WORDS TO LIVE BY

A few months ago, a patient’s mother sent me a beautiful composition she had written about the time we spent together during her son’s illness. It brought me to tears. It’s not that I said anything profound, but to her, it was meaningful. I am honored and grateful she shared her memories with me.  

The experience reminded me how important it is to express gratitude to others. Truth be told, I don’t even remember saying the things she found so significant; I’ve had similar conversations with more people than I care to count. What’s so momentous is the fact she remembered it years later, and most importantly, shared her gratitude with me. I made a difference and she wanted me to know.

I’m not good at that. I appreciate so many people, yet I rarely tell them so. I’m just not one to tell others their outfit is cute, or their kindness was noticed. I think it…I just don’t say it…and I don’t know why.  What is it about sharing gratitude that feels so awkward and uncomfortable? I envy those who do that naturally. I’m always afraid people may think I’m running for office or selling raffle tickets.

I think it’s fair to say we may never know the difference we’ve made in the lives of others. That said, from this day forward, I pledge to change my ways! The new and improved me will acknowledge those people who make a difference in my life. I will express gratitude to those who say or do things that make my heart smile and I will resist the urge to remain silent – tall task but I’m up for it!

I used to regret a lot, like all the time. I regretted doing things and I regretted not doing things. I even had a t-shirt that had ‘Nothing is more painful than regret’ printed on the back. (I was serious about regret.) After years of rumination and hindsight, I regret to inform you, regret is a colossal waste of time.

Life rarely gives us a do-over. And even if we could, would we? I have enough life experience to be able to reflect on the many crossroads I’ve met along my journey to this moment, times when I could have turned left, but I chose to turn right. I will be honest and say I may have reached my destination kicking and screaming, but I have no doubt it was where I belonged.

There were certainly more than a few misguided detours.  There were times I didn’t trust my instincts and times I let fear take the lead. There were times I let others choose the path and I followed behind, regretting every step. Even in those instances, I can now see the benefit of those experiences.

I no longer have room for regret in my life. As Oprah says, “When you know better, you do better.” It may have taken me several do-betters, but in the end, all of those moments and missteps made me who I am today. Flawed and faith-filled, I am who I am.

I would ask what you regret, but ain’t nobody got time for that!

Have you ever been wrong? I mean 100% certifiably incorrect. I found myself in that position recently. For years (like decades), I thought ameliorate meant to wipe out. In reality, ameliorate means to make better. This revelation came as quite a surprise. If you are a lover of words like me, imagine my shock when I realized I had been mistaken and misspoken for years!

I wonder what people thought when I used the word ameliorate incorrectly? Maybe:

What an idiot!
Huh?
What the heck does ameliorate mean?

I’m a big believer in reading with a dictionary nearby. In fact, when my nieces were young, we had a book club every summer. I instilled the habit of using a dictionary by asking them to explain the definition of unfamiliar words we read. I loved those book clubs. I think the girls were 7 or 8 when we started, and we continued until they went to high school. If you have littles in your family, I highly recommend a summer book club. It’s a wonderful way to spend time with them…and…they are reading in the summer! What a great way to ameliorate their reading skills!! (See the difference😊)

I am not a fan of the word retired. For many people of a certain age, their lifelong goal was to retire, leave the rat race, and enjoy a life of leisure. In 2021, retirement is being postponed for all kinds of reasons, most of which necessitate working well beyond the golden age of 65.

As I was contemplating my next chapter, I found the word retired unpleasant and unsettling. For me, the word beckons images of boredom, aimlessness, and a further spiral toward senility. Who looks forward to that? I grew up in a home where a strong work ethic was instilled early and often. My father supported his wife and seven children on a plumber’s salary. The older children helped with the littles, we all had chores, and everyone pulled their weight. Some of us drove a wrecker when our father opened a salvage yard. Slothfulness is not in my DNA.

I found the idea of sitting around doing nothing much more appealing than actually sitting around doing nothing. In fact, I never got to that stage. Before I left my 8-5 job, I decided I wanted to “redesign” my career, a word I find more palatable. My son suggested I create a wish list of new occupations I wanted to try. My list included teaching, working at a nursery surrounded by plants and flowers, leading meditation walks at the Denver Botanic Garden, and opening a private grief counseling practice. In addition, I wanted to continue working in end-of-life care but scale back to part-time. A year after I created my “redesign,” all of those opportunities had come to fruition. And now, four years later, it’s time for a new list. For starters, I’m creating this blog.

What’s on your wish list?

I am blessed to have a mom that always knows exactly what to say:

“If you don’t tell me when something’s wrong, how will I know what to pray for?”

“I don’t have a favorite child; all seven of you are my favorites.”

“Cindy, Denise, Gary…whoever you are, quit doing that.”

“Just think what he’d be like if he didn’t go to church at all.”

“Those expiration dates on bottles don’t mean anything.”

“If he’s still here, there’s still hope.”

“I’ve never really exercised; I had seven kids to keep up with, that was enough exercise for me.”

“Say to yourself, this is what I’m going to do, now how do I make it happen?”

“It’s the only way I can accept that they are gone.” (When asked why Thy Will Be Done was chosen for her sons’ headstone.)

Happy Mother’s Day to the wisest, most faith-filled woman I know.

