Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘gratitude’

Dancing in Heaven by Christine Grote: Inspiration Touches Home

Posted in book review, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 12, 2016| 2 Comments »

Be who you are. / Give what you have.  (Rose Ausländer )

 I watch my precious six-year-old Ella in Occupational therapy as she threads the letters to her name through a fluorescent green pipe cleaner. She recognizes the letters—she has been reading for more than a year. But she struggles through fine motor skills exercises because of her small hands and shortened fingers. typical for persons with Down syndrome.

At times she breaks away and puts on a show, her head between her knees, a look-at-me-I’m-cute expression on her face. I remain calm without reacting, showing no censure. Only what I hope is a you-can-do-it look. The OT is in charge. And she encourages Ella. With both experience and love.

And I realize how much I treasure my granddaughter because another image of someone with handicaps far more severe, appears in my mind. Her name is Diane Smith. I have never met her except through the written word, Dancing in Heaven, a sister’s memoir by Christine M. Grote.

The book is available through Amazon.

front cover

dancing-in-heaven cover

When Diane was born young Christine had difficulty saying her name. Diane became Annie. In the 1950’s diagnostic skills were primitive. And Annie and her family went through hell as the frightening news appeared. Annie was seriously brain-damaged. She would never walk, talk, live a normal life.

Through Christine’s sensitive, never-glossed-over memories about her sister’s life, Annie becomes real.  Beautiful. An angel spirit in a broken body. Yes, I suggest a box of tissues nearby. But I also recommend absorbing every word.

 Then, perhaps, the next time a man, woman, or child appears bound to a wheelchair at the mall or some other public place, that individual won’t seem either frightening or repulsive. The natural response will be an ability to look the person in the eye and see a unique spirit, perhaps someone with far more courage than many people could fathom.

the author, Christine M. Grote

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

Read Full Post »

This Suffering Tree Reminds Me of My Friend

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on May 5, 2016| 2 Comments »

The people who help me find my courage are not the ones who swoop in to save the day. They’re the ones who sit with me in the fear puddle and hold my hand while my knees shake. Here’s to the hand-holders. (Nanea Hoffman)

Our blue spruce tree needs a few limbs removed. The tree is being treated for spider mites and a variety of other ailments. Spikes that contain healing potions lead into the ground.

I watch the goldfinch, sparrow, and purple finch at the bird feeder. I have no idea how many have passed through blue spruce’s branches in its forty years in our yard. The number doesn’t matter. My husband and I don’t want to lose our bed-and-breakfast for birds. Even if the squirrels take advantage and eat sumo-wrestler-sized portions of feed. Cats watch and wait for slower flyers. Cooper hawks attack sparrows. Life is not perfect. Anywhere.

As I enter the house, my arms laden with groceries, I notice dead limbs. The word amputate comes to mind. A conversation I had at the store returns in my memory as if it is happening now:

“Terry, hi!”

I stop studying the varieties of paper products and turn around. I see a friend I haven’t seen in eight months. She has been through two rounds of chemo and one course of radiation for breast cancer.

“How are you? I have thought about you so many times.”

“I’m doing okay.” She pulls back a section of her scarf. “See. My hair is growing back in.” She reaches for my hand.

An employee comes by to check something in the aisle. I move to give her room, but don’t let go of my friend’s hand. The warmness of her being washes through me. And I don’t know who is offering whom courage.

She talks about the experience of chemo without putting glossy euphemisms on it. Yet, she is accepting. And hopeful. I have no idea how much time passes and don’t care.

I may have remembered everything on my list. Then again, I could have forgotten an essential item for tomorrow evening’s meal. It won’t matter. Something else will do. Larger matters surround me. Another friend is beginning a second fight against breast cancer. A neighbor lost her husband.

The bare branches will be gone soon. The tree will survive.  I lent my car to a family member this week. She needs it more than I do right now. I used my husband’s car for the weekly grocery trip. Suddenly the car loss appears trivial. The time I have been given to care for at-home chores seems essential. Basic. I’ve been neglecting some core needs. It is time to face them.

The tree reaches into the sky. My friend’s head shows tiny gray stubble. And today begins another day. No promises, but plenty of both sun and fear puddles. And I am grateful to join friends through both.

closeup blue spruce

 

 

Read Full Post »

One Oops Offers a Chance for Gratitude

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on April 28, 2016| 3 Comments »

Be content with what you have, rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking the whole world belongs to you. (Lao Tzu)

Put too many items on a moving flat surface and a few are bound to slide off. If I listed everything I plan to do today, the city’s yellow-page phone directory would probably be thinner. That’s a huge hyperbole, but I feel overwhelmed.

