Deep Down Gratitude

It has been a long time since I have taken the time to write. That doesn't mean I have not had times of joy and many moments of joyful thoughts. I'm pretty good at pondering, but I've been slow to compose my thoughts. 

This thought has been on my mind for the past couple of years, and I have often repeated it to my family. "To have wealth, one must have two things - charity and gratitude. You must be grateful for what you have, and you must be willing to share it generously and without expectation of a return." I could write on this topic all day and expound on my personal economic policy. Fear not, I will spare you this time. What I want to reflect upon today is profound gratitude. 

Recently, we had a very pleasant trip to New York. We enjoyed visiting with our family and friends whom we dearly love. We stayed in a local hotel. In fact, it was the very hotel where I worked for several years as a maid during high school and college. That was 35 years ago when I learned for myself how hard it is to clean bathrooms and make up a couple hundred beds in one day. I also worked there in the laundry and folded so many sheets and towels that I would daily wear off the skin on the palms of my hands. It was very hard work, even for a young energetic body. I don't think there was a minute when I enjoyed it, but I knew that if I were to return to college each fall, I would need to do this back breaking work. I was grateful for the employment, and I remember that I earned the minimum wage of $2.37 per hour. 

Well, on this recent trip, I recognized a familiar face at the hotel. One of the maids who worked with me in 1977, is still working there today. She has recently advanced to the position of head housekeeper, but for about 35 years, she has continuously performed the tasks that I remember as being so hard. While I was earning a BS degree in music education, she was cleaning. As I earned an MA degree in music performance, she was cleaning. While I moved to Virginia and reared five children and enjoyed teaching hundreds of music students, she was cleaning. A huge volume of water has passed under my bridge of life in the past 35 years. Through it all, she was cleaning and then coming home exhausted to her own home and children. Her face looks much older and more careworn. She was happy to see me, and she asked if there was anything that I needed for my hotel room. I had to choke back my tears as I thanked her and refused her kind offer to serve me. 

This is not a treatise on who should have to work and for how long, nor is it an attempt to cast pity. It is a deep heartfelt thank you for the opportunities that have blessed me these last 35 years. I am profoundly grateful for my education, the sacrifices of my parents, the devoted care of my husband, the support of my friends, and the many experiences I have had to spread my wings and achieve my dreams. To my housekeeper colleague, I salute you. To my God and Protector, I most humbly thank Thee. Without consideration of any financial sums, which, in my book, is never an indicator of wealth, I feel abundantly blessed and eager to share. May you feel similarly.

Over My Head

Written on June 25, 2010

Today started off very noisy, but by noon, we had a new roof on our house.  It gives me joy to see it and to know that we are protected with lovely shingles with a lifetime warranty, but it is even more joyful to reflect on all the life that has gone on under that roof.  Our five children have grown up here and are now beginning to bring their own children to rejoice with us under this roof.  Under this roof we have been protected from the storms and stress of life, both physically, and most especially, spiritually.  It gives me joy to think of all that has happened here and all that will yet happen, all under new Georgetown Grey, high definition shingles.  It is a metaphor for the love of God that has surrounded us, blessed us and protected us for so many years. 

The Circle of Life

Written on June 17, 2010

Today I had a wonderful visit from a former student and her 2 sweet little daughters.  I was delighted to see Jen.  I was her teacher for 10 years and have watched her grow from a little girl to a lovely young mother.  She was a joy to teach, and she is still a joy to see again.  Before she leaves town, she will stop by again, and I will teach her little girl a few notes on the piano.  Yes, I feel a little old, but mostly very complete.  Life is beautiful!

The First Entry

A note from the blog manager~ this was my mother's first "Moments of Joy" entry, sent out in an email.  Now that I have convinced her to let me publish her words, I'm slowly going to add to her current entries, those she has previously written, starting with this one, written on June 8, 2010.  You will be able to recognize these previously written entries by the "written on" date I will be sure to always list at the top.

Written on June 8, 2010

 I can't seem to get into blogging.  It takes too long.  Today while taking my morning walk, I decided to start a daily (ok, almost daily) practice of writing and sending a short note called "What I did for joy" to a group of folks who are dear to me.  I want to spend a minute each day thinking of something I did that day that brought me joy.  Thank of it as Cindy's little zen place.  Trust me, the rest of the day did not go so well, but reflecting on the happy spot can't hurt.  So, here is today's.

