Perfectly Timed Encouragement #2

After last week's blog, entitled "Perfectly Timed Encouragement," I received this response from my good friend and colleague Lindy Segall:  "2015 was to be MY year. Instead, it went into the books as one of disappointments, letdowns, even outright betrayal. . . . Just when I thought there was no way the year could get any worse, a best friend took his life, and I blamed myself for not doing more to help him.

"As I left the funeral services, I found a message on my cell phone--a new friend asking for help with his football team. Seems they were coming up short in teamwork, leadership, and communication--both on and off the field of play. It had been some time since I'd delivered that counsel to others. I prayed on it and listened. God said, 'You can--and should--do this.' 

"Some perfectly timed words of encouragement, and a call for help, helped me dig out of a dark place and focus my God-given gifts on others. In the process, my confidence and self-esteem were restored."

Last week I ran across this quotation from Ralph Waldo Emerson. It seems to fit:

There is a guidance for each of us, and by lowly listening we shall hear the right word. . . . Place yourself in the middle of the stream of power and wisdom which flows into your life. Then, without effort, you are impelled to truth and to perfect contentment.

You write it: When have you experienced the pathway to divine guidance, truth, and perfectly timed encouragement?

Perfectly Timed Encouragement

This morning I awoke to a posting on Facebook from someone who was in my sophomore English class oh, so many years ago. How did she know that her kind, affirming words were exactly what I needed to hear today?

Next week I will teach the first in a four-class class series in personal growth. It's been awhile since I've done anything like this, and I've been wondering if I will be effective, or if anyone will even sign up to be in the learning group. After all, we moved here only 7 months ago, and few people know me. Well, I found out that the class did make, and the very next morning I awoke to a strong affirmation from a gracious former student from my past.

Courage awakened in me as I realized how much I love teaching. My former student's encouragement came at exactly the right time, and I'm grateful.

You write it:  What has ever happened to encourage you at exactly the time when you needed it?

January

January, a gray month.

Allergy season.

Cold.

Through the muck of it all,

Shine the light of love into my heart.

Lift the clouds.

Let the sun shine through.

You write it:  I wondered if the word "muck" were right for this piece. Then I learned that one definition for "muck" is "fertilizer." Perfect. What is the month of January fertilizing for you?

Faith

As I slept, snow fell. Looking out over my white world the next morning, I see clouds meeting the hills, completely obscuring the familiar Bell Rock and Courthouse Butte from my view.

Yet I know, within the clouds, they are still there.

You write it:  When in your life has faith been dim? How did you find it again?

Wisdom from Two Readers

Blog reader Bob Fay wrote me this morning to share the following story:

A little boy got angry with his mother and shouted at her, "I hate you, I hate you." Because of fear of reprimand, he ran out of the house. He went up to the valley and shouted, "I hate you, I hate you," and back came the echo, "I hate you, I hate you." This was the first time in his life he had heard an echo. 

He got scared, went to his mother for protection and said there was a bad boy in the valley who shouted "I hate you, I hate you." The mother understood and she asked her son to go back and shout, "I love you, I love you." The little boy went and shouted, "I love you, I love you," and back came the echo.

That taught the little boy a lesson that our life is like an echo: We get back what we give. 

Benjamin Franklin said, "When you are good to others, you are best to yourself."

Awhile back, blog reader Gail Perkins shared this:

"I have a longtime friend in South Carolina who I was with last spring.  I read one of your blogs to her, and she expressed interest in having me share more of your thoughts.

"Now I could have sent you her email address so she could have received the mailings directly; however, I began by simply forwarding mine to her but always with the addition of my thoughts on your topic.  She, in turn, would respond by sharing what resonated with her or answering the questions you always pose at the end.

"This has resulted in a wonderful exchange between the two of us on topics that wouldn't normally come up in general conversations.  I think we've learned a lot more about each other than we knew before."

You write it: Which of these stories resonates with you? What words are you putting out into the world? What are you sharing with others?

Silence

At some stage in the

Process to find peace,

Words leave.

What remains is silence.

You write it: When has peaceful silence come for you? 

Spirit of Love at Christmas

The unadorned red flannel stocking filled with simple plastic toys was hanging on a corner of my daughter's baby bed as I opened my eyes to the gray dawn of Christmas Day in our hospital room.

For the last ten days my sixteen-month-old baby had fought a deadly battle with spinal meningitis, and she had won!

When my exhausted, grateful eyes saw the red flannel stocking, they filled with tears as I fully realized the spirit of love at Christmas.

You write it: Which Christmas memory comes to mind when you think of the spirit of love at Christmas?

Snow

Outside my window, light, wet snow is falling. The horizon is shrouded, a blur of whiteness. But accented against the dark trees, the snow gently falls as I sit, transfixed.

A gentle snow is calming, relaxing, restorative. It freshens and lifts my spirit. It says, "Everything that is past is over. I'm refreshing your life."

