Category Archives: enjoying life

It’s not just about the big picture

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As I am uncharacteristically sitting in my office on a Sunday morning, dog asleep at my feet, it occurred to me that I don’t have very much to say today.  I am enjoying the quiet moments of looking after the lodge while the owners enjoy some much-needed down time after a busy season and the other employees are busy shopping for the holidays and on their way to spend time with loved ones.

I saw this quote and it seemed to sum up what I was trying to say.  Enjoy your Sunday and make sure to enjoy all the little things.

the little things

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I remember you!

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A little over a year ago my mom did something that I thought was impossible.  What was most impressive about it was that she did it from beyond the grave.

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I wrote this post marveling at how things seem to happen in random ways.  After searching for a friend for an extended period of time, I had all but given up.  It seems like just last month his email showed up in my inbox at work and it made me believe that my mother had pulled some major strings in Heaven to make that happen.

Remarkably, the calendar has moved forward by a year.  We have been in constant contact since then and have developed a wonderful friendship.  I hadn’t realized by rekindling our relationship twenty-five years later we would become such close friends.

In August he had asked me to write a blog post – I can’t remember if he said for him or about him – and this post is what came out.

It’s been a pleasure getting to know him all over again and I thank my mom for all the fairy dust she must have bartered for to be able to make our reunion happen.

 

 

Table for one

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coffee storm

The single coffee cup made me sense my solitude even more.  Everything around me faded into the background, much like I knew I had been doing.  The cloud over my morning solace taunted me, trying to will me to tears.  But I simply sat on that stool and waited for the rainbow.

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Comes a time

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Everything in our lives has a time and a place.  Whether we understand the correlation or not, the introduction of certain things into our realities is done with a purpose.  The novel ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ is one of those things that had a time and place in my life – and that time and place was now.

Had I read this book when it was first published, the messages would have never hit their target.  But now, almost twenty years after its publication date, this book has burrowed its way under my skin and caused numerous moments of reflection and awareness.

I began reading this book late on a Saturday night, although I wish I could say I dove into it on a Tuesday.  My appetite for the story made me pick it up again on Sunday afternoon and finish it early Sunday night.  I recognized many moments of my life through the book and I paused many times to wipe tears from my eyes so I could continue reading.

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(Mitch Albom and Morrie Schwartz)

I watched both of my parents wither from a disease, although not ALS, that stole their ability to function as healthy adults.  I felt a strong connection to Mitch as he tried to make life as normal for Morrie as he could.  But what I was most affected by from this novel is Morrie teaching Mitch how to live while he, in turn, was dying.

Life is not about our limitations, it is about our strengths.   Life is not about our possessions but about our character.  It is about being a part of a community and giving to those who are less fortunate.  Life is about having no regrets when we pass because the energy that we shared with others lives on through them.

Mitch and Morrie reiterated the philosophy behind a mantra I have, for many years, uttered under my breath.  “Life is not about what you have.  Life is about what you give.”   And since this novel has securely fastened itself into my memory, I will strive to give more so I can live far beyond this lifetime.

Raising my hand

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Today will be a bittersweet day for me.  I have $1,000.00 Canadian dollars to go on a shopping spree for the rest of the toys that will be given to the children in our area who may not otherwise have had a present to open on Christmas morning.  This is the third year I have been at the helm of our toy drive and it has grown significantly each year.

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I am sad to say I have not volunteered as much as I should have over the years.  Back in the stone ages when I was in high school, we were not required to have volunteer hours as part of the curriculum.  We studied, we tried not to fall asleep in class and, if all went well, we graduated and moved on to college or university.

But this toy drive has sparked something in me.  It has kindled a need to use my able body and mind to spend some of my free hours helping others.  I have just filled out my application and submitted it to a local cause to see if I will be approved to become a part of their volunteer team.

With luck, I hope to have a positive response.  And when they ask who is able to come and help, I will raise my hand and be one of the people at the front of the line.

Jeans and bare feet

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bare feet

Wooden walls around a big kitchen,

a man in jeans and bare feet,

dinner is cooking and the wine is poured.

This is where I want to exist.

The room is my refuge,

the food is my sustenance,

but he is my home.

His fingers slowly graze my arm

and he reaches for my hand.

We sip our wine,

the conversation dwells on nothing

but never seems to stop.

The world outside of this moment

may continue to exist,

but my world is here,

in this moment,

with a man in jeans

and bare feet.

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It was too late to even ask

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He asked for my forgiveness

and in my continuing silence

I found an abundance of long-buried strength.

~

Daunted by the conviction of my strength,

and with no more interest in asking for my forgiveness,

he returned my stare with his silence.

~

 There was nothing golden about our silence.

But in that quiet, there was no weakness in my strength.

And because of that, never will he receive my forgiveness.

~

 Forgiveness should never be assumed.  His feeble request was met by deserved silence and fueled by my inner strength.

 

moonshine

My first ever attempt at a Tritina for YeahWrite.Me

I almost slipped away

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cropped-Hands-touching

The pull was strong.

Celestial light enveloped me,

suspending me.

But I couldn’t leave.

As much as we promised,

and wanted to be together forever,

our unborn child deserved life.

I inhaled,

my hand slipped from yours

and the light was gone.

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Being a human pinball isn’t so bad

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The Christmas Spirit has ruthlessly stalked me, once again, and dug its talons into my inner-elf.  Yesterday I spent the better part of the afternoon spending money that has been generously donated to our 3rd Annual Toy Drive at Shamrock Lodge and strategically placing those purchases around our tree in the front office.

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I have never been a big fan of Christmas shopping but the last three years of managing this toy drive have given me a reason to slightly alter my thinking.  My dad was a big fan of fighting holiday crowds to shop at the largest malls in Toronto.  My traumatic experience with that is described in this post.  But I now understand a bit of the glee he felt.

I became immersed in the spirit of giving and the outside noise of the store slowly fell into silence.  I was in a holiday bubble and the more I shopped the happier I felt.  Feeling like a pinball in an super-sized Christmas pinball game was a minuscule annoyance compared to the immense reward.  A few hours of doing something I am not fond of to make a child smile at Christmas was well worth the discomfort.