The train station
Welcome, February. I'm at peace with the announcement of your arrival. Somehow. Lately I have spent a good portion of thinking admiring the innocence in your malleability. Your gift of an anointed day to engage in a most intimate way. Your annual battle against racial indifference. Your lengthening days, all 28 of them, in preparation for spring. And your joy for birthday parties of our countries leaders. How selfless are you dear February.
As I prepared for the day and muddled in thoughts about beginnings, I made a mental call to the heroines of my past. More specifically I fingered through those invisible file folders looking for the details. What about her persona attracted me to pursue similar habits? Was it her smile? Her confidence? Her enveloping hugs? Her southern drawl? The way she spoke to all of us like nobody else mattered? The way she excitedly celebrated my great feats with me while her husband was dying? Or her apparent value in the eyes of Jesus? When did it become more about a shell and less about blood? As I considered all these women and their lives that so deeply affected my own I became aware of my failures. But I also see glimpses of a few of my own similar successes.
Yesterday I scrolled through Facebook and recognized a picture of one of my many feminine role model figures from high school and early college. She has a family now and another babe in the oven. Her smile hasn't changed. Still genuine as ever, now with twice as much love in her arms and more showing through the roundness of her shirt. She has taught me a lot. I'd like to sit down and ask her what she did to pull through those dark and scary times. I have a feeling she'd say something like, "Invest in the people around you. Forgive those who have hurt you. Then trust the One who adores you and share your joy that He promises." I imagine that conversation and it's hopeful.
Emily Dickinson had a few words to offer, "hope inspires the good to reveal itself." Doesn't it? When we find ourselves on the ground a nudge of hope from another who has fallen before is the best step towards getting back up. Even if it's through a pretend conversation.
This morning as I read from the latest published piece by Anne Lamott titled, Stitches: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair, I underlined this gentle and hope filled quote.
"When you love something like reading - or drawing or music or nature - it surrounds you with a sense of connection to something great. If you are lucky enough to know this, then your search for meaning involves whatever that Something is. It's alchemical blend of affinity and focus that takes us to a place within that feels as close as we ever get to "home." It's like pulling into our own train station after a long trip - joy, relief, a pleasant exhaustion."
It's been a long trip and I know my train stop is coming soon. It's encouraging to know that there will be joy, relief and a pleasant exhaustion. I think I could sleep for several days then hop back on for the next trip. Train rides truly are the best for adventure.
As I prepared for the day and muddled in thoughts about beginnings, I made a mental call to the heroines of my past. More specifically I fingered through those invisible file folders looking for the details. What about her persona attracted me to pursue similar habits? Was it her smile? Her confidence? Her enveloping hugs? Her southern drawl? The way she spoke to all of us like nobody else mattered? The way she excitedly celebrated my great feats with me while her husband was dying? Or her apparent value in the eyes of Jesus? When did it become more about a shell and less about blood? As I considered all these women and their lives that so deeply affected my own I became aware of my failures. But I also see glimpses of a few of my own similar successes.
Yesterday I scrolled through Facebook and recognized a picture of one of my many feminine role model figures from high school and early college. She has a family now and another babe in the oven. Her smile hasn't changed. Still genuine as ever, now with twice as much love in her arms and more showing through the roundness of her shirt. She has taught me a lot. I'd like to sit down and ask her what she did to pull through those dark and scary times. I have a feeling she'd say something like, "Invest in the people around you. Forgive those who have hurt you. Then trust the One who adores you and share your joy that He promises." I imagine that conversation and it's hopeful.
Emily Dickinson had a few words to offer, "hope inspires the good to reveal itself." Doesn't it? When we find ourselves on the ground a nudge of hope from another who has fallen before is the best step towards getting back up. Even if it's through a pretend conversation.
This morning as I read from the latest published piece by Anne Lamott titled, Stitches: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair, I underlined this gentle and hope filled quote.
"When you love something like reading - or drawing or music or nature - it surrounds you with a sense of connection to something great. If you are lucky enough to know this, then your search for meaning involves whatever that Something is. It's alchemical blend of affinity and focus that takes us to a place within that feels as close as we ever get to "home." It's like pulling into our own train station after a long trip - joy, relief, a pleasant exhaustion."
It's been a long trip and I know my train stop is coming soon. It's encouraging to know that there will be joy, relief and a pleasant exhaustion. I think I could sleep for several days then hop back on for the next trip. Train rides truly are the best for adventure.
Teens. You are such a soothing writer. I feel like I just drank this post in, in peace. I love that quote by Anne (sometimes it's fun to pretend you're on a first name basis with the wise ones). The search for what you love = the search for meaning = as close we ever get to home. I love the simplicity in that even if it's a little idealistic.
ReplyDeleteOkay, come visit us soon will you? February is great in Southern California!