Helping Hands

I've talked a bit in this space before about accepting help; how difficult it is for some to do so. That used to be me.  To an extent, it still is - but not in as many instances.

One of the instances in which I find I will readily accept help, is in the area of career development.  I have been blessed to cross paths on this journey with several people who've had my interest at heart.  The role that they have played in my life cannot be overstated.  Even as I have had to do my part - dream; study; apply myself; work hard; aim high - theirs has not gone unnoticed.  For the most part, it's the inspiration.  I've often said that sometimes, you just need to be inspired.  And it's true.  Sometimes you just need to feel that wind beneath your wings.  Sometimes you just need to hear that voice beside you saying, "Don't worry.  You can do it.  I believe in you."

And, I have had that.  I've had that from my parents and siblings.  I've had that from teachers at all levels.  I've had that from dear friends and new friends and, occasionally, associates and colleagues.  And, while I do not take for granted that which I've received from family and friends, it is the help from senior persons in my field for which I am very thankful at this point.  I imagine I could look at it this way.  Years ago, I got the foundation of inspiration and encouragement down pat.  Now, as I venture into new areas, God is blessing me with a new kind of help; help for this time, if you will.  I don't have blinkers on, shutting everything else out; crushing people beneath me and all that jazz.  But, I do aspire to positions in which I feel I would make a positive difference; know exactly what I'm doing and why; like what I do; be good at it and impact the way in which the service or program is carried out, to make people's lives better.

It helps to be prepared for when new opportunities arise. It doesn't make sense to simply sit waiting - as if with a sense of entitlement - twiddling the thumbs and nothing else. Additionally, sometimes, having done the work, I've had to put myself out there, expressing an interest, even if there is a probability of not getting it.  However, by now we've heard the term in biz-speak: "top of mind".  Yes, I've seen that "top of mind" thing work!  Recently, I wanted to get into a particular program and was told that it was closed for the rest of the fiscal year.  Well, wouldn't you know it?  I got a call sometime after when a vacancy arose.  As the caller put it, when he was asked whether anyone would be interested at this point, I was the first person to come to mind! Long and short, I got in.

That's the kind of thing I'm talking about when I say "help".  It mightn't be something tangible, but it is a move that prepares you for, or propels you into, more favourable positions for greater development.  It's sad but true, that in the world of business, many new opportunities are realized through "who knows you".  The main question is whether you are prepared for an opportunity, or simply "fake it 'til you make it"?  Those who receive the kind of help that propels them into a position for which they are clearly unsuited, more often than not make the lives of those around them sheer terror!  But, that's another story.  My point here is that for those of us who are in fact prepared; who are ready, willing and able to accept and assume the role at hand, should not be abashed about 1) making our interest known 2) indicating that interest to the right people (some co-workers will sabotage your efforts if they get wind of them) and 3) graciously accept the help you receive.  It may be in a simple word of encouragement/inspiration or a tip or a lead or a recommendation or a reference or a definite connection!  Then, 4) show up and apply yourself to that for which you have been preparing all this time!  And, for heaven's sake 5) please turn around and say thank you!

There's a saying, "Favour ain't fair," referring, I believe, to God's favour upon His children in the many aspects of their lives.  There are some inexplicable ways in which He works out things in the interest of His children, sometimes defying reason, and making them come out on top.  And, there's no point in arguing about it.  It just is.  I believe in God's favour.  I have experienced it oh so many times.  But, His word admonishes us to keep from being slothful; if a man doesn't work, he shouldn't eat; honour Him with the first fruits of our increase - and so on.

So, yes, these days, I find I'm graciously accepting help in this regard.  I try to keep myself in "ready" mode.  Y'know?  "Just in cases." And,  I'm humbly acknowledging and accepting God's favour - His helping hand.  Again, no point in arguing with it.  It just is.



