This week's Popinjay prompt is Strong.
And when I was done? I felt strong. So very strong.
I had a hard time with this one. The weather has been pretty frightful, so I haven’t really been inspired to get out there and take photos…if it’s not nasty wet and rainy out, it’s downright frigid.
SO, I thought long and hard about what Distant means to me…and how to represent it in a photo…
Distant (according to Dictionary.com): 1. Far off or apart in space; not near at hand; remote or removed; 2. Apart or far off in time; 3. Remote or far apart in any respect; 4. Reserved or aloof; not familiar or cordial.
What kept resonating in my head was the phrase “a distant memory”…
So, I give you just that…a distant memory, times gone by, a sunnier, more relaxed time…
Summer at Lake Winnipesauke, and two swimmers getting ready (in full scuba gear) to swim for what seemed like HOURS while my friend and I relaxed on beach chairs...ahhhhh
Be sure to stop by Michelle's to see what other distant photos people came up with.
My dear Twitter/Bloggie/hopefully one day real life friend Michelle Pendergrass recommended this read for me.
One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are - Ann Voskamp
What I read was the egalley/pre-published version of the book.
What follows is not so much a book review as it is my reaction to the words themselves.
From the very first words of the book I was drawn in. The beginning paragraph was captivating, engrossing, and so very poetic, I knew I wanted to read more.
By the end of the 1st chapter, I’m already in tears. But fully, completely involved in the story, in the pain, and in the questions…I want to read more.
By page 40 I can’t seem to stop reading, I lose sense of all around me and am completely immersed in her words, her beautiful, mesmerizing prose.
By page 122, I’m feeling filled up, inspired, excited to participate in my own life with the vigor the author is expressing in hers. I have all the same questions, all the same doubts, all the same struggles. I have all the same hopes, all the same desires, all the same grains of faith.
By page 141, I’m making a list. No, not a list of graces, though that will surely come soon enough, but a list of names. Names of people I will be gifting this book when it is released next year.
By page 167, I am craving that childlike wonder, and professing to live like a child. Every day. To see the world through the innocent and joyous eyes of a child.
By page 188, I’m in tears once again, and wanting to thank God for my friend, the one I call The Disciple, because she won’t hesitate to stop and hug a homeless person on the street.
By page 201 I realize I’m nearing the end, and I don’t want it to end…so I stop for the day, save the last 40 pages for another day’s grace…
By the last page, the acknowledgements, the Thank You’s…I am again in tears. Feeling blessed for having shared in these intimate moments with the author. And I am ready to begin my own list of One Thousand Gifts…and beyond.
This book is beautiful, full, enriching.
EVERYONE should read this book. Everyone.
It happened again. Not for the first time in my life, I’ve been faced with one of those moments when I feel that I’m just a little late.
Or perhaps, a lot late, as the case may be.
Either way, once again, my timing is off.
And I could sit here and tell you that I know, in my heart, that it isn’t about my timing anyway, God’s timing has its own pace, and it’s not mine to question.
I could sit here and tell you that in my brain, I know this, and I know that my time too, will come.
But at this moment, I feel like I’m chasing the white rabbit down the hole screaming once again, “I’m late, I’m late, for a very important…non-date”.
See, the thing is, I keep meeting the perfect guy for me. Or so I think. And then that annoying, and grammatically incorrect Alanis Morrisette song starts playing in my head…
“It’s like meeting the man of your dreams, and then meeting his beautiful wife”…Isn’t it Ironic?
No, it’s not ironic, in fact, it’s just plain cruel.
This vicious cycle of meeting “the one” only to realize he is someone else’s “one” started so long ago, I’m beginning to believe the universe hates me.
Shall we visit a few of the exhibits?
Exhibit A: and perhaps the most heartwrenching of all: The Soulmate (go on an click if you want the FULL story). To this day, I portend he was “the one”. I loved him with all I had. He too, loved me. But prior to meeting me, he’d given his heart and soul to another, and when she ripped it to shreds, he swore never to get married again. So, when I came along, fantastic as our relationship was, it stagnated. There was no moving forward with a man still stuck in the past…I was too late.
