Too Young

My son's friend, a young man of only 22, was stabbed to death last weekend.

It's past three a.m., sonny boy just home from the viewing. I am downstairs awake and getting an ice pack for my aching head when he comes in.

My son's grief is palpable. The fumes of his anguish fill the room. The liquor of his sorrow oozes from his pores. His morphine, "the drink," does actually very little to sooth him. The pain, a monster that swallows him whole, takes him to a dark place.

As his mother, I stand back, helpless, largely to give him comfort. I murmur soft words, hug him, gently touch his head. I can only point him towards that One who bears our griefs and carries ours sorrows, but he must approach this Man of Sorrows, I cannot take him there.

I think of his friend's mother, and my mind flees in horror from all she must be
feeling.

Reflexively, selfishly, I keen a silent prayer, for my son. Oh Jesus, keep him safe, keep him safe, sweet Jesus, keep him safe.

Each day, I know, is a gift we are given. Sometimes, cruelly, life is snatched and brutally cut short.

Absent of sleep now, I pray long and low for those in my son's friend's family who face this unbearable loss. I pray for mercy, for comfort, for strength, for grace upon grace.

This young man, was too young, just too young to die.

Family Ties

I love my family.

The times we are together something inside me jumps for joy. The ties of love grow and change.

The nieces and nephews, are now mostly married or partnered up, some have children of their own. These "children" (my nieces and nephews) now adults, the ones into whom I've poured my love and have always delighted in...they are sweet and so very special.

My brothers, greying...one thin and tired looking, the other expansive and booming. Yet, both so very loved.

My sister far away from us, (in another province), she leaves a hole in the wholeness of the day. I miss her, pine for her, even. Yet, her distance is a given. The times we have actually together...few and sometimes years apart. Still, the bond between us - unbreakable.

I celebrate these ties, these connections and I am thankful for them.

Happy morning

Some days are blessed with happy laughter, family jokes and the warmth of affection ...this morning we had all of this. And it was precious.

My mind snapshots these moments, freeze frames them in my memory... then stores them.

Later I can take them out gloat over them, and revel in the luxury of this time when we felt that mystical oneness of family.

And so I am thankful.

Shhh...

Hushed, this moment. Quiet this night.

Black falls the curtain, white shines the light. The stars, pin-pricks sparkling. The moon, a saucer bright.

Drink deeply of the softness, breathe in the liquid peace.

Hushed is this moment. Quiet is this night.

Last day

I've been thinking about Sasha our sweet dog, who we had to say goodbye to a couple of weeks ago...and I've been thinking of what is like to know it was her last day with us as a family. How we all gravitated to the living room...each of us quietly doing our own thing...then in turn we would get up and go over to her...lie down beside her...pat her...bury our faces in our fur...whisper words of love and of longing to her. Words, which I'm sure comforted us as much as they comforted her...

These moments were precious, they are memories that we hold up to our hearts like blankets to sooth our souls when we are missing her gentle presence with us.

Then I was thinking, what would it be like if I knew it was my "last day"...or the last day of someone who I loved more than words can ever adequately express.

I was drawn back in time to the week and days just prior to the day my father died. The days before my mother died. How I miss them both...so very, very much. Each experience was so very, different. Dad died from heart troubles, fully cognizant, knowing the who, the why and the what. He had humour, gentle graciousness and he fought death tooth and nail. He would not give up, he would not give in. Even though we told him it was O.K., even though we released to his Heavenly Father's care. He was focussed on the now, and his love and his yearning for his family evident in his last words..."I love you all...tell my grandchildren I love them"... Then at last, failing, he turns towards my Mom, "Con, Con," he cries out. Then he breathes his last. We are heart-stricken, gently touching him, saying our good byes to the shell left, the father we had loved so very, very much. This last touch is powerful, poignant and utterly devastating. It is the final contact with this beloved man, our dad... daddy, daddy, how I miss you...

Mom had dementia, and this was tragic, horrible and pitiful. We lost her over the years by inches...slowly, agonizingly slowly. Her last days were ignoble, she was skeletal, incontinent, barely able to communicate...How we grieved the loss of this busy, productive, loving woman...I think in many ways she left her body before she died. The shell existing long past the essence of who she was had disappeared. Sick in body, that last day, (I had a vicious migraine), and sick at heart I went home to rest for a wee bit. I left Mom with my sister and sister-in-law who oh so gently and sweetly held her: and who murmured soft, loving words to her. Then Mom took her last breaths, and body and soul at last at one, ran into the arms of Jesus. Shortly after that we all gathered around her and again the litany of touch, the deep sorrow of final good byes. So often, so very often my heart cries out for "mom", "I want my mommy," I will say...missing her, her tender touch...her practical hands on help, just missing her...

