People I Admire… 35

I had an entirely different blog post scheduled for this morning. However, after I re-read a friend’s email, something occurred to me.

I have never made friends easily. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been withdrawn and aloof.

• Maybe it was because we moved so much and I figured out really fast that I needn’t bother making friends because I’d lose them in six months.
• Maybe it was because I could barely SEE or HEAR anyone. I wore glasses when I was five, and had ear problems ever since birth.
• Maybe it was just because I was the youngest and shyest in a family of garrulous people. Even my mother, who was an artist, surrounded herself by forever chatting, intrusive women.

Really, my shy little self hardly stood a chance.

Fast forward into teenage-hood and my problems only magnified. Add to this the fact that we were forever moving, and you have me – solitary and constantly ridiculed (even by my family) for having my nose always in a book.

I’ve had spurts of being outwardly focused, but for the majority of my life, I’ve been an inward creature, which brings me to the point of this post.

I admire people who easily make friends.

• They have an acceptance of themselves that, until the last few years, I’ve lacked.
• They effortlessly extend themselves in faith that they won’t be rejected or, if they are, they possess the knowledge that they can withstand it.
• They are generous and giving in both themselves, their histories, and their emotions.
• They probably never consciously think about the effort it takes to make a friend from a stranger.

Being around people who make friends easily has taught me so much:

• Being afraid of rejection is a self-fulfilling prophecy. You’re afraid of it, you create it.
• You will never feel a handshake if you don’t extend your hand.
• The world is a better place with friends.

How about you? Do you make friends easily? Or, are you like me, still learning how?

The Full Measure of Devotion 12

The other night, I was watching A Grateful Nation, a program featuring patriotic songs performed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and the US Air Force Reserve Band. The narrator mentioned the Gettysburg Address, where Lincoln said:

“It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

The narrator commented that hundreds of thousands of men and women have given their full measure of devotion and that we should as well, in our daily lives.

I thought the point was important. What, then, is my full measure of devotion, without, of course, going to war and dying for my country?

To be a good citizen, for one. To obey the law, to petition my government for grievances if I don’t agree with that law. To know the documents that founded my country. To be aware of my country’s history. To vote in each election. To be an informed voter.

It’s no secret that I’m an Americanophile. I think I’m privileged to have been born in the greatest country in the world’s history. As a young woman, growing up all over the world, I was often approached by people who desperately wanted to come to America. I grew familiar with the request – “Tell me about your country.”

Joining the Navy when I was 17 (and requiring special permission to do so) was a natural progression of that deep love of country. Hearing the song Anchors Aweigh brought back memories of my graduation from boot camp, when we marched and sang. The surge of patriotism I felt then came back to me the other night.

I’ve had the opportunity to walk through Arlington National Cemetery and other military cemeteries. I’ve always been silenced by the sight of so many graves. They truly did give their full measure of devotion.

I’m going to be thinking of what that means for me as a citizen.

What are your ideas?

My 3 Step Program 20

Remember this saying? -  success has many fathers while failure is an orphan.

Failure, in my life, has many siblings.

For some odd reason, I tend to remember the lessons I’ve learned from my mistakes better than the ones I’ve learned from my successes. The lessons are etched in my mind, and they whisper to me – “Don’t do that.”

I have, over the years, been able to separate my mistakes from my ego – as the result of having made so many mistakes, I suspect. I no longer take them so personally.

I’ve developed a way to handle my mistakes. Here’s my three-step program:

1. Admit I made a mistake. (Not that hard when I’m faced with a Woody Woodpecker haircut or bright green nails.)

2. Admit that nobody made me do this. (It was all my fault, and my responsibility.)

3. Ask myself this important question: What have I learned? (Not to get this haircut and don’t be so daring in nail color, please.)

How do you handle mistakes and turn them into constructive lessons?