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
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The Eyes Have It

Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to engage in conversation with a stranger - a white fellow.  No details necessary.  The point of the reference is to say that he told me a story about a certain reaction of a friend of his who was, to put it this way, not inclined to Blacks.  You see, he had another friend, a Black girl, whom he had the pleasure of introducing to his white lady friend.  As he did so, he related, the eyes of his white lady friend glossed over; like they just...changed.  He asked whether I'd ever seen that.  I told him no.  I don't recall ever witnessing something like that.  He said he knew for sure that his white friend was uncomfortable when, in addressing his Black friend, said, "Oh!  Your eyes are beautiful!"  And that was pretty much all she'd said to her the whole time.  He then went on to explain to me that her eyes were kinda like those of "Aunt Jemima" - big and round.  He got the sense that they stood out as such a strong feature, that her sole comment was on the very thing that helped make her feel uncomfortable; as if she couldn't help herself.  And, in an even more telling reaction, her eyes "glossed over".

I'm still not a hundred percent certain of what that looks like.  What I can say is that I believe I saw something pretty close to it the other day.  At least, something that made me immediately think of that story.

Recently, I had the occasion to talk with, let's call her, a saleswoman.  Now, by this, (and having gone through some form of Mary Kay Independent Consultant training and what not), I have a fairly good idea of the tiered approach, and a whiff of the psychology that's usually used, in scenarios such as these.  They don't tell you cost up front; you are asked to share; you get involved emotionally; you bond; you invest time.  And the more time and emotional involvement, the harder it is to walk away - the more guilt you are likely to feel if you do. Or so they hope!

Anyway, as Ms. Lady went through her spiel - and I'm participating because 1) I was curious about their offer 2) I've convinced myself I need to do new things to help me with material for my writing if nothing else 3) I had the time - I became engaged.  And I shared - willingly.  Then, it got to cost.  There was no way of telling that I was shocked at the prices that jumped out at me.  (Ever been invited to a Direct Buy session?  Kinda like that.)  So, when she asked what option would I prefer, I coolly answered, "I need some time to think about this."  Ladies and gentlemen?  That was when I saw what could only be described as her eyes glossing over.  We were about two hours in, and here I was, about to make her time add up to naught.

Her pleasant facial expression - the one that had accompanied the offer for coffee or tea; the one that met me at the door; the one that had listened so intently as I'd "shared" - had disappeared a the sound of "need some time."   As I told her, I'd had no idea of the cost - I had asked and (of course), no one had mentioned it.  But, now that I know, and it's more than I expected, I would have to think about it.  I held to my position and she was not amused.  Like, seriously.  I have never before experienced such an about-turn in someone's demeanour, countenance, approach and general disposition in such a short time.  I reminded her that I was assured there'd be no obligation after the information session.  She held that that was true but.  She couldn't grasp that I needed to think about forking out more than I'd expected; I couldn't grasp that she couldn't. I still held to my position and explained that once I had some time to think about it, I might get back in touch in a few days or something.

Well, she excused herself, saying that she was going to tell her superior that I was leaving.  In short, he made me a seriously discounted offer.  That was not the reason for my hesitation.  (I had had the impression that what they had on paper was cast in stone.) As it turned out, it was a heck of an offer!  I took it.

But, the eyes, man!  The eyes!  They just...changed.  The light went out; the smile disappeared.  Her face got dull.  Her expression one of incredulity.  (Someone said the other day that a certain politician's smile doesn't reach his eyes.  I'd thought of that then, too.)  She wasn't smiling at that point, but, her effort to remain pleasant was betrayed by that look of consternation/disbelief/incredulity and, kinda bordering a bit on anger. (Well, maybe reading a bit much into it?  Nah.  Just enough.)

And, after I accepted?  Yep.  The smile came back.  This time, gentility.  I kid you not.  It came to me after that I should've asked whether I was the first person to say no; to ask for time to make a decision.  It was not a distinction for which I was seeking but, based on her reaction, it sure looked that way. 

They say, "In vino, veritas." (In wine, [there is] truth).  That episode reminded me that truth lies within.  And the eyes have it.



