connections, continuity, casserole + 1 angel

“Christmas is not an external event, but a piece of one’s home that one carries in one’s heart.” – Freya Stark

 

The angel gracing the top of our Christmas tree is as old as I am. My mom bought her the year I was born because she thought the angel was beautiful and her cherubic face reminded my mom of my fat little round one. The angel has bright red hair, a sweet wise smile and golden cardboard wings. She floats on a cloud of tightly curled, shiny bright “angel hair” (a fiberglass substance no longer made.) To me, she has always been magnificent.

 

Carefully unpacking the angel and placing her on top of the tree was always one of my favorite Christmas memories. So when my mom died, I was happy to find the angel in my box of family ornaments. I knew that angel would hover as patiently, spectacularly and lovingly over my young family’s festivities as she had when I was growing up. And, even though my kids never saw what was special about “that old cardboard angel mom likes so much,” they understood putting something else on top of our tree was not a possibility.

 

When you think about it, it shouldn’t matter what perches on top of a Christmas tree. After all, it’s not the tree that matters, but the people who gathers around it. Yet little things like seeing that cardboard angel appear year after year warm my heart. They bring a sense of continuity and  connection between things past and present. They also provide a bit of predictability in the face of the uncertainly that lies ahead.

 

Tradition, however, should serve as a guide – not a jailer. W. Somerset Maugham said that and it’s a thought worth pondering as we make our holiday memories. The things we did in the past, no matter how pleasant and precious, may no longer meet the needs of the present. The things we call “tradition” currently may very well change in the future.

 

One tradition in our family is that everyone gets something cozy to wear on Christmas Eve. When the kids were little, the “coz” package was the only gift they got to open that night and it always contained new pajamas. My thought was that Christmas dreams are even sweeter when little dreamers are wearing something soft and warm and new.

 

Now that the kids are grown, we share dinner and open all of our gifts on Christmas Eve, then the kids spend the night. We still start with the “coz” package, but these days it contains anything from a new pair of hiking sox to a soft silky robe. As my son-in-law said one year, “How many pairs of pajama pants does one guy need?” 

 

The menu for our Christmas Eve dinner changes, but our Christmas morning breakfast is always the same. It’s homemade cinnamon rolls and a breakfast casserole my never-evil stepmother made for us for years - only on Christmas morning. The casserole is not that special, but eating it reminds us of times we had together, laughing, unwrapping presents and enjoying each other’s company.

 

We used to travel back to Colorado and spent Christmas with my family. And even though we haven’t done that for years, the taste of that casserole brings back those memories and joins us together again. Some years we call first - they’re eating the casserole; other years they call first and we’re eating the casserole. And, in part because of that casserole, it’s as if, for a moment or two, all those years and miles no longer separate us.  

      

Woody Allen calls tradition “the illusion of permanence” – I like that. While we know nothing is permanent, the illusion of permanence is a precious one, especially since we can’t know where, with whom or under what circumstances we will gather next year. 

 

 

Seeing that cardboard angel floating above the Christmas tree on her bright white angel hair cloud, ever beautiful and resplendent, lifts my heart and gives me a sense of hope and continuity…After all, every year now for 57 years there’s been a tree, a family and a branch for her to perch on.

 

“Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow…so have yourself a merry little Christmas now.” And, may your traditions, old and new, bring you the sense of warmth, continuity and connection that my cardboard angel and that Christmas morning casserole bring to me and my family.

do what we can, the best that we can...

“Life holds beauty, magic and anguish.” – Anne Lamott

 

Christmas Eve is a week away and in a few days we’ll celebrate the Winter Solstice, at least I will, because it’s easier to be hopeful once the days begin to be longer again. I had been clicking along, shopping, wrapping, writing cards and decorating - getting ready for the fun the holidays bring when I was stopped in my tracks. 

 

A young couple I know welcomed their second child, a little girl, last week and a few days later she was gone – suddenly and unexpectedly due to some complications they are still not sure of. As if this is not devastating enough, this same couple lost their first child, a little boy, a few hours after his birth last December. There are no words to speak of this…    

 

My heart is so heavy for them. I can’t imagine…No one can imagine…What the &#* and why? But this, as in the case of so many tragedies, has no “why” and, as Anne Lamott, my favorite author, says, “Why is rarely a useful question.” 

