God’s Time Is the Best Time
I’ve had a busy eBay week. I’m experimenting with Free Shipping, and my starting price is the cost of shipping plus one dollar. So far it’s worked pretty well, except in one case — I calculated wrong, and the item sold for $6 but shipping was $6.06. In any case, my receipts are starting to exceed my costs, so my eBay store is moving in the right direction.
I have been blessed by never being goal-oriented. I think it’s one of the benefits of A.D.D. You (if you have A.D.D.) just live in the moment because you’re constantly distracted by what’s going on around you.
But I think lots of people, including me sometimes, live from goal to goal. “I will be happy WHEN….” “I will feel peaceful WHEN….” And there IS no “when….” There’s just NOW. Which is not to say people shouldn’t have goals, or want things. Otherwise, why get out of bed?
This is from Alexander Pope’s “Essay on Man”….
Then say not Man’s imperfect, Heav’n in fault, –
Say rather Man’s as perfect as he ought:
His knowledge measur’d to his state and place,
His time a moment, and a point his space.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never is, but always to be blest:
The soul uneasy and confin’d from home,
Rest and expatiates in a life to come.
Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor’d mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul proud Science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk or milky way;
Yet simple Nature to his hope has giv’n,
Behind the cloud-topp’d hill, a humbler heav’n;
Some safer world in depth of woods embrac’d,
Some happier island in the wat’ry waste,
Where slaves once more their native land behold,
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold!
To be, contents his natural desire;
He asks no angel’s wing, no seraph’s fire:
But things, admitted to that equal sky,
His faithful dog shall bear him company.
Here with degrees of swiftness, there of force:
All in exact proportion to the state;
Nothing to add, and nothing to abate.
Each beast, each insect, happy in its own:
Is Heav’n unkind to Man, and Man alone?
Shall he alone, whom rational we call,
Be pleas’d with nothing, if not bless’d with all?
Safe in the hand of one disposing Pow’r,
Or in the natal, or the moral hour.
All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see
All discord, harmony not understood,
All partial evil, universal good:
And, spite of pride, in erring reason’s spite,
One truth is clear, whatever is, is right.
The Love of My Life
You know, when the electricity goes off, that surge of gratitude you feel when the lights go on? Then you forget it, and it’s business as usual. We don’t, except at those moments, think of electricity as gravy… as a blessing. We might think, man, we’d be in deep doodoo if the power went off, and then maybe we get an emergency generator. But we don’t stop to think, gee, I’m really grateful for electricity, or that my city isn’t being bombed to cinders today.
As corny as it sounds, Eddie Fisher was right… count your blessings.
Have peace today. All is well. –Mary