I sent this picture to a few of my favourite people. I said, ” what I want my heart to look like”. I found it SO interesting that that was my first thought when I looked at that picture. So my next question was, “What is it that you see when you look at this picture?” So from what I can see, here it is…
nothing is for show. someone entered the kitchen and took a picture because the sun rays were beaming in. the moment of stillness caught on film in a fraction of time. the brita drink container in its useful ugliness wasn’t even put away for a better shot.
it’s not fancy. nobody has tried to capture the perfection of pinterest in this kitchen. the drawers are melamine. the fabric under the sink is from a discount booth at a Walmart. but, in my heart, no “perfectly put together” and Italian marble could capture the essence of this kitchen.
all the things I love and matter to me are in this kitchen. sun rays. warmth. love of nature. comfort. sustenance. humility. beauty. safety. functionality. ease. and most of all, AUTHENTICITY. there’s also a beautiful aged chandelier adding a touch of glamour to the room.
So Yes, I want my heart to look like this kitchen on a summers day. The window is thrown open. Cats bask on the window sill. There’s onions ripening for a family dinner on the counter top. The unpretentious brita jug is in plain view. There’s a touch of glamour in the chandelier adding a touch of celebration to its function. a little indescript clock is marking time.
There’s a chair waiting in the dining nook for you, my friend.
I used to resent special treatment. I can hold my own door, thank you. The other day I had a change of heart. Two gentlemen stood on either side of the elevator and held it while I got on. Wow. Was my heart ever a puddle of love and respect for them. I wanted to reciprocate. Did it ever start a conversation in my head for the rest of the day. I queried. I introspected. I wondered. I understand the women that don’t want this. I used to see it as pandering. Thinking to myself, “Oh yeah, now what? My number? My address?”
Instead these men just kindly continued to discuss a deal they’re working on. They just were humbly doing what they felt good doing. That was holding the elevator for a woman.
I’d say their mamas raised them right.
Thank You to the men who just want to Do Right in their place in society. They crave the peace that comes from Nobility. From Dignity. From Being True Gentlemen.
On the Other Hand, I will Do My Best to Be a Lady. Kind. Virtuous. Discreet.
Here’s to Chivalrous Men. Here’s to Ladylike Women.
With Indignation. My Cheeks Redden. This is Not a Happy Post. But I am Compelled.
It’s a Memory Stirring My Heart. A Few Years Back I Nannied a Sweet Little Sheik Boy. His Dad a True Gentleman. A Pediatric Oncologist. His Precious Innocent Little Wife was a Radiologist.
She was taking Swimming Lessons for the First Time at 35. He Surprised her with a Speedo Bathing Suit. That Kind of Innocence. That Kind of Dream Marriage. That Kind of “Thank You for Blessing Our Country.” Kind of Perfection.
One Day the Lovely Woman Pulled me Aside. Tears Brimming Her Beautiful Soulful Brown Eyes.
“Jeannine, do I smell…?”…..Oh My Heart Breaks as I type this…
“No Darling, why do you ask?”
A Tear Spills Over…..”Because a lady at work says I smell…and that we should cook our curry in our garage so our clothes don’t smell….”
I Think she Felt my Heart Breaking. My Heart Broke. How can People Be so Unkind? How can we not be Gentle with each other? Do they not See Her? Little Mrs. First Time Swimming Lesson Innocence? Mrs. Silently Cry when she Leaves Her Precious Baby Every Day? Mrs. Tender Hearted Perfection?
Well if They Can’t, I Sure Will. Today and Everyday, No One is Mistreated By Me. Not On Purpose Anyway. No One Should Have to Bear My Moods. My Prejudices. My Unkind UnEvolved Soul.
It Started in the Heart and Mind. Think Peaceful Happy Thoughts. Kind Loving Thoughts. Then we won’t Need To Monitor Our Mouths.
Walking through the atrium to work yesterday, a Beautifully Dressed Man Broadly Smiled at Me. Touched To My Core by Its Genuine, I Smiled Back. Walking a Few Steps Away, I heard him start to Cheerfully Whistle a Contemporary Hymn. It Reverberated off the Granite Walls of the Atrium. My Eyes Filled with Happy Tears as My Steps Slowed. My Heart Melted.
The Hymn my Children used to Sing when they were Little at Assemblies …
“Bless the Lord, Oh My Soul…Oh My Soul, Worship His Holy Name…Sing Like Never Before, Oh My Soul, Worship His Holy Name…
I Stayed with my Back to Him, My Footsteps had Stopped. There was a Moment of Stillness in that Atrium. I will Remember That Moment til My Last Breath. I Don’t Know Who He is, But He Has My Honour. My Respect. My Gratitude.
I Felt Touched By an Angel…in a Beautifully Tailored Suit and a Broad Grin.
My Apologies to All Wonderful Genevieves in the World.
Yesterday my Beautiful Daughter Grace said, ” Mom, your Genevieve is Out.” As much as it made me Cry Tears of Laughter, I don’t Like Genevieve. She’s an Alter Ego of mine. Or maybe it’s just Ego. My Ego.
My Kids have a Name for Her. She’s Pretentious. Judgmental. Quick to Offense. She even holds her purse a Certain way. Clasping her hands at her upper chest. Her nose is even slightly higher than normal. She’s Impatient. Superficial. She’s Really Rather Ridiculous.
I’ve Learned to Laugh at Her. Quickly Usher her to where she Belongs. Under the Control of Spirit. I only Like Myself under the wonderful control of the Spirit. Gentle. Happy. Supportive. Kind. Longsuffering.
I love that Genevieve Never Goes Away. She’s always there reminding me of My Potential to Be Kinda Awful. To Humble Myself to the Control of the Spirit.
Labouring to always make sure Genevieve stays working the Broom Closet for the Rest of my Days. She’s One Pompous Jerk.