Speak Softly

I have a little piece of paper in my pocket right now that says, “Speak Softly.”  I wrote it yesterday as something to try and do differently.  (You can read about it here.)  I plan to keep this in my pocket for some time.  It doesn’t mean to speak in a quiet voice, but to rather speak words that are soft, loving, kind and encouraging.  I have moments, like I’m sure you do as well, that I don’t speak softly and that’s why those words are in my pocket.

I wonder why a 17 year-old boy goes into a school and shoots a gun at the administrators and then kills himself.   I wonder why a 22 year-old man shoots people in the grocery store and then smiles for his mug shot. 

I wonder if someone didn’t speak softly to them.  Were the words people used around them too hard for their hearts to hear?  

Did words cause them pain in some way? Were they wounded by words themselves?  

It really hurts to hear these stories and in no way do I blame the parents or those close to these young men for the gunman’s actions.  They chose to do what they did.  They are responsible for their actions.

Yet. Still. Wonder.

If soft words had always been spoken to them, would they have made the choices they did?  Would their worlds have been different?  It’s a question we’ll never know the answer to, but it has touched me deeply to see these sad young men hurting so much that they have to hurt others as a way to release their own pain. 

I want my words to my children and to my husband to be spoken softly.  Will it make them stronger people?  Will it make them feel loved?  Will it make them know my love for them is the greatest emotion I have?  I hope so.  I hope so. 

Words are powerful things and can be used to change the world, one word at a time.  My words should be spoken softly and maybe they will rock my children’s and husband’s world, one word at a time.  Today and tomorrow and the many days after that, I will be conscience about that little piece of paper in my pocket.  It will remind me to speak softly.  To speak softly.

Tuesday Day Brightners

Find the fanciest glass you have.  I’ll wait.  Go get it.  Go on.   Fill it will ice and the coldest water you have.  Squeeze some lemon or lime into it.  Now sit down and enjoy it by a window with a view.    This only takes three minutes, maybe five if you’re pokey, but it’s five minutes for you.  Peace and quiet and cold water.  Repeat as necessary throughout your day.

Find a blank sheet of paper.  Get a pen, not a pencil.  (Pencil can be erased and we’re not going back.  We’re moving forward.)  Now, write down one thing you’d like to do differently.  It can be anything.  It doesn’t have to be profound.  (Mine says….”Speak Softly.”)  Tear around the words so it’s small, fold it up and put it in your pocket.  For the rest of the day or however long it takes to do it differently, keep it in your pocket.   When it becomes a habit, throw it away.  Repeat as necessary.

Sit down in a warm spot.  Grab a blanket and wrap it around you if you need to.  Close your eyes and listen to your heartbeat.  Breath in an out your nose slowly.  Keep your eyes closed for several minutes while you do this.  Don’t go to sleep but stay focused on your heartbeat and just be.  Be.  Repeat as necessary.

Enjoy your Tuesday.

A Layer of Proof

Some people are born to write while others are born to sing.  There are those that know how to take the most beautiful pictures and those that have an eye for fashion.   Some people love to cook and can make a meal from nothing and it tastes divine, while others can paint a portrait of their cat and you’d swear the cat would meow if you touched it.

How did the artist become an artist?  How did they know what to do when the paintbrush was in their hand? How did the singer know they could sing and create music so beautiful that everyone stopped to listen?  How did the seamstress know how to make the blouse tapered just so creating a garment so beautiful everyone wanted to have one? 

Are these gifts God has placed in their souls and just at the right moment, the door is unlocked and the gift emerges upon the stage for all to see?  How does this happen? 

I want to know.

How does a writer create a story so unique that the reader cannot put the book down for fear the story will continue on while the book is set down?  Where do the ideas come from?  How does a photographer take a picture of a tree and have it evoke such emotion in the viewer?  What do they see when they look at the tree?  Is it the same tree I see?

How can a child pick up a violin and play notes they’ve never seen or heard, yet the bow flies across the strings and their fingers move like bottled up energy?  How can someone know six languages and speak them fluently with no hesitation and understand the words so foreign to most of us?

I want to know.

Perhaps this is another layer of proof that God is out there somewhere and in each of us at the same time.  There are gifts in each of us just waiting to emerge into the world, some more visible than others, some quieter than others, but there nonetheless. 

