Wednesday, 17 February 2016
Wednesday thoughts . . .
Yesterday I had one of those "Aha" moments. You know the kind I mean I am sure. They are moments when you suddenly see or think or experience something in a way or means that you never have before and you go wow . . . never thought, did, felt that before. It's an "I could have had a V8!" moment.
It started off innocent enough. I came across a video on FB that I watched which really made me laugh. It was of a woman on a roller coaster with her family. Those roller coaster videos of people can be quite funny, so I watched it. It started off rather innoculously . . . the usual squeals of fright, etc. About halfway through the video the womans hair blew off . . . it was a wig . . . revealing a somewhat bald head underneath. I laughed and laughed. I thought to myself, this is too funny, too good not to share with my friends. I want them to laugh too. And so I shared it.
A few people commented, oh wow, that was funny, etc. Then I had one comment from a friend in which she said simply . . . "I feed sad for that poor woman."
And I thought about that. And I was instantly chastised. I had not thought about that poor woman. About how humiliated she might have felt when that happened. About why she may have not had any hair and had to wear a wig. Did she know that she was being filmed? Did she then know that film would be shared on the world wide web? How did she feel about that? How would I feel about that . . . if it were me?
And I was totally humbled . . . and I felt ashamed. I removed the video immediately and then thanked my friend for helping me to see it in a different light. It wasn't a funny video. It was a capture of someone's most humiliating moment, which should have been personal amongst just family and friends . . . people who love you . . . shared via the internet so that the whole world could see.
And in sharing it with others myself, I had participated in her humiliation . . . and I was so sorry for that. That was not funny . . . that was unkind. Lesson learned.
I'm a little behind in my writings this morning. I had to reboot the computer for some reason. That always throws me off a bit. While I was waiting for it to boot back up again, I sat and read a few pages in an old book of mine, entitled The Best of Stillmeadow, A Treasury of Country Living" by Gladys Taber. they are monthly writings. A portion of what I was reading this morning was so perfectly sweet that I just have to share it with you. She is talking about her wee granddaughter who has come out to the country to stay for a few days with her mum, and how it had blizzarded through the night . . . her granddaughter's first experience with clean snow.
"In the morning the world was a drift of pearl and the sun shone from an intensely blue sky. Muffin, at a year and a half, had her first experience with pure country snow. In her blue bunny suit she looked like an indigo bunting as she went out. Her boots had been forgotten, but Connie devised boots from a plastic bowl cover and a plastic bag and tied them on with some leftover Christmas ribbon.
At first Muffin just stood and stared. Then she sat down in a soft drift, ate some. then she made miniature brooms of her arms and swept. All the time she said, "Whoo-whoo-whoo," like a tiny owl. By the time she had gotten both mittens off and her hands were stone-cold, Connie brought her in.
"Whoo-woo." Muffin said."
(my brother's shed in Ottawa, yesterday afternoon a prelude to another half metre of snow)
As I read this passage my heart was instantly cheered . . . and I thought to myself . . . that is a "Whoo-woo" moment!! How many times, as adults . . . do we just look out at the falling snow (or rain for that matter!) and grumble to ourselves . . . thinking about all the shoveling we are going to have to do, or how difficult it is going to be to get to the shops before the snow plough/gritter comes through, etc. . . . instead of seeing the magic in those softly falling flakes of white . . . drinking in the magic of the glitter . . . divining the miraculous of what is a seemingly very ordinary moment.
Are we not here to find joy? To divine the miraculous moments out of each and every day? To be able to take the ordinary and lift it up to something which is beautiful and not to be missed?
"Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy" ~2 Nephi 2: 25
Once we become adults, we seem to lose the ability to look at ordinary things with child-like wonder. I don't think that is a good thing. We need to have more "Whoo-woo" moments. More "Ahah" moments.
We need to be able to look at things more with child-like hearts and eyes, and to divine and embrace the miraculous of each one of our days. I believe with all my heart that God the eternal Father wants his children on this earth to have joy, an abundance of joy. It is up to us to find it tucked away safely . . . in each one of our days.
This is our Luke, opening up his Birthday present from us which he received yesterday. Oh, it did make me smile to see this. His joy and wonder is almost palpalable.
Our days should be like that. Gifts which we open and which bring us wonder and joy. And oftimes that joy comes from very simple and ordinary things . . . done, seen, felt, experienced . . . with "miraculosity."
Yes . . . I made that word up. But that is my word for the year now, and that is how I am going to live this year, with miraculosity.
Oh, I baked the lads a Yellow Cake and slathered it with chocolate fudge icing which they enjoyed with their tea yesterday. I had a tiny sliver and it was pretty good if I don't say so myself. You can find the recipe here.
I wish for you a fabulous Wednesday! May you be able to find the miraculosity in each and every moment and see it for the gift that it brings. Don't forget!
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And I do too!