Thinking back to work outside the home

I remember, when I was struggling in my corporate job, a poem Shawn emailed me that sucker soaked that day in healing. I printed it out and put it on my desk, but behind some papers. I wanted to be able to read it when I was feeling sorry for myself, but I didn't want anyone to see the secret words Shawn had sent me.

We're going through the office, purging and cleaning every cranny so we might create a calm space for Eenie Menie. We're not very organized, but I did wander across a crammed folder from work. It houses my resume, some atta-girl emails, my maternity leave proposal (which totally kicked butt), my letter of resignation, some other human resources odds/ends including information on the two graduate courses I took, and that poem.

It was a small bit of paper that spoke to me to not become defeated. To not give up on the daily grind. To not give up on doing my work as unto the Lord. To not give up on the people who needed my loyalty and diligence, and sometimes, a sprinkling of mercy.

Much like I wasn't ready to relinquish that poem, I'm also not ready to give up that tattered yellow folder. It holds memories of someone I was really proud of.

Begin Again

last stanza:
Every day is a fresh beginning;
Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain,
And, spite of old sorrow and older sinning,
And puzzles forecasted and possible pain
Take heart with the day, and begin again.

Click here for full poem by Susan Coolidge

Snow my canvas, the hardened earth my easel, by mh

It's Monday, sometimes the trickiest day of the week. Look in the mirror, like who you are, and understand that you matter. Give someone a mighty hug, phone a kindred, tell a tale, dance ridiculously.

Live the way you want to be remembered. ~Gracia Burnham