You Just Never Know--
The line was short. Only the two of us. She was finishing her business, and I was next. As she stepped to the side so I could move forward, she stopped. Looking me straight in the eye, she said she hated bras.
Nothing much surprises me anymore, but this did catch me off guard. Before I could reply, she continued with her observations about bras. Her bras straps slide off her shoulders, she said. She often finds herself shoving her hand inside her clothing in an effort to pull the straps back onto her shoulders. And when that is accomplished, the back of the bra has ridden up her back. So she has to reach around and tug and pull to get it into place. By this time I was almost doubled over laughing.
She was a small woman. Probably in her 70's. She wore jeans, a light blue sweater and white shirt. Her gray hair was cut in a stylish short bob. As she spoke, her eyes sparkled. We were having a great moment. Women who had experienced the same frustrations. We were on the same page.
I asked her if she had been fitted for the right bra. Yes, she had. She said it made no difference whether she wore an expensive bra or a cheap one. The result was always the same. Nothing fit.
Before we parted company, she said she was seriously thinking about taking that garment off and laying it on a counter right there in the store. Then she added that it was time she joined the feminist movement. We were both laughing as she walked away.
I love those unexpected moments. When we are open to life, others sense that. Maybe it is the look in our eyes, or the way we move. Maybe it is an openness others sense in us. Whatever it is, I hope I always have it. It would have been such a shame to have missed that moment. She walked into my space for a moment and left such a great memory.
As I walked through the store, I fully expected to see a bra laying on a counter, and a woman in a soft blue sweater happily walking toward the front door.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Taking the "Be Happy" Challenge
Taking the "Be Happy" Challenge--
A new venture on Facebook is to be happy for 100 days. What a lovely idea. Mark today as day 1 on your calendar and force yourself to act as if you are happy for 100 days in a row. Do I sound a little skeptical?
I thought I would give it a try today. I decided that no matter what came my way, I would handle it with a happy spirit. I would smile and even laugh. My eyes would twinkle, and my walk would be light. Yes, this day would begin that 100 day happy venture.
It's interesting how once your mind is set to accomplish something, life turns against you. For instance, the computer runs so slowly that you grumble about networks and the money you spend to have easy access to the internet. Hum...things aren't looking too good for the start of those 100 days.
Later in the morning you realize that a bill that needed to be paid has been buried under the stack of papers on the desk. Some uncaring person is threatening to add a late fee. That's what the person on the other end of the phone call tells you. There is no way you can explain that you intended to pay that bill, but it got lost. Has a bit of a phony sound, doesn't it? So you speak in your sweetest and most respectful voice to that phantom person who could care less. If you are lucky, they will reverse the late fee charge. A bit of happy just floated out the room.
I love it when the recorded voice announces that the call may be or will be recorded. Once I told the person on the other end that I was recording the call, too. There was a bit of panic, and then I was told that I couldn't do that. So, I said we didn't have anything to discuss. It seems to me that we should think about what we allow in our lives. But I digress.
Back to the beginning of my personal 100 happy days. Things were going well until I stepped outside. Oh my gosh. The wind nearly knocked me over. Once I was safely in my car and driving down the road, I wrestled with it to stay out of the ditch. Well, maybe that is a slight exaggeration, but it isn't much of one. I felt as if I were playing dodge ball with giant trucks. That is when the 100 days bit the dust.
Before I left the house, I combed my hair. Once outside, I had to ask why I even bothered. Every hair on my head flew in opposite directions. Normally, that would have been no big deal. But, today I needed to stop in a few stores. At one of the stores I purchased a bouquet of flowers. They were nearly stripped down to the stems by the wind. So much for happy. Let's talk about survival.
Well, I think the concept is wonderful. Really, I do. Being happy for 100 days in a row. Wow! I know there are people who will work hard to achieve this worthy goal. I am not one of them. My life is a series of ups and downs, ins and outs, happy, sad, challenged, ticked off, delighted. It moves and circles. As it moves and circles, moods and feelings move with it. There is no way I know how I will feel tomorrow. Or the next day. Certainly I can be more aware of others and realize that my attitude affects those around me. But, I think I will take the next 100 days as they come. Some will bring saddness. Others joy. Some will bring challenges. What I can do is celebrate the fact that I am given another 100 days. That appeals to me.
