When I turned nine years old, as I opened each birthday gift I said, “oh, just what I always wanted!” I said that over and over. “Just what I always wanted!” It seems like that year I got a Barbie and some Barbie clothes Mom had sewed along with a few other things I adored and gushed over.
Happy Birthday!
Dad documented the day on 8mm film. A trip to the zoo was also part of the day’s celebration. I felt like a princess. That particular birthday along with other family event he recently transferred to CD for the family’s viewing pleasure. What a wonder-filled time of life that was.
I used to anticipate birthdays with pleasure and excitement. Not so much in the past few years. At a certain point getting older feels like less of a bonus and more of a deficit It’s better than the alternative though, right? I should probably change my attitude.
It embarrasses me when I’m the center of attention. At the same time being recognized, wished happiness, gifted or wined and dined has its perks. What a conundrum!
As a way to address my desire for a better birthday attitude I looked up a few of birthday jokes:
An old lady was being interviewed by reporters on the occasion of her 110th birthday. “What do you think is the reason for your long life?” they asked her. “Oh,” she replied, “I suppose it’s because I was born such a long time ago.”
Q: What do you always get on your birthday?
A: Another year older!
Some employees bought their boss a gift for his birthday. Before opening the gift, the boss shook it slightly, and noticed that it was wet in the corner. Touching his finger to the wet spot and tasting it, he asked, “A bottle of wine?” His employees replied, “No.” Again, he touched his finger to the box and tasted the liquid. “A bottle of scotch?” His employees replied again, “No.” Finally the boss asked, “I give up. What is it?” His workers responded, “A puppy.”
I thought those were good for a few laughs!
Seriously, I think this quote best captures how I’m feeling this year on the anniversary of the day my mother labored to bring me into this world:
“Age has given me what I was looking for my entire life – it has given me me . It has provided time and experience and failures and triumphs and time-tested friends who have helped me step into the shape that was waiting for me. I fit into me now. I have an organic life, finally, not necessarily the one people imagined for me, or tried to get me to have. I have the life I longed for. I have become the woman I hardly dared imagine I would be.”
Time and Age have gifted me something rare and unique; they have made me into the woman who writes, laughs, loves, rolls with the punches, loses her temper occasionally, wonders about life, feels grateful, shares what she can and revels in living.
Although far from finished and perfected, the person I am today is “just what I always wanted!”
Hey! It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m having a hard time coming up with a gratituesday. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got blessing out the wazoo. Narrowing down the gratitude to one thing befuddles me today.
Here’s some words I’ve encountered lately that have taken on added meaning. Most of them capture my current state of mind. The words themselves seem ordinary, but the heft and weight behind the words carries me through.
Here’s one my of favorite happy words. I’ve been lucky in this area. Three brothers who’ve gone through some rough times and have emerged like rock stars! Parents who’ve persevered and continued to love. A husband, children, grands. It’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?
I’ve seen recent examples of this word in my siblings, my dad, my mom, my children.
This word captures how I feel when I’m around my family, or friends. Or when I’m writing. Lack of a weight to carry or illumination, either definition of Light fits my mood.
The meat of the thing, the center, the prime motivator, the engine, the strength, where love symbolically lives.
Got plenty of these in a variety of forms, shapes and sizes. I’m especially thankful for the three sweet “littles” in my life. Got a brand new one I get to hold in just a few hours.
I have three of these. Each one as different as possible from the other. And yet, we find common ground in so many places. They’ve been a source of strength to me. They’ve been an example of selflessness and service over a long stretch. They keep the boat they’re on moving through whatever weather the seas and wind blow their way.
I think this word says enough all by itself.
What it’s all about, right? Got a ton of it in my life. Probably more than my fair share. Hoping I’m giving it as well as I’m getting it.
More the center of things than the heart, the word mother encapsulates all that is good and beautiful and healthy in my life. I owe her everything. I’m grateful that she’s okay and getting better every day.