So, I guess I'm saying if you know, you'll be there...hunkering down for the long haul, being there till the last possible moment. Soaking in whatever is left of that beloved one, turning them over to Jesus, and yes, oh yes, hanging on till you absolutely have to let them go...

And if you don't know??? Then you try with all that is within you to love well, to love now, to live each day intentionally, to keep, if you can, your quarrels short, to forgive as fully and completely as possible, to, as the James Taylor song says, "shower the people you love with love." And to, so very importantly, forgive yourself, on the days when you do none of the above well...Because we just do not know do we? And human beings are supremely the best at self-recrimination (at least I know I am) and death can be so abrupt, so sudden, so cruel and quick. Death seems so very, very final when we forget eternity. Besides eternity feels so very eternal on this side of heaven when you are missing someone you have loved and lost.

So gather your life and put it on like your favourite dress or suit and reach for the people you love - and live and love until that last day comes...

Fractured

Some days are better than others.

Some days it feels like I am splitting apart. Sense and nonsense. Round and round go my thoughts, chasing one another like a dog chasing its tail.

I am trying to retrain my brain...to think, to re-frame my circumstances, my feelings, my identity. It is hard work.

It feels like I am skiing...only I am trying to ski backwards and uphill.

Some days are tortured by insecurity, of not being adequate enough. I beat myself up, either I have not accomplished enough in my practical everyday life or I have not performed the mental gymnastics necessary to change/alter the way I am thinking. This does not help.

What helps, is, actually, thinking different thoughts. It is interior re-programming. The self-talk changes. Feeds on truth. Soaks up cheer. It is faith for the moment. Replace one thought, then the next and so on. It is finding a "mantra" and pressing the play button. It is affirming and life-giving.

It is being aware that wholeness is a lifelong procedure and process. It is allowing myself to fail, and then to begin again the next day. It is knowing the truth. I am loved. I am valued. I am precious to God. I can do and be all things or do nothing at all and be/still have love and value.

It is knowing that struggle and growth, this cocooning metamorphosis is common to humankind. That there is no sense in pretending that I am always "all together." Sometimes it is better to fall apart and then get up tomorrow and start putting the pieces back together. Painstaking as it may be, this is the work.

Fractured, and then healing. Onward I go.

Goodbye is the Hardest Word

This past Wednesday we bid farewell to our sweet and gentle Sasha. She was part collie and part Siberian Husky. She was beautiful in body and in temperament.

We have spent 13 years together. She has given us moments of delight, moments of pure comfort, moments of fun and laughter.

A true companion, playmate for our kids, walking buddy for my hubby. For me, she provided a listening ear, hours of company, a gentle loving presence.

Because she was remarkably pretty, she always drew compliments from people when she would be out on a walk.

Those soulful brown eyes, so sad if we would have to go out and leave her by herself. Yet, also, upon our return, the happy greeting, wagging of tail and kisses for us.

I'll never forget our son's expression, for whom we bought Sasha, the first time he laid eyes on her. The delight, the bliss, the pure unadulterated happiness. Truly, a boy's best friend. Now, 20, the boy, now a man, still passionately connected to this sweet creature. The boy/man weeps tears of loss. Poignant, deep is his sorrow.

Our daughter, has never known life without Sasha's presence. So, she looses too, her "little sister", her furry keeper of childhood secrets. Her tears too, ocean deep.

The chapter turns. This part of the story over.

Sad and final.

New day

Quietly, I sit soaking in the moments of this new day.

The sun pours in my kitchen window, lemon warmth, and bright. The sky a soft haze of blue: wispy, the clouds streak lazily hushing the brilliance of the day.

I take this gift, a moment of peace. Breathe deeply of this solace.

This day stretches out before me, it will unfold like silken material from a bolt of fabric. Unsure, as always of what this day will hold, I am grateful for this time. I reflect with gratitude on all that is rich and good in my life...I hug these thoughts closely.

A new day.

I go forward to greet the possibilities.

Growing Soul

How do you grow a soul???

A flower opening, petal by petal....or is it an onion....layers peeling away, one by one...

What is down there? In there? How do I get to it? Explore it, learn from it, change it?

Do the tears I weep water it?

Do the hurts I feel warp it or do the hurts provide the fuel to warm myself on a cold night?

Can I escape from the violence of emotion enfolding me, chasing me?

Or do I stop, turn full on, and embrace all that haunts me, taunts me.

How do you grow a soul?

Do you examine it? Get the microscope out? Or step back and look at "the big picture."?

Do you dance in the moment and laugh with glee???

How do you put the pieces of puzzle together? Bright sky here. Dark clouds, here. Riotous color of garden, here. Rain shower, here. Piercing warmth of the sun, here.

