A Dime for your Time

If you know me, you know I am a collector. I have gone through spurts of various obsessions,
and at times have been known to hoard (just a little) the things I collect. The things I collect range from scrapbook supplies to snowmen to socks (I had three sisters and there were never enough matching socks) to books to candles. I absolutely love shoes and jackets and I never turn down a great pair of sweatpants. I wear earrings every day of my life so my earring collection is ever evolving. Some things are whimsical, some bring me comfort, and some are just practical. I have been teased many times for my gatherings of shampoo, hairspray, soap, and toothpaste...but those things have come in handy more than once during times that I could not get to the store or when we wanted to be a little more careful with our money. I have never had to worry about the necessities...because I had them stored away for a rainy (or hectic) day. I look at my rows of candles and lotions, and well, it's just beautiful.

#thecollector@Marvel

Aside from the essentials that I like to keep on hand, there are things I have procured that take special precedence over other things I possess. I have proclaimed more than once that some of my favorite collections are to be buried with me should I have to leave this earth before my family does. Though when I think further on this, I realize that these precious items should be left behind with the ones I love; and along with my treasures, the stories behind them.

No matter what I happen to be collecting in my life, having my little treasure troves tends to give me comfort. When I collected snowmen, it was because I wanted to remember there is still joy in the wintertime, even after Christmas has faded away. When I buy another candle, the scent can take me to anywhere in my memory that I associate with that scent. When I store away all my cleaners and toiletries, I know they will be there when I need them and I may even have some to share with another who is in need. Each thing brings me some kind of comfort.

The things that bring me more comfort than anything else are the things I associate with people.  I hold close reminders and tokens from or representing  important people in my life. When life gets challenging or my spirit is feeling broken, these special items restore order, calm, and a sense of self worth like nothing else can. They feed my soul.

My latest obsession is dimes. Let me tell you, they are harder to find than pennies. They hold a special place in my heart and fill me with hope each time I find one. I keep them in a beautiful china box that my grandmother hand-painted for me. This priceless piece was one of the things I wanted buried with me, but it is just too special to go into a box in the ground. Very few people know why I collect dimes, but everyone should know that there are times when finding a dime has literally saved my life. They appear out of nowhere and when I desperately need them. They show up when I am losing hope. They show up when I'm feeling lonely and afraid. They show up when I need to feel loved. They seriously materialize on the ground or on my desk or even on the playground and each time I pick one up, I am comforted and reassured that I am loved. Finding each dime is like finding a miracle-because each dime is found when I need it the most. I hope they show up in spades as long as I live.

I have mentioned before on my blog that I have a special box full of notes and mementos from people in my life. I have cards, well wishes, notes of affection and thanks, drawings and offerings of the heart. If I am experiencing an "I'm not enough" moment, I go to my box and am reminded of the people who do  think I'm enough, and have taken the time to tell me or show me. My spirit revives and takes on strength with each token of kindness that someone has granted me. I wholeheartedly believe that every person should do this for themselves. It's more than a box of feel-good. It's a treasure.

Moments of gratitude are something I collect with great intensity. I have filled 5 gratitude journals in the last 8 years and I treasure them. I try to list at least 3 things each day, whether big or small. As I leaf through each page, I can tell where I was in life, what I was dealing with, and how I kept goodness at the forefront. I remember all the good things I have been blessed with and how many times my loving God has sent me tender mercies and miracles-every day of my life. I count each one. I treasure each one.  And I am grateful.

WHY BOTHER

The urge to blog has been nipping at my heels for weeks now.  I quite enjoy  writing,  and authoring a blog is a wonderful processing tool for me-but each time I start a post, I rely heavily on inspiration to understand what it really is that I need to say. Though I concentrate to be able to relay critical thoughts in my brain, my processor is slow and sluggish. Maybe it's bogged down with too much input right now. I can't seem to focus on any one line of thought,  and it's making me worry. I feel like a pot that is boiling over; each thought rolling over into a hundred others, then evaporating like droplets of water landing on a hot stove. Little snippets and ideas come to the surface with such speed that I can't define them before they are gone again. I cannot gather my thoughts and emotions into any cohesive arrangement, so as I struggle to articulate the reflections of my heart and mind, I worry that maybe there is just nothing left for me to say. That scares me. I feel I am just beginning to find my voice. It can't be over yet, can it? I want to make a difference. I want to  give perspective. I want to help the world understand that the little things matter, that love can save the world, and that there is always, always hope.

I have always been quiet. It is only in recent years that I have been able to put my innermost feelings and opinions out into the world-and I know my blog has helped to open that door. I knew exactly when I needed to start my blog, and I knew why. I began with only a few views. While I do not write for numbers, I admit that each time I see another one of my blogs has been viewed, I always hope that a heart has been touched. I feel I write much better than I speak.

But now, I feel I can't write either. Does that mean I have used up my purpose in writing?  Is my ability to affect the hearts and minds of the people out there obsolete?  Do I make a difference? Is my desire to share my love not worth the time anymore? Am I too repetitious in the things that I say? I don't know. I just don't know. And I think to myself....why bother?


Then I remember. I remember my promises. I remember my mission. I remember my job...my purpose....to spread love and light. My readership is down. I have a hard time finding time and energy to put out a blog. I wonder who I reach, or if I reach anyone at all. But I said I would do it. If I touch one person-just to make that person smile, or feel understood, or give them strength to go on...it's worth it.  It's worth it to me-whether anyone else wants to know what I have  to say or not. It helps ME to go on. It helps me to process. It makes me feel like I have made the effort to do my part. I do it with love.

The thing that helps me the most is that whenever I begin to doubt my responsibility, I  ALWAYS recieve confirmation that someone needed to hear what I was prompted to say. A note, a comment, a text or re-post...somehow I am blessed with reassurance from another soul. I can't tell you what that does for a self-doubter like me! It changes the game every time. I have said before that I listen to heaven and listen to my heart to know what to write about. It delights me to the core when I get feedback that I was a good listener-that I followed the prompting and it made a difference to someone. Anyone.

So, as usual, I am grateful. Grateful for affirmations, for promptings, and for ability to follow through. I am grateful that I am spurred on to "bother" with the things I do, and that there are people who actually care enough to listen. I am grateful as well that regardless of who reads my words, I always gain something from writing them. Perspective, insight, love for mankind, acknowledgement of blessings, and reassurance of my purpose. Most of all, I am grateful for you. You, the reader. You, who gives me reason to bother. You, who support me. You, who love me. Thank you. Yes. I am grateful.