Another person quoted this week the bumper sticker, “If I had known grandkids were so great, I would have had them first.”  I used to disagree with that statement, and now that I have five wonderful grandchildren and another on the way, I still disagree.  Don’t get me wrong, I love them to pieces, but I have yet to find a role as rewarding, enjoyable and meaningful as being a dad.

At a presentation this week for the American Business Women’s Association San Jacinto chapter, we finished a bit early so I had the opportunity to read the last chapter of my book Daddin’:  The Verb of Being a Dad.  The last chapter is titled “Livin’” and it is primarily a love letter written to my first grandchild.  She had not yet been born at the time I sent the book to the publisher in 2010, but the first copy arrived 48 hours before her birth.  Her dad, my oldest son, received the book in the waiting room at the hospital.  Reading the chapter for the umpteenth time still had me choking up.

In the letter, I introduced her to her dad and uncles and described the type of men they are as evidenced in the various stories in the book. The letter also reminds her to be the woman she wants to be, but first enjoy being a child, and I reminded her that her dad and uncles will love and support her, as will I.  And I choked.  Decades flashed before my eyes, both into the future and returning to the past … the knot swelled in my throat.  My audience comprised mostly of early Boomer era attendees understood.

My dad died 35 years ago; I won’t be here that many more years forward from now.  And that’s okay.  It’s called livin’.

The book is about moments.  The moments of now.  Enjoy them, relish them, try to remember some of them. They are all good, even if they are not all pleasant.  Such is life and livin’.

Father’s Day 2017, and every day:  enjoy the moments with kids, grandkids … everyone.  It is part of livin’.

(Dedicated to my dad, my sons and their children, my beloved grandkids. … making memories day after day and relishing memories of the past.)

(This edition was first published for Easter 2005 and appears on page 70 of Listen to Life:  Wisdom in Life’s Stories)

Those of the Christian faith celebrate the cornerstone event of our beliefs this Sunday—Christ’s resurrection.  Beautiful ceremonies, impassioned preaching, and children in new clothes abound, as do candies and lilies.  I can envision the women leaving the tomb crying “He has risen,” though there weren’t candies, clothes and cottontails to help with the announcement.  Listen closely to the message and to what the Arisen proclaimed in his life.  All of that begs the question to each of us—who has risen?

Our profession of faith clearly states that we believe that Christ rose on the third day.  I see this as important to our faith, but insufficient unto itself for living our faith.  We often hear during the Christmas season, “Why can’t we live with this spirit all year?”  The same is true for Easter:  “Why can’t we joyfully celebrate the resurrection of life and spirit all year?”  Do we work proactively, sensitively, passionately to resurrect—to raise the lives and spirits—of those near us, friends, family and strangers?  Our words of encouragement and healing, our patient listening, our gentle touches of assurance, our expressions of love and actions of loving, our celebrations of others simply for who they are:  all are acts of resurrecting others from their deaths of despair, fear, uncertainty, illness, fatigue, loneliness, confusion and pain.  About 2000 years ago, we were reminded of the power of life after death; I can’t help but think there was a lesson for us to heal “deaths” during our lives as well.

We are too often quick to crucify others in large and small ways, hammering nails into their egos, hearts and emotions and often without even knowing it; we are too often quick to deny our relationship and simple love for others when they are persecuted for who they are, what they look like or their beliefs; and, we are too quick to fall asleep when others anguish.  We were called to live out the lessons that we heard in Christ’s life, and to have hope for our lives after death.  Did we hear the lesson of our capacity to resurrect others, too, in our own humble way, less miraculous than was done for Lazarus, but within our power and our responsibility?

Joyful is this Sunday, this day of resurrection.  Joy full be our arising…every day.

Sitting on the bench on the patio deck, I looked down to my smartphone screen and saw truth.

The week had been bumpy.  A semifinalist for three different jobs conducting national searches, and I was told by all three within 48 hours of each other that I would not be advancing to the finalist stage.  Time spent in manual labor in the back yard seemed like a good prescription for the day.  It was on a break from bundling up branches that truth appeared on my phone.

I sat on the bench to catch my breath and release my thoughts.  I pulled out my phone, glanced at the screen – a habit I should kick.  Something caught my eye, so I changed my focus from the wording I was reading to the reflection on the screen.  There was a powerful oak bough arching across the screen’s width, with silhouetted leaves creating a pattern that looked like tiny chocolate chip morsels scattered on a blue field.  In some ways, it reminded of Oriental art.  It wasn’t a reflection; it was truth.  Truth is, no matter what is going on in life, there is beauty.

I smiled, put away the phone (which I should do more often), and leaned back to look at the arching limbs, flying birds and variations of leaves at this pre-Spring time; I listened to the leaves moved by the wind, the kids a few yards over and the engine of the power washer working next door.  Life goes on; soak it in.

