Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

So some kid accidentally dropped a dozen eggs all over the floor this morning.

You can just close your lovely eyes and imagine how extraordinarily well that ended.

But one particularly helpful/lazy child (bless him) did up and volunteer himself to make scrambled eggs.

Because, as he elucidated us all, “It won’t take much now — we’re already half way there. And if you don’t mind shells, crumbs and dust bunnies in your eggs — okay, yeah, make that a scrambled crunchy omelet.”

We all passed.

The dog didn’t.

The thermometer read a balmy -7F when our knees creaked out of bed and yessirree, eyeballs froze with the cold on the way out to the barn this morning.

Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

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Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

dirty mirror

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Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

mirror image

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Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

Whooper swan reflection at Welney

Yeah, you know —

It was so cold that the dog almost opted to use the back restroom instead of relieving himself out there in the polar vortex that could suck any unsuspecting canine right into the land of penguins and polar bears.

I slipped on the ice on the back step sometime around sunrise.

So my posterior may or may not now be a precise purple hue and yes’m, we’re thinking all and all, it’s been a pretty mighty fine, memorable start to the day — because honest?  If you can breathe and murmur your thanks, it’s still a mighty good day.

And because the way you live your ordinary days is what adds up to your one extraordinary life, I may or may not have went and stuck a sticky note on that smudged and splattered mirror in the back mudroom, so anyone headed out (and down the deathtrap of those icy back steps) might catch a glimpse of themselves and ask that one question:

“If the Real You bumped into a Mirror of You today — would Real You like Mirror You?”

“You know,” — I ask the kid scrambling up the last dozen (undropped-still-intact-until-we-intentionally-decide-to-crack-them) eggs —

“so, if you bumped into an exact soul, body, mind, heart clone of you — would Real You like Mirror You?”

Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

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Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

Day 78/365 - Love note left on the mirror of the bathroom

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Dear Real You — Meet the Mirror of You #RealYouMeetMirrorYou

Because, sweetheart, you can go ahead and think bacon and eggs every day are as predictable as the sun rising willing in the east, but the most predictable thing about a day is that:

Somebody’s going to be late on you today, somebody’s going to interrupt you, somebody’s going to lose something on you, somebody’s going to say the wrong thing to you, somebody’s going to let you down, —

and every kid’s got to ask, every mom’s got to know, every woman’s got to decide, and every man’s got to determine:

If the Real You bumped into a Mirror of You today — would Real You like Mirror You?  Would you feel understood —  or undervalued?  
Would you feel special — or especially criticized? 
Would you feel deeply heard — or slightly hurt?

Would Mirror You practice their faith and the Ministry of Presence and give you The Gift of Really Listening —

or Practice their Own Importance and all this trendy rage of Being Stressed and give you a knot of anxiety?

Would your presence be a gift  — or a grief?

Would Real You want more time with Mirror You — or less time?

Would Real You want to be like Mirror You — or not?

Because the thing is?

The Real You meets Mirror You every morning first thing. So what if you decided first thing to be kind — the kind of person you’d love to face?

Those words right there, stuck right there on the end of my tongue —

and that sticky note with a heart and that string of questions now on every mirror in the house —

light in a reflection of morning glory…

Like His face smiling on all of ours in this mess of cracked egg shells that somehow isn’t quite as broken as before.

 

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