Tiny Habits

It is pure coincidence I have found the desire to write out loud on the day of New Year's Eve. It is even more coincidental I want to write about habits. 

First off, I have recognized an ache within myself I've been filling with food, Netflix, purging on TV series, scrolling, inactivity and simply not being as productive as I am capable of being. 

I have developed an unhealthy relationship with food, TV, cell phone and the ache I feel for isolation. I know I can't solve everything at once but I can tell the essence of "me" is ready to receive direction towards a better way.

I came upon this blog post "Tiny Habits" (bemorewithless.com) many days ago. It spoke to me in a way few things have penetrated my thoughts lately. I scribbled down a few points on a scrap of paper:

• change morning routine - write; read &/or breathe deeply (meditate??)
• movement breaks - every 1 - 2 hours
• gratitude journal
• read
• tackle one decluttering task for 15 minutes
• walk after meals
• ONE line a day journal

This sounds so simple, I thought I should start all of the goals immediately. Then decided otherwise, as I would prefer to add one new habit at a time. So I moved the scrap of paper around daily and changed nothing, other than "drinking more water" (the one new habit I've been diligently maintaining, which is making the "bathroom movement breaks" goal very attainable).  

If I do nothing else, it is my hope to incorporate gratitude and ONE line-a-day that made an impact on me, onto this blog so I can attempt to get back into the habit of writing.

I have missed finding my own answers as I let my fingers fly over the keyboard and write the words that are swimming around aimlessly in my head and make sense of them as they formulate a blog post. I start writing and allow distractions into the room and lose my way. 

I have made myself a sandwich; took a picture and emailed it to myself; responded to a text message; washed this morning's coffee cup and arranged all the ingredients I need to make hamburger soup on the counter after I wrote down the bullet points I hoped to write about this morning.

Distraction is high on the list of habits I want to change as I feel the yearning inside of me to do better, be better and live better than I have been.

I'm not going to make specific goals. I want to alter my habits. Rome wasn't built in a day. ONE step at a time. I can do better. I want to change one bad habit at a time.

Today's challenge? Paint the inside of the cupboard under the sink. I have readied the area and opened the cupboard so the cats can investigate to their heart's content before there is wet paint to contend with.

My intention is set. And I've added a hearty, homemade soup to my agenda to appease my insatiable appetite. I want to curb my appetite with nutritious food - not the McDonald's meal I am truly craving. 

Junk food satisfies a craving. Nutritious food satisfies a body's needs and lasts longer (if one doesn't eat 5 cookies in quick succession after eating a meal). Pause. Let my brain realize my stomach is full before purging on sugar for (yet another) quick fix. 

ONE step at a time. One step in a forward direction. 

Today's Goal

Update (2 hours later):

 

I achieved what I set out to do. Done!

I am now off to watch Oprah talk about how to "Build the Life You Want".

This is NOT the end.

Breathing in the Moment

 I woke up in a deeply feeling mood this morning. 

The kind of mood where I can hear the world speak to me through my daily meanderings through various blogs I follow.

I found the answer to the question "Why did you keep going back to your marriage?" within a blog post written by Allison Fallon: "There are moments where I am wondering what I have done wrong and why nothing I tried would fix any of it. Fix him. Fix me so he could love me. Fix me so I could love him."

That's "it"! That is exactly it. Written by someone who has walked a parallel walk. Someone who has the ability to put words to my thoughts. Precisely. Exactly. 

This is why our world needs artists. Those who can create, write, sing, paint and illustrate the world as they feel it so we can all find our connectedness within the thread that is woven into the art.

I am growing weary of this tired little life I am living. A life that feels wrung dry from the demands of my paid vocations. 

I am nourishing myself with potato chips, sweets, home renovation shows and Netflix. "Hope for Wildlife" has become my oxygen source. Watching a caring group of people rescuing, loving, reviving, saving and setting these living, breathing beings back out into their habitat is fueling a small spark I feel within me.

I admire Hope Swinimer's undying devotion to her passion. How caring for a robin that had been attacked by a cat was a step towards a future that has impacted the world around her, those who work with her and thanks to the marvel of television, spread the word to millions.

One incident. One person. Igniting the passion within.

I truly believe we all have a spark within us, just waiting to catch fire. 

I have had a hard time fanning the flame within me. I am a shell of the being I am capable of being. It feels as though my flame has been extinguished.

Then I have a morning such as this. A day where the world is reaching out and touching me. Truly, all days are just like this. The difference is this morning, my receptors are open to taking it all in.

If only my day job(s) didn't have to get in the way.

Perhaps that is why my daycare worked for me for so many years. I could wake up to a morning such as this and run with it with my little daycare crowd. We could go outside and breathe in the wonder of the world, stand in a sun beam and just marvel at the smallest of things...

Morning Thoughts

"Decluttering your mind" - these are the words that spoke to me loudest in my morning stroll through the Interwebs in a quest to reroute my thoughts. The blog which caused me to pause is "Be More With Less"; the post that caught my attention is "One Simple Way to Declutter Your Mind". The following ideas are not my own but I like this take on putting worries to rest.

I have read time and time again, that gratitude is key to healthy, happy living. I wholeheartedly believe this to be true. Counting my blessings, especially during tough times has been my coping mechanism for forever. 

As grateful as I feel for that which I have within my life, anxiety continues to plague my thoughts. I can talk myself down from most anything but life is not perfect. As much as I can try to interject a wide view perspective of that which feels unjust and hurtful, my heart still carries the weight of some days long after the moment has passed.

What is suggested in the article I read, is to write down the thoughts that are cycling through your mind before you go to sleep at night. Write it out. Good, bad or anything in between. Then give yourself permission to let it all go and revisit this list in the morning.

I have done this unintentionally on a few occasions. The days that haunt me. The words I can't say out loud. I write them down, feel them, read them from a wide angle lens for perspective. Thoughts cycle around and around and around in my mind. Thoughts feel bigger than they are when unspoken, just as a small ball of snow rolled around in the snow long enough becomes big enough to make a snowman.

I have used writing as a tool to regain my perspective, come up with a plan of attack and simply cope for as long as I can remember. But I have never consciously written down my thoughts with the intent of emptying my mind for a good night's sleep. Then revisiting them in the light of day.

The first light of the morning often brings clarity to that which is weighing you down. My best ideas, answers and plans of attack are clearest in the dawn of a new day.

That said, my heart is heavy this morning. I don't know why. The morning sun did not work its magic for me. I have to leave the house today. I want to stay home.

This morning feels hard. This too shall pass. I know this is true. One forward step at a time. I will make my way to another weekend. A weekend without my roofer elves upon my roof (they are back this morning for their third and final day).

