Years ago I heard the the following quotation:
"Those who say it can't be done are usually interrupted by others doing it.” (James Arthur Baldwin)
It didn't mean much at the time but lately I am reminded of it time and time again. When there is something that keeps coming to mind there must be a reason and a truth that we need to learn.
I have come to the conclusion that if there is something that we are passionate about, we must summon the courage to step up and take action. We owe it to ourselves to move out of our comfortable places and take risk. It is in those situations where we take a leap of faith just because we are compelled by something larger than our selves that we will find fulfillment, contentment and purpose.
Lord, help me to find the courage to step out when You direct me, and to find the balance between recklessness and wisdom.
A New Desk
I'm on the hunt for a new desk. My current setup isn't working for me and my body is starting to protest when I spent too much time sitting at my computer, so I'm looking for something a little more ergonomically correct. Right now I'm just using my laptop on one of the tables in my sewing room. This table works great for laying out fabric and cutting pieces for quilts, but no so good for paper work or computer work.
In addition to being the right size and fit, it has to look nice and fit in with my decor. That is where it get's complicated. I'm really not sure exactly what I'm looking for, but I know I'll know the right one when I see it. (this shopping philosophy drives my husband crazy, but it's always worked for me!)
I found one at Office Depot that I really liked. It seemed to be the right size and it was kind of a cottage/beach style which I love. The only down-side was that it had a hutch. I want my desk to sit right in front of my window like my table currently does. Here in the Pacific Northwest I've learned to take advantage of filling myself with all the natural light that I can and this is an absolute necessity. A hutch won't work.
So, the search continues. The ache in my shoulder reminds me that the search can't continue for too long though.
In addition to being the right size and fit, it has to look nice and fit in with my decor. That is where it get's complicated. I'm really not sure exactly what I'm looking for, but I know I'll know the right one when I see it. (this shopping philosophy drives my husband crazy, but it's always worked for me!)
I found one at Office Depot that I really liked. It seemed to be the right size and it was kind of a cottage/beach style which I love. The only down-side was that it had a hutch. I want my desk to sit right in front of my window like my table currently does. Here in the Pacific Northwest I've learned to take advantage of filling myself with all the natural light that I can and this is an absolute necessity. A hutch won't work.
So, the search continues. The ache in my shoulder reminds me that the search can't continue for too long though.
Halfway to a hundred.....
I was in a bookstore waiting for a friend when I picked up a book and read a paragraph that would change the way I viewed my life.
"Most of us, halfway to a hundred, confront a need for greater self-awareness. We reach a point when the power of youth is gone, the possibility of failure presents itself, and the dreams of earlier times seem shallow and pointless. And then we find ourselves asking the tough questions: What am I meant to do now? What really matters? Who am I?" (from The Road Back to Yourself: The Second Journey by Joan Anderson)
Maybe it's because I was approaching the "halfway to a hundred" mark, or maybe it's because I recognized the sense of yearning for finding out what's next, but something caught my interest in this first paragraph of the book.
I bought it and took it back to the hotel where I was spending the night alone. I had travelled by myself to a place I loved and missed. While I had a practical and necessary reason for the trip, my decision to splurge on a comfy higher end hotel room for the night was just a whim driven by the desire to treat myself to a night of solitude and time for reflection. It was mere "coincidence" (I don't really believe in coincidence) that I found this book and happened to pick it up and read this first paragraph that spoke to me so clearly. I stayed up all night reading the book from cover to cover, and in that night found a validation for the restlessness that I had been feeling.
In that one night I made the decision to be true to this woman who had experienced my life and to honor her journey. She had done the best that she could do at the time with all the strength and courage that she was able to summon. She had always tried to do the right thing, and in that, sometimes suffocated pieces of who she really was. She made mistakes to be sure, and while it is easy now to look back and see where she could have made different choices, at the time the road not taken was not so well illuminated.
In that night I knew that, at halfway to a hundred, it was time to find what I was meant to do with the life I was gifted with, and to relax and enjoy the rest of the journey.
In that night I made the decision to begin this blog and to resume writing.
I'm not the best writer, but I'm not the worst either. I'm not going to compare myself, instead I'm just going to write from my heart as I am inspired to do. I am resurrecting some dreams that have laid dormant for far too long!
