Comparisons

I watched the cutest piece the other day showing groups of kids freestyle dancing.  That always makes me smile.  That clip was followed by a commercial showing a design rehabber and construction guru looking fit beyond words, driving a back-hoe.  Changing channels found a home-cook turned tv chef talking about a delicious Thanksgiving dish his family loves.  A few channels later the screen was filled with a DIY-er sharing simple yet beautiful home improvement projects.  Then landscape artists.  Swimmers gliding across the pool filled the screen next.  Then an unplugged concert by a pianist with a beautiful voice.  There were more channels, too, full of talents and gifts and knowledge.

Sounds like a pretty typical weekend morning, right?  Well, at least for me it is.  It's a nice treat to get up and be able to couch it for a little bit before beginning the day, which is vastly different from weekday mornings.

I hadn't realized it before that morning how much I *still* want to be someone I'm not.

I wish I could dance.  It looks like fun, despite the fact that I tend to trip over my own feet.  I wish I knew how to design and build and woodwork - I loved it as a kid, but now?  I value my fingers, thank you very much.  Cooking?  Yeah, right.  Home decorating?  I wish.  My house looks almost exactly the same as it did when I moved in ten years ago.  Landscaping?  Heck, I wish I could keep a plant alive or grow some herbs and veggies, much less put the pond into the yard that I've wanted to do since childhood.  And I still kick myself for quitting music lessons when I was a kid.  I'm envious of those who can play an instrument, it sounds so beautiful.  Throw in singing, too?  You've got me.  I'm turning green on the inside.  And not a day goes by that I don't miss the athletics I used to participate in on a regular basis.

I have my own gifts and talents.  I know that.  My therapist reminds me of them fairly regularly, too, as I often forget that I do have things to offer the world.  I see the talents of others to be much more valuable than my own.  Instead, I see myself as too clumsy to dance, to weak to do anything requiring sustained physical exertion, as far from a homemaker as possible, too lazy to pick up any athletics, and when it comes to music?  I see myself as selfish for quitting lessons as a child.

Sounds pretty grim, I know.  So is the work I'm doing to change that.  Cause you know what?  One of these days, I'm going to feel good enough.

I'm going to feel good enough.

I'm going to feel like my gifts and talents are good enough offerings for the world.  More than that, I'm going to feel like I'm valuable, just as I am.

Day 13: A Public Apology

Dear World,

I want to apologize for my behavior when it comes to saying thank you.  More specifically, when it comes to writing thank you notes.

I suck at them.  I suck at them because I am so overwhelmed with gratitude upon receiving any gifts, that I am truly at a loss of words to appropriately express my appreciation for said gift - whatever it may be.  I push myself to attempt to write individual thank you notes to each person, and end up a mess of frustrating tears because it doesn't feel my words are able to convey my true appreciation.

It may sound like a lame excuse, but this began way back when I was a teen, and has been a life-long struggle.  I owe thank you notes for graduation presents, for housewarming gifts, and for gifts from students long ago received and still very much valued and appreciated.  Know that oftentimes, gifts sit unused for months, with the promise that I'll enjoy the gift once I've sent a thank you note.  And they sit, mocking me for months, until I finally crumble.

So if you've given me anything over the years, and you didn't get a formal thank you note, please know that I do so very, very much thank you for the gifts and the thoughts, and while I might never find the words to express my gratitude appropriately, my thanks is truly heartfelt.

Respectfully,
Violet

Day 13 Prompt: Issue a public apology. This can be as funny or as serious or as creative as you want it to be.

Week 37: Most Meaningful Gift I've Received

I'm going to take two perspectives on this one, too.  Cause there are at least two angles in which to view this prompt, at least as I see it!

First, the literal version.  The most meaningful gift I've received came from my students.  It actually came in three, no, four parts.  The first part was the gift my principal gave me in letting me loop up a grade with my entire class.  Yep.  Two years.  Same classroom.  Same kids.  Same families.  Ah-may-zing.  The final three parts of that gift came the last week of school.  The parents put together a few things that had me bawling.

For starters, the class made me a giant card.  We're talking GIANT.  Two poster boards.  They decorated it, wrote their favorite memories from the years, and signed it.  It is safely tucked away and I'll likely keep it forever.  The second part of the gift was an incredible step stool.  The sentiments on it talks about helping them "step up" into the next grade.  It is decorated so sweetly, with their fingerprints turned into animals, and their favorite sayings from our time together.  The last gift, was tucked away into the stool (which lives in my bedroom as a foot stool!)  It was a book.  It was no ordinary book.  It was a hard cover, dust jacked, photo book of our two years together.  Each child had a two page spread with pictures of them both in and out of school during our time together, along with a favorite memory or thought.  The last two pages in the book contain a note from each student.... I can't read that book without bawling....

Now, the not-so-literal version.

The most meaningful gift I've been given is the gift of reflection and connection.  Because of who I am, and my life, I, somehow, have a very easy time connecting with my students.  They comment that I understand them, I get them, and I just know how to make things work for them.  Which I guess, is true?  I don't quite know what it is that I do in the classroom, because a lot of it comes automatically, but somehow, I manage to connect with each of my students throughout the year and help make them feel special.  I think that gift comes via the gift of reflection.  I'm uber reflective, often to a fault.  I ponder and ponder until I have analyzed and journaled about everything.  I think that it's in that reflection process that I find ways to connect with my students.  Maybe?

Gifts.  Literal and figurative.  I still prefer to give them than receive them!