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Morning came earlier than planned yesterday. The crisp and chilled air stoked the desire to curl beneath the warmth of the covers. Pain, discomfort, and an involuntary twitching joined forces with a mind that refused to surrender to slumber and became ever so persistent in the prompting to rise from the bed. With a solid four hours of slumber consumed this possessor of Parkinson’s proceeded to his recliner and the convenience of a book nearing its completion. Expecting sleep to make another visit we read and waited until it was obvious the visitor was not to arrive again that morning. Promptly consuming morning medication and coffee we soon set out in the rain for the men’s prayer breakfast scheduled for the convenience of those not rushing to work. A lesson about the “two sons” reminded us that what we do is a much deeper expression of our faith than what we say we will do. A return to the farmhouse rendered this tired and achy PD cohabitant to a state of intermittent jerks and twitches that prompted schedule readjustments and re-focused attention to letting go of the need to be anywhere other for that time. Prayers of gratitude for moments of spastic reprieve along with the prayers of others led to a restful evening of slumber and a return to today’s opportunities to serve others. Even in the mist of today’s chilling rain, there glows the light of possibilities fueled by the presence of thankfulness to be a living part of today’s experience!
Mocking birds exercise the ranting from which they get their name while crows caw seemingly just because they can. A cool presence engulfs this sleepy possessor of Parkinson’s as he waits for Gracie the Golden to demonstrate her morning constitutional. The lightening, rain and wind from the evening before have given way to a calm but overcast morning that holds promise for the chores ahead for today. At the center of the plan is today’s delivery of what has been dubbed the “backpacks” to one of the city’s elementary schools. The project, under the direction of the city’s food pantry known as God’s Store House, delivers a hefty bag of sundry staples for more than two hundred children at the school who might otherwise experience hunger over the weekend. We deliver only a small portion of those that are put together by eager and generous hands from ages six to near ninety working together to sort, assemble, and place lovingly in bags and boxes that are handy for the journey from the First Baptist Church to the school. The kids at the school who participate in the program will receive their “backpack” of staples that will be delivered and sorted early this afternoon. Each backpack contains more than the total of the items therein; they contain the touch of loving and eager hands to help with something for the benefit of others! They contain thoughts of gratitude and thankfulness that funds have been supplied to purchase products that meet a need. They contain the heartfelt desire to help others that supersedes the sometimes otherwise limiting physical impediments that hold some back. Although each backpack may look the same, they are each as different as the hands and hearts that take them and the hands and hearts that have made and placed them. Love is the act that creates, toils, tarries, and positions; gratitude and sustained good health is the intended result. Each is as important as the other as we take this life journey together!
Babs, their Golden Retriever, was executing her usual role as playful observer and chief from the newly found space within the fenced back yard. The baby was safely secured in her car seat just extracted from the vehicle and positioned beside the sofa and centerpiece of the bright new living room. She watched every move of the going and coming as the last of what seemed the personal life support supplements were brought in from the vehicles. Endowed with what appears to be a heavenly dose of calm and patience, my daughter-in-law attempts to redirect the attention of her overly tired toddler from her need to express general discomfort to a place of enchantment and absorbed attention at the yet to be discovered new surroundings. Their first evening in the new abode was about to commence as this stiff and tremulous dad and grandfather gave his goodbye hugs and kisses. A week’s worth of gratitude had filled the space between their arrival and this evening’s farewell. Now they were all safely tucked in the tiny but comfortable house that will be their home for the next few months. Thankfulness is the stone upon which we step as we reach out to the One who has made it possible to bring family closer together.
Small flocks of yellow finches swarm the fields bearing yellow flowers in the cool spring morning. Passing storms swept in more humid, but cooler overcast skies. The day looks moist in these early hours, but we never know what the day may bring. Moving household goods across the street can be taxing, but moving them with two infants more than seven hundred miles is a daunting task. My son’s household belongings are now securely crammed into his family’s new abode, but all is far from settled. The evening of their arrival afforded a much needed reprieve from the bustle and tedious events and distractions of the packing and journey that was preparation for new adventures in a new part of the country for them. Gratitude has been the pillow upon which we have all laid our heads the last few days and thankful hearts beat to the rhythm that has been wrought as a new chapter in their lives unfolds. Patience, perseverance, and persistence are proving to be valued assets as they place their faith in the One who provides. Tremors, stiffness, aches and pains act as impediments to this possessor of Parkinson’s who nevertheless heaps a healthy helping of gratitude beside the gate of new beginnings.
As variations in intensity of the rain pelting the tin roof of the old farm house gives evidence of nature’s force, thunder roars in the distance. Prognosticators warned of today’s varied intensities of much needed rain for the region. The newly planted garden is saved from well water and is instead soaked in nature’s bounty from above. Gracie, the pampered Golden nestles her head against the sofa as we wait out the passing deluge. We embrace the sunshine and warmth there from and sometimes lament its loss when the storms arise. However, the storms are as vital a part of nature’s bounty as is the sunshine. Both have their place in the ongoing outpouring of the blessing we call life. As Parkinson’s disease has taken up residence in this current inhabitant of the farmhouse, we have had to exercise the notion of acceptance that varied symptoms are a evidence of the invader’s continued presence. Like shelter from the storm keeps one drier and cooler or warmer, addressing the constellation of untoward symptoms with preparation is note worthy. Sometimes the storms arise quickly and seemingly without warning. At other times one can sense the ominous arrival of the storm as changes in resistance, flexibility, and involuntary movements and even gait emerge. Making hay while the sun shines is a well known farming fact and productivity metaphor and one to be wisely executed in the life of the one desiring to thrive. Response to the blessing of opportunity is best expressed with the embrace of gratitude and action in the direction the opportunity affords. Gratitude, like sunshine, helps one through the bouts of drizzle and deluge that might otherwise wash away rather than nurture. May your garden thrive in the soil of gratitude that is enriched by the down pouring of thankfulness midst the presence of opportunity!
