A Fantastic Discovery

Our pastor and his wife are wonderfully generous people. They let us borrow their car this weekend, which made it possible for us to do some necessary shopping out of walking distance, and even meet up with Reid's cousin for a few hours during her layover at the airport. Plus having a vehicle helped us make a fantastic discovery.

Now, anyone who knows me well knows I'm a bit Disney-crazy. There isn't a Disney store I can walk to, or take the train to, but there is one at a mall a couple cities north of us. So Reid and I drove to the mall Saturday evening. The place didn't look like much from the outside, but it was great on the inside. There were all the usual mall shops, along with stores like Sanrio and Charlotte Russe. But as we approached one of the ends, there perfection appeared.

Cinnabon!!! Now I love Cinnabon cinnamon rolls possibly more than any other sweet treat. But the eateries are far and between. I even try to plan my flights so I can land in an airport with one. Yummy. Totally scrumptious.

When I spotted the Cinnabon, my mouth dropped open and I froze. Reid followed my gaze and broke into a grin. Having already visited the Disney Store and Sanrio, and having passed Charlotte Russe, he couldn't imagine what I would respond to in such a way. We, of course, went and bought a cinnabon to share. Then I had to call my parents to let them know of the treasure we had found not far from home. What a fantastic discovery!

My Poor Shoes

Okay, so if you follow me on Twitter or keep up with FB, you'll already know about my poor shoes. But here is the story.

So this morning I started a roast in the slow cooker. I added the carrots, potatoes, roast, extras, and then went to get my onion out of the fridge--only to realize we didn't have any onions. So I slipped on my cute leather sandal flats and started the walk to the grocery store. It's over a mile away, but that's not far. I knew it was beautiful outside, but I didn't stop to think about the ramifications. Half way there my feet were getting a little sweaty, and by the time I reached Safeway the back of my heals hurt with blisters. But I still had other stops to make, so I put it from my mind.

Yet, after having made several stops, and gone on to Target (at least another mile), my feet were really sore. So I thought I'd buy some band-aides to just use as a cushion and barrier for the walk home. After I checked out, I sat at one of the tables in the entrance (we have a cafe and Starbucks there), and took off one sandal. My entire heal was covered in blood, as well as my shoes and jeans.

So I went into the women's bathroom (of course there were no paper towels, only hand dryers), used some damp toilet paper (did not work well at all), and tried to clean my heals. Then I put on band-aides and headed home (another mile). By the time I was home, there was blood everywhere again.

But the worst part is...I don't think I can save the shoes.

Four of Me

There's not just one of me. There are at least four...perhaps more...You know what I mean. There is the Me that always exists, the essence of who I am. This Me listens well, is organized, understands people, is compassionate, purposeful.

But then there is the more primitive Me--the one that appears with a threat. This second Me is the one made from survival. The one that always knows what to do...even if the more essentially Me does not. It runs more on instinct than rational thought. It is controlled and yet perhaps a bit unpredictable.

But both of these Me's are fairly reserved. Protective barriers in place about them. There is another, a less concerned Me--one that seems to experience joy without the accompanying fear or pain. This Me can be a little wild, free from the caution that retains the previous two. This is the Me that appears with only those closest friends. The Me that laughs openly, talks enthusiastically, smiles often, skips, holds hands, dances in the rain.

But they are also all Me. Just Me. Even if I wanted to become only one of them--I couldn't. And yet...maybe, just maybe they could be molded into one. But would I even want to if I could? I'm not sure. They each serve me well enough. Even those pieces I do not enjoy exist for a reason. Even when they fight and pull me apart internally, I still need each of them.

And what would the fourth Me do without the others? This Me is the one capable of weeping, the one who aches with every heart break, the one afraid to be alone. While it is the least seen of Me, and reasonably the most fragile, it's can also be the driving force of the group. This Me knows what has been, knows what can be, and pushes, yearns for a brighter future. The Me that acknowledges pain is also the Me truly able to value beauty, love.

Yes, there's not just one of me. There are at least four...perhaps more...