Going Inkless

This morning, I was amused by the irony that it has taken me so long to write this post on procrastination. The idea has been ripening in the back of my mind for some time, but the words just never fell into place. Every time I sat down to write, I found other things to do. It's strange how the desire to do something the right way can prevent you from doing it at all. Fear of missteps keeps your foot off the path, or the knowledge that you may never finish the journey keeps you from ever starting. Sometimes you plan or dream, but wait for the circumstances to align before you take the leap. It's the wise thing to do. Pick your moment. You'll be better equipped to get the job done. You'll be able to do the most good. But, while you wait, opportunities slip by. Inaction can swallow up a life. It's common enough in writing. Obviously, I fall into the trap now and then, and many of my friends who write have confessed to writer's block, stalling for mon...

Compassion should not be restricted only to those we feel deserve it. This is a hard lesson to learn, particularly when we think about those who have personally wronged us. Forgive your enemies. Turn the other cheek. These may seem like platitudes spoken only by those who have never really been hurt. But, the wisdom and the practice of forgiveness grows its strongest roots in those who have been wronged. Such offenses and injuries can be great teachers of compassion if you only see the opportunity. There are lessons to be learned in contemplating our wounds, and they begin with this: holding on to bitterness is a wound of its own, and it is a self-inflicted one. Refusing to forgive only keeps the offense alive, allows it to fester and scar, and closes your spirit to all hope of healing. You may think that withholding forgiveness is some sort of revenge on your offender, but often they either don't realize it or don't care, and all you do is poison yourself with the a...

One of our daughters is earning her B.A. this summer. I suppose it's the sort of thing that happens all the time. Summers are full of graduation celebrations, and it is, after all, the aim of every university to put diplomas in the hands of most of their students. Our daughter's story, while not unique, is certainly notable, though. She is the first in my branch of the family tree to earn one. While my sisters and I, my mother and grandmother all completed high school, and some have even taken college level courses, none have finished with a degree. More common in my family are stories like my father's. He quit seventh grade in order to go to work and help support his family. My great-grandmother had only a year or two of formal schooling before she had to devote herself to the farm. None of these dropouts stopped learning. All recognized the value of education and sought out opportunities to learn. Dad filled notebooks with equations figuring air speed and lift a...