"Most of us, halfway to a hundred, confront a need for greater self-awareness. We reach a point when the power of youth is gone, the possibility of failure presents itself, and the dreams of earlier times seem shallow and pointless. And then we find ourselves asking the tough questions: What am I meant to do now? What really matters? Who am I?" (from The Road Back to Yourself: The Second Journey by Joan Anderson)
Maybe it's because I was approaching the "halfway to a hundred" mark, or maybe it's because I recognized the sense of yearning for finding out what's next, but something caught my interest in this first paragraph of the book.
I bought it and took it back to the hotel where I was spending the night alone. I had travelled by myself to a place I loved and missed. While I had a practical and necessary reason for the trip, my decision to splurge on a comfy higher end hotel room for the night was just a whim driven by the desire to treat myself to a night of solitude and time for reflection. It was mere "coincidence" (I don't really believe in coincidence) that I found this book and happened to pick it up and read this first paragraph that spoke to me so clearly. I stayed up all night reading the book from cover to cover, and in that night found a validation for the restlessness that I had been feeling.
In that one night I made the decision to be true to this woman who had experienced my life and to honor her journey. She had done the best that she could do at the time with all the strength and courage that she was able to summon. She had always tried to do the right thing, and in that, sometimes suffocated pieces of who she really was. She made mistakes to be sure, and while it is easy now to look back and see where she could have made different choices, at the time the road not taken was not so well illuminated.
In that night I knew that, at halfway to a hundred, it was time to find what I was meant to do with the life I was gifted with, and to relax and enjoy the rest of the journey.
In that night I made the decision to begin this blog and to resume writing.
I'm not the best writer, but I'm not the worst either. I'm not going to compare myself, instead I'm just going to write from my heart as I am inspired to do. I am resurrecting some dreams that have laid dormant for far too long!
Why I Write
At different stages of my life I have written for different reasons. As a teenager I wrote because I was compelled to do so. It was a way of expressing pain and trying to deal with feelings that I couldn't express any other way. It was a way of getting to know myself as I went through the awkward stages of growing up.
As a young woman, my writing experience waxed and waned as life took me on various journeys. Years went by when there was nothing that inspired me to express myself with the written word aside from journaling and writing prayers. Sometimes I tried to do more but the result was not what I knew I was capable of, and certainly not anything that I felt inspired to continue with.
I started writing again at this stage in my life first for my children as I thought about my own mother who died at age fifty-five. I have realized how little I know about her as a woman and it grieves me. I want my own children to know me as more than just their mother. Although that was the catalyst, writing has become so much more to me now.
By nature I am a quiet person, I treasure solitude, and I have a rich inner thought life. Writing is a way for me to step outside of myself and to clear my mind. It helps me to put some structure around my sometimes scattered thoughts. It is a way to let others in to a private part of me where I am honest and open in a way that I find hard to do sometimes in real life. It grounds me and helps me to understand the woman whom I have become. In writing about the past I find comfort as memories drift in and out and I find appreciation for past experiences. I become stronger when I write. The act of putting thoughts into words inspires and encourages me in a way that nothing else does.
I write now, at almost fifty years of age, because it is part of who I am and I am finally ready to recognize, accept and embrace this woman I have become.
As a young woman, my writing experience waxed and waned as life took me on various journeys. Years went by when there was nothing that inspired me to express myself with the written word aside from journaling and writing prayers. Sometimes I tried to do more but the result was not what I knew I was capable of, and certainly not anything that I felt inspired to continue with.
I started writing again at this stage in my life first for my children as I thought about my own mother who died at age fifty-five. I have realized how little I know about her as a woman and it grieves me. I want my own children to know me as more than just their mother. Although that was the catalyst, writing has become so much more to me now.
By nature I am a quiet person, I treasure solitude, and I have a rich inner thought life. Writing is a way for me to step outside of myself and to clear my mind. It helps me to put some structure around my sometimes scattered thoughts. It is a way to let others in to a private part of me where I am honest and open in a way that I find hard to do sometimes in real life. It grounds me and helps me to understand the woman whom I have become. In writing about the past I find comfort as memories drift in and out and I find appreciation for past experiences. I become stronger when I write. The act of putting thoughts into words inspires and encourages me in a way that nothing else does.
I write now, at almost fifty years of age, because it is part of who I am and I am finally ready to recognize, accept and embrace this woman I have become.
