I turned 52 today. It feels good to be 52. I used to think 52 was old. Now I think it’s young—because that’s how I feel. Young.
I want to run through fields of daisies. I want to climb more mountains and be amazed when I reach the top. I want to kayak through the San Juan Islands in my sporty yellow Eddyline, paddling effortlessly while whales shoot water from their spouts, so close I can almost touch them. I want to reach out to more people with empowering and encouraging words. The world has so much angst; could I possibly be a bright light? I want to love more (my heart is big). Laugh more (Is that possible?). And I want to actually prepare a recipe from the pages of Bon Appetite.
It’s going to be a busy year.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Waiting
I have never been very good at waiting. I like things to happen—now! Push a button, change the channel, problem solved. I was reminded of just how unaccustomed I was to waiting when our internet suddenly stopped working and could not be fixed for several days. Several long days.
My folks’ generation was used to waiting. During the depression they waited in lines for rationing coupons, sugar and tires. Mom waited forever to save enough money for a new dress or a precious pair of nylons. My dad waited patiently for our family crops to grow.
My folks spent a lot of time waiting. It was just what they did.
With little complaint.
So what makes me think I need everything …now? Well, it’s a new era. Technology has spoiled us with nearly instantaneous everything: movies, access to any expert or information, instant cash or credit, directions, good books, hot meals…all are just a button or click away.
Except, of course, for the internet problem. I couldn’t solve it with a click of a button and neither could the experts. So what did I do? I waited. And you know what? I survived. It didn’t hurt me one bit to have to wait a few days to check my email. The world wide web didn’t cave in without me.
And the truth is you simply need to wait for some things, like maturity, friends, family and coworkers, your hair to grow, a zit to dry up and disappear, security lines at the airport, a green light.
Sometimes you even have to wait for love. Believe me, I know. I waited 48 years. And it was worth every moment. Maybe waiting isn’t so bad after all.
After all, waiting builds patience, character, courage, gratitude, faith and so much more. Waiting for the things we think should be instantaneous gives us time to do the things we think we don’t have time for, like writing a personal thank you note or cleaning out the closet. And, as they say, good things come to those who wait (my husband is living proof of that!).
So I am going to try to be more patient, to appreciate the process as much as the end results. In fact, I can hardly WAIT to get started!
Patiently,
Cheryl
My folks’ generation was used to waiting. During the depression they waited in lines for rationing coupons, sugar and tires. Mom waited forever to save enough money for a new dress or a precious pair of nylons. My dad waited patiently for our family crops to grow.
My folks spent a lot of time waiting. It was just what they did.
With little complaint.
So what makes me think I need everything …now? Well, it’s a new era. Technology has spoiled us with nearly instantaneous everything: movies, access to any expert or information, instant cash or credit, directions, good books, hot meals…all are just a button or click away.
Except, of course, for the internet problem. I couldn’t solve it with a click of a button and neither could the experts. So what did I do? I waited. And you know what? I survived. It didn’t hurt me one bit to have to wait a few days to check my email. The world wide web didn’t cave in without me.
And the truth is you simply need to wait for some things, like maturity, friends, family and coworkers, your hair to grow, a zit to dry up and disappear, security lines at the airport, a green light.
Sometimes you even have to wait for love. Believe me, I know. I waited 48 years. And it was worth every moment. Maybe waiting isn’t so bad after all.
After all, waiting builds patience, character, courage, gratitude, faith and so much more. Waiting for the things we think should be instantaneous gives us time to do the things we think we don’t have time for, like writing a personal thank you note or cleaning out the closet. And, as they say, good things come to those who wait (my husband is living proof of that!).
So I am going to try to be more patient, to appreciate the process as much as the end results. In fact, I can hardly WAIT to get started!
Patiently,
Cheryl
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Full Circle
Customers, neighbors, vendors, and friends, they’re all chiming the same words. “Cheryl, you’ve come full circle. How does it feel?”
Scary, thrilling, exciting, overwhelming—all at the same time. Really.
I didn’t mean for this to happen. I simply couldn’t help myself. OMG, maybe it is true. Do I have an addiction—to creating and operating pretty stores?
A couple of weeks ago, I opened the doors to my publishing company’s first ever retail store, Gently Spoken, on Anoka’s historic Main Street. But it’s not like I’m new to the neighborhood. This is the fifth location I’ve operated a retail store in—within the same block, in the same city, during the past 16 years.
What could have ever inspired me to do it all over again, especially considering the current state of the economy? Earlier this summer while reading a book called The Reluctant Tuscan by Phil Doran, I had a revelation (great book, by the way). Just as the author discovered the beauty of being part of a small Tuscan village where people knew his name, cared about him and his wife, laughed and cried tears with him, I, too, yearned once again to be part of something larger than myself. I needed people.
One by one they’re trickling in.
And they’re giddy and I’m giddy. It’s like an all day, every day high school reunion. Connecting with my old customers is a thrill. They want to hear about my life: where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing, and did I really get married? To be frank, I don’t want to talk about me. Life has been great! I want to hear their stories. It’s been five years since I sold my two former stores and I have a lot of catching up to do. Did Sally ever complete her MBA? Did Debbie finally leave a job she loathed? Did Becky and Allen ever sell their company and spend a year sailing the world? Is Cathy’s MS still in remission?
For many years “we,” my customers and I, were so closely connected: growing, becoming, imagining and dreaming together. I missed them immensely. I yearned to hear their voices and their stories.
So here I am, listening once again. Dreams have been dashed and realized. Lives and careers have been reinvented. Faith has been challenged. Faith has grown. Teen kids grew up and even survived, and so did their parents! Grandkids were born and brought much joy. Hearts have been broken. New love abounds! Life is, after all, a circle.
And it’s so good to be home.
Ever grateful,
Cheryl
Scary, thrilling, exciting, overwhelming—all at the same time. Really.
I didn’t mean for this to happen. I simply couldn’t help myself. OMG, maybe it is true. Do I have an addiction—to creating and operating pretty stores?
A couple of weeks ago, I opened the doors to my publishing company’s first ever retail store, Gently Spoken, on Anoka’s historic Main Street. But it’s not like I’m new to the neighborhood. This is the fifth location I’ve operated a retail store in—within the same block, in the same city, during the past 16 years.
What could have ever inspired me to do it all over again, especially considering the current state of the economy? Earlier this summer while reading a book called The Reluctant Tuscan by Phil Doran, I had a revelation (great book, by the way). Just as the author discovered the beauty of being part of a small Tuscan village where people knew his name, cared about him and his wife, laughed and cried tears with him, I, too, yearned once again to be part of something larger than myself. I needed people.
One by one they’re trickling in.
And they’re giddy and I’m giddy. It’s like an all day, every day high school reunion. Connecting with my old customers is a thrill. They want to hear about my life: where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing, and did I really get married? To be frank, I don’t want to talk about me. Life has been great! I want to hear their stories. It’s been five years since I sold my two former stores and I have a lot of catching up to do. Did Sally ever complete her MBA? Did Debbie finally leave a job she loathed? Did Becky and Allen ever sell their company and spend a year sailing the world? Is Cathy’s MS still in remission?
For many years “we,” my customers and I, were so closely connected: growing, becoming, imagining and dreaming together. I missed them immensely. I yearned to hear their voices and their stories.
So here I am, listening once again. Dreams have been dashed and realized. Lives and careers have been reinvented. Faith has been challenged. Faith has grown. Teen kids grew up and even survived, and so did their parents! Grandkids were born and brought much joy. Hearts have been broken. New love abounds! Life is, after all, a circle.
And it’s so good to be home.
Ever grateful,
Cheryl
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