What I did not choose:
My birth
My parentage
My skin color
The place I was raised in
The language I grew up speaking
What I did choose:
My faith
My education
My future
My partner and helpmeet
My family
My home
My tribe
My dreams
My child
What I will continue to choose:
To hope
To believe
To listen
To hug
To encourage
To pray
To sing
To write
To smile
To dance
To learn
To support
To love
Dear World,
I wish you could see what I see.
I wish you could see the beautiful little two-year-old girl twirling in the midst of my living room in her pretty spring dress, church shoes, and winter coat.
I wish you could see the spring sunlight as the rays filter through my living room window and fill my home with light.
I wish you could see my little family at baby’s bedtime, prayers and I love you’s and kisses all round.
I wish you could see the little moments of joy threaded throughout my day. But, even more so, I wish for you to see the ones threaded throughout yours.
Love, Me
So today is one of my favorite days of the year: the International Day of Happiness. What is the International Day of Happiness, you ask? Well, I shall let them tell you, direct from their own website:
March 20 has been established as the annual International Day of Happiness and all 193 United Nations member states have adopted a resolution calling for happiness to be given greater priority. First ever UN conference on Happiness and wellbeing
In 2011, the UN General Assembly adopted a resolution which recognised happiness as a âfundamental human goalâ and called for âa more inclusive, equitable and balanced approach to economic growth that promotes the happiness and well-being of all peoplesâ.
In 2012, the first ever UN conference on Happiness took place and the UN General Assembly adopted a resolution which decreed that the International Day of Happiness would be observed every year on 20 March. It was celebrated for the first time in 2013.
I love any holiday that gives me an (extra) excuse to do stuff for friends, family, and neighbors or to remind them of how glad I am that they are in my life. I think, sometimes, we forget that, while we can choose to be happy in our own lives, we can also contribute to the happiness of others. Sometimes, we have no idea just how much a kind word, thoughtful gesture, or a little bit of help can change or be an uplift to someone’s day. I was personally reminded of this the other day amidst a ginormous conniption fit by my daughter in the middle of a restaurant, and I am deeply thankful to those who shared the happy with their kindness.
So, today, I want to thank you – yes, you, the persons reading this – for stopping by and giving my blog a perusal. I appreciate your consideration of my writing; it means a great deal. And I wish you a day full of unexpected miracles and little happinesses. Now, go share the happy.
I recently started watching the new “Hawaii Five-0” television series from the beginning and one of the words that shows up frequently, especially in relation to Detective Danny “Danno” Williams, is “haole”. “Haole” is the Hawaiian word for “outsider”, and, honestly, it makes me bristle a bit to hear it sometimes, just like it does Danno. So many movies and stories are predicated on the plot of the outsider making good, finding common ground, and becoming part of his surroundings/community. So many languages have a word for outsider – gadjo, gaijin, haole, jackeen, msungu, for example. It makes me think. It makes me wonder.
Have I ever been seen as the outsider?
I know that I have seen myself that way before and it served to make me afraid and worried about doing well and thriving in a new community. When I first arrived at graduate school is a prime example of this, and it took a great deal of encouragement and love from friends and family far away and a fair amount of courage on my part to overcome it. But I do wonder if anyone else has ever seen me as an outsider.
Admitting new people into our lives and into our social circles is a part of life, though not always easy. Learning to share our friends, our family, the people whom we have seen as ours one way or another, can be incredibly difficult, but it opens us up to chances at new friendships, new relationships, which are pretty scary in their own right. I’ve stepped out and gotten to know people, admitted them into my life, into my circle, and sometimes it has worked out wonderfully, and sometimes it hasn’t. That’s life. I will admit, however, to having thoughts of “hey, they are mine” when I have seen friends make friends and hang out with new people, and that is where I have to stop, take stock, and remind myself that these people have done nothing wrong to me, neither set. Also, everyone deserves and needs friends and that, above all things, I want my friends, the dear ones in my life, to be happy. So while there may indeed be people who are ‘outsiders’ to my life, I often have to remind myself that they do not deserve to be thought of or treated so. I needed people to accept me and all the connections that I would make throughout my life that would also weave through theirs, so I can owe someone else nothing less than that same acceptance. Even if we never become ‘insiders’ to each other’s lives, I don’t want to see or think of them as an outsider. It would set us at odds and that can weigh heavily on the mind and soul.
