The Gift of an Ordinary Day   5 comments

Something is different inside me lately.  Something has shaken loose, allowing colors to come back into my life and emotion to fill my heart.

I began to notice this even a month ago.  I recall the feeling of my heart feeling full, a gratefulness of being in the right place at the right time, as I considered whether or not to sign the membership book on that last evening of my three-part class at the Mahtomedi church I had chosen to attend.  The path of my life had brought me to that place, and already I had met some wonderful people who felt like they were meant to travel with me for a ways on my journey.  I signed the book that evening, deciding then and there that I had nothing to fear but fear itself.  As Reverend Victoria Safford hugged me, I could have wept.  Crying is an emotional expression that has become quite alien to me as the years have gone on.  I welcomed that emotion as I welcomed the next segment of my life’s journey.

Days later, I did shed tears at Sunday’s sermon about grief entitled, “Now is  The Eternal Life.”  I thought about my loved ones who have passed on, holding them close in my heart.  I felt the connection with all those around me who have felt a similar sense of loss.  I was part of that community of humanity.  I was alone with my memories and my grief — but so NOT alone!  My tears were tears of gratefulness.

Yesterday, after I had published, “My Alternate Lifestyle,” I got an email from the friend who had posed the question, “How does Bonnie cope when Dale is gone?”  He wanted me to know that he and his wife were there for me.  It was a simple thing, really, but when he said, “Should a heavy snow visit us in his absence (and hopefully the snowblower is repaired) you can count on me to slip over and clear the driveway. Period.”  Just….period.  End of story.  You need me, I’m there. This is a man who knew my husband back when they were in college together and they had no contact for close to 40 years.  We reconnected with him and his wife just recently, and the depth and the sincerity of the friendship amongst all four people involved has just been beautiful, a real blessing.  I was profoundly moved that a friend would make this offer when my own neighbors have never asked, “Do you need help?”  I felt joy in my heart and knew that I am indeed blessed.

I’ve been feeling it in the little things: holding my husband’s hand under a cold, moonlit sky, grateful for his companionship and devotion, grateful that he brought me home to Minnesota 34 years ago to build a life here.  I am grateful for the sunrises that herald a new day.  I am glad I have a job to go to, a profession that lends meaning to my life.

I feel blessed to feel! I’ve just been putting one foot in front of the other for so long now. Getting by.  Doing okay.  Kind of faking it, not really making it.

Something is changing.

I’m embracing the change.

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Posted November 20, 2010 by StPaulieGrrl in Mental Health, spirituality

Tagged with , , ,

5 responses to “The Gift of an Ordinary Day

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  1. I’m very happy to hear that you’re feeling better these days, Bonnie.

    I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I am here for you too. Anything you need that I can possibly do for you… I’m there. 🙂

    ((hugs))

  2. I don’t ask for help well, Lottie, although I certainly appreciate it when people offer it. I had it engrained in me from a young age that the only person I could really depend upon was myself. Not only do I not ask, often the thought doesn’t even occur to me to ask. It’s something I’m working on changing in myself.

  3. I understand, Bonnie. I was taught by the woman who raised me that asking for help is a sign of weak character and even failure. I know, intellectually, that this is not true, but emotionally it’s still very difficult. Even when I do ask for and receive help, I experience a lot of anxiety and fear that I’m a terrible loser.

    I know this isn’t the same kind of thing that you’re referring to, but I wanted to let you know that I can relate on some level. You’re certainly not alone. ((hugs))

    I’m working on these issues too, and that’s the best thing that we can do for ourselves!

  4. Our experiences are different in that regard. I didn’t have anyone implying I was a loser if I asked for help, but my mother expected that I was there to take care of her. She wasn’t there to take care of me; I owed her! On the other hand, my father was treating me as though I were an adult partner by the time I was 12 or 13 and was turning to me as a source of his strength. Where was mine suppose to come from when I was expected from a young age to take care of everyone else? I learned that no one other than myself was going to do it, and a lot of times as an adult, it just doesn’t occur to me to even ask.

    It’s good to recognize these patterns and try to challenge them when they get in the way of our growth and potential.

  5. It’s definitely good to recognize and challenge these patterns. I’m glad that we are both working on these things and trying to take better care of ourselves. We deserve it! 🙂

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