We had two Christmas parties this weekend. Saturday night was so much fun and we stayed up so late, though, that it was hard to work up enthusiasm for our annual church dinner/dance Sunday night. None of our closest friends planned to attend and I couldn't help but wish we had bought tickets to the Daughtry concert instead. But we had tickets to the dinner (prime rib!) so we dressed ourselves up and went. We could always skip out right after dinner if we wanted to...
As it turned out, we were among the last to leave. The clean-up crew was blowing out candles and gathering up tablecloths while we took a final two-step around the dancefloor. The food was delicious, we made new friends with the couples at our table... faces we had exchanged smiles with at church, but never really gotten to know...and we danced! Tom made it all the way through the Cotton-Eyed Joe AND the Schottiche this time, and I represented my generation in several line dances.
Daughtry who?
Isn't it funny how your perspective about something can change so completely?
I've been pouring out my words and thoughts here on Long Hollow for almost a year and a half. That's so hard for me to believe! I wasn't sure what to expect when I started. It was a little scary - throwing them out here for anyone to read...very similar to how it felt reading my weekly compositions aloud so many years ago in my first creative writing class.
From the very beginning I was undecided about the "ads" issue on blogs - I avoided giving in to them, afraid they would be intrusive or look tacky...because, let's face it, sometimes they are and they do. But I also had to face the fact that if there was a way to make some money from my blog...even a few pennies...I needed to try. So I was very excited when the email came last week letting me know my blog was accepted into the Blogher network. I have no illusions of quitting my job anytime soon because of my blog income, but if I can make anything at all on this legal addiction of mine, I'll feel really good about it.
Perspective.
A friend sent me an e-mail yesterday about perspective. It was one of those that has made its rounds numerous times, kinda corny and wrapped up a little too neatly, about a wealthy father who takes his son out to the country "with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live". Upon their return home, the father asks his son what he has learned. The boy replies...
"I saw that we have one dog and they have four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end. We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night. Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon. We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight. We have servants who serve us, but they serve others. We buy our food, but they grow theirs. We have walls around our property to protect us; they have friends to protect them....Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are."
Perspective.
I have friends who, in traditional ways, are wealthier than we are. Yesterday I found out they were having to say goodbye to their old puppy, but where we had the opportunity to be with Charly, to hug him and hold him so that the last thing he saw on this earth were our tear-streaked faces and the last thing he heard was "we love you", they had to say a quick good-bye and rush off to the hospital for a family emergency - a kind that they are all too familiar with. In that moment, I felt very rich, very blessed, very grateful.
Perspective.
