waitressing made me brave: learning while moving forward.

waitressing: a job which requires you to 1. greet 2. talk to 3. generally socialize with and carry food to people and 4. generally deal with random people’s crap with a smile or risk a really lousy tip. I can see one benefit in that straight off and it’s the food: I’m not paid $2.13 an hour to smile my way into a good tip from the food. oh, well. at least the pizza is friendly.

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oh, dying is an awfully great adventure.

I find it fascinating, the fear that you find in grown-ups, is lacking in the children. call them naive. inexperienced. but I think maybe it’s true bravery. (or maybe I’m overthinking since I wake up to Little Sis’ wall art with this quote every day…) in the face of death, or the deaths of others, often I think of this and wish I could have a little of the Peter’s reckless courage in my stuttering heart.

being the GIFT when the pain gets tough.

it’s there right over the head of the secretary as I stare (or maybe it’s in the flowery pen that’d been pressed into my hand) and I think from stressed to blessed and the kind in her eyes deepen my heart’s crack and all I want to start doing is bless. because remembrance rushes me that is the one cure all for all the hurt in the world, the one thing that fills up all the jagged cracks.

chasing promises and loving small.

my Daddy always calls out to us as we leave be dangerous, take chances. I hadn’t thought of it, but that is love, true and real. it’s a love of life and people and the father that looks down on me from somewhere in eternity. tonight as my beads slip between my fingertips, all I can whisper is lord, have mercy, lord, let me be dangerous. in the small, in the large, oh, it is all a chance.