Do you remember when you were a kid, and you messed something up?  You'd run crying to your mommy or daddy with the mess in your hands, and somehow, magically, they could fix it.  No matter what it was, they could fix it.

Once, when my daughter Amanda was about 7 years old, I sent her to the neighbors to borrow 2 eggs.  She made it all the way home, except when she got to our porch, she tripped on the steps and crack!  Both eggs smashed in her hands.  She came to the door crying, the egg dripping down between her fingers.  I can still remember the distraught look on her face as if to say, "What have I done?" and "Will you be mad at me?"

I feel that way today.  God, I feel like I'm a little girl again with all the stuff of life dripping out between my fingers.  I meant to bring you something whole, but instead there are pieces and goo everywhere.  It wasn't my intention, but somehow, it's what happened.

What have I done, Father?

Are you mad at me?

Can you fix it?  Oh please, can you fix it?

I love New York City.
The suburban mouse became the city mouse for a weekend or two.
The suburban mouse was surprised at how much she enjoyed
people, people everywhere
moving, always moving
steel and glass
Hummus bars and
French bakeries
Even staying at a hostel
hearing foreign languages spoken in her ear in a crowded elevator
walking, walking everywhere in the cold
the energy.

Of course I missed my trees and pond and sky and quiet.

But the city has wormed its way into my heart.

(And I love my nutrition school   And all my new friends.) 

My cool roomie Marissa

Me, standing in front of a photo(of a park in NYC) identical to the one I have been looking at on my office wall for the past 3 years.  I get to the hostel where I was staying the first weekend, and there it is, on my floor, the 12th floor, just down the hall from my room.  My dream has come full circle.

So, this week I was tempted to.....cheat.  An invoice came that showed I owed less than I really did.  To complicate the matter, I didn't feel the other party was keeping their end of our agreement--I didn't feel I was really getting what I paid for.  So, because my mind is extraordinarily good at rationalizing, my thoughts went like this:
               ........it's their mistake
               ........they broke their end of the contract, why should I keep mine?
               ........the extra money would be handy

Yet, I felt really crummy inside.  It felt like a literal battle was going on inside of me, and while the two sides were duke-ing it out, I was feeling very bruised and light headed.

My intentions flipped back and forth with the speed of a volley by the William sisters at Wimbeldon.  I will do the right thing.   But I don't want to do the right thing.  And so on.

So, I began to look inside.  This is new for me, but I am learning to be unafraid to look into my heart and see what's there.  Not as a judge or critic, but just as an inquirer.  I asked, "What is the root of this tendency to grab?"

The response slowly and surely rose to the top of my heart, like the cream does on my whole milk yogurt.  It's because you are afraid.  You believe that if you don't take care of yourself, nobody else will.

And this is true.
 
(to be continued)