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Patience

“No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God . . . and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire and which will make us more like our Father and Mother in heaven.”
― Orson F. Whitney

 

It appears God has assigned some very specific lessons for me these past few weeks. His lesson plans seem to be very focused on teaching me the virtue of patience.

I was not being the most appreciative student today. I was feeling very annoyed, frustrated, and angry about some of the challenges that have come my way. I knew it was time for me to take some time away and work on gathering my thoughts and myself together.

Writing always soothes my restlessness. Thank God for that. I began to search for quotes and prayers about patience. My post begins with a quote I found and ends with a prayer. This prayer is written by Naomi Levy, originally titled, A Parent’s Prayer for Patience. Thank you, Naomi, I’ve adapted your prayer to my needs today.

When life tests me, teach me, God, how to respond with wisdom. When I grow irritable, send me patience. When my fury rages, teach me the power of restraint. When I become fixed in my ways, teach me to be flexible. When I take myself too seriously, bless me with a sense of humor. When I am exhausted, fill me with strength. When I am frightened, fill me with courage. When I am stubborn, teach me how to bend. When I act hypocritically, help me to align my deeds with my values. When mundane pressures threaten to overwhelm me, help me to remember how truly blessed I am. When I lose my way, God, please guide me on the road back to Joy, back to Love, back to Peace, back to You.  Amen

I am…

B…simply being…

Love and peace, Y’all.

 

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Country Life

“To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter… to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird’s nest or a wildflower in spring — these are some of the rewards of the simple life.”
― John Burroughs, Leaf and Tendril

It is finally feeling like Fall here in the hill country of Texas. The mornings are cool enough for a light sweater or jacket and the evenings are definitely chilly enough to pull out the Solo Stove Bonfire Pit and enjoy a fire on the back patio.

Our life is easy. Our life is simple. I am thankful every single day.

We tell time by the school bus and the Monday morning trash pickup. If the rest of the world was as punctual and dependable as these two parts of our lives, we would all be much less stressed. We have a colony of feral cats who are watched over by our neighbors, Lucy and Bill. For a person who is not a cat person, my attachment to these cats has surprised me. The white pelicans are migrating through on their way to the Gulf. The Cardinals have returned for the winter, serenading us at sunrise and sunset. Our herd of very healthy whitetail deer wanders through our yard throughout the day. The bucks are still in full velvet. Two handsome young bucks greeted me as I walked out the back door this morning. Evenings are quiet enough we can hear the bands playing at On The Rocks, a local bar and restaurant that overlooks Lake LBJ, while we watch the skies for meteors and satellites.

I continue to review the notes I made when I read Mariane Williamson’s book, Every Day Grace. I’d like to share another prayer of Mariane’s that was a powerful one for me. I hope it helps you as well.

Dear God, please show me the way. What thoughts do I need to think to be able to navigate my life at this point? What perceptions do I need? What insights will guide me? Who do I need to forgive? What parts of my personality do I need to look at? What changes do I need to make? Please come upon me and heal my life. Amen.

I am…

B…simply being…

I love Y’all.

Peace

 

 

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Every Day Grace

Oh…Mondays…

Just like retirement does little to change the excitement of a Friday afternoon, Monday mornings still have a certain “feel.” The feel of this Monday took on its own little bit of flair when I found myself sitting in my new favorite dentist’s chair. I really like and respect my dentist. Unfortunately, my neck and jaw do not feel the same.

Meaning it’s time to go to the prayer file and find something to share.

Thank you, Marianne Williamson, for this prayer shared from your book, Every Day Grace.

Dear God, I give you this morning. Please take away my despair of yesterday. Help me forgive the things that caused me pain and would keep me bound. Help me to begin again. Please bless my path and illuminate my mind. I surrender to you the day ahead. Please bless every person and situation I encounter. Make me who you would have me be. That I might do as You would have me do. Please enter my heart and remove all anger, fear, and pain. Renewal my soul and free my spirit. Thank you, God, for this day. Amen. 

I am…

B…simply being…

Love Y’all.

Peace

 

 

 

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The Zen of Cleaning

“When cleaning I do it the way people go to church—not so much to discover anything new, although I’m alert for new things, but mainly to reacquaint myself with the familiar. It’s nice to go over familiar paths.”
― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

I’ve been cleaning these past few days and I know my methods bewilder my husband. When I came across this quote, I had to smile. This describes the way I clean perfectly. As I dust here and sweep there,  I remember where each thing came from and who gave it to us. As I make my way from room to room, it fell like I am a participant in my own very personal cleansing ritual. At the end of the day, I am both tired and renewed.