I do believe I'm in the midst of a long weekend hangover. A hangover that consists of a list of all I hoped to do, with little-to-nothing crossed off that list. It is time to create an action plan.

I wrote those words and immediately thought to myself "I need a holiday" and looked ahead at the calendar and dared to dream.

I don't need to go anywhere. I have no desire to run. I simply want to be home. I want to stay home and savor my mornings, knowing I can revel in those early morning moments for as long as they last. Perhaps take some day trips. Visions of an elastic band which expands and contracts, always bringing me back home wafts through my mind as I dare to dream ...

I spotted our neighborhood rabbit this morning. I haven't seen this guy for a very long time. I have been watching, waiting and hoping to spot the rabbit(s) that hop through our streets. I want to be still and watch nature unfold before my eyes.

And how is your Tuesday-after-the-long-weekend feeling? 

It is Time

I have been searching for a blog writer who speaks to me for quite some time now. I finally found her. Her blog is called "Robin Kramer Writes". When I read how she describes herself: "Writing is how I make sense of the world", I knew I had found a virtual friend.

I have gone back through the archives of her blog and started reading from the beginning. I am presently up to July 13, 2011: http://www.robinkramerwrites.com/2011/07/garage-sale.html
Once again, it was a phrase that came through the computer screen and grabbed me "I realized something about myself.  Having too much stresses me out."

Exactly! She is inside my head and is writing what I am thinking, seven years before I came to realize the exact same thing.

Having too much stresses me out.

I slowly came to realize My Time of Great Down Sizing after closing my daycare happened in order to make room for what was coming. I was thinking more along the lines of renting out the upstairs of our home or my invitation for Mom to move in. I didn't intentionally make room for Mom's belongings after she died. But that is exactly what happened.

I didn't want anything of Mom's. I didn't need anything. What I had was enough. I didn't want more. Thankfully my sister didn't listen. She brought a trailer load of stuff to fill the empty spaces of our home. I quite honestly plunked these furnishings down as she brought them in and I haven't moved them again. I had accidentally made room for them. They fit. They belonged. My sister knew.

The room which is weighing me down is the room which is filled with Mom's spirit. Her books, her memories, cards and letters I wrote to her, pictures, paperwork ... and the list goes on.

It is too much.

I walk in there and I pretty much know exactly where to locate something I am looking for. In fact, just this moment I went in and retrieved Mom's copy of the book To Kill a Mockingbird after reading Robin's quote from the book in the above mentioned post.

I have been searching for a more fulfilling purpose within my after work hours and I do believe I have stumbled onto the "what's next" portion of this life I'm living.

"Having too much stresses me out". It is time. Time to open some cupboards and start lightening my load again. I need to organize and make room for what is important within "Mom's room". That room is so laden and heavy right now. It is time to make room for "what's next"...

 "This" is where I need to begin. I've been saying it for months but I have not had the energy nor motivation to put my words into action.

Thanks, Robin. Thank you for writing what I have not yet put words to within this head full of untranslated thoughts. I have too much. I need to create some order within Mom's room. I suspect I will find a great amount of peace will come during and after the transformation.

It is time to make a plan. It is time to start moving forward and through the past year in a physical kind of way.

Feeling Watered Down

I read this quote from a guy who lives in the 16' box truck and writes a blog about it. I am mesmerized by the concept of "living small' and I think this quote sums up why I crave to simplify my life:

"I don't enjoy being busy. I enjoy creating fulfilling work to do, but having too many things going on in my life only dilutes how much of myself I'm able to put into each one." ~ Thoughts From Inside the Box

His words nailed it on the head for me. I do not enjoy the state of busyness. A sense of purpose? Definitely. The feeling of accomplishment? Yes. Enough to do to appreciate the luxury of doing nothing? Absolutely. Being busy? No.

"Creating fulfilling work." Yes. Yes! And YES! As daunting and overwhelmed as I feel when I'm in over my head doing something that matters, it fuels me when I'm doing something that creates a sense of purpose and belonging. It is a little bit like being in the middle of a good novel. You open a book not knowing if you are up to following through and reading until the end. Then you get to the middle and you can't wait to turn the next page. You are on the edge of your seat (or couch or whatever). Then it ends. Yes, I would like to live a life that feels like I'm "living in the middle of a chapter", doing something that matters to me.

"Having too many things going on in my life only dilutes how much of myself I'm able to put into each one." Oh. My. Gosh. YES!! I don't feel like I'm doing anything "right" or "enough" or with passion these days. I just sleep-walked (slept-walked??) through the last week trying to knock too many things off of my eternal to-do list. I got to the end of a day and wondered if I had absorbed any one minute and revelled in it. It was a terrible way to live a week. Yes, I accomplished most of what I had set out to do. But I was miserable while stuck in the mire of that particular chapter of my life. Blech! Last week is not the week I want to be remembered by.

I have done more "impossible things" around the house this morning than I feel like I've done in a month. But I have done so with a purpose and a goal. My second son is headed over and I have about an hour and a half left to do what I want to do. Then I'm going to walk away from all responsibility and live my weekend in the moment. I hope.

That is my goal. To clear the clutter of my life off  my plate this morning and be where I want and need to be this weekend.

Signing off for now. I'll see what words find me as I get quiet and centered. I'll be back!

Inspired *UPDATED* $1,000,000 raised in 31 hours!

I don't have any of my own words right now. Please read these instead:

Europe is facing the biggest refugee crisis since World War II. People are drowning in tiny rubber rafts, freezing on cold beaches. They are walking for miles, for days—carrying their babies on their backs and in their arms—only to be met by fences, border guards and seizures. Fleeing from a terrible war to seek a peaceful future for their children has left them in danger and without country. Read more at ~ http://momastery.com/blog/2015/12/22/darkest-day-bring-the-light/

I am reading about the refugee crisis and watching/reading about the work Glennon Doyle Melton, Cheryl Strayed, Brené Brown, Elizabeth Gilbert and Rob Bell are doing. They have started The Compassion Collective, and set a goal of raising one million dollars to bring aid, support, comfort and care to refugees in Europe. Within almost 24 hours, they raised $500,000.

As of two hours ago, they had reached the $750,000.00 mark. One hundred percent of the money they raise goes directly into the hands of those who are helping the refugees in Germany, Serbia, France and Greek Isles (read more here: http://momastery.com/blog/2015/12/18/saving-lives/)

Here is a direct quote from Doctor Linda, a volunteer working on the ground in Lesvos :

“There are thousands of children here and their feet are literally rotting, they can’t keep dry, they have high fevers and they’re standing in the pouring rain for days on end. You have one month guys, and then all these people will be dead.”

