Priceless Gifts

This is the season of gift-giving. So much time and energy are spent considering just the right gifts for those on our lists that I sometimes wonder how much we contemplate the everyday gifts that may not carry a price tag but have the greatest and most lasting value, gifts such as love, time, presence, patience, kindness, joy and friendship. I have been recovering from surgery for the past several weeks. I have spent a fair amount of time considering each of those so-called everyday gifts and just how much they mean to me: the calls, cards, emails and visits from family, friends and neighbors, a prayer shawl and a lap quilt made by loving hands for my healing naps, flowers to provide me cheer, delicious meals and food gifts to nourish our bodies, the presence and kindness of my husband who has assumed nearly all of our household duties and served as my chauffeur, the joy of fresh air after being cooped up inside, and the laughter, fun and good energy that come from being with others. These are the truly priceless gifts that have come into my life as of late, in addition to the amazing, but often overlooked gift of health. As I return to work this month and assume a few of the normal goings-on of the hectic holiday season, I have an ever-present appreciation for the many priceless gifts that have come to me this fall and for the many gifts that come to me every single day. Just as others have been gifts to me, I am looking at ways to turn my gratitude into action and share whatever gifts I may have with others. It's not so much a season of consumption or even questioning consumption for me so much as it is a season of experiencing and counting my blessings, seeing and appreciating miracles every day. 

Breathe in Gratitude

Our minds and hearts go to a sense of gratitude this month, for November is the month of Thanksgiving.  As I get older, I find myself trying to devote more and more time to being in a state of thanksgiving, not reserving it for one day in November. A few years ago, I started a practice of listing three things for which I'm thankful when I awaken each morning and three more things before I close my eyes at night. Hard as it can be at times, I am trying to emulate the quote I read on Facebook a while back attributed to Henry David Thoreau: "I am grateful for what I am and have. My thanksgiving is perpetual...."  I think there is real peace and even a power in making the decision to give thanks every single day and as often as possible throughout the day. My pastor recently gave me information about something called The Examen, a spiritual practice developed by St. Ignatius of Loyola some 400 years ago that features a mindful, daily examination of our deepest feelings and desires. As part of the practice, one is to ask God to draw attention to the moment for which he or she was most grateful and then breathe in the gratitude in order to feel once again the life-giving properties from that moment. According to further online reading I did about The Examen, the concept calls us to reflect on our day with gratitude. So, this month, I will breathe in and breathe out my gratitude and I will fine-tune my focus to the many blessings I'm given each and every day.

Remembering Grandma

I am named after my maternal grandmother, Carrie Wood.  She was considered “Big Carrie” and I was “Little Keri” until I grew to be the taller between the two of us. October 30^th would have been my grandma’s birthday. Recently, I served as the honorary chairperson of a local Alzheimer's walk where I had the opportunity to pay tribute to Grandma Carrie.  When I think of her, I think of Christmas and the stacks of large coffee cans she would have filled with different types of fancy cookies. I think of the stollen she would make – a doughy bread-type coffeecake fashioned into a large crescent, filled with candied fruit and frosted with white icing. I think of Grandma’s beautifully decorated home that felt both elegant and cozy. I think of the pressed flower note cards that she made. I think of birthday cakes, holiday dinners and small, slender trays on which I could place my breakfast to eat in the living room in front of Saturday morning cartoons. I think of The Lawrence Welk Show and how much my grandparents had at one time liked to dance. I think of fingernail polish, fashionable pantsuits and Sanka coffee. I think of the card she wrote to me during a special time in my life with a note of love and encouragement, a card that remains a precious keepsake. I think of the slide shows that she and Grandpa would give to family upon their return from camping trailer trips out west. I think of the times around the kitchen table when Grandma, Mom and I would look at old family pictures, touching each image lovingly and telling a story to bring those old photos to life. My Grandma Carrie was a lovely woman with many gifts and many talents. When I close my eyes, I can still see Grandma Carrie. As time went on, however, Grandma changed.  Her world got smaller and her memory shorter. She got lost walking home from church one day. Keeping up with conversation became harder. She withdrew. Eventually, when my grandfather’s health prevented him from caring for her, Grandma Carrie moved to a nursing home.  Before she died there, she didn’t know most of our family members any longer, including my mom and my aunt. The lovely grandma who once showed me how to hand-sew turned into a stranger who expressed her frustrations of her illness by striking out. If only my grandparents had had access to the types of support services available today to people with Alzheimer’s and other dementias and their families and caregivers.  Perhaps, the weight of the changes going on in their lives would have been made lighter and their journey with the disease not so long and lonely. This month, I will carry the memory of Grandma Carrie close to my heart, for although the ending felt bitter, my memories of the lady I loved as Grandma Carrie are forever sweet.

