Choosing Joy

Sleepy eyes this morning, wanting a few more minutes, scanning the body to check the level of plant-pulling soreness, confirming tight hips.  Mentally adding yoga to the morning to-do. Feet hit the carpet, I cut in line for the bathroom, feeling successfully sneaky.  Dog fed, door opened for his own morning bathroom break. Fruit and veggies chopped and juiced for some morning hubby health.  Made with love to supercharge his cells, sending extra doses of love to heal what ails. Kisses, then back upstairs for some morning yoga and reading. 

Checking emotions, finding myself tapped out, empty, not the typical overflow of joy.  How to fix that… what to add or take away? Finding stillness and listening, head cocked awaiting insight. Write.  Ok…I get it, deep thoughts, deeper meanings flow with the tapping, so I make the tea, I grab my spot and begin to tap. 

The endless flurry of to-dos sit poised at my right, my fingers make the words that echo deep within instead. Easier to attack the list, but I crave the harder mental work, the busyness can wait. That joy I crave cannot be bought or busily accomplished…it’s perched just out of reach, awaiting the stillness.  Waiting for me to cease the strive, waiting for me to ditch the worry, waiting for me to trust. It’s the sweetest thing. And there it sits, inching closer, happy anticipation of it’s arrival. Plopping the worry in a basket by the door, I sit some more. Joy so close I can taste it…the most decadent chocolate can not compare. 

Joy, she spills, overflows, seeps out in every direction, touching tasks, setting gaze, moving hands, pepping steps. Joy, she lifts above the mundane, above current worry, above long cast vision.  Joy so rich, so abundant, she holds nothing back, ready to spill. It’s the fix I need… the infusion of joy that shifts my perspective. 

Then, the steady tapping brings awareness… has Joy been there all along, my busy worry crowding her shine? A wealth of joy right under the surface…diamonds and pearls ready to adorn, yet reaching for plastic instead.  Joy is a choice.  Not the fickle addition to a lucky day.  Requiring the stillness, a dose of gratitude and a deep, saturating dive…so that every thought, every sight, every word is infused with honest to goodness Joy. Nothing else compares…no other replacement satisfies. Another body check, the hips are loose, emotions are lighter, the pep has returned, Joy resumed. Today, I choose Joy.

Right Before My Eyes

Expecting sunny Florida skies and beach moments tucked in between daughter’s classes, instead, we had rain and lost luggage. Daughter’s birthday celebration already off to a late and frustrating start.  But I’m here, right next to her, able to give in-person hugs and share dips of piled-high guacamole.  

Two months since Christmas break feels nearly an eternity.  Facetime chats while making dinner, her snuggled into bed between classes and Netflix, never quite the same.  Seeing her face, meeting her friends, feeling the flow of her new life, is altogether different.  She shares her new haunts, a nearby ice-cream shop and a warehouse market with a huge variety of eats.  She tells stories of previous visits with new friends. 

Recalling freshman days when parent visits felt part relief, part awkward,  I don’t push, I don’t assume all her precious time.  I hug and update, laugh and listen then I let her go, yet again.  This is her time.  Time to sift and sort and build up her list of likes.  Time to build grand memories that will bring smiles even into later days.  Time for mom to let out more line…letting her drift even farther, the building of wings, the becoming of an adult right before my eyes.

Stop the Scroll

All the pretty pictures scrolling and scrolling, keeping me from doing the good stuff.  The stuff that grows businesses, makes changes, and satisfies the soul.  Content just to nestle into this comfy couch while Charlie basks in the warm sun. Phone in hand, right finger swiping bottom to top, bottom to top, then back again… more pretty things.  Excuses of  investigation, what is new, what is desired.  3-2-1,  shock the body, up I rise. Walking, eyes refocused, blinking to see reality.  Here I am, ready to do the work.  Settled down, fingers tapping, letters into words into sentences: 

Pressing out of the comfy bubble, I ventured far and wide to explore new ideas, find a few new faces.  Pushing the church doors open, no familiar faces, finding an empty spot, a smile and I settle.  A class to groom leaders, primed to receive all the good stuff, I absorb the video and think all the deep thoughts. We answer the questions, some differing opinions, yet a fresh perspective. It’s all in efforts to mold and redefine, breaking off old ways and building anew.  It’s good.  Good thoughts not previously considered and real live people to learn from and relate to.  No photoshop, no filters, just seasoned women in all walks of life, sharing their stories. No little heart to double click, no hashtags, no need for clever comments.

Instead, rising up something that’s been waiting, poised, absorbing, sorting.  Little seeds now bursting forth for it is time. It is time. Ready to grow, the seeking and sitting is behind me, now is the time to move the feet, tap the fingers into words, and stop the scroll. 

Fear

Fear comes uninvited in the most happiest of moments. Small thoughts at first, quickly multiplied.  Sinking in, pulling tightly on heart and breath, now shallow, air only barely seeping in.  It crushes, it tightens, it grips, it halts. Fear brings the anxious tingles to middle back and stands heavily upon upper chest, solidly pinned.  It peels the smile from my face and spirit. It drags me back down to earth hidden, still and small.  Fear, you are no stranger to me.

