The Perfect Holiday Gifts!

I really wasn’t trying to be difficult.  I wasn’t trying to be argumentative.  I wasn’t trying to cause stress or anxiety.  Instead, I was being completely honest.  Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I always gave the same truthful answer.

“Nothing,” I always said to all of my friends and family members whenever they asked about Christmas presents.  There honestly wasn’t anything I wanted.  I already had everything I needed to be happy.  I have good food, clean water, safe shelter.  I have books and music.  I have clothes, a job, a car.  I have my five senses—and, many times, a sixth.  According to a lot of people, I have an overabundance of emotions…and they are probably right!  I consistently laugh, cry, and love without boundaries.  I have family, even though I may get on everyone’s nerves sometimes.  I live with three dogs who love me, and a cat that is still on the fence but is slowly getting used to me.  I have friends who may not always be in my life but are always there for me when needed.  I have freedom for adventure and travel.

What more could I possibly want, especially on the holiest day of the year?

As I have gotten older, the traditions of Christmas have changed for me.  For the past several years, I haven’t decorated trees, or put up wreaths and holly, or accepted presents.  I usually like to spend Christmas alone in meditation.  Some people find this unusual but for me it is the best way to honor the Savior without the distraction and stress that usually comes with the holiday.  I enjoy simple pleasures.

For example, I woke up at around 2 am on Christmas morning.  I climbed out of bed and walked into the living room.  I had a strong desire to look out of the big picture window and stare at the dark night sky and gaze at the stars.  But instead of darkness and stars, I find a night white with quietly falling snow.  I sat snuggled up in a blanket on the living room couch as I leaned towards the window and watched the snowflakes magically dancing across the front lawn.  I prayed, meditated, and sang songs Christmas carols to myself.  My mind also kept swirling around the events of the day.  The afternoon of Christmas Eve, 2017, was spent going out to lunch with my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew.  The day was full of laughter as my brother and nephew tried to “out-funny” each other.  I tried to compete with them, too, but I couldn’t keep up with their quick wits and sly one-liners.  I’m usually laughing too hard at their comedic challenge to think of anything funny to say.  But that’s okay, because I have since become one of the best laughers around.  This afternoon was no different; the event ended again with my brother mockingly yelling to his son, “You’re grounded for being funnier than I am.”  And again, I found myself laughing joyfully before I finally got up from the couch and went back to bed to snuggle warmly and contentedly under the covers.

When I awoke again on Christmas morning, I carefully drove my car across the dusting of snow on the side streets to the local Quiktrip.  I parked in a narrow space at the far end of the small lot.  I grabbed my purse and climbed out of my vehicle.  As I walked toward s the entrance, I noticed a young woman holding the door open for several people who walked into the convenient store.  Her back was towards me so all I could see was her long, dark blond hair that flowed over the collar and down the back of her black and white checked winter coat.  I approached the woman and circled around in front of her to get to the door.  I reached out my hand to take the door from her, but she pulled back away from me before swinging her hand towards the entrance.

“No, please, go ahead,” the woman said to me as I now saw her sweet face and beautiful, big smile.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said to her.  But then I stopped and smiled at her as something my brother, Tony, always said to me.  Whenever I refused gifts or tried to be defiantly independent, Tony would tell me, “Don’t deny other people the right to be good to you.”  So, now, I smiled at this young woman and realized that she was giving me a gift.  Kindness, the willingness to do simple things for other people, is a dying art lately.  So, now, I looked at this woman and said, “That’s very sweet of you.  Thank you so much.”

As I walked through the door the woman held open for me, she happily shouted out, “Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you.  You, too,” I said back as I stepped into the warmth of the crowded store.  I couldn’t help laughing as I looked around at the other patrons.  Everyone was wrapped up in a heavy coat to ward off the winter chill.  And yet, underneath the coats, everyone was wearing cozy, colorful, flannel pajamas or tattered, comfortable sweats.  I have found my people, I thought with a laugh.  I, too, had just slipped on an old jacket over my sweats before leaving the house.  I love people best at their natural quirkiness.  I love people who are just as comfortable walking around in nightwear as they are in business suits.  And, of course, today was a day like no other as everyone politely dodged around each other as they whispered, “Excuse me,” “No, you first,” and “Merry Christmas.”  I listened to the joyful, happy voices as I paid for my coffee and walked back out to my car.

I spent the rest of Christmas day in quiet contemplation.  I was feeling blissful and at peace, just the way Christmas is supposed to be.

So, see, there wasn’t anything I needed for Christmas.  But I had received the best gifts of all: laughter, kindness, peace…and once again, I had received from God and the Savior the perfect Christmas holiday!

 

 

 

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My Perfect Roses

Last Sunday, my thoughts were just as drab and boring as the world I had been walking through.  I felt trapped as I made my way down the main aisle of the backroom of my workplace.  I was surrounded on all sides by dull, concrete floors, light gray steel beams, and plain brown cardboard boxes.  But then just like in the Wizard of Oz when black and white scenes suddenly blossom into brilliant color, I noticed something crimson red shining just to my left side.  I turned around and gasped as I caught my breath.

“Oh, those are beautiful!”  I sighed as I came to a complete dreamlike stop.  I suddenly forgot why I had been in such a hurry as I focused on the long stem roses that were lying in a blue basket.  The black handle of the square basket was resting across Bernard’s left arm.

“Do you want a rose?” the assistant manager asked me.

“Really,” I smiled.  “I can have one?”

“Of course, you can,” he answered as he offered the basket out to me.  I thanked him profusely and grabbed the stem of a large blooming red rose.  I pulled the luscious flower from the basket and held it up to my face to breath in the delicious scent of the petals.  “Okay,” Bernard said after I had been completely intoxicated with the sweet aroma.  “You have to let me take your picture now.”

That’s when I noticed that Bernard was holding a digital camera in his opposite hand.  I’ve always been very uncomfortable in front of cameras.  So, now, I shook my head.  “No, thanks,” I told him.  “I’ll have to give you the rose back.”  I started to place the beautiful, perfect creation back into the basket.  Refusing the picture was actually a graceful way out for me because I had suddenly realized that the roses actually had a special purpose.  The flowers were for Mommas.  I had completely forgotten through the course of my busy workday that it was Mother’s Day.  I don’t have children of my own and my mother had passed on seven years ago.  So, of course, I don’t really have a reason or a right to celebrate Mother’s Day and, honestly, it is a holiday that makes me really sad.  I sighed wistfully as I placed the rose back into the basket.

“No, it’s okay,” Bernard told me.  “You can have a rose.  Go ahead and keep it…and I won’t force you to have your picture taken either.”

I just shook my head no and slowly began to back away.  I didn’t deserve the flower.  “Thank you, Bernard,” I told him.  “I do appreciate it but I’m not a mother.  I don’t have any children.  These roses should go to mothers today.

Bernard just laughed then and said, “It doesn’t matter.  You can have a rose, too, if it makes you happy.  Come on.  Take one.”  He held the basket out to me again.

I couldn’t stop smiling now as I grabbed hold of the stem of the flower I had just returned and pulled it back out of the basket.  “Thank you,” I told him.

