The condensation on the windows and glass doors obscures the view of the bright morning sun. A balm of humidity engulfs one as steps are taken from inside the well modulated air conditioned house onto the otherwise inviting porch. What appears to be inviting from inside proves to be nearly unbearable when the invitation is accepted as globs of humid and hot air consume the space around. Fleeting memories of childhood days and summers at the old farmhouse where the air was conditioned only in the shade of the open windows and endured in the absence of pants, shirt, and shoes come rushing by. The “free-range” chickens are already busy clawing and pecking in the newly spread mulch around the giant maple trees as the attentive and tired mother of pups takes her leave in the distant meadow. Just these few minutes rocking in the porch swing midst the steamy summer air starts to elicit a glisten of uncomfortable compensation for a body exposed to the reality of summer. Grateful that the mechanically cooled house afforded a comfortable and relatively uninterrupted sleep, the yawning grandpa, calls for the return of the mother Golden to her cool station with her healthy litter. PD symptoms subdued in the presence of much needed rest, this grateful heart returns to his coffee and pursuit of another day whose agenda though planned will unfold even if and as challenges arise. Thankfulness is the substance upon which today’s pathway is built.
The light of a new day peeks through the warm and humid haze that hovers along the hillside. Not stricken with the urgency of a “to do” list just yet this aging bearer of delayed motor function observes the calm beauty of the early morning. Pups and mommy lie peacefully together in their pen with little more than an occasional moan of satisfaction arising from the litter. Even the chickens that often roam the yard in search of delectable crawly creatures have not found their way from their barnyard abode. Reflection of the past two weeks sends me to a place of thankfulness for tasks accomplished that have moved loved ones along a pathway to new adventures. Sebastian, the cat has made himself know by scratching and meowing at the door for some supplemental morsels that supersede the mice and vole engorgement he demonstrates with his swagging belly. Soon the chores of another day will demand attention, but for now, the wonder of this gift called life is savored in this mindful cauldron that is stirred by the beauty of the moment in touch with the creator and sustainer. Gratitude is the salve that soothes even the prickly pokes that challenge what we wish to always be a smooth and non-painful journey. Blessings come in assorted containers, some easier to open than others, but always filled to the brim!
The roadway was drenched as torrents of rain descended and the sound of the wipers working frantically to brush the water aside seemed to add to the tightening tension of this Parkinson’s possessing grandpa driving the rental truck in northeast Florida. Four gracious fellows had taken less than two hours to load the truck that morning and we began our journey well before Noon. Eight hours later we were in north Georgia and ready for some replenishing sleep before completing the second leg of the 835 mile journey. Arrival at the farm was a blessing and a relief. The truck was soon unloaded and Father’s Day was blessed with a family cookout and a near collapse onto the bed for a thankful night’s sleep. An early rise filled the air with anticipation of my daughter’s arrival that was anticipated that evening. Soon, she would arrive with her cargo in tow and make this week long preparation and journey toward broader family relocation a reality. Gracie, fraught with puppies and slow of movement, began to pant and moan. Puppy number one showed her face and thus began the evening’s journey of little sleep and extended sounds of puppy whines and mommy moans as one after another after another began to make its appearance. With daughter and family welcomed, fed and relieved to have safely made the journey, the humans all retired for a restful night’s sleep. At seven the next morning, eleven of nature’s blessings had arrived and were eagerly seeking the nipple of triumph for which each had to wait its turn. This sleep deprived possessor of Parkinson’s was filled with gratitude as prayers of thankfulness were offered for the miracles that the last forty eight hours had wrought. Now seven more of the human family is closer by to visit with and share love and eleven more beautiful Golden Retrievers begin their journey of growth in preparation for their “forever” homes! I was reminded that even tired old codgers find renewal in new life and new adventures!
