Sunday, 17 August 2014

Reach Out

For the past 3 weeks I have been carrying some stuff with me ... sometimes in my heart, sometimes in my head, sometimes clearly etched on my face.  Those that are close to me noticed ... it is the down side of being a chirpy and lively person.  The reactions were odd .. some of those that I care for simply turned a blind eye, their body language making it clear I was an irritation.  It hurt.  Because this is not the way I would deal with their hard days.  It is not the way I am taught.  Others, even some who are not that knowledgeable about me, did the little things ... a hug, one kind word, a little warmth.  It went further than sarcasm and indifferent attitudes. On Friday late afternoon I found myself on my knees in church ... in the furthest point from everyone because I did not want them to see or hear my tears .. caused so quickly by something that I should have laughed off as trivial and petty.  I told myself that there in the parish I have such an incredible bond with, I would find solace, answers and calm.  It was not to be.  And then someone came up to me and squeezed my shoulder.  Pulled me against them and said " I hope whatever caused this incredible heartache I have watched now, will disappear soon".  A man's voice I did not recognise. I never looked up to see who it was, my face never left my hands.  I know when I came into church there were 6 or 7 people in the pews.
I left as I knew the church was going to start filling up soon.  But I was touched by that kind person.  I lit a candle for you today at church.  For stopping and doing what God expects us to.  For not walking past. For not looking past.  For reaching out to someone.  I think that is what He tries to teach us.  Especially in His house.  We should listen.  And tonight I unexpectedly got a poem, from a new friend, as if she had climbed into my heart and found the pain.  Just like the man in church, she reached out.  And I am so grateful.  Let us not be so hesitant to show compassion when we see hurt or sadness.  Not so quick to grow irritated.   Not so quick to not be bothered.


By Douglas Malloch

If you can’t be a pine on the top of the hill,
Be a scrub in the valley – but be the best little scrub
 by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can’t be a tree.

If you can’t be a bush be a bit of the grass,
And some highway happier make;
If you can’t be a muskie, then just be a bass -
But the liveliest bass in the lake!

We can’t all be captains, we’ve got to be crew,
There’s something for all of us here,
There’s big work to do, and there’s lesser to do,
And the task you must do is the near.

If you can’t be a highway then just be a trail,
If you can’t be the sun be a star;
It isn’t by size that you win or you fail -                 Be the best of whatever you are!

till next time
c'est la vie

Thursday, 14 August 2014

How do women dry their tears?

You know that men and women, Venus & Mars thing?  I was dubious.  I now believe it to be true.  
Now I know my girlfriends damn well .... and let me tell you, they all have their thing.  I am not talking about when they are punch you in the face angry ..... I mean when they are hurt ..... in tears ....... they do stuff. 

Now me .... to drive me to tears .... and I do not mean happy ones ...... the number one winning trigger is meanness.  Simply for the sake of being mean.   And especially if you know this and still persist.    

I have a friend who cleans house on such occasions ..... top to bottom even if it means staying up till 3am.  Everything is cleaned, floor to ceiling.  She would lift the tiles if she could.  I should have her over.  And make her cry. 

Another one irons.  Everything.  And when she runs out of ironing, she simply re-irons stuff from the cupboards.  I pray that I will never be so teary that I have a desire to iron something. 

A 3rd one drives.  Gets in her car and drives.  Like a trip to nowhere.  Music loud.  Tears streaming and she rants.  Then she goes home again. I love this idea.  But fuel is simply too expensive.  Plus I would have to go through the tollgate.  Ugh. 

Then there is eating.  Nothing like a slab of chocolate washed down with something great to lift your spirits.   Some I know of, paint.  Walls, landscapes, their nails ... whatever. 

One friend even cut up 2 of her husband's shirts and a pair of his work pants ..... Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned ne'. 

Me?  Usually I watch TV.  Catchup, programmes, soapies, movies ... I don't care.  I simply sit and watch back to back for hours.  I concentrate hard and do not let myself think of something but the story.  And crying. 

Yesterday?  I cleaned something.  A metal stand on wheels, waist high, that has 10 colourful drawers that slide into it.   It has stood in my study, untouched, for the last 6 years.  Everything in the 10 drawers is so dirty and faded it got turfed to paper pickup .... and then I scrubbed the drawers, and the stand and re-assembled it.  And now finally I have an additional place for all my glitter (someone I know is laughing), glitter pens, baubles, ribbons, tapes, scrapbooking stuff, stickers, decals, shimmer stuff, cards and on and on and on.  I truly can rival most craft stores.   

And yes I cried.  Because that is the drift of this story.  

However all's well that ends well.  I cleaned the damn rack that has been on my to-do list forever and a day.  Tomorrow is a new day.  

So ladies how do you dry your tears.  And if it involves cleaning, cooking and ironing .... you are welcome here anytime. 

till next time
c'est la vie xxx

2019 - new beginnings and other excitement

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