How do you grow a soul?

Breathe deep of life, face the agony, revel in joy...refuse, however tempting it may sometimes be, to invert, close up, shut down.

How do you grow a soul?

One step. Just one step. At a time.

Begin again.

Your words like acid
burn my skin.

I reel back, breath knocked out,
a balloon pin-pricked.

It is I think the accumulation
of years of anger.

It is also years of hurt,
one brick of scathing words upon another.

Later, you apologize and I
forgive.

Yet still we are two people locked in
their own prisons of pain.

How to move forward?
Release the anguish...

Another day comes
Fresh with possibilities.

Each day filled with choices
that I must make.

Today will I walk toward
you with an open hand?

Heart-wounded, yet so very
full of the deepest love.

I turn to the One,
beaten, scorned, spit upon.

There my example
stands, full of mercy.

I, the one who in my turn
scorned, and spit upon You.

Yet You, always, with arms open,
take me in, wrap in me Love.

How can I then not
do the same?

Beloved, this one who
hurt me.

I choose to love, move
on, move past.

I choose a new beginning,
push through the barriers.

I take you in, I wrap you
in my love, faulty though it is.

And so I carry on,
reaching for you, not turning away.

Broken and bruised
yet always hoping, healing will come.

Attentiveness

I just read the most amazing article.

One of my friends posted it on Facebook. It is called the "Aesthetics of Attentiveness" and it is about a woman who survived a heart attack at 49 years old. She is an art Professor.

Here are the parts that struck me:

"For a year, recovering was Erica’s sole occupation. “Your body doesn’t allow you to do anything,” she explains. “For months I would simply follow the sun through the house and sit in patches of sunlight. I can’t tell you how infrequently in my life I’ve sat in the sun on the porch.”

A woman accustomed to tackling any task presented to her by sheer dint of will, Erica initially resisted such an abrupt stop — attempting to go in to work or to paint. But, she found, “My body let me know on no uncertain terms — as one realizes when one’s pregnant — that there are bodily limitations. I learned the degree to which I needed to listen to my body and how much I had really stopped doing so.” Upon order of her doctor, Erica spent those 12 months paying attention — to her body, to the beauty of life and nature, and to every small, ordinary moment. “It was a process of listening and prayer. I learned that there is no such thing as the mundane, for one thing. I learned how incredibly beautiful every gesture is; to take nothing for granted — no day, no set of eyes — everything is a gift; to trust circumstances that God places you in; and to listen.”

Here Erica pauses in her storytelling. Emotion bubbles to the surface and her vibrant eyes turn glassy as she considers, “It was a year of realizing that we are surrounded at every moment by indescribable beauty, and unfathomable suffering, and profound joy.”

When a colleague gave Erica 30 sheep-skins, she resolved to make parchment from them, filming the process and integrating it into her artmaking. The process of shearing the skins, says Erica is not unlike healing from her heart attack: “It felt like an inward shearing and culling—stripping layers that were unnecessary, in order to become more real.”

This attentiveness, she explains, referencing the philosophers Simone Weil and Iris Murdoch, is the first step in living a moral life. It is essential in honing our ability to hear and see God in daily life — to deepen our prayer and meditation. Being attentive to things outside of ourselves moves us beyond what she calls ‘solipsistic self-preoccupation’. Without paying attention, she says, “we only live on the surface and don’t ever become who we are fully intended to be. We can never be honest or self aware.”"

As a person who has suffered from a chronic illness most of my adult life and has also developed as couple of other health problems, this article was stunningly encouraging to me. For years I had felt bad about being "sick", guilty even, like I was spoiling other people's lives or ruining their good times. This simply is not true. I did not pick the conditions I have and I certainly have sought all kinds of help to control them. But, I have always pushed myself...tried to keep on going, put on an act, or took medication that would enable me at the very least to show up in many of life's moments.

In the past few months, however, I have been paying "attention", respecting and honoring my limitations. Listening to my body. Stopping. Laying down if I have to... and it really has made a difference. There is less actual time lost to these various conditions. I have learned the value of empathy, compassion, quietness. I have learned to be grateful when I am well. I am learning to be happier (on ongoing project), to be content. Like Erica says, "we are surrounded by indescribable beauty, and unfathomable suffering and profound joy."

Also, as a stay at home Mom, I found Erica's word's "there is no such thing as the mundane...how incredibly beautiful every gesture is; to take no thing for granted - no day - no set of eyes - everything is a gift; to trust the circumstances that God places you in; and to listen." - this was so uplifting to me. As a Mom, so much of life seems repetitive, and mundane, yet, indeed, each moment is rich with meaning, and each moment a gift I'm given - to work in, to live in, to celebrate and yes, at times painful and full of suffering.

