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Category Archives: Write31DaysOctober2015

Day 31: This is Just the Beginning

This is the final day of October which means it is also the final day of the #write31days blog challenge. I have learned a great deal about myself and about my writing on this journey. I wasn’t sure I had “found my voice” which was the theme that I started this on, but I do believe I have started finding it. I think the foundation of any writer’s voice should be sincerity and honesty. Based on the feedback I’ve gotten, I think I’ve nailed that part! I believe that whatever writing project I take on, as long as I build it on that foundation, I will naturally find the voice I need for it.

I am at a crossroads in life and I’ve been able to ramble on more than a bit about my doubts and fears as well as my hopes and dreams. Not all questions have answers. Not all problems have solutions. Not all wishes come true. But every day is a new chance to take the next step in our journey. I was still feeling, even up until a few days ago, incredibly lost in my progress. Last night, upon noticing that it was the eve of the final day of this journey, I realized something: I’m not that lost.

“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” -Aristotle

You are what you do, not what you say you’ll do.” -C.G. Jung

So, having written for thirty-one days, I can say this: I’m a writer. I know that sounds like a completely basic statement, but listen to what I’m saying here: I, the girl who never really finished a project like this before because she didn’t feel like she was good enough, who didn’t feel capable, who didn’t know how to do it afraid, who didn’t know how to do it on a day that she didn’t feel inspired, who believed that she wasn’t worth anyone’s time reading her work, and who still pretty much believed that her dream was an illness called delusions of grandeur… That girl? She’s a writer. I am a writer. I didn’t fail this time. I didn’t take a day off. I made my hopes and dreams a priority and I crossed the finish line. I didn’t just say I’d do it and flake out. It may not have been great writing all the way through, but I did the work. I showed up and put the words on the page. I repeatedly wrote. I habitually wrote. According to Aristotle and Jung, I’m a writer. And I won’t argue with men of their calibre, even if they were still alive to argue with.

Perhaps I wasn’t ready before. Even when I’d write, I would rarely share it with anyone. Yet, I’ve shared all of this and had at least a few people read each post. Sometimes, far more than a few read. I don’t know why now, why this time worked. But it did work and I did finish and I shared whatever I came up with each day. I will forever be grateful for those of you who took this journey with me.

By no means am I done writing. And by no means am I done blogging. I will be taking a small break in order to prepare for an amazing event I get to attend next week. I will be at The Reformation Project’s conference in Kansas City where they work on bridging the gap between the LGBTQIA and faith communities. I will get to hear the amazing Vicky Beeching speak. I will be able to meet a few of my online buddies in person. I am incredibly excited and I’m sure I will be writing about the experience. I am also going to be devoting most of the rest of November to some of my fiction work that has been sitting idle for several weeks.

So, I leave you here for now, but this is not goodbye. I don’t know what awaits me in whatever tomorrows I may be blessed with. I don’t know if I’ll have some grand writing career, win the lottery, become a housewife, or maybe the Doctor will show up at my door and wisk me away in the T.A.R.D.I.S. to see sunrise on Gallifrey. But I know this: I’m going to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I’m going to keep hoping and dreaming and doubting and questioning. I’m going to keep finding my voice and applying it in whatever way I can to make myself and the world a little better place. I’m going to sing and act and cry and laugh and I most certainly am going to write. This is not the end, it is only the beginning.

 
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Posted by on 1 November 2015 in Write31DaysOctober2015

 

Day 30: Life is Not a Masquerade Ball

It’s nearly Halloween. It’s actually the 31st in some places already. I’ve waited until the last minute to decide if I’m dressing up tomorrow and what as. It’s fun to be someone else for a bit, to play and eat candy, and have free license to be completely different, or even to get to be yourself for a change without people judging you for it. Some people can’t do that any other night of the year.

For so many years of my life, I put on masks to suit those around me. To a degree, we all do and will continue to for our whole lives. Not every person, place, time, and circumstance can handle every side of you. But there is a difference between behaving appropriately for the situation versus hiding yourself and pretending you are something entirely different.