But it still prods me to wonder, to even ask the question: have you ever seen me as an outsider?
They all saw her outside. They witnessed her every day. Many remarked on her poise and grace, her intelligence and gentleness. They watched her, saw her, day in and day out. Everyone thought they knew her, knew her story, who she was. But there was, of course, a her that they did not see, that they never saw.
Out of sight, there was the her whose shoulders stooped with the weight of responsibility and yet bore up. A her whose voice rang triumphantly in the celebration of a moment. A her who bit her tongue sharply to remind herself of the importance of silence’s role in making wise decisions. A her who chose every day to be the best her she could be. That was what people didn’t see, what they didn’t hear. But it made her the woman that they saw and knew.
Today has been a bit of a sucky day. It’s rare that I want to admit that in public because, to me, it sounds suspiciously like complaining, whether it actually is or not. But today has been one of those days. I haven’t had the motivation (though I have had the desire) to do any substantial writing (even journaling) over the past few days. I know that, sometimes, you just have to treat things like a job: do it, get it done, get off your desk. But even that couldn’t persuade me to put fingers to keys or pen to paper the past few days or encourage me when what I did try to write fell flat and lifeless. Add into it that I haven’t felt my best the past few days, and it sends the rest of me spiraling down.
I’m weary, unmotivated to do the housework that needs doing. I want to be sleeping but can’t bring myself to climb into bed alone. I want time to myself but, at the same time, I am lonely. I want to be cuddled and comforted, but I cringe to have my daughter right at my hip or using me as a tumbling mat as she did all morning. I want to sit in a quiet, dark room, but I feel like, if I do, I’ll burst into tears.
And yet, in all of this and sundry other things that have gone on this week, I find myself brought back again and again to the idea represented by these quotes:
“Feelings are an indicator of where we might be in a moment but they DO NOT need to dictate our actions.” – Lysa TerKeurst
“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedomsâto choose oneâs attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose oneâs own way.” â Viktor Frankl
I can choose my next moment. I can choose what I do next, and I can choose the attitude with which I react to the moments that threaten to unglue me. I might feel low to the ground right now, but I do not have to act like it. I might feel sucky and lonely and irritable, but it doesn’t mean that I have to lash out and be vitriolic to those around me. I have been blessed by friends and dear ones who have endeavored to give me smiles and encourage me today, even amidst their own lives and difficult moments, and, for that, I am extremely grateful. Thank you, friends.
No, today is not the best day. It’s tiring and hard. I want to do something good for my soul, however, so I am going to go and find what that is and do it. Thank you for reading.
Over the past few weeks, I have noticed a surge in a particular type of article and it makes me unhappy. Now, don’t get me wrong, I used to enjoy watching “The Fashion Police”, just like anyone else, mostly because I got to see pretty outfits and dresses and not really because of the hosts/”experts”. However, I have now found myself so very tired of articles that wags fingers and opine, “Don’t wear if you’re over (insert number here) age”. This piece or type of clothing or that shoe or this item for your hair. More than once, I have asked myself if I should just grow up and “dress my age”. And then I slap myself and come to my senses.
Oh, please! Fashion changes, CONSTANTLY! What makes you or anyone an expert on what I or anyone else should wear? Where’s the personal preference or taste? We may disagree with what people choose to wear but, ultimately, we do not have a say in anything but our own I am a grown woman, I will be 32 years old in two months, and I am fully capable of making my own decisions. If I like it, watch me rock it (see below)!
This article, though, has some excellent advice, which I think is quite apropos and awesome: Â http://www.huffingtonpost.com/michelle-combs/what-not-to-wear-after-ag_b_6656902.html?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000063Â Â ^_^ *climbs down from soapbox*
Examples of My Personal Fashion in Recent Years:
I didn’t exist in your world until you started reading this sentence of mine.
Did you know that? I didn’t exist in your world until a moment ago. Ta da! How do you do? Nice to meet you in this big old universe of ours.
This is one of the reasons I write (send letters, journal, blog, tweet, update, etc.): to send my words out into the world, into the universe, and to join my world with that of others’. My words are proof that I did indeed exist in this universe that we call our own; they are also proof of my existence in the worlds and lives of others.
