Life is good but life is short. With all of the death I've heard of or experienced recently, I'm beginning to realize just how true that it. Just last month, a former high school classmate died after being involved in a motorcycle accident. He was 42.
I wish I knew how long I would be on this earth. I wish I knew when God destined to bring me home to Him. The fact is I don't know and I never will until the time when I am called home. Its scary to think I have no control over this. I have no say in where or when or how.
Dylan Thomas wrote "Do not go gentle into that good night, old age should burn and rage at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they do not go gentle into that good night." Does that mean we should fight death? That we should tell God when we feel our time is up? Not at all. At least that's not how I read it.
I was given one chance - one life with which to do something. Anything. Do I use it to sit on the couch and watch the parade go by from the window? Do I try to discover a cure for cancer? Do I venture out into the great big world? Do I raise conscientious kids to be environmentally aware? Do I wait for something to happen? Do I smile at the one person who needs it most and maybe save his/her life by one simple gesture?
All of these are possible for me. I have done some, I will do others and I can still help with others. That's was great about life. The possibilities are endless. When I look down a tunnel, I tend to see only the darkness and not the long stretch of road that has no limits. I limit myself.
As I await God's plan for my life, its time to do something. I have decided to make something happen at least once each year. This year, I will go to Ireland/Scotland in July. I have never crossed the Atlantic Ocean and the idea of it scares me but it will be an adventure I will never forget. I have also wanted to visit every state at least once in my lifetime so its time to make that happen as well. I have at least 10 states under my belt but have a long way to go. With friends in Florida, Texas and North Carolina, I have even more reasons.
Life happens whether we want it to or not. Time to get moving. Life is for the living and I ain't dead yet.
Sun setting In Cuzco, Peru
March 20, 2011
The Best Loved Doll
When I was a kid, one of my favorite stories was called "The Best Loved Doll". Its the story of a girl who gets invited to a party where prizes will be given for the oldest doll, the best-dressed doll, and the doll who can do the most things. The girl looks through her collection of dolls - some beautiful, some elaborately dressed, some with many talents. The competition is fierce and the suspense mounts as the girl looks over all of her dolls, trying to decide which one to take. She finally decides on a raggedy, well worn doll whose rough appearance and tattered clothes impress no one but the girl. This doll is the girl's favorite and best loved.
That doll is me - cracked and damaged, worn and ragged. I have a lifetime of painful experiences that contribute to the wear and tear of every day life. So much of me is broken, and parts of me are missing. All around me are women more beautiful, thin, wonderfully dressed, perfect. Sometimes, I see that I am a mess when I compare myself to them. I see women training for marathons when it hurts me sometimes to walk because if a back issue. I envy women in high heeled shoes and skinny jeans with precisely applied make up and flawless hair knowing heels aggravates my back, my fat jeans are tight, the cold sore on my face feels like Mt Vesuvius and the grays are overtaking the browns. I hear of weddings and newborn babies realizing that, at this moment, it is just me.
Sometimes that stuff gets me down. But, like the doll in the story, I know that no matter how I look or how broken I am, I am still loved. I have the love of friends and family, of church and Father, Son & Holy Spirit. And I know that if I am who I was created to be and live my life in the way I was created to live, I will be giving as well as receiving love. Aches and pains, wrinkles and grays are a part of who I am. And that's ok. Because no matter what, I will always be the best loved me.
That doll is me - cracked and damaged, worn and ragged. I have a lifetime of painful experiences that contribute to the wear and tear of every day life. So much of me is broken, and parts of me are missing. All around me are women more beautiful, thin, wonderfully dressed, perfect. Sometimes, I see that I am a mess when I compare myself to them. I see women training for marathons when it hurts me sometimes to walk because if a back issue. I envy women in high heeled shoes and skinny jeans with precisely applied make up and flawless hair knowing heels aggravates my back, my fat jeans are tight, the cold sore on my face feels like Mt Vesuvius and the grays are overtaking the browns. I hear of weddings and newborn babies realizing that, at this moment, it is just me.
Sometimes that stuff gets me down. But, like the doll in the story, I know that no matter how I look or how broken I am, I am still loved. I have the love of friends and family, of church and Father, Son & Holy Spirit. And I know that if I am who I was created to be and live my life in the way I was created to live, I will be giving as well as receiving love. Aches and pains, wrinkles and grays are a part of who I am. And that's ok. Because no matter what, I will always be the best loved me.
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