Remembering To Say Thank You

When the seriousness of the pandemic hit, it was quickly apparent that we needed to find a new way of working out. Going to a gym was no longer an option, and we weren’t ready to put our name on the waiting list for a Peloton. A neighbor had told us about a nearby logging road a fifteen minute drive from our house that he loved to explore with his malamutes. It was rarely used and had views that were worth the effort.

On April 11, 2020 we decided to check it out

We headed uphill, our dog Gracie at our heels with her hunter’s orange vest on since she is the color and size of a small bear. Within minutes it was apparent that if a good workout was what we were looking for, we had found it in this logging road.

From the first step it heads straight uphill for 1.7 miles. 2445 steps to the top, it has an elevation gain of just under 1000 ft. Talking on the way up wasn’t much of an option, but somewhere along that 1.7 mile, 2445 step slog I managed to gasp “Thank you Tom.”

And I’ve said it every trip to the top since.

So just what am I thanking him for?

On that first trek up I was thanking him for being willing to hike this road as a way to stay strong and healthy as we weathered the Covid storm together.

But now, with well-over 100 trips to the top and back?

It’s about thanking him for living life side-by-side through the thick and thin of it all, apologizing and accepting apologies, reflecting on a conflict on the way up so that we can resolve it on the way down, creating sacred rituals one footfall at a time, making new plans and jettisoning old ones, and navigating the slippery slopes and rocky terrain of life day in and day out. And for always carrying the bear spray.

In the beginning he was hiking the logging road because it was good for us. However, over time, all those trips up and down that road have become a metaphor for a life shared, and it is for that shared life that I am thankful.

And when we are thankful, it’s good to remember to say thank you.

“Thank you Tom.”

Come To The #wakeupappreciaterepeat Party.

This is a repeat of an earlier post. Given the ongoing COVID-19 crisis, I’m sharing it again in the hope of transforming this post into a shared practice.

If you want to join the #wakeupappreciaterepeat party, you are invited to post your three appreciations for the day on Instagram along with the hashtag, and invite any and everyone to join in.

Gratitude and appreciation matter more than ever.

Let’s get this party started!

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How we start any given day sets in motion our eventual arrival at the end.

I’ve done this particular practice on a hit or miss basis in the past. Not any longer. All hit, no miss.

It’s a simple practice and one that didn’t originate with me.

The very first thing, or no later than my first cup of coffee, I identify three things that I appreciate. To be honest, some days it is harder than others to come up with one, much less three. Thankfully, Sleepy Monk Coffee is an automatic go-to, because no matter how bleak or bright the day, I am always grateful for that first sip, which means I’m already a third of the way to my goal. One down, two to go.

To stay on track, I text my three things to the daughter who shared this practice with me in the first place, and she texts her three back, along with the practice hashtag.

Sleepy Monk Coffee

My husband Tom

Connection - Virtual or otherwise

#wakeupappreciaterepeat

Not a bad way to start the day.

(With gratitude to Lo for sharing this life-giving practice.)

Working With What We’ve Got

It is so easy to add something new. To take a quick trip to the grocery store for a few more things rather than using what’s already in our fridge. To search for another piece of clothing rather than using what’s already in our closet. To take another online course rather than using the gifts and skills already in our wheelhouse. To paint the walls a different color rather than working with the one that’s already there.

Learning to work with what we’ve got calls on our creativity and imagination.

Learning to work with what we’ve got helps us put our talents to good use in new ways.

Learning to work with what we’ve got expands our capacity to solve problems.

Learning to work with what we’ve got teaches us to be content with what have.

Learning to work with what we’ve got helps us to be grateful for the life that is already ours.

Today a dear friend showed up with lunch in the midst of a big day of moving another dear friend into her new home. Rather than going to the store to buy more groceries for our lunch, she simply worked with what she had. And it was perfect.

The Invitation

You do not need to know

precisely what is happening,

or exactly where it is all going.

What you need is to recognize the possibilities

and the challenges offered by the present moment,

and to embrace them with

courage, faith, and hope.

Thomas Merton

There is, it seems, always an open invitation from life, even in the midst of bittersweet endings and uncharted beginnings. The invitation isn’t to somewhere else, but to be fully where we are, for it is from here that we must ground ourselves to take the next right step. And the next, and the next, and the next.

Endings of any sort mean the letting go of what has been and the leaving behind of what we’ve known, which, if we let it, will lead to the melding of gratitude and grief into the precious metal of grace. The deeper the gratitude and the more profound the grief, the longer we may need to linger at the threshold between what has been and what will be. These are the days of intentional packing, intentional goodbyes, and intentional moving on. There will be days when we can only pause and rest, and others when we must forge ahead regardless of how weary we feel.

Whether the selling of the longtime home in which we’ve raised a family, the retirement from a meaningful career, the fading of a vision that cannot be brought to life, the loss of a breast, or the ending of a relationship that cannot live up to the commitments made, the invitation is to stay fully engaged in life. Right here. Right now. Trusting that the ground beneath our feet will hold, as it has, as it is, and as it will.