“That’s fine,” Bernard answered.  “Just enjoy it.

And I did.  Holding the rose and running my fingers over the red, feather soft petals made my day a little brighter.  I was really missing my mother and the rose made me think of her.  I thought about the rose bush my mother had planted and carefully nurtured in the corner of our backyard when I was a child.  But then, thinking about my mother who had sacrificed so much for me, I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty.  I wondered if I had taken a rose away from a woman who was much more deserving than I could ever be.  Did I just steal a rose from one of the many gracious women who went through the pain of childbirth and suffered sleepless nights taking care of sick children?

Honestly, I would have loved to have been one of those women.  But certain life situations and health problems such as ovarian cysts and uterine tumors prevented me from feeling worthy of a rose.  But I also had to admit that the flower and Bernard’s kindness, the way he included me in this simple tribute, made me smile and brightened my day.

A week later, Sunday, May 20, 2017, I was back at work and having a rather bad day.  I kept repeating to myself New Age affirmations to help me make it through my work hours.  “A good or bad day is just my perception.”  “I can use my power of positive thinking to make this a better day.”  But nothing seemed to help.  I spent the day struggling with even the most minor tasks.  I just couldn’t seem to adjust to the stress of the day and my frustration was pushing me to the point of tears.

As I struggled to pull myself together that afternoon, I suddenly heard someone calling out to me.  I turned around to see  Charles standing behind me.  “Here, this is for you, Jamie,” he said as he held out his hand to me.  “Take this and hold onto it until your day becomes better.”  I stared down at the small, red rose resting in his palm, and my heart suddenly filled with hope and gratitude.  I was so touched by Charles’s sweet gesture.  “Thank you so much,” I answered.  “That’s so sweet of you.”   I reached out and took the rose from his hand.  As Charles walked away , I pinned the rose to my shirt and immediately began to feel much better.  What an amazing blessing that gift was!  And now, after all of the positive thinking I tried to force on myself, that simple rose made me feel so much better.

I thought now about both roses I had received over the last two Sundays and I realized something.  Though I regret not being a mother, though I am ashamed of myself for not handling my frustration better, people still cared about me.  I don’t have to be anything in particular or do anything special for people to think of me.  I had no reason to feel inadequate or ashamed or lacking in my life.  I don’t have to have a great job or a lot of money.  Instead, all I had to do was be kind and have a good heart and there will always be people to support and help me.

My coworker’s kindnesses reminded me of the love Jesus Christ holds for all of us.  He knows our regrets and our failings and yet He continues to love and support us anyway.  He continues to help us grow strong and beautiful and blossom into special spirits….just like my beautiful perfect roses.  I am so blessed!

Thank you so much, Bernard and Charles, for your kindness…and my roses!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Lives Matter…Even Furry Ones!

Last Friday, I decided to read through a few recent articles before I started to work on my writing assignments.  Unfortunately, once more nothing but bad news appeared on my computer screen.  I read about cop-involved shootings, protests, natural disasters, and other sad events.  After a while, I finally pushed myself away from the computer with a sigh.  I stood up, stretched, and walked into the bathroom as I thought about…

“OH, DOGS!”  I cried out as I saw the mess that was left on the cool, tiled floor.  We have a huge, fenced-in, lush backyard and puppy training pads laid out in the front room, and yet the dogs still choose to make their messes right in front of the bathtub.  With a groan, I quickly cleaned up the bathroom and then thoroughly scrubbed my hands.

After drying off and hanging the towel back on the rack, I left the bathroom and walked into the living room where two of our three dogs, Friskie and Cowboy, were comfortably snuggled down into the big, soft, cushiony pillows that make up the back of the sofa.  They like to climb up on top of the couch and then plunge their little bodies down into the pillows as if they are falling into quicksand.  Only their sweet, round, dark eyes and cold, wet noses are visible.  The third dog, Starburst, was cuddled up in a little, round, furry ball on the big, brown puppy pillow by the television.

“Alright, dogs,” I call out to them as I clapped my hands together to get their interest.  Starburst lazily raised up her head and scootched her furry, white and brown body forward.  Friskie and Cowboy slowly and clumsily pulled their bodies up from the cushions like lazy, little swamp monsters.  Once I had their full attention, I pointedly asked, “Who made the mess in the bathroom?”

Of course, none of the dogs would confess, even though Starburst and Cowboy looked directly at Friskie, who had lowered her head back down into the pillows.  Otherwise, Friskie refused to admit any wrongdoing.  “Alright, fine,” I answered, surprising myself by how much I sounded like my own mother.  “None of you did it.  The mess just made itself.  No, no, don’t get up.  I got it all cleaned up.  Just go back to sleep…”

And that’s when I suddenly noticed a large, nasty, runny, orangey, thick fluid on the carpet just a mere two inches away from the puppy pads.  I stared at this new mess in shock for a few seconds wondering which dog had been sick.  I was suddenly spurred into action, however, when little Starburst suddenly moved forward from her comfortable position on the puppy pillow and prepared to clean up the chunky fluid by licking at it.  (I know that’s really disgusting—but that’s the way it happened!)  Once again, feeling absolutely revolted, I quickly cleaned up this new mess as the dogs once more settled back down to sleep.  I was sincerely and totally grossed out.  I never had children, so I never had to deal with projectile vomit, gross diapers, and disgusting messes.  Fate sure was catching up with me now.

Finally, after the orange mess was cleaned up, I walked around the room and checked on all three dogs to make sure they were not sick.  When they seemed to be all right, I walked back to the bathroom to thoroughly scrub my hands clean once more.

A few minutes later, I decided to go to the kitchen to get some iced tea.  I walked through the living room…

…and that’s when I heard it…

I stopped for a moment and looked around the room.  What was that noise?

And then I heard it again…

UUUUHHHHH!

What was that?

UUUUUUUHHHHHHHH!

Oh, my gosh.  The noise was a very loud, low, deep sound with a scratchy-throated screech at the end.  It sounded just like a person gagging for breath as he or she was choking.  Choking?

I looked around and that’s when I noticed little Starburst.  She had now moved off of the puppy pillow and was lying on the hardwood floor of the dining room.  The deep, guttural noise she was making continued to get louder.

UUUUUUUHHHHHHH!  UUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!

Oh, my gosh, Starburst was choking!  The dog was choking!

“Star?” I called out as I ran over and knelt down beside her.  I reached out my hand and gently touched her side.  But before I could say or do anything more, she yanked away from me as if my touch had hurt her.  She moved away and crawled underneath the table.  Even though she was further away from me, her gags had gotten louder.  I crawled underneath the table after her.  Now, when she saw me, Starburst suddenly lifted her right paw out as if she was reaching for a lifeline.  But her paw quivered twice before the rest of her body began to shiver violently.  Oh, my gosh, the little dog was starting to convulse!  Her whole tiny body was now shaking as she continued to gasp for air!

In a panic, I got up and grabbed my phone off the table.  I quickly pushed the touch-screen buttons to call my sister-in-law, Mary, who is the actual owner of the dogs.

“Hello,” Mary answered her phone sweetly and I felt horrible to have to give her such bad news.

