Is a weakness

a weakness, or is it just an area for improvement? Maybe it actually is

an "undeveloped strength." Seems a weakness by any other name

is not necessarily a weakness these days.

Actually, I

was informed by my sons, about 15 years ago, that my strongest strengths

were also my greatest weaknesses. It took some time for them to drive

home the truths that supported their opinions.

Once I had

been made to see their points and they did not let up until I began to

see then I started to work on several areas of my life. More than a decade

later, I think I can now say that most of my strengths are no longer weaknesses.

Don't let me

lose you today. I'm going to do a bit of rambling. Think with me.

What are your

strongest suits? Better yet, what is your very strongest point?

Just pick one.

Has it always

been your best attribute? Have you always used it in moderation? With

some degree of discretion? With great awareness of how using it affected

you and those around you?

Have you acquired

tremendous knowledge in some area or developed some trait that sets you

apart? Consider how you have used your various talents, your different

strengths, and especially look at that strongest suit.

Did the exploitation

of that suit ever lead you into some degree of over-exhaustion, even burnout?

Mentally? Emotionally? Physically?

I'll bet you

are not a whole lot different from me. For me it was empathy. I always

have been able to feel another person's pain. I eventually learned there

was a limit to how much I could take in mentally or emotionally, without

starting to breakdown physically.

That's why

I so love living out in the middle of nowhere now with woods all around

me, and I deeply appreciate the opportunity to work from home. As a writer

and editor I am much healthier and happier.

That does not

mean I was not a good nurse. I was a very good nurse. I just could never

"develop a duck's back" which is what I was told, on more than

one occasion, that I needed. I was described as "sensitive to a fault."

The truth is

I didn't know how to just let the river of life flow freely. I wanted

to build dams and reroute water. I didn't know how to just bloom where

I was planted. I wanted to make gardens in barren places. I wanted to

fix everything. I took all the pain and misery to heart. I didn't know

how to go with the flow.

Now? I'm still

empathetic. Maybe even more so. I'm also deeply sensitive and very intuitive.

For instance, a couple of weeks ago my little voice said to go look at

the birds.

I know, this

one is a real tangent, but go with me.

You see, two

sparrows were raising babies in a flower pot I have on the back porch.

On one other occasion I had taken a flashlight and peaked into the dark

nest. I have learned to listen to my voice, so I rushed to get the flashlight,

opened the back door, and stepped out onto the porch.

This time I

did not need the light.

I froze in

my tracks, as first one, then two, then three, and finally, a fourth tiny

sparrow emerged from the nest and waddled off to the end of the porch

where nervous parents talked them into talking their first flight..

I don't know

that I have ever felt so loved. As I stood still, absorbing fully the

joy of the moment, I was amazed to realize how that same voice that always

warns me of danger and tells me when to act and not act and directs me

in ways I cannot even describe yep, that very same voice had told me to

go look at the birds at the exact moment they were emerging from their

nest.

Repeatedly,

I had thought to myself how awesome it would be to be on the porch when

that moment came. But I was not on the porch; I was at my computer. Still,

the voice spoke.

And that brings

me