Masks can be survival tools when we are in a place our true selves would be unwelcome, unappreciated, or even in danger just for existing. Masks can also be a crutch when we are afraid of rejection, or judgement. Sometimes, they can be both. I know some people in abusive situations pretend they are someone/something else to keep their abusers happy, or at least to avoid antagonizing them. Sometimes, even when they are free from that relationship, they keep the masks like a security blanket because they’ve forgotten who they are, or because they are afraid that their abusers were right and they aren’t good enough.

I’ve been shedding my masks a little at a time, but never so much as the past few years. I’ve discovered that most of the reasons I wore them were lies about my worth and what was acceptable/good enough. Sometimes they were actually saying something about someone else, but I inferred it as applicable to me. I was told lies by my family, my friends, my teachers, my enemies. Most of them didn’t even know they were telling me these things. But they did. Most of the time, they didn’t know any better. But now I do. That may be why I’m so set on being honest, because the world is full of too many falsehoods, half-truths, lies, and masks.

I used to have this image in my mind, like I was looking at myself in a broken mirror. Each piece reflected me, but it was a slightly skewed version of me. I had gotten really good at showing people the version of me they wanted to see. The better I got at it, the more broken I became because I was constantly fracturing my images into more and more refined bits to please them. Each mask I shed, each fracture of mirror I healed, I became a more whole and real person. I mean, I was even lying to myself, showing myself the skewed images and the masks and saying “This is who you are!”

Guess what? I’m not perfect. I’m as flawed as anyone else on the planet. I’m not cool. I’m a giant geek/dork/nerd/weirdo. I’m insecure and I question and doubt everything. Well, almost everything. I do not question or doubt that I am a better person today in my quest for wholeness and realness, shedding masks, mending mirrors, and being the flawed weirdo that I am, than I ever was living and believing all of those lies.

“She threw away all of her masks, and put on her soul.” -Bshayer F.R.

I saw that this morning and thought, “This! This is what I’ve been doing! All of this work in my life summed up in twelve words!” Every day I get up and I find a new way to be me, to put on my soul and throw away another mask. And my soul is a mess, but it’s a beautiful mess and it’s mine. God gave it to me for a reason and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t to hide behind anyone else’s ideas of who I should be. And it is an awkward and terrifying process, but it is so freeing. So, reject me if you want, but I am not going to hide again or fracture myself to make you happy. I refuse to let Halloween be the one day each year that I can be the weird and messy me while wearing a mask all the rest of the time. This is my life, it is not a masquerade ball, so I’m going to wear my soul.

 
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Posted by on 31 October 2015 in Write31DaysOctober2015

 

Day 29: Time and Tide Wait for No Man

“Time and tide wait for no man and I ain’t got time to shake your hand…”

At least that’s what Dianna Krall tells me when I play her CD. I’m sure someone will try to inform me that “Hit That Jive Jack” was originally done by Nat King Cole, but I like her version best and since this is my blog… Never mind, I’m not even going to hold my breath that any of you have heard either version. The point is, my heart has always been in a hurry. I’ve always felt like life was running faster than I could. That’s quite a stressful concept to live with when you are a late bloomer and hyper-aware of time.

As a child, I was always the mature one, never got in trouble, was smart and polite and all of that. I hung out with my mom and her friends more than I ever hung out with anyone my own age. I remember at seven years old being part of their late night card games, and often holding my own if not outright winning playing spades or rummy. I learned their sarcasm and humor and took it to school where no one got it. I figured I was ahead of the game and so grown up already.

Fast-forward several years and I was still hanging out with adults, but I was trying to fit in with my peers. It just never seemed to go well. I didn’t think the way they did, I didn’t enjoy the same things they did, I would gravitate toward the chaperons, the teachers, the parents or older siblings, depending on the situation. All this time, I still had it in my head that I was somehow ahead of the game.

It didn’t occur to me until I was in my 20s just how much I was NOT my age. I didn’t party. I didn’t date. All that time thinking I was ahead of things turned into watching all of my peers getting married and having kids and careers while I wasn’t. I kept expecting it to just happen, any day now, but life took a detour and I lost a few years. I was a late bloomer. My psychologist during those lost years told me that 36 was the magical age when everyone catches up with each other. Well, I’m 37 and I feel more behind than ever!

