WordSisters

Category: Inspirational

  • Hesitations

    Scratchy eyes, stuffed noses and sneezes mark the official leaf out of trees for many with allergies. In the upper Midwest climate change is warming our falls and appears to be cooling April and May. Typical years would have 12 April days with high temps of between 55 and 70 degrees. For two years we have had half of that. And trees need warmer temps on a steady schedule in April to grow leaves by May 1. Not only do we have slow moving weather, but Alberta wildfire smoke that blocks blue skies. 

    Ducks have been surveying our backyard, ignoring a small noisy dog, for the right place to lay their eggs. For two days they try the mulch under pine trees. Another day they sit in the middle of the lawn. Then they disappear.

    Our little granddaughter is able to race around the house holding onto one finger of an adult’s hand. For a few days she managed to travel the same track independently with a huge smile and laughs. After a few days of going solo, she returned to walking with someone. A week later she ran to greet us.

    Nature hesitates. The trees are quite healthy, the ducks will probably settle someplace under a neighbor’s deck, our granddaughter will travel on her own today or tomorrow. The world keeps spinning during these brief respites during transitions. Planets don’t collapse, rules of gravity remain intact, global population increases. 

    What I need to take away from nature is the difference between hesitation and procrastination. It’s okay to push back a haircut for a whole lot of reasons, but not so good to ignore a mammography or eye test. The choice between sloppy joes or pork chops for dinner can be delayed until right before I leave the grocery store. If I forget, there are scrambled eggs for dinner. 

    Hesitation has been given a bad rap. “He hesitated” implies a less than enthusiastic response to a question or opportunity. The elevator hesitated takes a story a whole different direction. She stepped on the gas and the car hesitated might mean a substantial repair bill. 

    Yet hesitations can be like a “could” instead of a “should” in a day if we lean into the luxury of rolling lesser decisions forward. In a life directed by dreaded to do lists, I hope I can leave paint swatches up on the wall another week to study how they look in the sun and light. A friend of mine did that for the entire holiday season including her husband’s staff party. Why not? 

  • Company of Strangers

    Bell ringers, crowded parking lots, a too-warm coat in a too-warm store waiting in line to pay, missing a gift box, losing a gift receipt. Bright lights and glittering messages of sales and making others happy. A barrage of noise and pressure camouflage what was once Christmas. Thanksgiving’s turkey barely forgotten and three weeks of hurry up to run.

    Away from the malls, eight school choir members dressed in the winter jacket and hat uniform of kids their age line Fish Creek’s historic Alexander Noble House’s porch while dozens of friends, family, strangers, holiday lovers gather on the walkways. Young boys kick apart snow chunks along sides of the gathering. Flashing Christmas lights hang around the necks of middle-age women. Babies watch from cocoons of blankets and scarves. Couples relax within each other’s arms or stand side-by-side exchanging private looks of contentment.

    Candle flames flicker in a playful breeze, burning holes in plastic cup that offer minimal wind protection. Most stay lit for the community Christmas caroling led by a choir director’s strong tenor. Everyone beyond the age of teenage angst sings. Confidence is found in the company of strangers on a mild December evening waiting for lighting of a tree maybe twelve feet tall. Choir members stand absolutely still, sway on booted feet, move from one foot to another as the crowd owns old songs, contemporary songs, religious songs. The night could go on longer as people unconsciously edge closer to each other.

    The temporary community chorale doesn’t need a soaring Rockefeller Center tree to proclaim Christmas. When the switch flips and hundreds of white lights sparkle, the moment becomes special. People clap. Some call out Merry Christmas. The tree festivities end without a pitch for funds or a speech by the someone with a title, just the exchanging of holiday wishes as blown out candles return to a box.

    Happy holidays to all of you. May you find times of comfort and peace in the coming weeks and all of 2020.

    IMG_5946

  • My Daughter, My Inspiration

    My Daughter, My Inspiration

    At 3 years old, Crystel couldn’t speak. She couldn’t say her name. The only one who understood her was her brother, Juan Jose’. He’d interpret for us.

    One time, Jody, Juan Jose’ and I were at a campground, and each mom had reached it by a different path. Each mom thought the other had Crystel. Juan Jose’ said it the best when we found Crystel eye to eye with a white double-bearded goat. “Cissy, I so scared my heart go out then come back in when I see you.”

    The goat chewing her cud, the little girl waiting for her family to find her.

    It was tasked with her daily homework. A folder filled with pictures. I pulled a photo out, she named it, and we would go through the stack. Except, I gave up. I didn’t understand a word she was saying. I couldn’t comprehend how she would get any better.

    It was her speech therapist that said, “Crystel’s the hardest worker I have. She always does her best. Are you doing her homework?”

    That evening we started again. With Crystel in my lap, I pointed to a picture of fire.

    “Ire,” Crystel said.

    I moved my finger to a firefighter.

    “Ireighter.”

    To a shark’s fin.

    “in.”

    Of course, Crystel did get better, and she graduated from speech therapy by the time she was eight years old. She no longer allowed Juan Jose’ to speak for her.

    She had a voice. She had determination. She had fortitude.

    I became a believer. Crystel would be able to do anything that she ever wanted to do because she would not quit. Even when her mom did.

    Crystel and Juan Jose’ are sophomores in high school. They start losing electronic privileges if their grades drop below a B-. Crystel is a straight A student. It doesn’t come easy for her. She studies nightly.

    She will not let me or anyone else determine her life. She will not allow herself to be mediocre.

    Her passions catch fire.

    On several occasions, she has created convincing PowerPoint presentations to persuade Jody and me. I had no plan to travel to Japan. Her presentation included facts, photos, and vibrated with excitement. We will now be traveling there for the summer 2020 Olympics. We have a map of Japan in our kitchen. We have a Japan vacation fund.

    On our latest trip to Guatemala, it was at her insistence that we kayaked to a waterfront house for sale in Guatemala on the shores of Lake Atitlan. Walking around the property, I realized that Guatemala had truly entered our hearts. Our every other year visits would no longer be just about visiting the birth families. Crystel was right. Anything was possible.

    She ran the Wood Lake half marathon this summer with a friend. 13.1 miles. 8.22 min a mile. She had not yet turned 16.

    Crystel has recently become a vegan. If it was anyone else, I might think that this is a phase she is going through. Because it is her, I understand that she has embraced the lifestyle. She prepares and cooks her own food. I find this impressive, but it doesn’t surprise me.

    Crystel meets storms head on. Her face to the wind. She is living. She has a hunger to be and to do.

    Her current life plan is to be a Futurist. A Futurist is a person who studies the future and makes predictions based on current trends.

    Based on current trends, she will be just fine.