In the pause to soak in the moment, I noticed a few places in the yard that needed my attention, but a bit more work is sure better than time with the phone, and keeps one’s head straight about the ups and downs of life.

The occasional watching of the American Pickers has revealed a treasure in their clutter.  It is not what they see or buy, or the knowledge about the items that they share.  It is not their banter.  It is more valuable than anything they ever purchased or bid on.  It is something they occasionally hear.

“They ran out of time…”    As the picker duo goes through barns and garages, stores and warehouses, they sometimes hear from a surviving child, spouse, friend or partner (and sometimes from the sellers themselves) that “they ran out of time …” to complete the renovation on the old car, build the tribute to vending machines, create a museum for children’s toys, or whatever other dream was behind the owner’s accumulation habits.  They had a dream, they collected and repaired, and … they ran out of time.

We all will run out of time, and hopefully, we will have unfinished grand projects and dreams.  If they ran out of time, it means they lived fully and abundantly.  They lived with hopes, dreams, goals and optimism.  And that is a beautiful thing.

I recall an attendee at one of my Memories to Memoirs ™ workshops who said that he had no new things left to do in life.  He had “done it all.”  Not hardly.  But he, at least in that moment, felt like he had nothing new left to do.  I challenged him a bit, but wasn’t going to grill him in front of an audience.  I believe the things that other attendees shared opened his eyes, but for a moment, maybe a fleeting moment, he felt there were no others “firsts” to accomplish in life. 

Remember the old joke punch line when the old man says to the young clerk, “Honey, I won’t even buy green bananas!”  We never know how much time is left, but being amidst a grand dream, or big project, or meaningful plans keeps us looking forward with hope and optimism.  We may choose to trade in one plan or dream for another, downsized one as energy and resources dwindle, but there is always something to put our wisdom, insights, love and creative energies into. 

It is sad when we run out of time.  It is more sad if we run out of the desire to live the time fully with dreams, plans, hopes and love.

The sophomore at High School for Performing and Visual Arts’ Creative Writing class shared her observation, “I found that the things that interest me inspire me in not just my writing, but in this photography and other ways, too.”  She seemed surprised, but also quite proud of the insights.  Her point is not to be missed.

I thoroughly enjoyed teaching a four-session sequence on how words and images inspire and inform each other.  The last session of them presenting their new works provided views of their imagination, talent and new skills.  It also provided some important reminders about responding to inspiration.

In the first session of the sequence, I provided students with some basics on photographic technique and seeing the world photographically.  Subsequent sessions capitalized on the photographic skills to enhance their writing.  It was all based on a course I developed called Words and Images for Houston Center for Photography, but there the students are photographers and older.  Working with the high school students was more than a treat; it was rejuvenating.

What interests you?  Let it inspire more than just one or two forms of expression.  If you’re interested in gardening, why not trying photography, writing (blogs, instructional, poetry, etc.), drawing, cooking or even music compositions influenced and inspired by your love of gardening?  The examples are endless, but perhaps the first step is to pause and reflect on the things that inspire you.  Then consider the forms of creative expression you enjoy.  Mix and marinate … voila! Inspiration!!

I have always been intrigued by my Southern heritage.  It has inspired me to take classes, as well as my own self-education through research and reading.  It influences my cooking, and finally influenced a book of poetry, musings and photography.   What things interest you?

The young woman’s smile and exuberance when she shared her observation reminded me how important it is to remain open to inspiration, AND to act on it.  It prompted me to consider the things that interest me as sources of inspiration.  I respond to many of them as part of how I live, but realized there are many things of interest that I don’t tap into for inspiration.  Her smile broke down the wall between interesting and inspiring.

Consider the things that interest you.  Follow the sophomore’s revelation.  Be inspired! Create!!

Out of curiosity about comedian/film maker/voice over star Albert Brooks, I found a truth about happiness.

Brooks, whose father died of a heart attack while performing at a roast of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, has been called the “West Coast Woody Allen.”  He is also the voice of the hawk character in the animated movie, The Secret Life of Pets, and others.  His unique style prompted me to look more into his background, and in the search I found a gut-wrenching dose of wisdom.

He has stated that his greatest fear is that three days before he dies he’ll find out what happiness means.

“The pursuit of happiness” is more than a line in the Declaration of Independence.  It is there because all people seek it.  I believe you can look no further into the future than the moment you are in when pursuing happiness. 

It is hard to pursue something you don’t understand the meaning of. How do you know when you’ve gotten it?  Perhaps that is why Brooks refers to the meaning of happiness instead of the condition of happiness.  I believe the meaning of happiness is in the moment, too; the meaning is never in the past nor in the future … it is this moment only.

I was talking to a friend the other day who shared the story of her friend who was in a “woe is me” rut when he visited a potential client – M. D. Anderson Cancer Center.  She described his enlightenment as he walked behind children suffering with cancer, yet they conveyed courage, optimism and joy in their smiles and attitudes. 

