"On Self-Pity"

"Glad to have you back," a reader commented, referencing the fact that it had been over a month since I had written and posted anything.  When yet another reader mentioned the same thing, it gave me pause for thought.

I only write what I experience.  Where have I been and what has been going on in my life for the past month that kept me from sharing myself?  
  
Today was a mowing day--a wet one at that, but I had plenty of time to think as I plodded back and forth behind my mower.  Somewhere between the 2nd lawn and the 4th one, I knew exactly where I have been.   

self-pity:   excessive, self-absorbed unhappiness over one's life; a self-indulgent, exaggerated attitude concerning one's difficulties, hardships, etc. 

The realization hit me that I was stuck in the quicksand of self-pity for quite some time, consumed by a "poor me, woe is me" attitude.  It gave me good reason to look at that state, that place.  

When self is the focus, life is like a hamster wheel, with the scenery never really changing and the theme song remaining the same.  Self-pity is a debilitating place, rendering one incapable of reaching out to others.  It is the equivalent of creating one's own solitary confinement.  

The gardening season has been a wet one, but no worse than any other years; my gardening schedule overwhelming, but no worse than any other years.  My attitude is what made the difference.

Communication with God consisted of "I am old, and I am soooo tired," along with "I'm not going to make it."  Can't you just hear the wailing?  I'm surprised I didn't resort to weeping and beating my chest.  Only He knows how many times I sounded that cry of desperation, and I have no doubt He brought out the earplugs.  

I called it whining, and when I tried dragging a friend along to my pity party, I knew something needed to change, for it had gone beyond whining--or even moaning and groaning.  I was miserable in my state.

Finally, I stopped throwing words at God and planted myself before Him.  "I'm not whining," I told Him.  "I'm complaining."

Very softly, very quietly--"In everything give thanks, for this is My will." 

I cannot explain to you how change takes place at the hand of our Creator.  I only know that it does.  "I'm not suffering," I thought.  "I'm just tired."  And that is how I came back. Once again I am free to share.

I worked today in inclement weather and got quite soaked and yet it was a good day, a productive one. That is what it is like when I'm not wallowing in self-pity.

"Our God is a good God," I told my friend.  And He is.



      

"On Regret"

"So, Ladonna, what is your story?" he asked.  I found I was at a loss for words, which is extremely rare for me.

The young man and I had recently been introduced to one another and were in the garden of a client.  It was his way of becoming better acquainted, of making conversation while working together on gardening tasks.

The question was one I had never been asked before.  A deluge of thoughts instantly filled my mind like water released through floodgates.  How does one condense a span of 71 years into a few sentences?

I ended up telling him where I was born and raised.  That I grew up on a farm where my father fed our family from a huge garden and large orchard, my mother freezing and preserving it all; that he had a small herd of milk cows and raised the beef our family ate; that my childhood was simple yet rich, though not in a monetary sense.  They were basic facts about my life but, I realized, not "my story."

Each of us has one--a story, that is.  Our stories are uniquely individual and personal, and we are the sole possessors of them.  There are no duplicates.

regret:  to feel sorry about anything that has or has not happened; to feel sorry about anything

The house has been vacant since my client passed away several months ago, but I continue maintaining the garden, as it has been placed on the market for sale.  The lawn needed mowing today, and as I was edging it, I heard myself tell my Father, "Thank you for my life.  I have no regrets."

Regret is an insidious cohort.  Time is ever moving forward; reliving or redoing the past is not an option.  The "what ifs" and "if only(s)," beginning as seeds of thought, can grow within one's mind, gradually taking over and becoming obsessive, until we are unable to live life in the present.  

The piano has been a part of my life for as long as I have memory.  I began taking lessons when I was 5.  As a young girl, perhaps 9 or so, I was given the opportunity to study at The Juilliard School of Music via a correspondence course facilitated by my piano teacher. My parents declined.  I don't know their reasoning; I was never consulted nor involved in the decision.  In fact, we never spoke of it, neither the opportunity nor the decision.

The incident, deep in the recesses of my mind, wasn't given much thought until years later.  It was then I got caught up in an imaginary world.  What if I had gone down that road?  Would I be a world-famous concert pianist?  What had I missed out on?  What had my parents denied me?  My mind was consumed.

As time passed, I realized I had been given a gift.  Life as a classical pianist would not have suited me.  It would have been a perfect environment for ego and a self-centered, narcissistic attitude to thrive and explode. I would have been of no "earthly good" to anyone, absorbed by and focused on one thing and one thing only--self.  For me, striving for perfection at that level diminished all the joy of playing.  In addition, the competition in the music world is fierce, and I very probably would have not survived the cut of the very elite.

The hypothetical wondering about a road not taken was replaced with "I have no regrets."

At the end of high school I made a decision, that of getting married instead of attending college.  It wasn't based on finances, as there probably would have been resources available; it was very personal, one which many felt defied logic.

As I am wont to do, when I make such a decision, I don't look back, and I didn't. 

The base of all things and all life is spiritual.  Instead of training as a classical pianist or preparing for a career in a variety of fields, I was given another kind of education, one personally designed for me, at the feet of God.  "My story" is founded on that spiritual walk, getting to knowing Him as a person and learning how to live my life with Him.     
   
Fast forward almost 54 years, and I find myself a 71-year-old single woman, self-employed as a gardener, mowing the lawn of a client who has passed away.  I had no career, have no degree beyond high school, and have none of the perks that go along with those things, such as financial stability and resources.  
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Do I have any regrets?  No, I don't.  I have one life and only one.  This is the one ordained for me, and I am a wealthy woman for I have that which money cannot buy.   

My challenge to you is that you examine your life, your story, before our Father.  And may you have no regrets as well--in this life or the next to come.