Learning to Live Generously

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Learning to Live Generously

I blew it. Yep, I blew it a little last week. I did not “think this, not that.” I thought things like, “That is really bothersome” and “I wish he wouldn’t do that” and “Will you quit bugging me?!?” A-hem. Not a great week for me. If you saw my list of grievances I know you too would think things like, “That is really bothersome” and “I wish he wouldn’t do that” and “Will you quit bugging me?!?” Honestly, I really had no choice. I mean, what could I possibly do when things like this were going on?

The Christmas tree lights did not turn on when we took the tree out of the box–clearly Glenn’s fault.
Mom asked if Emily Dickinson was my mother or grandmother. (Comment on my age perhaps?)
Glenn got home from a meeting late after stopping to pick up a Christmas present so that I wouldn’t have to.
I am ALWAYS too warm in this house. I NEVER have the clicker.

See what I mean?!? Clearly I had no choice but to be grouchy. And whiny. And generally unpleasant.

Or maybe not. Maybe I just plain blew it. In fact, I was the antithesis of grace and generosity. With that in mind, here are my new thoughts for this week:

1. I will hold myself to a standard of grace, not perfection. There are lots of opportunities for me to do the right thing–to live generously and gracefully–without regard for my situation or circumstances. Which means, there are also lots of opportunities for me to mess up. So I’m going to pat myself on the back when I get it right and take a deep breath and apologize when I don’t.

2. It’s all about perspective. That should maybe be a Nancy’s Truth. Whenever I am feeling truly sorry for myself, there are always others that have it so much harder than me. They face tougher challenges with less every day and do it with a smile. The week before I started school at APU, a hundred years ago, I was pretty miserable. I was hot. All the time. {Hello, Los Angeles. My poor little Portland body didn’t stand a chance!} and I had arrived early with Cathy who had to be there a week before me. The registration line lasted hours. And I was kind of miffed. Where were my parents? Why hadn’t they figured all of this out for me? They should have understood the intricacies of class selection and registration and told me that I could preregister and avoid this eternal line. Finally I started talking to the girl next to me in line. I mean, if you can’t strike up a conversation in a room of college freshmen you really have no conversational skills. It turns out that her housing was messed up. So she not only had to stand in this eternal line but also had to go to housing and find out if there would be, you know, ANYWHERE for her to stay that night. Suddenly my parents not forcing me to preregister seemed rather inconsequential. It was my first experience learning about how small I am and how big circumstances can be and how I should, you know, shut my mouth and quit whining.

So it’s a new week and I’m taking a deep breath and choosing to start fresh.

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