I Believe--
I believe in surrounding my life with people who know how to laugh and cry. I believe that love is the greatest gift we can ever give or take with us. I believe that making new friends adds to the richness of our lives. I believe that chocolate must be eaten at least twice a day. I believe that fall evenings are magical. I believe that choice is sometimes very difficult. I believe that we all have to make changes in our lives from time to time. I believe that holding onto beliefs that are not productive is such a waste of our precious time. I believe that a smile can change a day. I believe that shared moments with family are the stuff of life. I believe that grandchildren are the absolute best. I believe I need to get serious about shedding a few pounds. Yes, I do. I believe that stopping and listening to the sounds around us renews our sense of wonder. I believe that walking in a gentle rain with no umbrella is delightful. I believe that listening to others is a gift we can give. I believe that reconnecting with old friends is priceless. I believe that growing older means I don't care what I say anymore. Love that!:) I believe that splashing through puddles is not for children only. I believe that seeing the night sky and marveling at its beauty puts us in touch with a higher power. I believe that quiet in a busy life grounds us. I believe that milkshakes are a necessary part of life. I believe that helping others succeed is what we should do. I believe that we are all here with a purpose. I believe that everyone is God's child. I believe that gathering around a table to talk about important issues helps us understand other people's point of view. I believe that I know so little. I believe that youth is wasted on youth! I believe that we can all help to make this world such a better place. I believe that I have company about to arrive. Gotta run. But, I believe that you are special. And I am grateful that you take the time from your busy day to read what I believe!
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Share the Love
Share the Love--
With all the challenges this world is experiencing at this moment in time, sometimes I feel overwhelmed. What can one little old lady do to make this world a more peaceful and loving place? I have asked that question over and over. Each time I ask it, the same response appears in my mind. That response is not much. How discouraging for me that I can not think of one way to make this world a better place. Nevertheless, I continue to ask the question expecting an answer.
Since I am not super rich, I cannot fly all over the world with medicines and doctors to administer them. I cannot bring groups together at a table to talk. To get to know one another as individuals instead of groups. It seems to me that when we know people as individuals, we develop a greater understanding of them and of ourselves. I cannot protect people from violence. Wait a minute. Maybe I am looking at this through the wrong lens.
Instead of thinking about what I cannot do, perhaps I should turn my attention to what I can do. It is true I will not be traveling to far away places to solve multiple problems. In place of airline tickets, I can research my own area and see where I can do the most good. Many agencies need help. Maybe I can be one of those who provide what they need.
Food for those who do not have enough. Clothes for those who have need. Shoes to protect especially since it won't be long before the weather turns cold. Coats and blankets to bring warmth. Yes, there is much I can do right here. I might even meet a new friend along the way while doing what I can to meet needs.
The beauty of this type of care is no one has to know what is given. It can be done quietly. No need for newspaper articles or television recognition. It is more than enough to know that someone will be warm and have a full tummy. That children will have a coat and gloves for the cold winter that is just around the corner.
I have been thinking about ways to help that are specific to a group of people. Women who find themselves in dire need would appreciate the bare essentials for themselves as they spend their time thinking and worrying about how to care for their children. They hardly ever think about their own needs. What if some of us decided that we would do something very special for women? What if we set a goal of say 100 pairs of socks, or 100 pairs of new underwear, or 100 pairs of shoes? What if we decided that this would be done before the holidays? What if we asked for money or the items? What if we did this? Oh my. I am getting excited just thinking about this. I think there are many women out there who are reading this who would join together to care for women who are challenged by life. Sometimes through no fault of their own. Yes, I think this will work. The idea is forming in my mind.
So, I am asking you-each of you who are reading this-to make this a reality for 100 women. Shall we start with 100 pairs of underwear? New. Shall we gather these garments and present them to a group that provides care for women who have been abused? Or are in safe houses? Are you beginning to think about the difference this would make?
My new mantra is "Share the Love." This mantra begins with a verb. An action verb. It tells me to do something loving. To show care to those who need a lift in this life. Love can be mushy. But, it can also be an act of kindness and care. That is the type of love I am speaking to you and me about.
While I can certainly do this myself, I would love to have others join me in providing for women who find themselves in need of the basics of life. Together we can make a difference. A real difference in the lives of others.
I am looking forward to hearing from many of you. Why wouldn't we want to do this? I can think of no good reason.
"Share the love."
With all the challenges this world is experiencing at this moment in time, sometimes I feel overwhelmed. What can one little old lady do to make this world a more peaceful and loving place? I have asked that question over and over. Each time I ask it, the same response appears in my mind. That response is not much. How discouraging for me that I can not think of one way to make this world a better place. Nevertheless, I continue to ask the question expecting an answer.
Since I am not super rich, I cannot fly all over the world with medicines and doctors to administer them. I cannot bring groups together at a table to talk. To get to know one another as individuals instead of groups. It seems to me that when we know people as individuals, we develop a greater understanding of them and of ourselves. I cannot protect people from violence. Wait a minute. Maybe I am looking at this through the wrong lens.
Instead of thinking about what I cannot do, perhaps I should turn my attention to what I can do. It is true I will not be traveling to far away places to solve multiple problems. In place of airline tickets, I can research my own area and see where I can do the most good. Many agencies need help. Maybe I can be one of those who provide what they need.
Food for those who do not have enough. Clothes for those who have need. Shoes to protect especially since it won't be long before the weather turns cold. Coats and blankets to bring warmth. Yes, there is much I can do right here. I might even meet a new friend along the way while doing what I can to meet needs.
The beauty of this type of care is no one has to know what is given. It can be done quietly. No need for newspaper articles or television recognition. It is more than enough to know that someone will be warm and have a full tummy. That children will have a coat and gloves for the cold winter that is just around the corner.
I have been thinking about ways to help that are specific to a group of people. Women who find themselves in dire need would appreciate the bare essentials for themselves as they spend their time thinking and worrying about how to care for their children. They hardly ever think about their own needs. What if some of us decided that we would do something very special for women? What if we set a goal of say 100 pairs of socks, or 100 pairs of new underwear, or 100 pairs of shoes? What if we decided that this would be done before the holidays? What if we asked for money or the items? What if we did this? Oh my. I am getting excited just thinking about this. I think there are many women out there who are reading this who would join together to care for women who are challenged by life. Sometimes through no fault of their own. Yes, I think this will work. The idea is forming in my mind.