Yeah, I know I started with this word. Everything would seem kind of pointless without this. So I’m extra grateful today for this one.
And here’s someone else’s words to summarize today’s gratitude.
“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.”— Melody Beattie
Feasting today on a full plate and a cup overflowing!
It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m grateful for my eyesight.
Colors blaze in every hue and tone, distinct, vibrant and clear. I can’t imagine life with color blindness. (Also known more accurately as deficiency of color vision.) A world of gray and white and black would lack vitality. What joy colors bring into the world.
(Photo credit: orangeacid)
Blessed with a full range of vision, my eyes and brain are aware and make sense of things on either side of me. I can successfully navigate the cluttered aisles of a store, a plate of food and the minefield that can be had in getting in and out of a car.
My eyes and mind communicate important information such as a fork in my hand or a doorway on my right or left.
Slight variations in what my right eye perceives and my left eye looks at gives me depth perception and lets me gauge the distance of my hands to the keyboard or the width and height of a step I might need to negotiate.
What a wonder to see clearly with the simple assistance of a pair of eyeglasses. Without these specifically curved and polished pieces of glass or plastic my world appears blurry and vague. With such simple tools I recognize faces, read signs, and enjoy a view in the distance.
Since my mother’s stroke her eyes work in a new way. As far as I’ve been able to decipher all the information I’ve just barely begun to study, the closest definition of what her eyes do is called homonymous hemianopsia. Basically it means that the right half of her vision in BOTH eyes is missing. There is nothing wrong with her eyes, but rather the error occurs in the brain. It would look something like this:
Now transfer that to every single thing you look at every day. A plate of food, doing your hair, reading a newspaper, checking your Facebook page, riding in a car, walking. Seeing only half of everything from both eyes!
The thought of it makes my heart hurt and my brain throb and my entire self want to drop to my knees. Exhausting. Learning to see becomes a whole new task, actually I suppose it’s learning to interpret what you see.
Mom usually just laughs when she can’t find her fork that she’s already holding in her right hand. Today she tried to get some jam from her glass of milk because her eyes told her she had picked up the jam jar. She just started giggling at the absurdity of it all.
If it were me I’d throw the glass of milk and the jam jar across the room and scream in total and complete frustration. But Mom, she simply laughs. Amazing woman!
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With time and healing and prayer her vision could improve and with it her ability to navigate her new world. That is our hope for her.
After breakfast we went on a drive out among the beauty of the rural countryside. I soaked it all in with my eyes like a water starved desert stranded person. Every wheat field, red barn, hillside, body of water, and silo filled me with wonder and gratitude. How blessed I am that I can SEE it all. To see it ALL!
I wanted to take photographs of every single thing I saw. I wanted to remember every detail, every color, every panoramic scene.
Look around you today. What do you see. Really look. Close one eye and look. Look out one eye and then the other, switching back and forth between the slight differences in perspective. Glance to your right and to your left without turning your head. What’s over there? Stare at your hand. See the freckles and the way the half-moon on your fingernails is lighter than the rest of the nail. Is the ceiling above you textured or smooth? Is there a reflection on the window? What color is the sky now, what color is it at seven?
Yes, I’m feeling immense gratitude today for what I can see.
What wonders there are around us.
What wonders there are in us.
Here’s a cover of a Johnny Nash Song “I Can See Clearly Now” that reminds me of my Mother’s optimistic attitude about the challenges she’s facing one month after her stroke. Thanks to the beautiful voices of Kristin Errett and Caleb McGinn.
Loved this quote and the painting it was on. I experienced the feeling of the heartbeat of the land when I visited Cherry Creek State Park in Aurora, Colorado a while ago. What a great idea to have nature in the middle of cityscape. Surely a place like that lends a feeling of well-being to anyone who gets to drive past, look at, utilize, experience or immerse themselves in it.
