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Show Me Your Scar, I’ll Show You Mine

I have scars.

I got one recently after I cooked lunch for some friends. In the rush to have everything on the table at the same time, I burned my hand as I took bread out of the oven. It didn’t hurt until the next day. A puffy little blister, sore to the touch; I knew it would leave a mark.

There’s more. If you look closely, you can still see the faded triangle between my left calf and shin from the fifth grade when I tried to officiate a fight between two German Shepherds. On my other shin, there’s a scar from when I slid down a concrete bench in the 11th grade. I can still see where …

BEAUTIFUL THURSDAY!

 

 

Today I am starting something new. Maybe it will trend. Oh, yeah that’s it; you’ve got to use the right language if you want anything to catch on now.

Whatever. (No, make that Whatevs. That’s how Sophie would say it.)

I recently stalked looked at one of my friend’s albums on FB. I was so surprised by one pic that I immediately private messaged her with, “There are few women in the world that can show up * , but you did by 1,000000000,0000000 degrees. I just needed to tell you once again how absolutely beautiful you are!!”

[* She was standing next to a well-known person but all names have been removed to protect

This Bud’s For You!

On the way to the bus stop this morning, a thought occurred to me. It’s early March.

The blossoms are not supposed to be out. It’s not right.

Mother Nature hasn’t given the sprouts on the Bradford Pears permission to make their entrance yet.

But they’ve decided differently. Just look around.

I took these pictures for those who have found the courage to bloom, even though your season says,

“Not yet.”

Who cares if you’re older than you’ve ever been. Who cares that you’ve never been here before.

It doesn’t matter. Something is calling you out of your old season. You’re not late, not even early.

You’re right on time.

This bud’s for you!

What Happens If There’s No Fireworks? My Retreat Wrap-Up.

The retreat weekend started with a bang. Maybe a howl is a better adjective. We were supposed to drive up on Friday night but due to the tornadoes and storms, we waited until Saturday morning. It was an agonizing verdict that taught me a lot about decision-making and just how difficult it is to get five women to agree on anything.

We decided to take one car, another huge decision in itself, and to meet at Christy’s where we would all leave together. There would be no early escape for me, no matter how hard I tried. I prepared to leave my house at 6 a.m., quietly and without drama, until I couldn’t find my keys. I had to wake …

Women, Chocolate, and Kleenex. Why Retreats Scare Me.

It’s Monday. I’m already worrying about Friday.

A couple months ago I thought it would be a great thing if a couple friends and I signed up for the women’s retreat. We’re all fairly new to our church—wouldn’t this be a good way to get plugged-in and meet a lot more people? I encouraged. I prodded. And now, as much as I’d like to, I can’t back out of my own idea.

A few of us are long time friends, a few are new-ish. I’ve never spent time alone in a hotel room with any of them that’s for sure (or seen them in their p.j.’s, for that matter), and I’m nervous.

How do you approach, you know, the stuff?…

An Unexpected Valentine

I’ve been holding off posting this blog because it relates to a very personal area of my life. I almost clicked erase a hundred times but couldn’t bring myself to completely trash my thoughts. Then I realized Valentine’s Day would be the perfect time to show my love for an important person in my life.

Two Saturdays ago a letter showed up out of the blue. A bona fide (although computer typed) letter with a cute heart drawn in blue ink beside the name. The only people that send me notes (other than birthday or Christmas cards) are Christy and Uncle Tommy. (Note to friends: don’t spoil the surprise and tell me you appreciate their letters too because I’d like …

The Bagman Cometh. Or See-eth.

A quick trip to the grocery comes with a dilemma. Makeup? No makeup? Hat? No hat? I care about what I wear, but not always. Sometimes I take the real me, unphotoshopped, as I sneak around the aisles. If I spot someone I know, I pretend to be glued to the buy-one-get-one free chicken broth just to go unnoticed.

Today I just wanted to get in and out of the store, short and sweet. I didn’t feel like small talk but you can’t escape it there. The people in green are just so stinkin’ friendly.

The very second I walked to where the baskets were waiting, I was greeted by the kindest man ever. Jacob. Older than my father but …

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