And this: “The mamas are standing at the gates asking the guards to let them and their children in, or to kill them and put them out of their misery because that would be more bearable. Because they are watching their babies slowly starve and freeze to death.” 

I started following the work of "The Compassion Collective" yesterday morning and donated the maximum they accept ($25.00). I woke up and read some more this morning and donated on behalf of my three children and my mom."We" don't need things. $25.00 (times five) can make a difference on the other side of the world.

$3 will buy a pair of gloves, $4 will purchase warm blanket. $2 buys a warm hat. It’s $5 for socks, $29 dollars for a sleeping bag, $33 for a warm coat.

A baby sling for a family costs $25.

The floodlights and heaters project costs $328 a day. It designed to light up cold waters at night—to provide for lamps so that rescuers can find people in the water when they cry out, and warm tents with heaters in them so that refugees warm up and get dry after they arrive.

Building a shelter for a vulnerable family in Calais costs around $300, and feeding all the refugees on the Greek island of Samos on meal a day for a month costs $50,000. It costs around $110 to feed a family of five for a month.

Twenty five dollars doesn't even "hurt". It doesn't seem like enough, so I shared links on my Facebook page in the hope that one more person would read it and feel the same as I did. The whole premise behind the work of these brave warriors who have done all the leg work, research and found the best way to help, is that they "want to raise one million dollars through small gifts with great love" ~Glennon Doyle Melton

It amazes me to think that the positive forces of the world can come together and make this happen. I am awestruck. 

From Elizabeth Gilbert's Facebook page:

This is where your money is going:

BLANKETS.

BABY CARRIERS.

LIFE JACKETS.

FOOD.

WARM CLOTHING.

FLOOD LIGHTS (for pulling people out of the water at night)

LAMPS.

WOODEN SHELTERS.

LIFE.

This money is going to to life — to save human lives.

Like: IMMEDIATELY, in real time. You have no idea how efficient these people are, who we are working on the ground, helping out. They're amazing.

Those of us who are warm and dry and safe and well-fed must show up for those who are cold and wet and endangered and hungry. That's a rule of life. Every ethical and religious and spiritual tradition in the world agrees on that rule.

It is impossible to comprehend what these people are going through. I cannot even begin to think of this happening in our country. Ever. I feel safe. I hope this is not an illusion. 

Within the safety, warmth, comfort and security of my home, I sat at my computer this morning, tapped a few buttons and donated enough to buy gloves, a warm blanket, a warm hat, socks, a sleeping bag, a warm coat and a baby sling. I didn't even need to get dressed to do so. It didn't even hurt. 

This year, the Christmas story isn’t ancient history. The Christmas story is unfolding in real time. Once again—the world is deciding if we will feed and clothe and love little ones with God inside of them. ~ Glennon Doyle Melton

**UPDATE!! Love Wins!!**

The Boy Who Stood Alone

The recess bell rang and that was my cue to pack up my little daycare family and head for home.

We took a few minutes to shake the sand out of our shoes first, so recess was in full swing by the time we made our way across the tarmac and out of the school ground.

I noticed a boy leaning against a brick wall in an alcove, out of sight from the rest. The moment I noticed him, I thought of the days my second son attended that same school. He got picked on a lot in those days. When I asked him where the teachers were, he said this happened out of their line of sight.

I saw "my son" standing there when I noticed this boy and I was on high alert to be aware of anyone who may be lurking and just waiting for an opportunity to pick on this boy without being noticed.

No one else was around. This secluded area seemed to be the place this boy went to "endure" recess.

He had a look about him that shouted to me "I feel different", "I don't fit in here". Recess looked very uncomfortable on him.

After we passed him, I kept looking back and checking on him. Was he okay? Did anyone else notice him? Was there anything I should have done?

I was walking with a stroller full of joy. I watch people of all ages and sizes light up like a Christmas tree when my little group of children beckon and wave and say hello. I could have tried to walk a little closer to see if my little people could spread some of their "happy".

I felt like an interloper as we exited the school ground. Adults and children are very wise to be cautious of people who hang around playgrounds. I don't think I looked like a threat to anyone as I made my way home with my three little ones who had just finished playing at the playground. But I still didn't feel it was right to approach this young boy.

I wondered as I walked home. How would my children have handled finding a student who had voluntarily segregated himself from the crowd?

One of the blog authors I read is the mother of two autistic children and one of her biggest concerns is exactly what I saw. "How will they be treated by others in the big, scary world out there?"

Glennon Doyle, from Momastery publishes a letter she wrote to her son at the beginning of each school year "The One Letter to Read Before Sending Your Child to School"

I am grateful for eyes that have been opened enough to see what was invisible to me before. As I looked up the "One Letter to Read..." and started to reread it, suddenly I "knew" what to do.

I printed off the letter and I will stop by at the school today and tell them this little story of what I saw at recess yesterday. I will give them a copy of Glennon's letter and hope that it falls in good hands.

I know the schools are doing all they can, with the limited resources they have. The one resource they do have is their student body. One student can make all the difference in the world to one scared and lonely child.

If schools taught nothing more than compassion for those we do not understand, our world could become just a little bit of a better place.

So Many Thoughts, So Little Time

I woke up just before my alarm this morning and I got up at the time it was actually set for (my bedroom clock is presently twenty minutes fast because every time the power goes out, the battery not only restores the time, it adds five minutes onto it).

I had time to respond to emails and send new ones. My favorite blog authors came out of hibernation and wrote words and essays "just for me".

Everything spoke to me this morning. Ping! Ping! Ping! I feel like a pinball wizard. Every word is hitting home.

Mother's Day is around the corner and I should be spending some of my daycare hours trying to find ways to honor the mothers in my midst. I am not quite certain how to do this without it becoming expected in the future. I am not always so inspired, so I hate to set a precedent I can't maintain.

I'd like to come up with some deep and thoughtful idea for my own mom. I have so many worn out old phrases, I'd like to find a new and improved way to honor her.

I have been given a reprieve on the "daycare front" this week and there have been cracks in my days where I can tend to unfinished business outside of my daycare world during the day. Taking a few items off of my to-do-list has released some excess energy.

Words, ideas and energy are starting to flow. This is not a guarantee they won't dam up again any time soon, but if I can keep up to some of these thoughts maybe they won't pile up on me again.

I also woke up to the news that there has been a schedule change for my "new guy" at daycare. He has not yet found his niche in our little family and keeping him happy and entertained &/or distracted is a full time job. So I must cut this short because I am quite certain today will not be a full-on daycare kind of day.

I think I'm ready.