Now, we are still making our new home our own as we create new, Texas-size memories. Our home in Colorado had over twenty years of history spread over the hardwood floors, walls, doors, and carpeting. Our New Year’s Eve parties were special each leaving its unique “footprints” in that space we called home. There were those little dents in the hardwood floor from a heel that lost its cap–special because the wearer was new to our house and was on her first date with our friend who would later become her husband. A faint stain left from a bottle of red wine that toppled over as we raised our glasses, toasting each other and singing Auld Lang Syne. And not to be forgotten, all those cute little dogs faces that’d flashed into my mind each time I oiled the heavy front door. All things I am so grateful for sparked by the very simple task of cleaning.

I wish you all a wonderful weekend. Stay safe and well.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love Y’all.

Peace

 

 

 

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A Lunch at Killians

“It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn’t use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like “What about lunch?”
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

I found this picture today as I was organizing my desk–AGAIN. It is a picture packed with memories.

It is a picture packed with memories.

The picture was taken sometime in the 1980’s. I’d recently divorced and this was the house I had to keep. I thought it was the most amazing little house on the planet. I loved this little place.

This picture was taken in the living room. The little wicker desk was my Dad’s sister, Ruby’s, and fit this space perfectly. What caught my attention today was what surrounded this desk. It was such a nice surprise, I had to share.

The macrame wall hanging and the plant hanger were gifts from my friend, Mary. When we downsized from our home in Colorado to our RV two-plus years ago, choices had to be made. These three items did not make the cut so I was so happy to find this picture.

While I smiled at the princess phone sitting on the desk and the little bottle of wine on the mantle,  I remembered a lunch date Mary and I made with each other shortly after we passed our boards. That was no small feat–we wanted to do something special.

Over the years we had shared our stories about going with our older relatives to a Tea Room for special occasions. Mary had gone with her Grandmother to the Tea Room at Killians in Cedar Rapids. I had gone with my great-aunt to the Tea Room at Brandies in Omaha. We both felt we had to have this type of experience again. So we dressed up and headed to Cedar Rapids the next day we had time off.

Cool. A road trip.

Mary picked me up and we headed to Cedar Rapids from Waterloo. It took us about two hours, arriving just in time for lunch. We did a quick pass through the store but our goal was lunch. We followed the signs to the Tea Room. There was no person to greet us–our first clue–so we found our own seats. We waited at our little table. We waited and waited.

There was one older waitress who was literally running from person to person. It was not busy–maybe three or four other people in the dining room–but she was working hard to cover a lot of square footage as quickly as she could maneuver.

This was not the Killians’ Tea Room Mary remembered and nothing like my memories of the Tea Room in Omaha. Even with the subdued lighting, we could see that the furniture was cracked and worn, the carpet threadbare, and there were none of the special touches we expected to see on the tabletops. No cloth tablecloths or napkins. No flowers. Nothing. We didn’t even see menus.

We were beginning to think we were invisible. Our waitress, whose name I remembered for a long time, would glance our way but not venture further. Maybe she thought we’d leave? Well–she did not know the two of us–we had talked about this lunch forever. We’d driven all the way down from Waterloo for this lunch. We weren’t going anywhere.

With a head shake and a loud sigh, she headed our way. Head down, arms swinging, order tablet flipping back and forth in her hand. As she got closer, she put her hand in her pocket, took out two short yellow pencils, turned her order pad around, and threw all of the above at our table.

With a tone of voice that told us not to ask any questions, she said, “Write what you want!”

We’d been watching her but were still caught off guard. Quickly, we each grabbed the different flying objects. We quickly decided it was smart to just write down something that would be fast and easy. I remember writing grilled cheese sandwich–so much for special. Whatever we had, we ate quickly and got out of there fast.

We still laugh about that day. I wish Mary was sitting here beside me so she could fill in all those details I am forgetting.

Little did we know that this was just the beginning of many years of experiences like this. Thank you, Mary, for being one of the best things that ever happened to me. God bless you.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love and peace, Y’all.

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Place of Refuge

“A library is a good place to go when you feel unhappy, for there, in a book, you may find encouragement and comfort. A library is a good place to go when you feel bewildered or undecided, for there, in a book, you may have your question answered. Books are good company, in sad times and happy times, for books are people – people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.”

