What I don't know

I'm not sure what year on the calendar I crossed off, but it was one year in the recent past.

And, each year that I cross off, I'm realizing this fact more and more.

I don't know much.

I mean, I do know quite a bit, like how to cook meatloaf,

how to get stains off my favorite shirt,

how to knit a simple dishcloth.

But, I'm realizing there's so much more that I don't know.

I don't know what's caused your pain.
I haven't walked in your shoes.

I haven't been steeped in another culture enough to really feel what it's like to be sunk in to it.

I know I can't will myself out of an emotional pit.

And, sometimes I need help seeing the light at the top.

When I finish my race, the course that was mapped out before I saw light of day,

what will they say about who I was?

What kind of personal legacy will I have left behind?

Ultimately it doesn't matter what people say about us.

But, I care deeply about leaving a legacy.

A legacy of...

truth

love

loyalty.

I don't claim to know much, but I know the older I get, the more I don't know.

How about you?



Blessings to you, friend!

~Anne

linking up (a little late) over at Lisa Jo Baker's blog for Five Minute Friday. Writers who love to write link up every Friday to silence the inner critic and write for five minutes. Not worrying about edits or backtracking. This week's prompt is "finish".

On finishing well

I'm linking up with Holley Gerth today for Coffee for Your Heart, and also over at Beth's for Three Word Wednesday. Blessings on your Wednesday!



She's shown up for all seven small group times in a row. She doesn't live too far from the church, but the winter has not been friendly to drivers here in Iowa the past few weeks. This hasn't stopped her.

She steps into each group meeting with a charcoal gray Columbia coat, and fashionable black knee high boots.

And, she must be about eighty years young.

I wish I could have heard her whole story. You see, she always wore a smile and a certain dignity about her, even though there had been pain.

One of the pieces of her story contained a broken relationship.

She didn't leave it there. 

She pursed the brother who in his 70's hadn't spoken to her in decades. 

She offered him forgiveness and healing where there had been years of pain and alienation.

Where the bridge had been washed out but good, she built a new one.
She planted seeds of forgiveness and empathy in the garden of their relationship, and watered those with large buckets of understanding.

I could see the results of this forgiving and repairing and mending work in her eyes as she spoke.

I could see the peace that the courage to face her fears had brought her.

She wears the peace well.

I see no retirement here. 

I see no "sit-on-my-porch-and-rock-my-life-away" mentality.

She's vibrant, sparkling and very much alive. 

I want to be like her now.
I want to be like her then, in thirty years.

It's made me ask myself,

"How can I finish the race like she's finishing?"

Faith more than intact.
Forgiveness flourishing.
Peace like a river.
Joy bubbling over.
A burning desire to influence others and make a difference.

Thirty years from now, I want to be the sparkling woman who walks into the room bringing peace, joy and a wisdom beyond my years.

I want to be influencing.

I want to be living with passionate purpose.

I want to leave a legacy of beauty and hope for those who have crossed my path.

I'm sure when Nadine entered the room that first night of group, she had no idea that I would be sitting there. She didn't know that for seven straight weeks I would be watching her and hearing her and taking mental heart notes.

It was a very small thing, her deciding to attend the same group as I. But, her decision has made a lasting impression on me.

Thank you, Nadine.