Yesterday I had a shame attack. I woke up after a long night's sleep, recovering from leading a five-day retreat, and found a post on Facebook from an angry participant who called me rude and suggested that I was a fraud.
Yesterday, during a break from the nonstop snowstorms here in the Northeast, I strapped on snowshoes and went outside for a walk. As I trudged through the powdery, fresh snow, I made a spontaneous decision to dedicate my walk to forgiveness.
Last week’s blog generated a lot of mail and I value and appreciate the feedback and shared stories I received from so many of you. A few men wrote in wondering if Michael had given his permission for me to publish the story and I quickly wrote back to say yes, most definitely.
It's a snowy day here in New England and I'm sitting in my livingroom watching Poupon run from window to window trying to catch the big, fluffy snowflakes falling outside just beyond his reach. He's determined to keep at it despite the fact that he never gets the prize. Poor dear...