It is Christmas Eve morning, and as I putter about my house, I am thinking about many previous Christmases. Christmas is not my favourite holiday. I like Halloween better than Christmas, even though Halloween is but one day, and Christmas is now a month long jumble of shopping, of parties, of decorating, of preparation. Maybe that's why it is not my favourite. It seems overdone. I spent many years searching for the perfect Christmas and never found it. Along the way, I created some traditions for myself and some traditions to share with The Kid and I love those. Each year there are news stories and editorials and conversations about how the true meaning of Christmas is lost and of late, concerns about this season being recognized as Christmas without recognition of all the other religious holidays this time of year. I'm tired of hearing about both. Each one of us has the opportunity to make Christmas (or any other holiday or any other day, for that matter) exactly what we want. Choose to buy into what you want. Believe or not. Celebrate or not. Say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. It's up to you. You decide.
It's not that I dislike Christmas; I DO like it and parts of it I love. I just no longer search for The Perfect Christmas, setting myself up for unfulfilled expectation of what it is supposed to be, exhausting myself and getting crabby by trying to do things I don't want to do and working at creating The Perfect Christmas. In ruminating through my memories this morning, I remembered some bits and pieces of my childhood Christmases. The more I relaxed and just thought, the more I remembered. That was good for me, because I thought I didn't have many childhood Christmas memories.
Three Christmas memories:
- The year I turned seven, Sister Three ordered my present from either the Sears or Eaton's catalogue. I was pestering her to see what she was ordering and of course, she wouldn't tell me. She carefully put the order form in her purse and set her purse high up on the top of the fridge, where I couldn't reach it. When she left the room, I dragged a chair over and looked. She ordered a little jewelry box that played music and had a teeny ballerina spinning endlessly! I was so excited - my excitement was more about thwarting her attempt to keep this secret from me than about the music box. I'd outsmarted her for sure! I didn't even have the chair moved back to the table when I was filled with an incredible sadness. This was no longer a surprise. I've never since wanted to know what a gift was before opening it.
- The year I turned six, Barbie dolls were THE item to have. And I didn't; there was no Barbie in my life. I wanted a Barbie so badly I ached. My teacher had arranged a gift exchange for our class and we all pulled a name out of a box and brought in small little gifts for one other class member. The teacher had "pulled" the name of a girl whose family may have been the poorest in class. This girl got a Barbie from the teacher! I was so angry; I could tell the name-pulling was rigged and a Barbie doll was far over the fifty cent limit to be spent. My family was likely the second poorest family in town and I had no Barbie doll, but this other girl got one. It was so unfair. On Christmas morning, Sister One was encouraging me to open one particular box first, but that was not the one I wanted to open. There was another gift of a more mysterious shape that I had my eye on. I very clearly remember having a tantrum and throwing the first box, and ripping the pretty paper off the second. Barbie doll clothes! How cruel for my sister to give me Barbie clothes when I didn't have a Barbie. What a mean trick to play on a little girl, who ached for a Barbie for months. The tantrum continued and finally, the first ignored box was opened. There in perfectness, was a Barbie, with short reddish hair, smiling at me. I was so ashamed and filled with guilt for not listening and having a full-blown tantrum that was more suited to a two year old. It took me many more years to truly learn to not be envious of what other people have, to look at who is less fortunate than myself, to be grateful for what I have, and to know the other box may hold my heart's desire, but the beginning of those lessons started with Barbie dolls the year I was six.
- The year I was eight, Brother One came home for Christmas with his new wife. They had gifts for us four younger siblings. They brought in bags and bags of food, including the seldom seen chips and pop. It was wondrous. My gift from Brother One and his wife that year was a Timex watch. I still have it, tucked away in my top dresser drawer. It was my first "adult" gift and the first Christmas I no longer believed in Santa Claus and the first Christmas I understood fully that my Mom could not give her children the things she so wanted to give. There were some very lean times, but we were never really hungry, and older siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins and strangers always made sure we had a gift or maybe two or three to open, and good food on the table. The sharing continued throughout the year; it was a true statement of charity beginning at home. They all helped take care of us, showering us with love, and supporting my Mom in ways physical and emotional she couldn't begin to repay. My Mom was a remarkable woman who lived her life watching her dreams shatter. In spite of that, all her children today know and understand she loved us more than life itself and sacrificed herself and her being in ways we still can't comprehend.
