One of my favorite songs of the season is Mary did you know. I wonder what were some of the things Mary thought when Jesus was suckling and looking at her with a sweet smile.
Not every mother knows she will carry a baby that will change the world as an adult. Klara Hitler didn’t know. I’m sure she never dreamed of the tragedies that would occur at the hands of her baby boy. When she first felt him move and when she prayed he would not die in childhood as some of his siblings did, I’m sure she didn’t know.
When we as parents hold our breaths and wait for the first cry. When we smile broadly at the first steps. When we celebrate the milestones of childhood. When we shower our offspring with words of encouragement and rebuke, kisses and hugs, I’m sure we don’t know. We hope they will become productive citizens of society. We pray they will live a life that is reflective of our love. But, we don’t know.
My heart is heavy for the mother’s and father’s whose children don’t live a life that reflects the love they were given. I’m sure they didn’t know their children would grow up to kill a room full of children or a theater full of people or an airplane full of passengers. I’m sure they didn’t know.
At the same time that I grieve, I rejoice. I rejoice that Ruth Patton encouraged her son and that Barbara Bush supported her children and that Alberta King put a dream in her son’s heart early on. But I’m sure they didn’t know when they carried those babies they would grow into world changers.
Mary may have known some of the story but she didn’t know the entire story. As she watched her son grow into a man, I’m sure she didn’t know how his life would end and that his story and her story would be told and sung throughout the world.
Mary did you know?
Tag Archives: life lessons
The Rudolph Syndrome
I was listening to the radio this morning when Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer started playing. I hummed along for a few moments until it came to the part about Santa calling on Rudolph because of his nose and asked him to lead the sleigh. All of sudden the other reindeer weren’t calling him names anymore and they weren’t excluding him from the reindeer games. Now they loved him shouted and even shouted with glee that his name would go down in history.
Rewind to several years ago. I was with a room full of moms and each of them was saying how they had always wanted to get married and have babies. They reminisced about being young girls and dreaming this dream. They didn’t know it at the time but I felt out-of-place. I always wanted to be a supreme court justice and have a nanny. As I sat there, I could envision a grove full of trees. None of the trees were exactly alike. I realized I was created to be different, as were you.
Fast forward to this past spring. I was spending time alone to reflect on my life. I realized that my closest set of friends were business majors and could not understand my me fully. I was a psychology major. I made decisions that were impractical or seemed silly but they made sense to me and usually worked out in the end. Even if they didn’t work out, I was okay with that.
Getting back to Rudolph, my point is he was not liked when he was seen as different. He was misunderstood and according to the movie, it was tough enough that he felt the need to run away to join the other misfits. In the end it worked out for him. Santa saw his value and gave him a position of honor. I say to my fellow Rudolphs it’s okay to be you. There is value in being uniquely you. It may not be easy and you may not get to lead the sleigh but you are valuable no matter where you are in the line up. The others can just go kick rocks. (I think that is the funniest saying)
I wonder, are you a person who looks at others’ uniqueness as a personal challenge to try to get them to conform or do you embrace those people who are different hoping to learn something new and experience something different? There is room in this world for all kinds. Where is the fun in everybody being the same?
Stuff
I have lots of questions running through my mind. The most pressing question today and yesterday and the day before that is why do we compare our lives to others? I have friends with big houses, small houses, apartments, condos, townhouses, expensive cars, cheap cars, and no cars. I know people who are highly successful (success to me is defined by the person attempting to achieve it not the people looking at the attempts) and others that are making it day-to-day.
Why do we to look at each other’s lives and measure the quality of life on the stuff that has been acquired? Who are we to say you need all the stuff to be happy? I know people with a lot of stuff; some are happy and some are not. I know people without any stuff, some are happy and some are not. Does stuff bring happiness, contentment or satisfaction? Or does the acquisition of stuff come with a drive to acquire more stuff? If another person does not have that same drive or the same need why isn’t that okay?