 

I was reading Lamott’s recent book, Stiches: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair before hearing this sad news and it’s clear why the book is a New York Times bestseller. It offers page after page of hard- earned and gentle wisdom, different ways of looking bad things when they happen, plus guidance towards the healing that we hope will follow.  

 

Lamott says, “There can be meaning without things making sense.” She then talks about what we can do in times of tragedy, sorrow and chaos – we can “stick together and do what we can.”

 

“What good people can do in the face of great sorrow,” Lamott writes, “We help some time pass for those suffering. We sit with them in their hopeless pain and feel terrible with them, without trying to fix them with platitudes. Doing this with them is just about the most gracious gift we have to offer.”

 

And, what a difficult gift that can be to give. I was an emergency room social worker for years and one of my jobs was to sit with the dying and with the families of the dying or dead. I quickly learned there was, indeed, nothing I could say…All I could do was sit, hold a hand or offer a hug, pray, offer cold water or hot coffee and hand out Kleenex.  

 

Death is a strange thing that comes in many forms. Some deaths are sudden and horrific, complete and absolutely devastating surprises that leave people scarred for life. Other deaths, while no less sad or difficult, are (while perhaps never truly expected) much less shocking. A “good death” is gentle; it takes the soul with dignity. A “bad death” wrenches the guts out of everyone involved, especially the soul and its family.

 

I sometimes felt angels in the room…A calming presence, a lightness of being, a sense of love and quickening peace. Those were the easiest deaths for me. Sometimes the family shared my awareness, other times they did not. But knowing that the soul had a guide always comforted me.

I know there were angels to guide those two poor tiny infants when they died. I also know there were and are angels comforting their brave parents, ever present if sometimes barely felt. That couple doesn’t speak of angel wings, but they do speak humbly and ever thankfully about their friends and family, who draw close to them and do what they can, the best they can.

 

“This is who I think we are supposed to be,” Lamott writes. “People who help call forth human beings from deep inside hopelessness…We help them to bear being in time and space during unbearable times and spaces.” 

 

Christmas, as bright as it is, is also a time of darkness and contrast. That bright star shimmering against the cold of the night…The Wise Men bringing riches to a baby born in poverty… The humbleness and promise of that birth… Glory and miracles juxtaposed against a newborn’s frailty.  

 

Christmas reminds us that we blessed with such bounty, yet, there is great need…I can’t imagine what Mary felt, holding her tiny boy and knowing his destiny…And, I can’t imagine how that young couple felt, giving up their child, not once, but twice…Life is beautiful, yet fragile and fleeting…Light and dark, cold and warmth…We are the shadow and the light.

 

And, so, Lamott writes, “We work hard, we enjoy life as we can, we endure.”  

 

“Keep our little girl in your thoughts,” the young father wrote. “Keep your loved ones close and take nothing and no one for granted”…Wise and powerful advice, not only for the holidays, but for all year long.     

 

 

 

keep it simple...

"Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts." - Janice Maeditere

After stressing over every detail on long holiday lists year after year, I changed my approach. These days my need for perfection and closure is replaced with a genuine enjoyment of all things holiday during this wonderful season – which at our house will stretch from Thanksgiving to Valentine’s Day. (No need to take down those lights or toss out that tree just yet…January and February are bleak and can benefit from some lingering festivity.)

I started my new approach to the holidays several years ago and each year it gets easier and easier to stay focused on what really matters and not stress about the details. Family matters; gifts do not. Gathering together matters; having an elaborately decorated house does not. Health, love, laughter and sharing matter; shopping ‘til we drop does not.   

Don’t get me wrong. I’m no Grinch. I enjoy shopping for gifts and decorating the house. I like hearing non-stop Christmas music everywhere and I’m a sucker for holiday shows – I watch them over and over again. It makes me happy to hear strangers wish each other “Merry Christmas.” It’s fun to see the holiday wreaths and decorations appear. I smile in traffic when I see a vehicle with antlers and a nose, or a bow, or a wreath. It takes me forever to decorate the tree because I linger over every ornament, savoring the memory it brings back to me. I still send a holiday snail mail card and I genuinely enjoy reading the annual wishes we receive in return. Then there’s the lights - all those bright beautiful lights. They are my favorite - never too many or too gaudy - this time of year.  

As you can see, I love almost everything about Christmas…It’s just that I’ve learned to keep things in perspective. No overspending, no big pile of gifts. Keep things simple and do-able. And, no debt. When the feeling of Holidaypalooza begins to set in or a task starts feeling like a chore, I sit back, focus, breathe, then remember and re-seize the reason for the season.  

