Hello dears,
Here we are in a new month and six weeks or so of winter remaining. Fortunately, for us in the South, our winters are not generally terribly cold, or terribly grey. Nor do we do with a lot of snow and ice. Admittedly those things make life a good bit easier. We might hit a spate of rainy miserable days (or weekends while weeks are sunny and bright) and want to shelter at home but for the most part our winters are tolerable.
Already things are changing though, in preparation for spring. In the swamps yesterday the first blooms were out on those trees that bloom in late winter. Don't ask me what kind of trees they are. Granny always called them maples, but it's not just maples, I know this. There are different trees with different red/burgundy flowers. But they are harbingers of a changing season.
The peepers are chirping away in the wetlands and now and then, in a ditch where ground water seeps and sits rather than evaporating away. I haven't seen a narcissus blooming yet, but I know that they are coming.
I like seasons. I do truly like every season, and I've learned to savor what each one means in my area, though I will admit I struggle when we have those summer days that are over 100F, and the heat outdoors slams us in the face when we open the door.
I'm trying to learn to like the seasons of life as much as I've come to like the natural seasons. We had, as I shared, quite a few months where we had no trials or upsets or hurts. Alas, that season has ended. There is trouble in the family, but I am so grateful for the time we were allowed between the barrages. We needed that season of peace to rest and restore. We will face what's ahead knowing that indeed every season, does end.
Many years ago, a friend and I dieted for months. We'd both lost some weight and were proud of our success albeit we were still quite heavy. Someone intentionally went out of their way to hurt us. It was cruel. It was meant to be. I remember that we went back to my friend's home, and we began to bake cookies and cakes, to open bags of chips. I said, "I will never do this again." "Diet?" my friend asked. "Yes, diet! But more than that..." I looked at the food between us and I was thinking of all the years I'd eaten compulsively, hidden my compulsive ways and purged afterwards when I was alone. "But Terri! What if you die and you've never been skinny?" Such a simple question but it struck me that it was the most ridiculous way to view life.
We judge ourselves, most of us, by others. But we were never meant to. We are individually created and while we might share certain characteristics and qualities, likes and dislikes, we are who we are. We are not meant to be 'them'. I am meant to be myself.
I share this because periodically through the years we've had a repeating conversation in our house that ultimately comes down to this. Either of us might be feeling a bit let down about our creative pursuits or physical looks or financial state. And nine times out of ten, we are looking at someone else and making a comparison of how we write, sound, play, dress, spend. We are comparing whatever talent we might have with their mightier and greater talent. We become completely blind to all the wonderful blessing we have in our lives, all the things that we know without a doubt are good and right about our lives.
God created us. He knew from the beginning of time, before we even existed, just how each of us would be gifted, look, act. He knew who would be famous and well-known for their talents. He knew that for some there would be a small talent and there would be a small audience for what we had to share. He knew who would need a word of encouragement or wisdom or example that only we were capable of imparting. He knew who would be influenced or helped. Perhaps at times we reached an audience of one, just one, but God knew that one person would be altered or changed or helped or encouraged. And that one person was so precious to God that he gave us, the ones who feel we have nothing to offer, the opportunity to reach that one soul.
There is a belief in Judaism that indeed we are all created for just one purpose, to reach a single person and alter their life by our presence, however brief it might be. We don't know who, or when or where or how. It is a responsibility that we don't even realize we carry. Yet it is of vital importance to the two people involved because each must take their part, the giver and the receiver.
I think we actually have an additional responsibility. I must give to one, but I'm also meant to receive from someone else. Because that is the balance wheel. We can't all be givers and no one receive. We can't all receive, and no one give. We all must fulfill the dual purposes God set before us: receive and give.
I dreamed of my own sort of fame at one time. I dreamed of being an influence in lives. And then, I had children, and I realized how hopelessly lost I could be at times. I didn't always have the right words of comfort or wisdom. I didn't always show the best examples. Being responsible for children is humbling at best. Joyous at times, yes, it is, but it's also wearying and demanding and ceaseless and soul sucking for lack of better words. There were, are, days when I felt I failed so spectacularly that there was no purpose in living. And one day, I altered everything within myself by not asking what I was meant to give to my children but what I was meant to receive from them.
I stopped worrying that I was the only one meant to be an influence. I began listening to their wisdom, and they had plenty all of their own, some born of innocence and some born of being far more deeply in touch with things than my distracted mind could ever be. I learned from them. And by receiving from them, I was able to give more fully than I ever had before.
As I've aged, I've altered my dreams. There are daydreams I persisted in having for years upon years. One day, I realize I was no longer that person. I had outgrown the span of my dreams. As I've aged further, I've realized that I wouldn't alter much about my life. I wouldn't make the hard things easier. I wouldn't smooth over the hurts and bumps I had to take. I wouldn't want one of those dreams I used to think would be the ultimate apex of my life. I wouldn't make other choices, good or bad, because all of those things led me to now, here, this space and moment in time. I am comforted that God knew me better than I knew myself. I trust in him for every step of my future that may remain.
Which means, whatever season I am in, I shall be content that God has placed me where he would have me. I may not like it. I might whine and moan and groan (and probably will), but in the end, I trust him far more than I trust myself.
All of these things swirled in my head today as I did the most ordinary things. Washing dishes, sweeping floors, folding clothes, preparing a meal. Ordinary everyday things and yet my mind whirled down this road of interpreting what we wanted vs. what we are. And at the same time, another part of my brain was staring out the window at the white and grey branches of winter dead trees silhouetted against this stunning winter blue sky. My breath catches in the back of my throat. This too is ordinary. Not the loss of breath, but the beauty of this season. It is there every day, like the dishes and the dirty floors and the laundry.
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