Empty
Whew....I made it through the week! It was a busy one and I missed being able to spend time here in blogosphere.
This morning, Gerry is out at a Men's Breakfast so I'm sitting here with a cup of coffee and Maya and Chelsea curled up next to me enjoying some quiet time. We were up early this morning as usual, so I've had time to to through my email and visit some of my favorite blogs.
So, here I am trying to post something that is even slightly interesting. This is my third attempt but it seems that my well of creativity is empty this morning.
Sigh....okay I'm giving up for now. I'll be back when I have something worthwhile to say!
This morning, Gerry is out at a Men's Breakfast so I'm sitting here with a cup of coffee and Maya and Chelsea curled up next to me enjoying some quiet time. We were up early this morning as usual, so I've had time to to through my email and visit some of my favorite blogs.
So, here I am trying to post something that is even slightly interesting. This is my third attempt but it seems that my well of creativity is empty this morning.
Sigh....okay I'm giving up for now. I'll be back when I have something worthwhile to say!
To dye.....or not to dye......
As a child I was a little blonde, almost white, headed girl. As a young woman, I remember my Dad complimenting my hair and the way it shone when the sun touched it. In more recent years, I have been known to get a few highlights even, but underneath I have always been blonde. Highlighted or not....I have been blonde.
So imagine my total and utter shock one day a few months ago when I had to go to a certain government agency to get my picture taken. This young man (really I'm sure he couldn't have been more than twelve) took my picture and then proceeded to enter my vital statistics into his computer. He asked me all the standard questions....eye colour, height, weight. (Honestly doesn't it depend so much on the time of day, what you're wearing and so many other things to get an accurate answer to that question? I chose to answer what I weigh first thing in the morning, when I'm buck naked, and before my first sip of coffee.....more or less.)
The clincher with this whole experience, though, was when he asked my hair color. Automatically, I shot back "blonde". I didn't really give it a second thought until he looked up at me. "Blonde?" he asked, "Are you sure?"
Was I sure? Was he kidding? I ended up making some kind of joke, and managed to convince him to enter blonde, but later as we left the building I asked my husband about my hair color. Brave man that he is, he finally admitted to me that my hair can no longer really be classified as blonde. I was stunned!
Over the next few weeks I began asking everyone I knew what color my hair was, I spent many moments peering in the mirror trying to get a reading on the true color of my hair.
Finally, I had to admit it. The little blonde girl has left the building. I guess it must be a combination of getting older and the dull, dark Pacific Northwest winter when nary a ray of sun touched my hair for what felt like forever.
I thought about getting highlights, I even made an appointment that I ultimately ended up cancelling. Part of me wanted to see where this would all end up. What color of hair was waiting down the road for me? I've seen the odd grey one (its obviously more easy to spot them now that my hair is no longer blonde) but still one has to really look for them to spot them. Will I end up with one of those spectacular heads of white hair that I admire so much on some women - or will it turn into the type of grey that I remember on my grandma?
In the meantime, can I make peace with the brunette who looks back at me from the mirror? The summer sun has made it a bit lighter but I still probably wouldn't be classified as a blonde by anyone. I spend way to much time thinking about this and asking my husband's opinion. I've gone back and forth on making a decision far too many times. If I go ahead with the big step, do I have it colored blonde all over or just get some highlights?
I've heard it said that not making a decision is making a choice to do nothing, so I guess that's my decision for now. I'll continue to explore this brunette self and see where it takes me.
That's my decision....for today.
So imagine my total and utter shock one day a few months ago when I had to go to a certain government agency to get my picture taken. This young man (really I'm sure he couldn't have been more than twelve) took my picture and then proceeded to enter my vital statistics into his computer. He asked me all the standard questions....eye colour, height, weight. (Honestly doesn't it depend so much on the time of day, what you're wearing and so many other things to get an accurate answer to that question? I chose to answer what I weigh first thing in the morning, when I'm buck naked, and before my first sip of coffee.....more or less.)
The clincher with this whole experience, though, was when he asked my hair color. Automatically, I shot back "blonde". I didn't really give it a second thought until he looked up at me. "Blonde?" he asked, "Are you sure?"
Was I sure? Was he kidding? I ended up making some kind of joke, and managed to convince him to enter blonde, but later as we left the building I asked my husband about my hair color. Brave man that he is, he finally admitted to me that my hair can no longer really be classified as blonde. I was stunned!
