Over lunch today I explained to a company v.p. that my blog spoke about a dream I have, but that I wasn't quitting. She hadn't read it yet, but since she's a pal I know that she does read this every now and then. Decided I didn't want anyone here to write me off as a lost cause.
I'm still a little shocked about how much my kids love me. I know you're supposed to love your Mom, but I'm not an ad for Betty Crocker, and it's wonderful to be surprised at the depth of my children's love. I'm such a lucky bug.
That's another reason I want to do something really meaningful. My life is so good, and I'm extremely grateful. People like me should give back. And there's no way to rest on my laurels. The fact that I blah blah blah a few years ago or whatever doesn't enter into the equation. There's no set of scales measuring if one person has given enough in his/her life.
And there's no comparison to another person--Horatio does this much, but Cricket only does this much. None of that matters. We each give what we give. Some of us feel called to work behind the scenes and never get recognition, some of us feel called to work within our family or community, some of us are Don Quixote types and do grand gestures that may or may not make a difference in the world. I don't know why I'm the way I am. Too much introspection is the territory of the young. It gives me headaches.
My faults are very evident. I like that a few of my virtues are too. Too bad the faults greatly outnumber them. Guess that makes me human. And very quixotic.
Looking for windmills.