The Ghost of Christmas Present told Ebeneezer Scrooge, “There is never enough time to do or say all the things we would wish. The thing is to try to do as much as you can in the time that you have.” Boy, did that ghost get it right.

The holidays are about light and hope, memories and magic - not about crossing every line off your list. “Everything changed the day he figured out there was exactly enough time for the important things in his life,” my friends, the StoryPeople, say. I try to remember that.  

This holiday season is off to a happy start for me. I feel relaxed and thankful and like it’s time for the fun to begin. I started shopping early this year. The house is decorated and our Christmas trees look shiny and bright. My little dog Zoobie wore her Santa suit to the Christmas parade the other day and that made a lot of people smile and wave.

My mailman says he’s delivering more packages earlier this year than in any year he can remember. He says he’s stopping at houses that usually never get mail. His theory is the recession is finally over and people have more money to spend this year. I hope so. And, I hope they’re ordering things that make them happy to buy, not things to cross off their lists.

Christmas is the time of year when it seems easier for us to get it right – to laugh more, smile broader, hum a tune and believe in the best. It’s also a time of year when we feel like being kinder and more generous.

One of my favorite Christmas stories is about that grouchy old Grinch – how he stole the Whos’ Christmas and it came just the same. I try to keep our Christmases that way, too – not focused on packages and tags, but on each other and the many blessings we share.  

So, “Welcome Christmas, bring your cheer. Cheer to all Whos far and near. Christmas Day is in our grasp, so long as we have hands to clasp. Christmas Day will always be, just as long as we have we.”

 

give

“Just as a puppy can be more of a challenge than a gift, so too can the holidays.” – John Clayton

Mr. Clark and I just finished the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers, but we are by no means done being thankful. A few Christmases ago, Mr. Clark was out of work and things were grim at our house. There were no gifts. We had food, but it was simple and there were no leftovers. The New Year loomed large, scary and unknown…The simplicity and sadness of that Christmas has stuck with me, even though we are now blessed with bounty again.  

The holidays are such a wonderful time, yet also a time of such challenge for so many. The stark contrast between “have” and “have not” seems particularly clear this time of year. While I am wrapping gifts, others will have no Christmas. While Mr. Clark is busy preparing meal after delicious meal, others don’t have enough food to feed their families. While I set my thermostat at 70 and enjoy cozy fires, others are bone cold with no prospect of warmth.

It’s important to remember that, take a moment to reflect on our many blessings and the Christmas’ that lacked cheer. We can encourage those who are struggling. We can give, we can share and we can do whatever we can to help, especially during this special time of the year.   

Here are a few options:   

- Barrow County Cooperative Benevolence Ministries (BCCBM) has run the local food bank and helped those in need in many other ways for 30 years now. Recently food collected locally (in food drives conducted by non-local organizations) has been diverted out of Barrow County. This has left our food pantry shelves bare, so donations of food and funds are urgently needed. Donations can be taken to the Barrow Food Pantry, 41 E. Candler St. 4:30-5:00 p.m. Mon.-Fri. or left next door at the Clothes Closet Thrift shop, 9:30 a.m.-1 p.m. Mon.-Sat. Pantry director Al Brown will pick up large donations, call 770-868-7269. Funds can be sent to the BCCBM, PO Box 547, Winder, GA 30680. For more information, call Gwen Hill, 770-867-3925. (Donations are tax deductible.)

- Barrow County Holiday Connection is a cooperative effort between Barrow County Family Connection/Communities in Schools and churches and local service organizations. For the past 15 years, it has provided Christmas gifts for kids whose families otherwise would do without. Each year hundreds of families are helped - some are “adopted” by individuals, churches or other groups; the rest are invited to “shop” at the Holiday Connection store which is stocked with toys that are donated or bought with donated funds. Toys can be dropped off at the Barrow County Chamber of Commerce, South State Bank and any Barrow County School. Funds can be sent to FC/CIS of Barrow County, PO Box 278, Winder, GA 30680. For more information, contact Melinda Shealey, melinda.shealy@barrow.k12.ga.us or call the Holiday Connection Hotline, 770-868-4258. The deadline for donations is Dec. 12. .