Some Big Lessons from a Tiny Moth

The other night, I stood with fascination at our bedroom window, watching the wind bend the trees and the jagged stripes of lightning light up the sky in the distance. Right before me, clinging with all of its might to the window screen was a tiny white moth.  The fragile, little creature's delicate wings billowed with the gusts and its entire body swayed, but it hung onto the screen with all of its might. I kept wishing that it would crawl higher up on the screen under the eave where I thought there would be better protection, but it stayed resolute, using all of its strength to cling to that vulnerable spot on the window screen. I finally walked away with worry that the little thing would finally let loose and be blown away with the storm. Yet, when I came back some 15 minutes later, the little white moth was still in the same spot, still hanging on for dear life. As I went to sleep that night, I thought of the lessons I had learned from that delicate, little moth. When you believe in something, stay firm in your convictions, relying on what you feel is right. When the storms of life blow you around, leaving you to feel pretty beaten up, stay strong and cling to your values. When things get tough, have faith. Some pretty big lessons from a tiny moth.

Please note that I'm making some changes to my blog schedule. Going forward, I am going to post once monthly at 4:00 p.m. Central Time on the first Sunday of each month. Thank you for your loyal readership.  

Summer Reflections

Labor Day weekend is here, the unofficial conclusion of summer. How did those long-anticipated, delightful summer months go by so quickly?  I longed for the warm, breezy, verdant and beautiful days and evenings of summer during last winter's harsh, endless and unforgiving weather.  Once summer arrived, my husband Larry and I gratefully took advantage of every moment.  We took countless evening walks.  We attended numerous local events, concerts and festivals.  We consumed pounds of delicious produce sold at the downtown farmer's market. As I reflect on this summer, I think of actual reflections of the setting sun on Devil's Lake.  A long swath of brilliant orange would reflect on the water, causing it to sparkle and shimmer like jewels. Soon, we'll enter a new season of changing leaves, pumpkins, heavy sweaters and football games, but for the moment, I'll soak up the last hours of summer before it unofficially comes to an end. What a glorious season it has been.

Best Medicine for Mind, Body and Soul

I recently read a quote by Hippocrates: "Walking is man's best medicine."  For three seasons of the year, I take walks in the evening. Most of the time, my husband Larry walks with me and most of the time, our walks take us to Devil's Lake State Park.  Our evening walks put a period on the end of the day for me. Forty-five minutes of fresh air, birdsong and sweet-scented breezes are just enough to give me time to meditate, enjoy gentle conversation, become present and feel relaxed. The walk is good for my physical health to be sure and I truly appreciate its benefits, but it's what it does for my mental well-being that is of particular blessing. In his five short words, I believe that Hippocrates was right. Walking is indeed man's (or woman's) best medicine. Walking is easy exercise, requiring no fancy equipment, no special skills, no organized effort, just appropriate shoes and a desire to put one foot in front of the other and get moving. No bitter pill here. Walking is the perfect medicine for my mind, body and soul.

Fueling Our Passions

I'm no aficionado, but I do love looking at antique and classic cars. I admire the care with which a classic car owner tends to his or her vehicle. Last month, I had the pleasure of walking the downtown streets of our community for a classic car show. Our courthouse square was filled with 100 colorful, shining, perfectly detailed classic vehicles, ranging from trucks to roadsters, sedans to sports cars, even a truck that had a cannon for a human cannonball circus act affixed to its chassis. I couldn't help but think about the many objects or activities that fuel our passions, whether they're classic cars or quilting, gardening or baking, reading or running in marathons. Our passions feed our souls and express to the world a glimpse of who we are.  I know people whose passions have been clearly defined since they were children, where others have cultivated their passions over time, sometimes well into their adulthood. I have a close friend whose passion is art in its many forms.  For years, she quilted and sewed and gardened. These days, her passions have turned to painting. She paints intricate designs on eggs and rocks, each a miniature masterpiece. Whatever our passions are, I think life becomes richer, fuller, more meaningful when we allow ourselves to fuel them. Realizing our passions is a gift to ourselves and to others. What is your passion?