Impatience

I have been scarce.

My husband and I have been wrestling with big decisions lately and after much deliberation and back and forth, we've decided to put our house on the market. We have been really busy spiffing and shining and running amok and, while it is certainly impossible to live anywhere but in the present when resembling a headless chicken, it is very hard to live MINDFULLY.

So, the glory of a new day and a new beginning. Today, I am going to listen to the third session of my on-line course with Geneen Roth (since I was so tired during the live session that I couldn't stay awake until the end) and I'm going to focus on slowing down and being in the moment.

Just now, I took the dogs outside to throw the ball for them and tire them out and I stood among my garden beds and felt this unbelievable impatience as I looked at all of the green tomatoes and the tiny ears of corn. I want home grown garden produce NOW!!

It's a good metaphor for life in the modern world that I want everything fast and on demand. I'd love to be whole and healthy and thin and at peace and I want it all NOW. But Nature knows better, see. Nature knows that everything happens in season and when we mess with growing times and fake additives, you get tasteless tomatoes and genetically modified corn that may or may not kill you sooner.

Everything in its own time. That's my focus today.

Perennials

I have such a good metaphor for today!  I love it when my garden gives me visual aids.

See this?

Those were a total surprise to me this year.

Last year, I planted some lilies after buying one of those foil wrapped little containers of them for my kitchen table.  Once the blooms were spent, I planted them into a pot that was full of annuals and promptly forgot about them.

Until they started poking their little heads out of the dirt in early April this year.

I've been watching them ever since. I've tended them and weeded them and given them a bit of plant food.

Today, they look like this:

It seems to me that Nature herself is reminding me of resilience and renewal. And also? Reminding me that I, too, am a perennial.

Today, I'm going to focus on remembering that I am worth a little care and tending in order to continue to bloom year after year.

Promises Kept

I think my heart may have grown two sizes today.

Somehow-- amidst all that is broken in me, and a world with oil spills, and the inhumanity of people who are often armed with guns-- the fact that my garden is giving me the promise of this tiny green tomato has filled me with hope.

Today, I am going to live inside that hope. I'm going to return to it whenever I feel knocked back. 

Today, I choose hope.

Wonder

Yesterday was a terrible day.

I had a really awful migraine, my foot hurt, a storm blew my patio table over again and broke another pot, my kitty Edward is sick again after less than a week, my older daughter Ana's (12) best friends kind of ganged up on her in that way middle school girls find a scapegoat when something isn't going right, my husband had to extend his business trip another day... it just all added up.

So I spent the morning on the sofa, really sick.  Then, as I felt better, I started doing a few things.  I threw the ball for the dogs, took my neighbor a Starbuck's and loaned him Jane (9) as "help" while he was spreading mulch.  I took Ana supplies to decorate another friend's locker at school and talked to her and empathized when she told me about her day.  I made a fabulous dinner, put the kids to bed with kisses and love and laughter.

Then, (this is going to sound crazy) last night at about 2:00, I was lying awake in bed and just talking to God (in that way I do) about Edward and asking that he please just not suffer anymore.  He was really suffering.  I was pretty worried.  So I decided to go check on him, threw back the covers and there Ed was in my room.  He hopped up on the bed, curled up in the crook of my arm and gave me the Harley Davidson purr.  He's well.

I would normally not say anything about this because I'm not a Holy Roller and I don't want to scare anyone. But I have to say my truth and that honestly, really, truly happened.

Someone or something or some energy is apparently listening.  I feel like when my heart is true, when I am really trying to keep on going, when I am connected and not in flight --I ask and I receive.

Just kind of...well...looking at the world with fresh wonder today.

Astonishment

Last night was the first of the sessions in my on-line conference with Geneen Roth, author of Women Food and God.  It was a powerful hour, that's for sure. I am still processing many of the things I heard. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of this conference taking six weeks but now I'm glad I have a week in between sessions to really absorb the information.

One of the action items for this week was to be astonished by what I already have.

This is the perfect action item for me, especially today.  My foot is terribly painful and I had to cancel having coffee with my friend Sherry because I of it. My older daughter had clothing issues this morning, which threw off our schedule and we ended up forgetting her lunch.  I'm mad at my lawn guys, which makes me feel impotent and like I'm not a good manager.