The train whistle blows in the distance as the sound of far off traffic penetrates the stillness of the space around me. My daughter’s dog snores rhythmically as she has perched herself securely in the middle of the would-be sofa. With granddaughter still sleeping off her late night television extravaganza this grandpa, who willfully addresses the management of invasive Parkinson’s symptoms, takes in the stillness of this morning before a major change. The tragedy in Orlando the weekend before and the televised and published bickering and adamant fault finding lingers heavy in the background. Tomorrow begins the journey of moving loved ones from South Florida to North Carolina. The journey promises to be long and perhaps tedious at times as I will be one of those driving the truck along that journey. We have attempted to embrace as many plans and preparations as the mind could fathom for this trip and thankfulness is becoming the companion that is soothing the otherwise anxious anticipation of any unexpected challenges. With the end of the journey in mind and all parties safely seeking their respective destination goals, we are discovering the power of gratitude as we navigate each route.
Passing showers had dampened our way and tightly congested roadways had made the journey from the mountaintop to the rolling hills of Connecticut a tedious challenge. The patio and pool deck were abuzz with hugs, greetings and laughter as family and friends had gathered to celebrate family and commemorate the life of nephew Joey and support the foundation his father had founded in his memory that gives financial support to folks living with the challenges of cancer. Family from age one to 92 hovered securely beneath the canopies as the rain came down in virtual torrents. The joy of being together again in one place superseded any complaints about the weather as folks gathered closer to hear the challenges and victories experienced over the past year. As the sun shone brightly warming the freshly mowed greens at the golf club, the rain from the previous evening was but a faint memory overshadowed by the joy of family fun together. Hundreds of folks had gathered to support the foundation and honor the memory of Joey. The storms had passed and bright sunshine exposed nature’s bounty as the golf tournament was played, raffle tickets were sold, and food was shared with still more friends and relatives. The banquet that evening, though sumptuous, was incidental to the thrill of seeing the grant funds being given to those who needed the support that the memory of Joey had funded and to witness the grace and poise with which his dad both gave and received recognition for acts of love well executed. The joy of that day and the testimony of love and thankfulness for the value of life even in the presence of life threatening challenges allowed gratitude its ascent far above the aches and stiffness that accompany the unseemly diagnosis named Parkinson’s.
The fog was slowly lifting as the sun burned its way through the hazy distance. Sleep had been an occasional visitor to this stiff and sore possessor of Parkinson’s pathology after a long journey the day before. The bed had long since lost its reflexive embrace after years of hosting those on retreat. Rising to welcome the day in that early morning mist provided relief from the pressure points only that ancient mattress could illuminate. Reflecting on the beauty that was being unveiled of the Delaware Water Gap through the thinning fog of the distant vista and counting the blessings of renewed friendships in this “retreat” weekend, prayers of gratitude sprang forth in the morning of that new day. Soon the bustle of breakfast and chatter of friendly greetings consumed the space as we all prepared to welcome the day of sharing together in ways that would touch our hearts and inspire our thoughts as “keynote” speakers delivered the renderings of their efforts and heartfelt testaments. Our expectations were again exceeded as thoughtful, intelligent, and inspiring talks unfolded. The last speaker of the day who is just a few years younger than one of my sons shared a moving and scholarly summary of her work in preparing and publishing the biography of Joy Davidman Gresham, wife of C.S. Lewis. So very much has been published about Lewis, but little substantiated information about Joy has emerged over the years. As Abigail, our new acquaintance and gifted author shared her journey of discovery made in research for her book; we were again filled with gratitude for the efforts and exercised talent of those who use their gifts to inspire others. At the end of that day, stiffness aches and pains assumed their welcomed position beneath the presence of thankfulness that erupted in feelings of gratitude for having the opportunity to participate in that final evening of “retreat”.