If you want to read some articles that inspired me this morning, check these out:

Glennon, at Momastery: http://momastery.com/blog/2015/05/06/the-most-important-thing/
Chrissy, at Life With Greyson & Parker: http://www.lifewithgreyson.com/2015/05/feeler-fixer-finer.html

Doing the Next Right Thing

A little guy who I take care of within my daycare world is a lovable little gaffer. He has a personality that shines, he has a zest for life and eyes that could light up a city. 

He is as smart as a whip, smarter than me I think, which has caused no end of challenges and struggles but we are working things out. Bit by bit, day by day.

He has developed a habit which cannot continue. He hits. Often he hurts someone with a toy he has in his hand as he delivers a blow. It hurts. his friends are getting angry and frustrated. I am getting angry and frustrated.

I have tried everything I know how to do, to try and help him understand he is hurting people. I have told him to hit himself with the toy in question so he knows how it feels. He does it, continues to do it and I have even noticed him voluntarily hitting himself with a toy when he doesn't even know I'm looking.

There have been time outs, angry/stern voices as I "deliver my lesson" to him, isolating him from others, every thing I can possibly think of, I  have tried.

All of this, yet we still don't see eye-to-eye on this situation. It has been extremely frustrating.

Yesterday, our brand new week started out with a hitting issue. I put him in a time out in the kitchen, I met him on his level and cupped his chubby little cheeks in my hands, looked him directly in the eye and said, "That hurts. You are hurting people. Hands off! Be kind. Be gentle. Be gentle..."

He looked directly into my eyes and soul and ever so quietly, ever so sternly and with great intent behind his words, he said, "I don't like you".

I thought I heard him wrong so I asked him to repeat himself. And he did. "I don't like you."

It was unmistakeable. He doesn't like me. At least not in that moment. 

In that very moment, I didn't particularly like his actions either. So that was my response to him. "I don't like what you are doing right now."

And our day continued to move on in a forward direction. 

He continued to reoffend and I continued to be frustrated and tried my very best to catch him in action so he understood exactly what actions were offensive to me.

The good outweighed the bad, by far, and our day was all-in-all a good one.

Their were many more minor infractions within my small daycare family. I had had a most perfectly balanced and fulfilling weekend and I was on my A-game. Let me stress the word "my" within that sentence. I was by no means perfect, but I was so much better than I have been.

The girls were acting like mean, spiteful teenagers among themselves. They were being unkind and acting in ways which were hurtful to those around them.

One of my little girls is an instigator. I rarely catch her doing wrong but I am quite certain her actions are often the starting point where the second or third person down the line gets caught doing something wrong because they are reacting to her behaviour.

Yesterday, I caught her in action a few times.

She was absolutely devastated. She burst into tears with a dramatic flair and she didn't have to say the words. I knew in that very moment she did not like me either. I was really on a roll.

I felt bad that she felt so badly but I did not want to lose the momentum of catching her in the act of doing something wrong and hurtful to her friends. So I focused on "Do the next right thing" (this is a quote of Glennon Doyle's - I am not that wise). 

I couldn't believe the power I felt by inserting those words into our day, so I elaborated with some of my own.

"Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone. All we can do is do the next right thing. Let's start from here and just be kind to each other. Do the next right thing."

I subconsciously propel myself through my days with this mantra in my head. I make so many mistakes. I am not better (probably worse, because I know better) than the small people in my care. I try to stop myself in my tracks, take a deep, long breath and tell myself to do better. "Do the next right thing."

It is really all we can expect of ourselves. 

When we know better, we (try to) do better. We all make mistakes. We all say and do things we wish we could take back the moment we do them. How can I expect my young charges to do any better than me, when I struggle each and every day to simply "do my best, restart and redo whenever I can and do the next right thing"?

Forgiveness, friendship and kindness are what we focus on here within our daycare world. It isn't easy. But it is necessary.

"All relationships take work. Sometimes that work looks like a disagreement or an argument. It may also look like stress that creates tension. Don't worry! It is all part of the work. The key to a successful relationship is to allow the work to take place, to allow the communication to continue, and to keep your heart open to love and be loved." ~ Iyanla Vanzant

Enough

The words "Good Enough" are the words I incorporated into my thinking and lifestyle as the year 2014 wound down to a close.

After many lessons (I ignored) teaching me 'perfection' is not the ultimate goal one should strive for, I finally realized 'done' is better than 'incomplete'. The goal of 'perfection' was keeping me from completing what I had set out to do. So I settled on the goal of Good Enough.

Good Enough proved to be life affirming for me.

I learned to define myself by those very words. 

I am not the best mother in the world. Nor am I the worst.

I am not the best friend, daughter, sister, daycare provider, bookkeeper, writer, yard-maintainer or house-cleaner in the world. Nor am I the worst.

I am not the best at following a budget nor setting or attaining my goals nor striving to be my best self on a day-to-day basis. Nor am I the worst.

I could be so much kinder or more generous or more compassionate or loving or any number of adjectives I use to describe those who I admire. 

I am half the person I wish I was. I am a quarter as good as others think I am. I could and should be more of who I am.

But ... despite all of that. I have given myself permission to believe:

"I am not as good as I could be. But I am good enough."

This new mantra keeps me humble, yet secure enough to accept a compliment without putting myself down in the process. 

My inner dialogue has grown from "I am not the person you believe me to be (and let me convince you how wrong you are)" to "I am not as good as you believe but I am good enough. Amen."

The year 2014 also ended on another note which (in the past) would have threatened the very ground I stand on. Financial stability.

I had recently discovered that I could be losing two out of three of my full-time daycare charges. One, due to an impending maternity leave. The other, due to a change of address (they moved to the opposite end of the city). There also came the concern that losing one three-year-old may affect the my other (part-time) three-year-old's desire to come to my daycare without her friend here.

In the past, this would have been cause for great concern. 

What I have learned from fourteen years of running a daycare, added to thirty seven years of which I have been supporting my own family, is 'it always works out in the end'.

No matter how much I have sat down and tried to budget and account for every penny coming into and going out of my pocket, there is always something I have not accounted for. There is (or at least has not been for me) no such thing as accounting for every and all contingencies (just watch a few dozen home renovation shows and you will see what I mean).

The more I worried, the more things happened.

Then something happened. I stopped worrying.

I have no idea what cosmic forces came into play when I stopped worrying about there being enough income to offset the expenses. But whatever it is, it is working.

I always have 'enough' to pay the bills. And live life, as I choose to live it, as well.

There is enough to indulge myself in that-which-makes-me-happy. Outings with friends and family. Take-out food when I feel like I need it the most. Extra-curricular spending in the form of gifts, trips or extravagances as I deem 'necessary'. There is always enough.