“Mary, it’s Jamie,” I screeched.  I didn’t wait for her to respond.  “Starburst…”  I stuttered, “Starburst is sick.  She’s choking.  She can’t breathe and she started convulsing now.  What should I do?  Where are you?”

“Oh, my God,” Mary gasped.  “I’m nowhere near home right now.  I’m babysitting the grandkids.  I can’t leave them.  But I’m going to call someone to come help you, okay?  I’ll get someone over to the house really fast.”

“Okay, okay,” I answered as we hung up.  God, I had studied and taught abdominal thrust, CPR, and first aid for years, but would those techniques work on a little dog?  Could I possibly call 911?  I crawled back under the table.  Starburst now let me touch her, but I think it was just because she didn’t have the strength to pull away.  “Starburst,” I whispered to her.  “Little Starry…Baby…it’s going to be okay.”

UUUUUUHHHHH, Starburst replied to me.  She was still gagging and her little body was convulsing terribly.  I reached out and pulled her gently towards me.  I raised her head and stared down into her little face.  Oh, my God…Starry’s beautiful, soulful, brown eyes were completely unfocused now!

Oh, my God…  Her left eye stared lifelessly ahead while her right eye had rolled off to the far side.  Then both eyes suddenly began to roll to the back of her head.

That was it!  I pulled the dog out from under the table and held her tightly.  I got up from the floor with little Starburst in my arms and grabbed my keys off the table.  I was going to take the dog up to the vet’s office that was just a few blocks away on State Avenue and 78^th street.  It was after 5 o’clock already, though.  I didn’t know if the office was still open but I hoped they would have some kind of emergency information posted somewhere by the front door.  I had to do something to help this tiny dog.  I love this dog so much.  “God, please,” I prayed as I ran into the living room.  “Please, God, please let this little dog be okay.  Please, God, don’t take this dog.”

UUUUUUUUHHHHHH!

I squeezed little Starry close to m y chest as I ran and prayed.  “Please, God…please, I love this dog.”

Just as I yanked open the front door, Starburst’s body suddenly stopped shaking.  There was one more hard UUUUUUUUHHHHHHH…

….and then silence.

No more movement…no more noise…

…just stillness… and silence…

And then the dog coughed.  She coughed.

“Starry?” I called to her as I held her away from me to look at her face.  I stared down at the little dog and suddenly saw her small mouth move.  She suddenly worked her furry jaw up and down in a chewing motion

…. and then she swallowed.

She swallowed…

And then Starburst opened up her eyes and looked directly up at me.  I stood very still and stared down into Star’s sweet, funny face.  We just stared at each other for a moment.

And then Starry took a deep breath and whimpered.  “Ummmmmm  ummmmm”

It was so different from the loud choking sounds of a few seconds before.  This sound was soft and tender and heartbreaking.  Starburst now feel limply against my chest as she started to whimper uncontrollably now that her horrible, scary ordeal was finally over.  I held her tight to me and cried right along with her as I gave thanks that she was now miraculously okay.  I sat down slowly on the couch and tried to sit Starburst on the floor but the little dog wouldn’t leave my arms.  We cuddled together for a while until her cries finally calmed down.  I placed Starburst carefully down on the floor.  “Oh, Star!”  I sighed as she ran over to the dog dish and began to eat.  “Seriously?”

After her near fatal choking crisis, she was now snacking on dry dog food.  I don’t know if the whole ordeal had just made her hungry or maybe she just wanted to show me that she wasn’t afraid to eat again.  Yes, she had been through a bad choking experience but she showed no lingering fear as she chomped on the food.  I just shook my head at her and laughed.  Then, once she was satisfied, she crawled back up into my lap.  For the rest of the evening, little Starry  followed me around the house and wouldn’t leave my side until we both exhaustively fell into our own beds and went to sleep.

The next day, I came home from work and checked on the dogs to make sure they were okay and there were no messes to take me by surprise.  I went into my room and turned on the computer to catch up on the news.  More deaths, more disasters…

And suddenly there was a knock on my door.  I got up and opened my door to find Starburst waiting patiently in the hallway.  Now as she saw me, she jumped up and down, daintily dancing on her tiny, white, hairy paws.  Starry would run towards me and as I stepped forward she would joyfully jump up and back and spin around before prancing back towards me once more.  I laughed as I playfully chased her back into the living room where Mary was cuddling with Friskie and Cowboy on the couch.

“Starburst wanted you to come out and play with her,” Mary informed me.  “You don’t’ have to if she’s bothering you.”

“She’s not bothering me at all,” I told Mary.  “I’m just so relieved she’s all right.”

“Yeah, I am, too,” Mary sighed.  “I think you are her best friend now.”

“Yes,” I agreed.  “We are very bonded.  We’re best buds now.”  I got down on the floor as Starburst rolled over onto her back so that I could rub her pale belly.

I had told Mary the details of what had happened the day before.  Now my sister-in-law stated, “I think when you picked her up yesterday from under the table and held her tight, you probably dislodged whatever was in her throat so she could start breathing again.”

“Probably,” I answered, “but I don’t really know what happened.  I just remember holding her and praying…”

I stopped talking and Mary and I just smiled at each other.  Mary got up from the couch then and called, “Come on, dogs.  Time for dinner.”  I think all three dogs understand the word “dinner.”  They all trotted after Mary into the kitchen as I walked back into my room and sat down at my computer once more.  After a few minutes, there was a knock at my door again.

I got up and opened the door.  Starburst walked into the room and over to my chair.  I knew what she wanted.  I picked her up and placed her on my lap after I sat back down in my chair.  I rocked her back and forth as I looked at the articles appearing on my computer screen.  Nothing but bad news.  I clicked off the computer and pulled Starburst close to me as I realized that it really doesn’t matter how much money we have or what job we do or what kind of cars we drive.  When it’s all over, the only thing God will want to know is how much compassion we displayed and I how much love we gave.  Because all life, no matter how small and furry, is precious in the eyes of God.  In God’s glory, all lives matter, I thought as I cuddled tiny furry Starburst close to me and once more gave thanks for God’s sweet mercy.

 

 

 

 

My Vegas

About three weeks ago, I was in Las Vegas again.  Yes, again.  It was possibly my twelfth visit to Nevada.  For several years, I lived in Southern California which was just four hours southwest of Las Vegas.  The fantasy city became my weekend get-away destination.  I would make the long, joyful drive through the shockingly beautiful desert on Friday mornings and spend the weekend exploring the strip and surrounding territories.  I would attend concerts and go to special events.  I would sip iced teas while watching all of the colorful people on the streets.  Vegas is the most amazing place to people watch.  Colorful, dressed-up characters, beautiful showgirls, amusing musicians, creative dancers, and aggressive vendors decorate the strip in all kinds of surprisingly bizarre and fascinating manners.  There’s always something to watch, to see, to do, to enjoy in Vegas.

Over the years, I have grown so comfortable with the city, I have no fear of walking the strip by myself at night.  I am careful.  I take precautions.  I do things such as leaving my purse in the hotel room and dressing down so I don’t bring attention to myself.  I walk confidently down the street as if I always know where I’m going and what I’m doing, even though in reality, I’m just roaming around completely dazzled by all of the lights, colors, and designs of the hotels and casinos.  My favorite time to wander is in the early mornings.  I casually stroll down the strip as I watch the sun rising up over the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Hotel and glowing  through the spokes of the High Roller, the large Ferris wheel that is located between the Flamingo and Linq hotels.

