Mother’s Day will have come and gone by the time this posts, but the sweetness is worth recalling. I hope it’s also true for you.
I was able to start the day with a Skype session with my daughter, have an in-person lunch with my son and his crew, and end the day with dinner with a beloved cousin who rearranged her trip plans so we could share time together.
All through the day I was aware of how the smallest efforts mean so much, and maybe especially to those who recognize the gift of mothering and being mothered.
Texts and photographs and smiles and kind waitresses and the backstories of double shifts and kids at home and take your time—and knowing those three words are like an I love you to the world.
Flower images from extraordinary people who are not mine to claim, but who were moved to send them my way. The grandness.
Children’s handwriting and how a busy parent had to be patient while that was created…a precious moment.
A toast to the mothers who have gone ahead—and shared between grateful daughters at a leisurely and extraordinarily simple but beautiful reunion—To Life…
That waitress mom who happily took our picture and asked us for a funny pose, too because we all need to laugh more.
Amen, honey.
I know that’s more than seven…at some point, there is no need for numbering…just know.
Oh, here’s a bonus that really captures motherhood/busyhood to me. I wore black slacks yesterday…I thought. After lunch, I realized they were navy. Left them on anyway. The world spun on regardless. 😆
May all your clothes and shoes match this week, but if they don’t, you’re “up and at ‘em” and all is well. 💙
A sunny visit in a new coffee shop with an old friend
Words on the page…and finding old words that remind me of the value of ritual and routine and returning to oneself
Sofia’s rainy day list of things to do-those small sincere joys we can give and reciprocate
The power company’s lineman who repaired my transformer in a steady rain
His genuine and almost surprised tone You are most welcome, ma’am
Which left me considering how small it is to say thank you and how rare for some of us to hear it
Taylor Swift’s new album and the student who met me as I arrived on campus with the news of that. Words as gift. More on this I’m quite sure…but a quick one thing I admire about Swift is her bullshit detector and her refusal to be a victim. More of us doing that, please and thank you.
Seven good things in a brief lineup here…so many more. When we start noting, we are rewarded.
I hope you are rewarded in the coming week. Be good to yourself. Listen to someone new. Thank somebody.
Another birthday in the books last week, and gratitude for family and friends who honored the day with special moments. 🎂
Granddaughters who are currently enamored with the magician’s code and how one keeps pulling all manner of objects from my ear. The best part is her reaction to my reaction…is there anything more joyful than a child’s laugh? Listen for that in your comings and goings this week. Notice it as the gift it is. 🪄 🎩
Wildflower bouquets. Receiving one and knowing these moments are simply a window of time. Children grow and become busy with so much; when someone offers a wildflower bouquet, I hope you recognize the gift of that. Added bonus: a child who agrees to a picture. That sometimes is fleeting, too. 🌸
Beautiful offering
Funny stories told and shared… 🤭
Daily routines and rituals…and freedom to choose how our days will run in the background of life… 📝
Spring’s gifts of puddles and purple irises this week. 🌧️ 💜
Knowing how to prepare a meal and realizing that, too, is worthy of praise. 🍽️
I hope in this month of April (oh, it’s National Poetry Month…I’ll add one as a bonus 😊 below), you’ll honor the gifts of your life. I hope, like me, you’ll never exhaust the list. The more you notice, the more arrive. 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
A Gift
By Czeslaw Milosz
A day so happy. Fog lifted early, I worked in the garden. Hummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers. There was no thing on earth I wanted to possess. I knew no one worth my envying him. Whatever evil I had suffered, I forgot. To think that once I was the same man did not embarrass me. In my body I felt no pain. When straightening up, I saw the blue sea and sails.
—-
And, as all things are connected it seems, this poem reminds me of a young man who read the poetry of Milosz to me in Prague…and how that moment’s memory has always stayed with me.
My eldest grandchild left her Color reminder taped to our sunporch-art porch wall, and I did not see it until early this morning. Little lights people leave for us as they journey on…
…another GC reminded me to please take care of her works in progress. I will. So much more in those words than non- creatives might hear—I’m returning. I like what I was doing. Protect it for me. I had fun.