This past Christmas was no exception. The funds I had budgeted for Christmas seemed to get absorbed by other expenses. I gave in very moderate ways but I gave all I wanted to give as well. 

Christmas was 'paid in full' before Christmas Day arrived and I just happened to receive (more than) enough gift money to cover the remaining costs related to my trip to Vegas next month.

Then the calendar page turned and it was 2015. We are ten days into the new year and miracles continue to amaze and astound me. Remember, it takes very little to amaze me.

I ordered a photobook from Walmart and spent a total dollar amount of $9.83. It was supposed to arrive November 27th, but due to circumstances beyond my friendly neighborhood Walmart's control, it was delayed by at least a week. I had considered ordering more books if I liked the result but I couldn't the wait, so I changed my mind. 

I didn't complain but others must have. Because Walmart has voluntarily refunded the full cost of my photobook, as well as the additional photos I ordered the same day (which were also gifts). Not only that, I have a $25.00 credit with Walmart Photo AND 100 free 4" X 6" prints!

A great deal of my Christmas-giving, were pictures which I printed off and mailed to family after our reunion. And Walmart happily refunded me all (or more) than I spent. Thank you, Walmart!!

Then came the daycare-dilemma of 2015.

I didn't actively advertise but I just updated my websites, with my upcoming daycare spots coming available.

I met with one family yesterday. They hired me before they walked out the door. I am (tentatively) meeting another family very soon (to start in the fall).

There is a sense of calm which has taken over my world. Instead of focusing on there being 'too many' daycares in 'too small' of an area, I have started to believe there is still an abundance of opportunities as long as I keep believing in myself, what I do and how I do it.

Then ... I found this article written by my favorite blog author:

http://momastery.com/blog/2015/01/07/hergoodnewsmakesyoufeelbad/

Beautiful = Full of Beauty

I have been feeling a little empty this week.

I wake up in the morning and it is pitch black outside. It is so very much easier waking up with the sun is shining in its glory, begging you to come out and play.

Is my ennui based on the declining hours of sun in our days? Surely to goodness, I hope not. Because we are still (just under) a month away from the point where our daylight hours equal our nighttime ones. It is going to be a long, long winter if that is the case.

I felt a quiet ache underneath my skin last night as I made my way through the hours before I slept.

Each and every thing that I forced myself to do last night came at a high cost. I knew thought I would feel lighter this morning if I did 'hard things' last night. I am not so sure that it worked.

Then, I wandered over to http://momastery.com/blog/. This morning Glennon is talking about beauty. It is beautiful (you can read about it for yourself here and here).

I cannot begin to describe 'beautiful' verses 'pretty' in the way that Glennon does. She is a master with words. But when she defined beautiful to her daughter, I was sitting right there with her, taking it all in.

"Beautiful means full of beauty" says Glennon Doyle Melton

Glennon took her daughter to the beach that day because she was feeling empty and wanted to fill herself up with beauty. 

I read those words and thought "That is exactly how I feel today". I need to look up and outside of myself, my world and my head and fill myself up.

Today I will:

• Sit on the floor and look at the world the way my daycare family sees it. 
• I will look into the eyes of the children that are mine for the day and hear what they are not saying.
• We will wander outside and take in all we can absorb. Bugs, birds, planes and clouds.
• I will dislodge myself from all electronic devices and keep my thoughts in the here and now (verses 'out there' in the Internet world).
• I will read when it is quiet.
• I will turn on music that makes me feel alive.
• If I feel the need to write, I will grab a pen and paper (like in the olden days).

I will do my best to do 'all of the above'.

Glennon describes 'pretty' as a way people look. She describes 'beauty' as a way people make others feel when they are around them. I have seen pictures of myself when I am absorbing and reflecting 'beauty' and Glennon is right. 'Beauty' transforms you. From the inside, out.

I found a picture of myself from our family reunion a month ago. My hair was long and my 'roots' needed attention. My shirt was disheveled and I was a bit of a mess. I have no idea if I took the time to put on make up that day. But it was that 'look' that made me think the picture was not awful. 

I was surrounded by family. I was filled with beauty. My sister had just 'done unto me, what our mom had done unto her' and I was filled with laughter and joy.

Suddenly it all makes sense to me now. The reason my Youngest Son tells me that I don't look any different with or without makeup or before and after a hair makeover. He sees what is inside of me, not my outer skin. Boy oh boy, there must be days when I am pretty ugly. But thankfully? There are days when I am not. 

When I see pictures of myself when I am enveloped in pure joy (family, friendship and dancing are the ones that come to mind) I see something in myself that, though it may not be pretty ... there may be an ounce of beauty within myself. When I am immersed in joyful, beautiful moments.

May you surround yourself in beauty today. It is amazing what is reflected back to you.

Stranger. Danger?

I took my little daycare family out for a walk Monday morning.

It was supposed to be a walk to the post office and back which normally takes in and around an hour to make the full circle. But we kept running into road blocks that barred our way.

"Post office closed for repairs. Sorry for the inconvenience" was the first sign that rerouted our day.

It was a beautiful morning and we didn't have to be anywhere at any specific time so I asked my little 2-1/2 year old if she was up for a long walk. She agreed and off we went, in search of Post Office #2.

We jigged and jagged and made our way off of a busy street, down residential streets and cut through a school ground.

"Can I climb the mountain?" she asked (our school grounds have many man-made mounds of dirt covered with grass and she calls them 'mountains'). I didn't have the stamina to push the double stroller filled with one-year-olds through the grass so we took a half-block detour to make our way to a paved path so that my little mountain climber could run and pick the beautiful yellow flowers.

Our little 'detour' added some extra steps and time onto our little adventure but how could I deny the request of my adventurous little walker? 

Eventually (about an hour after we had left the house) we made our way to the next post office. We were met with a sign that said: "Closed until 12:00. Sorry for the inconvenience". It was 11:30. My little daycare family was getting hungry and thirsty. 

I was feeling a little defeated. I had turned a mundane little task into an 'adventure' and we were getting 'Closed' signs thrown in our faces at each turn. 

I had not packed a picnic lunch (though the thought had crossed my mind before we walked out the door) so we backtracked a little ways and went shopping at the grocery store within the same strip mall that housed our post office. Eventually I settled on a cheese, meat and cracker Lunchable, with apple juice on the side. Not half bad for a make-do meal.

We settled in to enjoy our picnic in between two stores that provided us shade, a window ledge for my weary 'world traveller' (she was not complaining about walking but I just knew that her little legs needed a rest) and we made the best of the situation.

