100 Happy Days-- Day 3

So simple, and such a nice start to the day.

100 Happy Days-- Day 2

On a rainy January morning, this morning beach walk a few months back brings some virtual sunshine.  Nothing like the sound of the ocean and watching baby seagulls skedaddle up and down the sand.

100 Happy Days- Day 1

A couple of years ago, I started to record one happy thing for 100 days.  That lasted about four days before the distractions of life stopped my blogging.  This is not to say that gratitude isn't part of a daily practice, but I never got around to sharing what I was feeling.

It's 2017, and still January, early enough to propose a new year, and a new habit.  Let me know your daily happy thing and let's see if we can stick with it this time.  Doesn't have to be long.  The older I get, the less words I find I need.

Day 1:  My Happy Thing

This is Riggs.  He's our almost 5 year old toy Maltese.  As you can see, he has an IV in him and he's looking pretty worried.  Four days ago he was diagnosed with Lymphoma.  Not two weeks ago his life was a dream, chasing squirrels, running around like crazy, lapping up love and spreading it like there was no tomorrow.  And suddenly, there might not be another tomorrow for him.  

Riggs is being cared for by an incredible team, including Anne Robbins, the trainer/boarder/nurse where he was staying when she noticed he just wasn't quite right, my friend, Lisa Salvatore, who has guided me on raising a dog since day one, Mill Plain Vet and Dr. Paul Mihak.

I am grateful for what Riggs has taught me about life.  To live in the moment.  To not hold back the love and enthusiasm I feel in my heart and spread it abundantly.  That there is nothing which makes people feel more special than sharing an infectious joy.

I am very thankful today for Riggs and for the people who have cared for and about him so generously and will be part of his "new normal.  What's your happy thing today?

No "How To" Guide for Raising Children....

My daughter turned 26 today.  For the first time in twelve years,  I was in town for her birthday and having a mother/daughter pre-birthday dinner last night.  Being a major "foodie", asking where she would like to go to dinner does not result in an off the cuff or accidental answer.  It's a delightful and loaded question for her, and one that took so much thinking that we actually weren't able to score a reservation.  It was pouring outside and no place we stopped could take us until after 10 p.m. (Seriously people, it was a work night.  10 p.m.?)

Slightly water logged, we settled in to a restaurant a few doors down from her apartment.  With daughters, you often don't know where a conversation will go, depending, most often on their state of mind and latest sequence of events.  It could be a superficial discussion of fashion, catch up about friends or family, or, like last night, a rainbow of topics from reflections from her first year as a post grad student to what happened in Paris last week.

Now I am here to tell you, with no sugar coating, that we have had our share of what my daughter terms, "Epic Battles."  It was  middle school, and  the battle began the moment we got in the car for school.  I would say the same thing every day:  "Don't change the radio channel."  I kept on a Christian pop radio station that I thought would help get the day off on the right foot.  Not-a.  Bingo.  She'd settle into the passenger side and flip the dial.  HIP HOP.  RUDE, LOUD, ANNOYING Hip Hop.  You can imagine what the ride to school was like after that.  Will against will.  Steel no less.  And that about says it all for the next eight years which put together a mom who was decisively "square" her whole life, and a daughter who didn't see the point in missing even an inch of fun.

Do you clamp down, lay back, hold the line or give some rope?  The answer is as individual as trying to figure out one thing and one thing only:  What will help bring this person to the best version of herself that she can be?  And more:  What will bring her along the path that aligns with God's?  There's no primer with an answer.  Tried one thing, didn't work, tried another.  Talked to people more skilled at teenagers than me.  Fought, made up, tried again... and so it went.

Somehow, we got to 26.  And she has leapt back to the amazing qualities that defined her as a child: Enthusiasm, spirit, sensitivity, an eagerness to learn, and a sense of playfulness. Along with something else.  The wisdom of having tried and learned.  Made mistakes and gained.  

What's all this got to do with you?  Maybe you have someone in your life that you are in an Epic Battle stage with.  Or just plain can't get along with.  Possibly can't see eye to eye.  Don't give up.  Twist and turn the situation on its head.  Try one thing and another.  If you do it all with love, good intention and surround yourself with people who might know a thing or two more than you on managing tricky relationships, it will all work out.  You just may be a bit grayer by the end of it!

Metro North Misunderstanding

She was running down the street screaming like her hair was on fire.  Weaving back and forth across the busy street, I was sure she had either had a little too much afternoon indulgence or was suffering from a mental illness.  Folks stepped aside as she ran past, and I wanted to do the same-- I had only a few minutes to grab lunch at Catch a Healthy Habit as I had run very late in my morning appointment.  The screaming was getting to me and I stepped outside the shop and into her path.  

"What's wrong?" led to a frantic half crying, half screaming tale of Lita and her suitcase getting on the MetroNorth in Bridgeport to meet a friend in Long Island.  Asking the conductor in Fairfield if she had time to hop off and get her return ticket and hearing she did, she stepped off the train.  Only to find the doors close behind her and the train and her suitcase proceed southbound.  

"Let's jump in my car and beat the train to Stamford!" I suggested, and we did just that.  Christian music was playing on the car radio which opened up the conversation and led to a drive of shared prayer.  Traffic had been terrible on I-95 but God, luck or both, prevailed and we beat the train to the Stamford station by 8 minutes.

Lita let me know that she was reunited with her suitcase. "My pastor told us that angels would be unleashed this Christmas season, thank you for being one of mine!" she said as she left the train.

My Christmas Gift

On December 28th, it will be the one year anniversary of my wife's passing.  The week before she passed, we attended a Taizé Candlelight Service at her church, which was something she very much wanted to do.  She had battled cancer for four years and was known for digging deep, and did once again, finding the strength to attend the service despite her rapidly declining health. 

For weeks this year, I have felt an urging to attend the Taize service.  I have not been back to the church since my wife's memorial service, but felt her guiding me to attend the Taize.

 A little history of our Christmases together:  I am red/green color blind.  Sensitive to this reality, my wife would always incorporate something blue into our Christmas--   one year a blue ornament, another year blue wrapping paper, a blue bow, a blue card and even a blue sweater.  So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I walked into the Taize service last night only to find the most amazing Christmas tree on the altar-- covered top to bottom in  blue lights.   It was spectacular.  Once again, my wife managed to give me the typical blue Christmas gift.. this spectacular tree. 

The blue Christmas tree has put a new light and face on my Christmas, changing it from one of avoidance to that of joy.  A photo of the tree is on my phone's wallpaper and is a daily reminder of the spirit of the season and knowledge that my wife is thinking of me from the other side.  The best gift I could ever receive!  

Posted by a friend

Offertory Gifts

Shared by a friend:

On Sunday, May 18^th, 2014 I attended Mass with my two children.  Due to their busy schedules, it was rare that we could attend Mass together.  I was grateful.  As we arrived at the church my children were asked by the usher to bring the gifts up during the offertory, which they agreed to do.  

As I knelt to pray, I suddenly realized how special the request was – May 18^th was the 26^th anniversary of my mother’s death.  The last time my children were asked to bring up the offertory gifts was August 26^th, 2013, my mother’s birthday.  Coincidence?  No!  God had given us such a gift on both those days.  As we left church on May 18^th, I asked the usher why she had chosen my children to carry up the offertory gifts.  Her response was that she saw something in their faces and that God wanted her to ask them.  I explained that it was the anniversary of my mother’s death.  She was grateful I had told her for she now understood why God had her ask them.  Thank God for his wonderful winks!