Over the next few weeks I began asking everyone I knew what color my hair was, I spent many moments peering in the mirror trying to get a reading on the true color of my hair.
Finally, I had to admit it. The little blonde girl has left the building. I guess it must be a combination of getting older and the dull, dark Pacific Northwest winter when nary a ray of sun touched my hair for what felt like forever.
I thought about getting highlights, I even made an appointment that I ultimately ended up cancelling. Part of me wanted to see where this would all end up. What color of hair was waiting down the road for me? I've seen the odd grey one (its obviously more easy to spot them now that my hair is no longer blonde) but still one has to really look for them to spot them. Will I end up with one of those spectacular heads of white hair that I admire so much on some women - or will it turn into the type of grey that I remember on my grandma?
In the meantime, can I make peace with the brunette who looks back at me from the mirror? The summer sun has made it a bit lighter but I still probably wouldn't be classified as a blonde by anyone. I spend way to much time thinking about this and asking my husband's opinion. I've gone back and forth on making a decision far too many times. If I go ahead with the big step, do I have it colored blonde all over or just get some highlights?
I've heard it said that not making a decision is making a choice to do nothing, so I guess that's my decision for now. I'll continue to explore this brunette self and see where it takes me.
That's my decision....for today.
Acceptance, the final stage
Those close to me know that I've been mourning the imminent loss of summer for a few weeks. The dread hit me in the face a few weeks ago when I happened to glimpse some geese roughly flying in the shape of a V.
For a while I was in denial and I tried to ignore the darker mornings and slight chill in the air as I left for work each day. I also went through a stage of minor depression as I mourned the fact that there would be no more after work "dates" with my husband on the patio.
This morning I woke up to the sound of rain on the skylight in our ensuite. At first I didn't realize what it was because it hasn't rained that much for a while. Then something happened that moved me forward in my "grieving" for the loss of summer.
My husband rolled over and put his arm around me and we cuddled under the quilt for a while. Just a quiet few minutes, listening to the rain fall, enjoying the sound of the Yorkie's breathing, and feeling safe and secure in my husband's arms, and my mind began to wander to what this change of seasons will bring.
I have some indoor projects that I've been neglecting as I've been spending as much time as possible enjoying the summer sunshine. The Pacific Northwest rainy season is a good time to put on a crock pot meal and head up to the sewing room to spend an afternoon. There are a number of used bookstores in the area that I have not yet had a chance to explore since we arrived last year.
So here I am now in the final stage of the grieving process. Acceptance. Autumn, I welcome you.
For a while I was in denial and I tried to ignore the darker mornings and slight chill in the air as I left for work each day. I also went through a stage of minor depression as I mourned the fact that there would be no more after work "dates" with my husband on the patio.
This morning I woke up to the sound of rain on the skylight in our ensuite. At first I didn't realize what it was because it hasn't rained that much for a while. Then something happened that moved me forward in my "grieving" for the loss of summer.
My husband rolled over and put his arm around me and we cuddled under the quilt for a while. Just a quiet few minutes, listening to the rain fall, enjoying the sound of the Yorkie's breathing, and feeling safe and secure in my husband's arms, and my mind began to wander to what this change of seasons will bring.
I have some indoor projects that I've been neglecting as I've been spending as much time as possible enjoying the summer sunshine. The Pacific Northwest rainy season is a good time to put on a crock pot meal and head up to the sewing room to spend an afternoon. There are a number of used bookstores in the area that I have not yet had a chance to explore since we arrived last year.
So here I am now in the final stage of the grieving process. Acceptance. Autumn, I welcome you.
Reflection
In a four months I will be 50. Where did all the years go? Does everyone ask that question when they reach that milestone? In some form or another, I believe that they must.
It was yesterday that I was a young woman awaiting the birth of my first baby. A daughter. I was certain.
No, it was a thousand years ago. Another lifetime. Another woman.
The truth. It was both.
I am settling into the woman whom I have become. I am making peace with her as well as the young woman who brought me to this place. I am forgiving the mistakes that the younger one made. I am looking forward to the future ahead of the older one.
This is the life that I have been given. This is the life that I have chosen. This is both.
I look forward - and still behind.
It was yesterday that I was a young woman awaiting the birth of my first baby. A daughter. I was certain.
No, it was a thousand years ago. Another lifetime. Another woman.
