At age 6, my friend, Stevie, and I were investigating the shed my dad had built behind our house in the Texas panhandle. He had built it to keep the lawnmower and tools in. We could see that the roof was flat and that he not yet sawed off the boards. The one by sixes were hanging 3 feet over the right side like diving boards.
We climbed up on top and went out on the end of the end of the boards to see over the fence and into our neighbors' backyard. Stevie beat me to the punch, "I dare you to jump!? "If I do it first, will you be right behind me." "You betcha!" The sun was going down but as I looked into the neighbor's backyard, I could see the small bushes in their flowerbed and I could see the bricks along the edge of the flowerbed. All I have to do is miss the bricks and everything would be "okey dokey."
I backed up and took a flying bounce into the air. Because my focused was on the bricks -- I never saw the clothesline. As I was coming down, it caught me right between the legs. Shot me into the air like a small missile. On my second trip down I managed to miss the clothesline. And I barely missed a brick with my head. But I could hear my collarbone break as it crashed against it. I rolled over and started to cry. Stevie said, "I have to go home and eat."
Because I was focused on the obvious -- bricks and bushes, I missed seeing the most dangerous obstacle, a clothesline. What's your focus on? Look again.
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