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

"At Water's Edge"

Water splashing at my feet
Wind blowing salty air in my face
My body is bathed in the
Calm, cool, peaceful surroundings of nature.
An atmosphere of tranquility.
The seagull cries
I hear the noise of the water
As heavy waves hit the rocks.

I sit on one, remembering those days
When I used to wish I could enjoy this enchantment
With you.


-Dnafcnatgada
Oct. 1, 1987


www.cyopro.com
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Behind the Wall

The brouhaha has kinda died down now, well, for the "regular" Facebook users.  I'm thinking, for the developers that showed up at Facebook's f8 conference on September 22?  Not so much. Much has been written about the during and after - and I'm not even going to pretend to be a techie.  But, what I am interested in are two issues.

Something about this sentence (from the same site referenced above) disturbs me: "He said that he wanted people to “fill in the gaps” so that all users’ personal information was on their Facebook profile."  I believe that was largely in reference to the soon-to-be-released "Timeline" feature.  I'd tweeted about it that day - or the day after.  Stteo: "It's not your online life; it's your life online!"  Now, I'm for slowly - and guardedly - adapting to advances in communication technology.  I'm just not comfortable with putting my life, for each moment to be tracked, online.  Yes, yes.  Manage your privacy settings, you might say.  Even then, why would I want another human being - any other human being - to be able to be all up in my stuff?  And that's just for those to whom permission is given.  There are those, behind the scenes, with access to servers on which ALL that information is stored.  I like my life offline, TYVM.  And, for the parts of it that I allow to be online? Well, they're...parts; parts that don't offer too much personal information.  (Having said that, though, I will be taking a third look at my online presence.)  It will be interesting to see the road down which this new development leads; the advantage enjoyed by those who use it.

And, speaking of behind the scenes, this next issue has little to with the latest FB developments.  It has more to do with the tendency of folks, who, because of the luxury of anonymity behind the wall of ones and zeroes, tend to unleash their awful selves.  Who knew that there was so much venom and vitriol in some folks?  I'm talking about comment boards, social networking sites, t.o.night newspaper (Toronto).  From friends of friends to total strangers, if you should happen to offend one of these persons, they go behind that wall and let loose!

To be honest, that's not something that I've experienced.  (Well, not counting that one occasion on which a 'friend of a friend' made a comment after mine on FB - kind of questioning and disagreeing with mine - and ended her's with "kmt" (kiss mi teet).  For the uninitiated, that's a Jamaican gesture (not about to teach the 'how to') that meant, in that context, "You're talking foolishness and I'm dismissing you!"  As I recounted that to my sis, she (a more regular user of FB than I) was quick to point out that some of these people can be "dangerous" with their comments.)  I have been, for a while, simply just looking on in amazement.

I read a comment on the Gleaner's Letter of the Day on its website a few days ago, that, I think, captures much of this sentiment. It was made by "Ibumpg".  Writing from behind the wall?  Yes.  And how:

"Most people globally, like to comment or criticize.  This is best done from the sidelines.  We 'preen our feathers' and 'flap our wings' and announce how knowledgeable and experienced we are but will not enter the field of play.  You see, analyzing decisions made by others is always easier that making them, especially under scrutiny.  We are all great in hindsight.

Many of us would never present ourselves as political representatives, not because we consider ourselves incompetent, but because we are not prepared to be treated the way we do them."
 
This isn't something that's going away any time soon.  As long as there's the provision for anonymity, there will be a spewing of venom and vitriol by total strangers.  In some cases,even by those whom we know.  A little change of name here; a little moniker or handle there, and they enjoy the freedom to lash out.  I imagine that some folks need some form of outlet.  It may be therapeutic for them.  I just think that when it's carried out in this way, it simply reeks of incivility.

What of the art of (civil) conversation?


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Things

I'm not a fan of things.  Y'know?  Things that are acquired for reasons like, "It'd make a great conversation-starter!"  No.  For me, there have to be more creative, less expensive ways to start a conversation.  I imagine that many of those conversation-starters have been picked up at many a garage sale.  I used to enjoy going to garage sales.  Not only for the off-chance that I might discover the multi-million dollar painting behind the painting, but, because I liked looking at certain kinds of old things.