This is the true promise of Christmas.

You write it:  At this time of year, what refreshes and renews you?

The .5 Percent

99.5 percent of my life is wonderful. My health is good. I have everything I need and most of what I want. Loving, kind relationships prevail.

Except in the .5 percent. During holidays, filled with Hallmark movies where love prevails, reconciliation reigns, and gentle snow falls, I start focusing on the .5 percent. Old resentments rise up, and the .5% seems bigger than the 95.5.

It's during these times that I take longer meditations, focusing on forgiveness and letting go--seeing the beauty of my life and giving thanks--refocusing on the 95.5 percent. I imagine my life as a work of art, with one tiny flaw. Slowly, ever so slowly, the flaw fades and finally disappears.

You write it:  What we focus on gets stronger. During this holiday time with messages of perfection all around, what are you focusing on?

Pause

Thanksgiving is put away, and a glimmer of Christmas peeks from my mantle. Splashes of the season to come are unpacked and displayed, and the tree stands ready to be decorated.

But today, what I need most is pause. No season to clean up or prepare for. Just pause.

I don't know how long my pause will last. I only know I'm relishing silence, with both dogs napping and my husband on the golf course. Nature outside is going its own way.

As for me, I'm on pause.

You write it: Have you recuperated from the last season so you can regenerate for the next one? If not, when will you pause?

A Thanksgiving Prayer

After a long drive with excited children, we would pull into Mother's driveway. Immediately, I felt relief. For the next few days of Thanksgiving, I relaxed in safety and plenty. I was home.

Mother left that home many years ago. She no longer creates perfect Thanksgivings except in memory. I still miss the feeling of total relaxation when I walked through her door and the total delight when I opened her refrigerator.

This year our children will walk through our door to celebrate Thanksgiving. May they have total relaxation and peace from being here.

In gratitude, infuse our home, our food, our hearts with love that heals and replenishes. The love I learned from my mother.

A Perfect Day

Someone asked me once what is my idea of a perfect day. At the time, I gave an answer that was mostly about the activity I had packed into the day. But since, I have realized that a perfect day is one in which my heart is simply filled with gratitude. Like today.

Snow is falling as I write. Not the kind that snarls traffic and complicates life, but gentle snowflakes falling softly to the ground and melting. I'm grateful for the beauty and peace of it.

My husband and I had our favorite breakfast at a nearby restaurant. We sat next to a couple from San Antonio. When they left, a couple from Arkansas took their table. I'm grateful to live in a place where I meet and converse with interesting tourists who appreciate the beauty of Sedona and want to hear our stories of what it's like to live here.

I'm grateful for a day when I can simply stay in a warm house, watch the birds feeding from the seed I just left outside, and do what I feel like doing, from one moment to the next. A perfect day.

You write it:  What is a perfect day for you?

Hawks and Illusions

I heard the large bird hit the window, and I shuddered. I love birds and delight in watching them. As I walked to the window, I hoped to see a stunned bird who would soon right himself and fly away.

Instead, I saw a bird on its back, legs up, dead. Quickly, I turned my eyes away. Nearby, a large bluish gray bird I assumed to be his partner watched from the patio wall as my husband removed the carcass. My heart broke, thinking a pair had been separated by death.

The next morning that same bluish gray bird returned to the patio wall, looking for the missing one. I burst into tears and ran to my husband. "That bird is back to look for his partner! It makes me so sad."

He said, "Nancy, the bird who died was a quail. This bird you're looking at is a hawk, returning to look for a meal he thought he would get."

His words changed everything. This hawk looked different from those I normally see, and I didn't recognize a predator. Oh, my, the stories I can make up in my head!

You write it: Are there stories you have made up in your head that you need to share with someone, to get a different perspective?

The Freedom of Knowing Your Character Defects

Our character defects stick to us through the power of their emotional energy. When we shift the energy to a more desirable emotion, the defect loosens its grip.

Once when I was eating in a restaurant with friends, the water I had ordered was slow to be delivered. To my tablemates, I said something like, "Where is my water?" One of my friends said, "They must not know who you are!"

I laughed as I realized what I was doing, as humility replaced indignation.

I work with some people who say, "Oh, let's not be hard on ourselves. No need to talk about character defects."

I disagree.

When you name it and accept it, it loses its control over you. Then and only then are you free to laugh at yourself and make a different choice.

You write it:  When was the last time you felt ill at ease? What character defect was rearing its ugly head?

Piddling

Some of my happiest times are when I'm piddling. The way it works for me is that as I move through my day, if something gets my attention, I attend to it right away. 

During my last piddling period, I sat to pet the dogs as long as they wanted to be petted. I clipped the loose threads on the table runner I bought recently on our trip to San Miguel de Allende. I put out the pumpkin plate for display.

If I force myself to keep to the schedule I've made and disallow piddling, my thoughts of what's undone begin to mount in my brain, and I eventually become anxious or stressed. It's so much better if I do those small tasks as I recognize them. 

I don't believe this phenomenon is unique to me. I've noticed that my daughter's voice on the hone is happiest when she has a day to meander, walk, stop in her favorite shops, sit in the chair with a cat in her lap, or in her beautiful back yard with a coffee.

Piddling clears my heart and mind.

You write it:  What clears your heart and mind? When was the last time you did it?

The Gift of Authenticity

"Let the inner man and the outer man be one" is how Socrates said it. Today we call it authenticity. Being real. Living to the highest within us. Being true to our best selves.

Recently I received the gift of authenticity from Denise, whom I had just met. She had offered her home in San Miguel de Allende to guests for a mutual friend's wedding. Happily, my husband and I were invited to be one of only a few people to stay in this beautiful home in the old city, only a few blocks and easy walk from the hotel where the wedding occurred.

In this home, peace prevailed. It wasn't just the layout or the decor or the lush plants in the courtyard with fountain. It was the authenticity of the owner. 

Denise realized during the wedding festivities that she wasn't feeling well, so she left early to go to bed, where she stayed for the next few days. The last night we were there, she felt well enough to join us for dinner. We had invited her to a restaurant (our treat), but she didn't feel that going out would be good for her, so we found some leftover quiche that we had bought a couple of days before in the market. To that, we added some greens and peppers and tomatoes that she had in the refrigerator. For dessert, we sliced some fresh peaches and grapes that we had just bought on the street, combining them with apples we found in the refrigerator for a dessert fruit salad. We enjoyed conversation over this simple, uncomplicated, elegant meal.

The entire time we were there, we felt free to do what was right for us, with no obligations or expectations, no pretense or orchestration. Peace is the simple gift of authenticity.

You write it:  When have you received the gift of authenticity? When have you given it?

A Good Day

Recent rains have plunged the temperature into jacket weather. The leaves of the cottonwood are beginning to turn yellow, like their cousin the aspen. The crisp coolness and clear, bright air give new life to my spirit.

I had already put my beautiful glass pumpkins on the table in the entry to our home and adorned the dining table with an autumn arrangement--reminders that the seasons are shifting.

Then I bought the red clay pumpkin whose goofy grin greets me every morning from his perch on the patio, visible from my bed.

How could I not have a good day?

You write it:  What gives you a good day?

The Trail of Life

Where I live in Sedona are many hiking trails. They ascend, descend, and fork. They vary in difficulty. They wind around forests, streams, and rocks. They change with the seasons and weather and time of day. Big rocks sometimes move unexpectedly into the paths, as well as branches. Rains shift the terrain. Even experienced hikers sometimes get lost or stranded.

So it is with life. Sometimes even the guides among us--the ministers, intuitives, leaders--lose their way and need help.

On this trail of life, my goal is to live in serenity. I've gotten myself in shape for attaining peace of mind. I've followed a map that includes daily journaling to get troublesome thoughts out of my mind and onto paper so I can be rid of them. Each morning I meditate and set an intention for the day. Throughout my day, I am aware of what I'm thinking and feeling so that I make constant adjustments, keeping myself on the path and not wandering. To end the day, I express gratitude.

Sometimes my life's trail takes a turn I didn't expect or want. Sometimes a big boulder blocks my path. Sometimes I need help. That's when I make a phone call to a trusted advisor, listen carefully to the calmness in her voice, take a deep breath, and resume my journey.

You write it:  Right now, what is your life's trail like? Describe it. What will you do?

Compassion in Controversy

I've made a new friend whose life spins around controversy. It seems that each time we meet, her family is in crisis--or her church--or something in the news has triggered her outrage.

I've tried several different responses. I've listened and shared a personal story. Once in a text exchange, I simply wrote, "I have no opinion." She responded, "Seriously???!!!" She couldn't imagine it.

Most recently, I calmly explained where I stand on a particular issue without casting stones at anyone. I stood for my belief but not against anyone. So far, that approach has worked best.

What I'm searching for is compassion for someone who seems to thrive on dissension. Honestly, I don't like controversy. I ask myself, "How important is it?" In most cases, the answer is, "Not important at all," and I let it go.

But this friend is challenging me to this opportunity to learn compassion for those who seek controversy.

You write it:  What is your relationship with controversy?

Minding My Own Business

For whatever reason, I've felt that if I told people what they're doing wrong and point out how they should change, they would appreciate my wise words, thank me, and make the suggested adjustment.

I hope you're laughing right now at how preposterous and arrogant my thinking was.

My metamorphosis came in stages. First, I had to learn not to tell people what to do or how to behave. Then I had to accept the fact that my way isn't the only way. Recently my thought patterns have shifted so that I no longer even believe I know what's best for others.

In other words, I had to behave my way into believing. The result is the delicious freedom that comes from minding my own business.

You write it:  What pattern would you like to change? Where will you begin?