Planting Flowers

I recently came across these wise words on a FB post:

"Why so optimistic about 2017?  What do you think it will bring?

I think it will bring flowers.

Yes?  How come?

Because I am planting flowers."

With a contented sigh I stretched out my legs on the bus seat where I sat.  I glanced over to the two girlfriends I was traveling with, exchanged quiet smiles, and let my attention wander out of a window to the Texas countryside.  Fields of wildflowers covered the ground like a vividly colored blanket.  I remembered it was a project started by Lady Bird Johnson who simply wanted to make her part of the world a bit more beautiful.

It was April 2016, and I was taking a much needed vacation.  Life had been challenging for the past year or two.  My husband, Jim, had been ill.  Our lives were changing dramatically, and those changes were difficult.   Much of the time I was feeling overwhelmed and worried.

Jim owned a deli and catering business.  Unfortunately his illness caused frequent trips to the hospital.  That left me to run the business as well as care for him.  I did not step out of my comfort zone as much as I was pulled out of it kicking and screaming.

 The deli was always a bit quieter when Jim wasn't there.  He was the heart of the place, and everyone was a bit subdued when we were without that heart.  Those who felt his absence included the homeless men that Jim welcomed into the deli during the day.  They whiled away the hours there watching television, reading the newspaper, and sometimes even sleeping.  I am not proud to say that Jim's heart was bigger than mine.  While I noticed the ways they seemed to take advantage of him, Jim respected them as fellow human beings.  That is until one day when a simple act caused my heart to open.

Jim was in the hospital, and I was whisking through the deli with my thoughts bouncing from one thing I needed to do to the next.  Suddenly I noticed one of the homeless men sitting at a table and bent over an open sketch book.  Curiously I walked over to him and asked to see what he was doing.  Together we leafed through the pages of his sketchbook.  The depth of his talent astounded me.  As we reached the final drawing I started to walk away.  A thought occurred to me, and I turned back to him.  With the two of us sitting side by side i touched his arm and quietly asked him for a favor.  As he understood my request his eyes began to shine.  With a smile and a nod he agreed to do as I asked.

A week later he approached me with an anxious smile and his sketchbook tucked safely in his arms.  His hands shook a bit as he opened it to a beautiful sketch of the deli's storefront.  The deli was going to be sold within a month or so.  The drawing was a gift to Jim.  I knew it would be something he would cherish not only because it was a beautiful depiction of a major part of his life but also because the artist was someone he cared about. It was the perfect gift for each of them.  Jim loved the drawing, and it hangs in a place of honor in our home.  The artist not only received monetary payment but also gained back his pride and self-worth.  Yes, it was the perfect gift.

Here's the thing.  It almost didn't happen.  I was so overcome with fear that I almost missed an opportunity to open my heart.  I was so wrapped up in my little world of worry that I had all but closed myself off to the people around me.  Change is said to be difficult for us, and everything around me seemed to be changing.

Once again our world is changing.  Many of us are unsure about the future, and that scares us.  Our fear can lead to our closing our hearts and isolating ourselves.  Our world of worry can cause more damage and pain than any one person or group of people can cause.

I realize that I need to step put of my world of worry.  I am going to consciously look for the beauty that surrounds me.  I'm going to take time to smell the flowers.  I am also going to plant some flowers, well at least figuratively.  Mine will be simple acts of kindness.  I'll smile and say hello to you.   I'll open doors for you and pick up what you drop.  I'll let you squeeze into line ahead of me and ask God to bless you when you sneeze.  Most of all I will see you and recognize your worth as a fellow human being.  I'm going to imitate Lady Bird and make my own part of the world a bit more beautiful.

Quiet Winds

"I can fly higher than  an eagle, for you are the wind beneath my wings."  
Lyrics from, Wind Beneath My Wings.

I have a confession to make.  I think I enjoy the days after Christmas as much if not more than Christmas Day itself.   As I write this I am savoring the peace that surrounds me. The lights from our Christmas tree are gently glowing, and Christmas carols are playing softly in the background.  Too often the days leading up to Christmas find me frantically trying to complete the myriad of things that come with this season.  And so it was that I found myself outside one cold night, hurrying across my yard as I worked to complete one more task.  Suddenly my eyes rested on the nativity set displayed in our yard, and I abandoned any thought of those tasks still undone.  I found myself drawn to the statue of Joseph.  Ice hung from his face as well as the lantern held in his hand.  Quietly he crouched protectively over the baby lying in the manager.  Quietly he held the ice covered lantern providing light in the cold dark night.  Quietly he shouldered the incredible responsibility of safe guarding this child who Christians believe to be the son of God.

As a child I was taught the lessons and stories of my faith.  One was the story of the Holy Family's flight into Egypt.  There was always the same kind of illustration that went with this story.  The Blessed Mother was pristine as she sat on a donkey with the Baby Jesus cradled in her arms.  Joseph walked next to them, placidly leading the donkey through the countryside. All in all it was a tranquil picture. Then a few years ago I visited the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C.  There was a statue there which gave a much different version of their flight, and I daresay a much more accurate depiction of it.  It shows the exhaustion they must have felt as they ran for their lives.  

Once again my eyes were drawn to Joseph.  He is slumped down as he tries to rest.  What you cannot see in this photo is that his eyes are not completely closed.  He is on guard even as he attempts to regain some strength in order to push on to Egypt and safety.

As a child I felt sorry for Joseph.  It did not seem fair that this man who shouldered so much responsibility got so little attention.  As an adult I understood the reasons for it, but it still seemed that he did not receive his just due.

As I reflected on his faith and humility I began to recognize similar people in my life.  For every person who returns home from some adventure or service there is another who picks him up at the airport and stands by as the traveler receives attention and accolades.  For many gifted photographers who will receive well-earned recognition for the images they capture there are others who follow close behind shouldering a photo bag filled with equipment.  In my mind they are "Joseph-ing."  They are the foster parents and step-parents who coach the ball games or hug away the tears of a child.  They are the teachers who encourage a child struggling to learn and patiently explain the lesson again and again.  They are the doctors who sit with a patient going through a difficult treatment quietly supporting them rather than going home to their own families. They are those same doctors' loved ones who greet them with understanding and love as they arrive home very late and emotionally drained.  They are the steel workers who work the extra shifts because their child is starting college and the tuition needs to be paid.  From the shadows they are stepping up and tirelessly working on a myriad of tasks all so that someone they believe in, have faith in, can shine.  

Recently one of the "Josephs" in my life taught me a profound lesson about humility in a very simple way.  We were gathering around the table for a holiday meal, each of us randomly selecting the place where we would sit.  As this person approached the table there were few seat options left.  The closest open chair was at the head of the table.  "Joseph" looked at me with a quiet smile and rejected that place.  He did not want the added attention it might bring.  He quietly chose another less conspicuous place.  

We hear much about gift giving this time of year.  Christians celebrate the gift of Jesus to the world.  Joseph dedicated his life to raising and protecting this child.  In doing so his life became a gift to us as well.  It was a gift given in the truest sense of the word.  It came from his heart, and he expected nothing in return.   

The "Josephs" in my life give from their hearts.  Their presence is a quiet breath of air.  They are the quiet winds beneath their loved ones' wings.  The quiet winds that allow others to soar. 

Thank you, "Joseph,"  for lifting me up and encouraging me to fly.