But I know that even my lost years weren’t really lost. I’ve learned a lot from them. And I’m getting my life together as far as the career is concerned. Well, I’m trying to, anyway. Just today, I began building the office I’ve wanted for a while now. It isn’t finished and it isn’t perfect, but it is exactly what I need at this time and it’s functional! I’m blogging this from my new computer which is perched upon my makeshift desk. While I was loading up the bookshelves, I found a magazine I forgot I had tucked inside a folder. It is a Ladies’ Home Journal from January 2009 with Mariska Hargitay on the cover. Care to guess the caption?

“What you can learn from a late bloomer”

Of all days to find this! So, I took a few minutes to re-read the article. She was 33 when she landed a recurring roll on ER prior to hitting it HUGE with Law & Order: SVU, 39 when she got married 42 when she became a mother. She said, “I’m so grateful I was given these opportunities at a point in my life when I could really handle it all. I got my gig late, got married late, had my kid late – and none of it came a minute too soon.” Of course, she also admits in the article, “I used to think, am I such a late bloomer that I blew it?” As much as I admire her, and agree with her, I really didn’t want to see once more instance of someone telling me to be grateful for something not happening sooner.

I can look back on my life and see how much I wanted something, even in recent years, but I wasn’t really ready for it. I know that a lot has changed for me and in me; and, I feel that I’m really ready for it. But just about the time that my brain is in full blown “must-do-all-the-things-before-it’s-too-late” mode, I get reminders like the Mariska article, or the facebook post my pal Matthias made this morning from a prayer book:

“All that you have within you, all that your heart desires,
all that your Nature so specially fits for you —
that or the counterpart of it waits 
embedded in the great Whole, for you.
It will surely come for you.

Yet equally surely not one moment before its appointed time will it come.
All your crying and fever and reaching out of hands will make no difference.
Therefore do not begin that game at all.”

I am a firm believer in “it’s never too late” and yet I know that sometimes it is too late. Had Linda Ronstadt waited to pursue singing until she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and unable to sing, it would have been too late. I’m forever grateful that she followed her heart and made an impact on the music industry over several decades that can never be erased. But that was her calling. She had to work for it, but also, it came to her.

Mariska didn’t blow her chances at love because she waited so long, it was ready for her when she was ready for it. My lost years have not cost me my future, they helped shape me for it. The same goes for my backwards growing up of being both ahead and behind the curve. Time and tide wait for no man, but maybe we don’t have to chase them down. We may not have time to lose, but if it is meant to be, we won’t be able to lose it when the timing is right. So, somehow, it makes sense that I am both an early bloomer and a late bloomer and the dreams that I’m working towards will also come to me… the tide will turn, my ship will come in, and I’ll be ready.

 
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Posted by on 30 October 2015 in Write31DaysOctober2015

 

Day 28: The Clueless Little Caterpillar Club

I came across something this morning that seemed so obviously simple and yet so mind blowingly brilliant that I’ve been unable to let it go.

So, do caterpillars know that they’re gonna be butterflies?
Or do they just build the cocoon and be like “WTF am I doing?”

I’ve tried to express this before, but in case you missed it: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING WITH MY LIFE! I know the things I want to do, but I don’t know how to get there from this place that I’m at. I spend a lot of time feeling like I’m spinning my wheels and getting nowhere that makes any sense, but I know I’m making some kind of progress because I’m not where I used to be. Am I a self-aware caterpillar who knows she’s destined for something but is clueless about what exactly that is? Am I building my cocoon out of hopes and dreams and faith that whatever is on the other side is going to be good? What if I really do have delusions of grandeur that I’m meant to be a butterfly; and while I’m doing all of this work and believing in hopes and dreams, I’m just going to arrive at my deathbed in time to realize that I missed the joys of being a caterpillar? I don’t think that last one is it, because I truly enjoy something in each and every day of my life. Even the worst days can teach us so much and if I didn’t believe in life’s next chapter, I wouldn’t really care enough to pay attention to the lessons in this chapter.

You deserve your dreams… (Who else could they possibly belong to more than you?)

Not everybody wants to be a writer, actor, singer, etc. Not everybody has the same dreams. Some people truly enjoy teaching French to high school kids. I’d rather have a root canal every day for the rest of my life. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration. Let’s just say I have absolutely no interest in that. I wouldn’t mind LEARNING a little French, but teaching it? No thanks, I’m good. I might teach algebra; but though I love algebra, that isn’t a dream or a passion of mine. Our dreams and passions are ours for a reason. They are shaped by the places we’ve been and the things we’ve seen. They are also shaped by the places we haven’t been and the things we haven’t seen. No matter what shape they come in, they are that shape because they are ours.

