Promptings of Hope

Dear Friends,

My son gave me a gift card from Stitch Fix for Christmas.

Have you tried this sort of service? It was new to me, but I was intrigued. I filled out the online form in great detail – sizes, body parts to cover or enhance, style preferences and so on. When Stitch Fix #1 arrived, I kept one item and returned four. Stitch Fix #2? I kept four and returned one! So far, the conversation with the stylist is working. She’s like a Guardian Angel in the world of shopping.

But the part of this arrangement that really captures my interest?  My willingness to “try on” someone else’s point of view about my clothes. Yes, I contribute to the process, but some of the styles that arrive in that box are new to me. I feel brave as I slide into extra skinny jeans or a scalloped edge sweater. Through my willingness to experiment, I give myself permission to explore more sides of my fashion-self.

Sometimes I “try on” feelings or ideas, as well. I give myself the opportunity to adopt a new attitude, even if its just for an afternoon. Last night, as my husband and I lit candles and shared some brandy, I was reminded of our visit to the Woodstock Inn in Vermont. So, our home became Beseck Inn for the night, cozy and charming.

This experimental approach has been helpful to those grieving a loss, as well. Instead of staying home all weekend, Janet decided to attend the library’s book sale to find a book for her niece. She expected people to ask about her husband and anticipated feeling the pain of her loss, but at the same time Janet wanted to stay connected with her neighbors. Her “experiment” created boundaries that protected her still-healing heart, while she explored life around her.

When Janet walked away from the library, she carried seeds of courage and hope. She has a little more confidence in herself. As I wear those skinny  jeans and receive a compliment, I experience much-needed encouragement to heal the shaming wounds from adolescence. Our losses come in all shapes, friends, and they all require our tender care. When we trust grieving’s wise guidance, we learn to hold those losses with love and allow the healing to unfold. 

These days, I’ll wear skinny jeans, drink brandy and thank God for the opportunities around me. I’ll honor the message of Dag Hammarskjold, a former UN Secretary General, with a shout-out to each of you;

“For all that has been – Thanks. For all that will be – Yes.”

 

with affection, Lisa