Witnessing is a big part of life—I’m pretty sure Bradbury said “Witness and celebrate”—and I am. Those around me are, too. Spider webs in many trees and quick lizards playing hide-and-seek in patio rafters and rocks to be claimed and puddles to jump in were here and noticed as we say farewell to October. A two sides carved pumpkin will be in transit to its artists’ home later. And that is its own simple story for today:
I planned to carve with children, but time got away as it does. Then I recalled an October decades ago when my mom was away. My new husband and I came to check on her place, and at some point I realized he’d never carved a pumpkin before. As an elementary teacher at the time, I carved them yearly with my students. Anyway, we had a little memory making that day and my mom was welcomed home with a grinning Jack-o-lantern on her porch steps. Fast forward to other Octobers, and my husband carved many pumpkins with our kids. And, he carved a final one for us his last year here. Today, I laughed as I used his hunting knife to carve our latest rendition. He would not approve of this use I’m quite sure…then again, it’s for our grandkids, so I’d likely get a free pass. I bet some little kids smile tonight when they see their pumpkin friend on their own porch…and the little things keep unspooling through the years. Because the little things often cost almost nothing. And they become part of our being. Kids remember far more of what we do than what we spend. 🎃
On the pumpkin theme, my young friend Mirren made a glorious pumpkin fairy house and her mom texted me a pic. All of us creatives hanging on in spite of distance and circumstances. 🥰🌟
So many good things to list this week, but the latest one involves another “little thing- big thing”—my sister and her husband are traveling abroad, and my daughter is there to welcome them and show them the sights. My sis has been sending me pictures, and knowing the happiness we can give by simply honoring another for good…well, gift.
Of course, we don’t have to be travelers to find joy. It’s right next door, down the street, in the next aisle over. In our own homes. Witnessing. Celebrating. Honoring what another might need. Don’t let the magic in front of you get away.
I’m writing to you from a covered patio today…it is a warm and breezy 75 degrees…and I am enjoying some Sunday afternoon solitude and re-set before I complete this day’s tasks. This is a favorite spot, but I haven’t allowed myself time in a long time to sit here and take in the sights and sounds. I spent a lot of hours here during the early days of the pandemic, and this is where I relearned how to listen and notice, or where those traits grew deeper. I still forget to use those gifts some days, but I know they are available.
I’m reminded of Saint Francis de Sales’ words:
“Half an hour’s meditation each day is essential, except when you are busy. Then a full hour is needed.”
The wildflowers look like a dusting of snow today. A woodpecker has been announcing his presence for weeks. I spotted him once at the backyard feeder, but he’s here, too…just letting me know but not telling me where exactly. It’s enough. I may have to make the short walk to the car and put on my driving glasses. His pecking sounds louder and closer.
I have seen a monarch and a nameless white butterfly this past week. See the jonquils are still blooming…not as prolific as some years but still a burst of sunlight in clumps here and there.
Now the geese have moved in closer, but they will have to make do with the abundance of natural food I see they are finding. Seed is poured once a day, and generous grandchildren already more than provided today’s meal.
I see wild pear dotting the trees around the pond. The pond is high after recent rains. Deer tracks present on a nearby levy. The raised bed needs zinnia seeds. Soon, I hope to make good on that.
A lot needs doing before this day ends, but this is time I am quite sure I won’t regret spending. Never have. De Sales knew it. I know it, too. 🌟
Take some meditation/solitude/awareness time for yourself this week. Let nature do her work on your soul. ❤️
Seven reminiscences this time, I think. I never know for sure until I sit here to begin. What gifts has the week prior given me? How many ways do all the crossings connect? ❤️…
Well, last week one of my students wrote to the poet Jan Gray. She liked his poem “Ghazal of Oranges” and set out to find some answers to questions she had. He answered her (not a small thing in this big world), and when I tell you it meant something, it really did. This student has a new view now of literature and poetry and humanity because of her action to discover and his action to reply.
Then, I shared the same poem at my GED class and asked a new student to read it. She agreed, but hesitated at first. She kept going, and at the end, looked up and said, You couldn’t have known, but his first line stopped me. My father died on New Year’s Eve…he, too, loved oranges. I felt his presence all around me as I read this out loud.
I told those students about the poet and my other student…how they will likely continue to communicate through emails now, this unexpected pairing. How odd and beautiful the world can be.
At the end of class, I asked this group to jot down their strengths, any areas they hope for help, anything they want me to know. I do this with different groups because all will not speak freely in a new class with strangers present, but they will usually respond in writing. As I leafed through the set, one student wrote a thank you note to me…a student who only shows up when his work life permits, when he can get there on his motorcycle. He encouraged me, turning the tables and reminding me that how we show up is as important as what we bring. We all just need to hear a kind and encouraging word sometimes…it means a lot to me and I’m sure to the others.
Teachers sometimes hear from the community or parents of students , but when we hear from students, it’s deeper and somehow truer to our ears.