When Gregg Allman and Eddie Van Halen went to the SRO gig in the sky, the soundtrack of my life went with them. It’s not that I don’t enjoy all types of music, it’s just that those two were my jam. Feeling sad and melancholy, listen to the Allman Brothers. Wanna rock out, turn up Van Halen…really, really loud. I’ve run hundreds of miles with Dave, Sammy, and the VH boys keeping me company. There are people and places that will always and forever be memorialized by their songs.

I used to wonder what would happen when the G.O.A.T. were no longer with us. I imagined it would feel similar to when you ejected your favorite cassette and the tape got stuck in your boombox. I guess the older generation felt the same when Frank and Dean got the call to perform for their celestial fans.

Thankfully, JoBo, and Derek and Susan, continue to pick tunes. Van Morrison still sings my personal theme song, Brown Eyed Girl, and Rod Stewart may say he’s Forever Young but in reality, he’s like 150 so I’m not sure we can count on him for many new tracks. Thank God for Eric, Buddy, and Gary Clark, Jr. They give me hope that rock and roll will never die.

I once thought turning 21 was an automatic entry into adulthood. The clock strikes 12, the 21^st birthday arrives, and adulting commences. Now that I have myriad decades of experience to draw from, I now know adulting is cyclical:

Leaving for college – quasi-adulting
Investing in college – adulting

Vacationing without your parents – adulting
Vacationing with your grandkids without their parents – adulting

Leasing an apartment without a co-signer – adulting
Buying a house and a sectional to furnish it – adulting

Moving across the country for the person of your dreams – adulting
Saying “my wife” or “my husband” for the first time – adulting

Buying a car without your dad – adulting
Looking in the rearview mirror and realizing the car seat, and the baby in it, belong to you – adulting

Orthodontia, broken bones, car insurance – adulting
Hearing aids, broken hips, health insurance – adulting

Burying a beloved friend – adulting
Learning your baby is having a baby – adulting

Discussing end-of-life wishes with your aging parents – adulting
Being the aging parent – adulting

What did I miss?

The word surrender has gotten a bad rap. I think a lot of people hear the word surrender and envision waving a white flag and conceding defeat. The battle is over. There is a definite winner and loser. Visions of fight or flight come to mind. However, that’s only one definition.

A kinder, gentler version of surrender suggests allowing circumstances to unfold without expectation or attempts to influence the outcome. A leaning in, if you will. We consciously loosen our grip and wave the peace flag, surrendering to the experience. We breathe deeply and ease into the situation trusting that a higher power, or God, or the Universe wants the best for us. We focus on peace and acceptance. Most importantly, we relinquish control, because quite frankly, we never had it in the first place.

Recently, a friend was purging her wardrobe and invited me to choose whatever I liked from her discard pile. As we approached her closet, she asked innocently, “What size are you?” That very innocuous question stopped me in my tracks.

Over the years, I’ve been a size 6, a size 12, and everything in between. I’ve bought outfits too small “for when I lose weight.” I’ve refused to buy new jeans until I was a size Something. I have dresses that still fit 10 years later and clothes that will require surgery if I’m ever to wear them again. It seems a strange paradox that, as my height diminished, my weight did not.

Sadly, I’ve been known to secretly accuse the dry cleaners of shrinking my clothes. I’ve been reduced to doing squats to stretch tight pants and who hasn’t laid on the bed to zip their jeans? It seems to me Large is the new Medium and size 10 may or may not fit an average body. Which begs the question, what is average? When I find my weight on the BMI chart, I’m reminded I need to grow a few inches.

After spending way too much time contemplating the question, I’ve decided I’m a size comfortable. If it pinches, puckers, or pulls, I’m not wearing it. This decision inevitably results in me wearing the same outfit every time I leave the house but at least I can breathe, sit, and eat without fear of an embarrassing roll (not the buttered kind). I’m hoping to rekindle the elastic waistband trend of yore. Comfort or bust!

Why the aversion to using a blinker? Were you absent the day proper blinker usage was taught in drivers ed? Did the car salesman fail to point out the location of the blinker? Do you lack the strength to push the blinker up or down? (If so, bicep curls may be in order.) Have you forgotten how to use the blinker? (That’s a scary topic for another rant blog!)

Where I live, people either do not use their blinker at all, or use it at the exact moment they merge in front of another vehicle (and then slam on the brakes). Evidently using a blinker is not a high priority in Colorado. I am not a perfect driver by any means, but I cannot understand why using a blinker is so dang difficult.

And while we’re on the subject, let’s review stop light rules. Didn’t everyone learn the ditty:

Red means stop; Green means go; Yellow means go slow!

Nowhere in the song does it say, Red means continue through the intersection. 

Again, where I live, you can absolutely, positively count on one car going through the intersection after the light turns red. It is not unusual for another car to join in just for the fun of it. And, on an especially perilous day, three cars may parade through the intersection. I don’t get that either. Is their time more important? Don’t they mind endangering the lives of others? Do they own multiple vehicles so that when their car is in the body shop after causing an accident, it’s not a giant pain in the rear end?

Full disclosure, the other day, I rolled through a stop sign. I looked both ways and proceeded slowly through the intersection. A cyclist, who was nowhere near the intersection but observed the violation, yelled, “You rolled right through that stop sign. You’re supposed to STOP.” At first, I was offended; how dare he yell at me! Would he have yelled at a male driver? In the current era of road rage, such an outburst seemed pretty risky. However, as the day wore on and his tirade stayed with me, I had to admit, I did roll through the stop sign and I need to be more diligent about coming to a complete stop. And so, thank you, Mr. Bikeridingyeller, for the not-so-subtle but effective reminder to drive safely.