I Spilled Twice

Today was one of those days. I was on my way to work when I realized I forgot the papers that my boss specifically asked me not to lose.

I guess you could say I woke up on the wrong side of the bed but let's be honest; which side is technically the right side? Is it actually referring to the right side of the bed or the "correct" side of the bed? And what is correct?--a common dilemma in our day and age.

So on my way out the door, I grabbed a bowl of cereal. It's called Strawberries Awake--you know, the cheap brand of Special K. (Side note: I should have just bit the bullet and bought the name brand. It's a fitting title for me, Special, for obvious reasons, and K for Kelly...which it wont be that for much longer.)

At any rate, I got in my car with my milk-drown cereal (for extra special people) and set it on the passenger's seat. As soon as I turned the corner, milk poured everywhere. I had nothing to clean it up. I figured it was just going to have to wait until I got home tonight.

Fast-forwarding to lunch: For whatever reason, it's freezing in Utah. Here we are, in June. and it's below 40 degrees outside. Bitter, foul, and freezing. So what does a "special k" girl like me do? I buy some hot herbal tea at the friendly 7/11. Again, I turn the corner, after placing my tea in the empty bowl beside, thinking it would barricade it, it spills in the exact same spot as my foul dairy friend had done earlier. 'That's it.' I thought. 'I am done for.'

Not only did I spill once, I spilled twice. In the same spot. And I was so bitter, I didn't muster the energy to clean it up.
So here I sit, feeling extra special, tired, and full of tea--just not off of the car seat or floor. I'm not that desperate.

The Clock Ticks

The clock ticks.
No one around.
Hunger returns.
Smiles remain.
Tiredness gone.
Thoughts envelope.
Chest pounds.
Eyes weary.
Fingers type.
Nothing matters.
Fear comes.
Fear leaves.
Hurt heals.
Love hurts.
Warm embrace.
But no one's around.
The clock ticks.

Joy.

Love Defined

Love isn't something that should grow stale or cold; but it often does. It is something that is acquired solely through effort. It truly is an ability. Why? Because even in my "puppy love" I find times when I don't feel as close; don't feel as accepting; as confident. This is when open communication is a necessary part in this game we so cruelly name life. So what do we do to keep these channels open? We do the one thing we were designed to do as human beings: recognize WHOM is behind it all.                                    

So who is that? That would be God. He, being onerous, is also intimate. That is why these so called "coincidences" don't exist in my vocabulary. That is why I believe love exists. Not merely because it's a "nice thing" or something "convenient." It is what we were born and bread to do. To fulfill our purpose and become as creatures of He whom designed us to be more than we will ever understand or give ourselves credit for.


That being said, what is love? Something that endears us to another being? Something that can be tossed in the wind? No. It is our divine capacity to see others through God's eyes; to witness a person in their potential "god-like" form while choosing to overlook weaknesses and shortcomings. It is to recognize that even the most vile of people can be spared through that same sacrifice that spares each of us daily. For that is how He looks at all of us; with such compassion that only He can understand.


THAT, my friends, is love. And THAT is what we all have the capacity to obtain.