Compassion and forgiveness are the little mercies
we need to develop while walking through our paths of nurturing.
Recently, I read a book called Little Mercies. It’s the journey of a small child who experiences a great many trials at a very tender age when most children are enjoying and innocently playing with friends and toys. The quote is from the book by Heather Gundenkauf. This child’s social worker is faced with an unspeakable tragedy she’s unable to cope with. Her mother tries to comfort her with these words.
Throughout our lives we’re faced with tragedies far greater than we ever could imagine living or coping with. Somehow, we find a strength deep inside that wraps its arms around us to help us manage to place one foot in front of the other.
All of the painful layers we’ve carefully peeled away, have helped us get attuned with our emotional selves.
We must never stop writing our own story of little mercies. It helps us to be present.
It’s a gift we give to our nurturing selves.
Namaste
I honor the place in you
in which the entire universe dwells.
I honor the place in you
which is of Love, and of Truth,
of Light and of Peace.
When you are in that place in you
and I am in that place in me.
We are One.
Becca hosts Nurturing Thursday
to join in click here
Recently a Puerto Rican restaurant opened in the next town from where I live. Hubby and I stopped in for lunch. The food was outstanding. We asked if they made traditional Christmas foods. When we heard they did we ordered these delicious pasteles. I’ve posted this recipe before but thought there might be someone adventurous who would like to try and make them. Enjoy ….
Me: “Yes, I’d like to make an appointment for a pedicure and manicure with John. A friend had recommended him to me.”
Woman: “Yew, come now.”
Me: “It will take me 20 minutes to get to your shop.”
Woman: “Yew, come nowww. He waiting.”
Me: “OK … see you in a little while.”
~~~~~~~
I drive my short little 20 minutes to the salon.
~~~~~~~
Woman: When I enter the salon, the woman at the front counter says, “Pic a cala.”
Me: I say, “I have my own color.” (thinking – there could be germs on their nail polish.)
Woman: John???? (shouting and unintelligible exchange)
Woman: Pointing, “You go there.”
I make my way to the pedicure chair. This man motions me to sit.
I grab my phone from my purse and, compliantly, I sit.
I place my feet into a warm soothing bath of salts. Now, I’m ready to be pampered.
The young man prepares his pedicure instruments and puts on his gloves.
Shutting the water off he looks up at me.
Him: “Wata ok?”
Me: “Excuse me?”
Him: Pointing, “Wata ok?”
Me: “Yes, its fine.”
The pedicure takes about 40 minutes.
Silence.
There’s never a word exchanged. Hand gestures are the mode of conversation.
Eventually, he looks up and points to the manicure table.
Like a good soldier, I march to my chair and sit.
He begins removing my old nail polish. Tense from all of this silence, I make a silly remark about my worse-for-wear nails due to gardening. He looks up and nods.
Creepy.
Does he hate gardening? Does he feel I’ve entered his silent zone without permission?
Unable to continue in this silent tortuous world I ask, “Do you work everyday?”
Him: “Yeezz”
Me: “When do you go to school?”
Him: Pointing to his salon license he says, “I finith school. Am tech now.”
Me: “I see that your name Van Nac Tan. It doesn’t say John on there.”
Him: “Me John.”
Me: I want to say, ‘No, your license says Van Nac Tan. Is John the translation?’
Him: As if I needed more clarification he says, “I am tirty yeer ol’.”
Me: “Ahhh … but you look so young.”
Him: He sends me a grimace with his eyes and, I’m sure, from under his mask too.
Me: (thinking) I guess he prefers silence.
I decide he’s a man of few words and a man who does not enjoy a compliment.
Before adding my new nail color he hands me the bill.
Him: “Yew pay now. Tip cash only”
Me: (thinking) Do I have cash? I’m a charge card carrying person. You know the one who gets lots and lots of points if you use your charge card for everything. I give him my card and off he goes to run it through. I look in my purse and find my emergency cash stash. Lucky me or him.
He hands me the charge receipt for signing. He takes it and places it in a draw. I give him his tip. He grabs it and again throws it in the draw. Nods a quick, Thack u, I think?
My nails are polished to a glossy shine. I’m directed to the drying area next and, then, he leaves for the back room without a word.
![PR_Pasteles_photograph[1]](https://insidethemindofisadora.files.wordpress.com/2012/12/pr_pasteles_photograph1.gif)
The results: a wearable cowl neck sca