As we rounded each curve on the winding mountain road the misty rain was turning into layers of semi dense fog. Construction traffic had delayed our arrival by almost an hour, but the spectacular views through the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia had brightened our way. Now, at the highest point along the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania, we greet friends from the past and say hello to new ones with whom we will be sharing most of the weekend in this creaky but cozy old retreat center. Stiff and sore from the hours of confinement, this host to Parkinson’s begins to limber up during rehearsals with the chorus for the evening’s special music. Gratitude soon takes its place in the forefront of thoughts as we catch up with old acquaintances over dinner and prepare our hearts for the evening’s worship and discussion. The first message we hear challenges one to remember that living out one’s faith renders witness to the presence of the One in whom our faith resides. As we concluded our time together that evening, the rhythm of the rain falling on the leaves of the massive trees just outside the window invited us to a place of rest and renewal that first evening back at Kirkridge Retreat Center.
The heat and humidity engulf the surroundings and layer the skin with a film of moisture just for being present. Gracie the Golden is out seeking a place of relief within the wide open field near the garden. It is becoming obvious that her tryst with Charlie, last month in Goldsboro, is going to render another litter of baby Goldens not unlike a year ago. As I reminisce on the porch swing I watch as she gallops through the grass around the orchard and wonder how many there will be this time. She has demonstrated her ability as a dutiful and dedicated mother who was only too glad when the last of the pups had found their own loving and forever home. Witnessing her frolics and relief, a gentle call of her name brings her gleefully panting back to the refuge of the air conditioned indoor space. The Parkinson’s invader has rendered this pooch lover physically slow and stiff at times, but always welcoming of the loving hug and lick seemingly omnipresent and waiting to be redeemed at a beckoned call. Just another three weeks and new lives will emerge from this loving gift that is Golden and begin their journey in the family to which much joy will be given and shared. In the meantime, we cherish each moment that is now with a grateful heart and thankful arms that embrace this magnificent creature we call Gracie
In the shade of the giant oak we sat and reminisced about respective friends, family, and past experiences. Midst the beauty of the garden he designed long before the ALS overtook his freedom to dig, mulch and plant, a passion exceeded only by his love of music, we cherished moments of common interests in gardening, cooking and general every day aspects of life. For that hour and a half we were transported from the routine of managing life’s negotiated impediments to a magical place of sheer presence in the garden of the living past and present. As our time of freedom from agenda came to a close I was overtaken with a sense of gratitude for this time of sharing and the beautiful and bright garden so lovingly crafted from which we were about to depart. Gratitude and the care of others who value the human designer of the garden serve as nourishment for the garden’s growth and bounty of flowers springing forth as its testimony. For that time, for that place, and for the sharing of friendship and life’s blessings, we give thanks. From dreams and toil come the roots that ignite fresh memories in the soil of thankfulness. We are grateful to uncover each day that life is greater than a diagnosis. It blossoms brightly within the garden of gratitude in the midst of its creator!
Sun lit skies were tenuous as strands of chilled air streamed by in the heat of the afternoon. A downpour had threatened the park gathering just an hour before but more than one hundred hopeful and eager members and attendees came together to get to know one another and share a meal. There was one distant cousin among the gathering whom I had never met before. His father and I had been friends as children and teens, but lost contact with one another in the busy time of high school in different locations. It was good to learn from his son that all was well with his dad as we engaged that initial cursory discussion. The stiff and painful companion dubbed Parkinson’s had almost convinced me that greater gain would be found by staying home than navigating the narrow paths of the park or the crowded space of the park’s pavilion. Fortunately, resistance to the avoidance temptation won out and I experienced the joy of interacting with and getting to know just a little better both old and new acquaintances. Pain and stiffness were relegated to positions among the sidelines and gratitude and thankfulness took center stage as we engaged the wonder of fellowship in what is growing to be a broader community. Traveling with the companions of gratitude and thankfulness is proving to be far superior to the sedentary confines of pain and stiffness. The discovery of and sharing with others and their lives and histories enriches the soul like soil readied for planting. May the crop be bountiful!
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