It's Not Easy

When I was ten years old, our family dog had a litter of puppies during a bitter cold January. We tried to keep all ten puppies and their mama warm by attaching a heat lamp above their box in the attached garage, but the extreme temperatures took their toll. One by one, the puppies died. I was devastated with each loss of a tiny life, but the worst was yet to come. With four pups still hanging in there, our dog, Princess, succumbed to pneumonia. She took her last breath as I sat next to her on the floor of the utility room, petting her and loving her through her final moments. Although I had lost many cats to cars and other tragedies, it was the first time I had watched someone I loved die.

It wasn't easy. We had to take her body to the farm of some family friends because the ground was too frozen for us to dig a grave. We had to figure out how to feed four hungry pups who no longer had a warm mother to care for them. We had to clean up after the orphans and do our best to save them.

Our family members took turns feeding the puppies, warming a milk mixture and filling glass baby bottles, then mothering those babies the best we could. All four pups survived. We found good homes for three of them and kept one, a female, and called her Princess, after her mother. Princess II was probably the best dog I've ever had. She had a bond with our family, likely because we had such a strong bond with her. For 13 years she was the best friend a girl could have, even after I moved out on my own. That was a true connection.

You might expect a dog to be loyal, as dogs are known for such things. Humans are capable of this kind of loyalty, of course, but we don't love unconditionally as dogs do. We judge and discern and hold back praise or affection, because there are inner struggles we deal with on a daily basis. Whether to be right or be kind. Whether to give in or stand strong. Whether to be independent or interdependent. Whether to shut out or let in.

My thoughts on human relationships have been inspired by, of all things, Facebook and "Facebook friends." Chris, a man I know only through Facebook, posted that he was suspending his account for Lent. His declaration, along with a story from 2007 in the Washington Post by Gene Weingarten called "Pearls Before Breakfast" got me thinking about how we rush through life, sometimes looking for the easiest way to just get through the day. Rather than slow down and take the time to SEE and HEAR the beauty around us, we often either ignore it or briefly take note that we'll appreciate it more "next time." As for friendship, the beauty of real human connection is something that needs to be developed to be appreciated.

Social networking makes friendship seem easy. We send a friend request and it gets accepted. We post something that others agree with, and we find like-minded people. Finding like-minded people is a wonderful benefit of online connections, but in order to truly call these people my Friends, I must make an effort to be a friend, and "liking" that person's Facebook post or making a positive comment isn't enough, in my opinion. I don't want to slack off on the one thing that could bring the most fulfillment and joy to my life that I cannot bring to it alone. I don't want to "phone in" my friendship.

I wouldn't want to completely forgo electronic communications, but I see them as a jumping-off point:  I meet someone online, decide I'd like to know that person better, and take steps to do so. I put some energy into becoming a friend. I can't know that the other person would want to reciprocate the energy output, but that's the risk you take when you reach out your hand. I'd rather risk some rejection than never try to reach across the divide.

When I was ten years old, the important aspects of my existence were things like the love of my family, loyal friends, hikes through the woods, a good dog, music, drawing, learning how to cook, sewing, and exploring. I find that I am still that ten year-old inside, with some extra loves and wisdom gained throughout the years.

As far as core values go, not much has changed. I think it's time to set aside "easy" for "Rich". I think it's time to honor the honesty of the ten year-old heart.

What's Lost Is Sometimes Found

I have lost many things in my life - my father, friendship, one glove, a loving man, my lavender comb, several teeth (don't worry, they were baby teeth) - and some things lost cannot be found again. Certain losses are of one-of-a-kind treasures, like my father, whose humor and affection and funny quirks live on in my mind and sometimes in my dreams, where he comes to visit me.

The friendships that I've lost were perhaps destined to only last a certain amount of time, until we moved on to other stages of our lives. The glove was easily replaced. The comb I'm still looking for, hoping.

In a cluttered house, it can be easy to lose something because of all the visual noise distracting you from what you are looking for. In an earlier post I included a photo of my living room in a state of disarray. One evening this week my son, Mark, told me he had four friends coming over and he wanted to clean up the living room so they could hang out there.

I quickly helped him clear the room of anything that didn't belong in it, and put those items in my bedroom. It was so easy to do that I wondered why I had been procrastinating. (See the new photo.) Since I then had to clean up my bedroom, I packed up things to get rid of and put them in my car, to disperse the next day.