So, all this to say: the value of words. Poems. People trying and succeeding in making meaning. All of us crisscrossing through the world connecting like beautiful threads.
This is counting as seven paragraphs haha…didn’t plan that either, but somehow think it works.
There were other precious moments during the week—saving some like a spool of thread, ready to unwind when needed.
As we enter February, I hope you find ways to express yourself to others—no sincere effort is ever wasted and only transforms into more good.
Week 4 of Advent, and the fastest Christmas season I remember in years…
This week’s theme: love.
That’s a good word to meditate on and carry with us through the next few days as we await the coming of our Savior.
I’m lighting the fourth candle late tonight, but glad to celebrate this marking of time.
So much light around us now: 4 candles lit. Let every heart prepare Him room…
Week 4…Love on the way.
And now for a recap of seven beautiful things that were good since last time :
Airport reunions…not just mine with a precious daughter, although that was the best one for me…but waiting and watching and seeing so many reunions, long hugs, raucous laughter, puppies and children and old people and all in between celebrating the return of another. My heart says thank you. 🌟
The drive that day to the airport…light traffic, easy travel. Christmas Canon playing as I hit the airport exit. 🌟 All the moments one’s heart knows there is so much beyond what we think we know.
Meeting friends and catching up on a year’s worth of news…as a matter of fact, there have been several friend reunions this week: gratitude for all of them, old and new. 🌟
Santas. The surprise gift ones destined to be yearly decorations, the merry ones in the midst of shopping, and one in Ft. Worth who embodied the original. So many people in our paths bringing joy. Let them. 🌟
Coming home to candy canes lining the driveway…an effort by my son to welcome his sister home. Traditions. Family meaning. Love. Christmas. 🌟
Real Christmas trees and lights and decorations and tinsel and lists and hurry and slow down and see it all and keep it in you for as long as you can. The messes. The joy. The love. 🌟
Magic. Being aware of it. Being able to create it for another. Being able to recognize it when someone creates it for you. Knowing the magic of Christmas is open to any who wish to feel it and to any who wish to create it for another. 🌟
Next Sunday, we get to celebrate the best gift of all. Until then, love yourself and love those in front of you. ❤️🌟🎄
It is the week to think about Peace. So, a few words about peace mixed in with my grateful post this week…
How often and steadily it can come to us when we seek it. How the small moments can brim with it. How we feel when it seems to be missing. I hope you find it this week.
Most days, I start the morning with coffee in front of the beginning tree that’s been up since September. White tree, white lights, a few un- breakable ornaments placed by young hands. Part of a paper chain. A plastic Jesus in the toy shopping cart nearby. Quiet time to see the blessings in front of my eyes.
I was especially grateful for that tree a couple of weeks ago when Covid decided it was my turn. That’s its own story, but in the hours my body said you aren’t moving from this couch, girl, I would wake to see those lights. I was grateful.
I am even grateful for the deep sleep sickness can bring. When we understand our body and mind must rest and recover, peace comes. It doesn’t always come on our timeline, but it comes. We make peace with our circumstances, or we suffer more. ❤️
Other goodnesses from the recent days:
Watching my daughter decorate her own white tree thousands of miles away. Knowing she comes home to the gift of light.
Seeing my grandchildren place ornaments on their family tree. Knowing one day they will look at the ornaments they make today with a smile.
Or, after recovering, on a busy errand day, looking up to see the tip of a Christmas tree in the back of someone’s pickup. Knowing that others honor December’s moments.
It was in a hug this week between me and a young woman who will spend her first holiday without her mom. It was in the silence and connection that asked God to give her His peace this season.
It’s around us, and it’s available to us. When we are outside of its realm, we crave it if we are wise. It is in the quiet walk, the silent nod or embrace, the background music of life. Sometimes it is tiptoeing through the messes, knowing they really don’t matter. They are just distraction. Seek peace.
It was in the pink rosary a granddaughter brought to me with her words: If you get sick again Loulou, wear this and the prayer you say will make you better. I do not have words to equal a child’s. ✌️
Some folks bring peace as part of who they are. A son bearing coffee, a niece leaving soup; gestures and offerings and kindnesses from sweet people in my life. A boss who covered my GED class herself. Another boss who texted to check on me and offered food. A cousin who offered to stand in for me if I couldn’t make a holiday show I was prepping for. Kindnesses.
The first Christmas card of the season. The mailbox does not see many cards anymore, so this is treasured. Angela. ❤️ 🎄❤️
And, I picture a busy daddy who sat across town with two little girls who crayoned messages and painstakingly copied my address to send me a rainbow greeting. And I’ll always remember the feeling that came with that.
