Wisps of Hope

Something has shifted in my list of priorities. Gazing out our living room watching, waiting and hoping to spot one of our neighbor rabbits hop by has fallen by the wayside.

I open the blinds and sometimes forget to scour the streets to see if I can spot a rabbit hiding in plain sight. I miss the snow and evidence of their presence when I'm not looking, by finding rabbit tracks in the snow.

I wonder about the fate of our neighborhood rabbits. Are they still around? Has something killed them off or scared them away? Why haven't I spotted a rabbit for so long? 

I walked to the mailbox to mail a letter this morning, when what to my wondering eyes should appear? But a rabbit!!

This little rabbit did not run off and hide. Instead, it kept about one house ahead of me until it finally veered off in the opposite direction.

My faith was restored. I smiled a little smile and my heart was happy.

Then I came home and look what I spotted in our front yard. 

Five "white patches" (just the size of a rabbit perhaps?)

Could it be?? Could rabbits be hanging out and shedding the last of their winter white fur coat? 

Or ... are these spider webs? 

I choose to believe it is rabbits, leaving evidence of their presence in the only way they can without snow.

Wisps of hope are all around. 

Stop and hope and wonder.

Wish for impossible things.

Take time to appreciate the small stuff.

It's worth it. 

I Can't Hear Myself Think

I have become everything I never wanted to be. 

Unmotivated, uninspired ... put the prefix "un" in front of all the things I ever aspired to become and that is the gist of my overall feeling of unrest.

Writing has saved me from myself time and time again. Yet I cannot seem to find the words to put to page the way I used to. It doesn't matter if I write uncensored thoughts just for myself, words here on my blog to force myself to be accountable, reply to an email or respond to a text. Words do not come easily.

TOO MANY WORDS are a requirement for living these days.

I woke up feeling my feelings very deeply one recent morning. They were so deep and so heavy. I did one right thing. I did NOT turn on the TV or computer to numb myself out of what I was feeling. I simply allowed myself to feel my feelings and let myself sink into the abyss.

I did cheat. I sent off a few messages which resulted in hearing the words I most needed to hear which was followed up with a conversation with someone who has known me long enough to know who I truly am and likes me anyway, which allowed me to say the words I was feeling out loud .

Days have unfolded since then and as I look at what brought me to my knees that particular morning, it feels like a non-event. I have resumed life-as-I-know-it and the heaviness I felt in that moment has lifted. 

If I hadn't let myself succumb to those emotions at the time, I would have forgotten the entire incident. Enter the addiction of the new world. Numbing. Tuning out one's thoughts and losing them to one's addiction of choice. Food, alcohol, scrolling, drugs, Netflix and any number of mind numbing activities you can think of.

Back in the "old days", I would take a morning such as the one I just described and I would have done one of a number of things. I would have cleaned, gone outside or wrote. Whatever activity I may have chose, I would have sunk into my thoughts and listened to myself. In a reflective, healing and cathartic way.

Whether I walked, worked, sat in a sun beam or toiled at some menial household task, I would have let myself THINK.

I have stopped thinking. 

I miss my thoughts. I miss my old self. I miss the light that follows the darkness.

I just read that a person needs three things be happy. Someone to love. Something to do. Something to hope for.

As the thought of my children moving out and on with their lives in distant locations; followed by the "knowing" I have that my employment relies heavily on people who are well into their 80's; and the loss of a dream on the horizon ... I am not looking too far into the future right now.

Something to hope for.

Seems like a small step in a positive direction. Hope. Faith. Trust that "we are exactly where we are meant to be" ...

Everything is going to be okay. Things always works out. I have faith in what I don't yet know. It will all be okay.

It will all work out in the end. If it hasn't worked out, it is not yet the end. 

The Shortest Day and the Brightest Star

Today marks the shortest day of, what many may consider, the longest year. To mark the occasion, Jupiter and Saturn will appear "as one" in the night sky. [I have read to look into the sky, toward the southwest about a half hour after sun set]

I find comfort in looking upwards on any given day but this day sounds momentous. It is said this event will not occur until May, 2080 and the last time it took place was about 400 years ago.

For this to happen so close to Christmas Day during a year of global upheaval seems almost ... biblical.

As we officially mark the beginning of winter on the darkest day of a particularly dark year, our days will now start to get longer. 

There is hope on the horizon. Winter is always followed by spring. A vaccination is on its way. It is always darkest before dawn.

There are untold amounts of people who have been tragically affected by the virus we call COVID-19 ... let there be light. Please. Let there be lightness that follows the heaviness of events past. 

Hope Springs Eternal

I'm a bit of a dreamer. 

I like to think I'm an optimistic thinker. 

Gratitude is my daily prayer. 

Faith is simply my belief that (one way or another), things will work out. 

Some how. 

Some way. 

The sun always rises. 

We get a new chance every day. 

Even when we don't want it. 

The sun keeps shining through the closed blinds 

as if to beckon us out of whatever moment we are in 

and invite us to open the blinds to behold the wonder of life.

I had a very quiet weekend.

I love quietness.

I took one day to do all the hard things.

I washed my hair.

I vacuumed.

I washed a load of "whites".

I washed the shower curtain.

I wrote a blog.

I replied to an email.

Then I rested.

I woke up yesterday to a fresh new day.

All the hard things had been done.

A clean slate.

I knew exactly what I wanted to write on that slate.

I wanted to work.

And I did.

I put in a productive day.

I did hard things.

Then I rested.

I slept in this morning.

I missed the early morning dawn when I normally spot our neighborhood rabbits.

I know for a fact we have three rabbits.

I suspect we have four.

One morning, I saw one rabbit. 

I dubbed this rabbit "Loner",

because there always seems to be one rabbit who is set apart from the rest.

Loner hopped out of sight.

I waited.

I wondered if "The Twins" would appear.

We have a set of rabbits who seem to travel together.

When you see one, the other is usually in sight.

Then there is "A Third" who sometimes joins them.

Sometimes not.

I waited only a few moments.

I was rewarded with the appearance of "The Twins", 

soon followed by "The Third".

Yes,

"I think we have four rabbits",
I told my son who is tiring of my rabbit tales.

I thought I had no hope of spotting a rabbit at this morning's late hour.

I opened the blinds.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear ...

but FOUR rabbits!

Now, my question is:

"Do we have four rabbits?

(the Loner, Twins & a Third) ...

or do we have eight rabbits??

The only other time I spotted four rabbits at the same time

is when they hopped in from the south 

and joined the Twins & a Third (Loner had already taken off to the west).

Four rabbits at one sighting.