I think I will try for 60 seconds of happy. Then increase it to five minutes. Follow that with thirty minutes. Push for the hour. But, if an unhappy thought makes its way into my mind, I will not feel defeated. I will simply start the process all over--going in small increments. I think I can handle that.
Take good care.
A new venture on Facebook is to be happy for 100 days. What a lovely idea. Mark today as day 1 on your calendar and force yourself to act as if you are happy for 100 days in a row. Do I sound a little skeptical?
I thought I would give it a try today. I decided that no matter what came my way, I would handle it with a happy spirit. I would smile and even laugh. My eyes would twinkle, and my walk would be light. Yes, this day would begin that 100 day happy venture.
It's interesting how once your mind is set to accomplish something, life turns against you. For instance, the computer runs so slowly that you grumble about networks and the money you spend to have easy access to the internet. Hum...things aren't looking too good for the start of those 100 days.
Later in the morning you realize that a bill that needed to be paid has been buried under the stack of papers on the desk. Some uncaring person is threatening to add a late fee. That's what the person on the other end of the phone call tells you. There is no way you can explain that you intended to pay that bill, but it got lost. Has a bit of a phony sound, doesn't it? So you speak in your sweetest and most respectful voice to that phantom person who could care less. If you are lucky, they will reverse the late fee charge. A bit of happy just floated out the room.
I love it when the recorded voice announces that the call may be or will be recorded. Once I told the person on the other end that I was recording the call, too. There was a bit of panic, and then I was told that I couldn't do that. So, I said we didn't have anything to discuss. It seems to me that we should think about what we allow in our lives. But I digress.
Back to the beginning of my personal 100 happy days. Things were going well until I stepped outside. Oh my gosh. The wind nearly knocked me over. Once I was safely in my car and driving down the road, I wrestled with it to stay out of the ditch. Well, maybe that is a slight exaggeration, but it isn't much of one. I felt as if I were playing dodge ball with giant trucks. That is when the 100 days bit the dust.
Before I left the house, I combed my hair. Once outside, I had to ask why I even bothered. Every hair on my head flew in opposite directions. Normally, that would have been no big deal. But, today I needed to stop in a few stores. At one of the stores I purchased a bouquet of flowers. They were nearly stripped down to the stems by the wind. So much for happy. Let's talk about survival.
Well, I think the concept is wonderful. Really, I do. Being happy for 100 days in a row. Wow! I know there are people who will work hard to achieve this worthy goal. I am not one of them. My life is a series of ups and downs, ins and outs, happy, sad, challenged, ticked off, delighted. It moves and circles. As it moves and circles, moods and feelings move with it. There is no way I know how I will feel tomorrow. Or the next day. Certainly I can be more aware of others and realize that my attitude affects those around me. But, I think I will take the next 100 days as they come. Some will bring saddness. Others joy. Some will bring challenges. What I can do is celebrate the fact that I am given another 100 days. That appeals to me.
I think I will try for 60 seconds of happy. Then increase it to five minutes. Follow that with thirty minutes. Push for the hour. But, if an unhappy thought makes its way into my mind, I will not feel defeated. I will simply start the process all over--going in small increments. I think I can handle that.
Take good care.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Taking Time Off
Taking Time Off
Just a short note to let you know that I am taking time off to put my second book together. Many of my blogs will appear in this book. There will also be new writings that have not posted. It takes much effort to put a book together. It also takes a lot of time. Without the help of others, the book would never be ready for purchase. If everything goes as planned, it will be printed and in my hands by May 1.
I am anxious to return to writing my blog. It is my way of relating to life. But, for the next month or so, I need to focus on this project.
And yes, spring is on the way. She gets sidetracked, but she is making progress towards us!
Take good care.
