Sunnyside Up Fresh Perspectives

My husbands’ answer when I ask this question is “Better than anyone I know”, but let’s ignore him for now.

I don’t claim to be a great mind. I did not win any scholastic awards at school, and I consider myself to be of average intelligence, but I am curious about some things.

For example, I was watching a recent news broadcast covering a plane crash. Their search centered around finding the black box which provides the details of a plane (or boats) last activity prior to the crash. The commentator went on to describe the importance of the black box, stressing its’ ‘indestructibility’. Now I’m no scientist but if a black box is indestructible, why don’t they just build planes and boats out of the same material and avoid the whole destruction in the first place?

And if we are all truly descendants of the seven daughters of Eve, how come more of us don’t look alike? I would expect to see a lot more “me’s’ out there.

And why is milk that’s gone sour bad? Isn’t buttermilk just soured milk?

If Dolly Parton stood on her head, would she smother?

If you truly could ‘have it all’, where would you put it?

If the disciples consumed the blood and body of Christ, does that make them cannibals?

If man, with his superior intelligence, can invent sophisticated polar orbiting satellites that can monitor the entire earth’s orbit and predict weather conditions, why do they rely on the appearance of a rodent every February to predict the coming of Spring?

And if we need seeds to grow watermelons, how can we be harvesting ‘seedless’ watermelons?

The list goes on and on because like all humans, I am curious, and curiosity is a natural and healthy reaction.  It doesn’t always cast us in an intelligent light, but it displays an ‘ever thinking’ brain. (such as it is)

Sometimes my curiosity takes the form of confusion because a situation puzzles me. Other times it intrigues me, prompting that ‘need’ to know the answer. Either way, it’s a good indication that my coconut is in working order, and the older I get the less I am self-conscious about asking what might be deemed a stupid question because I’m more interested in the answer than the reaction to the question.  And I’m fairly certain that I can’t be the first person to ask stupid questions. Some might  just think them too absurd to voice out loud, but I’d bet money they’d be all ears for the answer when someone else does!

So I will continue to pursue answers to what others might think are stupid questions, and when I get the answers that satisfy my curiosity I’ll move on to something more intellectual,,,,,, or maybe not…..because maybe ignorance really is bliss, and I’m in a happy place.

While shopping recently I was browsing a rack of tops with a friend when I happened upon a particularly ugly (or so I thought) sweater.  Pulling it up to show my friend, I said, “Good God, look at this. Isn’t it hideous?”  As soon as the words came out of my mouth I saw a woman standing in front of me wearing that very sweater. (I still think it looked hideous) Needless to say, I was somewhat red faced. I crammed the offensive item back into the rack and moved on down the aisle muttering a quasi-apology. Realizing taste is very personal and unique to each of us, I was suddenly conscious of my habit of thinking out loud and it occurred to me that without meaning to, my opinion could offend another. Surely I can’t be the only person guilty of speaking their mind? That said, it got me thinking.

Is it really wrong to tell it like it is? I mean that same woman might have laughingly looked at my attire and thought it ugly. (She’d be wrong of course, but it’s a free country….) Or maybe it could’ve prompted her to rethink her fashion sense. Either way, isn’t it our very differences that make us interesting, unique even?

In another scenario, my husband and I were at an intimate dinner party, some years ago. During a discussion about various foods my husband happened to mention he loathed rice and had all his life. He went on to describe them as tasteless pellets. Well, you can imagine the look on several faces around the table when each was served an Asian stir fry on top of a pile of (the offending) rice. Most were completely unaware of the furtive glances between our hosts but my husband looked clearly uncomfortable. Needless to say he shoved down as much as he could, boasting about how delicious it was and how he’d been converted. (I still hear about his ‘sacrifice’ to this day) Now, like me, he had no intention of offending anyone, he simply spoke his mind. (had they served potatoes, this awkwardness could’ve been avoided)

Is it our subconscious that speaks without thinking or are we very much aware of our flippancies. And what are the repercussions of honestly speaking our mind?  I mean it’s not like it could kill you. (If uttering untimely or inappropriate things is truly the innocent result of the subconscious mind how is it Don Cherry hasn’t choked to death yet?)