I know your wily ways, your never ending effort to reduce and shame.  I know your symptoms, the small signs you are sneaking in, one evil inch at a time. The whys are silly and small: failure, fraudulence, indecision,  even fear of death is diluted. I’ve looked you in the eye and you are weak.  You are nothing. You are powerless.  Only when I accept the lies can you thrive.  You have no place here.  There is no room for you in my heart or home. You are unwelcome, unwanted, unnecessary.  I am on the right path.  I am protected, guided, redeemed. So I call an end to fear.  No white flag as there’s no surrender.  I WIN. I know exactly who I am, I am a beloved daughter of the Most High King.  You have no authority over me.  I WIN because of who lives in me.  I see you squirming away, tail between your legs, the weight on my chest lifted, the tingling gone.  All is lighter, easier, filled with light. My foot tapping, my eyes clear, breath deep and smooth.  Full and easy inhale, smooth and cleansing exhale.  Moving more boldly, head and thoughts higher.

You’ll return again, no doubt.  I’m ready for ya. 

Another Good Day

I just want you to write, that still small voice whispers.  Write what?  Shouldn’t I tidy up the blogsite?  Polish it for good words? Fingers on keyboard, words begin to flow, mind distracts… setting thoughts aside gently for later so that the softer, quieter words can rise.  Finally still enough to hear the words, they come one by one.  Singular at first, then quicker, primed and ready to flow. Words unhindered race to the top, giddy to reach paper, excited to spill.  No idea what will appear, but sitting ready, open, obedient:

The house sits still… only the gentle tapping of dog paws and key strokes.  Nothing left to do, all morning distractions are completed, here I sit enjoying the first warm breeze of winter. An unusually warm day has landed and my heart is grateful. The dogs wander safely in and out the open deck door, no fear of bees to enter.  Antsy, hard to sit still, I should be more productive, there are other drawers to sort, surely there’s something to dust.  Numbing, deadening, all to distract from hearing that still small voice. So I sit, obedient, slowly tapping the keys, curious what will rise. Should I write of yesterday’s blessings? That’s old stuff…tell me something new. What goodness delighted me in this day?  

A surprise clear sky on a winter day, taking the foster dog for a long walk, seeing her heart fill with trust again, a creamy avocado sandwich with spicy salt sprinkle, tiny flowers bursting their popcorn-like shell to share a new bud, fresh air in the bedroom, floors clean for a split-second, a stark blue jay against grey trunks, a skinny legged heron taking flight, sharing toys with a two-year-old, a confident knowing that every little thing will be alright. 

It’s another good day. 

New Arrival

She’s quiet this moment, new sounds heightened, sensitive to every thump and creak. She has crazy, fear filled eyes and a nice chunk of poo matted into her thick yellow fur.  Ears down, body flat, she pulls frantically against the leash in my attempts to bathe her, so I surrender and redirect her to the safety of the cage. 

Both of us now separated and settled, reviewing  foster docs… pills administered, safely separated from my own house dog, belly filled, bathroom visits complete.  All the boxes are checked.  So she sits, ears at the ready, waiting for me to round the corner. Making some tea, washing the dishes to distract my busy thoughts,  she test barks, to see if I’ll appear.  A whine, a howl.  We’re both making our normal sounds, creating a sense of routine, yet inside I’m reeling with lack of control. 

What have I gotten myself into?  She needs a bath, so I can check the next box by applying the flea & tick treatment…what if she has fleas?  Will my entire house have fleas? Will my house dog need treatment, too? I need to clean that matted fur, make her all pretty and shiny again.   Will she loose her little mind if I pick her up and plunge her into the bathtub? Will I be yet another line of humans that betray her? 

All new parent thoughts…worries, overthinking, unsure.  Safer here than there, I must resign to rest content that the bath can wait, for now.  Release the worry and know that she is ok.  All her basic needs fulfilled, my job is to reflect safety and refueling her love, preparing her for that forever home. 

So I sit, write, maybe still worry, but content that she is satisfied and will eventually trust and love another human. 

Battle of Gratitude

In the presence of a dear friend, wave after wave of good news, hard fought goals now realized, freedom and celebration just within reach, the inner option to spiral into despair was only a breath away. Smelling its bitter breath and biting words: you’ll never succeed, her life is so much better, she’s so much more organized and driven, you aren’t working as hard… the battle required a quick pivot from desperation to inspiration. Choosing instead to soak in the positive truths, I sought gratitude: Grateful that hard work produced sweet rewards, grateful for children finding their way, grateful to have such a big-hearted, creative and inspiring friend, grateful for stolen moments to sip tea together. 

The easy option to remain in neutral allowing the dark untruths to take root, shifting to gratitude takes work. It seems whatever you focus on builds upon itself, good or bad, I prefer good. But good isn’t easy.  Good takes work. Some days, the only gratitude I can muster is the toothpaste on my brush… but it builds. Slowly at first, but then… gratitude for the minty taste, clean teeth, a fresh morning kiss, a husband that loves me, a new day, fresh possibilities, food in the pantry, a warm breakfast tea, the perfect mug, a flitting cardinal against grey trees, the sound of the washer, clean clothes, new adventures, a dog that takes quick cold-day pees, warm house, electric, a functional heater,  working from home, flexibility, avocado toast, a second cup of tea with a friend. Building and building until there’s no room for self-doubt, fear, and despair.

Despair now departed, listening with a grateful heart, newly inspired by my rewarded friend. 

Quietly sipping and smiling, today’s battle of gratitude silently won.