Tired

This has been a week. I’m ready to retire. TGIF.

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Where Does Your Heart Lie?

I used to think I was a country person. At the time, I was working on a farm with some pretty amazing people. I plowed and harrowed fields with horses, fed chickens, milked cows, helped to shear sheep and butcher pigs, pumped water, and cooked on a coal-burning stove. Those were some of the best years of my life. At that time, I thought I wanted my own farm with my own horses, chickens, and sheep. (No cows or pigs. Cute? Sometimes, but being almost impaled by a cow horn, charged by hungry cows/angry bulls, and having to unearth a buried feeding trough for the pigs every day were all pains in the butt.) Ideally, it would be a historic farm, from 1880 or earlier.

Over time, as I grew and traveled, I learned that I really didn’t want that country life. I realized that I loved those years on the farm because I loved the people and what I did. (And the horses. I also loved the horses.) But I got to go home to a heated/air conditioned home every night with a shower and a microwave, so it wasn’t a completely immersive experience. And I traveled. I visited cities, big cities: Dublin, London, Edinburgh, Rome, Florence, Venice, among others. And do you know what? I love big cities, especially big European cities. I adore them, actually. London was the first place that I actually felt at home in my life, at peace. I belonged there. I can’t tell you how badly I want to be there right this minute.

Do you know what sounds heavenly? A life where Marty and I have a small flat on a high street in London with a small balcony. I’d write for a living. No car. There’s the Tube, so driving isn’t necessary. Stopping at a Tesco to pick up something small for dinner, or takeaway from a small restaurant. Fish and chips, perhaps, because we have a yen for it, no matter if it’s touristy. Strolling past Tower Bridge, the Globe, or St. Paul’s on a crisp spring evening. Sitting in St. James’  or Hyde Park and just soaking up the history. Watching tourists with umbrellas stroll around Piccadilly Circus and going to have dinner and a drink at this wonderful little Italian place on Kensington High Street, then going to bed knowing that I can do it all again the next day. My heart is in London.

Someday.

Where does your heart lie? City, country, or suburb? Why? Comment below or on FB.

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Guest Blogger

I’m so excited to be a guest blogger on http://www.mothersrest.com this week! Click to read my post as well as all of the other great posts on MothersRest, hosted by Ginny Olson. https://www.mothersrest.com/be-good-humans/ I hope to host her here some day soon!

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Forgiveness

This morning, our pastor gave a sermon, a really good one, on forgiveness. I don’t know about you, but that’s something I struggle with on a daily basis.

Logically, I understand that forgiveness means letting go of a hurt, it doesn’t mean that what the other person did was okay or that you have to reconnect with them, but I still find it difficult for sometimes. Most things are easy for me to forgive: a student being disrespectful, being cut off in traffic, when my husband or kids track in dirt from outside onto my clean floor. Simple stuff. But then there are other things that go much deeper, that are not healed and I don’t know if they ever will be. Every time I truly think I forgive one of those really deep wounds, it comes rushing back later and I know I haven’t, really. I don’t quite know how to let go, to make it go away forever.

Asking for forgiveness is tough, too. Like all of us, I’ve made some really bad choices in my life and I’ve hurt people. Not on purpose, I don’t have it in me, but they were hurt because of what I did, or, in some cases, didn’t do, and that’s my burden. I know that in at least one of those cases, I am not forgiven and that’s a terrible feeling, knowing that I caused that much pain to someone else.

So, these are things to work on within myself, with the help of my therapist. (She really should be paid overtime for having to deal with me.) Forgiveness should definitely be a goal, if only to free oneself of the pain of those hurts. Studies have shown that forgiveness improves mental and emotional health, which in turn, improves physical health, so it really is a good thing. I just have to figure out how to get there.

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Busy Busy

I’ve been really busy with theatre lately and haven’t had much time to write, but that’s a happy problem. More blogs to follow, but in the meantime, I want to share this lovely little quote that I found:

“A certain kind of magic is born when the curtain rises. Intoxicated by the smell of the greasepaint and powered by the glow of the footlights, lovers successfully elope, villains get their just deserts and people die in epic stunts and yet live to tell the tale. Thousands pay to sit and be fooled by illusions and still jump to their feet to applaud despite their gullibility. It’s an inexplicable, delicious, addictive power that keeps people entranced and coming back for more, again and again.”
― Carrie Hope Fletcher, When The Curtain Falls (goodreads.com)

I’m so glad to be a part of this.

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Be Kind

Just a reminder in this new year to be kind.

Check in with quiet people. They may need a kind word.

Don’t write that scathing comment in anger, but apologize if you do. (I’m recently guilty of this.)

Don’t troll people.

Do nice things without expecting anything in return.

Return the shopping cart to the store or the cart corral.

Step in to help a person who clearly needs it, even if it means standing up to other people. Scary, but necessary.

Be encouraging to the parent with the screaming child instead of throwing a dirty look. (Unless that parent is totally not being present and is on the phone. Totally different situation.)

Hang up the clothes that fall on the floor when you shop.

Change the empty toilet paper roll.

Compliment a person who annoys you and mean it.

Sincerely apologize when you’re wrong and accept responsibility. Don’t deflect or make excuses. Make it right.

Never stop learning about people and what makes them tick.

Learn about a culture new to you.

Being kind doesn’t mean being a doormat. Be kind to yourself, as well, and don’t let people treat you badly.

This world is a scary place right now, but there are also many good people out there. We can make it better. Even a tiny bit is better than nothing at all.

Happy New Year to you and yours.

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