Near where I live is a riparian preserve, amidst the desert landscapes and suburbs and traffic. Less than a mile’s walk away finds me wandering quiet paths, breathing slightly more humid air, sighting rabbits, observing birds and laughing at various critters. My heart seems to tune itself to the heartbeat of the earth as I walk there. My mind quiets. Thoughts settle out. I see things clearer. It’s like a reboot for my soul.
I was lucky enough to grow up in the foothills, where a hike was five minutes away, and a cookout in the mountains for an evening meal was only half an hour away. We even took off for breakfast in the mountains at least once or twice a year. There’s nothing else like mountain air to whet your appetite. Cooking and eating outdoors is the best seasoning I’ve ever tasted.
I am one of those who can’t live without wild things. If I remember to get my daily dose of nature, of wildness in one form or another, then life flows smoother and feels happier. The trick is to remember and make time for this most important of daily rituals.
Do you touch base with nature every day? Does it make a difference in your life?
Twenty-five years ago the world rotated in a different direction.
Now you think I’m crazy. You’re thinking I’m like one of those “flat earth society” people.
(Have you ever seen that show called Honey Boo Boo? I rest my case.)
Okay, maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but I think some basic common sense stuff isn’t getting taught anymore, by parents or by teachers, or by society. It worries me a bit. Okay, more than a bit.
If you don’t believe me just read this short list written twenty-five years ago by Robert Fulghum.
“These are the things I learned [in Kindergarten]:
1. Share everything.
2. Play fair.
3. Don’t hit people.
4. Put things back where you found them.
5. CLEAN UP YOUR OWN MESS.
6. Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
7. Say you’re SORRY when you HURT somebody.
8. Wash your hands before you eat.
9. Flush.
10. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
11. Live a balanced life – learn some and drink some and draw some and paint some and sing and dance and play and work everyday some.
12. Take a nap every afternoon.
13. When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
14. Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the styrofoam cup: The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
15. Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the styrofoam cup – they all die. So do we.
16. And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned – the biggest word of all – LOOK.”
Isn’t this guy brilliant? If you like this list, you’ll love his book. If the list seems like a bunch of foreign concepts for you, then you should read this book. If you wish for a kinder world, a more logical planet, read this book.
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I guess what I’m trying to say is you should read this book.
In the meantime, I’m trying to “hold hands and stick together” more often. (Mom is giving me the opportunity to do that.) Numbers four, eight and eleven seem like areas I need to work on, as well.
I really like eleven. In fact, I think that’s my new affirmation for the next month. “Live a balanced life – learn some and drink some and draw some and paint some and sing and dance and play and work everyday some.” (for those of you who don’t want to have to scroll up to reread what number eleven is 🙂
And today I’m going to put extra effort into the warm cookies and cold milk thing. I’m pretty sure I could use that one. Right after number twelve.
Brain scanning technology is quickly approaching levels of detail that will have amazing implications (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m amazed, astounded and thankful for the human brain. As I watch my mother heal from her stroke I find it fascinating to see abilities and skills re-engage, words circle around and connect, ideas form and fill in. Skills that were nearly impossible two weeks ago now seem almost easy. Strength returns in surprising ways.
It’s equally surprising to see the areas that haven’t yet recovered. Similar abilities often use vastly different aspects of the brain. I never would have thought it worked that way.
For instance she can sit at the piano and play a simple song with both hands but finding her spoon on the tray and getting it into her right hand challenges her. Or she can carry on a perfectly normal conversation about almost any topic, until she’s asked about one of her children and the names elude her. And this one surprises me: she can tell a joke, but math baffles her.
I wonder as I hear her laugh, why her sense of humor has come back better refined, more active, mischievous and funnier. You’d think after going through what she’s been through she’d be upset, or feel sorry for herself, or aggravated at the losses and the challenges. But no, she’s optimistic, grateful and laughs at herself easily.
I think about the things an infant learns in just a few short months. Crying, eating, tracking objects with their eyes, reaching for toys, controlling head movements, sitting up, rolling over. All those synapses and nerves and neurons and signals and messages sent and received. What a wonder! Is there anything we’ve been able to create that duplicates that?
