Twenty years

I got the phone call with the dreaded news twenty years ago today.

Yes, it is cancer.  

Two days before Christmas.

Such a diagnosis claims instant power to freeze the frames of your life.

Fear barges into the picture.

Questions cry out.

Priorities shift.

Christmas plans fade into the shadows along with other duties and responsibilities… until slowly… we are somehow able to step out from behind the bad news and go through the motions of the celebration that continues around us.  Life goes on - or so we hope.

I have no idea why I was one of the lucky ones with good outcomes in my treatment plan. No clue why I’m a survivor even while losing dear friends and family members to cancer.

Yes, I am grateful for my good fortune. 

And yes, I am aware of some sense of pressure to live well. 

I often think of those dear ones and wish they could still have that privilege.  What a blessing to have had them in my life and to have learned valuable lessons from every one of them.

Becky 

Jerry

Karin

Jodi

Karina

Ron

I think of others who have also lost dear ones to this awful disease.  

And other diseases.

And reckless drivers.

And acts of war.

Sometimes I don’t know what to do with such sadness.

All I know to do is to care.

To offer kindness and compassion.

Thankful for kindness and respect

Today I am thankful for friends who are reasonable and real and honest, but also kind and respectful.  They almost feel like a rare breed in these days of division and vitriol and it can feel tricky to find safe places to think and talk and process.

I don’t fit on “this” side nor do I want to stand on “that” side.

They both feel dangerous and scary.

I tend to withdraw and avoid.

But I need to process the hard stuff.

I need perspective for my blind spots.

I need correction where I’m just plain wrong.

I’m so glad that there ARE people out there who are safe.

There are people who are reasonable.  

Who are kind and compassionate and patient.

Who remind me to do the best I can. 

And to keep learning… 

So that I can do better.

I am grateful to know such people.

Thankful Thursday, Thankful month

 I am so thankful that change is possible.

I tend to get discouraged about my less-than-stellar natural tendencies.

To mope around and say “That’s just the way I am.”

To believe that there’s no hope of changing.

But I don’t want to live there.

I don’t want to give up.

Therefore I am relieved to learn that I CAN change.

For example, I used to be a lousy finisher. 

I always had so many ideas of things I wanted to do.

Sometimes I even started some of them... but I rarely finished.

But… 

Things are changing.

I have finally begun to learn that change IS possible.

Small steps

Tiny powerful habits

Regular repeated rituals

Better practices and lots of practice

Big things can be accomplished (finished!) through such tactics.

I can and I did accomplish a really big project.

Again.

I finished writing over 50,000 words during the month of November.

For the fourteenth year in a row.

The goal of 50,000 words is daunting, but 2000 words/day is reachable.

That daily goal can be broken down into smaller chunks.

I took those small steps.

I built tiny powerful habits.

I repeated certain rituals every morning.

These became my practice.

Day after day.

And I finished that whole thing.

I am a finisher.

So, yes; on this thankful Thursday, I am thankful that change is possible. 

Writing groups I have known

My first memory of writing groups was one led by my brother-in-law, Jerry.  I had heard of such gatherings and imagined them to be wonderful spaces. His group did not disappoint.  That first visit would whet my appetite even though it was a critique group - for which I was not ready - and it was too far to drive regularly.  But from that day forth I would hope to find a writing group that would be the right fit for me.

After landing in a place where I knew nobody, I got up the nerve to join Meet-ups to look for a writing group. I found two - in sequence.  The first was yet another critique group composed of all fiction writers so it was obviously not a good fit for me, but I attended a couple times anyway, because I knew that I could still benefit from being around other writers.  Sure enough, I was fascinated to listen to an amazing woman relate to the group how she was switching genres at age 102 - because she “can’t see well enough to write fiction any more."  So there she was trying her hand at writing poetry - which for some reason seemed to work better. Go figure.

After landing in our next place, I discovered my second writing Meet-up… just a mile from my house. In this group I met a dear friend with whom I felt an instant connection.  It has been my privilege to know her and learn from her.

Also in this new place, I was lucky enough to discover and attend the very first Flint Festival of Writers - and then the second and the third… I figure a writing festival is a bit like a writing group - just with a different format.  What fun to hang out with real writers and learn from them!  Amazingly some of them have become my friends.  I feel blessed.

Out of those festivals and through those friendships, I discovered yet another local writing group - this one within walking distance - at UM-Flint's Writing Center.*  It turned out to be a good fit for me.  I do admit I struggled a bit with imposter syndrome at first - because these people had studied writing in college and knew way more than I do since my major was not in literature nor writing composition.  But they welcomed me and encouraged me so genuinely and so consistently that my confidence grew to the point where I published a book!  And then another!  That’s just crazy.

Ooh, and there was that one other group.  I remember talking with one of my new writer friends about the maxim “If you can’t find the right writing group, start your own.”  And so we did.  Somehow a group of just the right people came together and we had such fun and learned so much.  I guess the time was right.  And then it wasn’t.  Circumstances changed for several in the group and we moved on, but what a delight to be part of it while it was happening.

Finding a sense of belonging in a writing group has played a huge role not only in my writing journey but also in my journey of life… because writing is one of the most significant ways I make sense of my life.  To say I am thankful for such groups would most indubitably be an understatement.  That’s why they make the cut for my Thankful Week posts.  

...

* My thanks to the helpful tutors at the Marian E. Wright Writing Center for the photo.

Minimalist Thanksgiving

“Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go… “ 

In our one-room country school, we had learned every word of at least seven verses of that nostalgic song.  But my family only had to go across the road to get to our grandmother’s house where we enjoyed roasted duck and other wonderful foods.

