Monday, November 14
Come back, Pollyanna!
I'm not going to get overtly political here, although there is a big part of me that wants to. I want to rant and rail and shout recriminations. On the other side of that coin I want to stop crying and complaining and feeling bruised right to my marrow by all the hurt. I'm doing 30 Days of Gratitude on Facebook and struggling--for the first time in my adult life since Nine Eleven--to find gratitude.
We have talked about anger, of which I have too much right now. We've talked about anguish. About fear. About what we can do to change things. To make things better for people who suffer. About how love can survive when there is so much hate.
I have learned, when I am 66, that I don't know anything.
Hi, I'm Liz Flaherty. I'm a mom, a nana, a wife, a writer. I love the Lord, my country, cats, and Diet Cherry Coke. My grandkids--the Magnificent Seven--their parents, and their grandfather are the reason I get up every day. They are my heart. They are healthy.
And of course I know something. Of course I do. I know I can't help everyone but I can help some--that's why I volunteer. I know love is much stronger than hate--remember that family I mentioned up there? The fact that they (and I) are healthy--oh, hell, gratitude's easy. I can't change much, but I can change me; it certainly won't be the first time. Because, like I said, I'm 66--you don't get to be this old without learning to change yourself. I've known anger and anguish before--Nine Eleven, Vietnam, and three assassinations of men I admired come to mind.
But I've never been afraid. And I'm not going to be now. So, yes. Another deep breath. Pollyanna's alive and well, and she's not giving up.
Have a great week.