Can I just say how much I love Christmas and all that goes with it?! I LOVE having a white-lighted Christmas tree in my house. Makes me want to own a fake one and just keep it up all year long. Life is more soothing with a tree in the house, especially a tree with lights. And red bows. And fires are soothing too. I am soothed....
2) ... which is a good thing, because today sucked. I'm not normally willing to throw an entire day into the "sucky" category. And actually, now that I think about it, I'm not willing to throw this whole day into the sucky category. In fact, what I want, no, need to write about is how much good can come out of the bad. But in order to write about that, first, I have to tell you about the sucky. A supervisor at work told me some things today that really stung me. Now, I'm all for constructive criticism, and I try really hard to be a good receiver of criticism ... believing the words in the book of Proverbs that talk about a wise man (or woman, in my case) being willing to take a rebuke. But the way in which the supervisor said the things - and even the things themselves - felt wrong and ... unnecessary. And kind of unkind.
After the conversation, I went back to my desk and stared at my computer screen and took in some deep breaths and calmed myself down. But inside I was all wounded and trying not to cry. And so I reached out to a few of my closest friends, wrote to them, told them what happened, and asked for their prayers. And here's where I get to tell you about the good. Love came pouring back to me. Affirmations about who I am created to be. Encouragement. Honest feedback (Truth spoken in love is sooo much better than just truth, btw). Words of so much love from people who *see* me and have known me at my worst. And it's a funny thing. As I read my friends' encouragements, my spirit slowly got lighter. And I began to almost feel thankful that this had happened. I treasure the words I got today. I'll probably print up the emails and keep them and pull them out when I need reminding.
Before I go, I need to digress a moment ... to go back to a very distant memory I have that occurred when I was about 6 or 7. Around that age, my city got a big snow storm. The thing with snow is that it eventually melts, and then - as winter is so inclined to do - if it freezes again, you end up with a nice, thick layer of ice. I'm kidding. Ice is not nice. And I did not just mean to rhyme. Geez... it's getting late, and I'm tired. Sorry for the rambling. Anyway, back to the ice. So, when one ends up with a thick layer of ice, one has to use an ice pick to break it up. So, on this occasion, my mother was ice-picking, and I was outside hanging out with her. I don't remember asking my mother if I could do a little of the ice picking, but I'm sure I must have begged her, because - against her better judgment - my mother agreed to let me do a few whacks of the ice and then give it back to her. Let this be a comfort to any mommy who might be reading this. My mother - a fantastic mother, a larger than life mother, a write-love-notes-on-napkins-in-my-school-lunches mother - gave me the ice pick. And I proceeded to ice pick my big toe. Not on purpose of course. Just too young to be ice picking (Sorry Mom; totally not trying to rat you out on this one. ;).
But here's the funny thing: I don't remember the pain. What I remember is that she immediately scooped me up and carried me inside and held me in her lap and rocked with me in her rocking chair until all crying had ceased. I remember laying there, against her chest and having her wipe my tears. And I remember it feeling very warm and quiet. And I remember feeling loved. That's what I remember.
Maybe, sometimes, the blows of life are worth it ... just so we can experience the special kinds of tenderness and love that are especially drawn out by hard knocks. Maybe. But, either way, good comes from bad. And love always seems to have the final word.
