By Lisa Huddleston
Okay. I was getting on here to recant everything I wrote yesterday. Who am I to splatter my feelings all over anyone’s computer screen? Why should anyone want to hear my thoughts? I was feeling sorry for myself and angry and a little hurt. Even at 52, I find it so hard to take criticism. (Can I get an amen?) And after going back to read some of my older posts I realized that what I have to say really hasn’t changed as much as the format has. Actually, I’ve been frighteningly consistent. Life is tough. I can laugh and cry at the same time. And God is always good.
Soooooo … it’s a beautiful day. I need to accept that I am not everyone’s cup of tea, but that’s okay. I find myself thankful for the simple things. My wonderful family. My life-long pals. My dog who finally got a good bath yesterday and no longer smells like turkey poop. The petunias my mother is happily planting around the patio as I write. The walk I plan to take with a good friend this afternoon. And so on. It’s a good life.
Probably, if I spent more time writing about those things, more people would be content to keep reading. I know. I’m a melancholy soul. But I do love a sad movie or a wry book or a deep poem. I just do. And there are hard things in this beautiful world. I can’t help feeling them, empathizing with both good and bad people, and crying over roadkill.
Inhale. Exhale. And today is a beautiful day!
(Last thought on this. Promise.)