I haven't always had Merry Christmases, with some being shadowed by the alcoholism that is prevalent in my family, and with great stress both as a child and an adult of not having enough money to make The Perfect Christmas, and with struggling to "do it all" to turn Christmas into the carol or card I thought Christmas should be, and with the life-changing Christmas day in 1992 when my Mom died. My enjoyment of Christmas now is centered on time with family and sharing myself. I choose to believe and to make each December 25 the Perfect Christmas, for me.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Feeding My Soul, Part 247
I target the last Saturday before Christmas as the day to put up the tree and decorations. With The Kid half a world away I did this alone yesterday. I am not putting the tree up this year. I am the foster parent of The Cat - The Cat has been here other Christmases and LOVES decorated trees. I have no energy for the on-going arguments with The Cat, knowing ultimately she would win most of them. It was very strange to do this by myself and to not be putting up the tree. I went through some loneliness and crabbiness and wondered why I should bother. It felt like a chore and for awhile I talked myself into believing I was only doing it for the guests I'll have here on Christmas Eve. I hadn't been pulling things out of boxes for too long though, when I knew I was doing it for myself. And I was doing it for The Kid. I needed here her in spirit. I was rummaging about the boxes of too many Christmas things, deciding what would come out this year, and what would stay hidden away, and my Grinchness began to lift. I had fun and enjoyed the thoughts of other Christmases and spent time reminiscing with myself. Later in the day, I realized that this was yet another reminder for me to make the choice to enjoy what I'm doing and love the little things that can bring me joy. It takes work and conscious decisions to do that. It's always worth it. I sometimes forget that and let myself slip back to taking things for granted and using jade coloured glasses to view my world.
Three things that have recently fed my soul, things I didn't realize were feeding my soul until I stopped and let myself appreciate them:
- I bought a new grater. It is small and very sharp with a cover that clips over the grate and has a padded handle. I liked it in the store and I bought it for more money than I would usually spending on something like a grater. Grating is easier than with my old square metal box that I've had for years, that is the same style (but not the quality) that my Mom had for years. A new grater has made a little tiny slice of my life easier (pun intended) and it feeds my soul to remind myself that I can buy new things just for me, no matter what the reason.
- I went to a meditation class, Tai Chi, two Christmas parties, and out for five meals in the past couple weeks. They were obligations I didn't know how to get out of and events that were tiring me out. It was too much being in public and crowds and social interaction. At the times I'd decided to do these things, I truly wanted to do them. By the time came to go, I wanted to stay home, stay warm, sleep, and just be. I could have done that, but forced myself to attend each of these. Each was soul-feeding in their own way at the time, but I didn't recognize that my soul was being fed not just by the external interactions but by pushing myself out of my winter doldrums.
- A co-worker had a business trip two weeks ago, to provide training for one of our external clients. The first day she was back at work, she was happy and excited that she had gone, that the training had been successful, that she was helping people learn and understand. It fed my soul to see her talk about how she loves to teach and it fed my soul for her to say "It fed my soul". She gets it, and she gets me, to know using that term would mean I understood completely her emotion.
Christmas will be different for me this year with The Kid gone and my house will be different with no tree. I know I will love the time off work, and the meals, laughs, and love shared with family. I know I will also remember the wee things will feed my soul. I will forget that again I'm sure, like forgetting exactly which decorations are carefully and lovingly packed away each year. I need to remember to find those soul-feeding moments. They are always there. Old ones to reflect upon, taking them out of the storage spaces in my brain and dusting them to carefully place them in my heart; and new ones that may not seem to be much more than a new grater that catches my eye but turns into a moment that makes my life easier.
