Grace-full

You might say that I’m not graceful, or at least I haven’t been lately. The week before Christmas, I was carrying a full glass of water down the stairs at my house. I sort of missed one stair, stepping on just the edge of it in my slippered feet (now I know why they call them “slippers”). My feet went up, my beehind went down, and five stairs later I came to rest, flat out—except for the raised arm holding the glass of water. (Amazingly, not a drop of water spilled.) At first the pain started in the center of my back, but by the next morning, it was in my neck, radiating into a pounding headache. My chirocracker, whom I made a quick visit to that afternoon, suggested that next time I go ahead and spill the water and spare my body. He also said I sprained my neck. Not badly, mind you, but nevertheless I ask you how many people you know that have sprained their necks by carrying a glass of water downstairs? How glamorous is that? How graceful is that?

Today I had another opportunity to demonstrate my not-so-graceful form as Scott and I were taking advantage of the wonderful blessing of snow brought by the two recent Colorado blizzards. We had been snowshoeing on a trail on Mt. Blodgett, not far from our house. Obviously we weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the snow, as the trail was pretty hard-packed. On our descent, we decided to take a less-traveled path through steeper terrain and denser forest. In hindsight, I don’t think this path was really a trail, but more likely someone’s wanderings through the woods on their snowshoes. I know that (in hindsight) because real trails don’t have big rocks on them, or downed trees that you have to step over. So I didn’t see the stupid rock until it tripped me. I lurched forward headfirst, landing facedown with my head downhill and my feet uphill. As if that weren’t humiliation enough, my naked hands were still strapped into my poles, which were now crossed and flattened beneath me—and quite cold covered in the snow. I looked about as helpless as a turtle on its back. Thankfully, Scott didn’t laugh out loud, but simply helped to pick me up and set me upright once again. Oh, and thanks for asking, no I didn’t get hurt this time, except for what little pride I had up until that point.

For some reason, this all prompted me to look up “graceful” in my Merriam-Webster dictionary. Interestingly, it doesn’t have its own listing, but rather is an adjective form of the word “grace.” Since the suffix “-ful” translates to “full of,” the word “graceful” should translate to “full of grace.” So what is grace? The first definition listed is “unmerited help given to people by God.” Second is “freedom from sin given by divine grace” (hey, I thought you couldn’t use the same word in its own definition). Third is “a virtue coming from God.” Are you beginning to see a pattern here? That whole “ease of movement” idea that probably first pops into our heads doesn’t appear until the eleventh definition. It’s waaaay down the list in the grace thing. This gives me hope! I may actually be graceful after all, in spite of my clumsiness. After all, I am full of “unmerited help given to people by God” and I’m grateful for all my “freedom from sin given by divine grace” and I certainly have my share of “virtue coming from God.” So who cares about having “ease of movement” when you’ve got the top three definitions under your belt?

So the next time I do something stupid and feel like a total klutz, I’m going to remind myself that I’m really graceful. Thank God. Literally.

So, anyway, thanks for dropping by. And happy new year.

Whiteouts

Last Thursday it snowed…and snowed…and snowed some more. Winds howled, branches snapped, roads became impassable. Zero visibility—an all-out blizzard. Businesses, schools, government offices all closed. The city virtually shut down. It was impossible to get into, out of, or around Colorado Springs.

On Friday the sun came out. And by Saturday the temperature was in the 70’s. (Where else, but Colorado, can you build a snowman in your bare feet?) It was downright delightful. What a difference a day (or two) makes!

Isn’t life sometimes like that? You’ll have a rotten day and feel like you’re getting dumped on…and dumped on…and dumped on some more? Your ability to see beyond the day’s din is lost in the whiteout of your own troubles. You shut down…and isolate yourself. You feel so cold inside.

The next day you awake with a new outlook. Yesterday’s insurmountable troubles don’t seem quite so bad today. Give it another day, and the piles of problems have melted into little more than a bad memory.

Okay, so maybe it doesn’t always work that way. Maybe you live someplace where the first winter snowstorm doesn’t really disappear until the springtime warmth has finally settled in. Maybe your snow lingers, black and dirty, for months on end. If so, you have my sympathy. Honestly.

Thanks for dropping by. We’ll chat again soon. Until then I wish you peace…and sunshine.

p.s. If life brings you snowstorms...build a snowman!

Birthdays

I had a birthday last week. Let’s just say I’m halfway between forty and fifty now. Wow… now that I said that, even I think I’m old!

I love birthdays, but I realized this year that I no longer look forward to them like I used to. I remember Aprils in my youth thinking, “Oh! Only six more months till my birthday!” Then in later years, I matured to the declaration of all of October as My Birthday Month, and secretly expected everyone to treat me special all month as a result. I drove my husband Scott crazy with the claim that he had to do this-that-or-the-other because it was my birthday month. Scott is probably relieved that I’ve lost the birthday enthusiasm. It certainly takes the pressure off him!

I don’t know why I’ve lost the birthday fervor. Maybe because I realize that each birthday means I’m another year older (duh!)—something that is only cool during the first twenty years of life. I honestly don’t know where the years have gone. Strangely, I’ve gotten older, but my friends have stayed young. Some of my dearest friends right now are still twenty-somethings. I’m old enough to be their mother (though I’d prefer to think of it as old enough to be their cool aunt, as my nephew Daniel calls me—bless his precious heart).

Yes, this is the year I had to get bifocals. The year I had to make twice-weekly visits to the chiropractor because of my aching neck and back. The year I spent $106 on a special pillow to ease my aching neck (which didn’t work, by the way—but did contribute to an aching wallet!). The year I accepted the fact that my thumb is always going to hurt, despite surgery, cortisone, and drugs. The year that I realized that I am twenty years older, but absolutely no wiser, than my young friends. The year my two-year-old Kira declared me to be “squishy all over.”

But the day after my birthday I realized something else: I can make the coming year better than ever. I can choose to live life, rather than let it slip by unnoticed and underappreciated. I can do things that matter – to my family, to others, to God, and to myself. Don’t ask me today what all of those things are – but know that I have begun my list of THINGS I WANT TO DO. This blog is just a beginning.

It’s gonna be a great year.

Thanks for dropping by. We’ll chat again soon. Until then I wish you peace.

Welcome to my world

I’ve never been one to journal. I always had this fear that someone would find my journal and read all those private thoughts that I assumed were just between me, my pen, and my deckle-edged parchment paper. But for some weird reason I wanted to blog. Sometimes I don’t even make sense to myself. So here I am, journaling for the world to see. Then again, how many people are actually going to ever read this, anyway? Well, for one, YOU are.

Since you’re here, let me say welcome—welcome to The Quiet Garden. The Quiet Garden is my space of refuge. It’s a sanctuary of solitude where I can leave the craziness of life behind and lose myself in thought and reflection, if only for a little while. It’s a place where I can muse the important milestones in life, as well as mull over the mundane. You are welcome to join me and to share your own thoughts, too.

Thanks for dropping by. We’ll chat again soon. And until then, I wish you peace.