I found myself asking the other day, “What does she have that I don’t?” Then I found myself thinking, “What an absolutely ridiculous thing to ask!” She has a lot of things that I don’t. Everybody in the world does. But guess what!?!?!? I have a lot of things she doesn’t have! Why don’t we ask that? I don’t want to be a writer like the “her” I was comparing myself to. I want to be a writer like me. So, by asking what she has that makes her, her; how does that help me find my way to being the me that I dream of being? It doesn’t. It only creates an image of a chasm between us. We have a lot of similarities too. We are both women. We both write. We both like chocolate and coffee. None of those things are what I want to build a career on. I was right to look for the differences, but I was looking at what I was lacking, and therefore, what I could blame my lack of success on. Perhaps my lack of success is that I only really figured out who I was and came to life about three years ago and am only just now getting my writing out there in the world? No, it’s gotta be because she has some charmed life that made success easier for her or something! But in reframing the question to, “What do I have that she doesn’t?” I created the opportunity to see something in me that makes me the writer I’m meant to be. It gives me the chance to see the shape of me and how that relates to the shape of my dreams in contrast to her and her dreams. I do not ask that in any way to put her down, only to find myself. We are so used to finding what is wrong with us that we forget to find what is right with us. And whatever we have, and whatever others have, those are the right things to have for each of us.

Maybe what I have that she doesn’t is this late blooming path through life? Maybe I’m going through things in the order and the timing that I am because there are people out there who are only really three years old at 37, too? Maybe my voice speaks to people who are still clueless little caterpillars; who don’t know what they are doing with their lives and typically feel like they are spinning their wheels; who still dare to hope and dream; or who, maybe, have forgotten how to hope and dream and they can see in me that it’s still possible, it’s never too late. Well, I still don’t know WTF we are doing, but let’s build our cocoons and hope for our dreams and see if, just maybe, we are butterflies.

 
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Posted by on 29 October 2015 in Write31DaysOctober2015

 

Day 27: Can I Just Stop Caring Today?

I have empathic tendencies. That isn’t new age nonsense. I can’t read someone’s mind. But I can get a sense of who someone is very quickly at times. I’m a quick judge of character because people are energy. Even if you have no physical energy, your spirit is energy. If someone’s energy resonates with my energy, it’s like the notes the resonate in a chord in music; the pieces create harmony or they don’t based on the different energies. Sometimes, I can just feel that someone has a good energy and want to get to know them better because we’d probably get along. Sometimes I can tell they aren’t so good and I want to avoid them. Sometimes people surprise me and I realize I was wrong about them, either direction, but that’s pretty rare.

I can also feel emotional energy. That isn’t very cut and dry, but I can typically tell if it’s negative or positive even if I can’t tell what kind of negative or positive. Sometimes I just tune it out and can come off as quite socially dense, but it is a survival mechanism because it can be really exhausting feeling what others are feeling. However, once I’m connected to someone, once I trust them (and often trust from me isn’t an earned or merited thing, it is just something I feel I can give or not) then I have a hard time distancing myself. If they are having a bad day, I carry a weight around, just a constant awareness that they are struggling. It can be exhausting, and sometimes I wish I could just stop caring.

A lot of people have sympathy and empathy for others. That is very common in humans. But in some people, it happens to such a degree that they can become physically ill from feeling so strongly what others are going through. They basically feel the burden of another as their own, or take on the emotional energy of their surroundings regardless of their own emotions at the time.

I was in full empath swing this morning. I had someone on my mind, someone I care about (despite never having met yet). And that someone mentioned being scared. Instantly there was a weight in the middle of my chest. It’s only just now easing up, about fourteen hours later. I’ve carried their concern, and my concern for them, the whole day. There hasn’t been much of anything I could do about it. But I felt it. And I prayed for them.

Another friend was in full apathy swing today. We had an interesting conversation. I know that I care about people and I don’t truly want to not care, but there are times, like today, when it has such an effect on me that it is hard to deal with. I was having a good day. I felt fine. But I felt others’ not-fine feelings, too. It was more than a bit conflicting.