Three things that have recently fed my soul, things I didn't realize were feeding my soul until I stopped and let myself appreciate them:
- I bought a new grater. It is small and very sharp with a cover that clips over the grate and has a padded handle. I liked it in the store and I bought it for more money than I would usually spending on something like a grater. Grating is easier than with my old square metal box that I've had for years, that is the same style (but not the quality) that my Mom had for years. A new grater has made a little tiny slice of my life easier (pun intended) and it feeds my soul to remind myself that I can buy new things just for me, no matter what the reason.
- I went to a meditation class, Tai Chi, two Christmas parties, and out for five meals in the past couple weeks. They were obligations I didn't know how to get out of and events that were tiring me out. It was too much being in public and crowds and social interaction. At the times I'd decided to do these things, I truly wanted to do them. By the time came to go, I wanted to stay home, stay warm, sleep, and just be. I could have done that, but forced myself to attend each of these. Each was soul-feeding in their own way at the time, but I didn't recognize that my soul was being fed not just by the external interactions but by pushing myself out of my winter doldrums.
- A co-worker had a business trip two weeks ago, to provide training for one of our external clients. The first day she was back at work, she was happy and excited that she had gone, that the training had been successful, that she was helping people learn and understand. It fed my soul to see her talk about how she loves to teach and it fed my soul for her to say "It fed my soul". She gets it, and she gets me, to know using that term would mean I understood completely her emotion.
Christmas will be different for me this year with The Kid gone and my house will be different with no tree. I know I will love the time off work, and the meals, laughs, and love shared with family. I know I will also remember the wee things will feed my soul. I will forget that again I'm sure, like forgetting exactly which decorations are carefully and lovingly packed away each year. I need to remember to find those soul-feeding moments. They are always there. Old ones to reflect upon, taking them out of the storage spaces in my brain and dusting them to carefully place them in my heart; and new ones that may not seem to be much more than a new grater that catches my eye but turns into a moment that makes my life easier.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Who Am I?
When I was first diagnosed with cancer, my good friend (who is also a cancer survivor) said "This will change you". That statement scared me. Change is part of the unknown, and cancer was part of the unknown. Whether I'd survive was part of the unknown. I didn't want any more unknowns, especially if it had to do with who I was. Her comment stayed kind of hidden in the back of my brain, but it would creep out and poke me from time to time. I'm four years past my treatment and cancer-free for three years. Only now am I beginning to understand what she meant. I can not explain this to you, any more than she could explain it to me. I know I laugh more often, cry more often, feel more deeply, love more fiercely. This change is so much deeper than that. I am becoming who I am meant to be. I know my spirit is in tune with something far beyond explanation.
Three things I ponder about, as I try to explain to myself how I've changed:
- Feeding my soul. I speak and write of this often. I have never been a religious person, but have thought of myself as spiritual. There were times when I held beliefs that some would define as atheist. My awareness continues to grow.
- The things that bring me the greatest joy. These are the core of what feeds my soul. These are leading me to different ways of thinking, of planning, of being. Somehow the pondering of this is opening a door to what I am meant to do, partly as a way to support myself, but more importantly as a definition of using my true gifts.
- Connections to the people in my life. I am more forgiving and less judgmental. I have strengthened relationships with those close to me and renewed relationships to those whom I let slip from my life. I am also more aware of those who can cause me harm. I've always been a 'helper' of some sort. My energy is more focused on how I help, who I help, why I help. I have nothing if I don't have people. This is the great connection to soul-feeding.
I don't have it all figured out. Each day a little more of the puzzle is revealed to me. I am changed.
Three things I ponder about, as I try to explain to myself how I've changed:
- Feeding my soul. I speak and write of this often. I have never been a religious person, but have thought of myself as spiritual. There were times when I held beliefs that some would define as atheist. My awareness continues to grow.