The minute you walk out the door with two small children in a double stroller, you tend to attract attention. My two little one-year-olds are three months apart in age but people always ask if they are twins (twin stroller = twin children). I usually have one or two more little ones hanging onto the side of the stroller, so people do tend to smile and greet us on a regular basis.

(Side note: I walked past a school that I once worked at and I recognized one of the staff as she was outside on supervision. Granted, I only worked there two months and I would imagine that secretaries roll in and out of that location like erratically scheduled freight trains, so she probably didn't recognize me. But she beamed the smile that helped me through many-a-day at that particular school and said, "HI, KIDS!!", punctuating the fact that it is the kids that are the main attraction).

Back to my story:

People often make a little comment about my little daycare family and quickly move on. That particular day, a gentleman with a walker and a slur that made his English very hard to decipher hovered close to us. Eventually, I made out the words "... are sweet". 

We were in an area that attracts all kinds of people and I have to admit that I was leary of this man. When you are walking about with other people's children your defences run high but I really, really wanted this man to move on. And he did. I quietly nodded and smiled at his comment but I did not encourage conversation.

We ended up passing him once again enroute to our post office (which was now open and had a very long and slow moving line). Once again, I nodded my acknowledgement to him as we walked by.

I couldn't help but think of this man as a person. I assumed many things due to the area of the city we were in, his slur, the way he lingered and his nationality. As I waited in line to mail my parcel, I wondered "What would Glennon do?" (click on Glennon's name to read a post that further accentuates my point)

This man is a person. Possibly lonely. Maybe he has had a stroke (thus, the walker and the slur). He most definitely has 'a story'. 

I humanized this gentleman as time gave me the opportunity to take off his label and wonder. I am setting an example for the children in my care, so the way that I treat people makes more impact than I will ever really know. Yet, it is equally important to treat people-you-don't-know with a manner that does not encourage 'crossing a line' (we came home, turned on our music and Patty Shukla sang the song "Stranger Danger" to me).

As we passed this man the third time (when we were finally making our way home), he asked for a dollar. By this time, I had removed the label and simply saw 'the man inside'. Perhaps he was begging for money so that he could buy his next bottle of liquor. Maybe he needed lunch just as my young family did. Who knows where that dollar would go? It was not my place to judge. I gave him a dollar.

I got home and wondered if I did the right thing.

I took the label off of a man and humanized him in my mind. I was cordial but distant as he hovered in the company of the children I was tending. I was polite and courteous. But distant. And I gave him a dollar.

What message did I give my children (oh, those children are such big sponges)? Children naturally trust everyone. People do tend to notice, make eye contact and talk with children. I always act as a 'buffer' between the adults we meet along our way and my borrowed children. 

Outwardly, I treated this man no differently than I treat anyone else who acknowledges us. No prejudice. Inwardly, I cowered. He was scary to me. Kids are sensitive. They pick up on these things. 

Did I do the right thing? Courteous and treating everyone the same is good. A little bit of natural fear and apprehension towards strangers is instinctive and right. This man did absolutely nothing that I could construe as wrong. He passed by us as we stood still. Once. We passed by him as he stood still. Twice. Had he followed us, that would have been a whole different story.

If I was that man, would I be hurt by the way I treated him? No. Would I understand that women are protective of their children? Yes. How would I feel after our fleeting encounters? I would feel validated as a person. I would be relieved that I didn't get the cold shoulder. I would be okay.

I think I did what was right for me, for my children and even for this man. 

Inhaling

Yesterday was a day of 'high output'. I spent a lot of my words talking. To adults. Throughout the 'quiet time' of our Daycare Morning and all evening. I talked.

This morning ... I read. Quietly. Alone. I found inspiration at every turn.

Glennon at Momastery.com wrote of the lesson she learned at the end of a very hard year (click here: "The Music is Louder Than the Crying").

Chrissy at "Life With Greyson and Parker" reminded me that the lessons we have to about perspective (click here: "Great Unexpectations").

Anna over at "An Inch of Gray" sent me over to read this post about the Christmas Story as you have never heard it.

I can't top that. I can't even comment because these writers say it so eloquently and tie it all up at the end with a neat little bow.

I'm just breathing in the morning. Follow the links on this page to take you on the journey that I have travelled this morning.

Tomorrow ... I am going to 'exhale'.

I am Not Alone

I have come across some blog authors that truly strike a chord with me. They write. I feel. They may be dealing with life circumstances that appear to be polar opposite to the hand which I was dealt ... but they write in a way that encompasses the world around them and draws you in.

Despite outward appearances, aren't we all in the same boat? Each and every one of us have been dealt a different 'hand' in life but the way we digest, internalize and cope with life's challenges unite us. Because we are all fighting our own battle.

Everyone has a story. We may feel alone and lonely ... until we listen to someone else's back story. Whenever we have one of those 'knee shaking' conversations (where we are 'real' with each other ... where pretenses are lost and you find yourself thinking "I am not the only one...") it opens the door and casts light upon that which we are aching to heal.

This week, I have been fighting to keep my head above water. It is not a intense struggle. I am simply treading water when I would rather not even be in the pool. I'm not drowning but I'm not comfortable either. It has been taking an extraordinary amount of energy to accomplish the ordinary tasks that each day brings. I feel like I am teetering on an edge that could easily go either way if I let go. So I'm hanging on ...

I don't know if it is a matter of seeing what I need to read, when I need to read it ... or if the world has spun into a different orbit and has disoriented a good portion of the population of the authors that I am reading. But it seems to me, that I am not alone in my struggle. And reading how others are dealing with the same emotions (differing in intensity ... but the underlying cause is so relatable to me) reassures me. I am not alone ...

Our ability to cope with what we are dealt comes in ebbs and flows. When you are at the top of your game and life throws you a curve ball, you take a swing at it with all that you've got and you feel that the only way you can lose is if you don't try. When you are sitting on the bench and called out to play when you would rather be cowering in a corner, you don't feel capable of 'hitting that ball' no matter how it comes at you.

This morning, I read the words "WHAT AM I GOING TO DO???" as a blog author wrote of her reaction to a kink in their summer schedule. Those simple words put me right smack dab inside of her shoes. I've been there. The anxiety, worry and over reaction to some of life's 'small stuff' when you aren't at the top of your game. I hate when it happens. But it does. I am not alone.

Then I read the words "I just wanted to tell you that I don’t talk about it (depression) either. Especially not when I’m in it" as another author wrote of the depression that she is fighting her way through. Oh, man. I get that too. Especially when it comes to those in your world who want to 'fix' you. No. I don't need to be fixed. I need to wade through this. In my own way. In my own time. I've done this before and I'll do this again. Each time I learn something that I need to know (but as this author writes ... I simply 'forget' what that magic formula was when I'm knee deep in coping). I am not alone ...

