Gratitude. This morning I made a long gratitude list as I lay snuggled in my comfy bed with two cats, listening to partner's coffee making and the birds chirping. When life is comfortable we can make gratitude lists. When life is uncomfortable, we seldom can think past our discomfort to make such lists. However, when a friend called this morning with a migraine, I was deeply grateful that I don't have them any more. No matter how much pain I have with my restless leg syndrome or the fibromyalgia, I don't have migraines.
I rinsed out the sink with the sprayer and thought about how much water I was "wasting" when some people do not even have safe drinking water. Our water doesn't taste good but it's safe. I want to help others drill wells so that they don't have to use river water or search for springs that may have gone away.
The owner of the store at Merchants joked with me this morning - spring must be getting in his blood because he's been glum all this winter. And, I'm grateful. We joked about the upcoming bike rally here in May and looked enviously at the bike riders who were buying gas and water for the day. And, I was grateful for the smiles and the joy of those who were enjoying our beautiful day.
I walked to Merchants - just two houses away - something I could not have done six months ago. And, I was grateful, even though I only lasted six minutes on the treadmill this morning.
My grocery list is made, and I know I have enough money to buy everything we need and probably some extras. My goddaughter struggles each month to feed those in her household - buying in bulk, looking for mark-downs and out-of-dates, and going around to various churches seeking food. She has no car and getting over to the church where she can get "angel food" boxes is now impossible. Buses don't go there. and, I'm grateful for good food to eat.
However, several nights ago, my restless leg syndrome would not be quieted and I slept little - up and down - heat, stretching, more medicine - finally still enough to sleep, but exhausted, about 4 am. I'm not sure how thankful I was then. I had a warm house, warm clothes, computer games, two loving cats, and plenty of room to walk around. In retrospect, I'm grateful.
Perhaps next time I have troubles, I will be grateful for the blessings that I do have instead of focusing only on my problems...but I doubt it.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference - and the mindfulness to be grateful at all times.
Showing posts with label personal - gratitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal - gratitude. Show all posts
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Musing about the farm and its critters
This afternoon as I looked at the webcam of Zhen Zhen, the panda cub in San Diego, and pictures of Flocke, the polar bear cub in Germany, I was reminded of the dreams I had before arriving in New Bern. I dreamed that black bears were all over my yard and came into my house and just wandered around - not bothering anything. I was concerned in the dream but not very frightened. I tried to lock them out, but they just kept appearing. They didn't do anything except appear. The logo for New Bern (which means New Bear) is a black bear like Bern, Switzerland.
Then my cat made a plaintive cry and I remembered sitting on the bank of Coldwater River in Mississippi and watching several bobcat kits playing near a large pile of driftwood where their den was located. Mama Bobcat knew I was there, but I was very still and she didn't bother me. My smell was all over that area since I frequently spent large amounts of time there. Some of that time was on a bluff overlooking the river where I watched for the old gar to turn up - and I saw it a few times - huge and silvery on its belly. I often wondered that it didn't rob my Dad's trot lines.
We had pet cats, some outdoor, one indoor/outdoor, and a large pack of wild stray cats - some very large - began roaming our area. We tried to scare them off in various ways and make them leave the area. Some of our neighbors killed a couple of them as they attacked various farm animals. One of our outdoor cats disappeared. And, another showed signs of a great fight. Then, the cat food on the back porch began disappearing. We were poor and cat food was a luxury item. I worried about our cats. Night after night the dogs growled and the cats fought and the cat food disappeared. It was summertime and the windows were open. So was the back door with the screen closed to keep out the bugs. As we sat eating supper, I saw one of the wild cats come onto the porch and I shooed it off. This happened two more nights. The fourth night, I set my .22 rifle beside my chair at supper. When the wild cat appeared on the porch, I slowly lifted the rifle, aimed and fired through the screen. The cat flew off the porch and Mom would not let me go outside to see. The next morning, the cat was a few feet from the porch, dead.