You know I love spring time in Virginia.  This morning was picture perfect, sunny, 65 degrees and breezy, perfect for an early  morning walk.  It was 7:30 AM, and the pressures of the day had not yet started.  I walked my usual route, but I took myself with me.  You see, I listened on my I-pod to a digitized performance of myself singing in 1982, when I was a much younger and more agile soprano.  Anyway, the singing sounded beautiful to me this morning.  I don't think I fully appreciated the gift when I was younger.  So, the springtime combined with the sweet high notes of Ricard Strauss, Puccini, Gounod, and others in a voice that is most familiar to me, made for a very pleasant walk.  I felt joy for an hour, and it helped to lift the burdens that were on my shoulders as the day wore on.  What will it be tomorrow?  Not sure yet.  Stay tuned.

Another Layer

It has been some time since I've written a new entry of joy.  As always, there have been plenty of joyful moments and a desire to write, but there have also been many demanding tasks and not enough hours of sleep.

As many of you know, I returned home a few days ago from a lovely visit with Lizzy and her three little ones at their home in Florida.  I treasured feeling surrounded with love every minute of my visit.  There was always a darling face and a set of soft cheeks to kiss easily within my reach.  When I snuggle the soft, warm heads, I feel my soul fill up with a wonderful glow that fills in all my empty spaces.  I loved every minute of romping in the surf of a beautiful white sand beach with Anny and Merrylee, twirling and playing "Ring around the rosy" until I was too dizzy to stand.  I loved playing games, reading dozens of story books, making Easter crafts, and spoiling the girls on a shopping trip.  I sparkled as I cuddled Baby Benjamin and delighted in his big smiles and baby talk.  

I loved it all, but there was an even deeper layer of fulfillment.  I watched in proud and profound completion, the magnificent character of my daughter.  She has grown to make my dreams for her come to their full potential.  I am so proud of her strength.  It is not easy to care for three little ones all day every day while her husband is away on military deployment.  Her job never has a break.  Through all of that exhaustion and loneliness, I see her standing like a rock.  Her faith is strong and is an example to all who know her.  I heard some of her friends talking about how their family lives are better because they have followed Lizzy's example of faith and devotion to raising her family immersed in the daily routines of prayer and scripture study.  Her children are sweet and confident and secure.  They are growing and thriving in their spiritual and academic development.  They are happy and well adjusted.

It all requires great effort, but I see Liz doing all of the things I have wished for her, and I see the blessings in her life and the lives of her children.  Watching her family life feels like a bountiful harvest for me.  The fruits of my labors in her childhood are coming to their maturity in a very pure and beautiful way.  It is another layer to my joy that I don't think I could ever have anticipated.  I'm confident that my life's work will not end with me.  What is dear and precious to me lives on through my daughters and sons and their daughters and sons, and so on forever.  It makes all of those midnight feedings and taunts from fellow grad students as I tried to haul my pregnant self into a desk seem very indifferent now.  My early days of motherhood were rich with blessings two or three decades ago, but they are exponentially sweeter now.    

A Quarter of a Century, and I Remember it All

Time is a great healer.  Memories that were hard soften to reflections on blessings received and lessons learned.  Perhaps that is how old people become as wise as they are. 

This afternoon I drove Peter to the hospital to visit a young friend.  I had an hour or so to wait, so I went to a family waiting room on the pediatrics floor, and I was not prepared for what I would see.  Or maybe I was.  Four mothers of patients were there, surrounded by family and friends.  Some were obviously suffering as their tears and anguish were evident.  After awhile, I couldn't stand to watch it anymore, and I moved to another lobby. 

The thought came to mind that I personally understood the feelings of those mothers.  I have sat in that very hospital in a state of shock and sorrow and worry as my four week old daughter suddenly was in critical care with no major organ systems functioning on their own.  I felt the disconnect, the out of body sensation when reality becomes too overwhelming to process.  I felt the gripping fear when I dared to think about what could happen and how I would deal with it.  I felt the exhaustion and the worry about my two other little ones back at home.  I struggled to understand the medical terms and processes and procedures.  It was a swirling sea of anguish that I wished I could have avoided.

I remembered it all today, but what I didn't think of until our drive home was that today is the very anniversary of that scary day back in 1987.  It has been 25 years.  That baby girl is now a mother.  While I can still recall the horror, much of it has softened to peaceful gratitude.  Many people came to our aid back then.  While expert physicians worked day and night to save our baby, our friends and family cared for our little girls and our home.  They prayed for us and visited us with hugs and encouragement.  They held me when the tears came weeks and months, and even years after the crisis was over. 

A quarter century has come and gone since then.  There are life events that I can't say I am grateful to have experienced, but I am profoundly grateful for the lessons I have learned.  Maybe I'll become a wise old lady some day.  I hope so, at least the wise part.