Now don’t get me wrong, I have stuff and I like stuff. I am one of the few people, who I now of, that is happy with my current stuff. I don’t dream of more for the sake of more. My goal at the end of the day is not more stuff. My goal is contentment in the here and now. My here and my now are different from yours. I will not measure your stuff or lack there of and please don’t measure mine. Me and my stuff are just fine.
Guest Blogger’s Response to The Misunderstood and Underestimated
One of my friends decided to write a response to my post The Misunderstood and Underestimated. I encourage you to respond, discuss or contemplate as well. I will post your responses to my blog or you can be a guest blogger with your own topic as long as you practice responsiblity and respect. This evening, our guest blogger is a new friend but has quickly become a dear friend.
I present to you Ms. Abiquail. (insert canned applause)
Objects are defined by their usefulness. Shovels are used to scoop, ovens to bake and flashlights to illuminate. We structure every item in our lives by what it is used to do. But what happens when an object is warped for a new purpose? The author of this blog recently posed an interesting question about one such repurposed implement, the wire hanger. She sought to understand the “stigma surrounding wire hangers.”
I think the stigma comes from what people use wire hangers to do.
Wire hangers are used to beat, to torture, to steal and to break. They are twisted from their original form and utilized to cause pain. People rarely conjure positive associations with them; after the author revealed the subject matter of her latest blog my first thought was of the hanger scene in Mommie Dearest (1981)! Although fashioned for an innocent purpose, wire hangers are manipulated into something they were never intended to be.
We are also defined by our purpose. Some instruct, some counsel, some create, some conquer and some make others laugh. Each of us has been designed with gifts we are to use to affect those whose lives we touch. But what happens when we allow those gifts to be manipulated by our selfish desires and the desires of others? Much like wire hangers, what we are created to be can turn into an implement for pain and destruction. And if we do not consciously use our talents to improve the lives of others, we will reap a similarly unfavorable stigma. Are you walking in your purpose, or are you allowing your gifts to be warped and used as something for which they were not intended? Are you a wire hanger?
Bravo Abiquail, bravo. Let’s talk later about this scary image you have of wire hangers. Much love and admiration,
Alicia
The Dresser
One upon a time, long, long ago in a far away and oh so distant land there lived a handsome young couple. They were so much in love that they decided to get married. After getting married, they combined their two households. They kept his sofa, her bed, her dining room table and shortly after they were married, they inherited a dresser from his grandmother.
Now this dresser was nothing special. In fact, it was an eye sore. Mrs. Handsome disliked this piece of furniture so much she put it in a closet. Mr. and Mrs. Handsome had many discussion about this dresser that was nothing special but more of an eyesore. You see, Mr. Handsome cherished and loved the dresser because his grandfather handmade this dresser long, long, long, long ago in an even more far away and distant land. Mr. Handsome refused to even discuss disposing of the dresser. You see, he adored this lopsided dresser that was nothing special but a real eye sore. The drawers would not close all the way. The legs were not even and if you rubbed your hand across it, you were sure to get a splinter. Mrs. Handsome was determined to get rid of the dresser and Mr. Handsome was determined to keep this dresser that was nothing special and a bit of an eye sore.
One day, Mr. Handsome’s mother and father decided to visited their son’s humble abode. Mr. Handsome was embarrassed to have the dresser in the closet. Mr. Handsome insisted on displaying it in one of the bedrooms. When his parents arrived, Mr. Handsome proudly showed them the dresser, that was nothing special but more of an eye sore. Mr. Handsome asked his mother if she remembered the year her father made the dresser. She said, my mother found that on somebody’s curb when they were first married. My father’s handiwork was much better than that.
The very next day, the dresser that was nothing special and still an eye sore found itself no longer living in the bedroom or closet but next to the dumpster.
And they lived happily ever after.
My question to you is what or who are you holding on to that is nothing special but more of an eye sore? It’s okay to walk away or put it next to the dumpster.
All That Chatter 