A Lesson in Little Things

I’ve never been good at puzzles.  I have neither the patience nor the desire to search.  I want it done too quickly.  My Aunt Bootsie always has a puzzle laid out on her dining room table …1,000 piece minimum as anything less is mere child’s play.  For years, I thought it was her mind therapy…a sure fire way to battle deterioration.  But now, I’m realizing its part of her character…she takes little things and turns them into something beautiful.  She overjoys to see things emerge, something new developing out of something small.  She’s identical with her garden.  She faithfully nestles the bulb beneath the cold Autumn soil and waits eagerly for it to emerge in Spring.  Once the ground is warm enough, she lovingly sprinkles the tiniest seeds and, with child-like excitement, shares with all visitors what beauty has developed.  She has encouraged me to stand still and investigate the most intricate seed pod, looking deep within to see hope, potential.  In the same way, with great discernment, she plots and arranges the puzzle pieces, following each curve, each color variation to find the perfect fit.  Once completed, the grand reveal proves how each piece was made to fit perfectly against the other, each color spilling onto the next cut.  My impatient mind wonders at her ability to be still while being busy. 

I want it all done now...all good and beautiful things presented in their full glory without all the waiting.  Feeling lately as if I’m looking at a million piece puzzle, in one solitary color, all with the same curves…business, home and personal life all spilling into one another.  What content to provide, making smart business decisions, making timely posts, taking appealing photos, tagging clothes, spending time in devotion, finding time to exercise, maintaining our home, prepping meals, did I let the dog out? Then more of the same… am I spending enough time with those most important, the guilt of not writing enough, building my craft, utilizing my gifts, guilt, guilt, overwhelm, peace, organize, pray, repeat. Where to start and when to stop.

Remembering yet again, that I come from fierce yet still and strong ladies, I channel my inner Bootsie and start small…be grateful, give thanks, be still.  Then do one thing.  Be grateful some more. Give more thanks.  Be still more. Do one more thing. A years worth of small things resulting in 365 things at years end. It may take longer, but in the end, like Bootsie, I’ll have the most beautiful culmination of little things. With hope, I’ll look down at my work and see all the curves nicely nestled against the next little thing completed.  

Challenge - Week Six

The highlight of my week was a long lunch spent with my Aunt Gail.  A most excellent story teller, an expert at the art of conversation, and close as sisters to my Mom, she had plenty of belly-laughing stories for me and I know there'll be more next time.  I realize quickly that it was Mom that updated me on Gail and her family...sad realization of loss like a paper cut to the heart.  She warms my soul.  I  hope she knows how much joy thru laughter and concern she gifts to me.  Many blessings to her, my sweet Aunt. 

Tuesday allowed me to participate in my current guilty pleasure of the most mild variety... standing
in as smoothie-maker / tea-brewer at my favorite local tea shop.  Always amazed at the variety of customers it drawls, I enjoy making conversations and spreading more joy.  I whip up their order, they smile, say thank you and are off to pursue the rest of their day hopefully a bit happier.  This week, however, I encountered a customer of a different sort... uber needy, self-aggrandizing, with some un-nameable underlying dark force.  Life certainly would be pretty grand if you only dealt with unicorns and rainbows every day, but I suppose one dark apple in the bunch is manageable.  I refused to allow her energy to permeate my happy space and moved on.  Not allowing drama to become my own.  Deep tea shop lessons...

Tea shop hours also provided time with the local homeless lady, Ms. A.  Can't even fathom the darkness she encounters on a daily basis.  Scattered and random joy with a solid base of self-preservation.  She shuffles in, her bag dripping some milky substance and desperately needing a bath.  Abandoning all judgment and side-barring all chores, I elbow up to the counter and greet her with a tentative smile...testing the waters and not wanting to bombard her with my syrupy happiness.  She's tired, in pain from an arthritic knee and needs something to cut the chill.  Warm tea seems to help.  I listen and nod...her stories rich, decorated with her own vocabulary.  I wonder if they hold truth or if they are her own imaginings, her own reality.  I wonder how she'd receive a care package of street goodies...she seems too proud to accept help.  I wonder what brought her to the York streets...aren't we all just a few decisions away from the same fate?  She reports that she always feels content when she visits...not happy or loved because that would be too "kinky"...a place to warm her bones, use a safe bathroom and receive a smile. 

And THEN....I got to baby-sit the most adorable little babe all day Wednesday!  She sat on my lap, so content, so trusting, completely reliant on me for the afternoon.  Of course, the mental queue started to scroll....could I switch loads of laundry, vacuum, prepare dinner, call my Dad...but instead, I savor her.   She drifts off...eyes so heavy, arms completely limp and the sound of rain hitting glass enters awareness.  Then I watch a robin and a cardinal search the frozen ground for food...normally too busy to witness these simple yet sweet things, I savor them.  She stirs as if dreaming..what does someone so new to this world possibly dream about?  We're both most content when my cheek rests on her forehead.  That sweet smell of baby...I savored it.