Happy #103: Be in it well.

I stood outside my home last night and looked up at the stars. Salt Lake City is well lit, so there aren't many readily observable bits of glitter in the midnight velvet. The downside to the upside of urban bliss...

I thought back on memories we've made as a family in the mountaintops of other places when the stars were so thick and luminous it seemed like we were standing in the Milky Way. And I thought about the millions of galaxies out there we don’t know about, and what they may contain. We have such limited knowledge. And we know so little. About anything.

My thoughts about my smallness and seeming insignificance brought this statement by Ghandi to mind, “Whatever you do will be insignificant, but is very important that you do it.”

I’m not sure I agree. (With the "will be insignificant" part.)

That said, I believe that however small and insignificant my life may be, my actions have an impact. The only good I may be able to do may be in the lives of my children and for those within my sphere, but that is significant.

Here’s why.

I have been paying particular attention recently to the importance of doing things well—whatever those things may be, in whatever moment. Work, laundry, weeding, planting flowers, preparing food, leisure, relaxation, being in a conversation…

Tonight I'm in Washington and earlier this evening I was sitting at a local sushi bar having dinner with a friend. Thanking us for coming in, our waiter (mid to late twenties would be my guess) reached across the bar to set my water down. I looked at his hand, holding my glass, then I glanced up to say thank you. In the split second it took to look from the glass in his hands to his eyes, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the inside of his forearm.

As we engaged in conversation during his service to us, I mentioned I had seen his tattoo and was intrigued by it. Surprising myself with what I said next, I asked if he would be willing show it to me.

I’ve had several men offer to show me their tattoos. Yeah. But I’ve never, not one time, ever asked to see someone’s tattoo.

He came out from behind the bar and over to our stools. Rolling up his sleeve, he stretched out his arm to show me the beautiful script that had caught my eye. He explained it was the poem he had written a few years ago when his mother died. Wanting to honor her and his memory of her, he put the poem and her name, Grace, on his arm.

He read aloud,

“In this life the lessons in your eyes to see,
Though things change, the future is still inside of me,
We must remember that tomorrow comes after the dark,
So you will always be in my heart
With unconditional love.”

Grace said and did things that were meaningful for her son. This is significant. His love for her, and his actions that demonstrated that love, provided an experience that was meaningful for me. And this is significant. Grace is not here on this planet anymore, but both her son and I are inspired by her life. And that is significant.

Doing things well requires the choice to do things well. Then paying attention and giving focus to what is in the moment.

It’s all we’ve really got anyway, the moment.

Be in it while it’s going by.

Be in it well.

Happy #102: Recognize your influence.

It's Father's Day.

My father died tragically when I was 15. He called me Pinky (& Pink) from the day I was born until the day he died, and to this day pink is my favorite color. (The roses I just planted in my yard, above.)

I don't have many memories of my Dad. He wasn't around very much. (And his unavailability created issues I'm still working through...) But in the few years of my life he was here, he gave me a priceless gift.

Confidence.

My father believed in me. He loved and adored me, and he told me so all the time. He told me I was brilliant and beautiful and that I could do anything I put my mind to.

And I grew up believing him.

There wasn't so much praise around after my father died. Fortunately for me, the confidence he fostered had set before he was gone.

A week or so ago a friend of mine said something praiseworthy to me and it affected me deeply. We talked a bit about why people don't say more positive things to each other more often. He remarked, " Why is it more acceptable, or at least more common, to offer gentle criticisms and/or corrections, while gentle affirmations and loving words are less common? Surely the motive is the same. And interestingly, frequently the result is the same, too. I think we should say heartfelt things to each other more often. Who else do we have? How else would we know?"

I've tried to convey a number of times and in a number of ways (in this blog), the importance of saying good things to each other. But today, on Father's Day, I want to draw particular attention to the importance of a father's praise in the lives of his children.

My father, limited as his time was on earth, had a lasting, positive, and profound influence on my life. I honor him today. I honor all the fathers out there who encourage and uplift their children.

Happy #103 is Recognize your influence. Because everyone around you is in need of hearing more good. And you are the most important part of that equation.

I miss you, Dad.

Happy #101: Bounce back.

