soft hearted me

I have a soft heart.  This should come as no surprise to those who know me.  It can be a good thing, and it can also be a not so good thing, depending on how you look at it.

When I was little, I had HUGE feelings for my stuffed animals and toys.   I was sure they were real, and I just felt bad for them whenever I left or whenever they looked like they were uncomfortable.  Toy story three is a horrible show for me.
 I ALWAYS felt bad for animals, and still do.  I cannot stand going to any kind of adoption place or shelter, because my heart breaks into a million pieces.  Stray cats I saw on the road, a bird hit by a car, and so on, would just make me feel awful, and it still does.
  In fact, when we lived in California, we drove up on a bird that had been hit.  I freaked out until Ben turned around, we grabbed the bird and brought it home.  It died that night, and I felt bad. I think Ben was relieved.
When I was younger, after a rain storm, I would run outside and try to save all of the worms before they dried up.  I would never smash a spider, and when my dog had 10 puppies, I placed the runt of the litter in my room in my dolls bed and bottle fed it.  It passed away, and I still have the picture I drew of it with big dried tear stains on it, in my journal.

I get a huge pit in my stomach when I see homeless people.  Normally I will give them any food I may have on me, or a few bucks, but there are also the few times I am too scared, and I just drive by.  I end up thinking about them for the rest of the day though, and feeling horrible for them.

I went to Ecuador in 2001 and spent four months helping in the orphanages there.  I cried and cried and cried for those beautiful, innocent children.  And no matter how many hugs I gave, how many meals I fed them or how much love I gave, my heart just broke.  I wanted to adopt them all.  I left a piece of my heart in Ecuador the day tearfully got on the plane and flew back home, and that piece remains with those children to this day. Those children were ingrained into my heart, and have never left.

I had big plans on becoming a nurse, so in high school, I got my CNA.  During my nursing home rotations, I would just feel terrible for the elderly people that had no visitors.  I would sneek into their rooms often and just talk to them, or with them.  My heart just broke for them.

I ended up going into Sports Medicine instead of nursing.   Either way, I LOVE the medical field and helping people. 

I have to force myself not to look too much in natural disasters, or stories of shooters killing people, because it will effect me for days.  I always end up looking anyway, and crying for the loss and hurt of  many people must be feeling.

Another thing about me, is that I am an introvert.  This, mixed with a soft heart can be confusing.  I see people, and I feel for them and want to help, but I also worry about stepping on people's toes or getting in the way.

One of my resolutions this year, is to let my soft heart work for the good, and do something about the feelings I feel. Not just feel them and be too scared to do anything about it.

This morning, was my first time doing this, this year. 
Yesterday, as I drove past our house that we are building, I saw all of those guys out there framing it.  It was COLD!  The temps have been hovering below or around freezing for a few weeks now.  I saw those guys, working so incredibly hard, and I felt terrible for them.
I know it is their job, and we are paying them.  They are probably used to working in this weather, and don't expect much, but I haven't been able to get them off my mind.

So, this morning I baked 20 cinnamon rolls, placed them on paper plates, loaded the kids in the car, blasted the heater on the cinnamon rolls to keep them warm, and drove to our house on the way to taking Mary to school.

I was NERVOUS!  I know, I know, no big deal.  But it was to me.  What if they think I am weird.  What if no one is there.  What if the cinnamon rolls are doey (is that even a word) and I become a joke to them.  What if I make someone sick...and so on.

But, I drove up to the house anyway.  There were three workers huddled in a little pick up truck, trying to get some warmth from the heater.  They were waiting for the rest of the crew to arrive.  I pulled up next to them, and motioned for them to come to the car.  They looked like little kids caught doing something bad.  I wonder if they thought I was going to complain.

I thanked them for working on our home in this miserable weather, and told them to take the cinnamon rolls and share them with the other guys when they got there.  They had these sheepish grins on their faces and thanked me a bunch.

I drove away feeling awkward, but I also felt proud of myself for acting on my feelings of sympathy and wanting to do some good.  Their grins on their faces made it all worth it.

So there it is, thing one...done!  Go Becky go.