But, I've stopped.  Well, I've cut waaay down.  I've convinced myself that, for the most part, other people's discards are making their way into my home.  More than likely, in the not-too-distant future, I might want to get rid of them, too.

Before moving into my new space, I kinda made a deal with myself.  I would be very careful about the "things" I acquire.  They should have utility value built right in!  Now, anyone can see how I would be able to rationalize my way into getting that 3-piece work of art. (That wall needed something to cheer it up. It's blue!")  But, I think so far, for the other purchases, I've held up.  My prayer is that I'll be wise in my spending.  And, of course, I'm mindful of St. Luke 12:15: "A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things he possesseth."
 
One of the motivations for that deal was the fact that I already have too many things I treasure; items of high sentimental, nostalgic and my-sweat-and-blood-is-in-this value.  I think I might have mentioned this in an earlier post, or a tweet or something, but, there came a time recently when I had to declutter.  Create space.  That'd be space to dance, to stretch. Even space with which to do nothing but to connect one part of the house to another.  Not every space needs to be filled!

So now, I try to acquire and keep the things that, as I said, have some built-in utility value. Bonus if it looks nice and promises more durability.  (It's true.  You get what you pay for!)  The other motivation was from a piece that was read several months ago by my Pastor - Pastor Robbie Symons of Harvest Bible Chapel, Oakville.  I asked for, and was emailed, a copy from his office.  My plan is to have it framed and hung.  A bit of a reminder, y'know?  "Just in cases." (Love Actually.)


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Mr. and Mrs. Thing

 Mr. and Mrs. Thing are a very pleasant and successful couple.  At least that’s the verdict of most people who tend to measure success with a thingometer.  When the thingometer is put to work in the life of Mr. and Mrs. Thing, the result is startling.  There he is, sitting down on a very luxurious and expensive thing, almost hidden by a large number of other things.  Things to sit on, things to sit at, things to cook on, things to eat from.  All shiny and new.  Things, things, things.  Things to clean with, things to wash with, things to clean and things to wash.  Things to amuse, things to give pleasure, things to watch, and things to play.  Things for the long, hot summer and things for the short, cold winter.  Things for the big thing in which they live, and things for the garden, and things for the lounge, and things for the kitchen, and things for the bedroom.  And things on four wheels, things on two wheels, and things to put on top of the things on four wheels, and things to pull behind the four wheels, and things to add to the interior of the thing on four wheels.  Things, things, things .  And there in the middle are Mr. and Mrs. Thing, smiling, pleased as pink with their things, thinking of more things to add to their things, secure in their castle of things.

Well, I just want you to know that your things can’t last.  They’re going to pass.  There’s going to be an end to them.  Maybe an error in judgment, maybe a temporary loss of concentration, or maybe you’ll just pass them off to the second-hand thing dealer.  Or maybe they’ll wind up a mass of mangled metal being towed off to the thing yard.  And what about all the things in your house? Well, it’s time for bed.  Put out the cat.  Make sure your lock the door to make sure some thing-taker doesn’t come and take your things.  And that’s the way life goes, doesn’t it? And someday when you die, they only put one thing in the box. 

You.

Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Invaluable Collection or Intrusion ?

On returning from lunch with sis the other day, I got to a traffic light about half-a-block from my workplace.  As I got to the intersection to wait on the walk sign, I heard 'Oooh!"  Not in an "Ooh and ahh" way, but in that guttural tone that makes you know, instantly, that something has gone terribly wrong.

I looked at the bus/coach that had just stopped in the intersection while making a left and, almost instinctively, looked beneath it.  There they were, his two legs.  No, they hadn't been severed.  They were still attached to his body.  But, that was all I could make out from his lying right next to the left front wheel.

At the next signal, I crossed and got to a better vantage point.  It was an elderly man - maybe late seventies/early eighties, white, gray-headed. There he lay.  Still.  Just as it had happened, one woman literally took off!  She dashed across the road (from where I had been waiting at the light).  By the time I got to the other side, getting a better look, she was kneeling beside him, her phone to her ear.