So, I am asking you-each of you who are reading this-to make this a reality for 100 women. Shall we start with 100 pairs of underwear? New. Shall we gather these garments and present them to a group that provides care for women who have been abused? Or are in safe houses? Are you beginning to think about the difference this would make?
My new mantra is "Share the Love." This mantra begins with a verb. An action verb. It tells me to do something loving. To show care to those who need a lift in this life. Love can be mushy. But, it can also be an act of kindness and care. That is the type of love I am speaking to you and me about.
While I can certainly do this myself, I would love to have others join me in providing for women who find themselves in need of the basics of life. Together we can make a difference. A real difference in the lives of others.
I am looking forward to hearing from many of you. Why wouldn't we want to do this? I can think of no good reason.
"Share the love."
Friday, September 26, 2014
Do We Ever Really Own Anything?
Do We Ever Really Own Anything?
I was thinking about how fun it would be to have a new house. One that has all the rooms one needs. One that hasn't been lived in by anyone else. A place with spaces to create. Art to hang. Colors on walls. One to own for a long time.
As I was thinking about all of that, a new thought began to worm its way into my mind. A thought that would not float away. It had to do with ownership.
We love to own things. A home, a car, furniture, art, jewelry, boats. When we pay for these things, we believe we own them. They are ours. We might have a mortgage, a loan, a credit card to pay for our fine things, We believe we own them once we take possession. We enjoy being able to live in our house, drive our car, sit on our furniture, wear our jewelry, study our art, ride on the water in our boat. Or maybe we have a motorcycle. Or a pool. Whatever suits our wants and needs, that is where our money goes. We enjoy sharing what we own with our family and friends. Life would be rather meaningless without others to share it with.
Here is the thought that would not leave me. We never really own anything. We are given the privilege of use for as long as we choose. But, things always pass to another generation or to new owners. The piece of land where my house sets will eventually belong to another person. And a person after that. It will pass through many hands. It is my responsibility to care for it so that those who come after will enjoy all the beauty that others have created.
We are the caretakers of our earth. We are given the wonderful opportunity to enjoy this planet and all that is on it for a finite amount of time. While we are here, this earth is in our care. While she spins in space, she has no control over how we treat her. She simply continues to give and give and give. Understanding that nothing is forever helps us value all the good that surrounds us. Our homes and all our possessions are gifts to be enjoyed for a little while. But, when we think outside our own space and realize that how we care for this earth will impact future generations, we know that we are to do more than simply enjoy. We are to become responsible stewards.
Sure, I will continue to use the word own. I will say that I own this house, this car, these art pieces. But, I know that this will end for me. Someone else will love this little piece of land. This car will eventually end up as metal to be used in another car. These art pieces will be moved to new locations or pitched in the trash. And that is all just fine. It is life moving forward. It is life being enjoyed for the time we have use of it.
Maybe understanding this gives us a new way of looking at life. Maybe we can relax and enjoy those things that we have without them owning us.
I was thinking about how fun it would be to have a new house. One that has all the rooms one needs. One that hasn't been lived in by anyone else. A place with spaces to create. Art to hang. Colors on walls. One to own for a long time.
As I was thinking about all of that, a new thought began to worm its way into my mind. A thought that would not float away. It had to do with ownership.
We love to own things. A home, a car, furniture, art, jewelry, boats. When we pay for these things, we believe we own them. They are ours. We might have a mortgage, a loan, a credit card to pay for our fine things, We believe we own them once we take possession. We enjoy being able to live in our house, drive our car, sit on our furniture, wear our jewelry, study our art, ride on the water in our boat. Or maybe we have a motorcycle. Or a pool. Whatever suits our wants and needs, that is where our money goes. We enjoy sharing what we own with our family and friends. Life would be rather meaningless without others to share it with.
Here is the thought that would not leave me. We never really own anything. We are given the privilege of use for as long as we choose. But, things always pass to another generation or to new owners. The piece of land where my house sets will eventually belong to another person. And a person after that. It will pass through many hands. It is my responsibility to care for it so that those who come after will enjoy all the beauty that others have created.
We are the caretakers of our earth. We are given the wonderful opportunity to enjoy this planet and all that is on it for a finite amount of time. While we are here, this earth is in our care. While she spins in space, she has no control over how we treat her. She simply continues to give and give and give. Understanding that nothing is forever helps us value all the good that surrounds us. Our homes and all our possessions are gifts to be enjoyed for a little while. But, when we think outside our own space and realize that how we care for this earth will impact future generations, we know that we are to do more than simply enjoy. We are to become responsible stewards.
Sure, I will continue to use the word own. I will say that I own this house, this car, these art pieces. But, I know that this will end for me. Someone else will love this little piece of land. This car will eventually end up as metal to be used in another car. These art pieces will be moved to new locations or pitched in the trash. And that is all just fine. It is life moving forward. It is life being enjoyed for the time we have use of it.
Maybe understanding this gives us a new way of looking at life. Maybe we can relax and enjoy those things that we have without them owning us.
Monday, September 22, 2014
Drama On and Off the Field--
Drama On and Off the Field--
Last Sunday we took a road trip. We had tickets to watch the St. Louis Rams play the Dallas Cowboys in St. Louis. It was a beautiful day. Perfect for a little car time.
The stadium was full. We were surprised to see as many or more Dallas fans as Ram's fans. One Ram's fan had on a short blue skirt, fuzzy blue knee socks, blue shiny jewelry, a painted face with blue around her eyes and hair that was done in a blue do. She made quite a presence. I loved her outfit. Takes a lot of courage to do your own thing when everyone else's idea of dressing for the game might be a jersey with their favorite player's number. Some folks simply like to stand out.
Our seats were seven rows from the field. They were great. We felt like we were part of the action. Being almost level with the players was a new experience for me. Some of those guys are monsters. They are huge.
Everything was going well until around the fourth quarter. Dallas pulled ahead of the Rams. It was pretty exciting. Everyone knew it could go either way. In fact, for a bit the score was tied. Overtime was a definite possibility. At the absolute last few seconds Dallas intercepted the ball, and the game ended.
For the first time in my life of attending sporting events, I thought a fight was eminent. A young man was seated two rows down in front of us. He was a Cowboy fan. He would stand up and yell even though he was surrounded by Ram's fans. He would address certain people and make them uncomfortable. His language became quite nasty, and he accused everyone sitting around him of harrassing him. People tried to calm him, but it was evident it was only going to get worse.