I’ll admit there are times we regret having spoken out loud – we’re all guilty of telling it like it is on occasion but that can’t always be bad. No matter how carefully we choose our words there will always be someone who misinterprets their meaning. As long as we are open, honest, and sensitive to our delivery, we should always speak our mind because life is too short to hide behind our unexpressed thoughts, besides, speaking your mind clearly and intelligently can influence others to see your point of view. Not everything is seen as a criticism. (Ok, the sweater was truly ghastly but I suppose I didn’t need to voice it out loud)

That said, there are situations where tact and diplomacy must take precedence. If it’s constructive and adds value to a conversation, spit it out. If it in any way offends another, or halts an otherwise pleasant conversation, bite your tongue, cause nobody wants to hear it.

Me, I’m a work in progress. I aim to be engaging and open in any conversation and for the most part I succeed, but if I’m faced with a situation where my emotions get the better of me, biting my tongue might be too little too late.  Maybe I’ll try pulling my hair instead.

My children have all moved out and bought homes of their own and because they are in a growing mode and my husband and I are now in shrinking mode, it makes sense to pass along household items that are still of use and can be better utilized to a start-up household, so we offered out furniture, recreational items, and linens, now better suited to a growing family.

While sorting through the many videos and DVD’s we’d accumulated it dawned on me that my husband and I are no longer building a life, rather we are starting to wind it down. This was a startling revelation. For the past several years I‘d considered myself to be middle-aged but I realize now, that would mean living until I was 110 and that’s not going to happen, so I have to face reality. Truth is, it went by really fast.

When I hold my granddaughters I could swear it was just a couple of years ago I held their mother the same way. Has it really been 30 plus years? My only regret is that I couldn’t have slowed it down and if, at any time, I neglected to ‘stop and smell the roses’, it’s now too late because that bloom is now off that rose, and I can only hope for another opportunity to blossom.

After much deliberation I came to realize that opportunity presents itself every day, and this bit of wisdom only came with maturity. My life was so busy with jobs, and family, and car pools, and school…it all seemed like a blur and I fear I missed some wonderful moments because I didn’t take the time to really appreciate them, so focused was I on just getting through the days. Now when I look around, I see a host of special moments. Not all are mine, but that’s ok. I now see any moment as an opportunity to stop and reflect on its’ importance, and I’d like to think I now carry that lesson so that others can benefit.

If I can teach anyone younger, anything at all, it would be to make yourself consciously aware of each moment before it slips away. Take the time every day to find something beautiful in something very ordinary. It doesn’t have to be a lot of time because, as we know, life has a way of ‘getting in the way’, so choose your moment and make it count because once it’s gone it’ll never present itself in that way again. Look for the value in everything and everyone….don’t let a busy state hinder your path to growth.

There is a very distinct pattern to our lives and if I had to map its’ path it would look like a wagon wheel. We are all meant to explore, question, learn, and process; taking avenues off our core route to broaden our knowledge, and returning to its’ centre to continue on our journey. The results fashion our personal profile, and ignoring those ‘moments’ denies us our opportunity for spiritual growth….and yes, this too is a lesson that comes with maturity.

Better late than never.

I was out to lunch with some friends recently and the conversation around the table moved to spiritualism and organized religion, always a loaded topic but not overly contentious with this group. We are all diverse in our beliefs but harbor a healthy respect for each others choices. One friend in particular has always been adamant about her position as an atheist but her conversation this time surprised us all. She alluded to feeling a need to return to her church and was struggling with what she perceived as a betrayal of her own belief. For years she was confident and comfortable as a non-believer. Now, for reasons she herself can’t explain, she feels compelled to return to her faith. Her struggle was with ‘what changed, and why’?

In another scenario a young man enjoyed a reckless and adventurous youth. He studied hard but only because he knew he wanted a comfortable life. He partied harder, and eventually he either burnt himself out or had an epiphany, because in an overnight transition he found his purpose and made radical changes to his life, shocking friends and family. The medical career he’d studied for to maintain his luxurious lifestyle became his ‘gift’ to mankind. For reasons he could never explain he left his high rolling bachelor life and committed himself to God. He now provides medical relief in third world countries, trading in his sport cars for much need medical equipment and fresh water, and he lives, happily, in the most base conditions.

The angry career criminal who mercilessly commits crime after crime, because each time he did so hardened him and it became easier, now wants to rehabilitate and counsel troubled  souls to steer them away from the path upon which he once trod. When everyone else tried to put him on the right path, they failed, then one day he just forged a new path himself and never looked back.