[Letters of Note; Troy (MI, USA) Public Library, 1971]”
― E.B. White

I’ve recently discovered podcasts and I absolutely love them. I’ve always been a fan of audiobooks. I could not have survived my daily commutes without my recorded books. I’m not sure it’s a good thing to say, but time flew as I listened to my stories while making my way to downtown Denver or wherever I needed to be that day.

These days, I’m not spending a lot of time in the car. Completing an audiobook now takes me weeks where it used to take me days. A few years ago there was quite a buzz about one specific podcast on one of the morning shows. I remembered that and thought maybe podcasts could be my new survival tool. The podcast creating all the excitement at that time was season one of Serial. If you haven’t listened to this podcast, you have to check it out.

This morning I was listening to the Good Life Project. The host, Jonathan Fields, was talking about how our world has gone digital, leaving those of us who are the touchers and the feelers feeling lost. My summary does not do his podcast justice but what it did for me was remind me of how I felt when I walked into the library here in our new community of Marble Falls, Texas. As I walked through the front doors, I felt such an overwhelming feeling of relief–like I had finally found something I’d been searching for for years. I’d found a place where I could physically walk up to a book, pick it up, smell the pages, and hear the sound of the pages turning. I was a tactile person deprived of touch.

My love for the library goes back to my early childhood. I loved books and visited the Traer Public Library as soon as I was old enough to have a library card. I remember holding my Mom’s hand as we walked up what seemed like hundreds of steps so we could talk to the libraian and get my very own library card.

Going to the library was a true event. The library was a large brick structure with high double entry doors, windows that symmetrically covered the front part of the building, and a long, long, long series of steps that marked the progress made into this very special world of books. It didn’t matter how many times I made this journey, I was always excited to reach the top, pull open the heavy front door, and twist myself inside before the wind gusted the door closed behind me.

No matter what else was going on in my life, whenever I walked through those doors, I was in a world where I could explore and escape. It was my refuge.

My Kindle is priceless because I can carry my entire library with me wherever I go. I would not want to give that up. But, rediscovering the public library was even more precious to me. After listening to Jonathan this morning, I see why walking through the front door that day was such an emotional experience. With those few steps, I was transported back to my first library visit where I’d found my place of personal refuge.

I am…

B…simply being…

I love you.

Peace

 

 

 

 

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Saint Francis

I am sure tomorrow will be a better day for storytelling.

Actually, today’s storytelling went well–things fell apart as I hit the “publish” button. As I hit that, my story disappeared. Poof!

Could it be a pre-Halloween thing?

So, once again, I went to my prayer collection. What a great find–on the top of the stack was my favorite, the Prayer of Saint Francis.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

I am…

B…simply being…

May God bless us all.

Peace

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A Prayer Shared

There are some days that test you. Today was definitely one I’d call a “testy” one.

My mind is tired.

Which makes it a great time to share a prayer I found a few days ago. I’d been looking through an old book when a worn little scrap of paper fell away from the back few pages. I recognized my handwriting but did not see where I’d noted an author or where I’d found the prayer. I hope the author won’t mind my sharing.

My prayer for you today, my friend, is for God to bless you with a heart full of patience and understanding. May your eyes be open to the beauty and opportunity given to you every day. May your mind be full of wonder and awe. 

May God bless us all.

I am…

B…simply being…

Peace

 

 

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Gratitude

“The happiest people on earth are not those who have robust bank accounts, or all the good things in this world; but, they are those who truly embrace the attitude of gratitude. Some of these folks are poor, but are still very grateful for the little they have; for the peace of mind they enjoy, for the love in their lives, for the unity in their family and for all the ordinary things many people take for granted. They always focused, not on the things they are aspiring for, but for all the things God has used to bless their lives.”
― Sesan Kareem

I’m learning about gratitude.

I’m now nearly a month into the renewal of writing my daily pages. I am thankful for the purpose and direction this practice has given my daily life.

I am thankful for the constant support Michael has given me as I stumble into the office each morning to write those pages and sequester myself there in the afternoon writing my stories.

I am thankful for those who have found my blog and offer their encouraging words–many taking the time to do so daily. You are my angels and give me such joy.

I am thankful for the memories that surface and the insight that accompanies them.

I am thankful for the spark of passion that’s returned to my life, giving me a new perspective and vision which opens my eyes to the many opportunities available to me.

I am thankful for the courage that enabled me to take the risk of putting my words out into the world.

