This is kind of a personal post, but I’m feeling like I need to get to sharing on my blog again so I can print it and remember some things forever…because I’m rather prone to forgetting, like, everything right now.
Back when I was still blogging on a regular basis, I would sometimes get comments on a particular post. Most of these comments were nice. Some were funny. And rarely, some were downright MEAN.
Like the guy who told me that my blog was a waste of internet space. That my life was pathetic, and if he had a life as useless and worthless as mine, that he would “off” himself to save the world from stupid, internet info wasting blogs like mine.
But that’s not the sad part.
Not even close.
The sad part, the really sad and pathetic part is that I believed him.
I started to look at my blog and picking it apart.
“Wow, I post a LOT about my kids…who else in the whole freakin world wants to see that many photos of someone else’s kids?”
“I guess chickens don’t make anyone happy like they make me happy. What the heck is wrong with me that I like stupid, smelly chickens?”
“Why would ANYONE want goats? Lame, Sarah. Really lame.”
“Nobody wants to know what grows in your sad little backyard garden. There are veggies in every store everywhere!!!”
“Who eats quail eggs? Gross.”
And I stopped blogging. I stopped sharing stories with family and friends and writing the story of my life where people could see it. And it was a lonely time for me.
So two moves later and a life with FOUR kids and no husband and living back out in Super Rural Ghost Town, AZ, something happened. Small and tiny and seemingly insignificant, it was literally life changing for me.
On a Sunday afternoon when my mom’s store is usually closed, a very sweet couple from back East stopped by the front of the house and were looking around. I came out and asked if they needed anything, and they mentioned that they had really wanted to see the store before they went home the next day. I opened the gate and chatted with them while they admired the goats and shopped in the store and loved every minute of the whole place. They were from New York and were just in awe of the openness of the country around them, and they loved experiencing the goats and chickens in their “real” settings (they had each visited a petting zoo, but had never seen animals actually living in their homes, ha!).
As we were walking back up to the gate, she asked about the animals and I mentioned that I had acquired most of them from rescue situations and that, for some reason, it was nearly impossible for me to see an animal in need and not step in and do something to help it. I have fostered literally hundreds of animals of every type, size, and kind and nursed them back to health and found them homes (or kept them…yes, I admit it!).
Now, in all the years of me doing this, I never remember anyone EVER telling me that what I was doing was a good thing. I heard so many negative comments about the animals I had and the animals I loved that I always felt guilty and bad about wanting to be with animals as much as I did. I mentioned how my husband always says that I have “animal-itus” and can’t stay away from critters and I always just shook my head and said that he was right. There was totally something “wrong” with me and I wasn’t afraid to admit it.
Then this sweet woman stopped and looked me straight in the eye and said, “Well, no, I don’t think that you have animal…whatever it is. You are a nurturer. That’s all. Thats what you are in this life, and this is the role you are set to play. You love to care for and nurture animals. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Then she smiled at me and went out the gate with her husband and drove off down the road with me standing and staring after her with my mouth hanging open.
I was in a daze for the next few hours.
Me? A nurturer?
I have a purpose in this life? I have a talent? A gift? THIS is what I’m supposed to do? There’s not something weirdly wrong with me? (um, don’t answer that one)
YES. I AM an nurturer.
YES. I HAVE a talent.
THIS is what I’m supposed to do.
And I love that about me. I love that chickens and dogs and cats and goats make me happy. I love that the sick, emaciated creatures that I take in look at me with love and adoration in their eyes. I LOVE seeing a dog who was too thin to stand, run across the yard to fetch a ball for the 6millionth time.
It fills me with joy. It totally fulfills me in this life.
Is is an amazing talent? No.
Will I ever get rich from using my gift? Nope.
Will I ever be a famous critter saver? No.
But that really doesn’t matter.
THIS IS WHO I AM.
THIS IS MY LIFE.
And no matter what anyone says at any time in any way with whatever words they choose, you can NOT change that because…
I am happy with ME and the life that brings me joy in whatever way that is.
And nobody, not even Mr. Crappy Pants Commenter, can change that.