The truth. It was both.
I am settling into the woman whom I have become. I am making peace with her as well as the young woman who brought me to this place. I am forgiving the mistakes that the younger one made. I am looking forward to the future ahead of the older one.
This is the life that I have been given. This is the life that I have chosen. This is both.
I look forward - and still behind.
A Long and Winding Road
A few years ago I was working at a job where I had little face-to-face contact with people and where I didn't have an opportunity to contribute to the level that I was satisfied. Around the same time, I read the book Heaven by Randy Alcorn and it talked about his belief that we would have meaningful work to do when we get to heaven. Reading that helped me to realize that I needed to give my frustration and discouragement about my work to God, and to ask him for an opportunity to do meaningful work that would fulfill me. (I'm a slow learner sometimes!)
Recently, I had one of those moments in life where a bit of clarity seems to hit me in the side of the head. I realized that I am in a place where I am completely fulfilled in the work that I am now doing and the opportunities that continue to present can only come from Him. I feel like the role I am working in now was created for me in so many ways. The journey to get here has not been easy and there have been tears, losses, fear and many changes, but when I look back to the time when I first recognized my discontentment I can see how everything worked together to bring me to this moment.
This got me thinking about our journey on a grander scale. My life. and probably every one's, has been fraught with twists and turns that were not always expected or welcome. It has not always been easy, in fact very often it has been nearly impossible. I keep going though, one foot in front of the other, seeking God's guidance and trying to do the best I can.
When I am finished this journey of my life I wonder if I will look back on the winding road of my life and be able to recognize the road that was meant to be mine amidst all of the detours I found myself on. Will I be able to see the difficulties as part of the process that worked together to make me into the person I was always meant to be?
Somehow, I think that is how it's intended to be.
Recently, I had one of those moments in life where a bit of clarity seems to hit me in the side of the head. I realized that I am in a place where I am completely fulfilled in the work that I am now doing and the opportunities that continue to present can only come from Him. I feel like the role I am working in now was created for me in so many ways. The journey to get here has not been easy and there have been tears, losses, fear and many changes, but when I look back to the time when I first recognized my discontentment I can see how everything worked together to bring me to this moment.
This got me thinking about our journey on a grander scale. My life. and probably every one's, has been fraught with twists and turns that were not always expected or welcome. It has not always been easy, in fact very often it has been nearly impossible. I keep going though, one foot in front of the other, seeking God's guidance and trying to do the best I can.
When I am finished this journey of my life I wonder if I will look back on the winding road of my life and be able to recognize the road that was meant to be mine amidst all of the detours I found myself on. Will I be able to see the difficulties as part of the process that worked together to make me into the person I was always meant to be?
Somehow, I think that is how it's intended to be.
Sunday
I had a very nice day today. It started off early as most days do in our home - it was probably around 6:30 when we all started stirring.
Gerry took the dogs downstairs and started the coffee and then went outside to get the big Sunday paper. There is not a Sunday that goes by that I'm not thankful for this man who brings me coffee and the Sunday paper in bed. I love the cozy mornings when we have time to drink coffee and read the paper in bed. We share things that we read with one another and I usually tear out some pieces that I want to save for later. Really, it is such a treat!
After church we took the dogs for a walk. It was a beautiful day - the sun was shining and it was near 80 degrees. Gerry was out doing open houses this afternoon and so the dogs and I spent a good deal of time sitting outside soaking up sunshine. I managed to finish the book I was reading and started another. Truth be told, I managed to sneak in a nap as well.
It was a good day. I feel recharged and ready to face the coming week. Thank you God for downtime.
Gerry took the dogs downstairs and started the coffee and then went outside to get the big Sunday paper. There is not a Sunday that goes by that I'm not thankful for this man who brings me coffee and the Sunday paper in bed. I love the cozy mornings when we have time to drink coffee and read the paper in bed. We share things that we read with one another and I usually tear out some pieces that I want to save for later. Really, it is such a treat!
After church we took the dogs for a walk. It was a beautiful day - the sun was shining and it was near 80 degrees. Gerry was out doing open houses this afternoon and so the dogs and I spent a good deal of time sitting outside soaking up sunshine. I managed to finish the book I was reading and started another. Truth be told, I managed to sneak in a nap as well.
It was a good day. I feel recharged and ready to face the coming week. Thank you God for downtime.
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