There were no epic life events in any of these three situations that prompted the ‘ahha’ moment that suddenly struck with a life-changing realization that would alter the rest of their life story. In fact, in all three scenarios the individual knows not why they must move in another direction. They just know that they must.

I believe we are all meant to walk a specific path, the path that ultimately satisfies our purpose for being here.  For many that path is clearly marked and they do not stray. For others, that path meanders in a risky direction, taking unlikely turns and moving them further from their purpose. In youth we stray from our faith because it is the very impetuousness of youth that makes us question the status quo.  In maturity, long after we’ve explored other avenues, we return to our faith, if only to confirm it was meant for us after all.

For those of us taking  a ‘wrong turn’ in life, finding the road back comes at a high price but ultimately leads to safety, peace, and happiness, and very often those taking those radical turns can’t explain them. They just know it’s right.

Destiny required you to stray for a time, and the lessons learned during this brief hiatus are every bit as important as the need for you to return. The road back presents itself at just the right time and for the right reasons. Don’t try to analyze why, just take it.

Watching my local news station the other night, I found myself interested in the story of a Syrian man who’d acquired his Canadian Citizenship. When interviewed he made a comment that piqued my interest and made me think. He is, by all accounts a refugee success story; settling in to a rural Nova Scotia town after fleeing Syria with his family, immersing himself into the community and determined to build a positive future, for himself, his family, and those who helped him.

Among the many humble comments he made in the interview, he also alluded to immigrants being perceived in past as something of a burden, draining an already tight financial economy and taking the jobs of locals, a perception he proved very wrong. His is the perfect example of the ideal immigration story. Over the past three years not only did he work to give back to his community but he also launched a successful chocolatier business that now proudly employs some 30 plus locals; a gift to this rural community where jobs are scarce.

My parents were immigrants, among the many after World War ll, who flooded North America. They arrived in Canada with two children, two suitcases and $57 US dollars. They didn’t speak the language and had no formal job training; the war took care of that, but they were hard working, honest, and determined to make a new life, a good life. Fast forward to today and I can proudly say that these two immigrants, like so many others who remain anonymous, built a successful life in their chosen country. They learned the language and after obtaining entry level jobs, both eventually reached senior positions in their fields, eventually retiring with a comfortable life.

This Syrian refugee, like my parents, like so many others, not only didn’t ‘take’ the jobs of locals, rather they created them for others. Immigration has enriched the very fiber of society, bringing us diversity, teaching us tolerance and acceptance, and uniting all mankind. And don’t even get me started on the food, the variety of restaurants, grocery stores, and traditional foods is a bounty enjoyed by all!

Immigrating isn’t easy, nor is it for the faint of heart. It takes tremendous courage to leave all that is familiar and start anew in a place where the language, customs, and traditions are foreign, and it’s especially difficult if the reception is less than welcoming.  (walk a mile in their shoes?)

Let’s embrace the diversity immigration brings because it makes us stronger, richer, and better as a people. And who knows, maybe one day we’ll even abolish racism, supremacy and hate.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Dating has changed, dramatically, and I’m glad I’m not single and looking. Gone are the days when you’d meet someone by chance at a grocery store, or be introduced to that special someone by a mutual friend. Todays busy single has to resort to on line chat rooms and dating services to screen potential applicants because it seems our busy lives make it impossible to find the time to get dates by conventional methods. What’s prompted the upsurge in this non-traditional practice of meeting that special someone(s)?

My first guess would be time. My second would be a combination of laziness and insecurity. If we do not meet our perfect match via our existing social network; work, school, and families, we have few hours left in our waking day to continue our hunt, so it’s quick and easy to just surf the net seeking our prey. You don’t have to dress up for a date only to be disappointed. And you have the advantage of ‘screening’ your victims, sparing you the awkwardness of having to let them down gently should you arrive for your date and discover they’re 4 feet tall, balding, and are missing most of their teeth. Online viewing gives you the chance to scrutinize your potential loves, dumping the rejects with a simple ‘delete’ – no apologies, no accountability, just movin’ on…to someone ‘better’.

So how do we learn from this?

