I think I became an adult at 50 but retained my childlike enthusiasm. A perfect combination.
I have been blogging since February 2013. My mother had died almost a year earlier and I was at a loss for direction. My brother and sister knew that I’d been writing a newsletter for my apartment building for almost 10 years and they suggested I start a blog. I hadn’t any idea on how to go about that, so I googled it. Google. There’s a whole new Dictionary for the 21st-century and I’m still learning. Words like google or hashtag or bitcom were unknown only a few years ago. Now they’re everywhere. Our language has evolved. I would like to say we have evolved right along with it, but of that I am not too sure.
As I learned about blogging I too evolved. I learned about brevity. I learned about content and I met some amazing people. I spend almost 2 hours everyday just reading the blogs I follow and my day starts with a blast! Before 8 o’clock I’ve usually had many smiles, a few tears, a couple of guffaws and quite often an education. I look forward to my mornings.
It’s moving into late fall/early winter here in southern Ontario and the mornings are quite . . . dull (and cold). There is a blog I look forward to every morning because she posts incredible pictures of flowers! It’s hard to believe but she’s literally half a world away. As her world is turning into a hot summer, mine is turning into a cold winter. I like to be reminded with flowers and beautiful skies, that natural warmth still exists. She has asked for winter pictures to prove that cold still happens. Well, I’m very pleased we don’t have any snow (currently) so I went back a few years and pulled out some lovely winter pictures of what it does look like here in the winter.
I used to love the winter. Walking on snow that squeaked because it was so cold. The nights were quiet and so crisp you could see your breath. There would come a point when I could no longer feel my toes or my fingertips. My mother would always have hot chocolate waiting for me. Those are some wonderful memories. And then I grew up.
I don’t miss the snow, it just gets in the way of my wheelchair. I don’t miss the cold. Because I’m no longer walking, I’m not generating any internal body heat, so it’s bloody cold out there! I don’t begrudge others who love to toboggan or ski but they can do it north of me, power to them! I would love to be able to hibernate until say March, maybe April but unfortunately I have a life that I rather enjoy so I schlep on my winter coat and brave the outdoors. I can hardly wait for spring!
But because I have a friend I like, I will endeavour to provide her with the information she requires: Cold weather pictures! If you would like to check out her beautiful flowers, and so much more, you can find her at: https://madcapdog.wordpress.com/
We are all in a room
Our heads bent in prayer
Giving our thanks
For the things that we share
God is our focus
His works and his word
Depths of His meaning
And all we have heard
We get strength from each other
In this place where we are
Every day, every way
We are travelling far
We wander His words
And learn all His teaching
The roads we are taking
Are because of His preaching
My Lord is my Shepard
I shall never lack
For His sake alone
I’ll never look back
There is a lovely story out of India about a Water Bearer who carried two large pots on a pole to get water everyday. One pot was beautiful and carried its water with pride. The other pot had a small crack in the side and was never able to deliver a full load. Years went by, finally the cracked pot spoke up and apologized for its inability to fulfill its duty.
The Water Bearer smiled and replied that it had indeed fulfilled its duty. All along the side where the water had leaked out each day, were beautiful, luscious flowers. The Water Bearer had noticed the leak and had planted seeds to take advantage. One small supposed ‘flaw’ and the land was beautiful, because of that crack in the pot.
I have taken a little license with the story but it is accurate. Of course Clay pots can’t talk but they are able to speak and to teach. We all have “flaws” or things about ourselves we considered to be less than optimal. But that is actually part of who we are. You don’t love someone in spite of their flaws, you love them because of their flaws. That is part of what makes them who they are!
Who is to say that they are flaws? Faults, errors, defects, mistakes, imperfections . . . the list is quite extensive. Who is it that decides that someone has a flaw or a defect? Society has a very narrow view of, well, everything. Not everyone fits nicely or easily into that narrow hole. I don’t and I’m proud of it!
That cracked pot was able to share without knowing. It was providing a service, a benefit, to those it knew nothing about. There are great accolades for people who intentionally try to benefit society and we need that. We need them. We also need people who by their very presence make the world a better place. And that’s something we can all do. By being a good person we can help to make our world brighter. By letting our cracks show and sharing of ourselves. We do make a difference every day. I would like to consider myself a cracked pot, how about you?