Though it had only been four days since I had started my new job, I got a beautiful Christmas present from the office. It is a beautiful but quite large Mikasa vase with our organization’s logo etched into one side. I say “quite large” because it must weigh as much as a crawling baby.
As I left for the day I took a bag with my vase in one hand and my purse in the other. But here’s the sad part: I couldn’t tell which was heavier.
There is a song, called “Inscription of Hope written by Z. Randall Stoope,” with lyrics inspired by words found etched in a cellar wall in Germany during World War II. These are the words:
I believe in the sun
Even when it is not shining
And I believe in love
even when there’s no one there
And I believe in God
Even when He is silent
I believe through any trial
There is always a way
But sometimes in this suffering
And hopeless despair
My heart cries for shelter
To know someone’s there
But a voice rises within me
Saying, “Hold on, my child
It seems there’s always some big hullabaloo or other surrounding celebrities. The media would have us believe that not only does the average citizen fawn over Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes’ baby or shake their head sadly over Britney Spears’ latest shenanigans, they do so with more than a passersby interest. They lead us to believe we need these celebrities in our daily lives.
I try to have no regrets in life. I think that’s a noble goal, and one most people probably strive toward as well. But aside from the kinds of regrets that aren’t life-changing (why did I date that boy, why did I speed in front of that cop), I do have one big regret that I would like to think has changed how I view other people and how I approach the world.
I have a window. Yes, I do. I am one of only 10 in my office to have one. Why, you ask? Because someone new needed a place to sit, and my cubicle was it. But why the upgrade? The reason that this valuable piece of office real estate hasn’t been snatched up yet is because the desk is about one-third the size of the other cubicles. That leaves me with barely enough room for my computer monitor and keyboard, my plant that hasn’t died yet (hooray!), and my phone. But no matter. This doesn’t bother me in the least. I have a view to lush, leafy trees and endless sky.
A while ago I got a funny e-mail. The subject line read, “Women Can Dream, Men Can Laugh.” It appears to be excerpts from a book full of pictures of rugged, handsome men putting the rest of the male population to shame by doing things women would kill for but seldom receive. I’m talking about household chores.
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