Life Coach: Spirit, Body and Mind

Musings: Freedom

Margo — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 02:47:36 +0000

Since yesterday I have been enjoying a very special freedom. I was sick for the last two weeks. Some horrible bug of an influenza/bronchitis type just took hold of my body and shook it right down to its roots. I was knocked off my feet and spent about seven or eight days in bed followed by five or six days of tentatively, slowly getting back to “normal”. During that period I made three trips to the doctor.

I had no desire whatsoever to talk to people or to think about what I might be doing with my day. I had no desire to be doing anything with my day other than migrating from the bed to the couch and back again. I was totally worn out from terrible coughing spasms that wracked my body and made me wonder if I was about to cough my insides outside!!

It was only in the last couple of days, as I began to feel a small level of strength and a vague sense of wellness returning to my body, that I was able to admit to feeling a little annoyed about the disruption to my “normal” life, and the “waste of time”. It didn’t help to know that my husband was missing my misery as he travelled to – guess where? My beloved Italy!!

There was only one good thing about this period of sickness. For the first time ever I did not fight the bug. I was aware almost immediately that something bad had got me and instead of doing my usual heroics and resisting it and trying to carry on as usual, I let it have its way with me. I knew that whatever it was needed to take its course, so as soon as I realized it wasn’t going away after 48 hours, I got a doctor’s evaluation, medication, and took myself to bed.

I did all the right things. I stayed indoors neither exposing myself to other germs nor others to mine. As I said I spent over a week between bed and the couch. I drank gallons of liquid; water, juices, and lots of herbal teas duly sweetened with honey. I really took care of me and in doing so took care of others by non-contamination. I prayed a lot and asked God to heal me in His time.

I eventually went outside to run a small errand around day nine. Then I kept a doctor’s appointment and ran an errand on day ten. I ventured to the library, one more doctor appointment, and ran another errand on day eleven. I did not go wild and try and catch up on everything that I had had to let go of when I was struck down. By day twelve I felt almost back to “normal” and, joy of joy, I was able to take a wonderful motorcycle ride with my husband yesterday – day thirteen.

As I rode the back of the Harley on a gorgeous sun-filled, warm, day under a beautiful blue sky, I was filled with joy. My heart overflowed as I enjoyed my new-found freedom from sickness. I was free of the bug, I was free of being imprisoned in my home, confined to the bed and the couch. I was free to be outside in God’s glorious creation. I raised my hands to the skies and shouted “Thank you God, thank you, thank you!!”

I have learned a new appreciation through this experience. I have a whole new respect for the long-term sick person who is confined to bed, whether at home or in hospital. The sense of freedom that I enjoyed yesterday as we rode to Daytona has opened my eyes and my heart to what they must suffer on top of whatever health issue is keeping them imprisoned. So today I have a renewed awareness and heightened level of gratitude for the freedom that good health grants me.

Along the same lines:

OASIS: Polly

Margo — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 14:00:00 +0000

In the summer, when the air was warm and my skinny nine-year old legs were brown and bare, I swung impatiently on the garden gate. My belly tingled in anticipation and every time I heard a car coming down the road, my heart pounded so fast and so loud I thought the whole world could hear it.

When the weather was too cold to be outside or if it was raining (quite frequently in England!), I sat with my nose pressed up against the window pane in the living room, fogging up the glass with each breath I exhaled. Eventually the shiny black car would swing around the corner and come to a halt in front of the “prefab” where I lived, and I would fly to the front door.

My parents had married during the second world war and, until I was about five years old, they had shared a tiny, two-bedroom apartment with my mother’s older sister and her husband. After the war, the British government erected hundreds of prefabricated homes (prefabs) to house all those who had lost their homes during the war, and we qualified.

Ours was a typical lower income, middle class working family. Both my parents worked but it was always a struggle for them to just cover the basic needs. My mother miraculously juggled the shillings and the pennies and made ends meet. I have a very clear mental picture of her sitting at the kitchen table with her little accounts book open and the long green metal box with the labeled slots (rent, gas, electricity, insurance, etc.) on the table beside her.

But Sundays were different. Sundays were magical and the magic always began with my childish anticipation of Aunty Polly’s arrival. Her husband, my Uncle Gordon, always accompanied her but I never really paid him much attention. He was a very quiet unassuming man who, once they arrived, would sit in a corner and read the Sunday newspaper from cover to cover, drinking the endless cups of tea that my mother made. I think he saved the paper especially for this occasion. But he was never the cause of my excitement. He was just the driver; a means to an end.

I suppose I could describe Aunty Polly in several different ways. Physically she was strikingly beautiful with her short, rippling black hair and vibrant red lips – such a dramatic contrast to her dark features. (I found out later that her features and coloring came from her Jewish background.) And – oh how she dressed! She never wore anything “ordinary” and everything matched.

