Have you ever started on a path that had only one way out? You had to make a choice about going forward or going back? When there was no other way out but through? How did you decide that it was worth the effort to move forward? What did it take to keep going when the path got difficult?
Here’s what I learned on a walking path in Ireland.
Last week I took three trips combined into one. Connecticut to Florida to Georgia to Colorado and back to Connecticut. A combination of business and vacation. Each leg was only a few days, so I didn’t really have time to get used to the place I was in before it was time to move again.
And I ended up in different time zones.
There is a large garden bed in my yard that I’ve neglected for 2 years. I haven’t had the time to spend on gardening that I used to. And this bed is BIG. Filled with shrubs and flowers.
And weeds.
Why did I keep using my disgustingly ratty old cleaning cloth, when I had a perfectly good one in the linen closet?
I use a small chamois cloth to clean my kitchen counter. It does a great job of absorbing the liquids that collect as I cook and clean. Not long ago I looked at that cloth, noticed the holes and the stains, and said, “Gross!” Right then and there I fished a brand new one out of the linen closet.
That cloth had been disgusting for a while. I had noticed it before, but never did anything about it. Why did I choose that day to replace it? What kept me from doing it before? What can we all learn from my ratty cleaning cloth?
On July 4. 1776, fifty-six men from thirteen colonies signed a document proclaiming independence from “absolute Tyranny over these states”. In this Declaration of Independence, these 56 representatives declared us to be the “united States of America”. With the stroke of a pen, we declared ourselves independent and formed a new country.
Today is the day to declare another Independence Day.
Back in March, I asked this question: “If you’ve decided to do something that ended up painful, and you could go back in time and make that decision again, would you do it again?” I asked you to share your stories and what you have learned about loss, pain, resilience, and triumph.
Here’s what I learned from you.
On June 3rd, Sheryl Sandberg posted an update on her Facebook page about grieving the sudden loss of her husband, Dave Goldberg. She had just completed sheloshim for her husband, which is a 30-day time of religious mourning for your loved one. This post is filled with raw emotion, and also some perspective, as Sheryl reflects on those who have taken this 30-day journey with her. Loved ones and strangers sharing their stories and comfort. In her post, Sheryl says this:
I am sharing what I have learned in the hope that it helps someone else. In the hope that there can be some meaning from this tragedy.
There is profound wisdom in Sheryl’s post. Wisdom that comes from one of the most difficult experiences one can ever go through. Wisdom we can use when we or someone we love experiences a significant loss.
Spring is out in earnest. The early blooms have faded, and the New England countryside is a riot of color. Flowering crabapples in white, pink, and red. Puffy cherry blossoms, a dogwood fairyland on one of my favorite roads, and bright magenta flox.
And poison ivy.
This week we celebrated Memorial Day. And what a festive day it is! Marking the first day of summer, filled with bright colors, patriotic parades, and cookouts.
We had an unusually fierce winter in New England this year. Record cold. Record snow. Howling winds. It was so bitterly cold and nasty that it wore us down. Ate into our souls. It felt like the Land of Narnia when the wicked witch ruled the land.
As Mr. Tumnus said to Lucy, “It's always winter and never Christmas.”