At one point the young red headed man with small children, whose seat was next to this guy, left for a bit. When he returned, the loud mouth was in his seat. He asked in a very kind and polite manner for his seat. The guy refused. That was the first moment when I thought it might get ugly. Security was summonded. Before they could arrive, a fellow behind us tried to calm the unruly guy down. It didn't work. They were on their way to meet and duke it out when finally security arrived.
As I watched and listened, and you had to listen because it was practically in your lap, I thought about how nasty people can be. All around this young man were people who were trying to calm him down. They were trying to reason with him. He wasn't interested in anything but what he had to say, and who he was ready to hit. Security stayed with him until the game ended. They should have escorted him out of the building. I don't know why they didn't.
It was so interesting to watch this man and his behavior. He was probably in his 20's. You know the type--has all the answers and talks when everyone else is. Loud and rude. I wondered why he behaved the way he did. Wondered why he thought it ok to accuse others of whatever was on his mind. It was sad, really. And certainly a learning experience. Was glad the children had been taken away by the time it got really ugly.
In spite of all the drama, we had a great time. As we were leaving, I wondered what the rest of the day would look like for this young man. My hope is he calmed down and walked away peacefully. I fear for him and his safety.
Even though he would never guess, he provided all of us with a great lesson in how not to behave in a public arena and how to push people far, far away. He would say he didn't care. But, I think he does care. You could see it in his eyes.
It was evening when we arrived safely back home. The interesting thing about all the events that took place is this. We talked about plays. We talked about passes and defense. We spent no time talking about him. That would suprise him, I am sure.
A Delicate Situation--
A Delicate Situation--
So many experiences in life. Some I try to forget, some make me laugh, others make me cringe. This one does all three at once.
It was spring. Time for the school band to travel to another town about an hour away to be judged. I did not teach band. I did accompany many band students at contests so I knew all the students. Many were quite talented.
The adjudication was very early on a Saturday morning. The band teacher asked me to accompany the group. Ride the bus on a Saturday. Was he out of his mind? He explained that he needed a woman in case the girls in the band had any challenges. Very reluctantly I agreed.
It was quite cool that early Saturday morning. You will understand later why I am telling you what I wore that day. I wore a dress, slip, panty hose. I also wore a long rain coat with a belt. Everyone was dressed in their best as that was part of the experience.
We boarded the bus and began the hour long trip. Kids were sleepy. So was I. When we arrived, everyone unloaded and headed into the school. I would be last off. Just before I stood to leave, someone tapped my shoulder. There was a problem.
Now this is a bit delicate. A young woman wearing white pants had that accident all women fear. After sending the friend into the school, a plan began to materialize in my mind. She was a very important part of the band. She had to perform. I had no car to make a run to a store. Besides, there were only minutes before the doors would close behind the band, and the performance would begin.
Quickly I handed her my raincoat. I instructed her to grab her instrument, and we raced into the school looking for a bathroom. Once inside, I told her to undress. To hand her clothes to me under the stall. I undressed in my stall. Off came my dress, my slip, my panty hose. I handed them under to her. How interesting that they all fit her. Once dressed, off she ran to join the band.
So there I was in a bathroom stall before 8 AM with underwear, a raincoat and a pair of shoes. I buttoned all the buttons on that coat, tied the belt and slipped into my shoes. They were closing the doors to the gym just as I arrived. I was able to scoot in and listen to the band. They played beautifully.
After everyone was loaded on the bus, we began the hour trip home. As spring days will, it became warm. The band teacher and I talked about how well the kids performed. He was so pleased. And then he mentioned that the bus was getting hot. Would I like to remove my coat? He would be glad to drap it across the bar in front of the seat.
Well, no, I wouldn't. He had no idea what had happened. He had no idea that sitting beside him was a teacher dressed only in underwear, a raincoat and a pair of shoes. That isn't something one shares. All the way back to the school, I prayed that no accident occured. I could see newspaper headlines about a teacher dressed only in....
Thinking back on my college days and the education courses I took, I do not remember a single one that instructed me how to handle this type of crisis. Some things simply come to you when the need arrives.
Only one of the many unusual experiences of my teaching career.
So many experiences in life. Some I try to forget, some make me laugh, others make me cringe. This one does all three at once.
It was spring. Time for the school band to travel to another town about an hour away to be judged. I did not teach band. I did accompany many band students at contests so I knew all the students. Many were quite talented.
The adjudication was very early on a Saturday morning. The band teacher asked me to accompany the group. Ride the bus on a Saturday. Was he out of his mind? He explained that he needed a woman in case the girls in the band had any challenges. Very reluctantly I agreed.
It was quite cool that early Saturday morning. You will understand later why I am telling you what I wore that day. I wore a dress, slip, panty hose. I also wore a long rain coat with a belt. Everyone was dressed in their best as that was part of the experience.
We boarded the bus and began the hour long trip. Kids were sleepy. So was I. When we arrived, everyone unloaded and headed into the school. I would be last off. Just before I stood to leave, someone tapped my shoulder. There was a problem.
Now this is a bit delicate. A young woman wearing white pants had that accident all women fear. After sending the friend into the school, a plan began to materialize in my mind. She was a very important part of the band. She had to perform. I had no car to make a run to a store. Besides, there were only minutes before the doors would close behind the band, and the performance would begin.
Quickly I handed her my raincoat. I instructed her to grab her instrument, and we raced into the school looking for a bathroom. Once inside, I told her to undress. To hand her clothes to me under the stall. I undressed in my stall. Off came my dress, my slip, my panty hose. I handed them under to her. How interesting that they all fit her. Once dressed, off she ran to join the band.
So there I was in a bathroom stall before 8 AM with underwear, a raincoat and a pair of shoes. I buttoned all the buttons on that coat, tied the belt and slipped into my shoes. They were closing the doors to the gym just as I arrived. I was able to scoot in and listen to the band. They played beautifully.
After everyone was loaded on the bus, we began the hour trip home. As spring days will, it became warm. The band teacher and I talked about how well the kids performed. He was so pleased. And then he mentioned that the bus was getting hot. Would I like to remove my coat? He would be glad to drap it across the bar in front of the seat.
Well, no, I wouldn't. He had no idea what had happened. He had no idea that sitting beside him was a teacher dressed only in underwear, a raincoat and a pair of shoes. That isn't something one shares. All the way back to the school, I prayed that no accident occured. I could see newspaper headlines about a teacher dressed only in....
Thinking back on my college days and the education courses I took, I do not remember a single one that instructed me how to handle this type of crisis. Some things simply come to you when the need arrives.