- The things that bring me the greatest joy. These are the core of what feeds my soul. These are leading me to different ways of thinking, of planning, of being. Somehow the pondering of this is opening a door to what I am meant to do, partly as a way to support myself, but more importantly as a definition of using my true gifts.
- Connections to the people in my life. I am more forgiving and less judgmental. I have strengthened relationships with those close to me and renewed relationships to those whom I let slip from my life. I am also more aware of those who can cause me harm. I've always been a 'helper' of some sort. My energy is more focused on how I help, who I help, why I help. I have nothing if I don't have people. This is the great connection to soul-feeding.
I don't have it all figured out. Each day a little more of the puzzle is revealed to me. I am changed.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Stretching
I like watching The Cat stretch after a long cat nap and I love the feeling of a big s-t-r-e-t-c-h after sitting at my desk, on the couch, or being cooped up in a car. Few things feel as good as a deep breath and re-awakening my body as I extend my arms, legs, diaphram and shake off the sluggishness.
With all the areas in my life that I try to balance, I have to take time to stretch in other ways than just the physical. It's hard to remember to do this and it's hard to find the energy, at times. Like the physical stretch, these other stretches help create the energy to go a little farther, try a little harder, experience more. Physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, social: each of these areas requires care. When I focus on one area and not the rest, the neglected areas get sluggish.
Stretches, whether large or small, are needed to remind myself that life is multi-faceted. Too much energy spent in one area cramps the rest, puts part of me to sleep, like a dangling leg that was tucked up underneath me for too long. It's tough to do and then the whole time issue I struggle with smacks me and then the whole balance question takes me to darker parts of myself. And on it goes. When I get to this stage, I REALLY need to stretch. And relax, and continue on, with self in balance for a time.
Three stretches I've done recently:
- I joined an Improv class. I needed to add more fun to my life. Fun it is! Two hours of laughter and creativity (mine and others) shuts off the daily 'shoulds' and responsibiliites. It has also stretched my spontaneous self, my physical self, my awareness of others, my listening skills, and my joy.
- I asked for help at work. This was a big deal for me; I'm doing work I haven't done before, and it is very important to me to be able to portray an aura of confidence with this new work. Letting others know I am willing to learn from others and need direction and guidance opened another new door. The process of doing this improved my credibilty, and stretched not just my comfort zone, but the contraction and relaxation after the stretch changed my perception of needing to be perfect. It was both humbling and freeing.
- I bid on an incomplete set of old dishes at a silent auction. This silent auction was at a non-profit second hand store. I thought the dishes were pretty and they reminded me of my Mom and my childhood. I am working at getting rid of stuff in my house and certainly don't need to accumlate more. I wrote down the bid on a whim, based on the emotions I felt looking at these dishes. My bid was successful and I won the dishes. Now I have more stuff in my house and I have dishes I don't need. I am so happy to have them, though. This spur of the moment desire for the dishes stretched my awareness that I can fill my life with what I want. This expands to much more than surrounding myself with things - I can surround myself with people, experiences, and thoughts, that bring me joy and peace. I will put the dishes in my cupboard as the every day dishes for myself. I can treat myself every day by eating from a plate I love.
Today is Sunday, which has over time turned into my chore day. One of my chores today will be finding a stretch for myself. I don't know yet what that might be - it could even be the stretch of tackling the dreaded "sort all the papers" chore, but I will stretch something, somehow, somewhere today.
With all the areas in my life that I try to balance, I have to take time to stretch in other ways than just the physical. It's hard to remember to do this and it's hard to find the energy, at times. Like the physical stretch, these other stretches help create the energy to go a little farther, try a little harder, experience more. Physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, social: each of these areas requires care. When I focus on one area and not the rest, the neglected areas get sluggish.
