Like Jesus

None of us can be just like Jesus.
I am certain.

But sometimes I observe familiar qualities in other people and know I am recognizing glimpses of him.

My mom is a beautiful woman who looks like she spends way more time and money on her appearance than she actually does. When she gets her hair cut, she doesn't go to a fancy salon or an expensive stylist.

She goes to Rose.

An Average Woman's Question

When you look at her,
what will you see?
An average woman
too plain to be
a photogenic
beauty queen,
just someone
in-between?

A woman with average hair and eyes,
of almost average body size,
who seldom, but who sometimes, cries,
a woman who always tries?

When I Don't Want Fireworks

A part of me exists that longs for
excitement and adventure---

trips to faraway places and fast-paced cities,

grand opportunities.

But sometimes, the simplest things
make me the happiest.
  

On October 31, I went through the same routine I go through every year on Halloween. I pop my old VHS tape in the VCR (yes, a VHS tape in the VCR) and watch "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" as I began stepping into in an inexpensive costume, mostly thrown together from my closet. I excitedly hop in my car to make the approximately 23-minute drive to my hometown, where I first pull in the horizontal drive of Ms. Margie, the 90-year-old woman who alters my clothes and is the mother to my aunt-by-marriage. It doesn't matter that she really isn't related to me. It feels certain that she is. Since she doesn't drive, I take her the half-mile through town to my Aunt Martha and Uncle Steve's old white house, full of warmth and coziness and memories.

When You Don't Know What Else To Say, So You Just Say "Thanks"

Their words might sound like compliments or politeness---yet they make you pause, and puzzle your brows as you think:

"WHAT did they mean by that?!"

Have you ever experienced those moments?

Years ago, an old boyfriend sweetly whispered to me, "I really like you. You're so ordinary."

Huh?

What Good Women Shouldn't Be

For the past two weeks, I have felt depleted.

Exhausted. Fuzzy-brained. Emotional. Drained. Down.

Not sure of the cause, but probably the combination
of inadequate rest and new, challenging work.

And the one emotion that often nags at me
when I feel this way
is an almost imperceptible bit of guilt.

Yes. Guilt.