My Ink Dance

Discovering Extraordinary Grace in an Ordinary Life

Carrying An Empty Basket

We have new neighbors. And when I say new, I mean new a few months ago. I still haven’t gone over to introduce myself and say welcome to the neighborhood. Even if my neighborhood is a busy through street without a cute little cul-de-sac, I haven’t been very neighborly. But I want to be. There’s only one problem.

 

image credit: uglyducklinghouse.com

image credit: uglyducklinghouse.com

I’m late. I should have done this months ago. The first week they lived across the street I should have brought something over and just said hi. But I waited and now it feels…awkward. Going over there will mean admitting that I could have done better. So I’ve kept pushing it aside. Because I’m not good at this friendly thing.

So maybe that’s two problems.

But I’m tired of it being in the back of my mind. I’m tired of feeling like it’s too late or I’m not enough. It’s a little thing that I’ve let my mind run away with just adding to ever-growing list of flaws I keep rolled up inside. I’ve been letting this thing choose me, and I don’t have to do that anymore.

I’m going to bring an offering.

Yes, that sounds dramatic, but it’s where I’m at.

I went to the store yesterday and bought our favorite cider and cookies. Yes, I could have made them, but I didn’t want the neighbors to worry whether their homemade treats from the crazy neighbor who didn’t come over to begin with were poisonous. So I bought them.

This is my offering. Even though my basket feels far to small and empty, this is what I can give.

And today I’m going to go there with kids and treats in tow to say hello with a much belated welcome and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.

Because even a late offering is better than no offering.


This is part of a series here at My Ink Dance. You can see other posts by clicking the link below!

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About Becky Hastings

I am emotional and logical. I am strong and dependent. I am a juxtaposition of head and heart exploring it all through writing. And in all my mixed-up ways I am loved. I’m here to tell you that you are, too. Just the way you are.

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