Derfwad Manor is seven-and-a-half years old and Mrs. G. often wonders when it's time to let it go. Blogs have seasons and hers has been, with great highs and lows, a lengthy one. This afternoon, she was combing through her archives and came across this post written in November of 2007...
Entries in Blogging (121)
Crowd of women carpenters who work for Government contractors in France
Dear dear Heather,
I am so in awe of your tireless efforts to build a joint for women. Your posts are so raw and honest, as well as highly entertaining - though we've never met, I feel as though I know you. I wonder if you realize the far reaching effects of your collaborations? Something magical happened over the weekend that I'm planning to blog about, but since it started with you, I wanted to share it with you first. Forgive the ramble, as I haven't yet consolidated this into a cohesive story...
My youngest son goes to college on the east coast, and while there, met and started dating a girl who hails from Portland. They've been as inclusive as they could be in meeting and introducing each other's families, considering the distance between us. Though we've not met, I'm Facebook friends with his girlfriend and even with her mother!
Back in February I read the post you shared from Ri-Len Leukens about Women Build 2013. I could relate to her cause, and because of my trust in you, even though I'd never met her, I felt as though I knew her. I wanted to help, but my only connection to the Hillsboro, Oregon area were my son's girlfriend and her mother in Portland.
I took a chance and shared your post with them, but never had any feedback. I just assumed they were too busy, or not interested....
But this weekend, that assumption was blown sky high. I received a lovely private message from my son's girlfriend's mother (this would be so much easier with names). She wanted to thank me. It seems she and her other daughter had been looking for some creative outlet that could also help others, and the Hillsboro Women Build was something they would have never considered if I hadn't brought it to their attention. She, her daughter and some other women were on their way to paint the interior of a home built by women for a woman and her daughter.
It strikes me that you set in motion something that traveled via the Internet, through channels of women's trust, and though not one person in this scenario has ever met in person, there was a collaboration that ultimately provided shelter and safety to a mother and daughter, neither of which any of us will ever likely meet in person either.
There is a story in there, well, a happy ending anyway - I just have to work backward to find the tale!
At any rate, thank you Heather, Mrs. G, Head Derfwad, this is only a small example, on a small scale of what can be accomplished if we lock arms and hearts. Long live the Women's Colony!
Linda Thomas Anderson
P.S. Thanks Ri-Len for sharing the project with us.
Don't flatter yourself that friendship authorizes you to say disagreeable things to your intimates. The nearer you come into relation with a person, the more necessary do tact and courtesy become. Except in cases of necessity, which are rare, leave your friend to learn unpleasant things from his enemies; they are always ready enough to tell them....because they are assholes.
~Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. and Mrs. G.
Photo by Pink Sherbert Photography
It's 7:50pm and Mrs. G. is soon headed for her bed. She's sitting by the fire wondering what she should write, just a little something, a little something that feels right before sleep. She's feeling sentimental and grateful.
This community gives Mrs. G. so much, scattered voices all. She wishes she could rub each of your backs and ask about your day, maybe bring you a cup of tea and a handful of almond thins. She'd like to massage that web of flesh between your thumb and forefinger while you tell her what's on your mind.
Mrs. G. knows that in blogging and, actually, all social networking there are often boundaries not to be crossed or well meaning but empty words of love and light. From day one, Mrs. G. was less interested in shaking hands than giving bear hugs. She was a little clumsy with the lines of demarcation and this hasn't changed. But she would appreciate it if you wouldn't call her late at night and damn her to hell. Unless you really need to, then go right ahead. For you, she'll let it slide. Just say Job is calling and she'll wake up.
One of the best things we can all do for our health is reach out and connect with others, even when we are tired and up to here with the talking and the doing. We need fellowship, we need to feel valued and we need to love and be loved. We need to be brave and ask for what we need. Need to talk? Call Mrs. G. Need to borrow a stretched out $5.99 Old Navy turtleneck? It's yours. Clogs? You don't even need to ask.
It's scary to need and be needed, but not here. The success rate at this joint is in the positive numbers.
Besides Mr. G. and her kids, Mrs. G's biological family is down to two. Thank you for including her in yours. She welcomes all of you into hers.
She promises to pluck your chin hairs if your pluck hers. Pinky swear.
These things matter.
Nighty night pals.
Mrs. G. has written, deleted, written, cursed and deleted. She's temporarily out of even one interesting thing to say. Be patient. But in the meantime, she has a few tricks up her sleeve she hopes you won't mind as they involve you.
Show up tomorrow for Suburban Correspondent and Barb's Slow Cook Thursdays.
And if you have a sec, wiggle your fingers and send Mrs. G. some creative mojo!