Exhibit B: A few years later, I received a visit from a male friend who had moved half way across the country many years before. We had been friends for nearly a decade, and never once had I thought of him as anything more, though I realized by then that he, perhaps, had at one point or another hoped I would. Either way, that day, as he sat in my living room, and we chatted amiably, it hit me. YES, there it is, it’s him. He’s the one. How had I not seen it before? But now I knew…now I could tell him. Almost instantly, as soon as I realized this, he turned to me and said “I have something to tell you”. Heart beats faster as I listen in anticipation… “I’m getting married” he says. Once again…I was too late.
Exhibit C: A few years ago I took a trip to meet up with a friend in Savannah. My flight down was a nightmare, started off by a mechanical issue on the plane, which would undoubtedly have made me miss my connecting flight. Along with 3 other passengers I was pulled off the flight and sent running to another airline, to board a different flight. One of these passengers was a man. A man I almost instantly clicked with. We chatted amiably as we waited for confirmation on this new flight, and in the process I discovered he was married. Moving on, I rushed to catch the flight, while he stayed behind to work out his own flight details, missing that flight. I chalked it up to just an unimportant meeting, until 2 days later, in Savannah, I ran into him on the street one night, just walking around. Again we chatted for a bit, and the chemistry between us was obvious, electric, cruel. He invited my friend and I to join him and his friend for a drink, but thinking of his wife, I declined and moved on. Annoyed with the universe…again, too late.
Exhibit D: More recently, there have been a myriad of friendships with men that have appeared in my life. All wonderful men. All men with whom there is chemistry, and friendship and…nothing more. Because each of these men, as it turns out, has already found a wife, a girlfriend, a partner. As a friend, I am happy to realize they are not for me. In fact, some of these wives, girlfriends, etc. are friends of mine as well, and as a true friend, I am glad, because I wish nothing less for my friends than what I would expect for myself. Therefore, if I feel these men contain some of the qualities I would want for myself, I can’t help but be thrilled my friends have found them. And the truth is, these guys really aren't "the one" for me, not at all...Still…I can’t help but think…if only…too late…
There are more such examples…so many, in fact, that I almost laugh now at the ridiculousness of the joke. Because it has to be a joke. Why the Universe would choose to place these men in my life, sometimes in the most unbelievable of circumstances, only to then just as quickly yank them out…can only be a cruel joke.
And again this weekend, it happened.
Attending a church event, I saw a man. A man I’d seen before, in a completely unrelated environment, with nothing but “faith” to connect the two events. No friends in common, no towns in common, really, nothing to connect the two events, but God.
I will not lie that for a moment (or several moments) I allowed my mind to get carried away, thinking “I wasn’t even sure I’d be attending this event today, and yet, here I am, and here he is…what are the odds? Could this be one of those ‘signs’ I’m learning to notice more of?”
The excitement of promise bubbled in me. Until, suddenly, I noticed his wedding band.
Go on, laugh with me…because really…what else is there to do?
I thought about this one a while.
Obviously, when I hear the word “imperfect” my first thought is: Myself.
Because I am not perfect. By no means am I perfect.
I am flawed. I am broken. I am a work in progress.
My life is not perfect.
It is chaotic. It is rushed. It is sometimes painful.
My house is not perfect.
It is messy. It is disorganized. It is too often too quiet and empty…lonely.
My friends are not perfect.
They are hurting. They are struggling. They are sometimes distant.
My family is not perfect.
We are loud. We are crazy. We are learning as we go.
My world is not perfect.
But it is my world. My family. My friends. My house. My life.
I am hyper critical of myself, not so much of the rest of the world around me (family, friends, house and world escape the critique).
I am never truly satisfied with what I see when I look in the mirror. With my attempts (and failures) at healthy eating, regular exercise, temper control, humility.
My imperfections stare out at me with unblinking fierceness, like a spotlight on a stage.
And yet…
My faith is a strong faith, and my God created me, and this life I live. If He formed me, in His image, then how can I possibly be any less than perfect?
My “imperfections” are what make me me; unique, one of a kind, and most of all, His.
No, I am not perfect, but I am Imperfectly Exactly Who I was Created to be.
And I’m perfectly happy with that.
(self-portraits are a big part of "letting go" for me...this one is a little older....Drama (the kitty) is quite a bit bigger now).
“Being happy doesn’t mean that everything is perfect, it means you’ve decided to look beyond the imperfections”. - Unkown