We don’t. We just develop a deeper insensitivity to our fellow man. Internet dating provides us with the safety of cover. We can criticize and dissect potential partners without hurting any feelings because our screening process assures us anonymity, i.e. we don’t see the faces of our rejects. We don’t see how our rejection has affected them. And if we don’t see, how can we be to blame for any hurt feelings?

On the other side of this double edged sword, we also don’t ‘see’ the potential good of these people because we’re too busy scanning the ‘visual’ qualifications of our numerous candidates for ‘love’. Let’s face it, we are human, and given a choice, we all want ‘the looker’, ‘the hunk’, and on first meeting we’d likely overlook some shortcomings as long as they looked good.

The average guy who’s slightly balding might have a heart of gold, a good job, and the love of every Grandmother on the planet, but if you plant his Bio next to Biff Studmaster, (the hunk) his ‘hits’ will be minimal by comparison. Now I’m not saying Biff isn’t a great guy, but he doesn’t deserve any advantages on the dating sites because he likely gets them in every other aspect of his life. (Give baldy a chance already)

And what are you really learning about ‘people’ through online sites? There’s no tone, no expression,,,,no ‘personality’. It’s actually a very superficial way to meet another human being. The only advantage I see is the ability to connect with someone living in a place in which you are unlikely to be, but then maybe that’s destiny? (No wait, that’s a Penpal) If you’re meant to meet, I believe you will. Somehow fate will bring you together, where ever you are, and if it doesn’t, it wasn’t meant to be.

So how does this strategy help those looking for love? It doesn’t, but then I’m not sure anything will, and maybe not everyone is meant to be part of a couple. We do each walk a different path; not all of us are meant to marry, have 2.5 children, a cocker spaniel, and the white house with a picket fence.

I’ve seen too many people so determined to meet someone they’ll stop at nothing, i.e. they can’t ‘not be’ in a relationship. If they don’t have a ‘current’ on their arm, they don’t exist, and the sad truth about that is that they will never find love that way, because ‘love’ isn’t just the guy on your arm. It’s the person your heart connects with, the one who loves you, flaws and all, the one who’ll stand by you through anything. And if he happens to be 4 feet tall, balding, and missing some teeth, consider yourself lucky, cause by todays dating standards, you’ll have no competition to win his heart.

Here’s to traditional dating…..and long live ‘average’!

We all know that perfect guy, one, at least,,,,,maybe two, and if so,,,,,heaven help you. They’re beautiful. They have well matched features, thick wavy hair, perfect skin, a great body; they’re the whole package. They always seem to score the best jobs and they’re popularity is legendary. They have all the confidence in the world and they strut their stuff because they have it to strut.

In school they scored top of the class,,,,in everything, and their friendship was sought after because just being accepted into their circle of ‘coolness’ meant you too belonged on a pedestal. They could run the fastest, speak the most eloquently, and all who are graced to be in their audience are held spellbound with fascination. It seems they can do no wrong.(Mother Jesus, they probably even pick their nose with class)

In the workplace they were respected, just for showing up every day, and they don’t have ‘jobs’, they have ‘careers’. They received accolades for suggestions that were not necessarily original or even good, but their delivery was enough to sell the idea. When you present an idea it’s challenged as being radical and inefficient. When the perfect one offers his suggestion (which is often a variation of yours) he’s given credit for thinking outside the box. You can’t win so don’t try.

When they found their life partner (who was also perfect, or at the very least proffered the required idol worship) they set about building their lives together, and the world wept as the most eligible man was now ‘off the market’. What’s it like to be the wife of a perfect man? Is she riddled with insecurity for fear she might lose him because, dare I say it, she’s not quite Super woman enough, or is she just so grateful that she was the ‘chosen’ one?

They bought the perfect home and their furniture was all custom made; the wood hand picked by him. In fact, he probably planted the seed, that sprouted the tree, that he later felled (cause he’s also an expert lumberjack) that built the house, blah, blah, blah, (ok, did they ever buy anything on sale at Franks Furniture Warehouse? No, of course not) but you see where I’m going.

How is it that some people are just born to be perfect and how does it come so easily to them? Are they even aware of their ‘silver-spoon’ status?   Surely they must suffer moments of uncertainty, insecurity even, though they’d never show it. And there has to be a lot of pressure in being part of the entourage that travel in the circle of this ‘Super Man’ cause you have to constantly keep up. (personally, I’ve found it easier to just admire their perfection from afar)

I am not the perfect woman and I am not married to the perfect man, at least not in the superficial sense of ‘perfection’. We are average people of average size and appearance, and we are reasonably intelligent. We both sport a good sense of humour, we live a respectable life, and while we don’t have an entourage of constant admirers, we do have a healthy circle of family and friends,,,,who are also not perfect, but they’re good people, and they’re fun.