Happiness is a perspective that has meaning unto itself, as we spend our lives in pursuit of it.  It is never in front of you or behind you; it is with you in every moment.

The good news is that Jack and Sue are back together; the bad news is that Sue’s passing is what made it possible.

Sue passed the other day, after a surprise battle with cancer.  It was a surprise because she was the caregiver, champion and wife of Jack, a life warrior who had battled cancer for seven years.  Her battle was much shorter.   He died a few months ago and inspired this tribute.  Her diagnosis came as a surprise to all.  How she handled it all came as a surprise to no one who knew her well; she did so with grace, courage, optimism, faith and love. 

I had the pleasure of profiling her for this book; she is on page 31. I had known Sue for several years through my role at her alma mater.  She was the first alumna to reach out to me when I started there in 2001.  Getting to know Sue, and know about her, was among the perks of my years there.  The inscription on the wall of her quilting room seemed the perfect backdrop to her creativity and strength for the image.  I re-read the profile after I heard that Sue had completed her battle with cancer.

For Sue, all that she did, all whom she served and all that she faced was part of the “grand and glorious adventure” of life. All who were part of that with her in any way, shape or form were blessed.

We’ll miss you, Sue.  We’ll try to remember all that you taught us. Amidst the sadness, we will remember that the good news is that you and Jack are back together. 

I wish for you the absolute best for 2017, and that means you being the best, strongest, most courageous person you can be.  It means you being the most complete, God-blessed, empowered human being you can be … in each moment.  Some moments will be better than others, and for 2017, strive for strong moments, not perfections. It does not mean that I wish you a year of rainbows, unicorns and Utopia. You would atrophy and be a shadow of what you can be.

We grow with challenges.  Some of the most beautiful writings about making the most of life do not celebrate the ease of life, but the strength, character and courage to face life head on.  It is through challenge that we become the best we can be … and I wish that for you.  The best. You would never sharpen a knife on a marshmallow:  iron sharpens iron.

For you, for 2017 (and always), my sincere wish for you is in the lessons and wisdom of Invictus, Desiderata and If to get you through the to-be-expected highs and lows of the year with an eye on a lifetime.

Love to all.

The blank screen begged for clichés, formula messages or anything to add letters to the glowing whiteness.  My fingers resisted because my heart is not in the mood for clichés. 

The chance to breathe is reason enough to be thankful, and our capacity and call to love empowers us to give.  Forget turkey and football; think about the gift of the moments. Be happy for the chance to give thanks.

I think of the subscribers to this newsletter and/or those who follow the blog version.  Among them are people I care deeply about who are fighting cancer with every cell of their spirit; new babies are about to be born; jobs have been lost and new jobs are being assumed; great successes and catastrophic changes of circumstances have come or are coming…and with it all there is thanks and there is giving.  There are moments … moments to be remembered and moments yet to come. For you all, I give thanks.  For the chance to meet others, I give thanks.  And I hope that giving you this occasional newsletter is a sign of my thanks for you.

We all have the chance to find a variety of ways to say thank you – to ourselves, to our Higher Power, to those near us, and even to strangers.  We are happy when we give thanks because it reminds us of the importance, the beauty and the potential to have the moment we’re in, and to share that moment.

I wish you all a happy day of giving thanks.  There is so much to be thankful for.

Chris showed us that there is no trick to the treats.

This past Monday morning – Halloween day – several of us were chatting after my Monday morning sessions for nonprofit fundraisers and executives.  The friendly conversations moved to the topic of Halloween and how it has changed over the years.  Everyone in the group remembered the days of large packs of friends moving from house to house in mostly homemade costumes, getting candy from adults who had as much fun handing out candy and guiding apple bobbing, if not more, than the kids participating in the night’s activities.  The question arose, “Are you handing out candy this year?”

“Absolutely,” Chris said.  “And do you want to see my pumpkin carvings?” he asked with a proud grin.  The two images shared from his phone revealed an afternoon’s work.  The carvings of a cat silhouette and a skull were excellent and harkened back to years ago.  He admitted to roasting the seeds, too!  He explained that he always carves pumpkins, always gets more candy than necessary, and always prepares for kids to come-a-calling.

“You do this for your grandkids?” one person asked.  It was a logical question.  Why else go to all the trouble, especially considering how few trick-or-treaters most of us in our area get (I had 11 this year).

“Nope,” he replied, his proud smile still in place.  “I just like doing it.  Always have.  I do it every year.”

What a treat!

True joy comes from doing things that we enjoy, and doing them for that reason.  There is no trick to motivation…just the treat of enjoyment.  There is no trick to feeling young…just the treat of joy.

Chris thought he was showing us photos of carved pumpkins.  He was reminding us to never let go of the joys that have been put in our treat bags over the courses of our lifetimes.