How trite is it to say, "I love room service"?
As I sit on the eleventh floor of the Grove Hotel after a full day at an intense writing conference, I am thankful above all else for room service.
A dinner of portabello mushroom fries, shrimp cobb salad, and pumpkin cheesecake has brought me back from the brink of starvation.
And the fact that it came right to my door by a smiling valet...well, that is well worth every penny of the added cost tacked on to my room price.
I wonder why I've never taken advantage of room service before. Never once in my life.
I now can say, however, that it is the best invention since the non-stop flight from Salt Lake to Paris--and that blessing has literally changed my life.
But then, so has room service.
The guilt I may or may not feel at leaving the hubs and kids for the weekend was quickly swallowed up in the creamy, smooth cheesecake with raspberry compote.
Nah, there is no guilt. I'm right where I want to be.
Blessings are everywhere, people!
-S
Friday, November 9, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
A State of Mind
I'm not going to start this post by saying, "Wow, I can't believe how long it's been since I've blogged." This opening sentence--or a variation of it--is how most of my journal entries have been started over the last 20 years. Aside from being overused, the sentence isn't really that interesting and doesn't garner a lot of reader confidence, so I will open with something more catchy.
How about: "I'm back, and still counting my blessings?"
No, this feels a bit too goody-two-shoes. And it might, too, conjure up horror movie images in which the creepy villain pops out at inopportune times with lines like, "I'm back...." Pollyanna and the Poltergeist? No thanks. I'm shooting for something catchy here, not disturbing.
What about: "So much has happened to me since last I wrote. I don't know where to start?"
No good. This missive not only turns off a reader, it makes a writer sigh heavily in near exhaustion at the thought of having to go back nine months and recount all the events she has failed to blog about--whether or not they would be of interest to her one follower.
What I will say then is this: "Spring is busting out all over."
While it may not be original, it is truly apt--and I'm not only talking about crocuses.
I have experienced a rebirth. A renewal. Even a rejuvenation within my soul ever as welcome as the first whiff of April lilacs.
I am happy. I am content. I am filled with faith and joy.
My heart is brimming with gratitude for a good husband, great kids, faithful friends, new carpet, a kitchen redo, opportunities to serve, and healthy risks that yank me out of my comfort zone.
And just as the tiny pink blossoms on my apple trees will one day produce tangible, heavy fruit, so too will the gratitude I feel alter the course of my future. Gratitude is not stagnant, it is a starting-point emotion. To be grateful is to do something about your blessed abundance.
I will therefore cut away the winter-kill in both my Hostas and my heart.
Let the sunshine of Spring heal my Sorrel and my soul.
And may the light and life of a rebirth be just as powerful a propeller in November as it is in May.
Spring is, after all, a state of mind.
Sylva
How about: "I'm back, and still counting my blessings?"
No, this feels a bit too goody-two-shoes. And it might, too, conjure up horror movie images in which the creepy villain pops out at inopportune times with lines like, "I'm back...." Pollyanna and the Poltergeist? No thanks. I'm shooting for something catchy here, not disturbing.
What about: "So much has happened to me since last I wrote. I don't know where to start?"
No good. This missive not only turns off a reader, it makes a writer sigh heavily in near exhaustion at the thought of having to go back nine months and recount all the events she has failed to blog about--whether or not they would be of interest to her one follower.
What I will say then is this: "Spring is busting out all over."
While it may not be original, it is truly apt--and I'm not only talking about crocuses.
I have experienced a rebirth. A renewal. Even a rejuvenation within my soul ever as welcome as the first whiff of April lilacs.
I am happy. I am content. I am filled with faith and joy.
My heart is brimming with gratitude for a good husband, great kids, faithful friends, new carpet, a kitchen redo, opportunities to serve, and healthy risks that yank me out of my comfort zone.
And just as the tiny pink blossoms on my apple trees will one day produce tangible, heavy fruit, so too will the gratitude I feel alter the course of my future. Gratitude is not stagnant, it is a starting-point emotion. To be grateful is to do something about your blessed abundance.
I will therefore cut away the winter-kill in both my Hostas and my heart.
Let the sunshine of Spring heal my Sorrel and my soul.
And may the light and life of a rebirth be just as powerful a propeller in November as it is in May.
Spring is, after all, a state of mind.
Sylva
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Contentment breeds contentment....
...and contentment is what I'm after.
Blessed is he who is content with his situation.
Contentment is an attractive color on anyone.
He who is content is fortunate above all else.
Contentment begets contentment.
It's not that I don't want a lot;
or hope for more;
or dream of more.
But giving thanks for what I've got
makes me so much happier than keeping score.
Instead of wishing for a new house, a chance to move, a fresh start, I am focusing on only one thing these days: Contentment.
With the housing market the way it is, with the federal budget on the verge of collapse, the Leining family will stay put for now. And we will be happy about it.
There's no need to feel sorry for us - this was mutually agreed upon by all members involved. Our dreams of moving on are merely hibernating for the time being. They are still alive and breathing, only for now they are breathing the warm, cozy air of contentment.
Plus, our friends here are more valuable than the net proceeds we may or may not pocket from the sale of our house.
Some things are just more important. And I, for one am choosing to see them today. While maybe not full-on rose colored, the view from the land of contentment is at least tinged with pink.
May you see blessings all around you this day is my wish,
Sylva Leining
Blessed is he who is content with his situation.
Contentment is an attractive color on anyone.
He who is content is fortunate above all else.
Contentment begets contentment.
It's not that I don't want a lot;
or hope for more;
or dream of more.
But giving thanks for what I've got
makes me so much happier than keeping score.
Instead of wishing for a new house, a chance to move, a fresh start, I am focusing on only one thing these days: Contentment.
With the housing market the way it is, with the federal budget on the verge of collapse, the Leining family will stay put for now. And we will be happy about it.
There's no need to feel sorry for us - this was mutually agreed upon by all members involved. Our dreams of moving on are merely hibernating for the time being. They are still alive and breathing, only for now they are breathing the warm, cozy air of contentment.
Plus, our friends here are more valuable than the net proceeds we may or may not pocket from the sale of our house.
Some things are just more important. And I, for one am choosing to see them today. While maybe not full-on rose colored, the view from the land of contentment is at least tinged with pink.
May you see blessings all around you this day is my wish,
Sylva Leining
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