So, when I drive away from the Y and realize that, oops, I’ve left my hand brace inside the building, I’m not surprised by my forgetfulness. And I am frustrated. With me. I need that brace. I’m performing tomorrow and don’t want my hand to cramp in the middle of a song.

True, the return trip is no more than a drive from exit to entrance, but backtracking isn’t on the sacred agenda.

Fortunately, Amy catches my eye as I approach the door to leave. Again. She is smiling. She has good news. She has been battling metastatic cancer. Her most recent tests have come back normal. This may not be the final report, but it leads in a positive direction.

Amy is an amazing young woman. She volunteers almost every day. And rides her bike, not a car. She doesn’t give up easily.

I wrap my brace around my wrist and realize the pain in my hand has lessened. And so has the weight of my self-imposed agenda. Suddenly, a few items fall off. And it is okay. They didn’t need to be there anyway. I add gratitude for people like Amy. The kind of addition that lightens the burden.

the brave and suffering The Optiism Revolution

Read Full Post »

Water Exercise, the Gift of the Moment

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , on April 23, 2016| 1 Comment »

Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend. (Albert Camus)

I am thinking about leaving water aerobics class a tad early. If I took a shower at the Y instead of at home, those few extra minutes could come in handy to begin a task or two.

The house needs to be reassembled after some minor construction in our bathroom. Kids will be at our house again tomorrow. I need to practice my set for a performance next week, and I have a writing deadline. Actually, I have several, including this weekly blog.

The instructor moves one way and I turn another. Fortunately, I don’t collide into anyone else. Apparently this moment is progressing and my mind is shifting somewhere else. Oops. One more time from the top.

I catch the eye of a fellow class member. We talk. Our conversation doesn’t stay with safe subjects, such as the temperature inside the pool, or outside where Mother Nature lets wind, storm, or sun take random turns with the weather. Our hearts meet in the important places where caring for others matters. And that caring charges a toll with no set rate.  Unpredictable is standard.

This kind of real-life communication happens often during classes. Funny how I keep up with the instructor’s transitions when I am interacting with another person. Yet, when my mind wanders to places I can’t touch, I’m lost.

The shower can wait. At least until I get home. For now, I spend time with other water comrades. And celebrate the gift of the moment.

friendship in pond, pool, or random flower

frog hugging frog

Read Full Post »

Large Seeds, Small Seeds, and a Thank-you or Two

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on April 16, 2016| 4 Comments »

The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn. (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

We planted our blue spruce tree forty years ago. It was a gift from my husband’s uncle who owned a nursery. Some of the tree’s branches no longer thrive. However, I only recently learned that no blue spruce trees have survived in a neighborhood less than a thirty-minute drive east of ours. I had no idea how lucky our front yard has been. Of course, the spruce’s care has cost a small fortune. But human life isn’t always easy either. Life was never promised to be an effortless road.

Dakota gathers cones scattered on the ground and gives them a ride in his toy yellow dump truck.

“Can I take these home?” he asks.

“Sure. As long as your mom says it is okay.”

I have probably stepped on or over the huge seeds and never noticed them. Dakota studies the shape and size of each cone. He lets the super-wet ones dry in the sun. Dark and semi-disintegrated cones remain with the lighter, more attractive ones. I don’t ask our almost-five-year-old why he is so enamored by spruce cones. It doesn’t matter. He has discovered something of wonder, and has given me the opportunity to observe nature—and a beauty that has been waiting for me to notice it.

The top of the spruce holds more cones not yet dropped. I think about how many seeds there are and yet how few produce trees. How often do I expect every kind act to yield results—or at least a nod of recognition? I ask the question, but don’t expect an answer. I need an awareness, not a count.

Gratitude comes in layers, over time. I got a call last night, about a gift a very special person wants to give me. He was shopping with his sister. They were having difficulty making a decision. At the time I’d been tired, lost in my own fatigue—and I almost missed the moment to know how important this call was, a far larger gift than any wrapped present. The what of the purchase wasn’t important. To me. But it was to him. And that is where my awareness took hold. I don’t remember whether or not I said thank you. But I do recall ending the conversation with, “And I love you, too.”

Now, Dakota’s cones go for fast rides up and down the lawn. And I wonder what a four-year-old boy envisions as he leads the truck through imaginary adventures. The dandelions, tucked in his pocket, fall out. He calls them pretty weeds. I call them gifts for the bees.

“Play with me,” he says. I Do. However, I always remain on the edge of his world. And catch occasional glimpses of the newness he sees. With the kind of appreciation that lets growth begin. For both of us.

cones

 

 

Read Full Post »

Good People, Good Places, and Disappointing Spring Weather

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 10, 2016| 3 Comments »

It is good people who make good places.  (Anna Sewell)

I study this photo taken in a local park, and remember. Full bright blue sky. Sunglasses. Dark shadows with clear edges. And a day with my granddaughter, Ella.