Other authors are writing through various challenges, emotions and internal battles. My life is easy compared to others. But sometimes? It simply feels harder than it needs to feel. It is simply comforting to know that I am not alone ...

On a cheerier note, my days as a daycare provider have been bringing light into my world. My new family started yesterday and it simply could not have gone better. I want to be like a two-year-old. My two little girls welcomed their new friend into their world like they have known each other forever. A little family of three moved across an ocean to bring them 'exactly to this spot' ... their little girl has found a kinship among friends in a heartbeat.

Envelop those in your world the way a two-year-old does. Don't hold back. Open the door and let life walk in. Chances are, that the person on the other side of that door needs your friendship just as much as you need theirs.

Remember ... we are not alone.

The Train Wreck Theory (as I know it)

One of the blogs that I follow recently had an article published where the author of the blog talked about the high amount of traffic her blog received after her son was hospitalized. She spoke (respectfully and kindly) of how it is simply human nature for people to stop and look when they see a tragedy but she assumed that her readership would drop off as her reflections on her blog returned to her day-to-day meanderings.

As I read the words, I couldn't help but think of the blogs that I follow. Half of the them involve loss. 

So yes. I too, have succumbed to allure of the typical 'train wreck' observer. I have seen (read about) tragedies and I simply can't look away. Why? But more importantly, why am I still following these blogs four years after the loss? It is because of my dad ...

Dad suffered a massive heart attack and after fifteen minutes without oxygen to his brain, he was revived. If you had read about it in a newspaper, you would have walked away thinking that it was a miracle that he survived. If you were the person that was involved in saving his life, you may walk away feeling like a hero. If only that was the end of the story.

Dad's body survived. Yes. But we lost everything else that he was that fateful night. He continued to breathe for four years and eight months longer. He was hospitalized for the rest of his life. My mom was still married but she lost her husband. There was an entire story that followed that 'train wreck' of our lives.

Surviving loss comes in so very many forms. Death is final and there is no going back. There are so many more ways to lose a loved one. Debilitating health issues change a person and their relationships. Bankruptcy, job loss, retirement and/or career change. Divorce. Family dynamics may break down and you 'lose' a family member that is still living and breathing a life separate and apart from your own ...

'Train wrecks' derail our lives. But life goes on. What can be salvaged is put back onto the railroad tracks and carries on for the rest of its natural life.

My attention is drawn to those that survive and must carry on with some semblance of 'normal' in a what has now become a completely 'abnormal' life. I have learned so much from those brutally honest authors. I sit back on the sidelines and quietly cheer them onwards.

I may not be able to avert my eyes from the tragedy ... but it is the story of survival after the unthinkable happens that keeps me coming back. It is the story of the survivors that is what is most important after the fact.

It isn't about 'survival of the fittest' for me. It is about the 'survival of the survivors' ...

Climbing the Mountain of Life

This morning's commitment was delayed by one hour. One hour is such a gift when it comes out of the blue.

Instead of frantically trying to squeeze in all-that-I-could-do before 8:00 a.m., I have taken my time and let the morning take me wherever I ended up going.

My voyage began with a cup of coffee and the habit of checking out the blogs that I follow to see if anyone had any new updates to read.

I started at the top of my list. 'Anna' didn't have any new updates so I reread her last post, only to discover what I missed the first time that I read it. She had written a 'guest post' over at 'Momastery.com' ... which led me to another post written by another blog author.

I read the post "2011 Lesson #2 : Don’t Carpe Diem" ...

It was a post that was written over a year ago. I could have read the words at any point in time and appreciated them. But reading them this morning? When I was feeling just a tad regretful over the week that I just 'spent'? It was Divine timing.

I was an imperfect daycare provider last week. I did not live in the moment. I got frustrated. I want the kids to learn to play independently, use their imaginations, learn strategies to get along and have fun with each other. I do everything in my power to encourage all of the above. Yet last week, I was impatient. I am working with one & two year olds for heavens sake!

At the end of the week, I looked back and all I saw was my imperfections. I didn't seize the day. I did my best to seize the moments along the way, but did I savor last week's voyage? Not in the way I expect of myself.

Then I read this post "Don't Carpe Diem" ... and at the end I gave myself permission to be imperfect in my role as a daycare provider. It is like climbing Mount Everest. Every moment, of every day ... do I want to shout to the world "I love being a daycare provider!!"? No. But at the end of my voyage, and even at the end of my days, weeks and years ... I do want to say "I love having been a daycare provider".

I want to take enough moments within each day to seize that moment in time so that the children I watch over feel a sense of me liking what I do. Maybe not every moment of every day. But I want them to know that I do love what I do and savor the good moments wherever we find them so that they can carry that forward with them throughout their lives.

As I climb this mountain called 'life', I hope to tether myself to safe and secure spots along the way ... so that if I fall (and I inevitably will), I do not want to take anyone with me.

Why I Get Lost in the Blogosphere

I have my little routines that I follow every morning. I make my morning smoothie (as I have done almost every morning for the past nine years). I make some coffee. Then I sit down at the computer.

I have a long list of favorite blogs that I follow each morning. Some of them come and go. Most stay. I find a few more gems to add to the list along the way. I like the way these real-life-people in real-life-circumstances make me think.

Some have survived unthinkable tragedies in their lives. They are hero's to me in some fashion. Strength through adversity. A quick wit. Interesting writers. Most of all ... they open my eyes to the undercurrents that are going on within everyone I meet.

I have gained an empathy for those going through things that I have never experienced.

There is a heightened realization that everyone has a story. You just doesn't know what another person's story is. Whether it is a friend, a stranger or someone you think you know. There is much more going on underneath the surface.

I look around me and I am continually reminded how fortunate that I am. I live a quiet existence, with little to no drama. My little world ... our home ... is an oasis. No matter what is going on in the real world, I come home and I'm strengthened by what I feel inside of our walls.

I usually walk away from my morning visit with my favorite blogs, with a renewed sensitivity. I face the day knowing that I will be crossing paths with many people who have their own 'story' playing in the background of their day.

I start my day with quiet reflections.

These are a few of the thought provoking sentences that I came across this morning:

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” – Norman Cousins

"If you had your life to live over again, would you change any of it?"

I thought this morning's blog would be based on one of these topics. The statements I stumble across inspire many of my own stories.

But instead, I thought I'd pay tribute to the every-day-people who impact my day. Without knowing it, these bloggers have made me stop and reflect ...

Everyone Has a Story

Once again, I have spent my morning reading other people's blogs. Why am I so drawn to these people that I don't even know?

