Wednesday Witterings . . .

 

(source)

 

Just some thoughts which have been crowding my mine over these weeks.

Why don't I use some of the things I have?  What am I saving them for?  We all do it. Some of us have beautiful dishes, or silver cutlery, sweaters that we love, etc.  We save them for good.  Why do we do that? 

For me, it has always been because I don't want them to be damaged or broken, to get worn out, etc. My mother did the same thing.  Kept things for special occasions and then barely used them for fear of damaging them. She was the kind of woman who kept the plastic wrapping on her lamp shades.  When she died her furniture, even though it was over 25 years old, looked brand new.

There is nothing wrong with having a healthy respect for our possessions and caring for them as best as we can. But is not every day that we are given a special occasion?  Does not every morning we open our eyes once more deserve to be celebrated?

I say, rip the plastic off your lamp shades. Use the good dishes. Wear that sweater you love so much.  Eat those cookies now, don't save them for a special occasion or guest that might never come. Eat them now while they are still good, before they expire, and you have to throw them away. Drink your tea in a china cup. Write/draw in that pretty notebook. So what if you ruin a page?  Or if you chip the cup? 

What is the point of having pretty things, or things you love, if you don't darn well enjoy using them?

 

In my dreams there is always a Mr. Darcy.  Someone to share things with.  And I enjoy their company. What does that mean?  Does that mean that I don't really wish to be alone?  Do I actually want to have someone to share my life with, eventually, one day?  Do I not feel that I deserve to be loved in the way that I deserve to be loved?

Just because I have gotten it incredibly wrong three times do I never deserve the opportunity to get it right?  Should I close the door forever on the chance at finding love in my old age?  What is love in your old age supposed to look like?

I tell myself that I am not thin enough, pretty enough, yada, yada, yada. I question why anyone would ever want to spend time with me as their companion. I tell myself I am not mobile enough, not healthy enough, yada, yada, yada. 

Why can't I see the good in me, or my worth in that way?  Why do I deem myself as unlovable? Sometimes it makes me sad to think that I have spent my whole life not ever knowing what it is to be cherished or appreciated in a meaningful way. But then again, they do say that it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

I may not have ever had a face beautiful enough to launch ships but who says you need to?  

Then again, perhaps I first need to learn to truly love myself before I go looking outside of myself for love.

 

(source)

Where is the elegance today? Do you remember when people used to dress up to fly? You couldn't go on an airplane unless you were properly attired. You would not go out for a meal without putting on your best clothes. You had clothing reserved just for wearing around the house, and doing your chores, but you changed them for going out the door.  

When we were children, we had clothes that were reserved for going to school, but then we had clothes that were for play.  Sundays meant we had special clothing that was reserved for Sunday School and church, which was a tiny bit more fancy that that which we wore to school, and fancier yet than what we wore for play.

You would never have dreamed of wearing your night clothes all day, or of walking around the house without your night robe on or your slippers.

True, it was only the housewives on the television who did their chores in pearls and high heels, with every hair in place.  

There is a part of me that longs for elegance. That would love to dress up just to go to the shops.  

There is a man in town that you see walking often and he is always dressed proper-like.  Shirt and tie. Neat jacket, shone shoes, proper cap on his head. He is a bit of an oddity really, but a part of me admires his standards.

We have gone from having pride in our looks to wearing jeans that look like they have been run over by a lawnmower.  How/when did that happen?

 

(source)

Do you make your bed every morning?  I do.  It is one of the first things that I do. Even though most days there is never anyone else in here to see if I have made my bed or not, I go to the trouble of making it. Of brushing the wrinkles out of the sheets and blankets, and pulling them up just so, tight and secure.  Of pulling the bedspread over top and placing the pillows in their rightful spots. It is a part of my routine.

It is the same at the end of the day. I prepare my bed for sleeping. I turn the bedspread down and open the sheets/blanket, turning it over in a corner waiting for me to arrive. Turn on the light on the nightstand in readiness for my arrival. And I do this right after I have my shower and put on my night clothes.  I am a creature of routine I suppose.

There is a great comfort to be found in routine, even if that routine is only for your own eyes.

Sometimes I wonder why I don't go to the trouble of setting myself a place at the table for my meals.  Why am I content to sit on the sofa and watch the television while I eat off a tv tray?  

I have fallen into the bad habit of just eating whenever I am hungry. There is no set time for breakfast, lunch or supper.  Sometimes there is no breakfast, lunch or supper.  There is just whatever, whenever.

Which causes me to think did I only do those things for the pleasure of others?  Am I not worth doing those things for myself?  I need to do better. I am worth the effort.

 

This made me smile big time. Both the Quote and the Jesus. I love this Jesus as he is portrayed in the series The Chosen.  He is just as I have always imagined Jesus to be. Not blue eyed and fair skinned, light haired.  Middle Eastern with the kindest eyes.  Eyes you can lean into and feel loved and welcome, cared for.

And with that I have probably troubled you long enough with my witterings. My head is a bit all over the place this morning. My Doctor's appointment is at 10 and I need to get ready for that. What will be will be.  I am hoping for a miracle and at the same time steeling myself for whatever it is.  But then again, are you ever truly ready for bad news?  I think not . . . but I am hoping it is not the worst.

A thought to carry with you . . .

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

 *Think of how many words

have died in your heart or mouth

because you were too afraid to say them.

~Jonathan Carroll•。★★ 。* 。•。★

In The English Kitchen today  . . .  Biria Tacos.  I loved these.  But then, I love most Mexican flavors.  These were fabulously tasty.

Have a wonderful Wednesday.  I have Doctors this morning and then whatever, supper with my dad and his friends tonight.  Life must go on!  Whatever you get up to don't forget! 

═══════════ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ═══════════ 

⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿

═══════════ ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ ═══════════

 

And I do too!