Mr. Firewood did not show up yesterday afternoon. Sadness.
The worst of me is that I cannot shake the social lessons I learned so early...many of which centered around that pair of Guess jeans I did not own until it was too late.
The girl who never had her locker decorated or got a spirit carnation or a silly valentine gram or an invitation to girls' choice dances or birthday parties or any such thing.
At two different churches, women lamented, in a way, of how much work they had to do with mailings and bulletins and such. I offer again and again to help, but my help is not needed, even when they are drowning in paper. They have families and lives they could get back to if only I were allowed to help. But my help is not wanted. What is wrong with my help? What is wrong with me?
I had someone who told me she was coming over to retrieve some things 5 times. Five times she did not show, nor did she call/text/email. She is busy, but why say she was coming, why check to see what was a good time for her to come?
Trying to get to know someone, I asked her and her family over to supper four times, for we had someone in common. Four times the response was Yes, how kind, I will call and let you know a good time. No call, no text, no email. No greeting even in church.
Someone I know decided knowing me was a mistake and even deleted photos of me off of Facebook, erased me so to speak.
Someone I know has two pastors visiting her, on their own initiative, offering help and welcome. I ask a pastor to help me and his was response, in part, was that he would need to decide if it would be worth the investment. It wasn't.
Hermit: 1. A person who has withdrawn from society and lives a solitary existence; a recluse.
2. A spiced cookie made with molasses, raisins, and nuts.
Which am I officially declaring myself to be?
2 comments:
Maybe I can try making the one version, so you can enjoy them in front of the fire while being the other version?
I love you, my dear friend. Sometimes I struggle saying those words for I think I shall never really understand what they mean, but I do love you.
It is nearly 16 years, right, this summer? Sixteen years that our Good Shepherd has poured out such riches of love and mercy and grace through you that I am staggered at times, that He would love me so much through you.
That you would love me, despite my struggles, and be such an unbelievably good friend in such grand ways and such small but even more significant ways.
When you do...make the hermits...maybe only have with nuts? I really do not like nuts in desserts! Well, sometimes, on very rare occasion, a peanut will fit.
:)
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