I know I am bragging about my Vegas vacations.  I always boast about Vegas.  I happily post many pictures of Nevada on my Facebook page; I share copies of my Vegas travel journals; I talk continually about my adventures in the bright city.  I don’t smoke or drink or gamble, but that doesn’t make any difference.  Filled with amazing attractions and interesting experiences, Vegas is still a wonderland to me.  Not only is the city so interesting, but Vegas is so central to other amazing attractions as well.  My trips to Nevada have also included walking across the Hoover Dam, sailing around Lake Mead, touring the Colorado River, and exploring the red cliffs of St. George, Utah.

Vegas is one of my absolute favorite places on earth.  That revelation surprises a lot of people, though.  I always get questioned about that statement.  I usually get asked by someone, “How can you possibly love Vegas after you have been to so many other beautiful places?”  Other questions have been, “Yuck! How can you stand the kitschiness of Vegas?” “How could you possible enjoy Vegas after you just returned from Alaska (which just happened this year)?”

All right, I will clarify.  First of all, I stated that Las Vegas is ONE of my favorite places.  The city is one of hundreds of favorite places I have seen on this earth.  I have been very fortunate to have traveled so extensively.  I have driven through all fifty states, lived in England, journeyed through Europe, briefly visited Thailand, and backpacked across Malaysia.  I have amazing memories and favorite places through all of my journeys.  Vegas is on my list of favorite places though the ranking constantly changes with each new travel experience I have.

Usually, when I am asked why I love Vegas, I respond with an answer that lives deep in my soul.  I usually say, “Life is good.  Life is so good!”  There are so many wonderful things in life.  I never understood why anyone would pick to live or to do or  to read or to listen to or to see or  to be just one thing.  I want it all.  I want all that life has to offer.  I don’t want to choose just one type of book or music or movie or religion or drink or food or people to enjoy.  I want to see the sunrise over the High Roller as much as I want to see the sunrise over the Rocky Mountains.  I want to see the lights glittering over Las Vegas in the middle of the night in the same way that I saw the casinos of Monte Carlo glistening in the distant darkness as my friends and I stood on top of a cliff overlooking Monaco.  It doesn’t matter; it’s all life and it’s all beautiful to me.

Though I am currently planning trips to Australia and other countries, I will always return to Vegas.  Yes, there are times when Vegas can get a little rough.  I have seen things like people drunk in the streets and  showgirls who display a little more of their “belongings” than I really care to see.  But it doesn’t matter.  I don’t get involved or worry about the negative.  I know that I will continue to stand mesmerized in front of the dancing waters of the Bellagio and thrill over the dolphins of the Mirage no matter how many times I have already experienced those things in the past.

I think everyone needs to experience Las Vegas at least once in his or her life.  Vegas is one of the most iconic American cities that is consistently depicted in TV shows, movies, books, and magazines.  Media cannot capture the full ambiance and pageantry of the city.  It is a surreal fantasyland that is set in beautiful contrast to the glaciers in Alaska, the mountains in Colorado, and the oceans of California.  It is the quintessential yin and yang of life, which all needs to be experienced and explored.

Since I moved to Kansas last year, getting to Vegas is a little more complicated for me.  The journey now includes a plane ride, but that’s all right.  It’s all part of the adventure.  And that’s exactly what life is…an endless adventure.  Vegas is just one of the many amazing stops I have made on the incredible journey of life.

Alaska

Yugen

1. Important concept in traditional Japanese aesthetics. “Dim,” “Deep,” or “Mysterious”
2. Awareness of the universe that triggers emotional responses too deep and mysterious for words.

In 1996, Jon Krakauer, the author of Into Thin Air, published an amazing, thoughtful book entitled Into the Wild.  This book tells the true story of Christopher Johnson McCandless who, after graduating from college, spurned his former affluent life and the bright, comfortable future ahead of him.  Motivated by books he read by Jack London and John Muir, McCandless dedicated himself to a personal vision quest that began in the western and southwestern regions of America.  Changing his name to Alexander Supertramp, McCandless gave his savings of  $25,000 to charity, abandoned all his possessions, left his car in the Mojave Desert, and burned all of his cash to ensure that nothing would hold him back from his journey.  Looking for his own personal paradise on this earth, McCandless even threw away all of his maps and traveled only by his intuition.  In April 1992, McCandless hitchhiked into Alaska and walked into the vast cold wilderness north of Mount McKinley.  For a while, McCandless found shelter in an abandoned old school bus.  Four months later, however, his body was found by a moose hunter.

No one knows what ultimately motivated McCandless’s careless journey.  Questions still remain about a young man’s need to walk away from a rich and promising future to live homeless and starving  in the barren wildness of Alaska.  Some people claim that McCandless had a death wish and a need for self-destruction.    Others just dismiss McCandless’s actions as foolish and innocently reckless.

Well, I guess I am foolish and reckless too….

I don’t claim to know what was in McCandless’s head or why he choose his particular lifestyle, but there is a core element inside of me that feels so connected to his story.  In response to Krakauer’s consistent questions in the book about McCandless’s journey, I think I understand.

There are so many of us on this earth who don’t always feel that we belong in a world that overwhelms us with violent, materialistic, opportunistic situations.  Some of us who struggle to cope, do not medicate ourselves from the stress with alcohol, food, cigarettes, sex, gambling, or prescription drugs, but we do experience a deep and compelling lust all the same.  Wanderlust and the need to move, to travel, to create a universe of our own existence is a hunger that is rarely satisfied.

Restless, never able to settle down, I constantly look for opportunities to escape my existence.  I have no intention of doing this through self-harm.  I just have a relentless need to be lost.  When I travel, I rarely call or text anyone.  I love driving alone down deserted highways  without a single person knowing where I am in that exact moment.  I enjoy the solitude, the drifting away from my reality.  This has been my lifestyle for the last thirty years.

In July, 2016, I finally had the opportunity to realize a lifelong dream.  I spent time this summer exploring Alaska.  This was an amazing turning point for me.  I had made a vow to myself that I would drive through every state in America.  Alaska was the last state I needed to visit in order to satisfy this goal.  However, I refused to celebrate this accomplishment.  I didn’t post notices about it on Facebook.  I didn’t write blogs about my experience.  I just didn’t feel the need.

While I was in Alaska, I felt inspired to go completely off the grid.  I wanted desperately to be lost.  I wanted to cut off all communication to my former life.  I didn’t call or text anyone.  I only posted a few pictures on Facebook when I felt overwhelmed by the incredible scenery of glaciers, waterfalls, mountains, and animals.  But I only posted about 20 of the 350 photos I took.  I haven’t posted any more pictures or information about Alaska since I returned to Kansas.  There is a deep part of me that just needs to keep it quiet and hidden.  To experience so much of God’s amazing wilderness was so profound and awe-inspiring there was no way of putting it into words.  Even the beautiful pictures I have seem bleak when compared to the Alaskan landscape itself.  To this day, two months later, I have no desire to tell people about all of the amazing things that happened to me in Alaska.