Combat Boots and a Scotch on the Rocks

I heard her before I saw her.  She was louder than she should have been in her conversation with the woman leaning against the wall.  I didn’t like what I heard either.  I crossed my fingers she wasn’t in line next to me and was thankful she wasn’t.  I could still hear her however.  @3$*C%X#.  Not words I use or care to listen to.

We boarded the plane and were thankful she was in the next group to board, but I was thankful too soon.  She sat down in the empty seat right behind us.  The woman next to me sighed as well.  My husband and I looked at each other and contemplated moving ourselves, but had just put our things away and were now settled for the three-hour flight.  We decided to stay put.  This is a decision we would soon regret.

Together our row was secretly praying she would fall asleep and the rest of the flight would be just fine, but no such luck.  She talked or rather @3$*C%X# the entire flight. @3$*C%X# this, @3$*C%X# that, @3$*C%X# this and that.   It was unbelievable. Not only was there swearing but completely inappropriate discussions about things you just don’t discuss on an airplane with strangers! Everyone around us began to mumble to themselves under their breath about her, yet none of us said one word to her. 

I should have politely asked her to refrain from her language choices until we reached our destination for the benefit of the 15 year old girl sitting in between her and the window passenger (who I might add, continued to egg her on incessantly the entire flight and joined in the swearing fest occasionally so as not to be outdone by her counterpart). There was also a row of two children two rows in front of her under the age of 10 who I know could hear her as well.   But I didn’t.  We didn’t.  None of us did.  Why? 

No one wants to create a fuss or ruckus.  We all just want to be in our own little worlds and be left alone to read, nap or eat our sandwich.  I know for a fact she was bothering my seatmate as well as the family directly across from her, yet none of us said one word to her, nor did the flight attendants.  No, they actually gave her a free drink of scotch on the rocks for her service as a Marine.  Go figure.  Not only had she been sharing her drinking escapades from New Year’s but admitted she was still a little hung over.  I know.  Let’s give her a drink to honor her and ruin at least eight other people’s flights. 

When we landed, we couldn’t have been happier to find out that she was going on to a destination different from our own.  What a relief!  My seatmate however was gathering her things and looking for a new seat, as she was to continue on with our lovely passenger.

Upon de-boarding we quickly made a plan to be a little more observant on our seat selection for our return trip.  No screaming, crying children who required a pacifier and no twenty-four year old potty mouthed scotch drinking women wearing combat boots would be on our list of candidates for seatmates.  We’d be on the look out for computer engrossed, book reading adults who only nodded at us rather than spoke to us.  My kind of passengers! 

Get Your Kitty Calendar Out

The new year is now upon us.   It’s official.  It’s time to get out those kitty calendars or your joke a day calendar and begin filling in all those empty days.  I’ve been working on our family calendar this weekend and think by the end of the day, I’ll have ours filled clear through to April and even possibly a few items on the May calendar as well. 

The new year seems to give us permission to start fresh, throw out the old and in with the new.   I have been thinking about what I’d like to do differently for this coming year and find myself filled with grand ideas and new promises I probably won’t keep for myself.   The one that comes to mind most frequently though is a simple one really.

Enjoy this life I’ve been given and stop worrying about all the things I cannot change.

I tend to control or think I should control all that is able to be controlled and frankly, it stresses me out most days.  I waste more time worrying about all the things that are not that important and end up spoiling many days doing so.   I want to control that impulse - funny huh?  I want to “control” the impulse to “control” everything. 

I know this is no easy task as this is a personality trait that I am not fond of and am very aware of and in tune to.   It’s on my mind all the time, so letting go of it is definitely going to be a challenge, but I need to do this or I’m going to wear myself out.  I need a few empty spaces on my calendar this year.

The world isn’t going to cave in around me if I don’t have the house spotless when someone comes over or don’t have the laundry done.  It would probably do me some good to pull out a pair of jeans from the dirty clothes and wear them again.  Just to prove to myself that the world will go on. 

I’ve noticed lately as well that I’ve been making my way to a new section of the library and my favorite hang out spot, Barnes and Noble.  I have a pretty extensive reading list this year and it includes more than just fiction and stories of walks by the ocean.  I want to read The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown, Taking Flight by Kelly Rae Roberts, The Miracle Detective by Randall Sullivan just to name a few. 

In this new year, our calendars will be filled with this and that, but I hope to leave a little white space in there as well for reading, spirit filling activities, and time to be creative. I hope that this new year will allow you to dream big, be who you are meant to be and allow you to see all the doors and windows of possibility that exist for you (and me).  Happy New Year.