I am thankful for the opportunity to learn and grow.

I am…

B…simply being…

Stay patient. Be kind. Pray for each other.

Most of all, know you are loved.

Peace

 

 

 

 

 

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Fred Lessons

For the past few days, I’ve been talking with a friend who’s thinking about getting a dog. She is well aware that this is not a decision to take lightly. For me, it is hard not to push hard because I really want her to have a dog in her life.

As we’ve talked, I’ve thought back on the dogs I’ve had over the years. Thankfully, most were in my life for a very long time. All but Fred.

As I talked about Fred today I realized she’d taught me a lesson all those years ago. I am so surprised that I did not really appreciate that until today. While it is still fresh in my head, let me tell you the story of Fred and me.

I’d always wanted an Old English Sheepdog. This is not an easy breed to find nor are they inexpensive. After searching for months, Chuck, now ex-husband, and I finally found a puppy we felt would be a good companion for us and for our other dog, Honey, a feisty miniature Poodle. The moment I saw the puppy, I just knew her name had to be Fred. Why I named a female puppy Fred, I don’t know. I just felt it was the cute, funny, and perfect. Just like I felt she was!

Looking back, I think that little energized puppy was trying to tell me something. From the first time we called to her, she never responded well to that name. I was so dead set on that name, I did not think her reaction may have been her way of trying to show me or tell me something. Now, I think this was her first and her consistent attempt to tell me that something was not right.

As far as Honey was concerned, Fred was another thing to tolerate. From day one, Fred was much larger. She ran and played hard but she never pushed Honey around. There were a few times when Fred grabbed Honey’s ears. After a few hard yanks, Honey let her know who, in no uncertain terms just who really was in charge!

These were days when both Chuck and I worked long hours. I was working days while he was working nights. Because of this schedule, the dogs did not have to be alone very much. Training a puppy is not the easiest thing but we were making progress. After a few weeks, I began to notice a different pattern. When I’d get home from work, Fred could not make it outside before she’d have had an accident in the house. As time went on, the distance she made to the door became shorter and shorter. After another month or so, she’d stopped even trying to get to the door. Off to the vet for us where we were assured she was okay. We just needed to be patient.

That was not so easy for me. I was getting frustrated. After working all day and rushing home, we seemed to be going backward in the housetraining department. Fred seemed to sense my frustration. She would show some improvement for a day or two, only to start the pattern all over.

One one very cold, snowy night, I came home to a clean house. No accidents. I took both dogs outside and was thrilled. As if fixed dinner, I turned to see Fred squatting beside one of my large houseplants. I’m not proud to tell you, I started screaming at her. I ran and grabbed her face in both my hands and looked into her eyes. I asked, “Fred, why did you do that?” Her answer was quick and strong. She took both of her front paws and scratched her dew claws down both of my arms.

Our eye contact did not break. We both knew that this was not going to work. Chuck and I decided we needed to let Fred go. We placed an ad in the Sunday paper. Early that snowy Sunday morning our phone rang. The person calling told us he was calling for friends who were deaf. His friends saw our ad and wanted her, sight unseen. They would bring the cash that morning. When could they come get her?

Well…that was fast.

My whole being knew that what we were doing was the right thing to do. At the appointed time, there was a knock on the door. All four of us went to the door, my ex, me, Honey, and Fred. The couple at the door smiled as they handed us the money. As this was happening, Fred made her way to the door, stepped forward, and waited for them to hook up a leash. In a matter of seconds, all three of them were trudging away through the snow–no hesitation–no one looked back. As the snow fell harder, they simply disappeared.

What did Fred teach me?

She taught me that my idea of choosing a dog was all wrong. I’d always thought I chose my dogs. I now know–Fred taught me–they chose me. I believe that there is some other, higher level of communication between dogs and humans. Dogs are more aware of this than humans. I now believe think a dog knows the minute they see us whether or not we are the human for them.

I understand now more than ever how important it is to think hard before you begin to search for a dog. Are you really aware of the level of responsibility you take on when you bring a dog into your life? A dog brings it all to this game called life. You must be ready to give your all to them as well. It’s part of the deal.

Oh…if we could all love each other like our dogs love us. Heaven must be like that…

Speaking of love, please focus your prayers on California. How is it possible that each week I ask for prayers for so many different disasters. Our world feels like it’s spinning faster and faster into some unknown dimension. If there was ever a time when we need each other, it is now.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love and peace, Y’all.