However…

I think constantly of running away again to the “last frontier.”  I want to hide in her vast beauty and get lost in her majestic environment.  I want to run with her wilderness and dissolve into her endless splendor.

My life’s purpose was  redefined in Alaska.  I came into contact with who God intended me to be.  I was never meant to have the things of an ordinary life.  I was not meant to have a great job, or a wonderful marriage, or an incredible home.  My only life’s purpose is to grow closer to God.  To know him by his world, by the beauty that surrounds me.  I don’t have to be anything…in Alaska, I can just be…

I don’t care about success, or a home, or money.  Just knowing in my heart and soul that I can move and explore and witness God’s glory is enough for me in this lifetime.

I don’t know Christopher McCandless’s motivation for his journey.

I didn’t travel from this life as far as Christopher did.

But there are times I really wish I had followed him.

 

 

Pleasant Days

“I really don’t care for the big things, the big moments,” my sister-in-law, Mary, told me.  “I always tell everyone I don’t need to have big surprises.  I just enjoy the kind things people do for me.”

I smiled at Mary’s words as she continued to talk about the things that were important to her in life.  Her words made me smile.  Life can be so simple if we recognize the things that truly make us happy and hold on to those things regardless of other people’s negative comments or actions.

I was more open to Mary’s thoughts at that moment because I was having a very good day.  I woke up around 9 am and spent the morning sipping a diet coke and catching up on my reading and studying.  I spent the majority of the time in quiet contemplation as I studied my inspirational books on angels and new age teachings.

When I was finally ready to exercise my body and not just my mind, I got dressed and drove to the gym.  I parked in front of the building, but before I got out of my car, I looked out of the windshield and noticed a large, brown, beautiful dragonfly hovering right in front of me.  I smiled when I saw it.  Though I was already familiar with this theory, I had just been reading that morning that butterflies and dragonflies are always symbols of a loved one who has passed over.  Whenever a dragonfly or a butterfly appears, someone on the other side is sending a message of love and support.  I thought about my mother as I watched the dragonfly dance on the breeze for a moment.  I had just been thinking about my mom that morning as I prayed and studied.  Slowly, I got out of my car, but even my sudden movements and the slamming of the door did not chase the dragonfly away.  It remained around my car, circling slowly from the front to the sides and back around again.  I started walking across the parking lot to the building.  Once I reached the front door, on a whim, I turned and looked back at my car.  The dragonfly had not moved away.  I could still see the creature, just a small floating dot now, still dancing around my car.  I smiled again, feeling at peace and walked inside the building.

Over an hour later, I walked out of the gym, and to my surprise, the dragonfly was still there!  It hadn’t flown away from my car.  The insect continued to float lazily around the front of my vehicle.  I climbed into my car and watched as the dragonfly now situated itself directly in front of me as I stared out through the windshield.  I could clear see the creature’s four fragile, gossamer wings.  Again, I thought of my mother’s delicate and sensitive nature and felt her presence beside me.  I started the car and began to ease out of my space and drive across the parking lot.  As I rolled up to the exit, I tapped on the brake at the stop sign…and suddenly, there it was again!  The dragonfly was once more hovering in front of me!  I felt so blessed and grateful.  I was loved and at peace with my life.  I knew that everything was going to happen for the highest good.  I had Mom supporting me from the other side.  I drove away then from the parking lot and headed for home.

That evening, Mary and I decided to visit my brother, Tony, at his job and take him out to dinner.  It would be a surprise for him, just a way of letting him know he was loved and appreciated.  As we waited for Tony to finish work, Mary and I decided to walk around the outdoor outlet mall for a while.  It was humid and hot, so we soon decided to get something drink at the small pretzel shop.  Mary was gracious enough to treat us both to a diet coke.  We then stepped outside and sat on a silver iron bench in the shade as we sipped our cold drinks and talked.  Our discussion was inspiring as Mary talked about the things she considered important in her life.  I couldn’t help but grin as I listened to her.  My smile must have grown very wide because Mary suddenly stopped talking and asked me, “What is it?”

I told her then about my incident with the dragonfly that morning.  “And look at this,” I said as I quickly reached into the pocket of my jeans.  I pulled out a shiny, sparkling penny and showed it to her.  I’m a big believer in “pennies from heaven.”  Every time, I find a coin on the ground, I know someone in heaven is thinking about me.  “Look…while you were paying for our drinks at the pretzel shop, I had walked over to grab some straws and I had kicked something across the floor.  When I looked down, it was this penny.  So I had my dragonfly this morning and my coin this afternoon…I have been thinking about Mom all day.  And I know now for sure that she has been thinking about me, too.”

Mary looked at me with her eyes grown wide with wonder.  She didn’t think I was crazy!  She believed me and agreed that my mother was around me that day.  Mary and I then shared amazing stories about superstitions we acknowledge and moments were we had true clarity in our lives.  Mary then stated her philosophy about the importance of basic kindness as opposed to big gestures.

After a few minutes, Mary and I returned to my brother’s workplace and we all went out together for a great meal and a relaxing, fun evening.  I spent the rest of the night reflecting on what an amazing day I had just experienced.  This had been one of the best days of my life.  I was content.  I was relaxed.  I was loved on earth and in heaven.  And I knew that I was so fortunate.  I don’t need to be always traveling the world or getting praise for my work or being the center of attention.  I just need dragonflies and coins, thoughtful conversation, and moments of kindness.  I will always be willing to trade one great, busy, remarkable day for a hundred days of pleasant.  It’s the little things that always make me happiest, too.

Memorial Day With Grandma Edith

Edith Marie McCurdy was born in Kansas on July 7, 1906.  When she was just a young girl, her father tragically passed away.  Edith was forced to leave school to care of her younger brothers and sisters while her mother worked three jobs to support the family.  My great grandmother McCurdy was a unique and interesting character.  She was a strong, colorful woman who was known for beating the neighborhood men in rounds of poker while smoking cigars and enjoying endless shots of whiskey.  An independent role model, great grandmother McCurdy raised her three daughters to be as strong and tough as she was.  The three McCurdy sisters—Edith, Alma, and Lil—were smart, beautiful women who were constantly compared to Katherine Hepburn, Rita Hayworth, and Audrey Hepburn.

In 1922, at the age of sixteen, Edith eloped with Ralph LeRoy Burgess.  A year into the marriage, Edith gave birth to her first child, Ralph, Jr.  Over the next ten years, the family grew with the addition of three more children—Jimmy, Nancy, and Leslee (my mother).  Though the Burgess family is directly descended from the House of Burgess (the ruling royal family during the founding of America before the Revolutionary War) in the 1930s, Ralph LeRoy struggled to support his family.  During the Great Depression, he worked as a plumber and handyman, taking any odd jobs he could find in order to support his growing family.  The Burgess family never had much of anything—money, food, or possessions–and they continually struggled for survival.