Only one of the many unusual experiences of my teaching career.
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Garage Visitor--
Garage Visitor--
Update from the Wisdom County Home--
A Groundhog was just found nosing around in our garage. Have no idea what he/she might have been looking for. Now it is imperative we keep the garage door down.
Update from the Wisdom County Home--
A Groundhog was just found nosing around in our garage. Have no idea what he/she might have been looking for. Now it is imperative we keep the garage door down.
Not a Fan of Fall--
Not a Fan of Fall--
It's that time of year. Everyone is loving the cooler weather. Trees are beginning to turn those lovely colors. Football games add to the charm of fall. Days slowly become shorter. Sweaters and jackets are brought out. Blankets appear in baskets in the family room. Time to cover up while watching tv. Apple pie and cider fill the house with their aroma. Festivals abound in small towns. Everyone loves it.
I don't. Well, I do enjoy the cooler weather, the vibrant colors, the college football games. Festivals are fun, and anything to do with apples is yummy. But, that is as far as it goes with me. Yep. I am not a fan of fall. I realize that puts me at odds with almost every human alive on planet earth. I can handle that. Until there is a conversation about how wonderful fall is. I usually don't engage in those conversations. No need to spoil another's joy.
Why don't I like fall, you ask? Living in the Midwest means when fall arrives, winter is creeping in, too. Actually, winter never creeps in. It comes in with a shout, a roar. It swoops in like a hawk heading for a mouse. No warning. All of a sudden, there she is. Big and cold. For months and months and months. Oh my. Writing these words makes my heart heavy. (not really)
All the lovely plants in my yard and everywhere around this area begin to develop that look. You know the one I am writing about. They have the look of death. Beautiful flowers no longer bloom. Hosta begin to turn brown and wither away. Nothing has a fresh look about it. It all looks tired and weary. To keep the beds tidy, I pull and trim and cut all that dead stuff away. Trying to buy a little more time to enjoy them before they are all gone.
Leaves make their departure from heights they have enjoyed all summer. They cover the earth. While they do make beautiful piles to jump in, their journey to the ground means no green leaves for months and months. Soon trees will stand majestically against the wind, snow, rain with nothing to protect themselves. Poor things.
The boat will have to be removed from the lake. No more days spent cleaning layers and layers of bugs. How sad.
Fields of corn and soy beans will be no more. The earth where they grew will be void of any plant life. Acres and acres of empty fields with nothing growing. That landscape goes on and on. Certainly not depressing for farmers, but for those of us who yearn for mountains and streams, a bit lonely.
I hear people remarking that it is the time for the earth to rest. They say it gives something to look forward to. Really? Do these folks really look forward to being housebound with no electricity? Do they look forward to roads that require the driving skills of a race car driver to navigate?
Are you completely depressed by now? Well, don't be. Sometimes I enjoy taking the opposite point of view and seeing life through those lens. However, I still don't like fall. I enjoy the world putting on its best dress. Dolling up for all of us. Green, purple, red, yellow, orange, blue. I miss all those colors for all those months they are gone.
Yes, spring will return. The earth will warm. But right now I have to deal with fall. The end of everything giving all it has, and the beginning of the long wait.
Think a plane ticket is in the plans?:)
It's that time of year. Everyone is loving the cooler weather. Trees are beginning to turn those lovely colors. Football games add to the charm of fall. Days slowly become shorter. Sweaters and jackets are brought out. Blankets appear in baskets in the family room. Time to cover up while watching tv. Apple pie and cider fill the house with their aroma. Festivals abound in small towns. Everyone loves it.
I don't. Well, I do enjoy the cooler weather, the vibrant colors, the college football games. Festivals are fun, and anything to do with apples is yummy. But, that is as far as it goes with me. Yep. I am not a fan of fall. I realize that puts me at odds with almost every human alive on planet earth. I can handle that. Until there is a conversation about how wonderful fall is. I usually don't engage in those conversations. No need to spoil another's joy.
Why don't I like fall, you ask? Living in the Midwest means when fall arrives, winter is creeping in, too. Actually, winter never creeps in. It comes in with a shout, a roar. It swoops in like a hawk heading for a mouse. No warning. All of a sudden, there she is. Big and cold. For months and months and months. Oh my. Writing these words makes my heart heavy. (not really)
All the lovely plants in my yard and everywhere around this area begin to develop that look. You know the one I am writing about. They have the look of death. Beautiful flowers no longer bloom. Hosta begin to turn brown and wither away. Nothing has a fresh look about it. It all looks tired and weary. To keep the beds tidy, I pull and trim and cut all that dead stuff away. Trying to buy a little more time to enjoy them before they are all gone.
Leaves make their departure from heights they have enjoyed all summer. They cover the earth. While they do make beautiful piles to jump in, their journey to the ground means no green leaves for months and months. Soon trees will stand majestically against the wind, snow, rain with nothing to protect themselves. Poor things.
The boat will have to be removed from the lake. No more days spent cleaning layers and layers of bugs. How sad.
Fields of corn and soy beans will be no more. The earth where they grew will be void of any plant life. Acres and acres of empty fields with nothing growing. That landscape goes on and on. Certainly not depressing for farmers, but for those of us who yearn for mountains and streams, a bit lonely.
I hear people remarking that it is the time for the earth to rest. They say it gives something to look forward to. Really? Do these folks really look forward to being housebound with no electricity? Do they look forward to roads that require the driving skills of a race car driver to navigate?
Are you completely depressed by now? Well, don't be. Sometimes I enjoy taking the opposite point of view and seeing life through those lens. However, I still don't like fall. I enjoy the world putting on its best dress. Dolling up for all of us. Green, purple, red, yellow, orange, blue. I miss all those colors for all those months they are gone.
Yes, spring will return. The earth will warm. But right now I have to deal with fall. The end of everything giving all it has, and the beginning of the long wait.
Think a plane ticket is in the plans?:)
Friday, September 19, 2014
Jars, Bugs, Joy--
Jars, Bugs, Joy--
Our grandson learned to ride his bright, shiny bike today. How exciting for him. He can now get from Point A to Point B in record time. He can feel the wind in his face as he races down the driveway. Nothing like learning to ride a bike. His bright eyes and big smile show the delight he feels in knowing how to ride a two-wheeler. It truly is an accomplishment that will last a life-time.
