A KINDRED SPIRIT

Chapel of the Swallows---Matthias Haker

Folks, this endless font of WORDS has been a bit droughty lately, with all the SPRING thoughts and silent, overnight surges of GREEN which have left our “back forty” looking like the Down-Home kudzu fields in August.   A few home-keepings and repairings and cleanings, and I’m just wandering through the days with what thoughts there are just whispering away like misty tendrils of dreams, before I can get the gloves off or my hands dried to grab a pen.  My brain feels stripped to the echoes some days, like this pale, tumbled wraith of a chapel, as I log in and see that same old post I shared days and weeks ago, with nary another in mind.  

And so I just devour yours, looking my eyes full of wondrous things, soothing my soul and smelling your roses, trading mere crumbs for all your hyacinths, in an uneven exchange for all the bounty.

You know how I love just traipsing around through all the blogs and notes and little sharings on this marvelous menu board we all belong to---well, I have found a wondrous kindred spirit!!   She’s a sampler and a delver and somewhat of the gobbler of happy things that I am.  And she expresses the interest and the joy of finding and the happy gratitude that I, too, feel in the great offerings which you provide. 

From her personal biography on her blog, pretty little rough patches

She's VAL, a new and wonderful friend:

IN VAL'S WORDS:

 You know how people joke about visiting someone only to have to sit through his/her slide shows of vacations, pets, and family outings?  I'm a person who is thrilled by such things.  Tell me about your best friend from elementary school, your best friend now, the first person who broke your heart, the work you do and the work you want to do, the language you'd love to learn and the lesson you need to learn, the last movie you loved and didn't want to end and the last book you hated too much to finish, the flowers that most remind you of your grandmother, the birthday cake you always bake or buy for your wife, your funniest memory of your grandfather, the dress you'll save forever because you once had a perfect day wearing it, those songs that take you back to high school, that one dog who was your Best Dog EVER, the craziest neighbors you've ever had, and the kindness a stranger showed you the day your child died. 

 Give me your tired, your poor, your fridges covered in magnet-held family pictures and your scrapbooks bursting open with saved mementos. . . . ♥  

Where did you find the piece of driftwood shaped like a seal?!  I love it.  ♥  Is that photo you and your sister when you were kids?!  ♥  Oh!  Your dog by the fireplace Christmas morning!  Look at his FACE!  ♥  Is that sketch of the house that you told me about?  ♥  That has to be your mom's photo above your chair--You look just like her.  ♥ 

                                                              

My seventh-grade English teacher always had us spend one class period a week writing journal entries that we would hand in to her to read.  She said that we could write about absolutely anything and that that there was really nothing she didn't think was interesting.  I remember thinking, when I heard her say that, "Well, yeah, I'm the same way."  I hadn't known it until she articulated it, so that realization stuck in my memory.  And now I live in the Age of the Internet and get to see your slide shows and hear your stories this way, and every day, I find someone--and something--else that interests me.  And I love that.

Keep telling your own stories.  Make time for your friends.  Finish and mail the letter you keep meaning to write.  Offer a piece of gum to the person sharing the elevator with you.  Keep putting yourself out there.  Say thank you.  And remember that even when it's rough, life is good and beautiful and worth the effort.  Ride it out.  Find the silver lining.  Go hug your cat.  ♥

 

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

And from me, echoing THAT, every word,   Go look in.   You'll love her.

 

Linking today to Jeanne’s BLUE MONDAY.