Agonizing over the best way to dispose of something trips me up when I work on decluttering. I hesitate to throw something away in the trash, as there is no "away"; things simply get buried in the ground or piled in a heap.

So I need to make better decisions about what I acquire in life, for several reasons. First of all, I want to acquire things of value to me, not just get something because it's free, or easy to get, or available. Then I want to make sure I'm not holding onto things I don't want or need, things that do not serve me well or are not good for me.

Having removed the clutter that keeps me from seeing things clearly, I can concentrate on keeping those things of value, which means I am less likely to lose something important to me. There will always be loss, but I can do more to prevent the kind of losses that come from something being hidden from my sight.

This theory of clutter, loss, and taking care of things that matter extends to more than material goods. Time spent on busywork can be clutter, which causes the loss of time that could be spent on meaningful pursuits. Worry is mental clutter that keeps one's thoughts from setting tangible goals that could help transcend the worry and instead bring empowerment.

When someone comes into your life who is clearly good for you, it sometimes happens that you let clutter thoughts intrude, which discount the good by picking out the negatives and holding them up to the light at every opportunity. These distracting thoughts are what Richard Carlson wrote about in the entry "Stop Rehearsing Unhappiness" in his book (with Kristine Carlson), "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff in Love".

In all clutter, there is perhaps an insulating factor:   If my home is cluttered, I won't have to deal with people coming over to visit and highlighting my social awkwardness. If my mind is cluttered, I can put off setting goals because it's possible I might fail at them, so the mental clutter keeps me too busy to even start. If my clutter thoughts keep me from truly appreciating someone who loves me, I can shield myself from the vulnerability of really trusting a person who could cause me pain if they decided to stop loving me.

Humans are adept at surviving in the face of many hazards, but surviving is not the same as thriving. To thrive is to fully live and take risks that could bring joyful rewards. They key is sorting out the clutter that prevents us from taking those risks.

And risking, although scary and sometimes dangerous, may lead us to find some things that were lost. My heart says this alone is worth taking the chance.

He ate and drank the precious Words

"He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust." Emily Dickinson

Encouragement and love, like food and water, sustain us when we feel we can go no further. They boost us up and give us hope, of futures both imagined and never dreamed of. When lying in despairing ditches of our own digging, encouragement and love are the two hands that reach down to pull us out, up to daylight and fresh air so we can breathe deeply the cool soothing peace. Those hands caress us and calm us, encircling with a strong hug our fearful trembling insecurity, assuring us that all will be well again, that we are capable, wonderful, and cared for.

I am full of gratitude for the many people in my life who have shared their love and encouragement with me. The role of a single parent is much more difficult than anyone can describe, and if it were not for those who lifted me up when I was sliding backwards, I would not have survived these years with my sanity and heart intact. It could have turned out differently, I'm sure, either better or worse, but it turned out just the way it did for a reason - a reason I perhaps do not understand yet, but sometime in the future I may.

I have learned to be alone and most of the time not be lonely, in part because of maturity, in part due to the invisible web of people I know I could call on if I really needed to. I am grateful for every day I can wake up and breathe and feel my heart beating, knowing that I am full of love to give and can share it with as many people as I want. All of the love given to me in various forms over the years has taken residence in my soul and would like nothing better than to be given away again and again, never diminishing the supply I have yet to share.

I am rich beyond my wildness dreams because I often have an incredible happiness come over me for no particular reason, other than it just bubbles to the surface and I have to express it. It happened today, shortly after 3:00 in the afternoon. It is a feeling like being in love, without any uncertainty or dependence on another to ensure its existence. I am in love with the day, with living. I may not have that feeling constantly, but the fact that I have it at all, with no event prompting it, is a joy worth more than any material riches. It comes to me almost every day now, and when it does I smile and my arms want to be thrown out wide and my heart is full of love and I just have to say, "I am so happy!"

My life is not free from conflict or issues or stressful situations, and I sometimes long for someone to be my one love who will share devotion and opinions and my bed and my heart. So I don't have an answer to why I am so blissfully happy, so often, except that I know that if one is capable of loving, one will find a way, and I have. I have found a way to share my heart.

To all who have given me the precious words of encouragement and love, I thank you for your role in my spirit's robust revival. I love you all.

You Are Fantastic

I Love You