The scratching and crackling had become all too prevalent just over the two front windows. A windstorm two weeks ago rendered the siding over the eaves tattered and torn. Just a slight gust of wind sent the ripped metal pieces flapping against the house or roof in noisy protest. Something more seemed to be going on and the suspects were a pair of red winged blackbirds who were possibly commandeering an out of the weather space to build a nest. As the repairman went about his task of replacing the poorly constructed eaves covering from forty years ago, this reluctant host to PD went about the task of completing his agenda. The doorbell sounded and this stiff legged shuffler made his way to the waiting door. Held firmly in the hand of the repairman was a well crafted nest containing five small eggs and several black feathers. The nest had been exposed as the old siding was being removed to make way for the replacement. We were both concerned about the potential blackbird family and knew there was no way to return the nest to its pre-discovery state. Hoping for the best, the nest and its bright orbs was placed securely in the grand old pecan tree near the house. The nesting pair may never return, but we are thankful that there was a place high off the ground in which the painstakingly crafted nursery could be placed. Even as the normal process of life is sometimes interrupted there are moments and spaces of opportunity that emerge. We can only hope that the red winged pair discovers the new location of the opportunity to continue their process of family building!
Nestled in the quiet of the morning and the stillness of the moment, thoughts of times past seem to have landed midst the field of today’s agenda. Currently relieved of the physical restraints brought on by hosting the residence crasher called Parkinson’s, reflections of times past flood the cauldron of memories. A place, an event, children, distant family, and friends each prompt thoughts of experiences past. Feelings of peace, joy, love, enjoyment and contentment fill the space between now and then so fondly called memory. It is the associated emotion or feeling that seems to give the memory its boost. An event without an associated meaning would be as lost as light in a black hole or music not heard in a sound proof room. As thoughts of gratitude for the opportunities of memories emerge, a foundation of thankfulness underpins the hope upon which we stand as we peer into the events of today and what is to come. With gratitude as a companion and thankfulness as our foundation, we leap into the adventures of today from which the memories of tomorrow will be crafted. May your companion be nurtured and your walkway be solid!
A forecast of summer weather so early in the spring seems out of place since frost just paid us a visit a few nights ago. The landscape is bursting with shades of green as wild onions and wire grass engage their respective genetic propensity on the ground. Mid-morning air, less humid than frank summer temperatures, already seems to beg for a breeze to move it along. A shady place will surely be welcomed by birds and mammals as the afternoon temperature is expected to climb in the higher double digits. Warmth without humidity is a welcomed occurrence to this PD host who sometimes finds maneuvering through cold weather more challenging than not. Thoughts of gratitude well up inside as childhood memories of springtime emerge. The childhood memories of freedom from the restraints of heavy clothing and clunky shoes shed in the warmth of summer flood this thankful heart. Gratitude is the sunshine in which a thankful heart basks and absorbs the memories of a life so filled with love. May your day be bright with that gratitude that illuminates the blessings that surround like the grains of sand beside the stream.
The distant view of the western horizon is obscured by the steady downpour of rain on this warming spring day. Remnants of wind torn siding ripped from the eaves of the farmhouse lay in collected piles awaiting repair and restoration where usable. This season has been inundated with teases of summer, haunts of winter and remnants of floods. One consistency that we are learning to count on is change! Change from welcomed and expected climes to those wished behind us and back again has become the cycle consistently expressed. Deep within the brain of those of us who have been called upon to host the ever depleting levels of dopamine that has been labeled as Parkinson’s disease, a phenomenon similar to the current weather pattern has emerged. It too is called change. That change may occur rapidly and with unexpected consequences or it may emerge slowly in medically predictable fashions. In either instance, it embraces what has become familiar; sometimes friendly, sometimes a foe, but always change. Although friendship with an apparent foe seems an unlikely occurrence, friendship has become a reasonably logical step along the pathway to a place of peace. The friendship is not with the consequences of change per se, but rather with the very fact that change is an inevitable part of the process of life. Thankfulness for another step along the pathway to the “peace” that goes beyond routine understanding leads one to the gate of gratitude that when entered renders a whole new vista.
The azaleas hugging the white clapboard house stood as a stark pink contrast in the bright sunshine of this unusually chilly spring day. Once inside the gated yard more but different colored blossoms came into view. Nature’s variety and variations were presenting themselves as evidence that even blooming bushes holding the same name were the same in name only! As I crossed the threshold into the bright and welcoming home space the warm and congenial face of one who is becoming a dear friend lifted his words of welcome. He, an unwilling host to ALS, has met many challenges and continues to thrive with the loving hearts and hands of neighbors and friends. Inspiration barely describes the emotional response I have experienced at the level of care and nurturing for the physical needs of this delightful and talented musician by those who attend him. As we engage our varied and sometimes tangential conversation we brush upon opportunities to encourage and lift one another in words of gratitude, hope, and faith. We express our wonder at the complexities of the human experience and the neurological quagmire that seemingly all too frequently turns from solid ground to engulfing quicksand. We stand for a moment on the metaphorical precipice that overlooks that valley into which one could so easily plunge emotionally and we lift our eyes and thoughts to the bridge of gratitude upon which we take steps of thankfulness. We grew up in different parts of the garden and we share the same label called human. Although our blooms are expressed in different colors, the core of our roots renders us in the same human family, nurtured by the soil of faith and nutrients of grace that are watered in gratitude.