Don't you simply love the joy that comes from mastering something new? It never gets old-this joy that washes over us when we finally gain a new skill. Yes, anything new that we don't quite get requires practice. It might be cooking, or running a 5K, or singing in front of a group of people. Whatever it is, the feeling is probably close to the same. Joy. Pure and simple. Joy. Laughter. Pride. And a desire to do that one thing again and again.
Wouldn't it be lovely if we could gather up that feeling of joy and happiness and put it in a jar? Maybe if we screwed the lid on tightly, it would remain close at hand when we need it. Who doesn't need a little laughter and joy? I needed a jar full yesterday.
We decided to visit our pontoon at the lake. Take a little ride and enjoy the quiet. Cruise slowly. Take in the beauty of the afternoon. It certainly sounded good. Spirits were high. It had been quite awhile since we had the time to enjoy the lake. Walking to the boat, my spirits began to sink just a bit. All the boats were covered with dead bugs. I don't mean a few scattered here and there. I mean a solid cover of dead, disgusting bugs covering everything. No doubt when we arrived at our slip our boat would look the same.
Well, actually it looked worse. We had intended to return to the lake and put the cover on the boat. We forgot to do that. It was covered, and I do mean covered, with dead insects. Spiders had built lovely webs from everyplace they could attach a web. There was not one section of the boat that was not plastered with dead bugs. I wanted to cry. Scream actually. There was nothing to do but try to get rid of them.
After an hour of wiping down seats, console, motor, deck, floor, we decided to move into the lake and finish what we could do as we cruised along. It was hard work. Dead bugs do not clean up easily. Elbow grease was required. Does it help to mutter nasty remarks while cleaning? I think it does.
By now you have probably figured out that there was not much laughter on the boat ride. How nice to have had that jar full of laughter and joy. Certainly would have opened it and breathed from its contents. To be honest, we did have a few laughs as we cleaned. I think we were so exhausted that simple things began to seem hysterical.
While I do not think cleaning dead bugs is a new skill we have acquired, I do think even this situation brings an occasion for laughter. Laughing at the stupid things we do-like not replacing the boat cover-takes away their importance. It was a bad decision we made when we left it open to whatever wanted a place to rest. If I were a bug, I would certainly enjoy a clean boat for my final resting place. And what spider wouldn't love to lay eggs in such a perfect spot? Even found a few white feathers. Guess the owner enjoyed a rest from all the flying around required if one is a bird.
The ability to laugh at our own mistakes means we understand how insignificant many things truly are. We give them more importance than they deserve when we get angry. We allow them to take away our joy. The bugs, spiders and birds did not do their nasty deeds simply to make me angry. They were being bugs, spiders and birds. Simple as that.
While I have learned a lesson from this, I think it would be a great idea to be able to take a jar full of laughter and joy with me everywhere I go. Not only for my own pleasure, but also to sprinkle over others making their day bright and shiny-just like a new bike.
Our grandson learned to ride his bright, shiny bike today. How exciting for him. He can now get from Point A to Point B in record time. He can feel the wind in his face as he races down the driveway. Nothing like learning to ride a bike. His bright eyes and big smile show the delight he feels in knowing how to ride a two-wheeler. It truly is an accomplishment that will last a life-time.
Don't you simply love the joy that comes from mastering something new? It never gets old-this joy that washes over us when we finally gain a new skill. Yes, anything new that we don't quite get requires practice. It might be cooking, or running a 5K, or singing in front of a group of people. Whatever it is, the feeling is probably close to the same. Joy. Pure and simple. Joy. Laughter. Pride. And a desire to do that one thing again and again.
Wouldn't it be lovely if we could gather up that feeling of joy and happiness and put it in a jar? Maybe if we screwed the lid on tightly, it would remain close at hand when we need it. Who doesn't need a little laughter and joy? I needed a jar full yesterday.
We decided to visit our pontoon at the lake. Take a little ride and enjoy the quiet. Cruise slowly. Take in the beauty of the afternoon. It certainly sounded good. Spirits were high. It had been quite awhile since we had the time to enjoy the lake. Walking to the boat, my spirits began to sink just a bit. All the boats were covered with dead bugs. I don't mean a few scattered here and there. I mean a solid cover of dead, disgusting bugs covering everything. No doubt when we arrived at our slip our boat would look the same.
Well, actually it looked worse. We had intended to return to the lake and put the cover on the boat. We forgot to do that. It was covered, and I do mean covered, with dead insects. Spiders had built lovely webs from everyplace they could attach a web. There was not one section of the boat that was not plastered with dead bugs. I wanted to cry. Scream actually. There was nothing to do but try to get rid of them.
After an hour of wiping down seats, console, motor, deck, floor, we decided to move into the lake and finish what we could do as we cruised along. It was hard work. Dead bugs do not clean up easily. Elbow grease was required. Does it help to mutter nasty remarks while cleaning? I think it does.
By now you have probably figured out that there was not much laughter on the boat ride. How nice to have had that jar full of laughter and joy. Certainly would have opened it and breathed from its contents. To be honest, we did have a few laughs as we cleaned. I think we were so exhausted that simple things began to seem hysterical.
While I do not think cleaning dead bugs is a new skill we have acquired, I do think even this situation brings an occasion for laughter. Laughing at the stupid things we do-like not replacing the boat cover-takes away their importance. It was a bad decision we made when we left it open to whatever wanted a place to rest. If I were a bug, I would certainly enjoy a clean boat for my final resting place. And what spider wouldn't love to lay eggs in such a perfect spot? Even found a few white feathers. Guess the owner enjoyed a rest from all the flying around required if one is a bird.
The ability to laugh at our own mistakes means we understand how insignificant many things truly are. We give them more importance than they deserve when we get angry. We allow them to take away our joy. The bugs, spiders and birds did not do their nasty deeds simply to make me angry. They were being bugs, spiders and birds. Simple as that.
While I have learned a lesson from this, I think it would be a great idea to be able to take a jar full of laughter and joy with me everywhere I go. Not only for my own pleasure, but also to sprinkle over others making their day bright and shiny-just like a new bike.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Merging Lanes-Disaster!
Merging Lanes-Disaster!
So, I am driving down the interstate when a sign announces that a lane will close in two miles. As I get closer to the lane closure, another sign informs that it is the left lane that will be closed in half a mile. With this knowledge, I pass one more semi truck and then settle into the right lane. And that is when the aggravation begins to slowly seep into my whole being.
Many vehicles have moved to the right lane in anticipation of the lane closure. However, flying past in the left lane are all those vehicles who also read the sign. For some unknown reason, they decided to continue in the left lane until it ends. What usually happens is as they near the place where they must merge, right blinkers appear. There is the expectation that those in the right lane who have been in the stop and go mode will allow them to move into the right lane and continue their journey.