More traditions were added through the years.  Like the year that we opened our Christmas tree farm...  Bob’s family really wanted to participate on opening day - which was the day after Thanksgiving - and so it was determined that our family dinner would be that evening.  One of the in-laws took charge of the turkey at the house while Bob and I handled the tree farm operation and his siblings hung out in the wreath shed crafting their own original creations.  At closing time, we all headed back to the house to enjoy the meal that was waiting for us.  The schedule was complicated, but we made it work - for probably a dozen years - because so many were willing to help.

In recent years I have come to realize that the first Thanksgiving story was not as idyllic as I used to think - and that the “relationships” between the “pilgrims and Indians” were far from equitable.  Similar observations could be made about many long-standing celebrations - that the reality usually contains both good and not-so-good.  

I struggle to figure out how to handle such traditions that are fraught with less than ideal components.  At this moment in time, I guess I just try to find the good that I can and to focus on gratitude.  

Our kids all needed to be elsewhere today so we enjoyed a quiet day at home -  complete with turkey pot pies!  Not even kidding.  A minimalist Thanksgiving.  Simple and moderate.

This was not our first non-traditional Thanksgiving dinner.  There was another - 34 years ago.  We were living in the Dominican Republic where we taught in an English school. Since most of the staff and students were Americans, the school calendar gave us all the day off to celebrate Thanksgiving and the day after.  The long weekend seemed the perfect time to go to our favorite beach.  So we loaded our family of five onto a bus for the 90-minute trip to the north shore.  

It was obvious there would be no turkey and stuffing and gravy in the lovely little town of Sosua.  When lunch time came we took a break and gathered round the little table in our hotel room for our gourmet meal… of crackers and cheese … and a few Dominican snacks we had just discovered.  Nice and simple.  Of course we were hungry again by nightfall and celebrated again at the little rooftop pizza place.  

It’s only partly about the food. 

I don’t need to have all of those yummy traditional dishes in order to feel thankful.

I certainly don’t need to gorge myself - and then regret it in the coming days.

And I don’t really enjoy the schedule or the travel being so complicated.

So yes, the ideas of simplicity and moderation sound really good to me.

Less food, less stress, no less thankful.

Thankful for health care

I do not like medical testing on a Wednesday

Or on any day of the week.  

Spending the better part of a day in a hospital is not my idea of a good time.  

However… 

I am definitely grateful for the testing and treatment options we have available.  

I am well aware of the masses of people who do not have access to such care.  

Especially this week I can’t help but think of those who have had those options suddenly and violently ripped away from them - along with any sense of safety or security. 

My heart hurts for them. 

Thankful week

I seem to be facing an unusually quiet week.  For the first time in awhile, our house won’t be full of kids and grandkids on Thanksgiving Day.  That quiet schedule could feel a little strange and I suppose I could mope around and be sad to miss the traditional festivities.  But that would seem a tad ungrateful.   

I don’t mind so much really.  We will see our kids other times and in other ways - like chats and meet-ups.  And I really do enjoy quiet times in my comfy house.  I might even clear some space to set up an old jigsaw puzzle.  Talk about traditions and memories!

At the very least, I think I shall declare this as Thankful Week in the Thankful Thursday tradition - as a reminder to pause each day to notice something I am thankful for.  

But first I ponder the reality that these thankful pauses can make me painfully aware of so, so many less-fortunate people.  I don’t ever want to flaunt my blessings… but what sort of ingrate would I be if I did not at least appreciate them? As I wonder what to do with such disparity, maybe my pause can include tender thoughts for people who are heartbreakingly bereft of such comfort or safety.  I am at a loss to know of anything I can do for them except maybe to honor them with moments of reverence and compassion.

'Tis the season

I have not participated in Five Minute Friday for a while.  Every Friday FMF sends out a word for the day and writers write for five minutes.  Just set the timer for 5 minutes and write. No editing, no back-tracking, just write.  So I did.

...

Five-Minute Friday

The word is SEASON.

And… go!

…

’Tis the season!

To do what?

To be jolly?  

Maybe, but the nightly news lately certainly does not encourage jolliness.

To get back on track?

To take on a new project?

Maybe to start cooking healthy stuff.

Certainly to tackle those archives.  The boxes and bins full of old books, papers, files, and other leftovers from a busy life.  A life too busy evidently to stay current on pitching stuff no longer needed.

For me of course, ’tis the season for NaNoWriMo.  

Lately I have been thinking about the seasons of life.

’Tis the season for…

• Letting go of some things… to make room for better things
• Figuring out what matters most
• Finding some wisdom for prioritizing

Yep, certainly need wisdom - for so many things, but yah, priorities are a biggie. I want to pay attention to what season it is.

How lucky I am

I was feeling a bit down this morning.

Discouraged, deflated, maybe even a smidge grumpy.

And sad.

I was missing someone special.

Grieving their loss.

So sad.

Suddenly my alarm jangles, rudely reminding me that it is Thankful Thursday.

Bah, humbug.

I’m not feeling thankful at the moment; thank you very much.

I’m sad and maybe even mad.

I don’t like the pain of missing people.

I don’t like loss.

Do I even want to be thankful?

Maybe I’d rather stay grumpy.

Winnie the Pooh found a way to put a positive spin on this kind of sadness.

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

Not sure I can find Pooh’s level of exuberance this morning, but I guess I can pause to consider his wisdom. 

I mean... he IS right.

I really am lucky to have known this someone who was so wonderful... that missing them is really hard.

That doesn’t necessarily mean that I won’t be sad or grumpy.  I mean there I was slogging around in the swamp of longing and loneliness - and along comes Thankful Thursday - interrupting my belly-aching session.

How rude.  

Which of course highlights the very reason for practicing Thankful Thursday.

And for setting that alarm.  

‘Tis a reminder that I need.