However, Loy, not so much.
See, I came home with all these questions and sprung them on him so he can have the same joy that I felt at these thoughtful, insightful, interesting questions. They are very abstract and, alas, my poor hubby doesn't deal with abstract. He wants quantitative numbers. He wants a "yes" or "no" answer. He wants there to be a right and wrong answer, none of this "It's about you, so just answer as you feel." To him, my questions are a bunch of malarky.
"What most inspires you?"
"What typically keeps you stuck, or blocks you from being your best self?"
Think back on a time when you were having the most fun, felt most alive--what were you doing?"
"If you woke up tomorrow and your life was awesome, what would that look like?"
Turns out...he hates these questions. (No offense to Professor Borchardt!) So, I either have to learn to keep my questions to myself or drop out of school.
There are 17 of us students, 2 of them are men who are close to my age. Then there are the sweet little girls. They are so darned nice--but they were talking about turning 21 last week!!! I went in there with trepidation and they put me at ease. They listened to my answers and made me feel like I was significant. They used my name. I could learn a lot from these little girls!
Yesterday I wrote a reflection paper on "Happiness." Is there really a difference between happiness, cheerfulness, and joy? Is happiness something all people deserve? Should that be a goal--to be happy? Are there things I can do to make myself more happy? (Turns out, there are things you can do!!)
As part of my class grade I have to journal--something that has not been too terribly hard for me. Today I was supposed to ponder, then journal about scars. Yep. Scars.
What are the characteristics of scars?
- they are big or small, depending on the level of injury
- they are a result of an injury or trauma
- they can look different from person to person, or injury to injury
- they are noticeable
- they have no feeling--but hurt while I was getting them
- they look red and angry at first, then kind of mellow out and change to white--or at least less red
- they indicate that healing has occurred
- they are a reminder of the hard things I (or you) have been through
- they can signal VICTORY!!
- they show that I am human--I don't have to strive for perfection and that's ok
- they can differentiate me from someone else (someone can look like me, but will never have the same scars as I do
After having a bilateral mastectomy, two different port placements, and three different lymph node biopsies, I am definitely scarred. And they are not pretty scars (is there such a thing?)
When I start to become obsessed about my imperfections I need to remember that they are markers--reminders that life is fragile and that I made it through the hard time. Remember how, in the Bible God is always telling people to build the altars after a battle? Those were to remind the people of what God did in that place. What if I thought of my scars as something to remind me that God is there...that God carried me through...that God is bigger than anything life can throw at me.
I need to realize that I will never be the same as who and what I was. I made it through. That experience, though tougher than tough, made me who I am today. I didn't want that experience, it was extremely painful, both emotionally and physically. It was the toughest thing I have ever had to do (TWICE). I was pretty sure that there was no reason this could be a good thing.
But now, on the other side, I can say that God and I made it. That I am changed. Forever.
I'd better go for now. I have to write a paper talking about the Gallup StrengthsFinder survey I just took. (In case you're wondering, my #1 strength is Communication. Go figure that one!)
Love,
Kitt.
