Life can be a really fragile things sometimes. Oh, I don't mean life itself, I mean the way our days go. Not a one of us knows what tomorrow will bring and not a one of us can get rid of yesterday. All we really have is today and what it brings to the table, and that can change in an instant. Life literally turns on a dime. That's why we need to value every moment, every minute and give thanks for it, because each is a minute or a moment that will never come again.
I was reading Ann Voskamp on IG yesterday and she said this:
"You can be walking a hard & narrow road, wondering why others have what seems like an easier road, a softer pillow, a bigger smile, with all the lovely people & the picture perfect life & all the love you've always dreamed of, without any of the tangled, raised scars you bear, or the tangled downtrodden way you're on.
But you can also look to the sky and say, "You, who have given me every breath, don't owe me more. You, who have given me one day, don't owe me two. You, who have given me every single heartbeat for every single second I have ever known, you don't owe me anything."
You can read more of what she said here.
And I thought to myself, who do I think I am to think that no rain should ever fall on my head. Isn't it the rain that makes flowers bloom? And sunshine as well, of course? Don't flowers bloom because they have the perfect balance of rain and sunshine? And is that balance not different for every flower?
Don't we all think we deserve or want the perfect life, without any problems, or sorrows, or sickness, or negativity? But don't those things . . . imperfect lives, problems, sorrows, sickness, negativity . . . don't they come to each of us in varying degrees and at varying times? There is no such thing as a perfect or a charmed life. Or a perfect person for that matter. Only imperfect people doing the best that they can at any one given time. And the rain falls on the righteous and the unrighteous alike.
Sorrow is sorrow. Pain is pain. Problems are problems. Disappointment is disappointment. It matters not to which degree any of us feels these things. It doesn't matter who you are, or where you live. These things feel the same when you are in them, no matter how large or how small, where or when, or even who . . .
I have never been beautiful. I never will be. Nor have I ever had an inexplicable amount of talent or money. Sometimes it seems that if it were not for bad luck, I would have no luck at all. Maybe I will die not ever having had that happily ever after. Maybe my life will always be a tangled mess of one disappointment or another. Maybe some of my children will always be estranged. Maybe I will never be thin again. Maybe, maybe, maybe . . .
Cannot my life also be a tangled mess of found and discovered joy??? Sweet minutes and moments, which, when gathered all together on the scales of life, weigh much, much more than the alternative.
Doesn't true joy come when you start to recognize the blessings and small joys that compose the sweet minutes and moments of our lives??? When we pause to recognize the miraculous in the mundane???
Happy lives happen when you want what you already have, rather than when you have what you think you want. There are millions of unhappy people out there who have everything they want, but it is still not enough, or what they really need, or what their hearts long for. Is this because they have forgotten how to see the wonder of each moment given? Because they have stored up their treasures here on earth rather than in heaven? Because, perhaps, they place more importance on the physical rather than on the matters of the heart? Who knows?
Maybe they have forgotten how to see the miraculous and find the joy in the curl of each petal or leaf, or the purrs or wet nose of a loving pet, the contented sound of chickens pecking in the dirt . . . the joy to be found in the warmth of a hot cup of tea, or the blessing of having just one more breath. The beauty and soul enriching value of everyday gratitude.
I am not beautiful. I never will be. I have more grey hairs and wrinkles and rolls than I ever had hoped to have. I cannot draw a straight line for love nor money. Math will always be my weakness. I forget names and birthdays. Heck, sometimes I can't even remember what I had for breakfast. Sometimes even I burn the bacon. I know all about disappointment, being discouraged, failure, loss . . . imperfections (of which I have many), and sorrow.
But I also know how to find joy in the moment, and I know its value. And that needs to be, has to be, is . . . enough. I am enough. I have enough. Life is enough.
Just my thoughts this morning.
A thought to carry with you . . .
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In The English Kitchen today . . . Old Fashioned Beef Pinwheels with gravy. A great use of leftovers. Delicious and simple to make, and built for only two to three people.
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