I decided to join Facebook on a sunny, spring morning after turning my nose up at the social networking platform for months. I was a hardcore Twitter girl. I don’t remember why I changed my mind, but I did.
One of the first people I connected—or rather reconnected—with was my friend Julie. I met Julie in my first year of junior high. We were 12 years old and became good friends. We stayed that way until high school graduation, when life took us in different directions. But I thought of her often and hoped she was well.
We quickly made up for lost time via Facebook. I learned what she’d done in the almost 20 years since graduation. I looked at photos of her family. Soon, it was like no time had passed at all.
However, I was surprised to find myself inspired by Julie. Every morning, she would rave about what a beautiful day it was and wish everyone good morning. She would come home from work and wish everyone a good evening. She’d find five minutes to tell everyone good night.
Julie has bad days, like we all do. The difference is she doesn’t let them hold her back. Her morning may not have been the best, but the afternoon is going to be better. She gets tired, but she’s grateful for the job that allows her to take care of her husband and daughters. If she has trouble sleeping, then she’s grateful for the extra time allowed in the morning for a walk in the countryside. Julie takes life’s lemons and really does turn them into lemonade.
I look forward to Julie’s Facebook posts and messages because they are reminders that life is a blessing, even when it throws everything it possibly can at you. I’m grateful that, almost 25 years after we met (!), I can still call her my friend.
A couple of months ago, Julie posted a note on her Facebook page titled “The Positive Side of Me.” The last two paragraphs moved me:
“Everyday, EVERY person in this world wakes up with a decision to make... be happy and feel blessed with what you have or be pissy and complain about what you don't have... I refuse to complain... It took me years to realize that I have exactly what I NEED: Love, security, a home, a job, and THE best family a person can ask for...
“So each day when you wake up, ask yourself how your day will be... Only YOU make that decision. Only YOU decide how you will live your life...”
I want to live my life like Julie: full of gratitude and counting my blessings while being a good friend.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Love Letters
I recently read an article in Vanity Fair about the “Romance of the Century” between Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. The article is an excerpt from a new book about the romance and marriages between the two actors.
The article touched on the already well-known facts about the two: they met on the set of Cleopatra, had an affair and were eventually married twice. But what stood out for me—even more than the large jewels that Burton frequently bestowed upon Taylor—was the fact that he wrote her love letters. She shared them with the authors of the article/book, and they quote from them extensively.
The letters are beautiful and passionate. Burton needed no special occasion to write them. In fact, he wrote one letter while Taylor was asleep in the next room. In the letter, he writes “I have decided that for a second or two, the precious potential of you in the next room is the only thing in the world worth living for.”
Reading this article made me wonder: do people even write love letters anymore? In a world of texts, emails, tweets and Facebook posts, is there room for an old fashioned love letter? I’d like to think so.
Among my most prized possessions are love letters my grandfather wrote to my grandmother. He died when I was six, and my grandmother never really talked about him. When she died, she left the letters to me, with a note asking me to treasure them as she did. I am grateful to her because these letters gave me a chance to get to know both my grandfather and the love they shared. My favorite is the one in which he wrote about a baby on the way. That baby was my mother.
According to the Vanity Fair article, Burton even wrote Taylor a letter a few hours before he died. The article stated she would not allow the authors to have a copy of that letter. Instead, she read it to them. She received it the day she arrived home from his memorial service, and it has remained in a dresser drawer next to her bed since.
That’s love.
The article touched on the already well-known facts about the two: they met on the set of Cleopatra, had an affair and were eventually married twice. But what stood out for me—even more than the large jewels that Burton frequently bestowed upon Taylor—was the fact that he wrote her love letters. She shared them with the authors of the article/book, and they quote from them extensively.
The letters are beautiful and passionate. Burton needed no special occasion to write them. In fact, he wrote one letter while Taylor was asleep in the next room. In the letter, he writes “I have decided that for a second or two, the precious potential of you in the next room is the only thing in the world worth living for.”
Reading this article made me wonder: do people even write love letters anymore? In a world of texts, emails, tweets and Facebook posts, is there room for an old fashioned love letter? I’d like to think so.
Among my most prized possessions are love letters my grandfather wrote to my grandmother. He died when I was six, and my grandmother never really talked about him. When she died, she left the letters to me, with a note asking me to treasure them as she did. I am grateful to her because these letters gave me a chance to get to know both my grandfather and the love they shared. My favorite is the one in which he wrote about a baby on the way. That baby was my mother.
According to the Vanity Fair article, Burton even wrote Taylor a letter a few hours before he died. The article stated she would not allow the authors to have a copy of that letter. Instead, she read it to them. She received it the day she arrived home from his memorial service, and it has remained in a dresser drawer next to her bed since.
That’s love.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
What is Good?
One of my goals is to be a good person, so I spend a lot of my time thinking about what that means.
Good is a simple word, yet is has several different meanings: of a favorable character; bountiful; attractive; pleasant; kind . . . and that’s just a start. But do any of these meanings fit my view of what is a good person?
Being a good person means being the kind of friend I would want to have: loyal, caring, unselfish, giving. The person who is always there. The one who never judges, even when you do something incredibly stupid. Someone who follows the “golden rule.”
A good person accepts you for you, both the good and the bad. A good person is honest, but with tact. The intent is to be a clear communicator, not to hurt someone else.
A good person sees the beauty in the world and practices random acts of kindness. A good person forgives others and asks for forgiveness of themselves. A good person loves unconditionally, yet asks for nothing in return.
Some days I hit the mark. Others I fail miserably. I might come close on others. But I won’t stop trying.
Good is a simple word, yet is has several different meanings: of a favorable character; bountiful; attractive; pleasant; kind . . . and that’s just a start. But do any of these meanings fit my view of what is a good person?
Being a good person means being the kind of friend I would want to have: loyal, caring, unselfish, giving. The person who is always there. The one who never judges, even when you do something incredibly stupid. Someone who follows the “golden rule.”
A good person accepts you for you, both the good and the bad. A good person is honest, but with tact. The intent is to be a clear communicator, not to hurt someone else.
A good person sees the beauty in the world and practices random acts of kindness. A good person forgives others and asks for forgiveness of themselves. A good person loves unconditionally, yet asks for nothing in return.
Some days I hit the mark. Others I fail miserably. I might come close on others. But I won’t stop trying.
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