So, there is my hodgepodge mixture of peace week and gratitude and December. For now.
I’m also grateful for vaccines and boosters and masks and all the ways I could have been sicker but wasn’t.
I was able to make one of my favorite art shows of the year, and it was a success. That experience alone was filled with many more than seven good moments, but I’ll save them for now.
Christmas is a coming, people. Be present for its wonder. ✌️✌️✌️
What a lovely time of year—I hope wherever you are reading this, you also feel a bit of cooler air, see a bit of magenta/plum/golden yellow. Take yourself for a walk in this beautiful month.
Today I’m going to use this space to honor my mom. She would have turned 100 this coming week, and she has been present in my thoughts. Here are seven things about her or that she taught me:
She quoted a verse from Sirach frequently: be good to yourself. She really meant it. She knew about self care before the experts did.
She loved to laugh. She could also laugh at herself.
She thought we all needed many more coats and shoes than we actually did, but I wouldn’t trade the fun we had looking for them through the years.
She was smarter than people gave her credit for being; she often chose silence instead of argument.
At her funeral, we gave each visitor a rose in her memory because she lived by the maxim “Flowers for the living” in all its iterations and meanings. She believed in telling and showing people today that they were loved, not waiting for that next time/later/someday moment.
She prayed. When I think of her today, I see her standing in awe in front of a cathedral’s altar on one vacation. I watched her give to others throughout the years I was lucky enough to be witness to her life. She embodied the presence of a Higher Power that I now realize is God in us. She was peace.
I cannot count the times she’s in my thoughts…how she’d be so proud of her daughters, her grandchildren, her great-grands. How she’d worry about us and do for us and pray for us and cherish us. How I wish I could tell her just one more time I love you, Mama.
So today, if you have a loved one that you are at odds with, maybe be quiet. Say a prayer for them. Wish them well. If you are on good terms, realize that is its own gift. Offer thanks.
Be kind. Be good to yourself. And others. This week, I hope to honor a commitment I made a few years ago: I’ll hand out flowers to random people throughout the day on October 5. And a beautiful being will live on.
The lady in the big box store handing out samples of wine in plastic cups and the laughter that ensued on a Saturday afternoon after a brief conversation…not just between us, but among all who were nearby overhearing and began laughing, too.
The college student who felt seen this week for the first time in a long time as we tried and succeeded to learn all of the many names of the students in a class…laughter and conversation and lots of barriers moved by getting to know someone’s name.
Pictures of little children from friends who are dear to my heart … our hope for brighter days.
Art workshop teachers who shared their gifts and insight and experience…
More birthday celebrations to honor with loved ones…
Texts and calls and Skypes and one special conversation with a stranger I’ll likely never see again…
and this leads to a little story I’ll share for #7 tonight:
Sometimes people tell us things. Maybe they don’t intend to, but stories come out—thoughts are shared. This happened to me a couple of days ago in a workshop. At a break, another participant told me of some private battles. Heartbreakingly serious ones. I wanted to do something, but as we know, sometimes nothing really helps. I kept thinking She needs an Infant Jesus of Prague medal. I don’t know why that, but the thought would not leave. When I went home, I pulled it out of the first sack I looked in…one of many where it could have been. I found it immediately. Then, I battled my own quandary—give it to her or not? I didn’t know if she might be offended by it. I didn’t know whether it would make her uncomfortable. I wrote her a quick note, and I put the medal inside. The next morning, I gave it to her. She was overcome with emotion…we both were.
She said, I do not know why I told you all that I did. It is not like me to say so much to a stranger. I only know it had to be God. And now this. Thank you.
More words were spoken. I looked at this person who was creating beautiful art, seemingly without a care in the world…and I thought about all the ways all of us keep going in the midst of terrible troubles.
So. Sometimes we know what we want to do, but we stop short. This week, walk out into the world and see people. Be open to their needs. Listen to the things they say. Know that if you are acting from a good intention, you won’t go wrong. Don’t be afraid to be kind in a broken world. Lately, I’ve been told a lot of sad stories from a lot of people. Stories that would leave you heartbroken.
Surely, we are not here to witness suffering without leaving someone the tiniest bit of comfort. A smile. A laugh. A sip of wine. A baby Jesus medal. A kindness. Let us try.
A blog reaching out to victims of abuse and others in need, providing insight about abuse, hope for the future, and guidance to see THE LIGHT that lead Secret Angel out of the darkness of her own abusive situation and helped her to not only survive but to overcome.
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