GRACE AND GRATITUDE

Because I have a very clear awareness of the role grace plays in my life, I often find myself thinking and making the statement  "It's all grace." 

Grace can be defined as goodwill or favor, a delay granted, a prayer of thanks or a title.  The grace I am speaking of is favor that is granted when nothing was done to earn it. Just by virtue of the fact that we inhabit a body and that we are creations of divine energy means our lives are grace filled.

If we are too busy to notice grace, or if it has not yet dawned on us how full of grace life is, does not alter the fact that we are grace filled beings. 

I notice the moments of grace in my life from the kindest of acts bestowed upon me when I need them the most to all the little miracles that keep showing up and filling me with awe. Like when Paul and I went to Ireland for a nine day motorcycle trip. The staff at the motorcycle rental place told us it was the rainy season so we needed to bring rain gear. We flew into Dublin in the rain. The next morning when we picked up our motorcycle the rain stopped and it did not rain until the day we returned the motorcycle and were getting ready to leave Ireland. Or the time I was sitting at a stop light and a car coming in my direction lost control and was headed for me and all of a sudden it veered and did not hit me. Or all the times my sweetheart makes me a cup of coffee or reaches for my hand. I could go on and on but the list would be ad infinitum because life is full of grace. 

I think many times we are too busy or too unaware to notice the touch of divine energy in our lives. It is easy to take life for granted and fail to stop for a while and focus on the miracles and goodness that surround us.

Sliding into a negative space and paying more attention to the "bad" things happening to us or around us can be habitual. We can start to take the gift of life for granted and miss the miracles that abound and forget that we are graceful beings. 

For me, noticing and focusing on the goodness and grace of life fills me with gratitude for this life that I get to live. It fills me with a deep feeling of kindness and love towards myself and all of creation. 

It behooves each of us to take time to notice life and not sleepwalk through it. Look up at the sky and pay attention to the magnificent colors of the earth. Notice how trees grow and how animals go about their lives. Look into your loved ones eyes and see the goodness that abides in their soul. 

We all live in grace and when we "get" this we can't help but be filled to the brim with gratitude, and when that happens it spills over and runs out on others. 

Notice the grace in your life today.

Life life in gratitude.

 

 

MY BROTHER

 

MY BROTHER

Today, September 15, would have been my brother's 83rd birthday. He is no longer with us, but though he is gone, the memories live on.

My brother was 2 1/2 years older than me and was a typical big brother. He pretty much let me follow him from one place to the other and even rode me on the handlebars of his bike in he summer so we could go to the Shell swimming pool together. Those were the fun days. We played together, ate together, traveled to family events together and were very close.

And then the teen years came and we began to drift apart. He developed interests that I was not included in and I was living in my own world by then. We would sometimes go together to the weekly sock hops and to the ice cream parlor on Friday nights, but we seldom came home together. 

In 1957 my mother remarried and she, my stepdad and my brother and I moved away from our childhood home and into a new home in Metairie, La. I was in the 10th grade and my brother went off to college. 

While still in college he got married and he moved to Baton Rouge. We really went separate ways then. I remember thinking often that he was an alien and I did not know who he was anymore. 

I think we both had changed a lot by then and were definitely pursuing different goals and had different lifestyles. He had gotten his degree from LSU and was making good money and living a lifestyle that was not familiar to me. I would sometimes visit him but seldom felt comfortable around him anymore. 

The closeness we had shared during childhood was definitely gone and though I longed to be close to him again, I could not seem to find a way into his life. We were like night and day and except for being related by blood and connected by family, I felt no connection.

I am grateful all of that changed when we got older. He went through a divorce and remarried and we started connecting a little bit more. Over the years, thankfully, we drew closer and closer to one another and I felt like I had my brother back.

As I look back on all of those years and the broken relationship we had I can see how my feeling intimidated by him helped to create the gap that developed between us. As I began to grow in my sense of self I was able to take a step back and look at him in a different way. Instead of judging him for being who he was, I began to look at all of his good qualities and I found myself appreciating him and taking an interest in his life and what he was doing. 

The closer I moved in towards him, loving and appreciating him, the more he moved towards me and we rekindled the close brother-sister relationship we had as children. Before I knew it we were calling each other all the time and sharing stories about our lives.