In the daylight.

So I could document the moment.

I felt like this morning's rabbit sighting was a reward.

A pat on the back for doing the hard things this weekend past.

A nod of approval that sleeping in is okay.

A sign that just because we don't see something doesn't mean it isn't there.

And a definite sign of spring!

The rabbits are shedding their winter coats,

the snow is melting,

daylight is exceeding moonlight,

and it is (finally) warming up.

The sun rises every morning.

Spring is guaranteed to follow winter.

Eventually.

It sometimes feels there is little we know to be true these days.

We don't know how long before we can reignite our social lives and our economy

as this COVID-19 pandemic rules the world.

We don't know the lasting impact this will have.

We don't know who will be infected.

We have no idea how this virus could infiltrate our lives.

Just keep waking up.

Open the blinds and gaze outside.

Do one of the hard things you didn't do yesterday. 

Or not.

You can do hard things tomorrow too.

Rest.

Always rest.

Be grateful for the smallest of things.

Prepare to be amazed.

Marvel at the world around you and dare to wonder ...

This morning

I am wondering

do we just have four rabbits in our midst,

or eight?

Either way,

With spring, comes baby rabbits.

Hope springs eternal.

Hopeful

It is a little late in the year to be forming the traditional resolutions and mind sets one hears so much about as one calendar year folds into the next. But I very much like the way this word rolls off my tongue, into my vocabulary and seeps into my thoughts. I want to incorporate this word into my world in an every day kind of way. The word is "hopeful".

Hopeful is a word which is based what is possible while keeping in mind some probable outcomes. It is a word that meshes faith with reality.

Hopeful is an optimistic stance to take on any situation. Whether it is waiting on or dealing with a health diagnosis ... anticipation or dread over an upcoming appointment  ... to simply the way a day will unfold.

To be hopeful is to expect nothing but hope for the best.

Credo: from Mom's little book of notes

I want to step into each day filled with hope for best possible outcomes and the stamina to roll with any obstacles I may find along the way.

I feel hopeful today. I hope the same for you. No matter what life is throwing your way.

Peaceful Easy Feeling

I am stepping into the day with a "peaceful easy feeling" ...

The melody to the song the Eagles made famous wafted through my mind. I mindlessly looked up the lyrics to see if there was more to the music than the melody. And there was.

" 'Cause I got a peaceful easy feelin'

And I know you won't let me down

'Cause I'm already standin'

On the ground "

~ Songwriter Jack Tempchin ~

These lyrics speak loudly to the way I feel about life as I know it.

I listen to the world around me, those who stand on their platforms and spew negativity, those who skew the truths of the world around them and focus on the negative and basically the words that cycle through my consciousness and plant seeds of doubt and infect my thoughts. 

I keep coming back to this "peaceful easy feeling". Others won't let me down. Because I'm already standing on the ground.

I feel grounded. I feel rooted in family, friends and community. I have faith that everything will work out okay. I feel safe, secure and happy within the world I live in. I'm already standing on the ground.

I hope to spread this feeling and infect others with this peaceful easy feeling. It is one small way I hope to make a mark within this world I live in.

May the ground beneath your feet feel solid, safe and comforting. May you have a peaceful, easy day.

Remembering ...

Seven years ago today, I was savoring the vacation of a lifetime. I was cruising up the Alaskan coast with a friend I've known ever since I have a memory, en route to meet up with the first best friend I made after our family moved to Edmonton when I was nine years old.

I just spent the past hour or so rereading the blog posts I wrote while I was livin' the dream.If you click "here", it will take you back to May, 2011 and you can reminisce with me for a while ...

Wow. My life has gone through a lot of transitions since then.

As I write those words, I am reminded of the journey my career path took after I returned home from that cruise.

I look around me and remind myself that I still live in the same home but different cats adorn it.

I think of family connections and how much stronger they feel.

As I think back on those seven years, I remember those who have passed during that time. So many of those who were an integral part of my memories, who shared their stories with me so we could assemble them onto the pages of our family history books. I am so very grateful for each and every memory I made.

My relationships within my own little family unit ebb and flow, which is to be expected as each of my children become more of who they are. I hope we will grow closer despite the distance created by our individual growth spurts.

I remember who I used to be, who I became, who I lost and as I reflect on those years, I am starting to feel the stirring of life within me again.

I kind of like the sound of the girl who wrote those posts back in May of 2011. She was a girl who was living the dream. She was looking up, making memories, appreciating the moment and dreaming big.

I remember how my sense of security about the future was shattered when Mom had a health scare in the months that preceded that Alaskan cruise. My senses were heightened after that. I was gently reminded how precious life is. Mom and I made a lot of memories between then and now. I'm so grateful for each and every one of them.

Life was full of ups, downs, in betweens, transitions, living and loss these past seven years. I am grateful for the ability to look back and reread the words I wrote when I was walking that path. I am reminded that throughout the low times, there was a sense of hopefulness and gratitude that prevailed.

I wonder where life will take me the next seven years. Wait! I really do not want to know the answer. One day at a time. Let hope and gratitude rule the day. Write, laugh and maybe dance. Let my actions be ruled by these thoughts and all things become possible.

No Definite Plans

It has been a week since I discovered my financially solvent life was briskly coming to an end. I've had a week for the news to sink in and take hold. A week to conspire and plan. A week to work myself into a frenzy. It has been a week and I am firm in my believe "this" is exactly where I want and need to be right now. This temporary lull with no defined outcome is a gift. The gift of being flexible.

I love that I have also been given the gift of stability for three months. Being committed to tending one child versus five feels easy breezy. I am tied to life as I know it for three more months. Life as I know it, without the stress I have been feeling looks and feels very comfortable to me. When I'm comfortable, I make better choices. The very fact that I'm able to look ahead and know I'm in a spot where "flexibility" is my new reality, I feel at peace.

As I cull my way through the excesses of our world, I am looking at the bigger picture. I'm trying to pull "myself" out of much of the space within our home. There is a deep, quiet knowing that I must make room for change. The process of emptying cupboards, closets and drawers is cathartic.

It has almost been 29 years since I moved my little family out here. We arrived with very little. Our first home was furnished with the bare necessities of living and our basement was empty. Our lives were upended within the course of a month and at the end of it all, we had the basics in place to start our new lives with a fresh, new slate.

I don't have a great desire to wipe my slate clean at this point of my life but getting back to the basics, purging the excess and a fresh new beginning with the stability of the life I have built to this point feels right. So very right.

Mom is at a place in her life where I simply want to be able to pack up on a moment's notice and "be there". Everything is fine. There is no need for concern right now. But I simply want to be able to say "I can be there, if you want me to be". I haven't been able to say that before.

There was a short period in my life when I couldn't have cared less what my employer thought. I just picked up and left with no notice and came back when it felt right to come home again. I did that once. I did the same thing during my last holiday. I knew that was what I wanted to create in my life. Room to pick up and leave on a moment's notice.

I am almost there. Three more months. In searching for someone who could move into my life while I move out yesterday, I wrote the words "I could be out by the new year. Just think about it ..." That suggestion came from a recent conversation where we each laid out a glimmer of what we were thinking may lie in our future. A conversation where we said, "I'm just thinking about this", like it was a far fetched dream. I thought of my dream and their dream and the possibility of how we could work together and make both a reality.

My early morning brain to fingertip connection was all lubricated yesterday morning when I laid out the possibility that maybe, just maybe we could work together to make a change within our lives, while each of us held onto the real estate we have adopted as part of "us" and part of our lifestyle. I thought of how I never in a million years would have thought of a collaborative effort if we hadn't had that conversation where each of us spoke the words out loud and said, "This is what I'm thinking about".

I truly believe we have to speak about what we want to bring about. When we say the words out loud, they hold more power to redefine our world than when we simply sit still with them and hold everything inside. The same can be said about the words which have the power to bring us to our knees and hold us down.

Say the words out loud to someone you trust. Give your hopes and your wishes some hope by speaking them aloud. Take the power of the demons of fear, shame, secrecy and embarrassment away by sharing them in some way. Write, speak, sing it out loud. By working together, by sharing that which brings us up and that which brings us down we can change our own little world. When we change the way we look, feel and live our lives we change those around us.

I absolutely love this place where I am at right now. This place of "no definite plans" is empowering me to believe I can go and do and be wherever I need and want to go. By not making definite plans, the world looks and feels entirely different. Because I am starting to feel empowered again, I am also starting to feel like I have something to give again. The life of holding onto everything I had, not wanting to share my time, myself or invite people in was confining me in ways I didn't even realize.

The ability to dream is life affirming. I've said it before and I'll say it again. When I stop dreaming and believing I have the power to turn my hopes into realities, I stop living. When I stop living, my world becomes far too small.

This temporary state of a life with "no definite plans" is exactly where I want to be. It will give me what I need to find out where I want to go next.

Crunching Numbers

The challenge is on. The moment I heard my daycare income was coming to a near halt three months earlier than anticipated, I felt like a squirrel who got caught off guard in the middle of summer. There he (the squirrel) was, merrily sitting back in the sun savoring the nuts he found, eating as he went along. Then POOF! The ice age hit and there he was, caught off guard with nothing stored for winter.

My bank account is akin to an empty storage bin. In fact, I borrowed a few too many "nuts" as I was busy living the past several summers of my life. So not only do I not have any nuts saved for winter, but I still owe Tom, Dick and Harry for all the nuts I borrowed to get me through the past several winters.

Yes, I have a good solid home to weather the seasons. There is plenty amassed within these four walls of ours (plus the four walls within the garage and playhouse as well), so even though my "nut gathering" habits have not been good ones, we won't be out in the cold or hungry. Not for a while anyway.

I started selling off the excess within a few weeks prior to finding out winter was coming early in my neck of the woods, budget wise. But when I found out the bulk of my income sources were going to be done by the end of the month, I stopped all spending immediately. Where do I go from here?

You can bet your bottom dollar that my desire to sell the excess within, is fuelled by need now. I still don't want to have to dip into these "rainy day funds" (in my deluded mind, I thought this could go towards a little holiday one day in the distant future).

My first thought is that I will need to dip into my pension after all. No matter what way I look at it, I need to pull from future income in order to pay today's bills. There is simply no other way. Those "nuts" that I was forced to save while I was part of the work force with benefits are proving to be vital to my well being at the moment. But in the idle chatter that never stops going on within the back of my mind are the words, "What can you do? What do you want to do now? What are you good at doing?" There must be a value to some of my talents, sparse as they may be. How can I make our house work for us?

Is it feasible to rent out the main floor? If each floor was ready to live independently on its own without sharing kitchen, bathroom and laundry facilities at this very moment, it would be a very viable plan. But spending money to make money right now doesn't sound like a wise idea.

What marketable skills do I have? My idea of wanting to be "the person Mom needs" - someone who could be available to take someone to a doctor's appointment, pick up groceries, drive them to the mall, tend to the house and yard and simply be a "Daughter for Hire" is something that keeps coming to mind when the house is quiet and I am still with my thoughts.

There has to be a way. There has to be. If I don't force it. If I simply let it come, the answer is within. At least I hope it is.

I'm pinning my future on an awful lot of hope and faith right now. I hope it is enough.

A Minor Crisis of Epic Proportions

I can feel it with every fibre of my being this morning. I'm starting to rise again. This has been a long time coming. It is my hope that the harder one has to work, the longer one has to wait and the more desperate one becomes before a change, the longer the transformation will last.

I knew this. I knew I was having my "on the floor" moment, minus the crisis. There was no drama, no fanfare nor any one catalyst that drew attention to the fact that I was losing the battle. It was quiet, undramatic and invisible to the naked eye. I was undergoing a minor crisis of epic proportions and the way it presented itself to me was a low grade depression I could not kick, with a side order of annoying little pains and topped off with an optic migraine.

I have never had a migraine headache so I was completely unaware of the optical symptoms which accompany it. My eyes simply went weird on me and it scared my socks off. My over imaginative brain had all sorts of ideas going on inside of it, from something sitting on my optic nerve, to a brain aneurysm, to a tumor, to simply a detached retina. Thankfully it was none of the above. It was a migraine headache without the pain.

Pain without a cause seems to be the common denominator within several of my recent symptoms. A sore wrist turned into a sore thumb when I went for physical therapy to cure a pain that may or may not have existed in the first place (I'm certain it existed otherwise my imagination is taking over my reality and that is too frightening to consider). I told the therapist I had a sore wrist and he "ruined" my thumb on his assumption (or my miscommunication skills) that it was related. On a positive note, my thumb pain has exceeded my wrist pain so I guess that is something. I have yet to recover from one session of physical therapy. This happened the last time went to that very office. The cure was worse than the symptom. Which makes me wonder if I was really feeling physical pain to begin with, or if this was all in my head. The opposite of my painless migraine.

Last week, it was a toothache which woke me up in the middle of the night and lasted for four days. Obviously I was not imagining this because I couldn't eat or place any pressure on that side of my mouth. So I booked an early morning emergency dental appointment to fix whatever was going wrong because I didn't have time to go twice, for something I needed fixed immediately. What happened instead, was they took an X-ray and there was no physical reason for my toothache. The dentist's best guess is that I injured a ligament in  my tooth and only time would heal it. Or else the nerve was dying and a root canal would become necessary eventually. But for that day, there was physically no reason for my pain and nothing he could do to fix it.

What the heck? I came home and wondered if I have reached the age where doctors look at you and decide you aren't worth fixing any more or if I was simply imagining things. This morning, I started thinking of my invisible "rock bottom moment" without a defined crisis to warrant the event and I started to wonder if these physical symptoms without a cause was related. The pain was real in both cases (physically and mentally) but there was no excuse for it.

Hmmm.

I walked into my doctor's office for my annual physical check-up days after my "ocular migraine" feeling absolutely defeated. I felt mentally and physically spent. I didn't know what to do. I was stuck at a crossroad and it looked like a dead end. I wasn't in pain but I was (or must have been) displaying symptoms of arthritis so she offered me a perscription for "Cymbalta".  which treats depression, with the added benefit of alleviating chronic pain disorders such as arthritis. The idea of taking a pill which would fix all that ailed me sounded like the best and easiest way out. I had been trying to dig myself out of the pit I had fallen into for the better part of a year. On my own, I couldn't get a strong foothold before I fell back, with every forward step. "Sign me up!" was all I could think in that very moment. She also suggested taking some arthritic painkillers to help with the no-grade pain that was causing me to slow down.

I felt euphoric when I walked out of that office, thinking I had found my solution. Call it cosmic timing, call it what you may but within a day of that event, I went out to Mom's after she broke her wrist and was dealing with physical pain with a very real and defined cause. All I could think after I returned home from my visit was her insistence that she didn't want to become reliant or addicted to any pain medication. "You feel pain for a reason" was her logic. We countered with the argument "Why feel pain if you don't have to?"

"Why feel pain if you don't have to?" The words haunted me. I stopped taking the arthritic pain killers immediately and a few weeks later, I called my doctor and told her I want to stop taking the Cymbalta. It was after I was weaned off of that medication when my tooth started to ache (well, it was also after I ate some popcorn, so I really thought my toothache was popcorn related). It was after I was told there was no reason for my tooth to ache when I truly started to question what was going on with "me".

Then I listened to another one of Glennon Melton Doyle's podcasts this morning and she talked about "rock bottom moments" and the need to not only FEEL your pain but she has actually found herself running towards it "because that's where the good stuff is" (she writes about it here: http://momastery.com/blog/2015/04/21/pain-mistake/).

I looked back on my "rock bottom moments", the moments when life brought me to my knees and YES! I totally agree and have always said (even before I knew Glennon so well) that these were the moments that changed me, rerouted my life and took me where I needed to go. Pregnant and unmarried at the age of 17, then divorced by age 18; uprooting my life and my family with little more than the clothes on my back at age 27; single and pregnant (again) at the age of 37; alone and broken hearted (after what I KNEW was going to be the relationship which I would last for the rest of my life time) at the age of 46. THESE were all of my "fall to the floor broken, broken hearted" moments that defined me and changed my life. These were awful in the moment but took me to the very best of places.

Then came the more subtle "rock bottom moments". A stream of bad work experiences outside of my home brought me back "home again". I reopened my daycare. I was still broken and wounded. I had learned lessons but I didn't take those lessons and incorporate them into my life moving forward. I simply internalized them. I lived in an insulated world of safety and acceptance for four years. Then came this year. The year of "pain without a cause".

I had hit rock bottom and there was no evidence that I was there. There was no dramatic crash. It was quiet but just as painful. And it was lonely. Lonely because I did not invite anyone into the abyss. "Yes, I'm okay. I went through a tough spell but I learned a lot." I surrounded myself within my insulated world, worked for parents who appreciated and were (are) so very kind to me. Life was good. I had no reason to complain. Except for this low grade pain I couldn't make go away. Was this the reason my body was starting to hurt for no physical reason?

I started my holiday by listening to Glennon Doyle Melton at "The Beautiful Writers Podcast": https://soundcloud.com/user-780938996/martha-beck-glennon-melton-interview-ver-2-7-29-2016 and I knew. I just KNEW I had to close my daycare and take a chance on my future. I was willing to cash in on my pension to fund my transition but I knew it with the certainty that I had to end my marriage once and for all. I knew my life depended on it. I simply KNEW.

The decision to close my daycare has been made with grace, with four month's warning and lots of time for all of us to readjust. My daycare parents, as always, have been nothing but kind to me as I explained my need to close my doors.

In closing one door, I started talking again. By talking, another door opened. By opening up and not pretending I was okay living in discomfort, I found comfort. And the opportunity to earn an income during this transitional phase.

In order for new doors to open, we have to close other doors. Standing in the doorway with one foot in both places is not my way. I'm either "all in" or I'm "all out". I have to be out of one place before I'm ready to step into another.

I have faith in the future but I need to be honest with myself and "real" with the people who walk beside me as I take steps toward uncertainty. I don't need advise or guidance. I simply need to be honest. Every single time I have been honest, I hear honesty echoed back to me. This is the world I want and need to live in. I'm not exactly sure what it looks like right now. But I know I'm one step closer than I was yesterday.

Stepping Back Into My Field of Dreams

I have been missing in action over here for the past while and I have finally put some words to just a little of what has been going on within this happy little mind of mine.

I don't know if this "happy" has come from finding "17 Ways to Build My Courage" or if completing Brené Brown's "Living Brave" course has rerouted my thoughts or if it is simply "sitting out in the sun" again that has me looking up and out of this tired little world. But something is working!

I wrote a little blog about it over at MyKawartha.com. Please come join me and a way back into finding your dreams too! http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6523569-stepping-back-into-my-field-of-dreams/

A Train of Thoughts Which Led to Mom

I can't believe it's "Friday" already! Having a holiday sitting by itself, in the middle of a week, sandwiched between two working days on either end of it is my kind of week!

It is the kind of week where it is easy to say "Yes!" to most everything.

Friend - "What are you doing Monday night?"
Me - "Most likely nothing ..."
Friend - "Would you like to come over for supper?"
Me - "Sure!"

It was that easy. And it was easier just to show up, lose myself in friendship, good food, good company, cats and step into a conversation that felt like it had never ended from our last visit.

We scratched the surface and got deep and introspective at times, whimsical and silly at others but mostly we just enjoyed the flow of words and a conversation that took us to the place where it is easy to say what is on your mind, in your heart and share hopes, dreams, sorrows and pain. It was exactly the conversation I have been yearning for.

I got home to a message from another friend. "What are you doing on Wednesday? Do you want to get together?" My answer was easy. Sure! That sounds great!!

In reality, this is another weekend for me! I don't work every Saturday but I work enough of them to come to expect only one day off per week. So to have this gift of a weekend tucked neatly inside of a week is such a bonus for me. I am energized in knowing I have another "Friday night" on a Tuesday and another "Sunday" on a Wednesday.

I chatted with Mom last night and she wearily sighed, "What do you do with a holiday in the middle of the week?" My answer? "Absolutely nothing at all. That is the beauty of it!"

One lone holiday stuck inside of the middle of a week does not have the same impact in Mom's world. It is not attached to a weekend, so the chance of some long weekend company is pretty close to nil. There won't be a stark contrast between the two days on either end of this day off for Mom. I think I understand what she is saying.

Mom is living the life it seems "we" are all talking about. Retirement, a time of ease and living without the demands of a full time job. Yet it is that very structure that we are fighting all of our work lives that helps us appreciate little things like a holiday in the middle of a week.

Mom's words often make me sit back and take inventory on the life I am living and where I think I want to go from here. She helps me appreciate the sense of purpose I have built into my life. I compare and contrast who I am, to who she is and I often say that I am already thirty years ahead of my time when it comes to the lack of desire to clean the nooks and crannies of our house. But I think it comes from a different place and that is what makes all the difference in the world. Her house simply doesn't get dirty. Heavens, it barely even gets dusty! So why would she feel the need to crawl on top of counter tops to clean that which is already pretty clean?

Mom has spent her life feeling driven. She went to sleep, mapping out the next day so she could make time for the sewing she so enjoyed or a project around the house that she was working on. She worked hard her whole life. I listen to her now and I hear a little echo in the place that used to drive and inspire her. Without that sense of purpose and a body that is slowing down, I think there is a sense of loss of what she once had. And here I sit, wasting (what she may consider) some of the best years of her life.

She spoke of investing on some new hearing aids when we chatted. She asked if it was crazy to spend "that kind of money" on them. I said, "Absolutely not! Other people spend money like that on a vacation and don't give it a second thought." Mom loves to visit and enjoys people's company so very much. If there is a way she can improve her sense of hearing so she can savor what she already enjoys a little bit more, it is priceless. She misses so much by not hearing the little nuances of a conversation. She is quick witted, spry and has so very much to say but I have a feeling she would enjoy all that she is, just a little bit more if her hearing was just a little more keen.

Mom is our miracle lady. In a world where it seems that "everyone I know" is dealing with either aches and pains and symptoms that doctors can't diagnose ... and even when they can, they cannot cure, heal &/or take away the pain. Almost (although she still has a "funny head" sensation which she has just learned to live with) every time Mom has had a serious set of symptoms which needed a doctor's intervention, they were able to diagnose, medicate &/or fix the root of the problem. Who can say that these days?!?

So if there is a way she can hear and enjoy her world a little bit more? I say "Go for it!!"  I told her "I would do it and I don't even have money." I will never be rich and I never will be, because I think like this. I spend my money (that which I have and that which I have not yet earned) on what is important to me. Everyone's priorities are different and I am not going to judge the choices anyone else makes. But when I see a solution that money can buy, when it comes to one's health or the ability to enjoy your life a little more, I think it is the best deal going.

I know Mom basically had made her own mind up before we spoke and (I think) she was maybe just bouncing her words off me to see how they sounded out loud (this adds such perspective and I highly recommend it!). As our conversation was winding down, she said even though she hasn't committed to anything yet, her choice of hearing aids were "Good", "Better" or "Best". She said she thought "better" was the way to go. I asked her why she didn't think she was worth the best. She said, "For a thousand more dollars?!!" in a tone that implied "Money doesn't grow on trees you know!" I think if that is all it costs, in a world where money cannot buy happiness, love, peace or health, I think that is a heck of a deal!!

I hung up the phone and smiled.

Mom has seemed haunted by the age "87 years". Her dad and two of her sisters died when they were 87 years old. Mom had that birthday this spring and I've never seen or heard weakness in Mom's spirit until this 87th hurdle of her life. I almost felt a resignation of her spirit at times and have braced myself for "anything". But if she is actually seriously considering in investing in her hearing, I think she believes not only is she worth it, but she is going to get her money's worth out of that deal!

You are worth the best, Mom! Believe it! Go for it!! And you go and get the best value out of that hard earned money. No, it doesn't grow on trees but you and Dad worked together to provide a crop which has sustained you comfortably throughout your "retirement" years. Not only are you worth it, I think you are a pretty solid investment and deserve to reap the rewards of your hard earned harvest.

The Missing Christmas Card

I peek inside the mailbox every day, wishing I could be expecting a Christmas card from you. But I know better. It won't be coming this year. Not like the years which have preceded this one ...

We started exchanging Christmas cards thirty years ago.

You came and spent our first Christmas 'without Dad' with us. You filled a gaping hole in our hearts, our supper table and our Christmas memories that year.

You have a quiet way of knowing. You look at each one of us and seem to hear so very much more than we are saying. You speak everyone's language because you listen with your heart.

You were and still are a favorite uncle to all. We filled pages upon pages (within our family's book of stories and memories), with all the ways you impacted all of our lives.

You quietly went about your life thousands of miles away from the place you call 'home', yet you remained connected and a great part of our family despite the miles and time that distanced you from us.

Every time you came home, there was great rejoicing among all.

Your nieces and nephews said perhaps it was because you came home at Christmas time, bearing gifts for all (and there were a lot of us). You were our family's very own personal Santa Claus.

You gave and you gave and you gave.

We gave you our hearts, our trust and our loyalty in return.

You were an icon within our family. Similar to Santa Claus, only better. Because you were real. You weren't just a fictional character who appeared only once a year. You came back home at times of celebration, for reunions, for good times and bad. Santa is a fickle, fair-weather friend. You showed up for 'life'.

Yes, it was the year after you 'showed up' for our family when I sent you that first Christmas card.

You are such a gentleman. Full of honor, respect, generosity and impeccable manners. You replied to that first letter I sent to you and we became Christmas-time pen pals.

Your letters were always personal. You always asked about my family. You always made some comment about some little quality about 'me' you had noticed. You put pen to paper and reading your words was always a gift.

You see what goes on beneath the surface of a person. And you speak to that quality. I truly believe your perception brings out the best in people. I know I feel a little more special than I really am when I read your words.

I am so very grateful that life, time and circumstances gave me the opportunity to know you a little more than I knew you, beyond our annual Christmas card exchange.

I tentatively invited myself into your world when I approached you with the idea of collecting memories of Dad's family. You were on board before the ship even arrived. You not only encouraged me, you said you thought it would be a great idea before you read my proposal.

And so our voyage began.

Six years ago, Mom and I went out to spend several days with you after Christmas. It was the beginning of 'our story'. Not just our family's memoirs. It was the beginning of the story of getting to know 'the man behind the gifts, kind words and annual Christmas letters'.

When I first came up with the idea to collect stories for Dad's family, it was because I had a quest to know more and to hear everything I possibly could, about my own dad.

Wrapped up in the incredible gift of hearing story after story about Dad, was the gift of knowing his brothers.

You were my go-to-brother, when I had a question.

You must have cringed when you opened up email after email. Question after question. Clarification on the answers you provided.

We wrote a lot. We talked many times. You came to my home and allowed me to do you the favor of being your 'host'.

In all the times we spoke, you rarely spoke of yourself. You would talk of your friends. And boy, do you have friends! You have kept in touch with people you have worked with and come to know. You never broke the connection. Your friendships go back decades upon decades.

Then I thought of our first Christmas card exchange. Of course! You would keep in touch with anyone who took the time to keep in touch with you. Where there is a reciprocal exchange of words (whether it is once a year or every week), the seed of friendship is watered and nurtured so it has the opportunity to bloom whenever the sun may have the chance to shine down upon it.

You, the horticulturist of our family, planted many seeds along your way.

You aren't able to 'tend your garden' this year. You, for the first time since I have known you, are tending to yourself.

It must have been an excruciating year for you. Yet you kept doing what you had done, all the years which preceded this one and just kept moving forward.

Still thinking of others. Still doing for others.

Then ... you broke.

We all have our limits. You reached yours this year.

You are still my hero. I wrote your Christmas card and mailed you a small piece of my heart. You may or may not remember it this year. You have a lot of other things on your mind.

I peek into my mailbox each day, wishing I could see your handwriting on an envelope. I know it won't be there. But I feel it in my heart. You would be showing up in my mailbox if you could be.

I brought out your card and letter from last year and reread them this morning.

The small things. Realizing you spelled my Youngest Son's name with a "C" instead of a "K" and correcting it (with a notation in the margin). You took note of these small nuances of life.

Your letter was anything but a form letter. It was to me. And to me only.

You spoke of our most recent visit and "how much ground we covered" (that was your very kind way of referring to the fact I had talked your ear off) when we went out for supper when you were last down. You made a gentle reference to the great restaurant I 'found' for us (I took the wrong turn and we ended up on a very, very long detour to what should have been a very short trip).

"You remember everything," you have told me time and time again. Oh, my dear uncle, it is you who has set the bar. It is you (who has an eye for noticing the subtleties within people, within life and within the actions of those you encounter), who remembers so much.

You speak to the 'little things'.

Even now. Even when I spoke to you a few days ago, you thought to ask about my 'young guy' and you asked about my middle son's farm. Even now.

You have so much to contend with at the moment, yet you are still seeing and hearing far beyond the surface of what a person says. You spoke to my cousin about a reaction you saw in her, when she didn't say a word. Even now.

I have placed last year's card up in my tree in a place of high honor. It is exactly the place where I hold you within my life.

I am sending you my hope and wishing it could make a difference. You have truly made a deep and lasting impact upon me, our family, your friends and the world around you.

You have planted many seeds along the way. It is time for you to bask in the autumn sun and reap the rewards of a garden well tended. 

Be well, my dearest uncle. Maybe next year I will find your handwriting in my mailbox. I am full of hope. Always have been. Always will be.

Better News

I was moments away from losing myself to the oblivion of a good night's sleep last night when the phone rang. My heart sunk to the floor as I thought 'I just don't have any words left...'

It turns out I didn't need any words. All I had to do was listen.

"Guess who I just talked to!?!!" my mom's exhilarated voice rang over the phone line. I didn't have to guess. I knew. She had just spoken with my uncle.

"How did you know?" was Mom's second question. "I could hear it in your voice" was my reply.

Our hearts have been heavy with concern over my uncle these past few months. He has been hospitalized for over six weeks and we really have no idea how much longer he may need to stay.

He has been climbing up a slippery slope and for each hard earned step forward, it seems he has slipped backwards until he hits a precipice which stops his fall. Then he has to work forward from that new starting point.

The last time I spoke with him was three weeks ago. He may or may not have been at the top of his slow slide down that slope when we spoke. At that time, he said they were talking of letting him go home in about a week.

It was over a week later when I heard the next update. I could not have been more shocked and surprised.

Mental health is something of a mystery to me. The brain is a complicated and intricate organ which dictates 'who we are' to ourselves and the world around us.

It has been a worrisome time as we heard the updates to follow. My uncle's reality was skewed and he was (to put it mildly) 'not himself'.

When things went from bad to worse, a cloud followed me wherever I went. "Is this as good as it is going to get?" were the words that echoed within the vacant chambers within my own brain.

I processed how I felt about my uncle's 'broken brain' and compared it to Dad's brain injury (due to lack of oxygen). It wasn't the same. Dad's brain was physically unable to recover. My uncle's symptoms (while more mysterious and perhaps with the mystery came a brand new fear), were psychological. He could recover. Couldn't he?!

I chided myself for feeling like the naive 22 year old I was when Dad was first hospitalized. That was back in the days where I believed anything was possible if a person's body survived the first (near) fatal blow. If the body survived, miracles could happen.

A miracle did not happen for Dad. Could his brother suffer the same fate due to circumstances which were completely and totally different? No!

I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it. I would allow myself to become that naive young girl again and hope. One can always hope!

The last update I heard was five days ago. He was able to hold a conversation with my cousin and she was over the moon.

It seems that I was right to be hopeful.

My uncle called my mom last night. While things are still far from where they need to be for him to take another forward step towards regaining his independence, he is 'back'. He is still with us. He still wants to reach out and talk with us. He is still here!! In body and in mind.

My cousin (who has been walking at my uncle's side every step of the way) called me after I talked with Mom last night.

She talked for an hour. She said so many comforting words. Though she is now expecting the unexpected and has told herself 'one step forward; two steps back' is quite likely the way things will continue to go (at least for now), he is taking that one step forward. Again.

I knew hope was the way for me to go. I knew it!

My heart has felt heavy as I wondered what in the world I could do when almost two thousand miles separate us.

Then I thought of what I always think of at times like this. A letter. And pictures. I packaged up my little bundle of 'hope' and mailed it off last week. I felt better the moment I let that envelope slide into the mailbox. It wasn't much. But it was something. And it was all I could do.

My cousin said she told my uncle to just reread that letter any time he needs to. I can't remember what I wrote but she said the way I put things down in writing made sense to him. She told me he has been showing everyone those pictures. She could very well have been telling me that just to appease me and make me feel a little bit better. Whatever spin I decide to take on that, I just know I did all I could do and the reality is that my uncle has something to have and to hold no matter what.

It is not much. But it is something. Just as my uncle has those pictures and that letter to hold onto, my cousin, my mom, our family, anyone my uncle has been able to talk with and I ... we all have those words to hold onto.

Words. Spoken, written, sung or even those we have wafting through our minds ... words hold such power.

The power of those two conversations long after I thought I was ready to call it a day last night will sustain me until I speak to my uncle again. Which if all goes according to plan, should happen this upcoming weekend. Even if all doesn't go as planned, it means the world to me that he is asking to talk with me. His wish is my gift.

It was much better news than I dared to hope for. But I hoped for it anyway. "Thank you!"

12 Days Before Christmas (a very un-Christmasy post)

My thoughts have been far too serious to rush through them in the mornings the past few days.

Do I long for the mornings when the way I roll out of bed inspires a train of thought of little consequence but I write it out anyway because it is just one of the many ways I amuse myself? Not really. Some days it is best to let the deeper stuff 'steep' for a while. Let's just say I've been brewing a cup of tea that may or may not be worth sharing one day.

I reread something I wrote a year ago (It's Not Only Kids Who Wish For Christmas Every Day) and I couldn't believe the similarity between this year and a year ago. And the year preceding that one. I think that is why I am having a very hard time stating with certainty, the answer to the question of the hour "What are your plans for Christmas?"

The answer in my heart is "I want to go where I most need to be".

I like loosely choreographing life, so I can follow the path of least resistance. I am a little bit resistant to planning. Especially at Christmas time.

Weather overrules all else at this time of year so as much as we think we can plan, there are forces beyond our control at work to keep us where we should be.

My mind goes back a few years ago when I didn't head out on the highway after Christmas due to weather. That decision kept me home. That choice guided me (and my mom and my sister) to be where it mattered the most.

I hope this is a light and easy Christmas season. I hope the sun shines and the roads we need to travel are the ones that remain safe and obstacle free.

If the sun shines down upon the plans-I-have-in-progress, I will take it as a 'heavenly wink' from above, that is where I should be.

I won't obsess about the weather. It, among so very many other things, is completely out of our control.

I am walking gently through these days, ever-mindful of the fact that life as we know it can change in the blink of an eye.

I will send cards and letters as the spirit moves me (it hasn't moved me much but it has definitely steered me in the right direction) and hopefully make a small difference in someone's day when they find a personally addressed envelope in the mail.

I will do the best I can, with what I have, to walk in and through this season of expectations, with my expectations set on 'low' and my hopes set on 'high'.

Not your typical 12 Days Before Christmas Post, but it will just have to do.

The Sun Came Out to Play!!

The sun came out and the sky was blue yesterday. Oh! What a difference a blue sky makes!!

It has been cloudy and dreary and rainy and snow for far too long!! My coping skills were pretty much down to nil. I think I was running in a deficit. I have had enough snow and winter to do me until December. Thank you very much!

I opened up every window and screen door available to me. Welcome back, Sun!! We have missed you so much. More than words can say.

And do you know what the sun said to me? "Clean your doors. Clean your windows. Wipe down the dishwasher. Do you see all the water marks down the oven door?" Man, you sure are bossy for a guy who drops by so seldom!

But do you know what? I was glad to do it. Because all that the clouds tell me is "Don't bother. It is going to rain anyway. There is no sense to do it now. It just doesn't matter!" What a pessimist!

The sun said, "It is a new day. Anything is possible!" The clouds send a subliminal message that tell me "Sit. Hibernate. Nothing is going to change."

The sun is bright, happy and optimistic. I see the blue sky and sunshine and feel elated. The clouds are sad, gloomy and pessimistic. Too many cloudy days in a row and I feel a depressed state seep into my being.

The sun energizes me. The clouds drain me.

The sun beckons to me and calls me outside to absorb its warm and Vitamin D. The clouds make me want to retreat into a warm, dry oasis indoors.

 The sun spurs me into action. I spend and utilize my reserves. The clouds give me an excuse to sit back and recharge.

I like the sun's positive attitude. I can only take so much of the cloud's negativity. Lately? Enough has been enough. Clouds, you have more than overstayed your welcome!!

We walked outside and simply enjoyed the blue sky and finding the signs and signals that spring is on its way. 

The geese flying north in their "V" formation ...

We spotted our first robin... 

I felt happiness seep into my soul. From the inside out. The sun broke through the cloak of sadness and despair that has been an unwelcome guest for far too long.

Please come back again soon.

Hanging in the Balance

There is a place between 'yes' and 'no' that is a place I enjoy. It is that temporary state of lingering between an option that has been tossed into my world where I haven't physically made a leap of faith, yet I haven't been rejected. It is a place of hope.

On the flip side ... when one lingers too long in that place of indecision, it is one of my least favorite places to be.

That place is different than that brief, lingering state of waiting for someone else's decision that can ultimately change the course of where-I-go-from here.

When one is sitting and literally waiting for the phone to ring for one day too long, it becomes very uncomfortable.

Seeds of doubt are planted and have time to grow. Incidents that may or may not be related to the initial 'seed' become intertwined in my mind and I can create some pretty fascinating stories in my mind.

I am waiting for a potential new family to call me back. They were calling my references as a mere formality. They ultimately told me that they had already chosen me to take care of their child. I am simply waiting for their final answer. And waiting.

Why am I so worried? Because I am an imperfect person in an imperfect world. I know that one of my references expects near-perfection in the person who provides care for their child. And I haven't talked to 'that parent' all week. I have intertwined the two incidents and they have become one giant mess in my mind.

I know that people get busy and distracted in their own lives. It isn't 'all about me', when someone doesn't call or react or show up. Yet there are days. Those days when the final decision simply takes one day or one moment-in-time too long.

In the past, I have contacted the person I need to talk to in an effort to nip my worries in the bud. I have embarrassed myself more times than I care to remember because I blew things out of proportion in my mind. Then actually called 'that someone' and confessed all that I was thinking.