At the end of the day I think we are all driven to perfection in one form or another, but for some the road is smoother, and I don’t know why. It doesn’t mean they’re necessarily better at navigating through life, in fact, I’d venture to say they’re just somewhat oblivious to the bumps in the road that we careen over, and missing out on some of life’s struggles isn’t always better. Isn’t it those very struggles that build character?

Maybe we all, early in life, have the choice of following the perfect (easy) path, or taking the bumpy road. Me, I chose to build my character, sacrificing perfection, cause I didn’t want to impose that kind of pressure on my entourage. You’re welcome!

Last year I made a resolution to never make another resolution at New Years. It’s too much pressure and it just sets you up to fail because we invariably set goals that are too lofty and unrealistic.  Now, upon reviewing this past year, I realized that while not making any resolutions didn’t cause me any failures, it didn’t exactly put me on the path to success either.

On reflection, it seems I spent a lot of time searching for projects this past year; projects that made me happy (actually others benefited more from my efforts, so they were happier) but nothing that truly brought me satisfaction. I stayed true to my commitment to look after myself. I walk regularly. I returned to yoga, stretchy pants in tow. I maintained a healthy diet, albeit a robust one (portion control is my nemesis) Ok, I gained another 5 pounds….mid-life, menopause and gravity are ganging up on me and it’s totally bitchin’ but I’m trying.

All things considered, it’s been a good year and I have a very good life. My health, my family, my friends – life really is very good. So what’s my problem? I have this feeling that I’m supposed to ‘do’ something, something important. I just don’t know what, so I keep searching. I dabble in the arts to test my creativity. I took a series of art classes, acrylic, and I really stink, but it’s fun. Not so fun for the teacher who often refers to me as her ‘special project’, but I do enjoy the release of the Picasso in me (frankly my 4 year old granddaughter paints better than I do) and I know this is not the special thing I was meant to ‘do’. It’s just filler.

I’ve always wanted to play the guitar and as luck would have it, I have one. My son left an old guitar when he moved out. Could this be a sign? (Actually, I always wanted to be a ballerina but my sturdy European legs couldn’t master a graceful pirouette…the clashing of my thighs sent such a reverberation through my body it was all I could do to land on my feet without crashing to the floor in a quivering heap) I’d still like to learn the guitar but I’ve noticed a shorter attention span with aging and I’m not sure I could tolerate the endless scales. I want to play, now, a song, not just random scales, and I fear the frustration would turn me into one of those face-painted rock stars that smash their instruments on stage. (Can’t you just see the headlines…..”Grandmother goes berserk at church recital sending innocent bystanders fleeing for their lives”) Ok, maybe the guitar lessons can wait.

I wanted to be a better person in society; no judgement, no temper, just tolerance of others lifestyles and personalities, acceptance of others limitations – sounds easy yes? (shouldn’t we all aspire to this?) Well, I think I am a better person. Age has made me more accepting however I could be described as one who is somewhat strong minded (others say I’m opinionated but what do they know) and this was, and is, a challenge for me. There just seems to be an inordinate number of imbeciles in the world and I have a hard time not pointing it out. (Actually, last year I secretly vowed to bite my tongue every time I felt the urge to criticize another but eventually my tongue became so swollen I developed a speech impediment and had to abandon this resolution)

Let’s just say I didn’t exactly conquer the world in 2019 but that doesn’t mean I won’t in 2020. I’m still searching for that one project, that one thing I’m supposed to ‘do’, and I just know I’m close. In the meantime, I’ve decided to take the pressure of setting goals off myself, again. I will ‘do’ something meaningful and regardless of how it will affect the rest of the world, I am confident it will have a profound effect on me, and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

Look out 2020, here I come, and I’m gonna ‘do’ something….just watch me!