Just a short note to let you know that I am taking time off to put my second book together. Many of my blogs will appear in this book. There will also be new writings that have not posted. It takes much effort to put a book together. It also takes a lot of time. Without the help of others, the book would never be ready for purchase. If everything goes as planned, it will be printed and in my hands by May 1.
I am anxious to return to writing my blog. It is my way of relating to life. But, for the next month or so, I need to focus on this project.
And yes, spring is on the way. She gets sidetracked, but she is making progress towards us!
Take good care.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
A Novel?
A Novel?
She saw him making his way toward her. He was dressed in that t-shirt and tight jeans she loved. The shirt matched the color of his eyes and hugged his muscles. He walked with such confidence. It was obvious he knew who he was and where he was going in life. And she was the lucky one. He was all hers.
Oh my gosh. Did I really just write that paragraph? Let's rewrite it to fit everyday life.
She saw him making his way toward her. He was dressed in yesterday's t-shirt that had paint spatters all over the front. There was a big hole under the sleeve on the right side. His jeans were baggy and out of style. The shirt and his eyes were no where near the same color, and muscles? Actually, he did walk with confidence. However, it was obvious he had no clue where he had been or where he was going. Sometimes he walked into a room and forgot why he was there. She understood because she did that, too. Yes, he was all hers. And she was happy about that.
As you can tell, I could never write a novel. But, it is fun to think about it. Writing fiction must be so much fun. The writer can make the characters do and say whatever they want. They can mimic real life or live totally in a fantasy world. What a great gift to be able to write stories.
That is not my style. In fact, I have been wondering exactly what my style is. Sometimes people ask me what my books are about. My usual answer is they are about life experiences. I observe life happening and then share what I have seen and heard. Or I give my impression of what I have seen and heard. Does that describe it? I am not sure.
What I do know is life is full to overflowing with color and beauty. Each experience I observe teaches me new lessons. I store those lessons in my memory and use them to make life richer for others. Works of fiction have the ability to teach, also. When I was still in the classroom, I would tell my students that there were lessons to be learned in short stories. We simply had to dig into the story to find the meaning that could be applied to everyday life. They would often roll their eyes and grumble about having to read such stupid stories. But, we did read them, and we did talk about them.
Each life is a story. Each life has its own cast of characters, settings, conflicts, resolutions. Each has colors--bright and dark. The journey through life presents challenges that force us to reach deep within. That is the beauty of it all. We never cease to grow and learn. We are constantly in motion either physically or emotionally. Our story unfolds in bits and pieces. Sometimes we like the way it is moving. Other times we do not.
While we live in the real world, the world of fiction and fantasy allows us to escape for just a bit. We can imagine that good-looking guy staring at us from across the room. We can imagine being swept off our feet and onto the dance floor. We can almost feel the excitement of having every eye in the room glued to "us" as we dance across the floor. Yes, it is good to live in that world for awhile.
And then we return to the real world. We see that partner who holds our heart so carefully and lovingly. We smile at the person who loves us even when we are so darn unlovable. We have shared memories with that person. We have made a life with that human. No author can write about the love we know. Words are not adequate.
Fiction is fun. Real is better.
She saw him making his way toward her. He was dressed in that t-shirt and tight jeans she loved. The shirt matched the color of his eyes and hugged his muscles. He walked with such confidence. It was obvious he knew who he was and where he was going in life. And she was the lucky one. He was all hers.
Oh my gosh. Did I really just write that paragraph? Let's rewrite it to fit everyday life.
She saw him making his way toward her. He was dressed in yesterday's t-shirt that had paint spatters all over the front. There was a big hole under the sleeve on the right side. His jeans were baggy and out of style. The shirt and his eyes were no where near the same color, and muscles? Actually, he did walk with confidence. However, it was obvious he had no clue where he had been or where he was going. Sometimes he walked into a room and forgot why he was there. She understood because she did that, too. Yes, he was all hers. And she was happy about that.
As you can tell, I could never write a novel. But, it is fun to think about it. Writing fiction must be so much fun. The writer can make the characters do and say whatever they want. They can mimic real life or live totally in a fantasy world. What a great gift to be able to write stories.