My mother is very much like me. She has an incredible sense about animals. She is constantly sharing and promoting different animal groups and signing petitions to help improve their lives in any way that she can. Another friend has trouble with the commercials for the children’s hospitals and the wounded veterans programs. She cares so much that she’d give them everything she had, but her husband is oblivious to the same advertisements and would think she was insane if she tried to help. Plus, she would have a hard time knowing when to stop helping! It can get to be too much seeing the pain and hurt in the world when you feel it so deeply, as though it were happening to you, even if it is happening to someone or something else. Sometimes doing any little thing that is proactive in helping ease their plight, can help to ease the weight that we carry.

I was just having a conversation with a new friend who said, “It’s a lot harder for us to walk with someone than walk away. And we have gotten really bad at following in Christ’s footsteps in that regard to enter someone’s struggle and live it with them instead of condemning them from afar.” We were talking about something else, but it so perfectly summed up my conundrum today. My friend who is scared, is scared of walking alone through a difficult time and place. But she isn’t alone. See, because I feel all of these things and because I know what it’s like to walk alone, I’m the person who will be there if at all possible. I’m not sure it is possible for me to physically be there in this instance, but I will try and I can pray her through the scary part even from a distance. And there are others who may be able to help her. What most people find difficult, and what I have wondered all day if it were a curse, actually makes up a part of myself that I’m really proud of. I’ve been there with people in the dark and scary times. I’m willing to be there when most people aren’t. If I’m doing it for them, it doesn’t scare me that much. I can focus on their needs and I often forget my own. For me, it is almost always harder to walk away.

It is a fine line of balance that I’m having to relearn as I reenter this world of people after years of isolation. I can’t let everyone’s feelings weigh me down. But I’ll be damned if I will ever willingly let someone I care about walk alone. So, I changed my mind. I don’t want to stop caring. I may want to tone it down on occasion. But just like I can’t help dreaming big, I can’t help feeling so much, and if that leads me to walk beside someone during whatever trial they are facing, then it will have been worth it.

 
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Posted by on 28 October 2015 in Write31DaysOctober2015

 

Day 26: Color Outside the Lines

I just colored a picture for my mom. It seems to have become a thing that happens on occasion, especially if the library has any cute Halloween pictures up for grabs. Coloring a picture is therapeutic to me. It is, in part, an artistic expression, but with semi-mindlessness because someone else drew the lines. I like drawing my own lines in life, for the most part, but once in a while, it’s nice to follow a path laid out by someone else. They show you the parameters and you zone into filling in the spaces with whatever creative fancy strikes you, or just as boring as you please. It’s all fine, and I tend to try to stay inside the lines.

There are so many other things in life, everything from religion to laws of the land to acceptable work place behavior to even etiquette, where the lines are there because someone randomly put them there ages ago and no one questioned it. This is the way something is because it’s the way we were told it is. There may have been a reason, but probably no one remembers what it is anymore. I’m not talking about the big things like don’t murder someone, don’t burn your house down, don’t go to work naked (strippers are excluded), and don’t fling your spaghetti at the waiter. Some things just make sense. Some things don’t. Why is there a dinner fork and a salad fork, doesn’t that just create extra dishes? Who says you can’t wear dusty sandals to church, cause isn’t that what Jesus wore all the time? And apparently there has been an issue with people whistling under water… to the point that someone had to pass a law so they wouldn’t do it anymore! There are rules everywhere we look and they are so ingrained in our lives that we don’t often realize that there may not be a valid reason for us to follow some of them.

Who decided which foods were breakfast foods? Who decided you had to eat your dinner before you could have your dessert? Who gets to say how a person of a certain age should act and why do we feel the need to tell people to act their ages? Who says your socks have to match each other? Or anything else in your wardrobe? Why do we feel guilty or rebellious or attempt to justify breaking free from some of these customs? Isn’t it enough to say, I’m an adult and I can make up my own mind about what I want to do and when and how?