Of course, a few dozens of us - on both sides of the street -  had, by now, stopped to look.  I had seen the driver make a mad dash from the bus, leaving the door open (of course!), round the front and, again, by the time I got to the other location, he was also already kneeling by the man's side.  So, there were about four people - the woman on her cell; a bulky looking guy picking up the man's bag of grocery; the driver and a police officer who had been on the beat at that intersection (or pretty close by), leaning his shoulder in as he spoke on his device.

There were a few things that struck me as I stood there.  One, I got there after the accident occured. (Somehow I think I need to make that clear in writing.)  I saw some of what had happened just after.  He lay there, seemingly unable to move, while the four people did what they were doing as they/we waited for an ambulance to arrive.  I wondered how many people had actually seen it happen.  Y'know?  In real time.  Next, it somehow made sense (and I'm not trying to justify my non-involvement), that the folks who were close to him on the scene, were not being encumbered by anyone else.  It took about five minutes for an ambulance to arrive.  It was at about this point I noticed something I hadn't even thought of before.  A man stopped close to me, held up his smartphone, and started some form of recording - not sure whether they were still or moving shots.  Now, I'm pretty sure that there were quite a few of us within that gathering with smartphones.  Yet, he was the only one I noticed.  Whether he was the only one doing it, is not really my point.  My thoughts are going to the why.  Why did some of us decide that this was a moment not to be captured in picture or video?  Even after I saw him do this, I still did not have the "urge" to record.  I dunno.  Wasn't it like a sort of intrusion on the poor gentleman's demise?  And, what the heck would I be doing with that shot anyway?  What place would it have in my collection?

I'm not sure at what point he stopped recording.  All he'd got from me was that glance.  It could have been after one of the paramedics stooped by the old man with a flat board-looking contraption.  Maybe it was after they gently turned him  - he had been lying on his belly with one side of his face to the ground - revealing the other bloodied side.  I grimaced.  Maybe it was after the paramedic, after assisting with that manoeuvre, rethought his choice, went back to the ambulance and returned with the gurney.  At whatever point it was, I imagine that the man and his phone had got their fill and he'd moved on.

When the gurney came out, that was when I moved on.  I told myself that he was in very capable hands; prayed for his speedy recovery and left the scene.  I really hope that he fares well.

My question lingered...lingers, however.  Who thinks to record an accident like that?  I mean, it's something that happens all the time.  Unfortunately.  And some people are going to record - hence the terms, iReporter and Citizen Journalists, etc.  But, in the heat of the moment, why does the thought not even occur to some of us who are social media users with our smartphones at the ready?  Why do some of us not even think to capture such a moment for posterity or sharing or sending to a media house or whatever?  Opting, instead, to behold it through no other lens than our own?  I understand that this has been an on-going debate for journalists - especially photo-journalists.  If you just happen to be there when something goes horribly wrong, do you rush to help?  Or, do you grab your camera, start recording and hope beyond hope that "someone else" will assist, while you capture a key piece for your story later on? 


I imagine that others would ask, why write about it in a blog - even days after; even as I ask my own provocative questions?

Could the answer be as simple as, "To each her own"?


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

At For-ty, I'm Beginning to Understand... 2

My thanks for the kind comments on my previous post (via FB and email).   Got a few from unexpected - but delightful - sources.  Shall we continue?

