the D in DNA

This morning, I woke up with my head buzzing with a million things to do. It is now after one and I have accomplished none of them, though I did succeed in making a list. That is something. I aspire to be a list maker so I can have a totally organized life, checking off box after box, but I usually get so exhausted just thinking about all the stuff I need to put on the list that I have to sit down and have a snack. Then I saunter outside and take pictures. Then I write a couple of poems. Then I take more pictures of whatever fruit is sitting around in my fruit bowl. Then I make a salad for lunch, followed by a spoonful if ice cream straight from the carton. I avoid doing anything because there are too many things to do, too many things I need to get better at. Like making lists, for example.

Last night, I was with three of my oldest and best friends. I am like the cherry on this pile of cherries because I wouldn't be anywhere without the people who make my life... well, a life. I would just be rolling around in the dry and bumpy pits. It's funny, because earlier that day, I was praying for God to show himself to me in a tangible way and it occurs to me that he did it. He was sitting beside me all evening in the form of three warm bodies with words of wisdom.

The good thing about real friends is that when you tell them you are tired of working really hard just to feel acceptable to the world at large and not to be a total dork, they will tell you the truth: dork is the D in your DNA. But they love you anyway. One even mentions the extra room in her house where any of us can stay anytime for life. (Hmm. I could be happy floating in that pool for a week or so next summer.) But the best part? They tell you they're dorks, too. And that most people are, even though they try to hide it. We are all just striving to be loved and accepted as is.

Don't we (and by we, I mean I) waste a lot of time wringing our hands instead of embracing ourselves, quirks and all, then extending that tenderness to other people. Makes sense to decide, once and for all, to dispense with the wringing and hug it out. (Which can be a little awkward, depending on how long your arms are.) This whole deal is like slapping on your oxygen mask first in order to assist those nearby. Interesting. I mean, if God loved us enough to whip each of us up uniquely, fearful and wonderfully, shouldn't that be enough to prove our worth without quibble?

After last evening, I am cheered immensely. My new plan is to keep a rolling to-do list, but to focus on accomplishing two a day, instead of fretting over the whole shebang. Two, as a goal, is not scary at all. Any dork can do that. And now, as soon as I hit post, I will be down to one. If only drink a cup of hot tea was on the list, I'd be done and could chill and read a book. If I added read to the list, I'd be overachieving. Not to self: breathe. Repeat. Giggle. Breathe. Repeat.