My best friend and I have been discussing lately how abnormal our relationship is. We are two incredibly not-normal people. So, why should our friendship make sense to others who are trying so hard to be normal? I don’t want a friendship that makes sense to everyone else. It is ours and we are happy. The same goes with my mom, my other best friend. I’ve noticed a lot of people claim that their mom is their best friend, but their relationships never look like ours. Ours is very special and very weird and very deep. I wonder who drew the lines that said friends are like this, best friends are like that, etc. These two women aren’t just people I value, need, trust, and they aren’t just people I enjoy being around more than I enjoy being around others. They are part of my soul, part of who I am. We often find that we can complete each others’ sentences, even if we just randomly jumped tracks in our trains of thought. I hope we never really make sense to everyone else. What a boring life that would be.

By the same token, I want a romantic relationship that colors outside the lines. I don’t want the violins and three dozen roses and proposal with a big diamond ring. I don’t want the fancy restaurant dates or the weekly dinner and a movie. I’d rather bake cookies in our pajamas and have a Harry Potter marathon while debating the merits of Lyle Lovett’s songwriting abilities, if that is what makes us happy. I want whatever happens in that relationship to be representative of the two unusual people who love each other more because of their quirks, not in spite of them. I’m sure there will be some normal things, too; but I will always most value the moments that aren’t just like everyone else’s. We will always aspire to be us, whatever that is or looks like, whatever is found within the lines that we draw for our shared world. And I hope that as we change and grow and evolve through our lives, or even if we ever just get a little bored, we won’t be afraid to get creative and color outside of our own lines… as long as we’re coloring together.

So, go. Go have ice cream for dinner. Go attempt to whistle under water. (*disclaimer: author assumes no responsibility for any injury, humiliation, or death that results from such ventures) Go mismatch your socks. Whatever it is that makes your life yours, find ways to do it that make you happy. There are enough rules that we all have to follow. When we can, we shouldn’t be afraid to color outside the lines.

 
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Posted by on 27 October 2015 in Write31DaysOctober2015

 

Day 25: Such a Big Little World

I got to spend the day with my five nieces and nephews. We carved pumpkins and ate corn dogs and French fries; it was a pretty good day. We don’t get to see my oldest niece and nephew as often as we’d like, so it seems like those days with them get pretty full and chaotic, trying to cram months worth of visits into about eight hours.

They don’t live that far away, only about ten miles from my brother’s house, but time and custody and various things in life keep them from seeing their father and the rest of our side of the family nearly as often as any of us would like. They are happy kids and well cared for by all involved, but it’s amazing how vast a distance that ten miles is when people do not cooperate.

My best friend lives about a thousand miles away and yet, because we have made it that way, we are as close as ever despite the miles. I would love to see her face, in person. But we are in nearly constant contact, so the miles are a mere technicality.

As I consider the various paths my life could take in the future, I contemplate moving. I’ve never lived more than an hour’s drive from my mother and never more than a two hours drive from the rest of the family. It would be easy, mentally and emotionally, to move to a larger town in this area, but could I pack up and move to Los Angeles or England or wherever opportunity leads? I think that I could, but it would mean sacrificing the family time that I’ve always known. When I had the chance to return for a visit, would it be the same chaotic feeling of cramming months worth of visits into a short time?

Before you think that I’m even considering not following my dreams, here’s my philosophy: I dream big: for personal goals, career goals, and future love. I have come so alive in the past couple of years, more alive than I’ve ever been before, and I’m not going to give up on that. Following the path of my life, wherever it may take me, will only bring me more to life. I would rather have shorter times in physical proximity with those I love while in that state of being fully alive and completely at home in my own existence, than to stay close but return to the living death that I knew before. It will mean sacrifices in many different areas, some I’m sure that I’ve yet to even think of. But it would also mean so many more gains, so many more authentic moments when we are together, and so much more joy in my personal fulfillment and whatever contributions I can make to the world.

We live in a world of video calls and instant messaging, so miles and time zones are not the enemy that they were even several years ago. We do not have to wait days, weeks, or months for a letter to arrive. We don’t have to budget a long distance calling plan. We don’t have to settle for disconnecting. Physical separation no longer means a deteriorating relationship. Hugs and days out together on a weekly basis cannot be replicated with technology, but they can also be missing when someone is just ten miles down the road.

I don’t know where things will lead me. They may never progress beyond my current situation. But I know this, the world is however big or little you make it. As Kathy Mattea sings often from my mp3 player, “Love travels the miles upon the wings of angels. Love finds you, I swear it’s true, I can love you from here…”

 
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Posted by on 26 October 2015 in Write31DaysOctober2015

 
 
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