Are You Living Your Purpose?

Photo Credit: antibarbie

Three deaths in the past month has made for a rough start to the year. Two were expected; both family members were older and had health problems, and in some ways it was a blessing. But we still miss them and weren’t ready to see them leave this earth.

The third death was totally unexpected. A neighbor  and friend died of a sudden heart attack. Because she was close to my age, her death affected me the most.

When things like this happen, it makes you re-evaluate your life. If it had been me rather than her, what would I regret leaving undone?

I read recently that most people in nursing homes say they wish they’d taken more risks. It would be sad to get to the end of life and realize that while you were busy with mundane tasks, the important things of life passed you by.

What words or acts have you avoided saying or doing that you might someday regret? What dreams have you been putting off?

What were you put here on earth to do? Make that your first priority.

There I Go Again, Being Rude…

As we’re hustling and bustling to get the last of the holiday shopping done, it’s so easy to get annoyed with slowpokes who block our speed-walking through  a store on our lunch hours or with rude people who push ahead of us in line. But recently I heard a suggestion that totally revolutionized how I feel when that happens.

Whatever label you’ve just given that person who’s upsetting you–irritating, pushy, nasty, inconsiderate–put it into this sentence: There I go again, being…

There I go again, being pushy.

There I go again, being rude.

Wait a minute, you might say. I wasn’t the one who was doing that. Ah, but if you believe, like I do, that we’re all interconnected and that what you see is a reflection of what’s in your heart, then it’s easy to see that you made the choice to see rudeness or unkindness. And I find when I say that, it reminds me that I’ve done the same thing at times.

Perhaps that’s what’s meant by: There, but for the grace of God, go I…

Although some people use that to make themselves feel superior, if you think about it for a moment, you’ll realize you’re saying that any differences between you and the other person are because of grace. You are the same, but someone is looking at your actions through forgiving eyes. Now it’s your turn to do the same.

But the wonderful thing about this sentence is that you can use it when you see acts of kindness, generosity, and love.

There I go again, being generous and thoughtful.

There I go again, being helpful and considerate.

So while you’re shopping, which “you” will you see. I hope you have the special joy and privilege of seeing “you” through the eyes of a child, with all the magic and wonder that entails.

Why I Don’t Like Dogs–& It’s Not Why You Might Think

OK, I’m ducking here as all the dog lovers of the world throw rotten fruit and veggies at me. But bear with me. I began my life as a dog-lover. There are pictures of me as an infant cuddled up with our cocker spaniel, Ginger. When I was in grade school, I was a dog magnet. Every stray in the world followed me home. It might have helped that I usually held out a bit of bologna from the sandwiches I hated at lunchtime. But invariably day after day, I’d have dogs literally eating out of my hand.

I petted mangy, flea-infested beasts with the same affection I showed my baby brother (Yes, I adored him. Can’t say the same for my sister, however, although we did become friends after we grew up.) I sneaked food out to them if I could manage to keep them hidden. But my mother was the dog police. You’d think having had a dog, she’d be sympathetic to my obsession. But we’d given our dog away when we moved out of the country. By the time we returned to the U.S., she’d turned anti-dog. So I knew better than to bring them into the house. I hid them behind the shed which had a shaded overhang.

Then I made surreptitious trips to the refrigerator, and all the loose dogs in the neighborhood feasted on pot roast and chicken. Some even broke free of their chains to visit me. I’d fed a stray and get attached. I’d lay beside them with my arms around them as they slept. I groomed them with hairbrushes I sneaked from the house. I borrowed china bowls from the holiday dishes (figuring they’d be missed least) for water. I took good care of the dogs. And they’d repay me by licking my face, greeting me when I returned home from school, howling at night when I went in to bed. Some even followed me to school and lay panting in the schoolyard until I emerged at the end of the day.

But here’s the sad part. They always broke my heart. After a few days (or sometimes weeks if I was lucky), the dog disappeared. I’d come home from school, and my best friend would have taken off for parts unknown. I sobbed into my pillow at night and moped around the house. I thought they didn’t love me any more. I had no idea what I’d done wrong. Why I couldn’t manage to keep a pet. It was years before I discovered the truth.

Every dog I’d brought home ended up at the pound. Then the same neighbor girl who gave me that information also explained that the pound killed the dogs and chopped them up for hamburger meat.* I was devastated. I thought I’d been helping strays. Instead I’d been turning them into meat. I refused to eat hamburgers after that. And it was months before I spoke to my mother after I discovered she was the one who’d dragged of all my pets to the pound.

So now I can’t be around a dog without feeling sad. I don’t want to pet one or let it worm its furry way into my heart. After all, you never know when a dogcatcher might be just around the corner.

* It was many years before I discovered this neighbor girl had a penchant for exaggeration.

The Forgiveness Dilemma

Talk about conflicting messages. After writing two posts about the benefits of not forgiving people, my Google alerts again misdirected me (or was that a nudge from a higher source?) to a self-help site where the presenter was detailing all the benefits of forgiveness. The speaker used the familiar description of holding a grudge as feeding yourself poison, hoping someone else would die.

So I guess my options seem to be–poison myself or poison them? Hmmm…