Good Morning All:
I want to say a few words here about grace, hospitality and love. First however , I want to talk about context. When daughter number two says, and I quote 'It's no big deal about your HuffPost thing, all of my friends are bloggers!' Now, that might well be true, however I personally have never written anything of note except for my grad school thesis, which, while certainly brilliant (insert slight sarcastic tone here) was never seen by more than at best, ten people. So for me, getting published in the Huffington Post was a big ass deal, and I wanted my daughter to be more than, slightly less than blasé. But stop Katharina, FOCUS! This is not about my needy needy self needing praise, this is about context, and grace and of course, hospitality.
Ok, phew, I am back on track. Moving on..
This weekend I went to Montréal to stay with my very best friend in the whole wide world and his husband and their daughter 'little bud.'
I must digress just a tad right here, please bear with me... but I must share that 'little bud' does not love me calling her 'little bud,' but tolerates it with weary shrug that belies her young years.
Thank you for allowing me that momentary lapse into digression, let us now return to my story...
When I, weary and slightly frazzled from travel, carrying my vintage Louis Vuitton purse , a Hello Kitty knapsack, the dog carrier and the dog; walked into my friend's guest bedroom, I was so moved I began to cry. There were blush roses ( my favorite) in a beautiful spare (again my favorite) vase placed on top of their vintage arts and crafts dresser. There was a box with artisanal organic soap. A glass bottle of water, and the piece de resistance, rose candies from France.
Woweee!! All this for little me?
Now this is where context becomes imperative. I am certain this room would make anyone happy, but for me it held more of a charge, because this gracious hospitality has before never happened for me. Here is what has happened to me up to the very recent, not so distant past. I get passed over, passed aside, thrown under the bus. I have heard tales of terrific cottage 'family' theme weekends, that my cousins could have invited me to join, but chose, for reasons of their own not to. I am bitter? Hell yes! Do I need to let this resentment go? No shit, Shirley.
Last night I had a dream about toads. I got rid of a terrarium filled with toads, but having dispensed with them, came back to find them hopping all over my bedroom floor. I need to get rid of my 'toads,' both the internal metaphorical toads and the external real life toad-like people. I need to surround myself with supportive people who 'get me' and who I 'get.' Friends that, when I knock on their door, take me in.
What I loved about my weekend away, almost ( I said almost) more than the flowers et al, was the way my friends are so protective of each other. They always have each other's backs, and are truly each others 'home.' This is so lovely for me to feel and witness. Watching them love each well, bolsters my belief that I as well, am deserving of this specific kind of loving. I truly believe that someone out there is waiting for me, and that I too can have a relationship with a partner that I can call my safe harbor. I shall welcome her into my home with open arms. In the meantime, I have some toad dispensing to attend to.