Relationships

Inklings

It’s how it starts. Inklings, thoughts, small, unformed ideas floating separately above me, waiting to link to something old and creating something new.

The thing is, I have found its best to let them be, to shape themselves as they will and watch as they unfold.

Doing my bit, my piece, my part?

Well, yes, naturally, but sometimes the biggest inkling I get is to do nothing at all. Instead, I am to coach, question, bring out and help show the way to one, or to another – sometimes to small groups and gatherers of hope.

Is It Enough?

I wonder sometimes if who I am, just as I am, is “enough”. In a world where Western values have taught me my pedigree is as important as my physical appearance, I feel like I do anything but measure up.

In Sweden, though, where things aren’t looked at in the same way, it feels like I’m too much.

And in-between, there are all the layers underneath first impressions, personal stories, and the histories that have made us who we tell others we are.

When I catch myself rejecting someone else – in terms of personal relationship potential – I immediately then apply the same standards to myself.

That’s when I realize how far from the ideal I probably am to others, too.

Which, for a gal who has always struggled with the acceptance of “subprime”, the idea of 1) being someone that someone else has “settled” for or 2) settling for something hard for me to accept in another isn’t all that great.

The difference between acceptance and settling is where it all lies, don’t you think?

 

 

One by One

Just recently there has been:

  1. One that I loved, but didn’t like.
  2. One that I liked, but didn’t love.
  3. Two that I met; one of which interested me.
  4. One that likes and loves me, and that I like and love, but not “in that way”.
  5. One that I’ve known but I now see in a different light (Mmmm!).
  6. One that I saw and thought, “Looks good to me!”

 

 

 

 

Secret Sides

Tonight was “girl’s night” at the local pub. A group of 8 women who were looking to make new friends had come together to listen to another friend sing.

Talk – almost all done in Swedish (and of which I was comprehending about 80% of WITH answers of my own på svenska) – was varied and good.

Then, the drinks started taking effect. They loosened up. We moved inside the pub to order dinner. More drinks came. Music started.

That’s when the “secret side” of my beloved Swedes came out.

See, for all the stereotypes about how “cold” they can be or how “boxed in” they are with their written rules for behavior (seriously, they have them), once you put Swedes in front of music (and add a little alcohol) a whole ‘nuther side to them opens up.

They ALL know the words to the songs the band plays and they ALL belt them out at the top of their lungs. They clap, they stomp, they cheer, they drink a little more.

But, if you can catch them before they drink too much, and if you yourself are stone cold sober (I don’t drink), then you’ll not be able to do anything except grin and smile and shake your head in disbelief.

It’s happened a few times here for me; being invited to be part of a group of Swedish people when they go out to eat and drink and listen to a band. Every time, I feel so lucky and my love for these people and this culture grows. To see them celebrate life and love each other so openly and warmly makes my own heart sing.

The next day, should you happen to run into the very same people you saw dancing their butts off the night before, it’s entirely possible they will not acknowledge you, but don’t take it personally.

They’ve hidden their secret sides and will wait until the next Friday night singalong to let loose again.

Going Home

Me. What I’ll be doing in 35 days.

I will stand on a ladder so I can reach the top of my boy’s head and I will smell his hair for hours and hours.

Three and a half years away is three and a half years too long.

And, when it’s time to return to my new home, I hope it will be okay and I hope I won’t cry.

 

Almost Forgot …

Were it not for the notifications that just came in that my dear friend, E, “liked/commented” on my last post, I would have forgotten to write here today at all.

Smiles.

That’s something, isn’t it?

It’s Been Awhile

My friend shares a poem on Twitter almost every day. The first time I read it I clicked the “like” button.

good night.

you did it again.

you lived a complete day.

you did everything that you could.

you worked. learned. grew. helped.

you persevered. traveled forward.

you loved. were loved. are loved.

you now may rest. sleep. dream.

good work.

good luck.

good night.”

@myqkaplan

The second time I read it, I thought I must have not refreshed my feed and so, was seeing the same tweet all over again (I have all their tweets on a special list).

The third time I saw the tweet, and then every time they retweeted it again, I realized what I was seeing/reading.

I knew – more than I had before – what this poem meant and was better able to direct thoughts and prayers their way because I knew that these words were necessary for them.

This morning I saw it again and it slowly dawned on me that it’s been awhile since I’ve needed to do this – cling to a poem or a group of words to remind me that I’ve survived another day.

That it’s been about six months since I had to fight for each day, hour, or second of my life or had a sense that I’d survive enough to keep living it without conscious reminders. 

I think I can name the pieces that came together to make this possible but, also, a big part of me suspects most of it was just the passing of time and the deep and constant presence of the Lord.

Which, … well, I guess it makes me aware … and it also gives me a bit of softening toward myself and some big ass, head-shaking, wonder-filled gratitude, as well.

It’s been a long while since I’ve been able to think in terms of “it’s been awhile” re. life and the ability to do it.

Thank You, God.

 

What a Difference a Day Makes

Today was a “city” day with one of my first and best Swedish friends.

Every time I leave the islands I’m amazed at all the people and life I’m not used to seeing regularly.

And that’s enough to tell me it needs to be a regular part of my routine (going into the city).

So, once summer is over, I think I’ll be working there – at least part-time.

🙂

10 Days

That’s how long it took for me to realize and start asking for help. And like the GOOD, good God He is, He answered in ways I was able to hear.

And tonight, I bowed down again, in wonder and awe and more than a little humbled/undone awe.

The trick now?

To NEVER let ten days go by again. Ever.