As Erica says, as we pay attention, we become more "real", more self-aware and more able to be all that we are intended to be, limitations notwithstanding!

So I am thankful today. For this day, with the sun shining, for this day, with its attendant pain, for this day, for all the people who mean so much to me. For this day, because it is gift.

I lift up my cup, I toast my life...

Thank you, God, for all it...for all the joy of loving, for all the pain of suffering, for all the rich lessons I am learning.

Thank you.

P.S.

Here is a link to the entire article I have referenced -

The Aesthetics of Attentiveness | Issue No. 18 - Trinity Western Magazine

www.twu.ca

Part of Happiness...Feel what you feel even if it's not what you want to feel...

So, I am struggling.

I am being bombarded by hormonal torture....flung about on an emotional roller coaster, screamingly down, whipped around the corner and then up, up into the air, then down, down, down...UGH!

My husband thinks (here I'm guessing, but am probably correct) that someone has kidnapped his formerly cheerful wife and replaced her with a Hormonal Hag... This periomenopause, menopause thing is awful!

My struggle is to overcome this and to continue to maintain an attitude of cheerfulness. Shoot, who needs the pressure of "if mama ain't happy ain't nobody happy." I am wishing that others would pitch in and help me out. Someone help. Please.

The relief comes from knowing that part of happiness is to "feel what you feel even if it's not what you want to feel." So, I have to accept this ride I'm taking, hormonal bursts of hell, but goodness gracious, I do not want to drown in this black sea of moodiness.

So, I scrape myself up off of the ground, vent occasionally and verbosely to a good friend, mutter under my breath all sorts of yuckiness and then give myself a good shake and get silly!

Get silly, get silly, ya, ya, ya.

I have discovered that when you get silly, you can get happy or at the very least happier than you were!

So, I burst out in operatic song, do a little dance, shake my bootie and just generally act up...it's great therapy and I highly recommend it.

So, dear husband and sweet daughter, I hope you find it in your heart's to forgive the Hormonal Hag her agonies and go on loving and putting up with me while I try to navigate this ocean of uncertainty. I do love you both immensely and completely and maybe we can all work together to keep our home a "happy one."

It is a circle you know the attitude, adjust it, adjust it, adjust it...round and round we go. Each time we circumvent the circle the more we are able to decide that just for the next moment and the next, and the next, we will choose...to smile and to be....yes, you got it, happy.

Happiness project continued...boundaries...permeability and nit picking night and day...

Well, last Sunday, we had what I have come to call more "adventures."

How I see my life, affects how I react to the situations in my life and thus affects my "happiness quotient."

The day started in the wee hours of the morning, around say 4 a.m., the phone rang. Perhaps by now if you are regular reader of this blog you will know or perhaps guess who that phone call was from??? Yes, it was my sonny boy. He was distressed, he and his girlfriend had broken up. She had apparently broken up with him and he was dislodged in the literal sense of the word. Could I pick him up later in the morning he wondered? I agreed.

I crawled back into bed and began a litany...Oh, God, oh God, oh God...what am I going to do??? What are we going to do??? Do I have to put my son on the streets? Can I realistically offer him sanctuary??? What will hubby think when he wakes up in the morning???? I repeated my litany, a prayer in every sense of the word, oh God, oh God, oh God...help me...help us.

Funnily enough, I eventually fell back to sleep. The phone rang again about 7:30 a.m. I answered and then off I went to pick him up. He was exhausted and very unhappy.

He was greeted enthusiastically by our little girl. Oh how his sister loves him... Hubby was still in bed, perhaps he was digesting this turn of events while he lay there.

In a while the three of us ended up on the deck talking about his situation, his feelings, his circumstances, his conundrum. We gave him our ear...hubby asked some pointed questions which were received with some hostility. Thankfully, hubby realized the state sonny boy was in and backed off with the questions and offered a sounding board and affection. This made me so very glad. We are learning all of us, the delicate art of reading one another, and of responding in a way that builds bridges and not walls.

Step-parenting has been I think for my husband, a bit like walking on jagged glass and only time and developing wisdom has made the path paved with gravel at least and maybe even smooth paving some days and moments. I am immensely proud of my husband and his consistent efforts to be a better person, husband, step-father and dad.

After some more time, it is now only my hubby and myself who sit on the deck. Now the really big question comes. Can we give sonny boy some time to get on his feet I ask hubby, breath held, my motherly heart aching with all the complications of navigating loyalty to my husband and loyalty to my son.

Open-hearted, to my great relief and to my delight he agrees. Carefully, we construct boundaries. This is dangerous ground for both of us, we know the powder-keg that exists within my son's present make-up, his volatility, his changes of mood, the potential chaos that lurks under the surface of my dear son's hurts and how they have played out in the past. We love him desperately, deeply, yet we must not allow our home to become what we have fought long and hard for it to be...a place where there is peace and cooperation.