Every morning during the cold Kansas winters of the 1930s, the two young sons, Ralph and Jimmy, would wake up very early, put on their tattered coats, and walk outside into the cold, dark morning.  The sons would join other young boys who walked along the railroad tracks and picked up lumps of coal that had fallen off the trains.  Coal was the only source of heat for all of the families in Kansas, but no one could afford it.  Grabbing the coal off of the snow-covered train tracks was the only way most families could survive.  Technically, however, the coal belonged to the railroad companies, so even picking it up off the ground was considered stealing.  The young boys walking along the tracks were constantly looking out for policemen as they slipped the black, dirty, hard clumps into the torn pockets of their coats.  However, the threat of an arrest was unfounded.  Many of the officers chose to look the other way when they saw the boys walking the tracks.  Some officers even helped the younger boys gather up the coal before escorting them back home to their mothers and issuing a stern warning.  However, the next day the officers would look the other way when the young boys once again arrived at the railroad yards.

According to Grandma, the Great Depression was a time when people pulled together and shared what little they had.  “People were kind to each other then,” she would say.  “Everyone was always offering what little food and coal they had to each other.  We had no choice.  We were all suffering.”

And things were about to get worse.  World War II took many of the young men far from home and far from their families.  But once again, people rallied, Grandma claimed, and continued working together.  Young,  brave men were eager to enlist and fight for America’s freedom, especially after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.  Young courageous women went to work in factories where they helped build equipment needed for the war effort.  Families would gather together in the afternoons for activities such as writing letters to the troops or rolling old material into bandages.  People spent what little money they had buying war bonds and contributing to care packages sent overseas to the troops.  Women would use dark liner to draw straight lines down the back of their legs.  The lines resembled the seams that usually were found in the back of nylon stockings.  The women were disguising the fact that they were now bare-legged.  The nylon was being used to create parachutes for the men overseas.  Other small luxuries, like chocolate, were no longer available to the general public.  The precious items were being sent to the troops overseas.  The American people gladly sacrificed their material goods and simple pleasures for the war effort.

Many American homes began to resemble caves.  The houses were shrouded with blackout curtains, which blocked any light coming in or out of their homes.  The houses were plunged into darkness to make them invisible to foreign planes that might fly over America and drop bombs, which was currently happening in England and across Europe.  Due to the bomb scare, many homes had bomb shelters and underground bunkers.  Public places held weekly bomb raid drills and school children were taught how to duck and cover.  According to Grandma, all Americans participated in the war effort.

Roman Senate Seneca once stated, “Great men rejoice in adversity, just as brave soldiers triumph in war.”  The stressful situations of World War II brought Americans together as they overcame adversity and triumphed in their battles.  At that time, our troops were considered heroes and were gratefully supported by American citizens who had also sacrificed to keep America strong and free.

So Memorial Day was always very special to my grandmother.  Every year, on the last Monday of May, my family would go with Grandma Edith  to the local florist to buy exquisite wreaths and bouquets of lilies and roses.  Not understanding the significance of the flowers when we were younger, my sisters and I loved to play with them.  For instance, we would pretend we were brides carrying the huge bouquets down the aisle.  We would sit in the back seat of the car holding the wreaths and bouquets on our laps and become intoxicated by the sweet, natural aroma that filled the car.

As my mother drove around town to various cemeteries, Grandma Edie would tell us stories about the Great Depression and World War II.  She would tell us about the way people supported and loved each other.  She would talk about the families that would gather together to cry over their losses and rejoice over the return of their sons.  At each of the cemeteries, Grandma would lovingly clean off the headstones and place flowers on the graves of her family and friends.  Many of the people Grandma honored had served in the war but many others were family members or friends who had shown love and support during the most trying times in America’s history.  Grandma believed that all people who stood up to adversity and fought for the rights of others bravely served our country.  The soldiers  on the battle field, the young women in the factories, the families rolling bandages, the people giving up chocolate and nylons, the teachers who instructed in bomb drill techniques, the souls crying over losses that were not even their own.  All had served and all should be honored.

So for Grandma Edith, Memorial Day was a day to respect all people who had lived, loved, served, gave of themselves, and took care of each other when America faced great adversity.  My family never celebrated Memorial Day in any other way.  We never went to barbeques or had parties.  We didn’t go to the opening of swimming pools and celebrate the coming of summer.  Thanks to my grandmother, the holiday always held a traditional meaning for my family.  We spent the day honoring all who served…at home and abroad.  And although I admit that as an adult, I no longer spend the day visiting gravesides, Memorial Day remains a day of quiet reflection and in appreciation for all who serve America…

….just as my wonderful grandma Edie had taught me.

 

 

 

 

Angels on Earth

The most amazing thing happened to me today.  No, I didn’t get engaged or win the lottery.  Something much better than that took place.  I left work at 3 pm and started to drive to the gym.  I really wasn’t feeling too well.  I had a terrible, throbbing headache that made me feel a little dizzy.  I think I was just feeling tired and overwhelmed, but, whatever the case, the headache convinced me that I probably needed to take a break.  So, instead of going directly to the gym like I normally do after work every day, I  decided to go to the local McDonalds, get a cup of tea, put my feet up, read my book, and allow myself at least a half hour of relaxation.

Fifteen minutes later, my plan had gone into effect.  I had a cool cup of iced tea on the table, my book opened in front of me, and my body slouched down in a booth at the back of the restaurant.  Thankfully, no one else was around.  It was quiet and peaceful and I was able to concentrate on my reading.  I felt my whole body relax as I started to take deep breaths.  I was beginning to feel a little better, but my head continued to pound.

I had only been hunkered down in the booth for about fifteen minutes when a group of young girls suddenly walked into my tiny private oasis   The four girls appeared to be about thirteen-years-old.  They were dressed in colorful tank tops and cotton shorts.  Each of the girls had her red or blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.  Well-worn baseball caps were perched on the top of their heads.

Of course, being young kids, they were prone to running, yelling, and laughing hysterically over nothing at all.  The girls giggled innocently whenever boys’ names were mentioned and they shrieked with excitement as they pushed and tickled each other.  It was a little difficult to tune the girls out.  They were sitting in a large booth directly across the aisle from me.  Surprisingly, though, all of the noise didn’t bother me.  I guess I was so relaxed that the clamor didn’t really disturb me.

But instead of staying focused on my book, my mind drifted back to something that had happened a few months ago.  Again, I had been relaxing with my book at McDonald’s when two young boys came into the restaurant.  The boys were loud!  They screamed and yelled and cursed each other rudely.  I had to literally bite my tongue not to respond.  I was especially irritated when one of the boys kept purposely sliding across the floor making a loud screech sound that sent my nerves jangling.  I tried to overlook it but the “tennis-shoe screeching” was impossible to ignore.  I started to pack up my books and get ready to leave even though I had only been at the restaurant for twenty minutes.  But suddenly I came to a sliding stop before I had scooched all the way off the bench of the booth.  I was brought to stunned silence as one of the  boys began to sing.  His voice was deep and rich and absolutely beautiful as he sang the words to a gospel hymn.  I don’t know what had inspired the boy to start singing out loud, but I found myself smiling and taking long deep breaths.  Then I settled back into the booth, opened my book again and completely relaxed as the boy continued to sing.  Once he finished the song, he smiled brilliantly and the two boys left the restaurant.  They  left me in peace and feeling calmer and more inspired than I had been a few minutes before.

