|Courtesy of Rosalind Wiseman, Creating Cultures of Dignity|
Sunday is precious. It is a lonely day. It is a day for tears. When I was growing up, yet old enough to wish for things, people, a family, that I didn't have, Sunday was a day of sadness and tears and fantasy. I had a family (for whom I am grateful, and love), but they weren't the Brady Bunch, Father Knows Best, or The Waltons, and I wasn't Shirley Temple. I wasn't Shirley Temple.
Today is Sunday. Today is still for tears, but not for me. Today I weep for joy that I have today. Today I weep for Precious, C. Precious Jones. What is that movie supposed to be about? I see so many things in Precious and in her life, but I will never really see. When asked to list my strengths on applications and such writings, I've learned that I am tenacious, perseverant. I admire that I've been able, that I've been optimistic, that I've turned all the "nos" into "yes'". Today, I know nothing about it at all, and I will never again be "proud" of my tenacity and perseverance; because there are people in this world, even in today's "enlightened" society, that REALLY know what it's like to be Precious.
Today is Sunday. Today I am 49-years-and-one-day old. I spent my birthday not alone, but with people who matter, and people who made me matter. I could be disappointed in the lack of faces that are friends, but I am not because I am blessed.
I am blessed to have been loved by more than 100 friends and family on Facebook, each of them I know, have a memory of, and an association with. They are all REAL friends, not just collected clicks.
I am blessed to have met new people, who didn't know me before and who made me count in their life; they are precious. I am blessed to have people tell me not just that I am loved by them, but why I am loved. I literally heard the words, "I'm so lucky to have you in my life."
Two years ago I gave that same person a gift of words on her birthday; now I know, with her return of that gift, how important our words are, and how important we do not know we are in the lives we encounter. We just might be the last hope for the people we meet; treat everyone with heart and sincerity. Everyone is Precious, and everyone is precious. EVERY ONE!
It is so much easier to separate the bad from the good than it is to see the good in the bad, than it is to believe that everyone is good. When I see such evil deeds in this world, how can I say those horrible deeds were committed by anything but trash?
It is so hard not to choose a side. But when you hear the story of the abuser, and hear that they too are victims, it is a little bit easier to reconcile that good people do bad things, not because they are bad, but because they too are Precious; Precious Jones, Precious Jones' Mother, Precious Jones' Grandmother, and yes, probably Precious Jones' Father too.
The challenge in life is to find balance in the "imbalance". The challenge is not just to see the good inherent in the people and acts that are bad, but to know what to do with that knowledge, those observations. The challenge is to observe your reaction, your thoughts and the feelings, physical and emotional, when you let these circumstance, and the people in them, real or cinematic, into your being.
Can you go beyond yelling at Precious to "Kill that bitch", and listen to the story of the bitch? Can you listen to the story of the bitch, and reserve, better yet reject, judgement? Should you allow yourself to do nothing, should you demand someone to do something about this injustice and victimization? And if you do something, are you committed to continuing until you get to the seed that started it all, and will you be able to deal with the horrific discovery, the despair and hopelessness that you feel when you realize there IS NO END? Or do we simply move forward and choose to whom we give our heart, compassion and forgiveness?
None of the above. It takes one thing. Sight. A victim must see the truth, on their own, and make a decision, without falter or doubt, what is to be their strength; to make a decision that they are Precious.
I made myself a necklace for my birthday last year. I think I'll do it every year; I made another, with matching earrings, this week. I created drops from antiqued copper chain, hand hammered rings of copper, my lampwork beads, and red metallic wire wraps for dangles of banded agate, coral, Czech faceted purple coral glass beads, and Swarovski crystals.