I saw a picture on one of my niece's blog's recently. It was absolutely adorable. It showed her son peeking out from behind a baby gate and the caption read, "keeping the little man safe." In that moment as I looked at the picture and the notation, it crystallized and formed an incredibly poignant word picture. The baby gate is a boundary for my niece's son and it's purpose is to keep him safe. The baby gate also protects my niece and her husband. With the baby safely within that boundary, they are safe from the dangers that may accost their son and from consequences for both their baby and for themselves. The boundary protects both the child and the parents.

So it is with the boundaries I place in my life and in the lives of my children. They keep us safe. If we feel the need, we can tighten the boundaries, make them more solid. If however, we feel safe and know that or hope/believe there is the possibility for change/growth, we can choose to make the boundaries more permeable.

One day my niece and her husband will not have to have baby gates, they will trust their boy with boundaries that increase as he grows and matures.

So, we presented our son with our list...offered him temporary sanctuary that could possibly, we said, become more permanent if there was compliance and we could all get along. He agreed. They were not easy things we asked, but he is an adult now and they were reasonable.

As the day wound on, he later called his girlfriend and they "made up."

We had suspected this would happen and supported him, still giving him the option to be here if he needed to be.

During the day, there was some bouncing back forth in the decision making process for him but eventually he settled that he would be her and we left it at that.

I was so very, very glad that we were able to offer him an open door, that he could hold that in his heart and remember that always, always, he is loved, he is wanted. Boundaries would have to exist- but we were here, he belongs and it is his choice that he is where he is now.

In the midst of this we get a phone call from our daughter's friend's mother. Her daughter has lice and since my child and hers just had a sleepover at their place a few days earlier we had better do a head check.

Much to our distress, sure enough sweet cheeks, has it. The dreaded lice.

The battle begins, loads and loads and loads and loads of laundry. Vacuuming of beds, and furniture is done. Bags and bags of stuffed animals and extraneous bedding is bagged and sealed to suffocate the little buggers. And the hunt for lice - the nit-picking begins. A tedious, unpleasant, long task takes place, again, again and again.

We buy a special magnifying light. We are not as young as we used to be and our eyesight even with our glasses doesn't provide enough illumination for the task. We purchase a special shampoo. We research the internet and try not only the pesticide route but the natural cures as well. Olive oil, tea tree oil, Avon's skin so soft. Our daughter's head is doused with these solutions and then faithfully, combed out and picked, picked, picked. Nervously, we check each other's head, fingers, eyes and toes crossed hoping that we will not also be afflicted with these pernicious little beasts as well.

It is an exhausting process. We are not pleased by this turn of events, but we determine to look at the whole thing as an adventure. I tease our daughter that she is having her hair done at a spa, we make deliberate efforts to lighten up, to encourage one another when the task gets irksome and believe me, it does. We watch old movies and I Love Lucy so that our attention is diverted during the long nit-picking sessions and so that we can laugh, laugh, laugh.

Don't get me wrong, there has been some weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. But, we have decided that we will look for and on the bright side.

We have discovered that happiness is contagious. If one of us is cheerful, sooner or later everyone else in our home becomes happier.

I discovered another word picture as hubby and I were out on the deck drinking our after dinner tea. It had been raining on and off all day and as I looked over to my left, I saw some blue sky and some delicately wispy clouds. "Look at the beautiful sky," I said to my hubby. He was sitting in the other direction and said, "yes, but look at the sky over there." It was darker and more foreboding, the rain was gathering in the clouds. So, what would we do, focus on the beauty of the blue sky pushing the rains away, or focus on the darkness?

That has been our choice all this week.

I am happier when I focus on the good, and more dragged down when I see only the darkness.

So, I am working and at times, it really is work, on shifting my focus, changing my attitude.

I am choosing happiness.

My Happiness Project - Keys I've found to being happy even when you have difficult people in your life...

Well, it's been a couple of weeks since I've posted anything.

We've had vacation and that has been wonderful!

Now we're in the summer swing of things...lazy days, getting up, doing the work-out, heading out to play or to run errands or visit with friends and family...good days for the most part.

During my vacation and the over last few weeks I've been thinking about the difficult people in my life. People that I cannot divorce myself from because they are people whom I care about deeply, intensely and personally. You should probably know that in this discussion I am not referring to my husband as a "difficult" person. We have certainly had our agonizingly rough times and I'm sure we've considered each other difficult at one time or another. We have, however, recognized the value of our love and commitment to each other and with hard work, counseling from time to time, lots of prayer and tips from respected people in our lives, persevered, and are at the present enjoying a relatively smooth relationship.