There are many reasons ... one of them being, that I am quietly cheering them on from my own corner of the world. But another, is that I am in awe of their ability to put the words to what so many others are going through.

These people will never know the full extent of how their honesty and ability to communicate it has touched, encouraged and validated so many others.

The written word is very powerful.

Some people have a magical way of putting their words together, telling their story and getting their point across eloquently.

Some people don't have the capacity to put their feelings into words but can feel everything that another has written about, in the context of their own life.

Some people try to put their words to paper, but the intent is garbled. There appears to be a disconnection between the honest emotion that they are trying to express, and the actual words that come out. Unfortunately, they read their own words as they felt them and aren't aware that the intent of their message didn't make it to the written word.

Then again ... there are others, who write words in judgement. Maybe they are from the group that are trying to write one thing and say another. Maybe they are insensitive to the pain their words will inflict. Maybe that is their 'language' and it is simply the way that they communicate.

In any case ... words, once spoken or written (and shared) can't be taken back.

Everyone has a story. It is impossible to know what lies hidden underneath the layers of a person that you encounter. Well meaning words can sometimes inflict an enormous amount of pain because you simply don't know their story.

As I read of the pain that these young mothers are coping with ... I wonder if I too, could innocently make a remark that hits a nerve or ask an insensitive question.

I sat and wondered what the safest words could be, when making light conversation with a person you really don't know. All I could come up with was:
Everyone has a story ... there is more to a person than meets the eye.
Less, is more sometimes when it comes to words.

How many times does a simple comment that someone makes to me, result in an instant movie flashback of a time in my life that is triggered by those words? All of the time. I quite possibly have a novel for each of the times a 'trigger' has been hit.

My novels are pretty painless, as far as life goes. But there are so many survivors of so many tragedies of life, that unknowingly cross our paths every single day.

Remembering that every one's story isn't blazing across their forehead in neon lights should make me gentle with my words and sensitive to the scars that don't show.

A Reason, A Season and A Lifetime

An often forwarded email that talks of the people that cross through your life's path, came to mind this morning as I was thinking of the 'heroes' in some of the blogs that I have been following lately ...

It all started with an Oprah episode when I heard Matt Logelin's story. I was in awe of the strength that it took for him to carry on after the loss of his wife (she died unexpectedly within a day of their daughter being born). His blog chronicles their story before the birth of their daughter and the 15 months (to date) afterwards.

Then, through reading Matt's blog, I found another story of the loss of 'Maddy'. Maddy was born 11 weeks premature, spent 68 days in the neonatal unit and although her prematurity left her lungs scarred, she made a vibrant imprint on everyone she touched in her world. She died unexpectedly this past April, just short of reaching her 17 month birthday. Her parent's survival story and the glorious moments of Maddy's life are all chronicled in their blogs. It is such a tribute to their daughter, to read these precious words.

Through Maddy's story, I clicked on another blog - Maddy's mother's 'partner in suck'. Gorillabuns is another story of loss. This blog is written very honestly and to the point. This mom is hurting beyond words and she doesn't censor her thoughts. Her 3 1/2 month old son died unexpectedly. There was little explanation or understanding of why he died - but the 'official' cause of death from the Medical Examiner was "unknown cause by a combination of Bronchitis and positioning of the body."

As I have been quietly and anonymously following the lives of these families, I have questioned why I am so wrapped up in the lives of people that I don't even know.

I believe much has to do with the reality that life is precious. A person's life can change in a heart beat and it is totally out of our control. Even in the chaos of every day living and all the frustrations of parenting and living ... there are small blessings. We just never know when life as we know it may change.

I work with children all day, every day. Their parents are young and many families are 'expanding' before my very eyes. Every pregnancy is a blessing and there are always risks involved. No one is immune to loss or the fear of losing what is precious. Reading the blogs of these young parents keeps me sensitive and 'young' enough to appreciate what the parents I work for, are going through.

Every day heroes inspire me. It takes a lot of courage to face the day no matter who you are. Some of us have higher mountains to climb. I read how these parents are facing their own personal 'mountain' and my heart goes out to them. I can feel their pain, mourn their loss, cherish the stories they tell and I silently cheer them on to the next day.

The risk of blogging one's thoughts is that you are putting your words out for the 'world' to see. As I scan through the many comments that are made on these various blog posts, it warms my heart to read the support, love and empathetic words of comfort from the hundreds of comments that are made to these parents.

This morning, I read a comment on one of these blogs that must have cut to the quick of the mother who wrote the blog. This mother writes what she feels and her words are raw with the pain that she is feeling. As I feel the impact her words make on me, I am glad that she is finding an outlet for her grief. She is being honest. She is hurting beyond anything that I can even imagine. I don't know how many positive words it will take, to offset that one negative comment, 'judging' her.

It is from that comment and this mother's reaction to it, that I found myself full of words this morning about these families. And my words to these parents are this:

There is a reason that the one you have lost, came into your life. You learned so much from this loved one, you laughed, you loved, you cherished and they brought you to life. Your life will never be the same because of this person. They are forever imprinted in your heart and your memory.

They remained in your life for only a season. You lost them far too soon. Your life with them was just beginning. The best was yet to come. But ... you made the most of the time you had. You wrote about them, you photographed them, you made memories together. As the pain begins to ebb, the memories will remain.

You will keep their memory in your heart for your lifetime. A song, a place, a smell, an anniversary, an event and others that touch your life will continue to twig those memories forever. As time goes on, so will the memories. You will keep on living ... and so will the one you loved. Forever in your heart.

How can I even begin to understand the pain and the grieving process when I haven't personally experienced it? I can't. But through the words written by these survivors, I am learning lessons that I will have to put to use. One day.

Until that day, I shall remember just how precious life is. I will make memories and I will document them so that as time elapses and the memory fades, I will have those memories close by. In my heart forever.

A Lesson in Perspective

I've been a little off my game lately. Letting little things get under my skin and irritate me ... probably because I haven't had anything more important to worry about.

This week, I've had some gentle reminders to put my little worries into perspective. There are people all around me that are facing tremendous challenges in their personal lives and taking it all in stride. Handling crisis's heroically and facing up to what must be faced.

As if I don't know of enough of these 'heroes' personally, I have been seeking them out (as I continue to follow the blogs of the 2 families that I mentioned in my 'Heroism Among the Tears' blog last week). I seem to be drawn to these people as they write their way through the pain. I am an anonymous voyeur into their lives as I empathize with their situation and am inspired by their courage.

Yet ... I am at arms length to the people in my own life. It is time to 'reach out and touch someone' that I know. It's time to let the petty annoyances in my life sit on a back burner where they belong and prioritize where I spend my energy.

It is time to put the small stuff into perspective.