That is not my style. In fact, I have been wondering exactly what my style is. Sometimes people ask me what my books are about. My usual answer is they are about life experiences. I observe life happening and then share what I have seen and heard. Or I give my impression of what I have seen and heard. Does that describe it? I am not sure.
What I do know is life is full to overflowing with color and beauty. Each experience I observe teaches me new lessons. I store those lessons in my memory and use them to make life richer for others. Works of fiction have the ability to teach, also. When I was still in the classroom, I would tell my students that there were lessons to be learned in short stories. We simply had to dig into the story to find the meaning that could be applied to everyday life. They would often roll their eyes and grumble about having to read such stupid stories. But, we did read them, and we did talk about them.
Each life is a story. Each life has its own cast of characters, settings, conflicts, resolutions. Each has colors--bright and dark. The journey through life presents challenges that force us to reach deep within. That is the beauty of it all. We never cease to grow and learn. We are constantly in motion either physically or emotionally. Our story unfolds in bits and pieces. Sometimes we like the way it is moving. Other times we do not.
While we live in the real world, the world of fiction and fantasy allows us to escape for just a bit. We can imagine that good-looking guy staring at us from across the room. We can imagine being swept off our feet and onto the dance floor. We can almost feel the excitement of having every eye in the room glued to "us" as we dance across the floor. Yes, it is good to live in that world for awhile.
And then we return to the real world. We see that partner who holds our heart so carefully and lovingly. We smile at the person who loves us even when we are so darn unlovable. We have shared memories with that person. We have made a life with that human. No author can write about the love we know. Words are not adequate.
Fiction is fun. Real is better.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
What is the Greatest Gift?
What is the Greatest Gift?
Ask that question to a five year old child, and the answer would probably be that new toy they saw advertised on television. Marketing companies know exactly when to have those commercials available for viewing for this particuar audience.
A child of ten might say a phone would be the greatest gift. A phone gives them instant communication with their friends. They can text, instant message, send pictures and do other functions I simply don't understand. It is a mark of their freedom from parents. They can escape into their own world by simply pushing a few buttons.
That sixteen year old who has an eye on a vehicle would more than likely respond with "wheels." This makes perfect sense. That license to drive with the picture on it is worth more than gold. It is such a precious gift. For the young person it is further proof of maturity. For the adults--perhaps not so much! With that little piece of plastic comes the added worry of a young person behind a wheel. But, we have all been there. Maybe that is the reason we are so fearful when our person leaves with the car for the first time.
Being accepted into the college/university of choice could be seen as the greatest gift. After years and years of school, studying at the school of choice is certainly a wonderful experience. Four or more years to gain knowledge, grow as a human person, make decisions about life's work. Those years are the middle years between high school and work. They provide time to mature. They broaden our horizons. They are such an important time in the life of a young person.
After graduation from college, the greatest gift could very easily be a job. All at once the future is in our face. We have to make so many new decisions. Where will we live? How will we pay the bils? What do we really want to do? Money is seen in a new way at this point. That job gives us freedom, but it comes with a high cost.
And so it goes. As we grow older, our ideas of the greatest gift shift. Or maybe we have always known what the greatest gift really is. Maybe life simply got in the way of our vision. Somewhere in all of life's passages, we come to see the real truth about the greatest gift.
It isn't cars or bikes or jobs. It can't be bought. The only way to claim it is to give it away. What a paradox. You know what that greatest gift is, don't you?
Yes, it is love. It is the knowledge that someone cares for us above all else. It is the knowledge that no matter what life brings, someone will walk that walk with us. We are loved unconditionally. Even with all our warts. Someone sees the good and beautiful in us. What a wonderful gift. It is perfect.
It is possible to withhold love for many reasons. I would ask you to think about why we withhold our love. Maybe we want to get even. Maybe we are scared we won't be loved in return. Perhaps we are keeping score. Whatever the reasons we humans use for not loving, the truth is this. We are the ones who are hurt the most by our refusal to extend ourselves in love.
