Scissors for my hands?

What a couple of weeks it has been in the Black Family. We have celebrated Damien's 18th birthday....yes we survived the party, (so well in fact, that the parents lasted longer than the18 yr old's by out dancing the teens), we helped the new adult obtain his provisional license, buy his first car, and in the early May we also threw a 7 year old party to celebrate Flynn's birthday and it went off with a bang - all Nerf guns a blazing! Throw into this mix a bunch of media interviews, 12 added people staying in our house (welcome, wanted and beautiful ), serious ground work for Brave and interstate speaking gigs... it is any wonder you may be asking; why, oh why has she titled this blog, 'Scissors for my Hands'?

Good point.

At the beginning of the month, I was driving in my car- a 2002 Ford Falcon station wagon- all class, with the dickie seats in the back  (I know some of you love detail, nod nod- I can see you! ), that  I heard the song 'Hands' by Jewel.  After my dad passed away 11 years ago,  this song became somewhat reminiscent of that moment in my life. The words are "My hands are small I know, but they're not yours, they are my own and they're not yours they are my own and I am never broken. Poverty stole your golden shoes, but it couldn't steal your laughter. When heartache came to visit me- I knew it wasn't ever after. We'd fight not out of spite, but someone must stand up for what's right, because where there's a man who has no voice, there ours shall go singing....."

Anyone over 30 and female, should be singing with tears welling up now. Boys- yes, blonde, country gal with the guitar. The funny thing is, that not only did I hear this tune once, but three times on different radio stations this month, hence I had a feeling there could be something new I might learn from this little ditty. So I set off in thought about my hands, what they do in the day, how they do things.... the growing number of wrinkles and how when I pinch my skin it doesn't bounce back into like it used to any-more ( anyone else with me on this?) So I started daily moisturising and thinking about what my hands deliver each day- what is in my hand anyway? A not for profit, no time, busy house, speaking business... not much room for anything else. Or is there?

It strikes me often (almost in sink as the turgor lessens in my 34 year old skin!)  that the most pivotal moments in life are the simplest, so simple that you could almost overlook them. STOP- don't get the violins out now, get out Marshall Amplifier, what I was about to learn now was going to be very loud and clear.

I had an incredible encounter with a person this week, I was busy as a bee, trying to get a document for Brave to be completed by a deadline. As I was pushing the document up hill  my computer crashed, and I was franticly trying to work the auto-recovery tool,  I was greeted by a visitor who wanted to chat. Shock, horror 5 minutes of my time NOW. I remembered thinking- I wont get this in on time, I can't talk now, and almost gave the polite nod and smile, but then I looked at my hands and thought, OK- my call: what have I got to offer about this person? Surely a part of my day? The internal dialogue continued...what made my life so precious that I couldn't down-tool's for another? The mirror was critical of my behaviour. I went with the truthful reflection, looked at my hands and turned from my desk for ten minutes and made the mental adjustment to be available and there. I liked it, it was good.  Those 5 minutes out of my life made my week and showed me what I do have in my hands at every moment, and the fact that I completely overlooked what other's have in theirs... how big did I think my hands were? A little big for their boots, or gloves!!

In 5 minutes of time, I felt the genuine interest and mate-ship of another human. This person was not too busy and they had this feeling about them.... I think its called space. The said person came to ask if they could help me in anyway, the foundation, my family. Now here is the clincher; this person said they had little to offer, but what they did have is some window cleaning stuff and would love to help with our windows in our home!

Light Bulb moment for Bern, here I was thinking (as in the Jewel song) that I was the someone who must stand up for what's right pioneering a Foundation, but no-  here in my hands at this moment with this visitor- I    nearly forgot the whole point, its never about the big things...but about the many times in life we can often overlook and see how we can use our hands best, even in the smallest encounters. 'My hands are small I know,  they're not yours they are my own'... it's somewhat humbling and refreshing to know, that our hands don't have to be big or hold too much, but they are enough just as they are.

So in closing, as if hands haven't featured enough for me this month, my kids chose the movie for tonight: Edward Scissor hands. Now there is a story about the power of what's in our hands.....

Where do you fall in line?

Lines...., is it just me or do you find yourself in numerous lines throughout your life,  pushing you onwards to the carrots of shopping, Medicare reimbursements, Santa photos with the kiddies (love that one),  luggage collection, lavatories (ladies sigh :)), city peak hour and the 2011 necessity of the quest for liquid gold, especially before 9am?

Allow me to push you a little more in line;  where is your place in the temporary waiting world... are you a pusher-inner, a where you land or 'no, you go first' type of line rider?  Ladies and Gentlemen step right up, move forward and stake your claim,  take your place in line.

I was in McDonald's on the weekend, and proudly in line.  On this day I noticed it was incredibly territorial,  I began my journey at the front, waiting to be served. Being front of line  is a rare occurrence for me as Ive now hit my stride in being comfortably happy to choose the long line, after many years of deliberating which length of line is best.  After waiting one minute I was alerted to the fact that I was not in a line at all, by my fellow waiters who formed behind me.  Tell that to my stomach I thought, yup- I was hungry, as were my kids- although I figured out that it would only be a 5 minute wait and the food wasn't going to go any where.

So onwards was my journey to overtake and join another line.  Others that had followed suit in my phantom line behind me began bagging out Golden Arches by the bucket-load, stating 'surely it was a line', 'now I have to wait'. Poor us, we were hard pressed.  Now really, looking back its quite funny as I watched new line territories being marked (or as good as) and  heaven forbid anyone that would cross the invisible line of personal space that separated consumers of their impending quarter and cheese! Momentum gathered and I almost imagined a race gun firing as we each inched toward the counter millimeter by millimeter to stake our Macca's.

This got me thinking..where do I fall in the line? Until the last couple of months *blush* I  have to confess I used to be a line pusher-inner. My push in days go back years, I remember being at a music festival in Victoria and the car line up to enter was 3 hours long. So with a little bit of encouragement from my friends on the inside, I talked my husband into driving up the opposite side of the road..., (head looking down now), past kilometers of cars and  turned into the entrance right on time! Yes...I am quite embarrassed now, and promised my husband we would never push in like that again.

Was this push-in worth it?  No- not really, my poor husband  was so embarrassed (as was I) when we later heard the multitudes of carnival players saying 'did you see that  car??...I cant believe they did that!' So it is safe to say I have never encouraged such line stealing since. Other than that,  I now practice 'legal' push ins; to get up close at a concert or when boarding planes late, all the while asking permission and being very grateful  to my fellow line neighbors.

In my later days of my mid thirties, I now hang back a bit in line ...it is more reflective as opposed to my 20 something bustle. Being a specialist in line queuing I now ponder, who is really leading in these lines anyway? I have confirmed on the whole it comes down to two types.  1. The type that busts through on the shortest line  for the prize of  a grease filled burger or 2. Those that smile and just go about their line, ambiguous to territory or length.

Actually there is a third type, and I love them. Some line goers are so generous that they even let others in front of them and by choice- yes!  Its true, they are out there. We all know the type, when you only have two items to purchase and the person in front of you has twelve. Now...that is line sacrifice, and for me it goes a long way- such a long way that its caught on,  I'm even caught offering my spot in line on the odd occasions :)

So right here is the conundrum, who is leading who and how are we leading in line? If it were up to me I'd suggest the hang backers could be the true leaders- poise, calm, patience, grace. And probably the people Id be happy to follow.

So now its over to you...  where are you in the line? 

Love Bern x