When it comes to the art of living, we often have the power to save ourselves from ourselves. This is true no matter the size of the opportunity. We just have to be willing to stop and think.

Opportunities come in many forms. Does she stay at her current job or chase an opportunity for advancement?  Will he share the love of God with his friend going through troubles? Do they invite the new neighbors over for game night? Should we go to the same old place or try the new restaurant? Some days bring big opportunities and some days small ones. Each day, though, is loaded with them.

Last week I received a rude reminder of the need to stop and think when presented with an opportunity.

I have a catch-all cup on my dresser. It has pens, reading glasses, and emergency candy. If you are unfamiliar with emergency candy, I define it as those precious few, carefully guarded doses of sugary goodness easily accessible for preventing emergencies like emotional breakdown or the sudden urge to murder family members. I keep it on my dresser because in my house the very best place to hide something is in plain sight.

I don’t recall why, but Hubby Guy and I were talking about candy. He asked me why I had not eaten the Reese’s miniature in my stash. I was startled at the thought. How does one forget a Reese’s Cup? I don’t remember putting one there. Reese’s should always be for immediate consumption and not for saving.

The following afternoon I decided to end the languishing of the Reese’s cup in my emergency stash. What an opportunity, right? Forgotten, immediately available chocolate? I was two chews in before I realized something was terribly wrong. I ran to the nearest trash can and spit it out. It was rotten! And, it was squished into my back teeth. I will not soon forget the flavor of rotten Reese’s Cup.

Have you ever been a little too quick to say yes to what looks like a good thing? Maybe you are smarter than me, but I get excited. When even the smallest opportunity presents itself, I tend to jump first and ask questions second. On this occasion, it cost me lots of tooth brushing and a new traumatic memory.

In 1735 Benjamin Franklin said, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” He was definitely onto something. If I took a moment to consider its age, given I had completely forgotten a piece of my most beloved kind of candy, I might have chosen to err on the side of caution. I might have been saved from the vilest of surprises.

Not all opportunities end up being a good thing. It is always worth our time to consider opportunities from a couple of different angles before charging headlong into something that could end up a net loss for us.