A new wrinkle to this situation is when semi drivers pull their big rigs into the left lane thus forcing drivers to pull into the right lane. No cars can speed by. They must take their place in line. The right lane. They are performing such a great service to everyone. Those who have to allow the merge no longer feel the anger and frustration mounting. The lanes move at a slow but steady pace thus allowing little or no stopping and starting. I suppose those who are trapped by the semis are not particularly happy, but the rest of us are so grateful.
When I find myself in this situation, a person I don't recongnize appears. As more cars zip by in the left lane, my frustration grows. The first one or two cars that fly by--I think perhaps they didn't see the last sign. I understand that because it has happened to me. Then another ten or so cars pass, and my frustration begins to turn into something much more sinister. At this point I realize they know exactly what they are doing. They are making a run for it. They are going to race to the end and then expect some kind soul to allow them in. They could care less that the rest of us in the right lane have been allowing others to merge for thirty minutes. It is all about them. And now I am mad. I say outloud that if anyone turns on that blinker, I will close that gap and force someone behind me to let them in. Yes, that is what I will do. I will not allow them to get in front of me. Just let them try.
My hands grip the steering wheel. My decision is made. This is war. No one is going to edge me out of my rightful place on this strip of cement. No eye contact is made with the people in the left lane. They are now the enemy.
And then someone realizes what they have done. The car slows and the blinker appears. They don't want to wait until the last minute to ask permission to merge into the right lane. Maybe they were visiting with others in the car and lost track of time. Maybe they were in deep thought about some challenge they are facing. Perhaps they feel bad that they did this deed. And now they want me, yes me, to allow them to merge in front of me. It is the moment of truth. It is one of the defining moments of my life. Well, maybe it isn't that significant, but it is important. What will I do? How will I behave?
All I have to do is slow down just enough for them to edge into the right lane. It is only one car. But then, they should have been paying more attention.
So, I.....
So, I am driving down the interstate when a sign announces that a lane will close in two miles. As I get closer to the lane closure, another sign informs that it is the left lane that will be closed in half a mile. With this knowledge, I pass one more semi truck and then settle into the right lane. And that is when the aggravation begins to slowly seep into my whole being.
Many vehicles have moved to the right lane in anticipation of the lane closure. However, flying past in the left lane are all those vehicles who also read the sign. For some unknown reason, they decided to continue in the left lane until it ends. What usually happens is as they near the place where they must merge, right blinkers appear. There is the expectation that those in the right lane who have been in the stop and go mode will allow them to move into the right lane and continue their journey.
A new wrinkle to this situation is when semi drivers pull their big rigs into the left lane thus forcing drivers to pull into the right lane. No cars can speed by. They must take their place in line. The right lane. They are performing such a great service to everyone. Those who have to allow the merge no longer feel the anger and frustration mounting. The lanes move at a slow but steady pace thus allowing little or no stopping and starting. I suppose those who are trapped by the semis are not particularly happy, but the rest of us are so grateful.
When I find myself in this situation, a person I don't recongnize appears. As more cars zip by in the left lane, my frustration grows. The first one or two cars that fly by--I think perhaps they didn't see the last sign. I understand that because it has happened to me. Then another ten or so cars pass, and my frustration begins to turn into something much more sinister. At this point I realize they know exactly what they are doing. They are making a run for it. They are going to race to the end and then expect some kind soul to allow them in. They could care less that the rest of us in the right lane have been allowing others to merge for thirty minutes. It is all about them. And now I am mad. I say outloud that if anyone turns on that blinker, I will close that gap and force someone behind me to let them in. Yes, that is what I will do. I will not allow them to get in front of me. Just let them try.
My hands grip the steering wheel. My decision is made. This is war. No one is going to edge me out of my rightful place on this strip of cement. No eye contact is made with the people in the left lane. They are now the enemy.
And then someone realizes what they have done. The car slows and the blinker appears. They don't want to wait until the last minute to ask permission to merge into the right lane. Maybe they were visiting with others in the car and lost track of time. Maybe they were in deep thought about some challenge they are facing. Perhaps they feel bad that they did this deed. And now they want me, yes me, to allow them to merge in front of me. It is the moment of truth. It is one of the defining moments of my life. Well, maybe it isn't that significant, but it is important. What will I do? How will I behave?
All I have to do is slow down just enough for them to edge into the right lane. It is only one car. But then, they should have been paying more attention.
So, I.....
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Not Crazy About These Things
Not Crazy About These Things--
There are a few things I simply do not like to do. Take, for instance, what I was doing a few minutes ago. We have wood floors. While I really do enjoy the warmth they give to rooms, the floor in the kitchen causes me pain and distress. Between the planks everything that was once on counters, on the stove or in the refrigerator finds a place to hide. When I am in the cleaning mode, I sit on the floor and clean out the space between the planks. I do not like to do that. No, I don't.
Our water comes from a well. Yes, that means we need a water softner. Even with that huge gadget in the basement, sometimes the minerals from the water appears in the most annoying places. Like on my white clothes. Or in the toilets. Or on the glasses in the dishwasher. Scrubbing toilets is a necessary chore, and one I do not enjoy. If I don't engage in that activity, our toilets look like the worst service station bathroom you have ever seen. So, brush in hand, off I go to swish and splash so that toilets are sparkling. Clothes? Sometimes I have to use them as rags and purchase new ones. Country life can be wonderfully annoying.
Ironing is right up there on the list of things I don't think of as joy-producing. But, I do like to leave the house wearing clothes that look fresh. Not clothes that look like I slept in them. That has happened a few times. On those days when I need something quickly from the store, and I race in to get it wearing the sloppiest clothes I own..that is the day I see five to twenty people I know. No make-up, hair barely combed, paint clothes..And there they are. All the people I admire looking like they just walked out of a boutique and hair and nail salon. And aren't they just so polite as I make excuses for my appearance. I look just fine, they say. I honestly want to either crawl out the door or slap them for saying such lies.
Sometimes writing is an activity I don't enjoy. Words are everywhere. They are strung together in sentences and paragraphs. Enough paragraphs and you have an article, an email, a novel, a letter. Reading what someone has written leaves me with such a sense of wonder. How in the world did they actually sit still long enough to produce? Didn't they want to leave the words alone and take a walk? The hardest part for me is forcing myself to sit down, open the computer and begin. Once that task is completed, I can usually think of something to share. But, when I think too much about needing to write, I tend to see the computer as the enemy that is trying to lure me into a trap.
