Ducks at Graveside

I'm not sure how I fell into this role of cemetery caretaker, but nevertheless, here I am, on a blustery January evening, trying to get everything in place, before the sun sets and I have to boogie out the front gate to get out in time.

For some time now, years actually, I've been responsible for putting out flowers at our family's burial plot. Today, it was time to change out the winter flowers to something with a Valentine's theme.

Today was also the first time I saw my uncle's new headstone. I stared at it for the longest time, my eyes crinkly with tears. I miss him so much. I couldn't help but feel that his stone was not quite right, it didn't capture all he meant to this world, but then again, how would you ever fit all of what you what to say, all you want to remember, on a marble tablet? So, you drop to the ground, ignoring the red clay, and then...

Then you pause to look up at the flock of geese honking by. His favorite bird. The ones he would stand and watch out his front door, with what seemed like an almost curious reverence, as they flew overhead, over the fields, over us all.

Be well.

Catch Your Breath

It has rained here, for what seems like 40 days and 40 nights. Torrential, gusty, nothing-left-to-do but sit inside with a cup of tea, and pray for spring kind of weather.

Last weekend, though, Saturday dawned bright and warm, and I suppose it was extra-special, since it seemed so long since the sun had made an appearance this side of Graceland.

My Dad is wheel-chair bound, and he wanted to get out and enjoy the nice day, too. Helping him transfer into the motorized wheelchair, I thought it it would handle the muddy trails a little better than a regular, lighter-weight wheelchair.

I am a pollyanna-idiot.

We got stuck here.
We got stuck there.
We got stuck everywhere.

Mud caking up the sides of the tires, motor revving trying to get out of the bogs, and the sun beating down on us. This little adventure quickly sapped my enthusiasm, and it seemed we would only get a few feet along before we were again ankle deep in mud.

Pulling 300+ pounds out of the mud is not fun, and I ranted and raved quite a bit, muttering under my breath much of the time. With no help in sight, and no cell phone to call, if we were to get back home, it was up to me.

After a number of failed attempts in the deepest mud, my Dad said, "Why don't we stop for a minute, and catch our breath?"

I suddenly felt like the biggest whiner ever.

I knew he was right; how sometimes, if we just stop the frantic pushing and pulling of life, and catch our breath, we can then collect our thoughts, refocus our energy, and renew our spirit.

We eventually made it home, caked with grime and sweat, but calmer and slower, too. It was a good Saturday.

Be well.

Well Said, Mr. President

Thought for today:

"Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing." Theodore Roosevelt

Be well.

No Embargo on Miracles

Please remember miracles will continue to happen, just as certainly as the sun rises, and the days pass.

The other sure thing?

Change is unavoidable.

Change is Life. Give yourself permission to accept, and perhaps move towards welcoming, change into your world. It will open up life in dramatic ways.

Accepting change sometimes means you won't always be in control or know what's coming next.

Accepting change may mean giving up part of your comfort zone to make room for something new.

Accepting change is not easy.
It's not for wimps.
Neither is growing old.

But the alternative for both is the same.

Embrace the living you've still got left to do! That itself is the real miracle.

Be well.