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. 

 

Puppy Tales

This is a rescue story. Let's call it Part One of the Great 8!

Eight you say? Yes, eight pointer puppies, approximately 16 weeks old were dumped in a Menard's parking lot. Eight puppies who had probably only known the confines of a kennel with a cement floor. Dumped like trash in the summer heat. That's where it started. Thankfully people stepped in. Two of the puppies were picked up by good Samaritans. The other six were rescued by Noah's Hope Animal Rescue. The first two were also turned over to Noah's Hope. So, all eight indeed had hope going for them. The local rescue reached out to Great Plains Pointer Rescue for assistance. Eight puppies are a lot. But this is what we do, and we do it with open hearts and willing foster homes. 

Now, let me also say I don't foster puppies as a general rule. I have a thing for gnarly old seniors. But rules are made to be broken. The call went out for fosters, and volunteers stepped up. All the puppies, who now have names and a safe place to land, came into the fold. Dolly & Dixon, George, Pearl, Slick, Keeper, Doug, and Ansell began their new life.

 

It includes many things they'd never encountered before. New noises, rules, leashes and collars, things to chew and not to chew. Crates, even going potty in the grass. It also includes cuddles and loving, treats, vet care, kisses and snuggles, toys to play with. All of this while we wait for Part Two to begin.

Part Two begins when they find their forever home. Until then they are growing, learning, playing, pooping and thriving in their foster homes. Well, hopefully not pooping "in" the foster home. All because they got lucky the day they were dumped. Because people stepped up to the plate for them. Because rescue programs exist. And yes, ultimately because people choose to adopt, not shop. 

Carry on you Great 8, with your puppy shenanigans, wiggle butts and velvet ears. We've got you and will see that you get only the best. 

 

What Needs Tending?

What's your garden like? I see some well landscaped, meticulously planted Gardenscapes. They look professional, almost too perfect. Don't get me wrong, they are well appointed, they are color coordinated. They have sprinkler systems. They don't appear to have anyone putzing around checking for bugs, buds, blossoms, weeds. Someone must tend them, but who invests the love and interest? We all need love and interest. We flounder without it.

I've been trying to find the balance between floundering and flourishing for some time now. Owning it is the first step. There are days I nail it. There are days I wonder where am I going, what am I doing? And why? Seriously why? I have a greater appreciation for the days I sailed right through. As well as a deeper understanding of the days that were an uphill battle. I look back trying to put life in perspective. To take responsibility for my stuff. We all have stuff you know. 

Now "garden" could be my actual garden, or an analogy that life resembles a garden. There are parts of my "garden" that I never tend. Never speak of. I do it because of shame sometimes. Because I feel like I've failed. Because I'm afraid of judgement. Because I'm afraid of trying again. Perhaps because it's easier, theoretically, to have weeds, than to weed them out. Weeds are a known entity. Weeds are consistent. We like consistent.

Those parts of my life are uncomfortable and take up precious energy. Energy better spent in releasing what didn't or doesn't work and planting anew. It's not easy. In fact, it's very hard. I think though, much like forgiveness, it's necessary. So, I ask what needs weeding, what's blooming, what needs forgiving, what needs nurturing?

Life Is Hard, Life Is Lovely

I have to wonder sometimes if I will ever fully regain joy and enthusiasm. Was that taken from me on the roads of life? Was it a thing of youth?  Do you ever feel this way? I know life is hard, I know I am blessed beyond measure. I know I have more than I ever imagined, more than I deserve. Still sometimes sadness tips the scale.

Then I wonder am I where I need to be, doing what I'm meant to do? I referenced that recently and a friend immediately said, oh yes you are. You were meant to be right here with us. I loved her immediate affirmation. I need to remember that. I know that the biggest moments in life can be miniscule in scope yet enormous in impact. Such is the juxtaposition of life. That said who doesn't need more affirmation?

I am not a thrill seeker, or a risk taker. I really lead a quiet life. Sometimes too quiet, but hey, I am an introvert by nature. A creature of habit. So, I am trying to do new things, or old things differently. Small things that only I will know are different. Little changes in routine, small indulgences to mix it up. It is a conscious effort to experience life differently. Perhaps the key is to really experience life. Be in the moment. I sometimes get lost in moments long gone.

Where are you in this moment of life. Are you struggling? Are you on hold? Are you wishing life was different? Is your faith a bit shaky and your dreams tattered? Are you looking forward with complete anticipation? Are you doing the happy dance? Are you filled with peace and gratitude. It all changes moment to moment. So, it's okay to have one foot in faith and one in fear. To be happy and sad, to feel lost and at the same time found. Life is hard, and life is lovely. And I'm here to share it with you. 

Sowing Seeds

Seeds. We plant them all the time. Metaphorically speaking we may plant them without even knowing we're doing it. Other times we plant very deliberately. Sometimes they grow, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they lay dormant. There are prayers I've prayed that are like seeds that have yet to show signs of growth. They were planted, tended, watered and yet nothing. Or they grew in ways I never expected. Growing yet never producing. Growing and then perishing. Some growing and blossoming. The way of it all is a mystery to me.

As mysterious as tucking a small hard seed into the ground and covering it with soil and faith. I don't know why it works. It just does. I'll never understand the times things I nurtured self-destructed. I'll always wonder why growth is so tenuous sometimes and so vigorous another. I'll marvel when the outcomes are greater than I've ever hoped. I'll weep as needed over losses that defy understanding.

 

I'll plant seeds of hope and gratitude. I'll plant because I believe in the possibilities. I'll pray over those planted long, long ago and those planted just recently. I'll delight when they break ground, and marvel at the miracle of it all. Trusting in the process of growth.

Sweet Grass

When I moved from the country, three years ago, I potted up some sweet grass and brought it with me. It was one of several plants I carried with. Some irises, some rhubarb, and the sweet grass. The rhubarb didn't survive the journey, one iris did, and the grass.  

The sweet grass came from a cherished neighbor, who likely got it in a roundabout way from native Americans. It's all connected through nature and history. When I was frantically packing the last of the last things, I hastily dug some grass and dropped it in an empty pot. It held on through the move, summer, and fall. In the Spring I couldn't even remember what was in the pot. The sparse amount of soil finally gave way to some spindly blades of grass. That seems a fair analogy of my move and the upheaval of it all. A little soil, some roots, an old pot, and a dusting of hope.

It occurred to me recently that it was time to plant to grass where it could thrive. It was growing, but it was confined and didn't need to be. Another analogy of my life? I believe so. Sometimes we are hesitant to put down roots, to explore possibilities, to encourage growth. Sometimes, we need to just dig deep, plant our hopes, dreams and yes, a little bit of sweet grass. All that said it gives me a touch of anxiety to just let it grow. I don't want to lose it. This tie to my other life. But the flip side is if it thrives, I may have enough to share. It may become more than it is. Same for me.