The Fallacy of "You Deserve It"

It stopped me short. "Happy for you. You deserve it," the text said.  It sounded like a greeting card.  "No I don't," my mind replied.  Then my fingers followed suit. The greeting card text was an answer from a good friend after I had texted her about my upcoming travel plans. It's out of context and there's a lot of other factors playing into this interaction, but it brought me to another epiphany. (I've been having a lot of them lately, by the way.  Is this a 40's thing?  This epiphany thing?)

I digress. Anyhoo... I'm here to tell you. Stop doing things because you deserve it. If you use the reward system for everything you do, you're limiting yourself.  Not only are you limiting the (in number and variety) experiences you can have, but you're limiting yourself from enjoying even the simplest of life's pleasures. Unless, of course, you're a narcissist and believe you deserve everything. You don't have to have the permission derived from "I deserve it" to enjoy life. Guilt is a constant companion to only doing things because you deserve it. Because. What if you don't deserve it? Then what? See how crippling this practice is to full enjoyment of life?  Stop it. Guilt limits.

Do it because you want to.  Do it because you need to.  Do it because you're afraid to.  Do it because someone needs you to.  Do it because someone asks you to.  But don't ever, ever do it because you deserve to.

Freedom comes from simply enjoying the windfalls that come your way, not because you deserve it, but because they happened.  And because you made them happen. And because others made them happen for you. No justification needed. No strings attached.

"Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

#FollowYourFeather

The feather came with the suitcase I bought this weekend. I liked and planned to buy the suitcase before I saw the feather. But the feather? It sealed the deal. You see. It parallels my recent thought pattern about "following my feather". The nice thing about a feather is its mobility. Its ability to be shifted by small or large gusts of wind. To be redirected at any given moment to somewhere it was not originally headed. Near or far. Its ability to settle on something in moments of calm until the wind decides it's time to move again. Its a ability to float on something as shifty as a breeze or the water. Its ability to be found. The thing with my life is that I truly believe God is ultimately directing it. I like thinking that in just a moment He can blow my feather any direction He pleases. He has not disappointed me yet. And so. I am happy with my new focus. To follow my feather. Each day is a beautiful, wonderful adventure. #followyourfeather

How We'll Remember Him

How We'll Remember Him - Easter 2011

"A genuine and gregarious man, Al's spirit was always reflected in his optimistic attitude."

One of my favorite memories of Uncle Al will come from observation. We went to visit him when we returned from Florida this year. It just so happened that an unfortunate bout with a blood infection had landed him in the hospital. He was medicated and sleeping soundly when we arrived. They were making arrangements to move him one floor up with the hopes that it would be "quieter" for him there. At some point, he opened his eyes and they fairly danced when he saw his room full of family. The delight was genuine and came out in a breathy exclamation before he drifted back to sleep again. Maybe a half an hour later he had woke up again and a nurse came in to tell him the news. "Al, we're moving you to room 391." He mustered up all his strength and exclaimed a "Oh! My favorite room!" before sighing and settling back into his pillows again with his Uncle Al smile. It was teasing. It was optimism. It was acceptance. It was thankfulness. It was a genuine response. That was the essence of who he was. He was a good steward of what God had given him, he took care of others, and then when it was his turn to receive help, he made it easy to be his caregivers. We will miss you, our dearest, Uncle Al. Life won't be the same without you.