May 13, 2015
(This is part of a 365 project during my 70th year where I write and illustrate a blog on each day's gift.)
A little while ago, my friend Karen gave me a small reddish-orange glass dish—an art piece of glass. In it, she had placed stones, shells and other small items that she felt belonged with another stone that had the word WISDOM carved into it. Sometimes things are just things but sometimes they hold a feeling. This is the case with the colorful dish and the collection it holds.
I’m not sure what message was meant with the word “wisdom.” I certainly don’t feel very wise myself most days. I look to others for this. Maybe the wisdom has to do with what one collects. Maybe the wisdom has to do with why one collects them. Or maybe the wisdom has to do with touching them and reflecting on their place in the universe over a period of time.
Today after a medical appointment, I talked with one of my sisters. During our conversation, I told her, “It’s hard for me to accept my limitations.” All my life, I have embraced the idea that anything is possible for me if I set my mind to it. I became a teacher, went solo sky-diving, bought a motorcycle, became an entrepreneur, won a Fulbright to Japan, won $4,000 second place in a Kodak contest, got my doctorate, took photos as I was giving birth to my daughter. Anything was possible—until now. Recently I had my heart set on a photo workshop in Africa this fall, but it seems that it is not possible at this time.
My sister’s response to my complaint was, “You are such an accepting person. Why can’t you accept your own limitations as you age?” I think wisdom is knowing when to push past your limitations and when to accept them. I’m not quite there yet but I do remember my mother-in-law’s words to my father as he struggled with Parkinson’s disease and she struggled with loss of sight and hearing:
Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.” ~ Theodore Roosevelt
My gift today is other people’s wise words.
You can find links to my other posts on this project here: