Counting Blessings

I think our sense of gratitude is like a muscle we must build and flex. It must be fed, comforted, searched for and defined. I used to be diligent about keeping a list of things I was grateful for, things that grace my life. I've kept this list for years. Lost the list completely once and began again. I've been slacking in keeping up with that recently.

Isn't that the perfect analogy for life. You start, you stop, you win, you lose, you begin again. You count your blessings.

Where are you in life? How are you flexing the muscles of faith and gratitude? Is your heart full of joy, angst, worry, anticipation?

I was just in the kitchen preparing for Thanksgiving. I was chopping onions, and celery. Measuring spices for stuffing. I've been doing these same tasks since I was old enough to work beside my mom in the kitchen. Now for years, I've been the mom in the kitchen. I've sliced and diced with parents, siblings, relatives, friends, and my children. Other times it's been a solitary labor of love while waiting for my favorite people to arrive. But it's tradition, it's what we do to break bread and give thanks for the life we have, the people we love.

I get that we can quickly, almost thoughtlessly come up with things we are thankful for. I understand sometimes we have to dig deep for even one thing to be grateful for. I know sometimes the worst of circumstances bring infinite blessings. I've experienced divine intervention and happy endings. 

So, I give thanks today for the feelings, the words, the love, the loss and the experiences that life so generously offers me. I'll pause to remember to write on my list and share it. It hangs in my kitchen, anyone who visits is welcome to add to it. One of my son's adds to the list whenever he's home. I treasure his words. I need to give thanks for that. I give thanks for you too. For the ways our paths crossed, and how our lives are woven together. 

Tears

There are days, golden days, when blessings abound that are still somehow tinged with sadness.  You wish it wasn't so. No number of wishes makes it different.

Sorrow enters our lives. Some experience it early, some experience it repeatedly, some go most of their lives only to be confronted with it late in life. I don't believe anyone escapes it. The sorrow shifts as I grow and change. It's hard, but honesty, great growth comes from it. 

Most days we can sweep it into a corner and look past it. Some days we can channel it into activity and not even acknowledge it. But it is there lurking. So somedays we simply must own it. Acknowledge its existence. Sit down and just feel it. In a perfect world, tears help wash it away. Tears cleanse and renew. Though of late, tears seem harder to find. The irony is I used to be a very weepy woman. Every sad movie, every poignant commercial and my kids would be watching for when the water works started. And they always did. 

Now, it doesn't happen so much. I know I'm not alone in this. Honestly, I could use a good cry, and a good laugh for that matter. Heck, I'd take tears and laughter one right after the other. Doesn't matter which order they come in. 

I've been pondering this, and truthfully need to talk to the big guy upstairs about it. Don't get me wrong I'm not wanting more sorrow. I would like to continue processing the share I've had. Sweeping it aside isn't working. Maybe you feel the same. If so, the good news is you are not alone. I'll pass the Kleenex if you need some and understand if the tears are stuck. I can relate to both. 

 

Open To Change

It's funny how life changes. You move along a set path that is comfortable and consistent. Until it isn't. People change, situations shift, chapters close. By force of nature, divine intervention, or serendipity a new door opens. Or an old familiar door closes.

Sometimes we don't seek out new opportunities, they just find us. Oddly enough each place I've worked gave me a tenure of approximately 6 1/2 years. How random is that. Maybe every six plus years the big guy upstairs felt the need to stretch me, to move me into the company of others. To bless me with things and people I didn't know I needed. Or to bless others with the gift of me. Life is like that. 

Relationships can be like that too. Some last years, some bloom and then fade. Some end abruptly. Some we hold fond memories of, and others leave painful reminders. 

Seasons of the year change, seasons of life change, seasons of love change too. I read an article recently where a person was challenged to envision the person they wanted to become. Even envisioning involves change. I can easily make a list of things I'd like to be less of, but things I'd like to be more of isn't as easy. 

I think change involves believing, trust and determination. It requires letting go of what was, to embrace what is ahead of us. They say change is good. They say change is hard. They say it won't always be this way. They say the best is yet to come. I do believe they would be right. 

You Don't Forget

Six years ago today, life changed. Since September is Suicide Awareness Month, it seems fitting to share about the impact of suicide, the stigma that surrounds it, and some personal thoughts. 

First of all, no one imagines it could happen to them. Even if there are signs, subtle or blatant, you never think you will end up being a survivor of suicide loss. You just don't know what you don't know. Until you know. And then, if you know, you know.

There is always both judgement and stigma around suicide. From the outside looking in people assume, make wild guesses, ask questions that can never be answered. I recall being asked why I didn't make my husband take his antidepressants, why didn't I hide them in his food? For one, drugging someone against their will is not kosher. And also, as if I had enough power to change another human by sheer will or subterfuge. Just not possible, nor was it my job.

Do I wish things were different. Of course, I do. Do I still struggle to wrap my head about how his choice and his actions unfolded. Every day. I can't know what his thought process was. I'm pretty sure he was incredibly angry and in severe mental anguish. I had someone say today people should just suck it up, that life is hard for everyone. Life is hard, and life is precious. Some days it doesn't seem like the hard will ever end. I took offense at those words, and I defended those whose struggle is beyond their capacity to deal with. I wish I'd said more. I wish life was different. 

All I know is I'm different because of this experience. You don't forget, it walks with you wherever you go. Amid the stigma and speculation. And you remember the day life changed. 

Superpowers

What is your Superpower? I'd never been asked that question. So of course, my mind went bonkers for a moment. Do I have superpowers? Or do I not. Do I have more than one? How many on average does the average person, if they have superpowers, have? How do you define a superpower? 

You see, it's an intriguing question. Some people's superpower might be always landing on their feet. Or their faith is their superpower. My son said he's pretty good at eating pizza although he's not sure it's a superpower. But it's probably close. My daughter's superpower is knowing just when the food in the oven is done without a timer. So, I know if the kids are home and we're cooking pizza I'm covered. Is loving deeply a superpower? Is laughter? Is compassion your superpower?

It gave me pause to consider those things I'm good at. Things I may even be great at. Things that might just be a superpower. So, think about it, what is your superpower? For the record, I think it's okay to have more than one. It's okay if they are still in the development stages. And if they include pizza, well that's super too. 

Grace To Go On

There are some truly horrible things that happen in life. Tragic losses, illnesses, accidents, suicides, senseless killings. Some so random it's hard to fathom. Many unexpected and completely devastating. Most of us encounter heartbreaking circumstances in life. We are forever changed. 

All this comes to mind because of stories in the news and because an anniversary of the heart is coming up. I journaled frequently when life was fraught with worry and fear. So, I can go back and look at where I was 6 years ago and the years since. I do go back and look. To maintain clarity, to seek new understanding. Just to remember and know I did the best I could at the time. Sometimes it's suggested I just let all that go. To not revisit it, but sometimes it's necessary, sometimes its healing. 

I don't know where you are in life. If you are struggling, if you are faking it while trying to make it. Or if you are basking in sunny skies and happy moments. Maybe right now life is all struggle and hope is waning. Sometimes we don't even know what to hope for. I remember being there. I prayed for answers knowing that none of the answers were easy ones. I recoiled at the ugliness that came my way. I trusted that something good would come of it. Could that be the gift of hard times? That something good comes from all experiences? 

We forget sometimes that there are others who would gladly trade their lives for ours. Even what we consider our messy life, with our hurting hearts. Because their burden weighs so heavy, because our life looks golden. We know it's not all golden. We know it's hard, and we know some moments shine with complete goodness. Because in our hope, be it overflowing or miniscule, grace to go on is found.

Greater Appreciation

I have a greater appreciation for the stages of life. Perhaps this comes from age, from loss, basically from love.

I'll admit to feeling some envy for those just building the lives they seek. For those dating, or getting married, or newly married. The fun, the anticipation, the newness. The infinite possibilities of it all. 

I remember the joy of expecting a baby, and the precious moments with my babies. Except I didn't realize how sacred those moments actually were. I was busy finding my way, learning, growing, worried I wasn't doing it right. I lived from day-to-day feeding babies, changing diapers, keeping house, cooking dinners, falling into bed exhausted. In the blink of an eye, they were off to school, then college and making tracks into lives of their own.

Life changed and I learned about being a single Mom. A path I never expected. Yet there I was. I believed in our marriage, I had hope for it, I was willing to work for it. It's a hard lesson to learn that you can't do the work for two. And marriage is work, commitment, flexibility, investment of love and energy. So, there I was, divorced learning how to navigate life and parenting. So many crossroads life brings us to.

Down the road, I married again which brought many blessings and much sorrow. Lessons keep coming to us in different ways until we learn them. Some of us are quick learners, some remedial. Such is life.

I have a greater appreciation of loss and grief, of rebuilding life after it. Of the sadness that is a constant companion, or the loneliness that comes with it. I understand now how lonely my mom must have been. How a phone call or a visit would have made her day. I wish things had been different with her, but relationships are never easy, ours definitely wasn't. I get it now, the amount of alone time that fills our hours. Just as I understand that my kids have lives of their own. Lives I raised them for, covering them in love, teaching them about strength. Filling them with faith and hope.

I get it now. The journeys life takes us on. The valleys, the mountains, the phases we go through. I'm grateful, I'm wistful. I look longingly back, and faithfully forward. I wish many things were different, and I'm grateful many are not. Without the journey, I'd never know. For that I have greater appreciation.