gratitude
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
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!
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!
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!