Sure, light exists whether it is glaring or not, hidden behind gray clouds. However, cold wind, rain, as well as snow flurries steal the spring I expected this year.

Cold hasn’t taken away pleasant moments.

I had a delightful evening with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law last night as I served one more cold-weather meal—pork chops and sauerkraut.  

The antics of my grandchildren in my tiny office also bless my work space. The children leave a grand mess. But the chaos also brings suggestions for further stories as well as deep, sweet memories.

Last week at an exercise class I fumbled, as usual, through the transitions from one move to another. At least the continuous action healed the chill in my bones. Then I noticed a woman to my left in the row in front of me. She lifted one foot perhaps an inch off the ground, and then she raised the other, minutes later, while the rest of the class hopped to the right and then to the left. The lady smiled as if satisfied simply to be present. I wondered how old she was.

I guessed ninety. And discovered after class I was right when the instructor came to her and introduced herself.

“I’ll be back,” the older woman said.

And I hope she does return. She reminds me that internal warmth comes from far more than transient circumstances. Maybe someday I can learn that getting-all-the-external-parts-right isn’t the most satisfying life goal.

I look again at the picture of my shadow. I know it represents me. But I also know it reflects only a stretched-out shape created by an angle of light. One that can alter at any moment.

I pray to learn from young people like Ella. And older people like a surprise visitor in an exercise class.

Thank you, life, for today. In whatever shape it appears.

my shadow full sun West Fork park

Read Full Post »

A Little Time with Little People

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on April 3, 2016| 1 Comment »

Childhood means simplicity. Look at the world with the child’s eye – it is very beautiful. (Kailash Satyarthi)

Ella, a toy Mickey Mouse, and I cook with plastic plates, cups, anything that could act as a pretend utensil. The fact that Mickey, Ella, and I are not even close to being the same size doesn’t matter as we share Ella’s chicken, both invisible and delicious. Reality can be stretched in any direction with a strong imagination.

We need to leave for the ten-mile drive to kindergarten soon. Very soon. I tell Ella. To her time is as invisible as the chicken that could turn into brownies at whim.

Nevertheless, we make it to the car. And go on a bear hunt, with a few changes in the script. The bears become white or red, according to Ella’s whim. And the drive becomes beautiful instead of ordinary and tedious.

***

Dakota cooks using the same play utensils and Play-Doh. Usually his creations become chocolate cake. And he expects me to eat far more than a sumo wrestler could handle at one sitting. I feel full even though the blue or yellow clay has never touched my lips. His attention span doesn’t last long, however.

He picks up the book I wrote for Ella. It was never meant to be published. It is in a three-ring plastic binder. I printed two copies. One for Ella, one for her bus driver—a principal character.

I ask Dakota if he wants a book about him for his birthday. He thinks for a moment and answers, “With me and with Ella.”

The world through a young person’s eyes. Simple. Honest. Beautiful enough to make my tear ducts leak. Just a little.

My adult agenda gets overwhelming. Sometimes I wonder if I have enough time to stop and play with my little ones. Then I realize the stopping is life. My writing agenda merely talks about it.

Ella and Dakota playing

 

Read Full Post »

The Abundant Ordinary

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 26, 2016| Leave a Comment »

Acknowledging the good that you already have in your life is the foundation for all abundance.  (Eckhart Tolle)

Sure I can take one thing at a time, I tell myself as I grab a breakfast bar to save time, then open the dishwasher to unload it. Uh, maybe not. Nothing like rewashing dishes because they have peanut-butter residue on them.

I’m trying to decide how Terry as overwhelmed-monkey-in-the-middle-of-chaos could have been averted yesterday…by multitasking on my own time today. Okay, from the top. Take one thing at a time, and acknowledge the goodness in each moment. As that moment occurs.

I try to plan for every contingency—in advance. Something like directing raindrops into rain barrels. Without overflow. Or flooding. No real-life messiness anywhere.

Simultaneous requests will probably not go away. Some folk may need to wait. Some tasks, too. Do I need breakfast first or should I return plates and silverware to their designated homes within my home? Either way I drop things if I move too quickly.

Right now I’m glad my grandchildren enjoy being with Grandma and Grandpa. My son has taken over plans for a family birthday party. I turn seventy soon. A friend offered to take me shopping for a much-needed bathing suit, although she can’t do it today. My suit has faded and thinned. If it could talk it would beg to be euthanized. I find a replacement. It won’t last forever either. Nothing does.