Bounce back.

You (and everyone you know) will suffer adversity. Given.

Yesterday, the day after the disappointment I wrote about, I called a dear and lifelong friend to check-in. A few minutes into the conversation, my friend shared she was feeling concerned about a visit she would be making that evening.

The morning or two before, a friend of my friend (names omitted for obvious reasons), had gone into the bedroom of her 19 year old son to wake him up. Her son had passed away in his sleep.

No warning. No indication there were problems with his health. He was alive the night before and gone the next morning.

It put things into perspective for me immediately.

So I said to myself, "Kathleen, get over yourself and bounce back." I say that a lot... It's largely the reason I've mastered the ability to take life as it comes and persevere. Happy. Regardless.

Perspective is everything. I don't know that it's possible to thrive in the face of adversity, setbacks, and loss. But I know it's possible to change how we feel by changing our outlook.

I'm praying for the peace of my friend, her friend, and her friend's family. And I'm thanking God for my blessings--my four precious ALIVE children at the top of that list.

Bounce back. And press on.

We all have a lot.

Just a reminder. :-)

Happy #100: Hope for more, but be grateful for and take loving care of what you have.

By now you've all figured out I write as a way to work myself out of a place that is less than "happy". So bear with me, this post won't end up the downer it's going to start out as. ;-)

I received some exceptionally disappointing news yesterday. It was the sort of sad news that makes you want to give up trying to make your life work at all. You know the news. The prayer not answered in the way you hoped it would be. The hope you held that comes crashing down around you. The outcome so opposite to what you felt would happen, you realize it was your own hopeful thinking and not the path of right you thought it was. Worse, the spiritual impression you thought you had been given that turns out otherwise and causes you to question everything...

I write these words knowing there are a few of you out there who have experienced this.

Yesterday closed with me feeling like I didn't want to pray for anything anymore. Or pray at all. Ever. Not even to say, "NOT cool, God. NOT COOL!"

For those of you who know me, this not who I am.

Yet this most recent bit of bad news grabbed hold of my faithful roots and shook them with the intent to rip them clear of the spiritual ground they are firmly planted in. Those faithful roots that say God hears us, He loves us, and His hand is in our lives.

So when I went to bed last night (after thinking and doing the things I have recommended in this blog--which usually work), I was confused, hopeless, and mad at God.

But this morning I found myself turning to the only place I can find peace when I need it most. And there I was, praying.

Yesterday Kelsie said to me, "When you can't hope anymore, you just have to do. Sometimes trying to have hope is just too painful." More wise words from the youth in my life.

Doing requires action, work. Which may not be work exercised in hope, but will be action that produces results, nonetheless. So any action, even if you don't feel your best doing it, will move things forward.

The thought struck me that when these times happen, it's important to continue to try to be hopeful for more (of whatever it is you need and/or want), but to be grateful for and take loving care of what you have. I cannot underscore this enough. (Actually, I can't underscore it at all--there isn't an underline tag tab. But you get what I'm trying to emphasize here.)

Hope is a precious thing. It is the seed of faith. Without hope, we have nothing. And for anyone who has ever felt hopeless, you know how disabling (and sometimes paralyzing) it can be.

But I am given to appreciate the words of my 22 year old daughter, Kelsie. Because in working and serving and doing, with gratitude for whatever we can find to be grateful for, I think hope can find it's way back.

I have no answers about what happened yesterday. But when I woke up this morning and realized there was only one place to turn to feel better, I was grateful I believe in God's power to make things right in my life and help me find my way. (Even if it seems for the moment He's sequestered Himself in the heavens and is nowhere to be found.)

Yesterday I said to God, "What the HELL are YOU DOING?!?!?!?"

I meant it.

This morning, I thanked Him. For everything I should. Gratitude and commitment to God, regardless. Because I trust Him.

The sun is shining and the sounds of summer--birds chirping, lawnmowers mowing, and a small airplane buzzing in the background of a clear blue sky--are outside my window. I am grateful for life. For all of it.

Happy #101 is purely: Hope for more, but be grateful for and take loving care of what you have.

Those of you who regularly read this blog (you know who you are), thank you for your support. I feel your love.