Stretches, whether large or small, are needed to remind myself that life is multi-faceted. Too much energy spent in one area cramps the rest, puts part of me to sleep, like a dangling leg that was tucked up underneath me for too long. It's tough to do and then the whole time issue I struggle with smacks me and then the whole balance question takes me to darker parts of myself. And on it goes. When I get to this stage, I REALLY need to stretch. And relax, and continue on, with self in balance for a time.
Three stretches I've done recently:
- I joined an Improv class. I needed to add more fun to my life. Fun it is! Two hours of laughter and creativity (mine and others) shuts off the daily 'shoulds' and responsibiliites. It has also stretched my spontaneous self, my physical self, my awareness of others, my listening skills, and my joy.
- I asked for help at work. This was a big deal for me; I'm doing work I haven't done before, and it is very important to me to be able to portray an aura of confidence with this new work. Letting others know I am willing to learn from others and need direction and guidance opened another new door. The process of doing this improved my credibilty, and stretched not just my comfort zone, but the contraction and relaxation after the stretch changed my perception of needing to be perfect. It was both humbling and freeing.
- I bid on an incomplete set of old dishes at a silent auction. This silent auction was at a non-profit second hand store. I thought the dishes were pretty and they reminded me of my Mom and my childhood. I am working at getting rid of stuff in my house and certainly don't need to accumlate more. I wrote down the bid on a whim, based on the emotions I felt looking at these dishes. My bid was successful and I won the dishes. Now I have more stuff in my house and I have dishes I don't need. I am so happy to have them, though. This spur of the moment desire for the dishes stretched my awareness that I can fill my life with what I want. This expands to much more than surrounding myself with things - I can surround myself with people, experiences, and thoughts, that bring me joy and peace. I will put the dishes in my cupboard as the every day dishes for myself. I can treat myself every day by eating from a plate I love.
Today is Sunday, which has over time turned into my chore day. One of my chores today will be finding a stretch for myself. I don't know yet what that might be - it could even be the stretch of tackling the dreaded "sort all the papers" chore, but I will stretch something, somehow, somewhere today.
Friday, October 14, 2011
This is Jeopardy!
And now entering the studio are today's contestants... I've been a Jeopardy watcher for many years. (I know they have changed the opening of the show, but I still like the previous beginning, where the contestants did enter the studio, and not stand pre-arranged behind their podiums.) On each episode, Alex Trebek spends a few minutes talking to each contestant about something in their life. I admire Alex, after all these years, being able to show interest in these stories. When some little quirky thing has happened to The Kid, I've reminded her that she now has a story to share with Alex on Jeopardy.
Three stories I could share with Alex:
-There is a family legend that my grandfather may have slept in the same room as Jesse James, that this has not been proven, but that there is a book that references a J. Edmondson (my great-grandfather's name) riding with the James Gang. Alex would say "Have fun with your research".
-I hugged my boss at a community gathering. I'd had recent surgery and was still under the influence of pain killers. Our family tied our reunion into the town's centennial. When my boss saw me he asked how I was doing. I'd seen so many relatives that day my brain didn't connect with who he was and I hugged him. I hugged many people that day and he was one more face I recognized but didn't quite place. Half way through the hug I had a jolt of recognition. This was not some long lost cousin, but my boss. Alex would say "Did it get you a raise?".
-I have some hearing loss and have the closed-captioning option turned on on my TV. I don't need to read every word, but use it to catch words I miss. I see many closed-captioning mistakes, and I believe some are deliberate. If I were the closed-captioner, I would make some deliberate mistakes just to mess with people a little bit. The best I've seen is a reporter who said "The Bank of Nova Scotia" but the closed captioning said "The Bank of Alex Trebek". Alex would say "I'd like to have my own bank".
If I won a few days in a row, I could talk about the button collection I 'inherited', the 'dicks in a row' typo I made, hearing words incorrectly and what sounds to others like out-in-left-field replies. Alex likes the funny stories best, it seems.