There is one more thing--well, there are several, but I am going to concentrate on this one--that I don't like to do. I have given this quite a bit of thought over the years. Some would say I am too stubborn to engage in this activity. They might also say that I see it as a weakness. Perhaps they are right on both counts. This is an activity that I will push down inside myself even when engaging in it would bring such blessed release. That one thing is crying.
Tears flow for many reasons. They fall quietly when I witness something very sweet. Maybe a couple exchanging vows, or a parent and child enjoying a moment together. They trail down my face when I am awed by the wonder and beauty of life itself. These are my moments. They are my special times. These tears are joyful, grateful tears. They represent the fabric of life. The blues that are calm, the reds that are spicy, the greens that are peaceful, the yellows that are joyous. They leave my eyes and heart and travel down my cheeks when I experience a special moment with a friend. Those tears tell another that I am right there with them. Where I truly want to be.
Then there are times when they flow because of saddness. A loved niece fights the battle with cancer. Cancer wins. Grandparents and parents leave this earth. Friends move. I move. Jobs are lost. People argue. Hurt surrounds. Hearts are broken. Relationships fail. This list is long. Whatever touches our lives and causes pain has the power to bring tears along for the ride. These tears can be healing. They can bring that release I spoke about earlier. They can help us clear our heads, hearts and minds. They are truly our friends. Sometimes after an especially long cry, we feel at peace. This peace maybe short-lived, but at least we can breathe for a moment and see that there is a way out. or around.
Ok. Maybe I don't hate to cry. The older I get--and those numbers are adding up to a big one--the more I realize that sharing life means laughing when things are funny and silly and crying when hurts surround. It is such a blessing to have a few people who don't mind the tears. In fact, they just might cry along with me. These are the really special ones. Let's be honest. Crying ruins eye make-up. Not to mention the reddness that surrounds the eyes and nose. There is not much pretty about sobbing. Or maybe there is. Maybe red eyes and noses and sniffles mark us as human. Maybe tears separate us from other life forms. Maybe because we have the ability to care, we will always have a tub of tears just under the surface waiting to be released.
This is from a book I read. Sometimes tears are the best words a heart can speak.
There are a few things I simply do not like to do. Take, for instance, what I was doing a few minutes ago. We have wood floors. While I really do enjoy the warmth they give to rooms, the floor in the kitchen causes me pain and distress. Between the planks everything that was once on counters, on the stove or in the refrigerator finds a place to hide. When I am in the cleaning mode, I sit on the floor and clean out the space between the planks. I do not like to do that. No, I don't.
Our water comes from a well. Yes, that means we need a water softner. Even with that huge gadget in the basement, sometimes the minerals from the water appears in the most annoying places. Like on my white clothes. Or in the toilets. Or on the glasses in the dishwasher. Scrubbing toilets is a necessary chore, and one I do not enjoy. If I don't engage in that activity, our toilets look like the worst service station bathroom you have ever seen. So, brush in hand, off I go to swish and splash so that toilets are sparkling. Clothes? Sometimes I have to use them as rags and purchase new ones. Country life can be wonderfully annoying.
Ironing is right up there on the list of things I don't think of as joy-producing. But, I do like to leave the house wearing clothes that look fresh. Not clothes that look like I slept in them. That has happened a few times. On those days when I need something quickly from the store, and I race in to get it wearing the sloppiest clothes I own..that is the day I see five to twenty people I know. No make-up, hair barely combed, paint clothes..And there they are. All the people I admire looking like they just walked out of a boutique and hair and nail salon. And aren't they just so polite as I make excuses for my appearance. I look just fine, they say. I honestly want to either crawl out the door or slap them for saying such lies.
Sometimes writing is an activity I don't enjoy. Words are everywhere. They are strung together in sentences and paragraphs. Enough paragraphs and you have an article, an email, a novel, a letter. Reading what someone has written leaves me with such a sense of wonder. How in the world did they actually sit still long enough to produce? Didn't they want to leave the words alone and take a walk? The hardest part for me is forcing myself to sit down, open the computer and begin. Once that task is completed, I can usually think of something to share. But, when I think too much about needing to write, I tend to see the computer as the enemy that is trying to lure me into a trap.
There is one more thing--well, there are several, but I am going to concentrate on this one--that I don't like to do. I have given this quite a bit of thought over the years. Some would say I am too stubborn to engage in this activity. They might also say that I see it as a weakness. Perhaps they are right on both counts. This is an activity that I will push down inside myself even when engaging in it would bring such blessed release. That one thing is crying.
Tears flow for many reasons. They fall quietly when I witness something very sweet. Maybe a couple exchanging vows, or a parent and child enjoying a moment together. They trail down my face when I am awed by the wonder and beauty of life itself. These are my moments. They are my special times. These tears are joyful, grateful tears. They represent the fabric of life. The blues that are calm, the reds that are spicy, the greens that are peaceful, the yellows that are joyous. They leave my eyes and heart and travel down my cheeks when I experience a special moment with a friend. Those tears tell another that I am right there with them. Where I truly want to be.
Then there are times when they flow because of saddness. A loved niece fights the battle with cancer. Cancer wins. Grandparents and parents leave this earth. Friends move. I move. Jobs are lost. People argue. Hurt surrounds. Hearts are broken. Relationships fail. This list is long. Whatever touches our lives and causes pain has the power to bring tears along for the ride. These tears can be healing. They can bring that release I spoke about earlier. They can help us clear our heads, hearts and minds. They are truly our friends. Sometimes after an especially long cry, we feel at peace. This peace maybe short-lived, but at least we can breathe for a moment and see that there is a way out. or around.
Ok. Maybe I don't hate to cry. The older I get--and those numbers are adding up to a big one--the more I realize that sharing life means laughing when things are funny and silly and crying when hurts surround. It is such a blessing to have a few people who don't mind the tears. In fact, they just might cry along with me. These are the really special ones. Let's be honest. Crying ruins eye make-up. Not to mention the reddness that surrounds the eyes and nose. There is not much pretty about sobbing. Or maybe there is. Maybe red eyes and noses and sniffles mark us as human. Maybe tears separate us from other life forms. Maybe because we have the ability to care, we will always have a tub of tears just under the surface waiting to be released.
