You Never Know Until You Try.
I’ve had so many ideas roaming around in my head today that my words are tripping all over themselves and each other. I wanted to check in today and offer something for my readers to chew on, so I leave you with the idea that there’s some "Brunswick Stew" simmering in the recesses of my psyche. If you don’t know what Brunswick Stew is, Dictionary.com defines it as “a stew made of rabbit or squirrel meat, cooked with onions and other vegetables” or “a similar dish made with chicken.” Dictionary.com states that it originated between 1855 and 1860 in Brunswick County, Virginia.
I’m going to sit tight and allow all these ideas to simmer and see what happens, and I encourage you to do the same if you’ve got ideas germinating in the fertile soil of your mind. Let your imagination roam; see where it leads. Don’t rush it; just enjoy it. That’s what I’m going to do.
I’ll keep you posted on what develops from my stew, and I hope you’ll do the same. Feel free to comment on posts! Tell me what you're thinking. The more the merrier!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Love
You Never Know Until You Try.
Today being Valentine’s Day, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about love. I don’t have a “significant other,” but I’ve got people who love me: my parents and friends, and my little kitty person, Raven. The most important, though, is God. He loves us all, as evidenced by His gift of His Son, Jesus. (John 3:16).
God loves us even when we’re not very lovable, and though they may not like us at times, friends and family also love us when we’re less than lovable. I have to admit that I certainly have days wherein I don’t like my own behavior. Like Paul, I sometimes do what I hate and don’t do what I know I should.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi since the first of February, so I thought I’d quote it here to give my readers something to ponder. This version is from http://www.catholic-forum.com/saints/pray0027.htm
Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
“O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
It’s not all about me; it’s about God and what He would have me do to help others through this life. Focusing on how I can help make others’ lives better is one way I can show love for them—and for God.
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!
Today being Valentine’s Day, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about love. I don’t have a “significant other,” but I’ve got people who love me: my parents and friends, and my little kitty person, Raven. The most important, though, is God. He loves us all, as evidenced by His gift of His Son, Jesus. (John 3:16).
God loves us even when we’re not very lovable, and though they may not like us at times, friends and family also love us when we’re less than lovable. I have to admit that I certainly have days wherein I don’t like my own behavior. Like Paul, I sometimes do what I hate and don’t do what I know I should.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi since the first of February, so I thought I’d quote it here to give my readers something to ponder. This version is from http://www.catholic-forum.com/saints/pray0027.htm
Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
“O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
It’s not all about me; it’s about God and what He would have me do to help others through this life. Focusing on how I can help make others’ lives better is one way I can show love for them—and for God.
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Letting Go and Letting God (Part 2) Or Don't Freak Out; Reach Out
You Never Know Until You Try.
My apologies that I haven't blogged in a while. When I did part 1 of "Letting Go and Letting God," I had no idea that there would be a part 2, much less a part 3, which there may be. I haven't decided yet. I thought I was on the mend from my bout with “the crud.” Alas, that wasn’t the case. I ended up with a sinus infection, which meant another round of antibiotics. Then I had oral surgery, which had been postponed for 2 weeks while I had “the crud,” last Thursday. I’ve had lots more time on the sidelines. I’ve gotten more sleep and more time just lying in bed thinking of nothing but how much I wanted to be—and feel— well again.
And so here I am, 2 days shy of 5 weeks since this whole saga of sidelining sickness (say that fast 3 times, will you?) began. I’ve had lots of reminders of how much I’m loved: friends have called, sent cards, and brought care packages. The big reminder came last Thursday after my surgery.
I drove myself to and from the procedure 25 miles away, intending to return home, take the prescribed pain medication, and probably sleep until noon the next day. No big deal. But as Steinbeck said, the best laid plans . . . The reality was that I couldn’t seem to stop bleeding, and I was fast succumbing to the sedating effects of the pain medicine. So I did what any other independent middle-aged woman might do—I called my mommy and daddy. After all, it’s scary to discover that you can’t stop bleeding when you live alone and are doped on medicine that’s making you woozy, feeling that you may fall asleep at any moment. I was freaked out, so I reached out.
Thankfully only a few miles separate my house and my parents’ house. Mother picked me up, and I ended up spending the next 2 nights with her and Dad. I finally got the bleeding stopped Thursday night, after a good 6 or 8 applications of damp tea bags to the surgical site, and I guess the adrenaline from my freak-out kept me from conking out until I’d been at my folks’ an hour or more. When I did sleep, though, I was out a good 15 hours or so.
I awoke Friday hung-over but not bleeding or in too much pain. I started bleeding again once, but it didn’t last long. I could’ve gone back home, but my retired parents, Mother especially, were glad to have me around. Since I’d been sick for so long, I hadn’t visited in quite a while, and it turned out to be a good visit, considering. We didn’t do anything major; we just hung out, talking and watching TV. Dad took me home late Saturday afternoon, and we’ve kept in touch by phone since then.
I was glad to have the time with my parents, even under those circumstances. God knew that I would need their assistance, and He gave me the sense to reach out and ask for their help. I wish I could say that I hadn’t freaked out, but at least I reached out too, and I got the help I needed. Ask, and you receive.
My apologies that I haven't blogged in a while. When I did part 1 of "Letting Go and Letting God," I had no idea that there would be a part 2, much less a part 3, which there may be. I haven't decided yet. I thought I was on the mend from my bout with “the crud.” Alas, that wasn’t the case. I ended up with a sinus infection, which meant another round of antibiotics. Then I had oral surgery, which had been postponed for 2 weeks while I had “the crud,” last Thursday. I’ve had lots more time on the sidelines. I’ve gotten more sleep and more time just lying in bed thinking of nothing but how much I wanted to be—and feel— well again.
And so here I am, 2 days shy of 5 weeks since this whole saga of sidelining sickness (say that fast 3 times, will you?) began. I’ve had lots of reminders of how much I’m loved: friends have called, sent cards, and brought care packages. The big reminder came last Thursday after my surgery.
I drove myself to and from the procedure 25 miles away, intending to return home, take the prescribed pain medication, and probably sleep until noon the next day. No big deal. But as Steinbeck said, the best laid plans . . . The reality was that I couldn’t seem to stop bleeding, and I was fast succumbing to the sedating effects of the pain medicine. So I did what any other independent middle-aged woman might do—I called my mommy and daddy. After all, it’s scary to discover that you can’t stop bleeding when you live alone and are doped on medicine that’s making you woozy, feeling that you may fall asleep at any moment. I was freaked out, so I reached out.
Thankfully only a few miles separate my house and my parents’ house. Mother picked me up, and I ended up spending the next 2 nights with her and Dad. I finally got the bleeding stopped Thursday night, after a good 6 or 8 applications of damp tea bags to the surgical site, and I guess the adrenaline from my freak-out kept me from conking out until I’d been at my folks’ an hour or more. When I did sleep, though, I was out a good 15 hours or so.
I awoke Friday hung-over but not bleeding or in too much pain. I started bleeding again once, but it didn’t last long. I could’ve gone back home, but my retired parents, Mother especially, were glad to have me around. Since I’d been sick for so long, I hadn’t visited in quite a while, and it turned out to be a good visit, considering. We didn’t do anything major; we just hung out, talking and watching TV. Dad took me home late Saturday afternoon, and we’ve kept in touch by phone since then.
I was glad to have the time with my parents, even under those circumstances. God knew that I would need their assistance, and He gave me the sense to reach out and ask for their help. I wish I could say that I hadn’t freaked out, but at least I reached out too, and I got the help I needed. Ask, and you receive.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)