I can't imagine that I will ever be a Jeopardy contestant, but who knows what the future will bring? I try to view the events, small and large, in my life as stories to share with Alex in a forty-five second time frame. It helps me keep perspective on the the mundane, the horrors, the joys, the accomplishments. Everything I do and experience is worth something to me and everything can be looked at with an eye on the ridiculous or funny. Give some thought to the stories you'd share with Alex. Holding his index card, Alex says "It says here..." And you reply "Yes Alex, I was..." Alex says "Good for you". All our stories are worth telling.
Three stories I could share with Alex:
-There is a family legend that my grandfather may have slept in the same room as Jesse James, that this has not been proven, but that there is a book that references a J. Edmondson (my great-grandfather's name) riding with the James Gang. Alex would say "Have fun with your research".
-I hugged my boss at a community gathering. I'd had recent surgery and was still under the influence of pain killers. Our family tied our reunion into the town's centennial. When my boss saw me he asked how I was doing. I'd seen so many relatives that day my brain didn't connect with who he was and I hugged him. I hugged many people that day and he was one more face I recognized but didn't quite place. Half way through the hug I had a jolt of recognition. This was not some long lost cousin, but my boss. Alex would say "Did it get you a raise?".
-I have some hearing loss and have the closed-captioning option turned on on my TV. I don't need to read every word, but use it to catch words I miss. I see many closed-captioning mistakes, and I believe some are deliberate. If I were the closed-captioner, I would make some deliberate mistakes just to mess with people a little bit. The best I've seen is a reporter who said "The Bank of Nova Scotia" but the closed captioning said "The Bank of Alex Trebek". Alex would say "I'd like to have my own bank".
If I won a few days in a row, I could talk about the button collection I 'inherited', the 'dicks in a row' typo I made, hearing words incorrectly and what sounds to others like out-in-left-field replies. Alex likes the funny stories best, it seems.
I can't imagine that I will ever be a Jeopardy contestant, but who knows what the future will bring? I try to view the events, small and large, in my life as stories to share with Alex in a forty-five second time frame. It helps me keep perspective on the the mundane, the horrors, the joys, the accomplishments. Everything I do and experience is worth something to me and everything can be looked at with an eye on the ridiculous or funny. Give some thought to the stories you'd share with Alex. Holding his index card, Alex says "It says here..." And you reply "Yes Alex, I was..." Alex says "Good for you". All our stories are worth telling.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Stuff and Such
I've had stuff on my mind this weekend. Actual stuff. My plan this weekend was to get things back to some kind of order in my home. It's been in disarray since The Kid left. We stored her stuff in my largest closet. My stuff from that closet had to come out. I spent time this weekend moving piles of stuff from one spot to another. I still have too much stuff for my space. Clothes, dishes, books, scrapbooking supplies, and the ever-present-how-do-I-get-rid-of-it button collection.
Three things about stuff:
- No matter how much you accumulate, once you decide to purge, you get more stuff. Sometimes stuff just comes, showing up from nowhere, to take up space.
- Everyone has different stuff and each person's stuff has different emotional and monetary value.
- Some stuff is worth keeping. Today I helped a friend look through some of her Mom's stuff. And there, in a box of papers, was a birthday card my Mom had given her Mom. I now have a card that connected my two Moms - it would have been rather unusual circumstances for my Mom to give my surrogate Mom a card. I have a treasure now.
I think of my stuff and get frustrated. Yet there is little I truly want to get rid of - I just want somewhere to put it. I think of The Kid's stuff, the most important possessions of hers, living in my closet, waiting for her to come home. I think of Sister Two's stuff, destroyed by fire. I think of the family treaures some are lucky enough to have, which to others is just stuff, and feel some envy; we have few. I think of spotless, everything in its place houses, and wish I could have that fortitude, to not gather stuff. I think of people who have no stuff. I can and will purge soon, with trepidation that I might be getting rid of good stuff. I just need to engage someone whose stuff includes a pick up truck.
Three things about stuff:
- No matter how much you accumulate, once you decide to purge, you get more stuff. Sometimes stuff just comes, showing up from nowhere, to take up space.