Seeing my own hands moving across the keyboard, typing, turning thoughts into words on a page seems miraculous and beyond belief. How does the brain do that? What electrical impulse does what where and how to make all that happen? I am in awe.
Before I get too serious I want to sidetrack here and say how giddy I feel, full up to overflowing with gratitude that Mom’s brain is healing and healthier every day. I also want to laugh out loud with gratitude. I think that feels incredibly appropriate.
So, In honor of my mother’s refined sense of humor and Dad’s new learning curve of care taking I’m including a couple of jokes that they will appreciate. You can laugh along if you want to. (Thank you Reader’s Digest for the great laughs!)
One hectic day at the hospital where I work, I was trying to take the medical history of a woman while being constantly interrupted. Flustered, instead of asking, “Are your parents alive or deceased?” I asked, “Are you alive or deceased?” She smiled and remarked, “I have got to start wearing more makeup! (–Vera Krause)
This next one actually reminds me of my parents:
Two elderly couples were walking down the street, the women a couple of metres ahead of the men. One man told the other that they’d had a wonderful meal the night before-great food, reasonably priced.
His friend asked for the name of the restaurant. “Well, I’ll need your help on this. Let’s see, there’s a flower that smells great and has thorns on the stem?”
“That would be a rose,” his friend responded.
“That’s it!” the man replied. Then he shouted to his wife: “Hey, Rose! What’s the name of the restaurant we ate at last night?” (– by Kerry Barnum)
A Dry Cleaning Joke
A man came into the dry cleaner’s where I work to pick up a pair of pants that he’d left two weeks before. He didn’t have his ticket, and I couldn’t find them. “Maybe you picked them up already,” I suggested. “I hope my memory isn’t that bad!” he replied, but said he’d go home and check. A minute later he was back, carrying the pants he had wanted cleaned. “I’ve been driving around with them in the car for two weeks!” he laughed. (–by Carolyn Brennan)
How many times have you sung along to a song, not completely certain of the lyrics? A few hundred at least? Yeah, me too. When you do find out the actual lyrics it sometimes changes how you feel about the song. Or it just makes the song make more sense.
Three and a half weeks after those first ominous days of uncertainty after her stroke, I watched my Mom sit down at a grand piano in a quiet wing of the hospital cafeteria. Her occupational therapist sat nearby as she put both hands on the black and white keys and played a simplified version of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.”
Surely orchestrated by some angel in charge of perfectly timed moments, for me that brief experience felt like serendipity! That song played within an hour of arriving at the hospital, captured my emotions at finally, blessedly being with Mom after so many weeks of enduring the tug and pull of needing to be in her physical presence.
Page 12 (right) of Ludwig van Beethoven’s original Ninth Symphony manuscript. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Every time I’ve heard “Ode to Joy,” especially the final movement when the chorus joins the symphony and raises the roof with Schiller’s German poem put to music, my heart has soared.
Imagine how my heart felt then, hearing my Mother, a pianist all her life, play the piano again, albeit, hesitantly. Relief, at her ability to read music and have it translate from eye to brain to hand to ivory, flooded through me. Surely as more healing takes place, as more therapy trains and retrains synapses and connections, she’ll be able to sit down and enjoy playing the piano with ease and confidence again.
I’ve never known the translation of the German lyrics. I only knew that my head and heart responded to the music with a sense of exultation and energy.
Surely, I thought, as I watched Mom struggle through some other simplified piano music, the lyrics to “Ode to Joy” must be very powerful to lend themselves so strongly to the impact of the music. Of course, I looked up the translation and wasn’t surprised.
Sorry to say it wasn’t a poem about the joy of a mother and daughter reunited. But it’s not far off. It’s a song of brotherhood, of relationships, of the joy that can occur because of those connections.
Honestly, the whole of humankind is a family. The potential for joy astounds when looked at that way. But of course, we personalize and take things in small bites. We learn how to interact in family groups and then let that translate out into the world.