I’m an emotional person. I don’t necessarily project this in conversation (unless I’m angry….then you’d better run) but for those who know me, really know me, (and there are truly few) I can be read. I sob through all the holiday commercials about a long lost relative coming home at the eleventh hour. I can’t bear the pleas for help against abused animals, and a heart wrenching country ‘love gone wrong’ song will bring me to tears. Aside from that, I’m actually pretty tough.,,,,so,,,,I’m  normal, right?

That said, I do tend to express (often unwittingly) my inner most feelings when I write. We all need an outlet and I guess I tend to bear my sole….in print (or so people tell me) and for me it’s therapeutic. Maybe that’s why so many psychologists suggest patients keep journals. It’s a private place to vent your innermost feelings; a place without judgement or retribution….or is it? Turns out, it is not an anonymous venue because someone, somewhere, will read your thoughts and you have no control over how it will be interpreted, and that’s where the problems arise.

I think there are situations when we should keep our emotions to ourselves; keep your face without expression and hold your tongue (ok, I’d struggle with  holding my tongue….I’d have to bite it….what if I bleed to death?) if only to protect others. The benefit of this self-control is you do not subject yourself to any form of judgement or ridicule, and you spare the feelings of another. The down side of holding emotion in is that you might explode (as I would).  I believe I am destined to always be an outspoken, emotional person, which I hope portrays me as honest and forthright…..ok, maybe a little too honest and forthright, but at least you never have to question where I stand, and I would never aim to cause anyone pain or embarrassment.

There are many who ‘wear their emotions on their sleeve’, softies whose emotions are displayed in vivid facial expression and tone of voice. There’s nothing wrong with this but it can be a double edged sword. On one hand it projects you as sensitive and genuine, which is good. On the other it opens you up to people who might take advantage of your gentle nature.  (I am not one of the softies….at least not overtly)

I think we are all guilty at some time or another of saying something we perhaps shouldn’t (at least not out loud) but we are human, and it’s hard to hide emotion, much as we try. We each have our own perceptions of a situation and it’s in these differing perceptions where misunderstandings occur. My ‘take’ on a situation may differ from another’s, drastically enough that it causes conflict,,,, but maybe that conflict is good? It sparks much needed conversation; conversation that provides clarity, if only for you.

Maybe another’s interpretation of your actions is just what you need to help you deal with your own unconscious thoughts because they are seeing you clearly and without emotion, and that forces you to face your true demons. Failing that, you can hold it in, say nothing, and risk imploding.

Just short of 2 weeks ago my baby had a baby. A little girl; his first child, and my 3^rd grand daughter, and it reminds me all over again of how new and exciting life can be. Now I know that babies are born every minute, everywhere, but none are as monumental as our own. Ours are smarter, prettier, funnier,  and practically perfect. (what are we breeding here,,,a society of Mary Poppins’ssss?) Anyway, you get my drift….I like my kid.

This little one is tiny and perfect. No wrinkles, no scars, and boasting a head so full of hair it would make most adult men envious. I held her as she slept and marveled at the expressions that crossed her face; a smile, a sudden frown. What could that naïve young mind be smiling or frowning at? She has experienced nothing, so has no comparisons. The smile surely must be about feeding….and the frown about….not being fed? What else is there to react to on what can only be a clean slate? (ok, maybe pooping)

I envy her having the opportunity to create a path, her path. She has a whole world at her disposal. She can be anything she wants to be, and, thanks to a progressive society that respects the rights of women, embraces all races, and supports the liberalization of social and moral attitudes toward sexual orientation, she can do it on her own terms. (ok, we’re not totally there yet but we’re miles ahead of where we were) Suffice it to say she will have choices. She will have friends of various ethnic backgrounds and genders, and she will embrace them all, because this is the world she will grow up in. How lucky is she?

This little girl won’t experience racism or hate or judgement, in her early years. It’s only when she starts school and is out in the world, exposed to others, that she may see what no one should see. She will witness anger, and pain, and sadness, and fear. For this very brief period her family will protect her from life’s harshness, but this will not be a permanent shield because she is like all of us, a child of the world, and once she moves beyond the role of observer she will become a person of influence. We all are. We just ‘choose’ our level of impact.

My little girl has a bright future. She has a family that adores her (even when she poops) and a safe and loving environment to grow up in. She will have opportunities for growth and education denied to many, in other parts of the world, and she will be taught the value of this privilege. And in return she will be learn to speak with love, listen with patience, and act with compassion, because this is the world she is meant to grace. Lucky world!