I know this is a trickly slope. Love as portrayed in movies and tv is fiction. We live in the real world where loving is often difficult. We are hurt by another's actions or words, and we pull away. We are afraid of that person or situation. We wrap our emotions in love proof shields. No one will ever get to us like that again. You know what? I completely understand this. But, the truth is we often go years and years with a heart protected from anything lovely that might happen our way. That is a great saddness. A great saddness indeed.
I do know this--I love spending time with each of you! Whatever your circumstances, it is my sincere hope that love surrounds you. Each and every day.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
The Birthing Process--A New Twist
The Birthing Process--A New Twist
Have been experiencing "labor pains" lately. Yes, it is true. There will be no more human children coming forth from this woman. But, there are other types of labor pains, and they can be almost as painful as childbirth.
The labor pains I am experiencing are of my own making. They appear almost every time I sit down at my computer and attempt to birth a new idea. Or birth a new twist to an old idea. They usually begin with my fingers poised and ready to deliver words to the keyboard. The keyboard is waiting..waiting. I am forever grateful to those who invented the computer and that wonderful delete key. Mine is almost worn out. Birthing ideas and putting them into coherent sentences is difficut and time consuming.
My mind explodes with thoughts and ideas. However, often those ideas and thoughts do not appear in paragraph form. They are single thoughts. It is my responsibility to give birth to them. This process can take hours or days. The struggle is to make the thoughts and ideas easy for the reader to follow. Agony is a constant companion during these times. It is painful when the thought is within sight but just outside my reach.
However, I am pleased as punch to share with you that my second book is almost ready for the printer. I have labored long and hard to put together essays that make the reader smile, think, remember. I am happy and relieved to share with you that there are only a few items remaining for me to decide.
One very important thing I must birth is the title of this second book. Once that decision is finalized, I will have direction in the design of the front and back cover. It sounds so easy. In fact, it is difficult. Another decision facing me is the selection of photographs for the essays. Adding photographs to the book is quite costly. However, I think they greatly enhance the text. Soon my camera and I will spend time examining the world around us.
Then it is off to the printer. This part of the process is time consuming. They will make a copy of the book and send it to me. It is my task to proof it. Once I have completed that, I sign off on the book, and it is printed. But, before that final step, there will be many emails and phone conversations. The printing company wants to make sure they have it exactly as the writer wishes.
I am hoping to have it available for purchase by the first of May. If you are interested in a copy, email or message me on facebook. That will help me make the decision about how many copies to print. I will not know the cost until the order for copies is submitted.
Labor is a tricky process. Sometimes it happens quickly. What a blessed relief. Sometimes it requires time and stress. But, when the process is complete, what joy!
My labor is coming to an end. I am ready!
Have been experiencing "labor pains" lately. Yes, it is true. There will be no more human children coming forth from this woman. But, there are other types of labor pains, and they can be almost as painful as childbirth.
The labor pains I am experiencing are of my own making. They appear almost every time I sit down at my computer and attempt to birth a new idea. Or birth a new twist to an old idea. They usually begin with my fingers poised and ready to deliver words to the keyboard. The keyboard is waiting..waiting. I am forever grateful to those who invented the computer and that wonderful delete key. Mine is almost worn out. Birthing ideas and putting them into coherent sentences is difficut and time consuming.
My mind explodes with thoughts and ideas. However, often those ideas and thoughts do not appear in paragraph form. They are single thoughts. It is my responsibility to give birth to them. This process can take hours or days. The struggle is to make the thoughts and ideas easy for the reader to follow. Agony is a constant companion during these times. It is painful when the thought is within sight but just outside my reach.
However, I am pleased as punch to share with you that my second book is almost ready for the printer. I have labored long and hard to put together essays that make the reader smile, think, remember. I am happy and relieved to share with you that there are only a few items remaining for me to decide.
One very important thing I must birth is the title of this second book. Once that decision is finalized, I will have direction in the design of the front and back cover. It sounds so easy. In fact, it is difficult. Another decision facing me is the selection of photographs for the essays. Adding photographs to the book is quite costly. However, I think they greatly enhance the text. Soon my camera and I will spend time examining the world around us.