So, deep breath.

By having a little extra time to make my daughter's lunch, I was able to first go to the grocery store and buy things that she might actually, well, EAT. (I KNOW!) I had money to do so and I had the luxury of time to pick the perfect strawberries for her.  I was smiling as I packed her lunch, aware of how blessed I am and also, how blessed she is to have me as her mother. I delivered the lunch to her school and did so with a glad heart.

Sherry and I made plans for her family to come over for dinner on Saturday.  She understands my chronic pain issues and is always unfailingly flexible in accommodating them.  I am so blessed to have her as a friend.

I'm calling the yard guys today, which will make me feel all brave and efficient.

So then I started noticing all of my blessings. I would enumerate them but suffice to say, I am probably the most blessed person on this planet. And you know what else?  I am so unbelievably loved.  It takes my breath away to think of it, really. 

I'm going to spend the rest of my day feeling this amazing feeling of abundance --reveling in it, wearing it like a crown, paying it forward in my every interaction.

Joy

Look what came out of our garden yesterday.

It doesn't matter that it's a little misshapen.  It doesn't have to be perfect to fill my house of aspiring farmers with great joy.

And then I put it in my daughter's lunch today, the ultimate present.

How great is a world where we can grow our own strawberries?

Phoebe

There is this fabulous live web camera trained on a hummingbird in California named Phoebe.

I got interested in her back in February because she had laid two eggs and it seemed like the world was waiting for them to hatch.  One egg proved nonviable and the other chick died trying to hatch.

So Phoebe laid two more eggs.

Those eggs were stolen by a crow.

So Phoebe laid two more eggs.

Those eggs hatched this week.

I almost couldn't bear to watch.  My heart was just broken after the first eggs I saw and I was worried the whole event would send me right over the edge and into depression.

But Phoebe, see, she never gave up.  She didn't let her past sorrows get in the way of being fully present and trying again.  The past can't hurt Phoebe. The past is past.

And now the world is richer by two little hummingbirds.

Today, I'm going to remember that the past is in the past, and the only way it can hurt me is if I let it. I'm going to just keep moving forward.

(Photo of Phoebe from her Facebook page.)

Center

Today I was supposed to go back to Queens (ack!) to hear the results of the MRI on my foot.

My older daughter woke up ill, though, and the appointment had to be rescheduled.

I'm okay with that, because I'm not hugely worked up over the results. I know if it was a stress fracture, the doctor would have called with that news.

(Yes, I was hoping for a stress fracture.  I know, I know.)

I'm actually not that worried about the results in general because I had sort of an epiphany yesterday: my disability does not define me.

I've been letting it rule my life, this vision of myself as a person of mobility issues, my vision of myself as defective. 

And the truth is that I am who I always was, walking or not. 

I can't tell you what a huge breakthrough this is for me. I'm not defined by what I can no longer do.

Today, as I go about my day, I'm going to take special note of all the things I CAN do, all the ways I can love my family and friends, all the things that make me a unique and special person that have absolutely nothing to do with my inability to run. 

Today, will you judge yourself by your limitations or by your potential?

Hands

Today, my daughters are participating in a piano competition-- they will play piano in front a judge who will critique them. They've been practicing really hard. Yesterday, they played their pieces for me and I kept staring at their hands. Aren't hands the most amazing things?

I began to think about my own hands. Hands that have soothed fevered brows and planted rows of flowers and tiled whole bathrooms. I can peel an apple in one strip of peel and crack an egg with one hand. I can prepare a meal and scour a sink and type a letter that will make the reader smile. I can knit socks--the physical manifestation of a hug. When my children were babies and I put them to bed, I would sing to them until their eyelids grew heavy and them I would very gently stroke their eyebrows --always, always, their eyes would close and they would sleep.

Today, as I go through my day, I will notice all of the things I do with my hands and how cleverly and efficiently I do them. I will marvel at their strength and grace and how much joy they add to my life and how much love is expressed through them.

(And also? I will clap with enthusiasm for my children.)

Knitting at the US Open.