I have never felt good about killing that cat, but I do understand why soldiers fight - to protect those they love. It's no cliche. And, no options existed in rural Mississippi for a pack of wild animals except death. The farmers and stockmen couldn't risk the threat to their livelihoods. And, youngsters like me didn't want to keep losing their pets. Cruel, yes, but I would do it again - and perhaps less cruel than a gas chamber in a shelter.
We were required to care for our animals, and, when the time came that their lives were over, we were expected to take care of that, too. Quickly, even with tears.
On the brighter side of farm life/country life, I've had the pleasure of petting raccoons, being almost bitten by an opossum, watching deer graze in our yard, seeing the bobcats at their den, being amazed at the size of that old gar in the river, digging for river mussels and finding ones with beautiful irridescent shells.
I've stripped bark from birch trees and written messages on it with sharp sticks. I've eaten fried catfish and hush puppies cooked in a dutch oven over a charcoal bucket at the river. I've walked from the river through the woods to our house at night, alone. I picked dewberries for the most delicious pie I've ever eaten. I've seen foxes slinking along the top of the levee. I've found rabbits under the shed out back, and I've dug in the corn crib for baby mice.
My brother, the hunter (ha, ha) killed a cardinal once. Mom told him that we only killed to provide food and to protect ourselves. So he cooked it over a fire in the back yard. Brave me tried to eat some of it - ugh. We were both sick.
I've been up close and personal with most kinds of snakes and never bitten. I've gathered moss and mushrooms and soft lichen and colorful leaves to take home as centerpieces for the table. I've leaned against a Jersey milk cow named Betsy and told her my troubles (just like Mom did every morning), I've fallen off a horse, I've stolen watermelons. I found my grandfather's and, subsequently, my uncle's still - fascinating mechanism. I lost a shoe in gumbo mud down in the new ground where I shouldn't have been. I've been chased by a bull and I've ridden a big sow whose name was Whitey. She didn't like me much after her babies were born.
I've shelled corn with a hand-turned corn sheller, which is probably in the garage. I've picked up pecans until I thought I was a permanent u-turn. And, I've snapped and shelled and canned every kind of bean and pea that will grow in Mississippi. I've eaten tiny ears of corn right off the stalk.
Ah, some very good memories. And, for these memories I am truly grateful. Amen.
Then my cat made a plaintive cry and I remembered sitting on the bank of Coldwater River in Mississippi and watching several bobcat kits playing near a large pile of driftwood where their den was located. Mama Bobcat knew I was there, but I was very still and she didn't bother me. My smell was all over that area since I frequently spent large amounts of time there. Some of that time was on a bluff overlooking the river where I watched for the old gar to turn up - and I saw it a few times - huge and silvery on its belly. I often wondered that it didn't rob my Dad's trot lines.
We had pet cats, some outdoor, one indoor/outdoor, and a large pack of wild stray cats - some very large - began roaming our area. We tried to scare them off in various ways and make them leave the area. Some of our neighbors killed a couple of them as they attacked various farm animals. One of our outdoor cats disappeared. And, another showed signs of a great fight. Then, the cat food on the back porch began disappearing. We were poor and cat food was a luxury item. I worried about our cats. Night after night the dogs growled and the cats fought and the cat food disappeared. It was summertime and the windows were open. So was the back door with the screen closed to keep out the bugs. As we sat eating supper, I saw one of the wild cats come onto the porch and I shooed it off. This happened two more nights. The fourth night, I set my .22 rifle beside my chair at supper. When the wild cat appeared on the porch, I slowly lifted the rifle, aimed and fired through the screen. The cat flew off the porch and Mom would not let me go outside to see. The next morning, the cat was a few feet from the porch, dead.
I have never felt good about killing that cat, but I do understand why soldiers fight - to protect those they love. It's no cliche. And, no options existed in rural Mississippi for a pack of wild animals except death. The farmers and stockmen couldn't risk the threat to their livelihoods. And, youngsters like me didn't want to keep losing their pets. Cruel, yes, but I would do it again - and perhaps less cruel than a gas chamber in a shelter.
We were required to care for our animals, and, when the time came that their lives were over, we were expected to take care of that, too. Quickly, even with tears.