Then it is off to the printer. This part of the process is time consuming. They will make a copy of the book and send it to me. It is my task to proof it. Once I have completed that, I sign off on the book, and it is printed. But, before that final step, there will be many emails and phone conversations. The printing company wants to make sure they have it exactly as the writer wishes.
I am hoping to have it available for purchase by the first of May. If you are interested in a copy, email or message me on facebook. That will help me make the decision about how many copies to print. I will not know the cost until the order for copies is submitted.
Labor is a tricky process. Sometimes it happens quickly. What a blessed relief. Sometimes it requires time and stress. But, when the process is complete, what joy!
My labor is coming to an end. I am ready!
Monday, February 17, 2014
Glitz, Glitter and Grace--
Glitz, Glitter and Grace--
The drive north was difficult. Rain came down in buckets. Semi trucks sent oceans of water onto our windshield leaving us with zero visibility. Our windshield wipers worked overtime trying to help us see the lines on the road. We were so grateful for the four new tires we purchased one day prior to our trip. They not only gave us a smooth ride, but they also gripped the road.
As night fell, we knew it would be impossible to see those beloved painted lines on the road. It was time to begin the search for a place to stay the night. We needed to rest our weary eyes, backs and nerves.
We found a place that satisfied both of us. They had a room. After taking care of the business end of a night's stay, we returned to our car. We unloaded our suitcases and other treasures and walked back into the lobby. We looked pretty exhausted. Dressed in jeans, tennis shoes and sweat shirts, we made our way to the elevators. We didn't really want anyone to notice us.
As we approached the elevators, a few women swished in beside us. Now these women were dressed to the nines. I was keenly aware of the fact that I had not "done" my hair that morning nor had I applied make-up. It was one of those moments that make women cringe. There was no place to hide so I did the next best thing.
I asked why they were so dressed up. When I say they were dressed-up, I don't mean in suits. No, I mean in evening wear. Glittery long dresses, smart shoes, beautiful jewelry, evening bags, perfect make-up, not one hair out of place, nails manicured and polished. Some had long dresses that looked like something from Gone With the Wind. One woman had to have the elevator to herself because her dress was just huge.
Those who entered the elevator with us explained that they were all there for a DAR convention. DAR is Daughters of the American Revolution. They said they had just come from a dinner meeting and were on their way to the next part of the evening. Others in the elevator added more information. They were delightful and so gracious.
After we threw our luggage into our room, we headed back down to the lobby. Once again we shared an elevator with more beautifully dressed women. This time I asked where they were meeting. When we finished our business, I made my way down corridors to the room where they were gathering.
Large double doors opened in a room full of happy women. In the front of the room was a stage. A podium stood on the left hand side of the stage. Green ferns lined the stage giving a soft look to the hard edges of the wood. Rows of padded seats formed lines on the right and left sides of the room. A wide center aisle provided the walkway for all those women sitting and waiting just outside the double doors. Evidently those women were the leadership of the group.
Dressed in my wrinkled jeans, sweat shirt and tennis shoes, I asked it I might slip into the room before the doors were closed. Yes, I could. The only thing asked of me was that I not leave the room during a prayer. That was certainly an acceptable request. So, after the procession had filed into the room, I took my place against the back wall. A few women gave me a little "look." I totally understood. But, no one approached me and asked me to leave.
Once everyone was in their places, the group recited the Pledge--to our country and to their state. Then we all sang The Star Spangle Banner. There were a few more group recitations from memory. At that point exhaustion began to seep into my bones so I quietly opened the door and left.
What a wonderful experience. One woman told me she is the webmaster for the group. She invited me to go to the site and read about DAR and their state group. I will do that. She also took the time to explain each pin she was wearing on her shoulder sash. She was very proud of her association with such a special group.
