I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
To love means loving the unlovable. To forgive means pardoning the unpardonable. Faith means believing the unbelievable. Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless. ~G.K. Chesterton
I can grumble along with the best of the them, especially over the last year of nothing being as it was. There can be camaraderie in shared grumbling, as well as an exponential increase in dissatisfaction. Everyone shares their frustrations over how we have come to this — how people we thought we knew, and thought we loved, can be so obstinate and hard-headed.
You undoubtedly feel the same about me.
And I know better. I’ve seen where grousing and grumbling leads. It aches in my bones when I’m steeped in it. The sky is grayer, the clouds are thicker, the night is darker – on and on to an overwhelming suffocating conclusion that hey, life sucks.
Turning away from the vacuum of discouragement, I am reminded:
I have been loved even when unlovable. I have been forgiven even when I’ve done the unforgivable.
I have the privilege to choose hope and joy, turning away from being bleak and disgruntled and simply seek and bathe in the warmth and wonder of each new day.
This is not putting on a “happy face” — instead — in a true welcoming hospitality, joy finds me, adopts me, holds me close in the tough times and won’t abandon me.
Joy is always within my reach because hope has chosen me despite my hopelessness. How welcoming is that?
I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood. – Bill Watterson in Calvin and Hobbes
After four days of very cold crisp sunny days, it is raining tonight and predicted to rain for the next week. We are back to gray and miserable, right where we were for most of December.
What a relief.
There has been too much perfection for too long: four days of 360 degree views of snowy mountains and foothills that gleam in the sun, glistening crystalline fields of frost, sparkling clear waters in Puget Sound, and bright blue cloudless skies is hard for any northwest native to tolerate. It is hard work keeping up the smiles and general good humor that goes with excellent weather. There is always a clear expectation that one must be outside enjoying the rare sunny day, when it is far more appealing to curl up with a good book and a warm dog by a roaring fire, pretending not to notice how nice it is out.
We native Washingtonians are congenitally grumpy people, born to splash through puddles and lose our boots in footwear-sucking mud. We don’t carry umbrellas because they are useless when our horizontal rain comes from the side, not from the top. We wear sunglasses on mid-winter sunny days because we can’t possibly get our eyes to adjust to so much brightness. We wear hoods, sometimes even when we are indoors, just in case, because you never know.
Gray is preferred. Gray with wet and cold is even better. No one even questions a bad mood on days like this. A good mood would be highly suspect.
So I savor the opportunity to be disgruntled with such obvious justification as a rainy evening.
Downright crabby. No apologies needed. No excuses given.
It’s almost enough to put a smile on my face.