"Open the doors, Nancy!"

We had planned to get to the grocery early today. All bundled and ready to go, I sat on the couch waiting for Daved to finish folding the clothes (the angel that he is). It was just before 8am, he was watching TCM, and the movie, "Pollyanna" was about to start. I hadn't seen it since I was a kid, so I played with the thought of staying put to watch it. Grocery... old movie... grocery....ok...old movie it is! So off came the scarf and coat, and we settled into the snow-flurried morning with Hayley Mills and Jane Wyman.
   I was surprised at how much I was enjoying the movie, as I'm not one to watch most movies more than once. At one point, I noticed some sniffling sounds coming from the other couch. Ok, good, so I wasn't the only one.
   "Pollyanna" is a story about optimism, but for me, it was more of a story about inspiration and how it moves between people. At one point in the movie, Jane Wyman, who plays the intimidating auntie, must make a choice between (what I saw as) control and allowance, love and fear. Would she allow the inspiration all around her to move through her or would she cling to her illusion of control?
   "Open the doors, Nancy," she said.
    What a wonderful little sentence! I'm so "glad" that I allowed myself to set aside the grocery plan and stay and watch this movie. I think that "Open the doors, Nancy" might be my mantra for the coming year. New Year's resolutions don't do much for me, but I will adopt a good mantra once in a while:)
   We did go to the store, the plan being to make a big bunch of veggie lasagna. We had more veggies than could probably fit into our pans, and I always feel confused when I try to remember which layers go in what order. I'm reading the box, and fearful that all the ingredients that lay before me will never fit in to those pans. If I had been on my own, I would have done the safe thing, but there was Daved egging me on to put more stuff in there. I tried to argue about the mess it would make, and what it might waste, and we would have to open another bag of cheese..blah blah...and he could have easily let me win the argument. But somewhere there was Aunt Polly whispering, "Open the doors, Nancy." I heard her. I gave into D's playful badgering, stepped aside and let him at it.
   As I sat with Aunt Polly's words, I watched as he put more and more into those pans, put them in the oven, cleaned up the kitchen and left me to write this entry. It doesn't matter now if the pans overflow, if they even taste good, whatever. It was fun just to open the doors and allow.