Linda, Get Over Yourself
I woke up this morning, this Mother's Day 2013, sorta feeling out of sorts. I hadn't even opened my eyes yet and that inner judge was slamming the gavel down, declaring loudly to my still foggy mind, that I'm...well, just fill in the blank. I roll over and wrap the pillow around my head and begin my litany of things for which I am grateful...like for that pillow, and the blankets and the bed.
After a little bit the judge quiets down but a heaviness remains. I go deeper inside and am reminded that feelings are fickle and fleeting. I often get SOOO caught up in my feelings that I, not just forget, but am not even conscious that at this very moment, on Mother's Day, there are mothers labouring to birth their baby, first or subsequent. Some of these new lives, longed for and already deeply loved, won't even live beyond a few breaths. Some will be born with less than perfect organs or with particular challenges that will profoundly affect their lives, and the lives of their parents, forever.
What am I belly-aching about now?
Frequently, I am so entangled in my own minor stuff that the factory explosion in Bangladesh, killing over 1000 souls, is barely a blip on my radar screen. Rather I'm wondering how I'm going to get from here to there or when is Jack the Dog going to be easier to walk.
Seriously?
There are wars and poverty that rage all over our planet affecting millions of PEOPLE...people just like me but not at all like me. My city and the street on which I live are safe. There are no bombs. I can go to sleep at night and be pretty confident that when I wake up my sons who live 10 miles away and my daughter who lives 3000 miles away will be safe. I do not live in fear.
My life is so nice and neat, even with the changes I've been making.
Yesterday afternoon, there was a homeless man sitting on the curb near Wal-Greens. I noticed him when I drove (my friend's car) into the parking lot. On the way out, he became more than just a glimmer on the edge of my brain. I went across the street to a 7-11 convenience store and my friend bought him some food.
We took it back to him. He appeared to be in some significant pain so I gave him my bottle of advil. He said he'd been hit by a car last year and has had alot of trouble with his hips. He took the advil before he even began to eat.
I can't go to Bangladesh to help with survivors of the explosion. But I can be right here right now. I can be awake and aware. I can get out of my own head and touch another person.
I can. And I will.
May all my readers have a blessed Mother's Day, whether you are a mother or not.
After a little bit the judge quiets down but a heaviness remains. I go deeper inside and am reminded that feelings are fickle and fleeting. I often get SOOO caught up in my feelings that I, not just forget, but am not even conscious that at this very moment, on Mother's Day, there are mothers labouring to birth their baby, first or subsequent. Some of these new lives, longed for and already deeply loved, won't even live beyond a few breaths. Some will be born with less than perfect organs or with particular challenges that will profoundly affect their lives, and the lives of their parents, forever.
What am I belly-aching about now?
Frequently, I am so entangled in my own minor stuff that the factory explosion in Bangladesh, killing over 1000 souls, is barely a blip on my radar screen. Rather I'm wondering how I'm going to get from here to there or when is Jack the Dog going to be easier to walk.
Seriously?
There are wars and poverty that rage all over our planet affecting millions of PEOPLE...people just like me but not at all like me. My city and the street on which I live are safe. There are no bombs. I can go to sleep at night and be pretty confident that when I wake up my sons who live 10 miles away and my daughter who lives 3000 miles away will be safe. I do not live in fear.
My life is so nice and neat, even with the changes I've been making.
Yesterday afternoon, there was a homeless man sitting on the curb near Wal-Greens. I noticed him when I drove (my friend's car) into the parking lot. On the way out, he became more than just a glimmer on the edge of my brain. I went across the street to a 7-11 convenience store and my friend bought him some food.
We took it back to him. He appeared to be in some significant pain so I gave him my bottle of advil. He said he'd been hit by a car last year and has had alot of trouble with his hips. He took the advil before he even began to eat.
I can't go to Bangladesh to help with survivors of the explosion. But I can be right here right now. I can be awake and aware. I can get out of my own head and touch another person.
I can. And I will.
May all my readers have a blessed Mother's Day, whether you are a mother or not.
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