One year ago, a new avenue of world-reaching opened up for me when the wonderful ladies of The Well Written Woman welcomed me as a contributor to their fabulous site. Over the course of 2014, TWWW was kind enough to publish seven of my articles/stories, giving me a safe place to share some of my most deeply felt and vulnerable writings with the world. There really is a sense of fear and foreboding at sending what basically amounts to a piece of your heart and self out into the world. Those soul-written words alert the world to your existence, not to mention your opinions and thoughts, and that can be dangerous, as well as wonderful, as many recent events have revealed to us. It has scared me to death on more than one occasion, but I have not regretted it. Even if I thought I did at the time, the truth is that, when it comes down to it, I really haven’t. When I have doubted myself the most, there always comes a kind, encouraging word from someone (whether friend or stranger) that reminds me of the aforementioned reason why I do this, why I write.
So this thought is a very profound one to me; the thought that, when people read my writing, I then exist in their world and in their lives, even if only for the brief amount of time it takes them to read my words. There are people who have become dearly important parts of my life, my relationships with whom began with words on a screen. Over time, those words have been exchanged in person, along with hugs and smiles and wonderful memories. But, until I first read their words, that person didn’t exist in my universe, and now I do not know what I would do without them. There are people whose words and teachings have affected my mind and the way I think about myself, others, and life. Words that I have taken to heart and incorporated into my own way of living and making the world around me better.
So thank you. Yes, thank YOU. You, who have read my words and allowed me into your world, even if just for a little while. You, who have opened doors and allowed my words to flow through them. You, who have shared your words and your world with me. I hope and pray that the thoughts, sentences, opinions, and reflections that I have woven my existence with have been and will be, in some measure, of help, encouragement, or inspiration to someone whose world I have touched and who has touched mine in return.
Again, nice to meet you.
From my personal journals, nine years ago today:
2-1-06
Ben called me this morning at 7:40 and told me that I needed to see the sunrise today. So I went downstairs to the computer lab and looked out the eastern windows there. It was simply gorgeous! All shades of fire and twilight – reds, oranges, purples, and pinks. ‘Twas a beautiful thing to share with Ben. I loved it!
Why is it that we are shocked or astonished by acts of love? Why is it that we are surprised by those who show love and care to others, regardless of color, sex, orientation, politics, belief (or the lack thereof)? Why are we shocked when that matters not a whit to someone but the other person’s humanity does?
In the past few years, we have witnessed such division and vitriolic rhetoric in our society as to break hearts and burden souls. The negativity has laid heavy on my own heart and, more than once, wrung tears from my eyes because it can seem insurmountable. How did this come to be such a norm that, when one does show kindness and love, it is met with a sense of incredulity and awe? I do not believe that it is right or correct to solely blame religion or politics for this shift in social consciousness. We, as human beings, are losing the courage to love. It feels at times that we are so concerned with being recognized – with having our rights and our personal brand of humanity or life recognized – that we fail to recognize the humanity in others. We see them merely as a (wrong) nationality, a (wrong) religion, a (wrong) political/social position, or a (wrong) sexual orientation, not as fellow human beings to whom we can show kindness, respect, and love. Love, the action and not the emotion, has to be taught. How then can we hope to teach it if we do not show it?
Bill Hybels, founder of the Global Leadership Summit, admonishes that we should “serve people joyfully and indiscriminately”. Could we do life any better than that? If we took the chances afforded us to serve and help others, or even to show them a little love, what good could we do? Instead of pouring our vitriol and telling people how wrong they are, what if we treated them like who they are: a person. A person who may have thoughts, opinions, positions, and beliefs different from ours but a person nonetheless. Can we not meet them where they are in their humanity and ours? Do not mistake me: it costs to show love. It can cost a great deal. But are you willing to at least try? To make even a moment’s difference or maybe restore someone else’s faith in humanity and that love/kindness/goodness really do exist? I cannot tell you the number of times that someone has given of that hope to me and restored my heart in a difficult time, by the smallest of acts.
We are shocked and awed by love in 2015. It is why videos go viral, campaigns overflow, and everyday people show up on talk shows and news broadcasts. I would much rather that love be commonplace and everyday. To know that we share in each other’s humanity, can accept it and each other, and help each other to stand through life. What is even a small thing that you can do today to help make love commonplace instead of a rarity fit for the evening news? Go and do it.