Thinking back, I had a choice that evening. I could have smiled and gone to our room. Brushed my teeth, put on pj's, turned on the Olympics, fluffed my pillows and rested. But, I made another choice. I decided to learn about the women so elegantly dressed. Not one of them made me feel uncomfortable even though it was quite evident I had been traveling for many hours. They were just as fine as the clothes they wore.
It turned out to be a most special ending to a long and tiring day in the car. A thought--When you are given an opportunity to learn, what choice will you make?
(My husband has traced his lineage to the American Revolution. He can be a Son of the American Revolution! Pretty special)
The drive north was difficult. Rain came down in buckets. Semi trucks sent oceans of water onto our windshield leaving us with zero visibility. Our windshield wipers worked overtime trying to help us see the lines on the road. We were so grateful for the four new tires we purchased one day prior to our trip. They not only gave us a smooth ride, but they also gripped the road.
As night fell, we knew it would be impossible to see those beloved painted lines on the road. It was time to begin the search for a place to stay the night. We needed to rest our weary eyes, backs and nerves.
We found a place that satisfied both of us. They had a room. After taking care of the business end of a night's stay, we returned to our car. We unloaded our suitcases and other treasures and walked back into the lobby. We looked pretty exhausted. Dressed in jeans, tennis shoes and sweat shirts, we made our way to the elevators. We didn't really want anyone to notice us.
As we approached the elevators, a few women swished in beside us. Now these women were dressed to the nines. I was keenly aware of the fact that I had not "done" my hair that morning nor had I applied make-up. It was one of those moments that make women cringe. There was no place to hide so I did the next best thing.
I asked why they were so dressed up. When I say they were dressed-up, I don't mean in suits. No, I mean in evening wear. Glittery long dresses, smart shoes, beautiful jewelry, evening bags, perfect make-up, not one hair out of place, nails manicured and polished. Some had long dresses that looked like something from Gone With the Wind. One woman had to have the elevator to herself because her dress was just huge.
Those who entered the elevator with us explained that they were all there for a DAR convention. DAR is Daughters of the American Revolution. They said they had just come from a dinner meeting and were on their way to the next part of the evening. Others in the elevator added more information. They were delightful and so gracious.
After we threw our luggage into our room, we headed back down to the lobby. Once again we shared an elevator with more beautifully dressed women. This time I asked where they were meeting. When we finished our business, I made my way down corridors to the room where they were gathering.
Large double doors opened in a room full of happy women. In the front of the room was a stage. A podium stood on the left hand side of the stage. Green ferns lined the stage giving a soft look to the hard edges of the wood. Rows of padded seats formed lines on the right and left sides of the room. A wide center aisle provided the walkway for all those women sitting and waiting just outside the double doors. Evidently those women were the leadership of the group.
Dressed in my wrinkled jeans, sweat shirt and tennis shoes, I asked it I might slip into the room before the doors were closed. Yes, I could. The only thing asked of me was that I not leave the room during a prayer. That was certainly an acceptable request. So, after the procession had filed into the room, I took my place against the back wall. A few women gave me a little "look." I totally understood. But, no one approached me and asked me to leave.
Once everyone was in their places, the group recited the Pledge--to our country and to their state. Then we all sang The Star Spangle Banner. There were a few more group recitations from memory. At that point exhaustion began to seep into my bones so I quietly opened the door and left.
What a wonderful experience. One woman told me she is the webmaster for the group. She invited me to go to the site and read about DAR and their state group. I will do that. She also took the time to explain each pin she was wearing on her shoulder sash. She was very proud of her association with such a special group.
Thinking back, I had a choice that evening. I could have smiled and gone to our room. Brushed my teeth, put on pj's, turned on the Olympics, fluffed my pillows and rested. But, I made another choice. I decided to learn about the women so elegantly dressed. Not one of them made me feel uncomfortable even though it was quite evident I had been traveling for many hours. They were just as fine as the clothes they wore.
It turned out to be a most special ending to a long and tiring day in the car. A thought--When you are given an opportunity to learn, what choice will you make?
(My husband has traced his lineage to the American Revolution. He can be a Son of the American Revolution! Pretty special)
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