How many times have I heard someone say, "If I only had it to do over?" How many times have I said it myself? A recent Wall Street Journal article asked readers if, given the opportunity, they would start over from scratch. The question was about beginning anew in terms of a career, but it got me thinking. A childhood expression comes to mind, one that that was shouted out during games, especially Jacks and jumping rope. "Do over," a participant would yell, followed by a chorus of groans from the other players. What about you? Would you want to start your life from scratch, to holler out, "Do over?" Or does the very idea make you groan?
     It would be nice to pick and choose, like a menu-one from column A and two from column B. But a bona-fide "do over" could start a chain reaction that would automatically change everything that follows. Even those you're happy with.
     Take me, for instance: A big regret of mine is that I never finished college. A do-over would have me staying in school, graduating in 1970 with a degree in English. But I wouldn't have married and had my children when I did. And that means not having the six grandchildren I have now. Do you see what I mean? Staying in school would have changed the very things I would never want to change. (Please, no letters-I firmly believe everyone should stay in school.)
     Many years ago, when my mother came to visit, I found her staring at a framed Mary Engelbreit poster in one of my upstairs rooms. A small child with a knapsack slung over her shoulder was at a crossroads where one road sign pointed towards, "Your life now," and the sign going in the opposite direction read, "No longer an option." Printed across the top of the picture, in bold letters, was "Don't Look Back." My mother, dabbing at her eyes, told me there were things she wished she could have done over again.
     Someone told me at the end of your life you see that everything happened for a reason-even the pain, the sadness, and the mistakes. What seemed like failure really wasn't. I like that idea.
     So, maybe what I want is not as drastic as a do-over. Maybe I just want to be able to make a U-turn every now and then for the smaller snafus. Like the time I drove away from the house with wrapped Christmas gifts flying off the top of the car where I'd left them when I buckled the kids into their seats. Or the time I didn't wrap my arms around my mother and say, "Mom, there's no reason for you to do anything over. You're the best mother ever."
     And maybe the really big boo-boos, the ones that can never be undone, take care of themselves in the long run. Perhaps, when we stand at the pearly gates and see our life in retrospect, we can heave a sigh of relief as Saint Peter says, "Well, you messed up, but not so bad we won't let you in.