This is from a book I read. Sometimes tears are the best words a heart can speak.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
The Journey
The Journey--
She could tell she was at the end of her journey because the bright, white light that had been her guide was slowly fading. It had been so warm and inviting inside that light. She tried to remember when she had felt so loved and protected.
A round, white table slowly came into her view. There were six chairs around it waiting for occupants. She wondered what to do. Should she make a decision about which chair to claim? Should she wait for someone to direct her to the correct one? Should she continue walking around the table into the unknown?
As she was about to continue her walk, five lovely spirits appeared. Each took a place at the table. One chair was left. Evidently it was for her. So, with no questions or comments, she joined the others around the table.
Silence. Before when she was part of silence, she felt uncomfortable. This was completely different. She felt an anticipation. Something special was about to happen. It was going to be worth the wait. She relaxed into the joy of the moment.
Eventually one of the spirits seated around the table began to speak. This spirit began his story by saying he had lived such a wonderful life. His parents were doting. They loved him beyond measure. He had siblings to share life with. He had his own room and enjoyed many activities with his family. He went on to tell about his school experiences and finally his adult life. As he spoke, everyone listened intently. His earth life seemed perfect. He then shared that his life ended with a disease that had no cure. He said he was a little surprised that his life ended in that manner, but he was okay with it.
After he finished his story, silence once again filled the air. There was no hurry here. Everything happened when it was time. It wasn't long, however, until another spirit began to share. Her life had not been so sweet. She was given away at birth. While many who are given away find themselves in lovely homes with loving parents, she did not. She shared that she was moved from family to family never finding a true home. The one thing she wished for was a sister. She had found a friend later in life who fulfilled that role. She shared that her life had been difficult, but even amid the difficult circumstances, she had learned to survive. In fact, she thrived. She worked for a company that truly cared for its employees. She had advanced quickly. She shared that she met a man, fell in love, married, had a couple of kids. She was able to provide a loving home for her family, and each of her children graduated from college. Her husband had been loving and kind. Her life ended quietly in her bed surrounded by her family. She was so pleased with it all.
The new arrival listened carefully knowing her time was coming. One shared that an accident took his life. He had not expected that. It was all so sudden. Each one took their time telling the story of their earth life. Each shared the joys and sorrows they had experienced. No one was sad. Everyone was joyful as they remembered life.
Of course this is from my imagination. When these thoughts appeared in my mind a few days ago, I was quite surprised. Where did they come from? Why were they floating around in my mind? Did I see something on tv that sparked a thought? Or did something I read in a book move me to this new place? Whatever the reason, I am grateful for them. How comforting to think that moving from this reality into the next is serene. And how wonderful if we really do have the opportunity to listen to others tell their stories. Often while we are here, we are so busy we have little time to sit and talk about anything deep. We try to keep our conversations light and fluffy. But, honestly, we live in the deep end of the pool much of our lives. We should not be afraid to be real, should we?
I was conforted by the thoughts that appeared. They spoke of joy, love and care. They spoke of no judgement. No criticism. Simply love for all around the table.
My guess is--even though this was not part of the imagining--that after the stories were shared, all the spirits moved to another level of existence leaving the table vacant for the next arrivals. The beautiful part of this is no one was ever alone. All were included.
Should I post this? I have no clue whether I should or not. Yet, somewhere deep inside of me I feel I should. And now I have.
She could tell she was at the end of her journey because the bright, white light that had been her guide was slowly fading. It had been so warm and inviting inside that light. She tried to remember when she had felt so loved and protected.
A round, white table slowly came into her view. There were six chairs around it waiting for occupants. She wondered what to do. Should she make a decision about which chair to claim? Should she wait for someone to direct her to the correct one? Should she continue walking around the table into the unknown?
As she was about to continue her walk, five lovely spirits appeared. Each took a place at the table. One chair was left. Evidently it was for her. So, with no questions or comments, she joined the others around the table.
Silence. Before when she was part of silence, she felt uncomfortable. This was completely different. She felt an anticipation. Something special was about to happen. It was going to be worth the wait. She relaxed into the joy of the moment.
Eventually one of the spirits seated around the table began to speak. This spirit began his story by saying he had lived such a wonderful life. His parents were doting. They loved him beyond measure. He had siblings to share life with. He had his own room and enjoyed many activities with his family. He went on to tell about his school experiences and finally his adult life. As he spoke, everyone listened intently. His earth life seemed perfect. He then shared that his life ended with a disease that had no cure. He said he was a little surprised that his life ended in that manner, but he was okay with it.
After he finished his story, silence once again filled the air. There was no hurry here. Everything happened when it was time. It wasn't long, however, until another spirit began to share. Her life had not been so sweet. She was given away at birth. While many who are given away find themselves in lovely homes with loving parents, she did not. She shared that she was moved from family to family never finding a true home. The one thing she wished for was a sister. She had found a friend later in life who fulfilled that role. She shared that her life had been difficult, but even amid the difficult circumstances, she had learned to survive. In fact, she thrived. She worked for a company that truly cared for its employees. She had advanced quickly. She shared that she met a man, fell in love, married, had a couple of kids. She was able to provide a loving home for her family, and each of her children graduated from college. Her husband had been loving and kind. Her life ended quietly in her bed surrounded by her family. She was so pleased with it all.
The new arrival listened carefully knowing her time was coming. One shared that an accident took his life. He had not expected that. It was all so sudden. Each one took their time telling the story of their earth life. Each shared the joys and sorrows they had experienced. No one was sad. Everyone was joyful as they remembered life.
Of course this is from my imagination. When these thoughts appeared in my mind a few days ago, I was quite surprised. Where did they come from? Why were they floating around in my mind? Did I see something on tv that sparked a thought? Or did something I read in a book move me to this new place? Whatever the reason, I am grateful for them. How comforting to think that moving from this reality into the next is serene. And how wonderful if we really do have the opportunity to listen to others tell their stories. Often while we are here, we are so busy we have little time to sit and talk about anything deep. We try to keep our conversations light and fluffy. But, honestly, we live in the deep end of the pool much of our lives. We should not be afraid to be real, should we?
I was conforted by the thoughts that appeared. They spoke of joy, love and care. They spoke of no judgement. No criticism. Simply love for all around the table.
My guess is--even though this was not part of the imagining--that after the stories were shared, all the spirits moved to another level of existence leaving the table vacant for the next arrivals. The beautiful part of this is no one was ever alone. All were included.
Should I post this? I have no clue whether I should or not. Yet, somewhere deep inside of me I feel I should. And now I have.
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