What is your Gentle Reminder?

In today's day and age, it is so easy to get wrapped up in work, technology, television, and things that are unproductive or even catastrophic to the human psyche.  Many people, including myself, are so ridden with stress, anxiety, and worry on a regular basis that it is difficult to always enjoy life.  But if anyone out there is like me, I have coping mechanisms, or gentle reminders, that life is not as hectic as my mind can sometimes make it out to be.  I tend to be moved by simple things, like freshly bloomed flowers in the spring, the sound of ocean waves crashing on the beach, and the different smells that the air takes with the changes of seasons.  I also love the sound of birds, singing and chirping to each other like they have not a care in the world.  The birds are my gentle reminder that life is, in fact, good.

Growing up, one of my favorite things to do on a weekend morning in the spring or summer was to sit out on the deck eating breakfast and listening to the birds sing.  I would watch them fly to and from the bird feeder, taking in all the different types of birds and marveling at the beautiful colors that certain ones had.  I liked to wonder what they were saying to each other.  Sometimes I would actually be woken up by the birds singing in the trees outside my window at the first sign of daylight.  Though it may have been early, I always enjoyed hearing their cheerfulness.  It was as if they were giving praise and joy for the new day.  It reminded me that I, too, should be happy that I have been given a new day.  Today, with the demands of having kids and lacking the quality sleep I had growing up, I am not as much of a morning person as I used to be.  But I still don't mind hearing the birds first thing in the morning.  They might wake me up prematurely, but the beautiful sounds are so soothing that I simply can't be mad at them.  When I am outside, I love watching the birds fly around playfully, so carefree and happy.  Yet their lives could be considered just as hectic, if not more, than my own.  They must build their own nests, find their own food, protect themselves and their offspring from predators, and fly south for the winter.  I read a book in which the author used birds as an example of how we as humans should not worry so much in our lives.  She said that birds don't know where their next meal is coming from, yet she had "personally never seen a bird sitting on a tree branch having a nervous breakdown due to worry." (Meyer, Battlefield of the Mind)  I laughed when I read this because I pictured a bird having a nervous breakdown, but I stopped laughing then I pictured myself having the as the frazzled, anxious person that I can be.  Why should I be so anxious when I have all my needs provided for me?  Why shouldn't I be as carefree as the birds, enjoying every minute of the day and singing a song of joy? 

Every time I hear birds sing, I am reminded of all the blessings I have in my life and the beauty that surrounds me.  They are my gentle reminder that the best things in life are the simple things, and that even if I may not know what lies ahead, there is still reason to rejoice.   

What is your gentle reminder? 

A New Door Opens

            “When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.”  These are words spoken by the famous Helen Keller.  Many of us can attest to the validity of this statement.  We tend to hold on to our pasts, whether good or bad, thus preventing us from fully appreciating our present lives.  I myself am guilty of spending too much time thinking about the past.  Being a very reflective and sentimental person, I often times find myself trying to relive my childhood through my memories or think about what I would say to a person if only I could see them again.  Although I am extremely thankful to have had such a wonderful childhood, these thoughts distract me from being fully present in my current life.  Most recently, I have been struggling with the loss of my grandfather.  I had no idea it would be this difficult for me because I knew his death was imminent and because, frankly, I knew it would be a blessing for him to finally go.  But what I hadn’t foreseen was that once he was gone, it would mean an end to a generation.  The generation of him and my grandmother, who passed away almost six years ago, which was so influential on my life and which emphasized the value of family and of love.

            As a child, I was drawn to my grandparents like a bug is drawn to a light.  Grandma and Papa’s house was my favorite place to go, not only because they were fun, but also because the love that they radiated from their hearts was irresistible.  I was very fortunate to be able to see my grandparents at least once a week, sometimes more.  As I grew up, they would frequently give me words of advice and, though they spoke gently, I knew I needed to listen.  Some of their words were, “Don’t ever smoke cigarettes or do drugs.”  To this day, I have done neither.  Or, “Don’t date a guy with long hair.”  Ok, this one was a result of their conservative upbringing, but at the time many guys with longer hair could have meant trouble.  What else was great about Grandma and Papa was that I always received their undivided attention.  They never made me feel like I was getting in the way or that they had to do something else before they could get to me.  If something had to get done, they welcomed me to help and taught me how to do it.  One of the greatest traditions that my family had was going to Grandma and Papa’s house every Sunday for dinner.  I looked forward to this time every weekend and felt very amiss if we couldn’t go.  Grandma’s cooking was always amazing, but beyond that was the warmth and hospitality that she and Papa provided in their home.  As I got older, I cherished the memories I had with my grandparents and desired to one day carry on their traditions in my own family.

            Now that Papa has passed away, I feel greatly saddened not only by the loss of his person, but of the time that we shared together.  I have been dwelling on this loss, wondering how I can carry on the legacy that my grandparents created within their family.  I am distraught because I feel like I need to do something, to create some sort of tradition that will honor them or to tell the world how great they were in hopes that more people can be like them.  But with all this dwelling, I have been missing out on my own family.  I have been spending time thinking about my childhood memories instead of helping my kids make their own great childhood.  My husband is happy for the memories I have with my grandparents, but he doesn’t understand why I desire to create a life that is exactly like theirs.  One night a few weeks ago after having a long crying spell over my sorrow, my grandmother appeared to me in my dream.  Fittingly, the dream took place in her old house, the house where I visited her as a child.  She seemed so real, like I could reach out and touch her.  I thought that she was going to say something to me, but rather she just looked at me and remained quiet.  I walked towards her to give her a hug and said, “Grandma, I miss you.”  After that I woke up and for a second was disappointed that she didn’t say anything to me, that there was no message for me.  But right then as I laid in bed a voice in my head said to me, “Love what you have, not what I had.”  I do not know where this came from, but I have a strong feeling that it was Grandma saying to me what she hadn’t said in the dream. 

            “When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.”  Helen Keller was right.  My door of happiness which has closed is the wonderful years spent with my grandparents.  I have been staring at this door not wanting to let go of what's behind it.  But the door of happiness that has been opened is one where I can share the values that my grandparents gave me with my family and those around me.  I don’t have to have the same circumstances they had, just the same love for my family and desire to make time for those I love.  I can welcome everyone with a warm heart and treat them with respect.  I can put an emphasis on those things which are pure and good in the world and hope that I inspire others to do the same.  I can tell my kids stories about my grandparents and let them, in return, tell me stories about their own grandparents.  I may not be able to personally introduce my grandparents to those I know, but my hope is that I will be able to share their greatness and carry on their legacy in the years to come.

Thanks for the memories, Grandma and Papa.  Now I must close the door, but you will be with me wherever I go.