There are then, certain people whom I find difficult in my life. They are a continuous challenge to me and ceasing to see them at is not an option. So what do I do about them?

In my pondering I've come up with four steps that I have found helpful to me. These steps are really a result of years of trial and error and or counseling, but I think I've finally put together things that are a real and practical help to me. In my search for happiness, I've come to learn that people cannot be relied upon solely for my moment to moment happiness. Certainly, being with friends and family can bring immense satisfaction and pleasure, but then there are other times that well...what I think and what I do directly affects my happiness in relation to how I feel about a particular person or situation.

So here goes...

#1 - Accept the person as they are. It's a big job, but vital. I cannot change that person; nothing I say or do can alter someone else. Any change must ultimately come from the other person's inner motivation to change or some supernatural working of God on that person's life. I need to stop talking, crying, coaxing, wheedling, whining or attempting to manipulate. Period. In acceptance lies peace, an inner letting go. As the saying goes "Let go and let God." And by the way, I'm also trying to give up trying coax, plead, whine and attempt to direct God. The "let God" part is recognizing as C.S. Lewis puts it that God is "not tame." He is Incomprehensible, Sovereign and wholly Mysterious.

#2 - Forgive that person. If you have a difficult person in your life you know what I mean. If they're difficult, it means you've in all likelihood sustained considerable hurt at their hands. I need to release that person from any grudge I hold against them. I've heard it said that bitterness is the poison pill that kills you not the person who hurt you. If I don't forgive, I become bitter...trust me, I know. Bitterness destroys happiness! It destroys me. It sours my outlook on life. It brings depression and gloom. When I forgive someone who has hurt me, I open my heart to the possibility that they may someday change, it leaves me free to love them in a way that liberates me. Forgiveness gives me the power to look ahead and not to fixate on the past. It is important for me to remember that forgiveness does not mean giving the other person the right to continue to inflict pain upon me. I'll address that in my fourth point.

#3 - Change my attitude toward that person. I will determine to cease to let that other person control my days, my happiness, or my ultimate satisfaction with my everyday circumstances. Yes, they may say or do hurtful things, but I can and will choose my reaction to them. I will not give that other person the power to make me feel miserable for longer than it takes me to process their actions. I will be grateful for all the good things and people in my life. I will not let one person kill my joy. I will find things to be "glad" about. I will determine to adjust my thoughts to focus on the positive things in my life and not on the pain. Of course I will grieve, cry, vent when I need to, but I will not "live" there.

#4 - I will set up the appropriate boundaries so that I can maintain physical, emotional, and spiritual safety. This is an extremely important step. A counselor once said to me that we teach other people how to treat us. This was shocking to me but it was sadly true. For example, if get up early to drive my son to work, make him a good breakfast and he throws it out the car window because it wasn't just right and then get up the next morning and make him breakfast again what am I teaching him? I'm teaching him it's O.K. to be rude, ungrateful etc. etc. So, I need to say the next day I'm not making your breakfast today because...then walk away, not engage in any other conversation about it. It's never O.K. for someone to be physically, emotionally, verbally or spiritually abusive to me. I should not tolerate that or accept it as normal. I need to set up boundaries to protect myself from these kinds of interactions. Often we need help doing that. I've gotten help, please if anyone reading this suffers in this way, call a counselor, get some help. In learning to do so my self-respect has grown. I do not need to be any-body's victim. I can set boundaries in place so that I can relate to people who are difficult yet with whom I intend to be in relationship so that I can be safe!

These four steps have helped me recently more than once and I'm sure they will be of help to me again. They are steps that have in fact increased my overall happiness and for that I am grateful.

I have made some incredibly agonizing decisions in my life to ensure my physical, emotional and spiritual well-being. I divorced my first husband. I have had to ask my beloved son to live somewhere else (for reasons so very complicated and complex). I have left a church that was not healthy. I have had to hang up the phone when someone was cursing at me, leave a restaurant just before the dinner arrived, call the police, on and on it goes.

Yet, each time I do these things I become stronger, more sure of who I am called to be. I am woman, loved and valued by God. I have many people in my life who make happiness easy and those who do not. I am, however, determined to be a person who is happy. A person who meets life's challenges head-on. A lover of life and people, someone who inspires others to be the best that they can be. Someone who inspires others to be...happy....even when there are difficult people to deal with.

Holiday Happiness - Happiness Project-better late than......

I am late in writing this because we have been on vacation...

Now THIS is happiness...the sun, the sea, the ones I love (well some of them anyways), a perfect setting, delectably delicious food. No cooking for me or any other home-type responsibilities...what a lovely break.

I am not complaining, I enjoy being who I am (for the most part), and my life work, taking care of family and home and connecting with the community through my responsibilities at church are all things that are a good fit for me.

But I am loving this break. And this vacation is such a departure from the ones we usually take that it is pure delight.

We are sitting in the sun, reading our books. Zipping around the lake on the seadoo wind blowing in our hair. Paddling in the paddle boat with my little girl. Slicing through the water, feeling the cool refreshment lapping around our skin like gentle caresses. I don't have to think AT ALL about meals, or laundry or the packing and unpacking everything from linens, to food, to clothing, to medicines, etc., etc., etc.... We brought only clothes and swimsuits, just what we need to play in and we are fun, fun, fun.

I learned on day one that attitude is everything...the weather started out a bit iffy...but with gratefulness in mind and a determination to enjoy my holiday, it was like the attitude translated into the weather and everything became the loveliness I had wished for.

So, sometimes happiness just is...everything is the way we dreamed it would be.

I know that there will be storms ahead, that perfection is really just a myth, but for today, I am enjoying the bliss of now...and I am very...happy.

Happiness Project - What happened today...

I was planning on writing about another stair on the rung of my happiness ladder, but something has happened today. So, I am going to tell you about it and what I learned from it.

This morning I was in bed, the fog of sleep surrounding me, the light gently pouring in through the blinds, I was just barely on the cusp of wakefulness when I heard the phone ringing. It was still early, but there was an urgency in me when I heard the ring. I jumped out of bed ran down the stairs to grab the phone before it stopped. I got it.

On the phone his voice thick with gruffness was my son. He was calling from the hospital he said. He had been jumped and beaten up and had been in the hospital all night. Could I pick him up??? He was in the Oshawa Hospital. I tried to question him, did he know where exactly he was in the hospital so I would know where to get him? He didn't know, or seem to be clear at all, muffled curses streamed from his mouth. I said of course I would come. I was strangely calm.

I ran upstairs to quickly dress and wake up hubby to tell him I was going to the hospital. I also called some of my friends, for support and for their prayers.

I went to the hospital. They didn't have any record of him being there. They checked two more hospitals in the area, no one by my son's name. No John Doe's of his age or description. A coldness gripped my heart. I fought back the panic.

I went outside to make some calls on my cell. I called hubby, asked him to call the Scarborough hospitals. I called my son's girlfriend's house where he is presently staying. I am on their not favorite list now, so they did not pick up - but I left a message relaying the situation and desperately begging them to call me back it they had any information at all. A minute or so later his girlfriend's mother called me. She said they had had a message from my ex-husband that my son was in Toronto Western Hospital, I thanked her and called my hubby to call them and confirm that that was indeed where he was. And he was there. Not too long after that my son called, wondering where I was...I think he must have been concussed and confused when he called me the first time. I assured him I would come and get him.

I called my girlfriend and made arrangements for our daughter. I didn't know what condition our son would be in and didn't want her to be upset any more than she already would be knowing that he had been hurt. Thank God for my friends.

Hubby would come with me downtown, to drive in what is such unfamiliar territory and for moral support now that we had our daughter taken care of.

Another call from my son. It was taking a lot of time for us to get there and he is impatient. But you see they had closed down the express lanes and we had to detour south and pick up the Don Valley Parkway from another route.

He told me what had happened...he had gone to a club, left the club, more than rather worse for the wear. Taken a cab but realized that he did not have enough money, so the cabby made him get out of the cab. Being more than a little intoxicated he didn't see it coming - he was grabbed thrown done on the sidewalk, kicked in the face and robbed. He remembers little of that, only waking up people around him, he doesn't remember how he got to the hospital. I listen murmuring sounds of muted horror. I hate this. This is not the first time he has been beaten up. I am locked in a tunnel of calm, maybe even shock. Soon enough, we turn the corner and with him still on the phone, I tell him we are there. Hubby waits in front of the hospital, I get out and look for him. I see him and call his name. He comes towards me. His lips are badly swollen and cut, his nose is broken and bruised. We walk together to the van quietly talking.

He is safe. He is in one piece. He is alive. For this I am thankful. For this I am glad.

He makes light of the situation. "I'm only young once," he says. But at what cost is he expending this youth? This time rich with opportunity, with gifts of personality, strength of will, determination. All, I think, wasted. All his choices. For this I grieve; intensely and completely. Canyon deep, ocean wide....nothing contains this sorrow.

And yet I am able to step back. Play Pollyanna's game. I am glad that he is once again, safe, another narrow miss I think, but still it could have been much, much worse. I am glad that he has the gift of another day, another chance. I am glad we had some time together, in the van, he from the backseat, reaching over and occasionally rubbing my head, seeing that I am upset and trying to comfort me. I reaching back and patting him, reassuring him of my love. I am glad that he called me, that we connected.