On January 20, 2021, the unthinkable happened and my brother died of Covid-19.  He was in the hospital in quarantine so I could not go see him. Before he had to go on a ventilator, I called him to try to talk to him. He did not have his hearing aids in so he could not hear me. I was screaming into the phone and he could not hear me. He finally hung up, the next day he was on a ventilator and that was that. 

I was in Virginia at the time and he was in Arkansas. I knew in my spirit that he was not going to make it. Feeling distraught over not being able to see him or talk to him so I could say good-bye, I did the next best thing and decided to communicate spirit to spirit.  My spirit talked to his spirit many times over the two weeks before he died so I did get to tell him what he meant to me, how much I loved him and how much I was going to miss him. I said my good-byes in spirit.

I miss our phone calls, our visits and I miss his being able to fill in the missing details of my life from when we were children. It is strange and still sad on birthdays and holidays to not be able to talk to him.

I loved my brother (it was just the two of us) and I will always miss him and hold him close in my heart. I am grateful for the opportunity to get to know him as an adult and to share in his life. And now, thankfully I get to continue to share him with his two sons, my nephews Anthony and Andy. 

Happy birthday Bubbee. You are loved and you are missed. 

My brother and my son, Mac

It Feels Like Writers Block

A couple of weeks ago I began to think I had writers block. The reason I thought this was because lately, every time I sit down to write, it feels like I have cobwebs in my head.

I keep working at my writing thinking I need to prime the pump since it has been a while since I have written a book or a blog. But, that hasn't been working. The cobwebs are still there and the feeling I have nothing to say, even though the well is full and running over, remains. But, beyond that, there is also the feeling that I can't think of what words to use to convey my thoughts.

In short, I am looking at how much doubt I have about myself and my capabilities. 

I have been going within and talking to my spirit and asking for clarity on what is going on, because I sense that this is deeper than writers block. I feel the weight of something "big" coming to the surface to be seen and acknowledged.

Finally, after sitting and communing with spirit and opening to insight, I see it. What is staring me in the face is FEAR and DOUBT.

Fear of not being enough, of not knowing enough, of looking and sounding like a fool, of being made fun of and laughed at. Fear of people not wanting to read what I write because my words are not interesting enough.. Fear of thinking I am something I am not, a writer.  Fear of not being seen or heard. 

I long to write and love to write and the words are right there when I either sit with a pen in my hand, ready to put to paper, or at my laptop. Then I freeze, my mind goes blank, and I can't think of anything to say.

How deep is the fear? What does the act of writing activate within me that clouds my thinking and makes me want to get up and run? This is big stuff and it opens me up to knowing I have some big, unresolved hurts and wounds to look at, embrace and heal. There is obviously still a lot of childhood issues and beliefs sitting in my psyche waiting for light to be shed on them.

Every time I think I have hit a landmark on my healing journey, I discover another layer of the onion to peel away. So, I keep paying attention and peeling and healing while being aware that the story of my life is right here with me, nudging and pulling at me, and I am at choice as to whether to see and acknowledge what is there, or ignore it and pretend all is okay.

There is still a big piece of the hurt and trauma that my little girl, adolescent, teenager and young woman continues to carry.

My mind still remembers being called foolish, bad, a dreamer and crazy.

My cells still remember feeling flawed and less then.

My muscles and bones still remember feeling like no matter what I did or how I did it, it was just not quite good enough to satisfy the adults in my life . 

I still remember the inept feeling of somehow knowing I would never be able to measure up to my brother or my cousins (the good ones, the ones I was measured against.)

As a result, I tend to question every word I write, every blog I post, every article I have published. Is it good enough for people to read? Will it be of interest to anyone? I SO love that my longing for consciousness and authenticity keeps showing me the hurt, misguided beliefs and wounds that are ready and waiting for the healing light.

In the midst of all of this awareness, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for my being conscious enough to spot my areas of unconsciousness. I am thankful that I am where I am on my path to recognize what is calling to me for attention and love.

Meanwhile, I keep writing, as I can and as I feel inspired to do. I need to do this as I continue to do my healing work..

I recognize that I care enough about myself and my healing journey to listen carefully to what my body and soul is telling me and showing me. I know I am walking my sacred purpose, which writing is a part of, and I thank you for reading my words. My longing is to make a difference as I contribute to humanity.