Humor and gratitude: a winning combination. My health is improving. And I decide not to take it for granted anymore. This day is a gift, a syncopated, less-than-choreographed, clumsy dance.

But each minor imperfection doesn’t matter.

Life is innately good.

Dance even if there is no music

Read Full Post »

Thinking, Not Over-Thinking

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on March 19, 2016| Leave a Comment »

Never be afraid to sit awhile and think. (Lorraine Hansberry)

Think. Not over-think, worry’s first cousin.

I’m on my way to an exercise class. The class is my chance to kick, run, jump into a V-step or Charleston left, then right—all in my own clumsy timing. I’m definitely back-row inept. So what if the person in front of me is five foot eleven and I need higher heels to hit the five-foot mark. At least I won’t confuse anyone behind me.

Traffic is light for a Friday morning. I sit, drive, and take in the moment as my ’97 Toyota follows the familiar route.

The sky is blue, clear. And I breathe in and out slowly with the hope that my spirit can find similar clarity. A bird crosses the road. Too low. It almost hits my windshield. I’m reminded of the sparrow that lay dead in our driveway yesterday. I’ve seen too much loss lately. Large and small. I realize I can’t discover the beauty of each moment when I’m running on high speed in multiple directions.

My unwritten chore list is long. Again. I am hosting a friend’s birthday party this weekend. My office is also my grandchildren’s play area. The carpet is filled with tiny pieces of paper, remnants of kid art, what my mother called snibbles. Actually, I never heard the word anywhere else. So I asked my brother Bill if he knew anything about the word.

He speaks fluent German, and years ago, before we both had kids, he beat me at Scrabble. Regularly. I saved the score sheets and averaged the points. He was three points a word more proficient. But did he gloat? Heavens, no. We played cooperative games to see how many points we could gather together. Well over 700. That board grew with diverse, well-connected words and designs. Now Bill works to recognize people, not politics. The people of Palestine. Persons. Individuals. Not a lumped nameless mass.

This is where my thinking leads me now: I am proud of my younger brother.

He found snibbles in the Urban Dictionary. My bro, both intelligent and resourceful. And the sunshine outside seeps inside me just a little bit more.

In the meantime, daffodils are beginning to bloom. Grass pushes up green blades from thawed earth. The goldfinch has started to display his warm-weather feathers.

Beginnings. Each moment. As I sit. In the car. Or on the porch. As I stand. In the line at the grocery. Waiting. Anywhere. During celebrations and during painful times. Think, Terry, with expectant awareness. And live in the now. The naysayers will come. Ready to criticize another for hair or skin color, race, intelligence, or immigrant status. Ready to separate us from them, to say one group is more human than another.

But, you can’t be knocked over by hate, Terry, because you are caught off-guard in your own trivial considerations. One more time. Catch the beauty. Know it is real. Gain strength. Opinions change. Truth does not. Think. Think. Think…

bluebird and rainbow

Read Full Post »

Happy Birthday, Kate

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on March 12, 2016| 1 Comment »

Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don’t always like. (Lemony Snicket)

Something peculiar has been happening with my computer. Definitely malicious and now repaired—costly, but repaired. Now, my iPad refuses to interact with our Internet system. My husband’s  relatively new computer doesn’t want to have anything to do with it either. He is on the phone now trying to connect. Nothing.

I have three kids at the house. All three of them—and my husband—are trying to connect with me. Something like sharing one Cheerio among four people.  My stress level escalates. I am not winning the serenity award.

Moreover, it is my oldest granddaughter’s birthday today, March 11. She is twelve-years old. This is not how I planned to celebrate the beginning of her last year before she becomes a teenager.

However, since I need to find the jewel in this situation, I realize she is the gift. While I run like water overflowing the sink, she keeps her cousin Ella occupied and out of Grandpa’s way. She dresses her young cousin for the birthday party. She makes me proud of her.

Kate is a rare and beautiful girl. She lacks the self-centeredness most teens and preteens develop because they don’t know who they are yet. She and another child have dreams that are filled with integrity. They want to establish a foundation for the homeless.

I’d like to say that my oldest granddaughter’s example has completely pulled me out of my funk. It hasn’t. Yet. The electronic world and I have bonded. It’s the tool I use to communicate beautiful truths when ugliness wants to take over the world.

But utopia hasn’t arrived yet. The restaurant I visit serves unexpected problems as well as Play-Doh cakes made by four to six-year-old cooks, and the lids to the colored clay often get lost long enough for the clay to dry out.

In the meantime, I have a brand new twelve-year-old granddaughter named Kate to keep me somewhat on track. And I am most grateful. Happy birthday, beautiful!

perfect moments PIQ

 

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »