Blank Slate

Yesterday I finished the final task of a project that has consumed me for two years. In the next month and a half, I’ll finish another major responsibility.

I’m looking at a blank slate.

Grandma Moses started painting at the age of 78, after her sister-in-law suggested it. She painted 1500 works of art before she died at the age of 101.

I’ve been told I am “gifted with words,” so my new focus is writing. I wonder what I’ll create?

You write it: When have you had a blank slate? What did you do with it?

Christmas Is Here

This year Christmas is a season, rather than an event. The day after Thanksgiving, our decorations began to go up, gradually, filling our home with happy memories of joyful, peaceful times. Something special has happened each day: a hike, making divinity, wrapping a gift; but it was a gentle process that prevailed. Nothing was forced or given exhausting importance.

No one is coming this Christmas. But Christmas is here.

A Christmas Story

When my daughter was 16 months old, just before Christmas, she contracted spinal meningitis. A vigilant nurse realized she had been misdiagnosed with pneumonia and called the doctor back to the hospital ASAP. Her action led the doctor to say, "I think we caught the meningitis early enough that there won't be any permanent damage--if she lives."

For 10 long days Anne Marie lay lifeless in an oxygen tent with tubes keeping her fed and medicated. Then, on Christmas Eve, the doctor came in, unhooked all the tubes, and removed the tent. I picked her up and held her close.

The nurse saw the panic on my face when Anne Marie couldn't hold her head up. Reassuringly, she said, "Don't worry. These little ones recover quickly." By the end of the day, my precious daughter was running down the hospital hallway.

That night, I slept more soundly than I had slept for many days, lying in a hospital bed beside my healthy daughter. Sometime during the night, someone crept in and left a flannel stocking filled with small toys.

Every year I hang a red flannel stocking and give thanks for the doctor and nurses who saved my daughter's life. I pray for the hospitals, doctors, and nurses who are saving others' loved ones right now.

You write it: What is your story of an exceptional Christmas gift?

Clarity

Out of all the chaos, confusion, and concern of 2020, I’m grateful for the clarity that has come. I want

• To be informed, not inflamed.

• Food that nourishes, rather than entertains.

• Spiritual practice that feeds my soul.

• Fewer words, more meaning.

• Substance, not sensation.

You write it: In 2020, what has become clear for you?

Gift for the Heart

My brother is a late sleeper. Recently I visited him in his new home, a 7-hour drive from Sedona. We had a wonderful time. Days later, when I was ready to return home, I planned to leave early in the morning. The night before, I said, “Don’t bother to get up. I can let myself out.”

The next morning, when I arose, I saw him through the patio doors, sitting outside in the dark. That sight touched my heart. In spite of his aversion to morning, he was there for me.

In this season of gift-giving, it’s good to reflect on the gifts for our hearts.

You write it: When has someone given your heart a gift?

Divinity

To be present, in a way, at my brother/sister/niece’s Thanksgiving, I decided to make a batch of divinity and mail it to them to enjoy during the visit. When my husband heard my plans, he insisted I make two batches, one for him.

So, on a recent morning, I began. The first batch, try as I might, would not harden. Finally, after beating and beating and beating, I gave up and poured it in a buttered Pyrex pan. I set the pan aside and then began the second batch, thinking Harlan would just have to eat his candy with a spoon.

The second batch turned out well, hardened easily. I packed it, addressed the package, and took it to the Post Office. Only after I returned, did I muster the courage to check on the first batch. Unbelievably, it felt firm to my touch. Then I sliced it into cubes of delicious divinity. No spoons required.

Why am I telling you this? Because every now and then something happens to bring home the truth that when I stop beating, let go, and let God, miracles happen.

You write it: When do miracles happen for you?

Being Fully Present

Yesterday, I was struck by the presence of Tiger Woods in the Masters award presentation to a new champion. He was fully attentive to everyone’s comments. He accepted praise from the amateur champion with silent grace. He seemed genuinely pleased to award the green jacket to his successor.

So often, when I am with others, my mind is wandering. I’m thinking of something else or what I will say next or glancing at my phone.

Yesterday I saw what being fully present—simply being in the moment—looks like. I like it. I’m setting it as a goal.

You write it: With others, how fully present are you?

Gratitude

Quite a few years ago, when my life was in upheaval, I learned the simple practice of gratitude. Although I had two healthy, successful children, a good job, and many advantages, I did not know how to be truly grateful. So I decided to practice. I realized my first progress when I looked at the gas gauge in my car and felt true gratitude, from my heart, that I could afford gasoline.

Since that moment, I start most days with a gratitude list. It changes my perspective and gives me a good day, no matter what.

Today I am grateful that a record number of Americans voted. I’m also grateful for a beautiful sunrise.

You write it: What’s your experience with gratitude?

Dutch Babies

One of our favorite breakfast dishes is Dutch babies, flat pancakes served with toasted almonds, berries, and a heap of powdered sugar on top. I add a couple of slices of bacon on the side.

Since the pandemic, we have invited friends, one couple at a time, for breakfast on our back patio, which has a splendid view of the red rocks of Sedona.

Most of the time, the friends we invite have stayed all morning, just visiting and enjoying the fresh air. We have come to treasure these simple times.

During the pandemic, are there any simple times you have come to treasure?

Narrowing? Or Expanding?

Sometimes I think of discipline as narrowing—getting back between the lines, so to speak. I associate the word with constricting.

But in a meditation with friends, this concept completely changed. I had a dream about a house where I was staying. My room was in the front of the house. When I decided to explore, I found room after room after room. This house was huge! Every room was furnished, but not with more than was needed.

In the meditation, which we worded as “We discard toxicity and choose what is good, truthful, and pure,” what came to me was this scripture: “In my father’s house are many mansions.”

Now I think of discipline as expanding. How do you think of discipline?

Burst of Energy

On this crisp fall morning, after my meditation, I decided to put on some Broadway music and glide through the kitchen. By the time I finished, I had made split pea soup in the slow cooker, six sausage biscuits for my husband, and put two loaves of pumpkin bread, gluten-free, in the oven.

All this was interspersed with cleaning the refrigerator, stove-top, appliances, and counters, as well as unloading the dishwasher, emptying the trash, and changing the sheets on the bed.

When I looked at the clock, it was only 10:00.

This burst of energy was so much fun. Where it came from—the weather, my diet, the music, my meditation with friends, God—I don’t know. I do know that I am grateful.

You write it: Have you had a burst of energy lately?

In Flow

Dawn breaks.

Chill autumn morning begins.

Yet in my heart I know

These stops and starts are truly continuum.

The stops and starts are within me.

I choose to stay in flow.

RBG

“Fight for the things you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you.” Ruth Bader Ginsburg

I’m taking Justice Ginsburg’s words to heart. My prayer is to respect contrary opinions and speak with love and truth. Thank you, RBG

Pruning

Yesterday I pruned the rose bushes. This morning, as I look out the window, I see streams of light flowing through them and realize, “Now they can breathe!” They seem happier, leaves less crowded.

In these times, so many are cleaning, clearing, pruning, and setting themselves free from overcrowded schedules, clutter, and obligations. Is it possible that we might be preparing for healthier, happier lives?

At the same time, I’m told that these times are very difficult for people with addictions, and deaths are increasing.

So this morning my friends and I set this intention: “Prune the addictions that keep us trapped. Set all souls free.”

Grace

The invitation was for socially distanced appetizers on their patio in the late afternoon. I expected some cheese and crackers with maybe a few grapes.

Instead, my husband and I experienced small plate after plate of elegant, fresh hors d’oeuvres from a recipe collection our hostess had been saving for years.

By the end of the evening, I felt that I had been showered with generosity.

You write it: Have you ever experienced treatment that went far beyond in grace?

Tapestry

A woman loses her struggle with alcoholism the day before a man celebrates 20 years of sobriety.

In a quiet morning moment, I enjoy a cup of hot tea.

A deadly virus is held at bay with face masks.

A young woman starts college.

A bichon lies sleeping at the foot of the bed.

A cowboy gets bucked off a horse in the moment his sister buys plants for her yard.

Tapestry.

Light Touch for Heavy Lifting

Last week I decided to go through the filing cabinet in the garage, mostly an accumulation of 20+ years of bank statements, income tax forms, and business information. Some, but not all, of it needed to be shredded. Because the task seemed tedious and monumental, I decided it didn’t matter when I finished. I would just do a bit when I wanted.

Here’s what astonished me—within a week, it was done. Not only were the files sorted, but also the filing cabinet itself was sold—on Facebook Marketplace. Unbelievably easy.

If I had told myself, “This has to be done within the week,” it would have seemed impossible. I would have resisted, made it hard. As it was, I did heavy lifting with a light touch.

You write it: Have you experienced what seems a contradiction? What was it?

Blessing of These Times

On one of our walks this week, we came upon a woman in a hat and sunglasses, waiting for her dog (Miss Kitty) to relieve herself, so my husband struck up a conversation.

Before long, we discovered we knew several of the same people from my days in Texas education. Then, as I listened more carefully, I realized I had this same conversation with a woman I met at a neighborhood party a couple of years ago—a gathering of about 75 people, all talking loudly, eating, and drinking.

Having the same conversation with the same person in nature’s quiet, was actually a different conversation. I could take in her words and reminisce about those people we knew in common. And I felt I knew my fellow walker in a new way.

Parties—crowds—noise—visual stimuli—are distractions that keep me from fully appreciating what someone is saying. This is a blessing of these times.

What is a blessing of these times for you?

Timeless

Last week I learned of the death of a friend from Covid-19. The first death of someone I know. The numbers are now real, and I’m drawn towards despair. Alan Isaacson was only 62 years old. One of the good guys. The husband of my friend. Someone who helped the mentally ill and the desperate. Someone with a lot more love to give.

So what can I do? First, send my love to the family, who are experiencing unimaginable, unexpected grief.

Then what?

Ironically, the answer comes from Martin Luther in a 1527 letter to a friend, who had asked what a Christian should do during the plague. Luther wrote, "I shall ask God mercifully to protect us. Then I shall fumigate, help purify the air, administer medicine, and take it. I shall avoid places and persons where my presence is not needed in order to not become contaminated and thus perchance infect and pollute others."  493 years later, a reminder of another way to express love—keeping ourselves and others as safe as possible. Thanks to Pastor David Brandfass for calling this quotation to my attention.

You write it: How do you express love for yourself and others during this time?

One Day at a Time

Twenty years ago my husband and I embarked on programs of recovery based on the Twelve Steps. One of the first slogans we learned was “One day at a time.” Most of the time we truly live in the day, not worrying about what lies ahead or what is outside of our control. It’s been so helpful for both of us to be on the same page because when one of us slips, the other is there to remind to stay in the moment.

You write it: What do you do to stay out of worry?