At For-ty, I'm beginning to understand why some people enquire, regarding their recently-deceased loved one, "Did he/she suffer?"  I didn't quite get it, really, whenever I'd heard it before my maternal grandmother's passing.  Her's was sudden.  And because of the how, that was one of the foremost thoughts in my mind.  "Did she suffer?"  It happened a few years before I turned For-ty, but, it's something on which I've since dwelt.  Now, having heard of a few other people who've passed on since then - whether relatives or relatives of friends - I've tried to understand what it is about knowing whether they suffered toward the end that is so important.  Admittedly, I haven't come up with much.  However, the little that I have says this.  Those of us left to mourn their loss just need that last bit of assurance that they went without suffering.  We are just glad and thankful that their final moments were not awful ones.  Even to the end, we want the best for those we love!  The answer we are always hoping to hear is, "No.  He/She didn't suffer."  For, in a strange yet comforting way, that answer brings a great relief!  And we think, "Good.  I'm glad to hear that."   In another sense, it's kinda for our benefit, too.  In an unintentionally selfish way, we are comforted knowing that they went without agony.  For, if they hadn't, how much more painful for us to know that we could not have been there to alleviate some of that pain/agony/suffering?  But, I'm wont to think it's more the former.  We want the best for our loved ones even in the end.

I'm beginning to understand that it is important to have a hand I can hold every now and then.  Sometimes I just need a hand to hold; that could be all the conversation and connection I need.  That hand, at the right moment, makes me feel comforted and loved and special and that I'm not in it (whatever it is) alone.  It could be the hand of a friend or a family member - even that of a stranger.  Hm.  True story.  I had been invited to a function that was to take place on the 51st (or was it 54th?) floor of a TD Bank building downtown Toronto.  I am scared of heights.  As the elevator ascended, I said as much to the two strangers who were en route to the same function.  The woman next to me said stteo: "If you want, you can hold my hand."  She must've heard the sigh of relief as I said, "Thank you!" And I reached out and took her hand.  Long after we'd exited the elevator - after what seemed like days - I kept thanking her.  But, that's what I'm talking about.  A hand to hold at the right moment.

I'm beginning to understand that people need people.  One of my fav stories is about a little girl who was asking for her dad's help to get undressed.  She was about 5 years old.  The father knew she could do it on her own and told her so.  She replied stteo: "Yes Daddy.  But, people need people, even when they can do things by theirselves [sic]."   I've grown accustomed to doing a lot of things by myself.  I hardly ever ask for help.  I don't like DIY, so I buy things that don't require assembly.  And, if they do, the store "will send somebody out."  But, that's beginning to change - because "people need people."  It's not just about putting things together, either.  I've found that it's about the company and the connection and the camaraderie and the celebration of unified achievement that comes with getting help and doing things together.  And, of a truth, there are some things that I simply am not able to do on my own. For those things, it is okay to ask for help.  And, wouldn't you know it?  The people to whom I reach out usually say yes.  (They may sound a tad surprised, but that's beside the point.)  I'm reminded of my fav Tina Turner song, "Help" (a cover of The Beatles, I believe.  And, btw, this live version sounds exactly like the one I taped from radio in the mid-80s, btw.)  It starts out, "When I was younger/So much younger than today/I never needed anybody's help in any way/And now those days have gone/I'm not so self-assured/And now I find, I've changed my mind/I've opened up the doors."   Guess life's just like that.  You get to that point, at some point...

I'm beginning to understand that it's okay to know who I am and what those things are up with which I will not put! :-) That I do not have to apologize for liking or disliking, wanting or not wanting, preferring or not preferring certain things.  In my conveying these preferences, I remain respectful - more so diplomatic - with a hint of a smile.  Sometimes an outright one.  A few years ago, in two jobs I held for (not surprisingly) under two years, an unfamiliar sense of relief swept over me when I finally admitted to myself, "I hate my job! I hate going to work there!"  I didn't leave right away.  But, somehow, that verbalized truth added gusto to my steps.  I didn't have to hold it in anymore and was able to endure the remaining months without imploding!  At For-ty, it's easy to sense what's in sync with my own preferences and likes and so on.  Easy to spot.  If it's not, it's kinda like another fav story of mine from years ago.  The watchman at a lighthouse kept watch night after night. A bell or a horn or something went off marking a given time every night.  One night, due to some malfunction, the bell didn't go off.  The watchman was startled out of his sleep by the omission of the familiar sound and jumped up, "What was that?" 

