Unexpected feedback

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Today it has been dull, it rained, the wind has blown in gusts, and the sun has shone and is shining still. I didn’t really know if the installation was a good idea or not, especially since the papers won’t last if they get wet. But I went out anyway when the rain broke and the sun came out and it was invigorating.

And this moment signifies the turning point, from creative idea to purpose. Because as I continued to walk and hang up little slips of paper with little bits of poetry on them, suddenly these boys rode up to me.

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They seemed friendly enough, so I said;

Hi, I’m just hanging up some poetry.

Oh yes, we know, they said, we’ve found about five of them already.

Oh, I said. I’ve hung about 20 of them around here.

Well then we are going to go find some more, said the older one, no more than 10 or 12.

I was flabbergasted and amazed as I imagined these young boys finding (and reading!!!) poetry at their age! What do I know, but I certainly didn’t think they’d be interested. I was completely enthralled by them, but didn’t want to get all sugary and scare them so I asked if I could take their photo and they agreed.

On I went, heading home, a couple more poems in my hands. By the time I reached the end of the road, suddenly they were beside me again on their bikes. I jumped.

Sorry, he said, I didn’t mean to scare you.

That’s OK, I said.

And then he said;

Thanks for the wonderful adventure!

WOW!!!! And I may have sounded a just a tiny bit gushy when I said (with what I imagine was a huge Cheshire cat smile on my face);

It was really nice to meet you guys today, and you really made my day, and thank you for looking for my poems.

Truth is I felt like crying, like singing, and I think I may have floated back up the road to the house with his words playing over and over again in my mind. Wow, finding my poetry was an adventure.!?! I never would have thought that. Thank you, boys, thank you so so much! What kind of parents raise these kind of boys? What a joy! What a refreshing connection!

Here are some photos of some of the other poems still out there…but you’ll have to hurry if you’d like to have an adventure too, because the wind is picking up again.

This poet’s heart feels particularly fond of boys today.

On purpose,

Lesley-Anne

My love language is bread and butter…

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This letter is meant as a reminder, first to me, then to anyone like me, who questions the validity and impact of their life purpose. Choosing the poets way is not often in the spotlight, but rather in half light and shadow. Yet it brings me alive, somehow I know I’m about what I should be about, and God is gracious enough to offer me bread crumbs along the way that affirm my heading. Not everyday, but often, and just when I’m wondering why I’m bothering, someone shows up, says something, confirms the way for me.

Here’s a note for those other days;

Dear Lesley-Anne, dear one,

So don’t be discouraged. You may not be the up front mass appeal type. Don’t feel insignificant. Every thing you do, counts. You have to press in to what you know, do what you have been given to do, with passion, just do it. While you waste time and look at others and tally how many they have impacted, instead just say, good for them. And continue to do what you know YOU are to DO. Walk the dog. Send the email. Say hello. Say thank you. Bake the cookies. Help the helpless. Smile. Hug. Listen. Speak. Take a photo. Paint something. Write something. Post something. Sew something. Ask God to increase your opportunity, your creativity, your energy, your love. Nothing, no NOTHING is wasted.

Live like you believe what you have to do counts. Because it does. Nobody else is going to convince you of this. You have to tell yourself. There may be affirmations from time to time, there may be verses in the Good Book that buoy your spirits and set you going, but for the most part, you have to get going.

Sometimes, when you feel what you are doing counts for nothing (no matter how hard you try to not feel this way), you will be given a gift of knowing it does matter, to someone. Someone will tell you so. Be grateful, be oh so grateful to hear. Tuck these words away for the days you aren’t certain. Because the days will come.

Believe anyway. Every life you touch matters.

SDG

p.s. Yesterday I received a loaf of bread. A lovely homemade, salt topped rye dropped off at my door by a neighbour in thanks for my neighbourhood illumination installation ~ and the poem that touched her heart. Unexpected joy, my love language happens to be bread. How did she know this, I wonder? So I slice off a big chunk, butter it, taste the joy of the moment, the love.

And in the end, love is all that matters,

Lesley-Anne