It's Just a Hershey Bar

I left a Hershey bar in the car on a hot day, and it melted. 

When I picked the package up by its end, I could tell. 

All the magnificent chocolate was oozing to the bottom of the package. 

I was about to toss it out, but in a heartbeat, 

I decided to lay the package out flat in the fridge.

After awhile, I peeked in and opened the package. 

The chocolate had turned back into a Hershey bar!

Except there were no rectangles with the word "Hershey's" inscribed on them. 

Then, the Hershey bar melted again. This time, it was in my mouth. 

And I loved it just as much as I had imagined I could. 

Maybe I loved it even more than a Hershey bar with inscribed rectangles!

Because the Hershey bar and I had nearly mistaken packaging for the real thing. 

We came within a breath of giving up on ourselves and each other. 

But then, in a heartbeat, And just in time . . . 

We didn't.

Hi Renee #3 Be Peace

"Think peace.
Speak peace.
Act peace.
Be peace."
        Renee Hawkley

Hi Renee #2 On Peace

Hi Renee

I figured it out.
The value I covet most is Peace.
Even more than Love?
Even more than Love.

That explains why I'm alone right now.
Savoring Peace.
Knowing it won't last.

If only I could Own Peace.
And never never let go.

Yeah, right.
In This world?
In This family?
In This marriage?
In This heart?
Not gonna happen.

But wait.

"Peace in This heart" might be possible.
Because "Peace in This heart" just happened.
Last night and part of today.

But Renee.
You forget.
You were alone.
And you got to be in Control.

Aaaahhhhhh.
Now we're getting somewhere.

Remember Jesus said,
"Peace I leave with you.
My peace I give unto you.
Not as the world giveth
Give I unto you.
Let not your heart be troubled
Neither let it be afraid."*

Don't lecture me. 
I Do remember.
But Jesus is perfect.
And I am not.

There you go.
Making excuses.
For rejecting the Gift of Peace.
Offered by the One, the Only.
Prince of Peace.

I hope you will reconsider.
And try again. 
Imperfectly.

If not today.
The chance will remain.
Tomorrow.
And the next day.
And the next.
Whenever you're Ready.

Your Better Self

*John 14:27

Hi Renee #1 On Pain

Hi Renee

I see you have foot issues after today's six-mile walk home from Eagle Road / Franklin in the hot August sun.

Maybe you did this to yourself because it's important to prove to yourself that you're still independent, able, fully in charge, not beholden to or "smaller than" ANYONE and proud of it!

So now that you've proven your point, do you feel better?

Was it worth the four hours lost that could have been spent working on that almighty-agenda-of-yours-including-things-that-can-be-done-in-an-air-conditioned-car-while-on-a-road-trip? How about that favorite pair of red sandals with the heels? They're looking a little worse for wear after the trek. How about that blood and blisters? Pretty good proof to show how strong you are, eh? Was it worth it?

Because perhaps if you say it was worth it, you'll get a similar experience real soon that's a little harder and another and another until you learn something.

"They'll" never hurt you!! But then, why do "they" have to bother with hurting you since you're already doing such a great job of hurting yourself!

Enough.

For now, just take a warm bath and the rest of the day off.

Tomorrow's a new day.

Your Better Self

Attachments area

Stuck in the Rearview Mirror

While we're on the subject of boo-boos, I just stumbled on a letter I failed to answer in 2005 from a mom who was in prison. She wrote ". . . my mom raised my 3 older children and when she passed I had to take responsibility for the other 4 . . I have 1 year and 5 months clean of drugs and alcohol. So I'm maturing into this mother I long to be for my children." In 2005, I wasn't confident enough to respond to her letter with what I was struggling so hard to learn myself -- shift into drive, move forward in faith, and never get stuck in the rearview mirror.

Once Upon a Sunday New Year

by Renee Hawkley

Once upon a Sunday New Year, a stranger was driving along a stretch of McMillan Road that borders a residential area in Boise, Idaho.  She happened to pass a makeshift "Hot Cocoa Stand" attended by a smattering of young children.  A rickety car was holding its ground nearby.

OK.  A hot cocoa stand is an unusual sight to behold along McMillan Road on a frosty, sky-blue Sunday in January.  On her way home, the stranger passed the stand again, noticed the children had a small stream of customers, and was, well—curious.  She was also smitten with a sudden craving for hot cocoa. 

Now, this stranger has a rule about spending money on a Sunday.  She doesn’t.  So she turned her gaze again to the straight and narrow road ahead and kept driving.

Still . . . the car slowed as she decided there would be no slackening of standards if she were to turn the car around and go back just to hear how this “Hot Cocoa Stand” came to be.  That way, she could get the story without having to pay for it.  So she did.

And here’s the story, as told by the hot cocoa stand’s owner, a girl of about age ten, who wanted a specific family game for Christmas that hadn’t been delivered.  She wanted it badly enough to come up with an idea.  She would raid her piggy bank to buy hot cocoa mix and a can of Reddi-Whip, make a “Hot Cocoa Stand” sign out of cardboard, and ask her dad for help to set up shop with her younger siblings on McMillan Road.  Dad agreed to help.  And there they were—Dad helping the younger children to dispense hot cocoa and Reddi-Whip while his oldest daughter acted as cashier.

I don’t know if the family’s “Once upon a time” story has the “Happily ever after” ending it deserves.  All I know is that the stranger bought a tasty cup of hot cocoa that kept her warm all day—“with Reddi-Whip, thank you”—and paid more money for it than the cardboard sign suggested.  Once upon a Sunday New Year.  

Happy New Year!

Sunday ~ January 1, 2012

The Necklace

by Renee Hawkley

It was painful to pull the little grey cocoon of towel lint out of the dryer and discover that it was the earthly remains of a treasured necklace . . . the necklace that displayed the birthstones of our children and had been a gift to me from our daughter, Jill. Now, it was ruined due to my careless mistake.

I placed it on a dresser, promising to make an attempt at recovery later. Later became a year, maybe two. In the meantime, I often felt pangs of regret and sadness as I glanced at the tiny wad of matted silver in passing.

One day, I decided I had suffered long enough. It was time to see if some small part of the necklace could be salvaged. I gathered a few tools . . . a magnifying glass, a piece of black velvet to serve as "a jeweler's background," and a pair of needle-nosed tweezers . . . and went to work.

I was encouraged when the tight grip of the tangles loosened ever so slightly to my gentle urgings. I was disappointed to learn that several of the stones were missing and then elated to find both ends of the necklace with clasp and clasp receiver intact. A few more overs, unders, arounds and throughs, and the truth lay before me. The delicate chain was free and unbroken.

The process had taken less than an hour instead of the four I had budgeted. Luckily, the replacement stones were still being sold and were easily replaced.

I hope to wear my beautiful, restored necklace for many years to come, but there's more. I learned something.

Next time I get stuck in guilt after making one of those big or small mistakes that are common to my species, I'm not going to punish myself so long before deciding on a plan of action and taking the first step forward. Because, as it turns out, the first step forward doubles as the first step away from yearning to go back and change the unchangeable.