- Winder Health Care & Rehab Center, 263 E. May St., collects donations each year for a Christmas Store where residents can shop for free for gifts for themselves and loved ones. New items are preferred and items for all ages are accepted. Suggested donations include: house coats, gowns, pajamas, pocketbooks, jewelry, slippers, sweaters, jackets, and sweatpants. The deadline is Dec. 17. For more information or to help with the store, contact Brenda Bramblett, 770-867-2108.

Our furry friends also need help during the holidays. Many pets are surrendered to animal shelters or simply “put out” this time of year. The volunteer group at Barrow County Animal Control, in partnership with Leftover Pets (the local non-profit spay/neuter clinic) helps animals who end up at the shelter in many different ways. Their efforts are not funded by the county and donations are tax deductible. For more information or to donate, go to www.BarrowPets.org or www.LeftoverPets.org and click on Donations. Funds to help shelter animals (marked “BCAC vaccines”) or for Leftover Pets can also be sent to Leftover Pets, 610 Barrow Park Drive, Winder, GA 30680.  

Also, don’t forget those who are struggling in silence – people who are used to taking care of themselves and giving to others who are now out of work or having trouble making ends meet, dealing with illness or death, or hit by some calamity. Often it doesn’t even occur to them to ask for help or a handout. Imagine what a difference a $20, $50 or $100, or a gift card can make in bringing them hope and helping them through tough times.

None of us know what tomorrow will bring. At any time, this glorious excess I am currently enjoying can be snatched by an unforeseen act of God, a death, an illness, or some harsh twist of fate…Pastor Liz on Garrison Keillor’s A Prairie Home Companion speaks of “giving what you do not have” which is certitude. “Give certainty to others as a gift,” she says. What a precious thought.

We can’t give the gift of true certitude, but we can offer a few moments of certitude, over and over again. Here, take this toy, this money, this gift card or donation…Take this ham or turkey or box of food…Give something for the animals…Offer up a blanket or a coat…Here are a few moments of certitude and hope, for you, from me…

Luciano de Crescenzo said, "We are each of us angels with only one wing and we can only fly by embracing one another." What a lovely thought, especially for the holiday season. There’s no better time than now to reach out and fly a little closer to each other.

extremely thankful...every day

(the photo is a Brian Andreas print from the Story People)

Of all the good emotions – joy, contentment, happiness, hope, inspiration, excitement, awe, gratitude and love – gratitude is the easiest for me. (Of course, I love those I love dearly, but loving unconditionally, especially when faced with diversity, is not easy…) Being thankful, however, just flows out of my heart and the older I get the easier being overwhelmed with thankfulness seems to be.  

November is the “official” month of thankfulness and I have been focusing more than usual on how very much I have to be thankful for. The list of blessings is so long…Lately thinking of even the smallest of these brings tears to my eyes. (I’d think it was hormones, but I’m long past that type of turmoil, so I’m assuming it’s just a full heart finally bubbling over...)

I’ve not always lived in this state of extreme thankfulness. I’m a pessimist whose glass is more than half empty. Doom and gloom lurk around every corner and disaster is imminent.  There have been times when I paid more attention to the wolves at the door than the warmth inside the house. There have been times when my heart felt cold and shut, when the world seemed harsh and I could see little to be thankful for. During those times, someone or something always appears to whisper rumors of a thaw, gently in my ear…”This too shall pass”…”The sun will shine again”… “Things really will be okay”…And eventually they are and the pessimist turns thankful again.

There are also times when the depth and breadth and sheer scope of all the hurt and pain and death and evil in the world begin to overwhelm me. A devilish whisper says I should feel guilty in the face of all this terribleness, that all this flippant thankfulness is of no use, that the world really is a dark place…”Be a lamp or a lifeboat or a ladder,” the poet Rumi counters…”Look for the helpers,” Mr. Rogers’ wise mother said…

Over the years my pessimism and my thankfulness have learned to co-exist and these days they actually seem to help each other out. When every day could turn sour with some disaster or misstep, each day that ends uneventfully is truly something to be thankful for. And, I don’t mean that at all flippantly.   

So many people I know are struggling with illness or lack of work or money troubles or family issues – it’s been a tougher year of struggles than I remember in a long time. I watch these brave people and admire them. I reach out when I can; I also knock on wood a lot and thank the Lord for their strength, knowing that I don’t share it. If you doubt that you can get through whatever looms large and difficult ahead, it’s easy to be extremely thankful for each quiet well-blessed day.   

“Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion,” said Truvy Jones in Steel Magnolias. It’s mine, too.

So, this Thanksgiving, may you enjoy laughter through tears, a heart overflowing with thankfulness and a day so uneventful that it leaves you feeling very well blessed.  

 

 

Happy Anniversary, Roscoe - our "perfect demon"

“Dogs are great. Bad dogs, if you can really call them that, are perhaps the greatest of them all.” – John Grogan

Our latest rescue dog, Roscoe, will celebrate his one year anniversary with us this week. Lying at my feet in his dog bed, snoring loudly, he has no idea we’re about to mark this milestone. But, as in all other situations, when the fun begins Roscoe the no-longer-terrible Terrier will be in the middle of things, crooked smile on his face, barking loudly and prancing about like it’s all about him, which in this case, it is. 

When we first met Roscoe, he was not this way. He was a sad, broken, scared little fellow, so sick there wasn’t much life or love left in him. He’d ended up at the animal shelter after his person died and he was not doing well, at all.   

I saw Roscoe in a Facebook video a shelter volunteer posted. There he sat, shivering on the cold concrete floor, looking confused and sad, scared and pitiful, making a low moaning sound. That was it for me - I had to save him.

A rescue took Roscoe the next day. I contacted them immediately and offered to foster him – after all, people love the little dogs and all Roscoe needed was some TLC. We’d have him up and running and in a new forever home by Christmas…or so I thought.  

My theory began to crumble when I picked Roscoe up at the vet and they said, “Oh, you’re here for the biter!” What? I thought I was here for the cute little guy who just needed a bath, some love, good food and medicine – not “the biter.”     

It turned out Roscoe had the worst ear infection the vet had ever seen and even after treatment, he would still be nearly deaf. He had a mouth full of rotten teeth that needed to be pulled, once he was in better shape. Roscoe was elderly. He had one blind eye and the other one was infected, so when he gazed at you, it was with a vacuous, soul-less stare. His under-bite made his face look crooked. Flea allergies and skin infections had robbed him of most of his hair; what was left was a dull, grey-white color. Because of all of these things and some rough treatment along the way, Roscoe didn’t like to be touched - in fact, he would bite anyone who even tried.   

“He doesn’t seem to have much personality,” the vet said. “But maybe that’s because of all the health problems. Poor little guy. Good luck.” 

When we got home, Roscoe’s other issues became apparent. He ran around in a frenzy, pooping and peeing whenever and wherever he liked. He jumped on the furniture and up on the tables, searching for food as if he’d never been fed. He was like a mean little Whirling Dervish with some Tasmanian Devil thrown in.

I fed him a big meal and, to his credit, he quickly found his new dog bed and fell into a deep sleep. It was as if a full belly, a warm bed and the feeling of even temporary safety had overwhelmed his tiny tormented soul and it shut down peacefully for the night.

I fired off an email to the rescue, detailing all the reasons Roscoe wasn’t going work out. Then, something about the sight and sound of him enjoying that deep sleep touched my heart. I didn’t send the email and we gave Roscoe another chance…

Slowly but surely, Roscoe settled in. He became less wild and seemed to actually notice us – not with affection, but with tolerance. Roscoe still snapped when we tried to touch him, but he appreciated routine and regular meals and before long he would allow us to clip on his leash for walks and put a little coat on him when it was cold.    

Once he was well enough, Roscoe had his dental surgery and it worked a miracle. Without the terrible tooth pain, Roscoe became a new dog – friendly, affectionate and eager to interact. Even though he still didn’t like being picked up, the new Roscoe was a dog someone might actually want to adopt, so we had to decide if we were going to give Roscoe up or become his new forever family…Needless to say, Roscoe had wiggled his way into our hearts.    

Fast forward to Roscoe today and you’ll see a proud little fellow with a thick fluffy coat of apricot-colored hair. He likes being petted and having his head scratched; sometimes he even rolls over for a belly rub. He lets us bath and brush him. His one good eye has become expressive, dark and mischievous. He has the cutest button nose and that happy, excited, crooked smile would melt anyone’s heart. Roscoe is very vocal, too, prancing about barking orders when he thinks something needs to be done or softly yelping with his “inside voice” when he’s just trying to talk.       

Mr. Clark Googled Roscoe and now that he’s healthy, he looks like a purebred Norfolk Terrier – a breed the AKC describes as “fearless, active, compact and hardy.” They are admired for their “gameness, loyalty and great charm.” A “happy, spirited and self-confident” dog, they are known “barkers.” Norfolk Terriers are called “the perfect demon,” “self-confident dogs who carry themselves with importance and thrive on human contact.” Yes, that’s our Roscoe.

   

 

 

Sometimes the universe sends a surprise that has an obvious down side. But, if you accept it, go with it, believe and follow your heart, sometimes that down side turns around and the surprise becomes something wonderful. We got a demon who wasn’t so perfect at first, but now we can’t imagine life without him. Happy Anniversary, Roscoe!  

 

 

Man or angel? A blessing either way...

“Come thou fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing they grace; streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise” – 18^th Century Christian hymn

 

The strains of that simple, haunting hymn always bring tears to my eyes - no matter the context, no matter the version. There’s just something about those gentle chords and humble lyrics that open a fount of thankfulness in my heart – every time I hear the song.  

 

November is the month of thankfulness and the holidays a time of generosity. But, as easy as they both should be, the business of being thankful and generous can be tricky at times. It’s nice when it’s clear that the cause is just and giving is in order; but when things are not so obvious, the suspicious gates of my heart slam shut, making it easy to look the other way. The other day I had an instance of both happening, almost simultaneously, when I encountered a man who was having a bad day.

 

I was at the hardware store buying birdseed and as I wrestled the big bag into my car, the fellow approached me. He was an older man, with a head of white hair, wearing clean, if well worn,work clothes. He asked if he could help me with the birdseed, then asked if I could spare any amount of money at all.

 

“I spent the last money I had on gas to get here from Athens for a day of work, then the guy I was ‘sposed to work with didn’t show up. So here I am, no work, no money and not enough gas to get back home to Athens,” he said, an obvious edge of desperation in his voice.

 

I could tell he didn’t like asking for money, that it embarrassed him and hurt his pride. I’ve not had to bury my pride and ask for help many times, but when I did, it embarrassed and hurt me, too.

 

Initially, the suspicious gates of my heart slammed shut and I told him, no, I didn’t have any cash on me. In actuality, I had two crisp $20 bills in my wallet and while it would’ve been a no brainer to give the man $5, I didn’t want to part with a $20. He said, “Thank you anyway, ma’am,” then went back to his vehicle, which I now saw was parked next to mine.

 

It was an old Jeep, painted flat black, with some years and wear on it. There were tools in the back, arranged in an orderly fashion, and some PVC pipe mounted along the windows, like the man stored something of use in his work there. He stood behind his vehicle looking worried and tired. He kept flipping open an old flip phone and looking at it like he was about to make a call, but he never dialed. His shoulders were stooped as if a heavy weight lay on them.

 

Damn! I thought. Who am I to judge him? Here I was, well dressed and well fed, on my way to yoga class, with $40 in my wallet and a big bag of expensive bird seed in my car…Good Lord! How suspicious and self-absorbed do I need to be?

 

I motioned to the man to come over, then rolled down my window and handed him one of those crisp $20 bills. He took it quickly, staring at it in disbelief, then stuck his head through the car window and gave me a big awkward hug.

 

“Thank you, ma’am! God Bless you, ma’am! You don’t have any idea how much this means to me, ma’am!” he cried, tears visible in his eyes, still shaking my hand through the car window.

 

At that point, the suspicious curmudgeon in me returned or maybe I was just embarrassed by his enthusiasm – it clearly communicated a need that was real. Either way, I withdrew my hand and said sternly, “Now use that money for gas and maybe a snack  - not for anything else.”

 

“I will, ma’am,” he cried. “There’s a station right over there and I’m headed to it right now.”

 

As I pulled away, I saw him open his worn leather wallet and place that $20 bill gently in it, as if it was indeed, a precious thing. Then he headed towards his Jeep with a bit of bounce in his step, his shoulders no longer stooped. There was a lightness to him that made him almost glow…Hmmm! I thought. Had I just had an encounter with an “angel unaware” as I call them, referring to one of my favorite Bible verses, Hebrews 13:2: “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

 

There have been times when $20 meant an awful lot to me. During those times, someone - a friend, a family member or a stranger – always came along to help me. In those cases, they were the angel helping a person in need. In this case, the person who needed help was the angel - not me.

 

It’s good to be reminded of how blessed I am and to be made aware of how quickly those doors of judgment and suspicion can shut down my heart…“There but by the grace of God, go I,” may be a cliché, but it’s also true. And, I’m thankful to that fellow for reminding me of that, whether he was an angel or a man.    

 

 (I took the photo in New Orleans one hot Sunday morning. This man was singing "Amazing Grace" at the top of his lungs, in an alley way, beautifully and with such joy...No one seemed to listen or care. Sad, because he was definitely an angel sent down to praise God, whether people listened or not.)

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

from Halloween to thankfulness...

 

 “If the only prayer you say in your whole life is ‘Thank you,” that would suffice.” – Meister Eckhart

 

This week we move from the month of ghosts and goblins into the month of thankfulness. And, even in the context of this really beautiful time of year - the trees on fire with colorful leaves and the air so crisp, cool and fresh – thankful is sometimes a hard thing to remember to be.

 

“We count our miseries carefully and accept our blessings without much thought,” a Chinese proverb says. So true, so much of the time…

 

How often do we nurse some hurt, worry or problem at the expense of remembering the many things we have to be grateful for? Try as I do, to stay focused on my blessings, too often I find myself dwelling on my “hurt, worry or problem” list. With a life as rich and well-blessed as mine, there is no excuse for having to stop consciously, breathe and focus in order to remember how good life is. That should be where my mind rests – not where I have to pull it.  

 

The other night was Halloween and Mr. Clark and I gave out candy. I like watching the parade of trick-or-treaters in their bright costumes, attentive parents with flashlights hovering nearby. I like to see what the kids are wearing and I enjoy watching them pick carefully and thoughtfully from the big candy bowl, when I tell them to choose three of any kind they like.  

 

We didn’t have as many trick-or-treaters as we used to, but the ones who came were in good spirits. A surprising number of them yelled, “Happy Halloween!” or a really excited “Trick-or-Treat!” as they came bounding up our walk and almost all of them said “Thank you!” without being prompted by their parents as they left.

 

Some of the kids wore elaborate costumes that clearly involved either a good bit of money or a good bit of time or both; others wore something slapped together at the last minute. They all seemed to be having a good time.

 

Amidst all the princesses and super heros, ninjas, ghouls and Hello Kitty cats, one little guy stood out. He looked to be about five - clearly a busy and enthusiastic fellow. He was dressed in red long johns and brown cowboy boots. His face was painted to look sort of like The Joker from Batman. He picked his three pieces of candy quickly, thanked us loudly and whole heartedly, then stood taking it all in, bubbling with energy and joy.  

 

“I like your dogs,” he said, about the motley canine crew barking and hurling themselves at our front door. “I like your candles,” he said, about the brightly lit Jack-O-Lanterns. “I like your house,” he said, staring up at the tall columns towering over our front porch. “Wow!” he said, with a big smile on his face, “Wow!”    

 

“I like your costume,” Mr. Clark said. “Are you The Joker?”

“No!” the little guy exclaimed indignantly. “I’m a Dead Clown!”

At that point we noticed his older, much quieter brother standing next to him, wearing a thermal shirt, camouflage pants and a red clown nose.

“And, I’ve got his nose!” the brother said. Then they laughed and ran down the walk, into the night, calling “Happy Halloween!”

           

Something about the little guy’s joy was contagious and, Mr. Clark and I couldn’t stop laughing as one of us said, “Are you The Joker?” and the other replied, “No! I’m a Dead Clown!” Then, together, “And, I’ve got his nose!”

 

We stayed on the porch until all the candy was gone and the street fell quiet and dark.

“That was a good Halloween,” Mr. Clark said. I agreed, as we shared one more laugh about “And, I’ve got his nose!” 

 

Not all of our Halloweens have been such good ones. A few years ago, Mr. Clark was unemployed. We only had a little bit of candy to hand out, so we turned the porch light off early and went to bed with plenty of legitimate hurts, worries and problems to think about. Back then it seemed reasonable to focus on the sad things – there were so many of them and they loomed so large…

 

“I once had a garden filled with flowers that grew only on dark thoughts but they need constant attention and one day I decided I had better things to do,” said Brian Andreas and the StoryPeople.  I’m getting better at his approach - after all there are so many people with hurts, worries and problems so much bigger and more real than mine.

 

The holidays will soon be here – a time when, for many, the contrast between “hurts, worries and problems” and “happy, thankful and well-blessed” becomes especially stark. I plan to take it all in with the same joy and enthusiasm that little Dead Clown had, laugh with the same glee he and his brother shared, and be as generous and kind as I possibly can, to as many as I possibly can. And, the one prayer I will pray will be a heartfelt “Thank you.”