So now, I took a deep breath as the young girls laughed and played around me.  Suddenly, one of the girls got up from the table and walked towards me.  I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she approached my booth.  I started to panic for a moment as I began to wonder how much cash I had on me.  I thought at first she was going to ask me for money or that she and her friends were selling Girl Scout cookies and wanted me to buy a box.  I couldn’t think of any other reason why this young girl would suddenly be standing directly in front of me.  I remained sitting in the booth as the girl stared down at me.  I slowly pulled my eyes away from my book and looked up at her.  Then the girl smiled brightly at me and said, “Hi.  How are you feeling today?  Are you having a good afternoon?”

“Yes,” I said, shocked by her politeness.  “I’m having a really good afternoon.

“Good,” the girl answered, “I just wanted to check.”  And then she turned and walked away.

“Thank you,” I called after her.  I was completely touched by the girl’s kind gesture.  “That was so sweet of you.”

The girl just turned and smiled at me before joining her friends at the table where the girls again behaved exactly like thirteen-year-olds normally do.  I continued though to wonder at the girl’s behavior.  Why would a young girl out with her friends even bother with an “old” woman like me?  I had just been sitting there reading my book.  I couldn’t imagine what had ever inspired the girl to talk to me.  But it didn’t really matter.  My headache was gone!  And I couldn’t stop smiling as I turned my attention back to my book and sipped my iced tea.

Twenty minutes later, I decided I was ready to go to the gym.  I got up from my table and walked over to trashcan which was next to the young girls’ table.  “Have a good afternoon,” I said to them as I threw away my cup.  “Bye!  Bye!” the girls started screaming in their excited, high-pitched voices.  I turned around and walked across the restaurant to the door.  I stepped outside and thought about those young girls as I walked to my car.  I said a silent prayer that God would bless and keep the girls safe.  I thought about what the future held for those girls who probably didn’t know yet that they were experiencing some of the best moments of their lives right now.  They were young and silly and happy…and that’s what I hoped life continued to offer to them.

I got in my car, started it up, and backed out of my parking space.  I drove towards the exit but came to a sudden stop when I saw the young girls skipping across the parking lot.  I stopped to let them safely walk to the grassy area on the other side of the lot.  Suddenly, one of the girls looked at me and smiled.  She shouted “Bye” at me as she enthusiastically waved her hand towards me.  This movement got the attention of the other girls as they all now excitedly waved to me and called out good-byes.  I waved back as tears stung my eyes.  Such beautiful young girls…I prayed once more for their protection as they walked across the grass towards the houses on the other side of the street.

So, see, something wonderful happened to me today.  Four young girls were kind to this “old” woman and it made my head and my heart feel so much better.  This is another moment in my life that I will hold on to and bury like treasure deep inside my soul.  For even though I have had so many momentous occasions in my life, it is these random acts of kindness that create my most precious memories.  And the fact that this moment was created by thirteen-year-old girls gives me great hope that the world will continue to experience kindness in the midst of so much chaos.  There are angels still on this earth…I meet four giggly, happy,  silly  ones today!

Surprise Attack

Several years ago, I decided to take a long weekend trip to San Diego.  I really wanted to go to SeaWorld and the zoo.  I love animals and thought that this would be a fun getaway.  My mini-vacation was joyful and going really well until an odd occurrence happened at SeaWorld.  After walking around the park for a while and playing with the penguins and sea creatures, I decided to go to the arena and see the dog show.  The bleachers were packed with people cheering, clapping, and laughing as intelligent, beautiful dogs jumped through hoops and raced around the colorful stage.

When the show ended, I stood up and joined the crowd of people moving towards the exit of the arena.  Because there were so many people and only one narrow exit, the audience became somewhat bottlenecked as we tried to leave.  I just kept staring straight ahead as I shuffled along in small steps with the rest of the crowd.  When I was about four feet away from the exit, the throng came to a sudden stop.  I stood in the middle of the crowd, staring straight ahead and keeping surprisingly patient.  I guess I was just in a great mood after seeing the amazing dogs.  I just love dogs.  I think they are so…

HEY, WHAT WAS THAT?

To my surprise, I suddenly felt something smack against the back of my head.  Though I was shocked, I choose to ignore the situation.  The hit didn’t hurt me.  Besides, I just figured that since I was in such a large crowd of people accidents were bound to happen.  People were going to stumble over each other.  Bodies were going to collide together.  People were going to get hit on the back of the head.  These were just accidents; nothing was intended.  Just let it go.  I didn’t show any reaction at all.  I was sure the smack was just an awkward mishap.  I just took a deep breath and continued scuffling forward with the rest of the crowd.

BUT THEN SOMEONE HIT ME AGAIN!

This time the smack was a little harder but otherwise it was the same as before.  A quick sharp whack swooped across the top of my head.  Accident, just an accident, I told myself again, though I could feel my face beginning to beat red and my hands curl into fists.  Except for sweeping my hand over the top of my head to make sure there were no foreign articles tangled in my hair, I choose to ignore the sudden, surprising contact.  I kept my eyes focused on the exit and sighed deeply as the crowd surged forward once more.

BUT THEN I WAS HIT A THIRD TIME!  A THIRD TIME!  I couldn’t believe it!

For the third time, something or someone smacked me directly on top of the head.  Now, I was MAD!  This was no accident.  Someone was hitting me purposely.  This was intentional!  Why?  Situations teased through my mind.  Maybe I had a bug in my hair someone was trying to remove for me.  Maybe there were bees around and someone was trying to swat them away.  What if someone behind me thought I wasn’t moving quickly enough and was trying to force me to walk faster?  This was mean!  This was cruel!  Why would anyone think he or she had the right to put his or her hands on me for any reason, especially to hit me?  I just wanted to have a good time, and I didn’t want to argue with anyone.  I had been trying to avoid a confrontation, but now I felt like I had no choice.  I would have to deal with the situation or be beaten absolutely senseless before I made it to the exit.

A quick small slap suddenly landed on the side of my head as I spun around to face my assailant.  I turned and came face to face with…a baby!  A BABY!?  Oh, my goodness, the child couldn’t have been more than a year old.  She had bright, sparkly, clear, brown eyes, beautiful pure skin, and dark hair that was hanging down in chunky spikes all over her head.  Some of her thick hair was  tied with a red ribbon into a poofy little sprout that shot straight up and then over on all sides as if the baby had a miniature little chocolate fountain on the top of her head.  She was dressed in a ruffly, little, pink sunsuit.  I have never been assaulted by anyone wearing a cute sunsuit and red ribbons before.

I was shocked to see that my abuser, my tormentor, my adversary was about twenty inches tall and weighed approximately nineteen pounds.  This was not at all what I had expected, especially when the child smiled a big, three-toothed, gummy grin as I stared into her tiny adorable face.  Now, the baby was all excited.  “Hi, Hi, Hi!” she started shouting to me as she waved her little hands frantically.  I stared at the child and watched as her tall, attractive, sun-glassed father tried to hang on to her with his right arm and hold the child’s hands down with his left.  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered to me as the baby continued her chatter of “HiHiHiHiHi!”  “I really tried to make her stop hitting you,” the father was saying.  “She just really wanted to meet you.  I think she just likes your red hair.”