Yesterday I decided that this was yet another case of me inventing things to worry about. So I decided to simply trust that all was fine and I would hear my answers in good time.

The time spent waiting are not the kind of days I appreciate. But they happen. That is life. There is a measure of discomfort from time to time.

The days when I hang in the balance and scrutinize and measure myself against 'perfection' ... those are not good days. Measuring myself against perfection is not a place I should be in the first place.

A Little Dab'll Do Ya

I write this in the spirit of 'ask and you shall receive' .... I have been receiving a very nice little dose of what I have been needing this past little while.

I have been fretting a lot about work lately. Should I be looking for another job? What will happen in the fall? Do I need a second job? If I don't know any of these answers, how should I make the most of the upcoming summer holidays??

Then there is the work itself. I have been beyond blessed to get a half time position until the end of the school year. I could not be working and learning in a better school. The person I am working with is meticulous and I am learning the correct way to do things. They like their newsletter to be a showcase of the school so that people who read it think 'I want my child to go to school here!' So I have had some excellent training in regards to the newsletter as well.

The unfortunate part is that I haven't been called out to very many schools lately. I have high expectations of myself, so when I am learning the correct way to do things, I strive to be perfect. This places undue stress on all of my systems (especially when it seems the harder you try not to make a mistake, the more likely you are to do so). I have been craving some kind of feedback so that I can monitor the ongoing 'where do I go from here?' dilemma.

Ask ... and you shall receive!

I worked at a different school on Friday. As always, when I run into a situation where I cannot complete 100% of what needs to be done, I left a detailed note for the secretary (admin assistant) I had replaced. I do this consistently, where ever I work. I strive to do the job that I would like someone to do for me, if I was away. Sometimes I get some acknowledgement for what I do, but more often than not there is nothing said one way or another.

Monday afternoon, I received an email from the admin assistant that I replaced on Friday. She was overly kind with her praise and gratitude. This was on top of the words of thanks from the principal and vice principal when I left Friday afternoon (it is a very rare occurrence to leave a school without an acknowledgement of gratitude). Little things. They mean so much!

Yesterday I got a last minute call to work at a school that I have worked at before. But when I arrived, I found that I was replacing the part-time secretary and I would finally have the opportunity to work with the admin assistant that I had replaced in the past. My role for the day would be vastly different as support staff (verses just trying to keep the office running in whatever capacity you can make it happen when replacing the full time admin assistant).

One of the first questions I was asked was, "Have you ever done a newsletter?" I was overjoyed to be able to answer with one simple, unqualified word. "Yes." ("!!!" I thought) And having learned from a school that strives for perfection with their newsletter, I asked almost no questions. I was on my way (and I knew where I was going!!).

The newsletter was completed, printed and on its way early that afternoon. I still had time left over to work on another job that I had been given. I worked all day and felt that I was of value. I rarely get this feeling of accomplishment in my role as a substitute. It felt a little bit wonderful.

As if that was not enough in and of itself, the admin assistant that I was working with all day told me that she would be asking for me in the future. She was grateful for all that I was trained and equipped to do, to lighten the load. Her words meant the world to me.

It was so nice to have the opportunity to get to know just a small piece of the person that I had been working with all day. She has been working at this school for 21 years ... but it has not always been easy. When she talked of the first weeks in her position, it made my appreciate the 'easy road' that I have been travelling.

Sometimes we are tested, to see what we are made of. Once challenges are overcome, the road to success becomes an option. Turning around and running the other way does not pave the way to achieving what you have set out to do.

I'm not running away. I am receiving what I need to keep me hopeful about the future. I have asked for answers to my questions. I am not receiving the specific answers that I have been seeking ... but I have been getting exactly what I have been lacking. Hope.

We all need to feel of value within our world. Be generous with your praise and positive thoughts. You never know just how much the person on the other end of that conversation may need to hear those words.

Feedback and acknowledgement. A little dab'll do ya ...

Seeds of Hope

I have been sitting still and reacting to life a lot lately. My defense is that 'I am doing all that I can do' and I feel very good about where things are (eventually) headed. But taking a back seat and simply going along for the ride has not been sitting well with me.

I needed to go and seek out some answers. Talk to people and get a feel for what lies ahead. Take a proactive approach and attempt to create some sort of safety net.

Yesterday, I took action. Today there is no visible difference to my situation, but internally I feel much better.

I researched a back-up plan to find out that it is there. It isn't an end-all answer but it is there in case of emergency.

I took my first step towards seeking out a back-up solution. I have a few other ideas to consider.

I have an in-case-of-emergency plan. But I cannot use that unless I have a forecast of what the future holds. So I have asked the questions. I am simply waiting for the answers.

What should happen while I was addressing the situation that has been consuming my energy? Another glimmer of hope from one of those wide nets I threw out a few months ago. They took two months to consider my offer ... and they are going to take me up on it!

Seeds of hope. I planted a few yesterday ... I reaped something which I sewed a few months ago. Life is full of surprises. As long as you keep planting those seeds.

That Place Between 'Yes' and 'No'

One of my most favorite places to be is that spot somewhere in between 'yes' and 'no'.

You apply for a job and the deadline for applications has not come to pass. You extend an invitation and await a reply. You put yourself out on a limb and offer a suggestion that requires approval from another party.

The place in between yes and no gives you the gift of hope.

The word 'yes' opens up brand new doors and can be the beginning of many great things. Yes can be a springboard for new opportunities and has the potential to change the course of your life.

Yet 'yes' is sometimes a frightening proposition when it comes to something brand new. Are you up to the task? Is it going to be everything you hoped? What complications will this new dimension bring to your life if you are accepted? Sometimes it is a relief when the answer is no.

It is that place in between yes and no where you have an opportunity to dream and dare to hope. It is a safe place to be. Nothing has changed ... yet. You have yet to discover what is around the next corner and the impact it will have.

Sometimes that new reality casts a shadow on all that you dreamed it could be. 'Yes' isn't the end all answer. There is work to be done once you gain that approval.

There soon comes a plateau where you can look back on where you were, what you had and you appreciate it more from a distance. But that same plateau is a stepping stone towards where you want to go. Yes isn't the end. It is a new beginning and there is work to be done to keep climbing towards where you want to go.

I have become addicted to the idea of casting out a wide net which offers me unlimited room to dream and dare to hope. Both acceptance and rejection have the potential to paralyze me. So I must keep casting smaller nets as I move forward to keep from standing still.

Hope invigorates, energizes and inspires. Hope springs eternal ...

"We love to expect,

and when expectation is either disappointed or gratified,

we want to be again expecting."

~ Samuel Johnson