For me, in some cases of a new acquaintance/relationship, the omission of a quality or trait that should be in sync is easy to spot.  My "What was that?" moment sometimes lasts too long, as I give way to my main resolution (at For-ty) to be more "open". Whatever the heck that means!  Well, what I meant at the time  - and I imagine I still do now - is that I wouldn't be quick to write people off for saying or doing the occasional "dufus" thing.  Get to know 'em.  A few traits mightn't be in sync, but, I'd give it time.  In general, try new things; go for the adventure.  You know?  The one outside my square - home, work, church, store?  But, the truth is, it's easier said than done.  As that longtime quote (don't recall who said it) goes, "I want somebody who's already ticking the way he should be."

I'm beginning to understand that it's okay to want that; that and a number of other things on that shrunken list.  I've had a few relationships over the years and in each of them I have "loved thickly" - as that Toni Morrison line goes.  For, "what good is thin love?"  I'm glad to say that I have learned something from each of them.  After a six- or seven-year break from dating, I now desire my him.  Like I said, the list has shrunken but a few things have remained. He has to love our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Just...just take my word for it that other than that, there is no point.  He must love me - and like me.  Be each other's BFF.  He has to be affectionate - occasional PDA, not so much to make me or other folks uncomfortable - and romantic.  Sense of humour; good job (that he likes); can help the kids with their homework - especially Maths and Science and not be afraid of li*ards!  The laundry thing?  I'm kinda getting over that, given that it has become more convenient now.  But, if he wishes, I might be up for negotiating wrt to that particular chore!  Other attributes/qualities/traits/characteristics I pray that I can live with.  Another woman might go, "No way!"  While for me, re that same trait, I'd be like, "Pshww! I'm fine with that."

Hmmm.  I'm definitely beginning to understand that as much as I desire my him to be this that and the other, wherever he is, he is praying for his one and only to be this that and the other, too!  So, as someone said to me the other day, "You don't know how sexy it is that you have your sh*t together," (he had asked me to excuse the language), I take some comfort that I am on the right track.  Funny thing is, because I do have much of my stuff together, it could be a tad more difficult to discern the right one.  I'm old fashioned and do want to marry for love.  Not because it makes economic sense; not because of what I have etc.  For love.  And, it is exactly for this reason that I have to continuously seek God's guidance in my interactions with those with whom I come into contact - on and offline.  (Yeeeah.  The square isn't working. Other means necessary. Or so I think.)  I will be true to him.  As Proverbs 31 admonishes, his heart will be safe with me and I will do him good and not evil all the days of my life.

I'm beginning to understand the love and mercy of God.  That I truly am undeserving of His grace and mercy and lovingkindess.  That my only plea is that His Son, Jesus Christ, died for me and calls me friend and I'm joint heir with Him.  That in Christ's doing so, God's wrath and judgment that I do deserve was satisfied - not by any good deed or any other thing I could possibly have done!  That Romans 5: 7-8 and 1Cor 1: 18-29 will always tear me up and bring me to my knees in gratitude to Him.  When I was about 27 or so, I experienced Christ's rescue.  Sometime in this my year of For-ty, I have experienced His mercy and His love.  There are no words to describe how grateful I am to Him; how much I love Him and how much He means to me.  Yes, I'm beginning to get a glimpse of how much I mean to Him.  I simply ask these days that He help me use up my talents and apply the necessary hard work; that He help me be obedient and fearless!

Oh, there's so much more I'm beginning to understand.  People I don't know will care about me; people I've known for a while, won't.  Sometimes I have to apologize, even - and especially - when I don't want to.  Sometimes I have to force myself / be my own cheerleader, to get cracking on the things I must do - even when they're things I ordinarily enjoy doing. Sometimes I need to relax. I need to learn how.  I'm laughing a lot less these days, maybe 'cause I've been living alone for a while now.  Still, I need to get back to that place.

Sigh. Clearly, this post won't hold 'em all.  Might have to do a Part III  - at some point.   But, thankfully, I am beginning to understand these things.  I may never get them all down pat.  But, I'd like to think I'm off to a good start.


Claudia
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