Category Archives: hope

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.

In the wee small hours

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With no curtains for protection, the jagged streaks of moonlight spilled through the bedroom window across my duvet.  I had awoken only moments before, trying desperately to talk my body into falling back to sleep before my brain woke up but it was too late.  In the same time it took me to blink twice, my brain had formulated twelve simultaneous problems that it was determined to solve before I was allowed to return to slumber.  And, as an afterthought, those cranial neurons began formulating ideas for new blog posts and I was scrambling to record them before they evaporated into dream dust.

I have lost count of the number of times I have awoken from a deep sleep with a great idea for a post.  But between the darkness on moonless or cloud-covered nights and my inability to locate my phone to document them, those potentially great ideas vanished into thin air.

vault

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There must be a gigantic vault of lost ideas – a safe so large it contains all of the great writing ideas that were unable to come to fruition because they were never forced from our subconscious onto our keyboards.  It hides in the vacuous space of our imagination and traps wandering thoughts as they escape during those wee hours in the morning.  If only I knew how to break into that vault.

As my late-night Kathleen Turner voice gurgled out incomprehensible syllables I tried my best to recall and record the latest gem last night but, as I replayed the audible gibberish this morning, I couldn’t really comprehend where my thought process was taking me.

One day I’m going to crack that safe and I’m going to need a lot of Red Bull to keep me up long enough to record the wealth of ideas that is trapped in its metal casing.

 

I left a piece of me

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I wanted to leave piece of me behind,

something so unique to me,

that you would remember me

once I had gone.

I don’t want you to doubt

whether I was ever here

in the first place.

I want my imprint

etched into your brain,

so you know that I once was,

and always will be,

a part of your existence.

jeep

I left the ghost of me to remain

long after I had gone,

marking the place

that I once held in this world.

I may appear in several ways,

in the most unusual places,

but always know

that I have left a piece of me behind

for you to notice

just when you miss me the most.

~~

I saw this photo on Twitter (@ChicagoProblems) and immediately thought of how loved ones try to send us messages after they have passed.  They never drove a jeep but my mom and dad do send us indications that they are still with us in spirit.  And Mom and Dad, if you reading this, White Rabbit, White Rabbit, White Rabbit.

I just wanna know

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hands

If my hand brushed up against yours,

would your fingers curl around mine,

would you reach for my touch

as easily as I long for yours,

and let your thumb

gently caress my skin?

If I kissed you,

would our lips slightly touch

before you turned away,

or would your face lean into mine,

absorbing every ounce of the passion

I want to share with that kiss?

If I said I love you,

would you immediately build a wall

to keep me at a distance,

or would you pull me close

happy to share my emotion

because you feel it too?

If I fell into you,

would your arms catch me,

would my body be met by the warmth of your flesh,

or would I awake, once again, from my dream

wondering if you really exist.

I just wanna know.

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Be careful what you wish for

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ggp

For centuries I sat, those asinine faces staring back at me. My position, immovable.

With every ounce of my strength I wished for a different view.

The smoke finally cleared and my wish had been granted.

I realized my view would change. I hadn’t presumed I would not have moved an inch.

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Got Milk?

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For the greater part of my life I have lived in a small town.  I branched out into the bustling metropolis for a few years to attend college but the pull of our tight-knit community was too strong to ignore and I came home.  Much to the chagrin of my city dwelling friends, I have never regretted that decision.

There is something comforting about seeing the same people on a day-to-day basis.  It may feel a little too close for comfort at times when they know more about your life than you do but it has become the safety blanket of my existence.  The community that began as a collection of strangers rapidly transformed into an extended family and I take solace in the fact that I could knock on any door and receive the same warm welcome from any one of them.

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The milk of human kindness flows more freely in a small town – at least that has been my experience.  And in the summer of 2013 that lesson was inked into my skin in colors more vivid than any tattoo.   My mother had a slight episode while on her scooter as she was making her way home from her shopping excursion.  Her dog had broken free from her collar and, in the chaos that ensued, my mother had toppled from her scooter and lay on her back on the pavement.  As fate would have it I was driving through town just as the mishap occurred and I was able to pull over and help.

In the time it took for me to pull over, a handful of people were already either assisting my mother or madly looking for the frenzied dog that was dodging parked cars and moving vehicles.  It was controlled chaos but in the end my mom was fine and the dog was recovered without incident.

There is an overwhelmingly consolatory feeling knowing that if I had not been there my mother would have been just as vigilantly attended to and things would have still ended well.  Knowing that the milk of human kindness flows freely through the veins of my community makes me glad that I made the decision to carve my life into the growing trunk of the tree in this rural atmosphere.

There may be moments of my life that I will look back on with regret but choosing to live my life in this town and the community of people I share it with is not one of them.

My only wish, especially now, is that the kindness we experience here could be broadcast on a much grander level.  Whatever happens in this world, we must not let the anger and hatred of the few be able to quell the kindness that resides in the many.   Fight hate with love and keep your hearts open.  The more we hate, the more they win.

 

What the world needs now

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I am feeling very reflective today, about life and the way people treat each other and this quote seems to sum up my mood completely.

audrey

For attractive lips, speak words of kindness. For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people. For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry. For beautiful hair, let a child run his / her hands through it once a day. For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone. People, more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed, never throw out anyone. Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of each of your arms. As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands; one for helping yourself, and the other for helping others. Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind, don’t matter and those who matter, don’t mind.”

~ Audrey Hepburn

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