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Thursday, May 18, 2017

Don't Compare Your Beginning to Someone Else's Ending

miniature rose bud- last week
We moved to this historic Southern town last October.  We've been here 7 months or so, now.  I still feel new to the community, new to our neighborhood, new to our daughter's school, new to my job, new to our church, new to the friendships we are developing here.  I still use GPS to get most places.  I don't have an eye doctor yet.  The dentist that gets the best reviews can't fit us in until August.  I still can't figure out how to change my address for my bank account.  (Seriously, I've tried.)  And is the Pep Boys down the street going to put transmission fluid in my oil tank accidentally?  Should I try the local mechanic instead?  Some days I feel like I shouldn't be approaching forty still unsure of where to get my car's oil changed.

Also, my daughter's best friend that she met at school this past year just found out she is moving out of state this summer.  So now my poor sweetie has to navigate losing yet another BFF, which breaks my heart, as most of those losses of friends have been on our account, since we've moved 4 times in her 10 years, poor dear.

And it's hard not to compare myself to the families around us, who seem to be so integrated into the community, so supported in their friend groups, so active and involved in their schools, so settled and competent in their careers.

I forget that all of this takes time.  It doesn't happen overnight.  Or even in a year.

miniature rose  - today
Today, I was watering the plants in my tiny yard (a.k.a., my diminutive garden, as the fancy design book that describes our historic home calls it, haha!).  And I noticed that my miniature roses and Gerbera daisies are starting to bloom.

I had noticed the tiny rosebuds and the tiny furry sprig of the unfurling baby daisy last week.  And now, they're already completely different.  And in a few days or a week, they'll be even more amazing.

I have to remember not to compare my newly planted, timidly budding, slightly unfurling self with those hardy, veteran plants I see all around me.  I mean, really, that fuzzy curled up daisy is pretty horrific compared to the proud daisy I know it will be one day.  I can't compare the new sprig with the finished product.   It takes time to unfurl and straighten up.  Time to settle in, to fit in, to bloom where you're planted.

And so, I will continue to plug away at making our life here a good and beautiful one.  And to notice tiny signs of progress.  Because progress is beautiful, too.

Gerbera Daisy shoot- last week
Gerbera daisy unfurling slowly - today

When have you felt the urge to compare your beginning to someone else's ending?  What has helped you recenter yourself in those situations?