ADMITTING TALENTS
Words coming out of my mouth surprised me the other day. I was in the entrance of a book store, looking at a collection of adult coloring books. A woman was standing there also, trying to decide if she wanted to buy a book, commit herself to coloring and trying to decide what materials she wanted to use. I shared my experience. She thought coloring might help with her anxiety.
At my daughter’s retreat in the Fall, I saw a group of women enjoying coloring, sitting at a table — using colored pencils. Shopping for Christmas presents, a selection of coloring books caught my attention. I bought a different book for two of my daughters, then bought a book so I could play too. I wanted to include tools so they could color right away. I bought 3 sets of markers. I was very happy with the deep color on the page — I WAS VERY UNHAPPY when I noticed the color soaked through to the other side. I returned two sets of markers to the store.
Next I tried crayons but once again I was unhappy with the results. Third try was colored pencils — I bought a set of 24 pencils. I was happy with the finished effect. When I paint, I often mix my own colors, or add white to get different shades. Having only 24 colors that I couldn’t mix was too confining. Thankfully our son had a big set of colored pencils that he shared. His set has more than six shades of green — just what I needed for coloring a garden that had many different leaves.
So when I was talking to the woman about coloring, I shared my experience. I also mentioned that I was a painter — those words, coming out of my mouth, surprised me. I usually don’t admit to having a special talent.
That isn’t the first time this week that my mouth opened to share something about myself. In this case I wouldn’t call it a talent. I accompany my husband to an exercise class at the Veteran’s clinic he attends. Recently a new person joined our group — it was his first class. And the class was more energetic than most. I was wearing my watch that measures my heart rate — I have trouble finding my pulse — and the reading was over 120. I couldn’t help but notice the rapid breathing of our new member — my mouth opened — words came out cautioning him to be careful — rest if he needed to, we didn’t want him to collapse onto the floor. Afterwards I explained to one of the volunteers that I can’t help mentioning something when I see or hear something hazardous. After my cautioning words, the volunteers gave him more assistance.
I seem to have become grandmother to the world.
Wandering With Spirit 