- Everyone has different stuff and each person's stuff has different emotional and monetary value.
- Some stuff is worth keeping. Today I helped a friend look through some of her Mom's stuff. And there, in a box of papers, was a birthday card my Mom had given her Mom. I now have a card that connected my two Moms - it would have been rather unusual circumstances for my Mom to give my surrogate Mom a card. I have a treasure now.
I think of my stuff and get frustrated. Yet there is little I truly want to get rid of - I just want somewhere to put it. I think of The Kid's stuff, the most important possessions of hers, living in my closet, waiting for her to come home. I think of Sister Two's stuff, destroyed by fire. I think of the family treaures some are lucky enough to have, which to others is just stuff, and feel some envy; we have few. I think of spotless, everything in its place houses, and wish I could have that fortitude, to not gather stuff. I think of people who have no stuff. I can and will purge soon, with trepidation that I might be getting rid of good stuff. I just need to engage someone whose stuff includes a pick up truck.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Miracles
Terminal brain cancer. Heart attack. Stroke. Addiction. Bi-polar disorder. These are some of the things affecting my people. Sister Three reminds me that as we get older, we will hear of more often of these life-changing and sometimes life-ending events. I see despair and strength, denial and acceptance to varying degrees with my people. It can be so easy to let myself be pulled by circumstance and emotion into seeing all of this as negative, and to let my inherent compassion become over-reaction. I need to temper that with the miracles I see. I have to search, at times, to find the miracles, and when I find them, to remember them.
Three miracles I've seen:
- Cousin Thirty-Two (or thereabouts) has made great strides in recovering from an illness that affected his vision, his hearing, his breathing, his ability to swallow, his balance. He found a way to believe when the medical community said nothing more could be done.
- Family members recovering/recovered from addictions and making huge leaps into building solid and healthy lives for themselves. (I prefer the term recovered, but the literature says recovering. It's a lifelong illness, I know, but...). Each has fought (and continue to fight) their own demons.
- An ant carry, by himself (herself? itself?), a piece of popcorn. One piece of popped corn would not be so heavy to me, but to an ant? And the awkwardness of the enormity in comparison to its' tiny size?
With each miracle there is a hidden lesson for me. The lesson from these three miracles are all centered around not giving up, persistance, hard work for great rewards. I enjoy and rejoice in the miracles I see for the sheer wonder, and later the lesson reveals itself. I am alive today, and that is a miracle. I sometimes need to remember that. Each of you reading this are a miracle in my life - you provide love, learning, support, humour, joy to my life.
Find your miracles. Search for them diligently in the times of illness, stress, death. Feel sad, angry, frustrated, hopeless when you need to, but rejoice when you see the miracles. And the lessons will come, along with new peace.
Three miracles I've seen:
- Cousin Thirty-Two (or thereabouts) has made great strides in recovering from an illness that affected his vision, his hearing, his breathing, his ability to swallow, his balance. He found a way to believe when the medical community said nothing more could be done.
- Family members recovering/recovered from addictions and making huge leaps into building solid and healthy lives for themselves. (I prefer the term recovered, but the literature says recovering. It's a lifelong illness, I know, but...). Each has fought (and continue to fight) their own demons.
- An ant carry, by himself (herself? itself?), a piece of popcorn. One piece of popped corn would not be so heavy to me, but to an ant? And the awkwardness of the enormity in comparison to its' tiny size?
With each miracle there is a hidden lesson for me. The lesson from these three miracles are all centered around not giving up, persistance, hard work for great rewards. I enjoy and rejoice in the miracles I see for the sheer wonder, and later the lesson reveals itself. I am alive today, and that is a miracle. I sometimes need to remember that. Each of you reading this are a miracle in my life - you provide love, learning, support, humour, joy to my life.
Find your miracles. Search for them diligently in the times of illness, stress, death. Feel sad, angry, frustrated, hopeless when you need to, but rejoice when you see the miracles. And the lessons will come, along with new peace.
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