I recently had a 'moment' that has stayed with me so I decided to share it.
As you have probably gathered from my meanderings, I am one who has HUGE hang ups about wasting ANYTHING.
I am certain that it is rooted in my upbringing. We never went totally without but we did have to really watch what we spent and how we spent it and we never wasted anything....food wise or money wise or clothes wise or ANYTHING WISE!
I took that into adulthood in a way that I am attempting to NOT completely drive those unfortunate enough to be around me with now!
I mean, I KNOW that the food HERE is not going to go THERE and that no matter how many pennies I save, there will still be penniless people and I KNOW that my only buying sale items does not clothe others....
...BUT, something deep seated and emotional happens within me when I waste ANYTHING.
Which brings me to my 'moment'.
Recently, I had to leave the cottage and not come back for awhile. We were not going to be where there was refrigeration so I had to get rid of food and there was a gallon milk jug with plenty milk in it.
I tried to get ANYONE to take it but they wouldn't so I had to dump it down the drain.
When I did that (it sounds crazy, I know), I honestly had to swallow back tears.
I realized that I was, indeed, crying over spilled milk!
The old saying said that there is no sense in it but there I was crying?!?
And ever since then I have tried to make sense of it.
So I looked up the origin of the phrase, "No sense crying over spilled milk".
In the days when people believed strongly in fairies, it was common to lay out a shrine for them, consisting of small quantities of food and drink; particularly of their favorite drink, milk. Whenever milk was spilled, it was considered to be nothing more than a little extra offering to the fairies, and nothing to worry about.
Interesting, eh? I don't believe in real fairies but I believe in real children and I sure like the concept of spilled milk being a little extra offering; as I pondered that, for whatever reason, an image came to mind...or many images.
The 100 plus fairies in the refugee camp in Zaire who surrounded me with empty tin cups/bowls/anything because ONLY if they had cups/bowls/ANYTHING could they receive milk.
Of all the little fairies of Africa and Haiti and Nicaragua and Grand Rapids and Dominican Republic who have surrounded my heart and deserve to have a shrine built for them and who deserve that special offering of a little spilled milk.
I mean, I KNOW that the food HERE is not going to go THERE and that no matter how many pennies I save, there will still be penniless people and I KNOW that my only buying sale items does not clothe others....
...BUT, something deep seated and emotional happens within me when I waste ANYTHING.
Which brings me to my 'moment'.
Recently, I had to leave the cottage and not come back for awhile. We were not going to be where there was refrigeration so I had to get rid of food and there was a gallon milk jug with plenty milk in it.
I tried to get ANYONE to take it but they wouldn't so I had to dump it down the drain.
When I did that (it sounds crazy, I know), I honestly had to swallow back tears.
I realized that I was, indeed, crying over spilled milk!
The old saying said that there is no sense in it but there I was crying?!?
And ever since then I have tried to make sense of it.
So I looked up the origin of the phrase, "No sense crying over spilled milk".
In the days when people believed strongly in fairies, it was common to lay out a shrine for them, consisting of small quantities of food and drink; particularly of their favorite drink, milk. Whenever milk was spilled, it was considered to be nothing more than a little extra offering to the fairies, and nothing to worry about.
Interesting, eh? I don't believe in real fairies but I believe in real children and I sure like the concept of spilled milk being a little extra offering; as I pondered that, for whatever reason, an image came to mind...or many images.
The 100 plus fairies in the refugee camp in Zaire who surrounded me with empty tin cups/bowls/anything because ONLY if they had cups/bowls/ANYTHING could they receive milk.
But I did not HAVE milk.
I went behind a hut then and cried.
Over NO milk to spill.
Of all the little fairies of Africa and Haiti and Nicaragua and Grand Rapids and Dominican Republic who have surrounded my heart and deserve to have a shrine built for them and who deserve that special offering of a little spilled milk.
But don't get it.
Instead, this is their 'shrine' and their 'offering'.
Instead...look closely at the little fairy in the front... this is their 'milk'.
THATS why I cry over spilled milk.
Now it makes sense to me.
Even though it makes no sense at all.
THATS why I cry over spilled milk.
Now it makes sense to me.
Even though it makes no sense at all.
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