Is that desire so wrong?

Last Saturday, I stood in my underwear (control-top hose included) and tried to pick the perfect outfit for a party. Finally, I chose a cute flowered dress with a blue semi-jacket—my favorite outfit.

I put it on and eyed myself in the mirror. Then I sighed. My cute flowered dress looked cute—just not on me.

I didn't feel beautiful. At all. And all I wanted at that moment was to pull on my sweats and eat a tub of Ben & Jerry's.

As I walked downstairs, my husband whistled. "You look pretty."

"I feel fat and ugly," I huffed. And insecure, I added mentally.

What a stinging comment taught me about my own need for grace

I don't know why the comment stuck. But three days later, it was still working me like a splinter—tiny, painful, and annoying.

It happened when I was at a local coffee shop with married ladies from my church. As a single woman, I always appreciate being invited to join them, but I also fortify myself on the car ride there. Sometimes in this gathering I feel like an outsider—because of either my own insecurities or their remarks. Tonight was the latter.

Finding the meaning in menial tasks

I didn't want the job. Too small. Too menial. Too unimportant. But at my manager's request several weeks ago, taking meeting notes became my new responsibility.

I knew I had no choice; still, I attempted a bargain: I'd record the notes and type them into an accessible computer file in exchange for the assurance they'd be of regular assistance to my coworkers.

I had to make the job at least seem important.

How tapping into their power has transformed me

At the sound of his first word, my throat tightened, and my eyes smarted with tears. I hadn't heard my Norwegian grandfather speak since he'd passed away 30 years ago at age 89.

Yet Grandpa Johnson's voice—and the bittersweet memories it evoked—flooded my life recently during a visit to my parents. As we sat together in their sunroom, Dad revealed he'd "interviewed" his father before his death to preserve precious family stories. "Would you like to hear our conversation?" my father asked tentatively. "Sure, Dad," I replied. So he dug out the old audiotape, plopped it into a tape recorder, then pressed "play."

To inspire you in The TCW Walking Challenge

Walking through my neighborhood the other day, I recalled a quote by Henry David Thoreau I'd recently read: "An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day." Granted, it was 2:30 in the afternoon (I'm not a morning person), but I certainly resonated with the blessing component.

I felt grandness in being part of a long tradition of walkers. And not just walkers, but keen observers who recognize the hidden blessings in simply putting one foot in front of the other.