A Lovely Weekend

Monday, Nov 07

This weekend was restful, and entirely undramatic. What a concept!

I did some shopping on Saturday–bought a Christmas present, and feel very smug about it–and on Sunday I played hooky from church and had breakfast with a friend. Biscuits and gravy, and I still stayed on program. That’s another thing I love about Weight Watchers. It’s real-world eating–you can have anything, if you plan and adapt. The bottomline is, some of us have to be careful what we eat, and I am one of these people. I’ve finally accepted that. I uncovered the rub in my journaling–I wanted to eat mindlessly, I guess, whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Well, as Dr. Phil would say, Get Real, Linda. Once again, personal responsibility rears its head. (I was going to say ugly head, but nothing about p.r. is ugly. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world, besides love.)

More on my friend. Her name is Sandi, and she’s a grief counselor, among other valuable talents. An acqaintance I much admire, and who has always been kind to me, suffered a terrible loss recently, and I’ve been trying to process it. What to say to this woman, who must be in unspeakable pain? There are so many pitfalls–saying, “It’s God’s will,” for instance. Or, “God needed another angel.” (The reaction to that one is likely to be a missile, aimed at your head. After all, the first stage of grief is anger, isn’t it?) Still, it’s even worse not to say anything at all. Sandi is helping me with it, and of course my journal has been a Godsend. I can get things out of my head when I journal, and onto the paper, where they can be seen from a broader perspective. If I don’t do this, I tend to become entangled in a lot of things that are basically none of my business.

Grief is very private territory, sacred ground. Too often, when we are operating from some level of ego, we are tempted to become emeshed in it, and that is an intrusion. We cannot attach ourselves, or truly enter in. And yet we cannot turn away, either. Compassion is called for, and the ability to stand squarely in the moment. It’s knowing when to speak and when to keep silent, when to act and when NOT to act, that’s the trick. And yet, if I get quiet, I know what to do.

If there’s a lot of sound and fury, and flying dust, then it’s a safe bet the ego is in charge. The Next Best Linda is only a choice away, though. Just the slightest shift, and I’m there.

About Linda

The daughter of a town marshal, Linda Lael Miller is a #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than 100 historical and contemporary novels, most of which reflect her love of the West.

Raised in Northport, Washington, Linda pursued her wanderlust, living in London and Arizona and traveling the world before returning to the state of her birth to settle down on a horse property outside Spokane.

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