I told the baby hello and reached out for one of her little hands.  I shook the baby’s hand and said Hello back to her and then introduced myself.  I couldn’t stop laughing.  I had been getting angry over what I had assumed was an assault, an insult, rude behavior, hatefulness…and my hater was  actually a baby who just  wanted to say hello.  I walked with the baby and her father until we finally reached the exit and then went our separate ways.

I thought about the situation as I continued walking through the park and watching all of the animals.  I couldn’t stop smiling.  It’s funny how we judge situations before realizing what’s really happening.  How many times in my life have I been angry?  How many times have I gone off on tangents and raged over situations that turned out to be completely different from what I had imagined?  My reality is usually so different from any of my pre-conceived or conditioned viewpoints?  So funny that the times I have been so upset have usually proven to be nothing at all.  How many times have I worried, stressed, and been angry over situations that turned out to be to my advantage?  Lessons to be learned or good things coming my way.  Because sometimes what we fear or what we believe to be a threat is really nothing more than a blessing, a message, or a baby who just wants to say Hi!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peaceful Days

Tuesday, March 14, 2016, was a great day!  Oh, I didn’t do anything special. I wasn’t on some romantic adventure or wandering off to exotic faraway places.  I wasn’t hang gliding or zip lining or skydiving.  Tuesday was quiet, but it was still a great day.

I woke up around 9:00 am.  That is sleeping late for me.  I used to wake up around seven every morning.  But for the last six months, I had been working early morning hours.  My workday starts at 4 am.  So, staying in bed until 9:00 is a luxury.  I stretched, stumbled out of bed, and quickly dressed.  I left my room and walked through the quiet house.  By now, my sister-in-law, Mary, was gone for the day.  My brother, Tony, was already hard at work.  Over the past few weeks, Tony has been diligently working in the backyard every day.  He has been clearing away all of the brush and saplings that have collected and overgrown the fence line.  A few days ago, I asked Tony why he was cutting all of the young trees away.  He responded that there were too many of them.  As I listened to him explain the situation to me, I was suddenly fascinated with the strength and determination inherent in all forces of nature.  Tony told me that he didn’t plant any of the trees.  The saplings were from acorns that had been blown by the wind or were dropped by the numerous squirrels running throughout the yard.  The acorns had taken hold and grown roots deep into the soil which caused areas of the ground to buckle and cave.

“And look at this, Jamie,” Tony exclaimed as he pointed to several of the trees that were growing near the chain link fence.  The trees were growing so full and strong that their trunks had grown around the fence; the saplings had made the metal a part of their overall existence.  Metal had become embedded and absorbed by the wood.  As the trees grew, they had started lifting the fence with the steel poles up out of the ground.  Tony and Mary were concerned about the gaps at the bottom of the fence that were growing big enough for their three little dogs to slide through.  I was amazed when Tony showed me this phenomenon.  I guess nothing is stronger than every living thing’s natural inherent force to live, grow, and thrive.

I was amazed by the sight but still expressed some regret.  “It is too bad, though, that the trees can’t just grow free.  It’s sad that you have to cut them down.”

“Yeah,” Tony laughed, “now where are all of the little fairies going to live?”

I should have never told my brother that I believe in all magical and mystical things.  I didn’t mean it quite that literally but he is forever teasing me now about fairies, pixies, and unicorns running through the backyard.

Now, Tuesday morning, I smiled as I stood by the back door and watched Tony working so hard to clear away the yard.  I have always hated yard work.  I don’t like working under the hot sun or the feel of pulling weeds out of the ground.  But now, thinking about the information Tony shared with me, I slipped on my shoes and walked out the back door.  Before long, I was working side by side with my brother clearing away all of the brush that could create a dangerous fire hazard.  As we worked together, Tony and I shared stories, laughed, and teased.  As I worked, I watched the three little dogs running around the yard and digging up holes.  Every now and then, I would drop my gardening tools and chase them around in our own crazy, made up version of tag.  The dogs didn’t always play fair, but that’s okay; it was only a game.  The laughter and the playing made the work fun and enjoyable, and to my surprise, I suddenly found that I enjoyed yard work.  I loved the feel of the damp soil in my hands and the solid ground beneath my feet.  I loved working with the gardening tools and felt as if I was sculpting a more peaceful, danger -free environment.  I loved being outside and breathing the fresh air and for once I didn’t mind at all feeling the sun beating against my skin.

Tony and I worked together on the yard for several hours and had cleared away one small section before finally coming to a stop.  I felt flushed with the excitement of hard work and accomplishment.

After cleaning up and putting away the equipment, Tony and I grabbed a quick lunch together before he cleaned up and left for his job.  In a peaceful frame of mind, I spent the rest of the day, cleaning and organizing, writing, and pampering the dogs, who continued to demand my attention.  Once again, the dogs cuddled with me as we heard a bit of lazy thunder rolling around outside.  A few cool raindrops hit the house and front porch.  Little Starburst especially seemed anxious about the weather.  While the other two dogs began to relax on their own, Starburst stayed right with me.  She sat by my chair as I worked on the computer and refused to leave my side.  I didn’t mind.  I love bonding with the dogs and I’m always happy when they feel the need for my company.

Starburst was having an additional problem though.  I noticed it when she finally got up and walked across the hardwood floor in the family room

“Starburst, what’s going on?”  I asked her as if I really believed she would answer me.  “You sound like your tap dancing.”  Seriously, as she walked across the floor there was a continuous tap, tap, tap sound.  I easily picked her small furry body up into my arms and looked at her paws.  She had been out digging a small hole in the backyard earlier that morning and a tiny stone had gotten tangled up in the long hair around her right paw.  I tried desperately to snatch the stone away from her, but she continually jerked away from me.  Finally, I just cradled Starburst on my lap as I worked at the computer and waited for my sister-in-law to come home.  Together, Mary and I cut the stone away from Starburst’s paw and, once more, the dog was quietly trooping around the house.  I smiled as I watched her run and play with the other dogs.  It really felt good to take care of another living creature even in a very small way.

After a pleasant conversation with Mary and working on my latest writing project, I finally settled down into bed.  It had been such a pleasant day.  I didn’t do anything special.  I didn’t leave the house.  But I could not ignore the sense of peace and contentment that filled me.  And maybe that’s what counting blessings is really all about.  It’s enjoying those peaceful quiet moments in life.  It’s the ability to sit patiently and feel fulfilled.  I don’t always have days like this.  Many times, I am impatient for something to happen!  But now, I need to remember in my most anxious moments, that true contentment comes from the inside.  The ability to find bliss in quiet moments is a great gift.  I will probably never find happiness outside myself if I am not at peace first.  Just allowing life to happen without any preconceived notions is when I am always the happiest.

I fell into a contented sleep that night with my favorite Bible quote (Psalm 46:10) running through my head:

Be still and know that I am God (King James Bible)

Cease striving and know that I am God (New American Standard Bible)

Be still…something I rarely am but something I need to do more in my life.  I look forward to more quiet and happy days.  Be still… quiet days are filled with deep meaning and endless blessings …