That’s just my take on the music and lyrics.
But don’t take my word for it. I’ve included the English translation below. And I also want you to be able to feel the joy in this music, so, of course, I’ve included a phenomenal flashmob link for you to click on. I recommend having tissues nearby.
Now that I know what the lyrics are, it changes how I feel about the music. From here on out it will remind me of my mother, of my family, of those most important of connections. Those permanent bonds of love and caring bring more joy than anything I know.
Joy, bright spark of divinity,
Daughter of Elysium,
Fire-inspired we tread
Thy sanctuary.
Thy magic power re-unites
All that custom has divided,
All men become brothers
Under the sway of thy gentle wings.
Whoever has created
An abiding friendship,
Or has won
A true and loving wife,
All who can call at least one soul theirs,
Join in our song of praise ;
But any who cannot must creep tearfully
Away from our circle.
All creatures drink of joy
At nature’s breast.
Just and unjust
Alike taste of her gift ;
She gave us kisses and the fruit of the vine,
A tried friend to the end.
Even the worm can fell contentment,
And the cherub stands before God !
Gladly, like the heavenly bodies
Which He set on their courses
Through the splendour of the firmament ;
Thus, brothers, you should run your race,
As a hero going to conquest.
You millions, I embrace you.
This kiss is for all the world !
Brothers, above the starry canopy
There must dwell a loving Father.
Do you fall in worship, you millions ?
World, do you know your Creator ?
Seek Him in the heavens !
Above the stars must He dwell.
Recently discovered this song by Phillip Phillips.
Still resonating in my head and in my heart. I think it hits home, plucks those chords running through who I am. It reminds me of all the people I love so dearly. It recalls the love I’ve received so selflessly over the years in spite of it all.
The video adds another dimension of meaning and beauty. I’ve included the lyrics afterwards so you can really catch the meat of it all.
Thanks to such wonderful artists who had a hand in this one. It’s all you, I’m just happy to share the splendor of what you do.
Phillip Phillips Gone, Gone, Gone is a track from his début album “The World from the Side of the Moon”.
When life leaves you high and dry
I’ll be at your door tonight if you need help, if you need help
I’ll shut down the city lights,
I’ll lie, cheat, I’ll beg and bribe to make you well, to make you well
When enemies are at your door I’ll carry you way from more
If you need help, if you need help
Your hope dangling by a string
I’ll share in your suffering to make you well, to make you well
Give me reasons to believe that you would do the same for me
And I would do it for you, for you
Baby I’m not moving on
I love you long after you’re gone
For you, for you
You would never sleep alone
I love you long after you’re gone
And long after you’re gone gone gone
When you fall like a statue
I’m gon’ be there to catch you
Put you on your feet, you on your feet
And if your heart is empty
Not a thing will prevent me
Tell me what you need, what do you need
I surrender honestly
You’ve always done the same for me
And I would do it for you, for you
Baby I’m not moving on
I love you long after you’re gone
For you, for you
You would never sleep alone
I love you long after you’re gone
And long after you’re gone gone gone
You’re my back bone, you’re me cornerstone
You’re my crutch when my legs stop moving
You’re my headstart, you’re my rugged heart
You’re the pokes that I’ve always needed
Like a drum baby don’t stop beating
Like a drum baby don’t stop beating
Like a drum baby don’t stop beating
Like a drum my heart never stops beating
For you, for you
Baby I’m not moving on
I love you long after you’re gone
For you, for you
You would never sleep alone
I love you long after you’re gone
For you, for you
Baby I’m not moving on
I love you long after you’re gone
For you, for you
You would never sleep alone
I love you long, long after you’re gone
Like a drum baby don’t stop beating
Like a drum baby don’t stop beating
Like a drum baby don’t stop beating
Like a drum my heart never stops beating for you
And long after you’re gone gone gone
I love you long after you’re gone gone gone