On the brighter side of farm life/country life, I've had the pleasure of petting raccoons, being almost bitten by an opossum, watching deer graze in our yard, seeing the bobcats at their den, being amazed at the size of that old gar in the river, digging for river mussels and finding ones with beautiful irridescent shells.
I've stripped bark from birch trees and written messages on it with sharp sticks. I've eaten fried catfish and hush puppies cooked in a dutch oven over a charcoal bucket at the river. I've walked from the river through the woods to our house at night, alone. I picked dewberries for the most delicious pie I've ever eaten. I've seen foxes slinking along the top of the levee. I've found rabbits under the shed out back, and I've dug in the corn crib for baby mice.
My brother, the hunter (ha, ha) killed a cardinal once. Mom told him that we only killed to provide food and to protect ourselves. So he cooked it over a fire in the back yard. Brave me tried to eat some of it - ugh. We were both sick.
I've been up close and personal with most kinds of snakes and never bitten. I've gathered moss and mushrooms and soft lichen and colorful leaves to take home as centerpieces for the table. I've leaned against a Jersey milk cow named Betsy and told her my troubles (just like Mom did every morning), I've fallen off a horse, I've stolen watermelons. I found my grandfather's and, subsequently, my uncle's still - fascinating mechanism. I lost a shoe in gumbo mud down in the new ground where I shouldn't have been. I've been chased by a bull and I've ridden a big sow whose name was Whitey. She didn't like me much after her babies were born.
I've shelled corn with a hand-turned corn sheller, which is probably in the garage. I've picked up pecans until I thought I was a permanent u-turn. And, I've snapped and shelled and canned every kind of bean and pea that will grow in Mississippi. I've eaten tiny ears of corn right off the stalk.
Ah, some very good memories. And, for these memories I am truly grateful. Amen.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
My "off" day
"Off" - well, I've always been off a little bit - sometimes more than others. But, today is a day without any plans. I am off from work, off from obligations, off from appointments, off from most responsibilities.
However, since the laundry is now stacked over my head, not only clothes, but mattress covers, towels, blankets, sheets, and lots of clothes, I think I'll do some laundry. I'll sort it in the guest room so that I don't have to finish it today. I think tomorrow is an "off" day as well. LOL
Grandchildren are undoubtedly a blessing, but I'm grateful today that I don't have any - no children either, just Godchildren, and they all seem to be busy with their own lives lately. I would be thinking up things for the grandchildren and I to do together if I had any. And, I don't want to think. I don't want to be busy and out and about. I just want to be home.
What a blessing it is to have a home. I've been concerned lately about our homeless folk. I saw two police cars stopped on the by-pass (now a limited access road through our town) with two people and a shopping cart. The cart was almost empty; the people were shivering. I was on the other side of the median and when I turned around they were all gone, including the shopping cart. Perhaps these two people were homeless and sheltering in the small patch of woods alongside the by-pass. Perhaps the police had merely cautioned them about fires after checking their IDs (and I hope they had them). I would like to think that the police offered them a ride to the nearest shelter and the protection from the cold that offered. I pray that they find a way "home".
However, since the laundry is now stacked over my head, not only clothes, but mattress covers, towels, blankets, sheets, and lots of clothes, I think I'll do some laundry. I'll sort it in the guest room so that I don't have to finish it today. I think tomorrow is an "off" day as well. LOL
Grandchildren are undoubtedly a blessing, but I'm grateful today that I don't have any - no children either, just Godchildren, and they all seem to be busy with their own lives lately. I would be thinking up things for the grandchildren and I to do together if I had any. And, I don't want to think. I don't want to be busy and out and about. I just want to be home.
What a blessing it is to have a home. I've been concerned lately about our homeless folk. I saw two police cars stopped on the by-pass (now a limited access road through our town) with two people and a shopping cart. The cart was almost empty; the people were shivering. I was on the other side of the median and when I turned around they were all gone, including the shopping cart. Perhaps these two people were homeless and sheltering in the small patch of woods alongside the by-pass. Perhaps the police had merely cautioned them about fires after checking their IDs (and I hope they had them). I would like to think that the police offered them a ride to the nearest shelter and the protection from the cold that offered. I pray that they find a way "home".
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