Just Make It

If you make stuff, life is always interesting. Art, fiber, critters, creation, reading, prayer,serenity, and insanity...this is my way. Maybe it is yours as well.

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I am a Compassionate Companion Of Christ. We are a tiny new order of men and women who pour themselves out in the service of others by walking with them in their difficult journeys. We companion anyone at all, anywhere, who are undergoing the suffering of illness, dying, bereavement, poverty, old age, or hunger. Our job is to see Christ in the suffering and to offer love, dignity, and help where possible in His name. We strive to let them know that they are children of God and that He is with them always regardless of external circumstances. How we do this is the purpose of this blog. Our symbol is the compass, the first part of the word "compassion" and the visible representation of our vocation to serve wherever and whoever we are called to serve.

Friday, 1 April 2011

You Can't Have Everything

Well you can theoretically but you can't have it all at once.  Even if you could, you couldn't use it all at once so what would be the point?  I wonder at those who have huge houses with multitudes of rooms stuffed with incredible objects and exquisite furniture, yet the owners are always 'out' enjoying photo ops etc.  Why all the houses and all those rooms?  Most of them are never seen let alone used.  Why?  Is it just so they can say they have a huge house paid for by a huge salary?  

We had a fairly small house at one time, with three bedrooms, a living/dining combination, a kitchen (eat-in), two baths, and a small basement.  It was too much.  There was only the two of us and our two dogs.  The living/dining room looked pretty but we were rarely in it except when the Queen dropped by for tea or some similar social occasion.  The basement collected junk by an apparent self-propagating mechanism.  The third bedroom was another collect-all.  In other words, spaces we didn't use became storage for stuff we didn't use.
It gave me a headache.
We sold the place and moved to a two bedroom apartment.  Even then there was too much stuff and we spent five years whittling down the mountains until we achieved a streamlined, comfortable, but manageable lifestyle.
Now we live in a slightly smaller place and we have our lives organized and headache-free. It takes constant vigilance though as that mechanism mentioned above tends to kick in at a moment's notice and piles of things start erupting like zits throughout the place.

All this leads to the title.  I have always wanted my own motorcycle.  I rode when a youngster and wanted my own little vehicle so badly.  My parents were adamant that such a thing would never enter my life.  The dream continued throughout marriage, children, work, debts, home buying and the usual flotsam of Western hemispherical life.  
Now in our empty nest years, I thought "why the heck not?"..

I bought a sweet little electric motor driven EMMO.  I was thrilled and could hardly wait for decent weather to get out on it.
That day arrived this past Wednesday and the flaw in my thinking became immediately apparent.

My body has not kept pace with my dreams.  It has stubbornly aged.  Riding a motorbike, even a little puttputt requires a level of agility that my hips, back, arms, and legs haven't manifested in years.  This is going to take some time and practice.  It might even take some *gasp* strengthening exercise.  Crud.  All I wanted to do was have my own wheels when Studly was at work with the car.  I didn't want to WORK at anything.  I wanted easy.
Why is it that nothing is ever...easy that is?

Long story short - I have a motorbike.  Now to ride it without killing myself or causing mayhem on the roads of my fair city.

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