I am deeply tired and sad. Yet what I have learned is that the pain we feel when we are hit by hard times is part of the happiness as a whole. We watch the suffering of those we love, whether by their own foolishness, or by life's cruel strokes, and we enter into their pain. It becomes our own. Yet we know that we cannot let the pain swallow us. If we do we too are
lost adrift on the sea. Rudderless, with no purpose. Yet purpose surely exists. There is tomorrow. A fresh new day. Full of wonders. Full of sunshine, and yes, full of storms.

I breathe in fully. My life is a gift. God-given. Each moment counted in tears and in laughter. I lift my voice in gratitude. I am here and tomorrow brings new mercies. I believe this with all of my heart. There are people to laugh with, people who willingly will also weep with me. There are people to love. Barriers to be broken down. Prayers waiting breathlessly to be answered.

There is most of all - hope.

And hope opens the door to happiness.

My Happiness Project -Sunday report - Pollyanna and me...

This week I experimented with gratefulness.

Each day I searched through my mind and the events of the day and worked on coming up with 5 things to be grateful/thankful for.

It was an exercise that taught me something. You can find things to be grateful for even if you've had a rotten day. It all depends on your focus.

Really, it was much like the renowned Pollyanna's glad game. Pollyanna is of course, the fictional character from Eleanor H. Porter's books. She is the child of missionaries who had been taught by her father to play the Glad Game, in which one goes about "finding something to be glad about in every situation." He had started the game with her when in a missionary barrel all that there was for her was a pair of crutches. There were no toys, no dolls, yet her father instructed her to "be glad" that she didn't need the crutches and so turned the potentially sad turn of events into something positive. This became a lifelong lesson that Pollyanna practiced and also taught those around her the value of looking for the proverbial "silver lining in every cloud."

Pollyanna has been mocked by many...but really, her outlook is a gift we all could use. It doesn't mean ignoring or denying the negative or awful things in our lives, it simply is resetting our focus and finding the good that can be found if we will indeed look for it. As Pollyanna's author said, "When you look for the bad in mankind (or in your life/or your situation- my words ) expecting to find it, you surely will!"

Will you be a bee or a vulture? Bees buzz around looking for the beautiful flowers, getting the pollen to carry so more beauty can be spread. Vultures fly around, circling in the air looking for the death and decay. Both the bee and the vulture find what they are looking for. So it is with me...it's all in my perspective.

What will I choose?

I think from this week's experiment with gratitude, I'll keep up with my own version of Pollyanna's glad game. I will choose to look for the things I can be grateful for...

It follows then, that I will be, well, happier.

Calling all Pollyanna's...

Join me.

Yesterday's Thankful list

1) O.K. you can never be too thankful for more beautiful days!!! Sunshine - ah, you gotta love it...and it's warm too...personally, I'm less fond of cold bright days...

2) Visit with MIL who then babysat for us.

3) A date with my hubby!!! Out to a movie, Knight and Day, great movie btw, then out for a bite to Mr. Greek.

4) For my husband who actually initiated this date!!!

5) Sitting out on the deck with hubby just chatting and drinking tea in the morning.

What I'm thankful for today...

1) Another glorious day, filled with sunshine, warmth and good times.

2) A refreshing, invigorating swim, splashing and playing in the water with my hubby, daughter and her friend.

3) My friend's generosity in allowing us to swim in their pool, which is in a beautiful backyard, full of mature trees, flowers of many variety and color. Lovely!

4) Homemade shortcake with fresh Ontario strawberries, loaded with whipped cream...oh yeah...yumilious...(I do enjoy baking and eating too!!! ;) ).

5) Watching the inspiring movie Invictus...go, rent it, it's thought provoking and it's real life...wow...

Symbols for My Life

A few days ago Gretchen Rubin of the Happiness Project sent an e-mail to subscribers and asked about symbols. Apparently, Buddists have 9 symbols and Gretchen decided she would come up with her own. She asked us what symbols we would choose for our lives.

I was intrigued by this question and turned the thought over and over in mind. Here are the symbols I thought of for my life -

1) Books - they represent imagination, learning, pleasure and delight.

2) Teddy bears - for me, they are connotative of comfort, gentleness and affection.

3) Water - it is life-giving, renewing, energizing and refreshing.

4) Roots - home, steadfastness, nourishment, stability and security.

5) Triangle - deep connections with - God, my family, and my friends.

6) Pen - flow of creativity, an expression of life.

7) Trees - flexibility, withstand most of the time the winds of life, bend but usually do not break, strength as they grow.

8) Doors - opportunities, options, alternatives, can open up or close out.

9) The Book (Bible) - beliefs, an anchor, a test to measure life.

If you had to pick some symbols for your life what would they be???