She was elegant, refined and expensive looking, but not in an untouchable way. I think fashion critics would have labeled her as “quietly chic” and as having that indefinable something called “style” and “class”. And she had a vivacity about her that made the whole world come to life.

Aunty Polly was my real life “Fairy Godmother” who brought so much joy into my life. She waved her wand over my childhood and candy and ice cream appeared every Sunday as if by magic. I’m sure that much of my excitement and anticipation was based on the mouth-watering sensations produced by my taste buds as I waited impatiently on the gate or at the window. Aunty Polly was also a superb seamstress, so often there was the added joy of a new dress in the latest style, made beautiful fabric in the most perfect of colors.

On the very rare occasion, we would make the trip to her house which was a veritable adventure in and of itself. When she lived in one house this would entail two different bus rides and a long walk in a very posh part of town. After moving to a different house, which was actually an enormous apartment, the journey included a train ride which was probably the most exciting thing we had done all year!

Visiting Polly’s house was like going to Aladdin’s cave. Her home was large and spacious and full of so many interesting things. There were many pictures on the walls, ornaments on coffee tables (probably very expensive curios and “objets d’art”), and fresh flowers filled vases in every room – even the bathrooms. The furniture was the kind you saw in magazines or drooled over in showrooms, and there was always music playing. Our prefab was very dull and bare by comparison. I hated going home.

But Aunty Polly was more to me than all of this. When she put her arms around me it was the sweetest, the most heavenly sensation I ever experienced. I didn’t want it to end. I felt loved and wanted just exactly as I was and it felt so good to be inside the circle of her loving arms. And, oh how she smelled! She always wore the most exquisite perfume that made me want to bury my face in her neck and never let go again.

She never tried to change me or tell me how I should or should not be or how to act. She just accepted and loved me for who I was. She actually listened to me and always seemed interested in everything I had to say. Even as I grew older and became a troubled and rebellious teenager, Aunty Polly continued to love me and hug me and to honor me as my own person. Her home was always open to me no matter what.

She was the oasis in my childhood years and through my teens. If I had understood that at the time I’m sure I would have said many prayers of gratitude to God for her presence in my life. I always found refuge and refreshment with her. But most of all I received an unconditional love that formed the basis of my survival and eventual “return to life” in later years. Thank you Aunty Polly.

Along the same lines:

OASES: Places of Rest

Margo — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 14:50:00 +0000

Before you start shouting “spelling”, let me explain. The word “oases” is the plural for the word “oasis”. And just what is an oasis you might ask. Well, the New Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines oasis as “a fertile or green area in an arid region”.

I’m sure you can all conjure up an illustration from some book you have read or a movie you have seen at some time in your past. A vast stretch of yellow desert seeming never to end, unfolding under the scorching midday sun. A straggling line of over-burdened camels plodding through the heat, ridden by dark-skinned men in their long robes and traditional keffiyeh (headdresses). I feel thirsty just thinking about it.

Then, suddenly, there is a splash of vivid green. A half a dozen palm trees and a small patch of luxurious green surrounding a natural waterhole appear on the horizon. There is refreshment, rest, and restoration; a small sanctuary in that land of never-ending parched sand.

The first thirty five years of my life were very arid in many places for long stretches of time, especially the period from age twenty to thirty five. However, as I look back over the years from today’s vantage point, I can see that there were many oases along the way that literally saved my life and refreshed and restored my soul, even though I did not recognize them for what they were at the time.

I am sure if you look back over your life you will be able to recognize similar oases that helped you through the tough times of your journey. Sometimes these oases present themselves as people, special angels that cross your path and help to lighten the load of the burdens you are carrying at that time. People who listen to you, offer you their broad shoulders to cry on, and encourage you to become the person God intended you to be.

In other moments these oases may be in the form of a special place. Somewhere that is full of peace which offers you comfort and solace. A place that allows you to retreat from the world and all its distractions and difficulties. A sanctuary that offers you the opportunity to regroup, to relax, to find solutions. A moment in time to come home to yourself, to grieve, to cry, and then to find the strength to carry on.

I am grateful for the oases that God placed on my path. Those places of peace and restfulness, those people who supported and restored me and offered me a haven of of safety in the midst of trouble, danger, or difficulty. In some measure they have all lead me to the place of joy that is my life today.

Along the same lines:

Musings: Commitment Now

Margo — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 21:34:46 +0000

I feel like a Mamma Bear in the middle of the great hibernation. I have no desire to stir out of my warm cave. I have no desire to get up, go out, do anything at all. I just want to stay curled up where it’s nice and warm and be cozy.

Much of the country may be under snow right now. Thank God Florida isn’t. But that still doesn’t change the fact that it is freezing cold – by Floridian standards. We have had heavier frost the last two nights than we have had all winter. I almost can’t believe I’m referring to winter, freezing temperatures, and Florida all in the same paragraph. But for whatever reason, we are experiencing a true winter season in the sunny south this year.

I could make it all about me and say that perhaps I need yet another lesson in gratitude; gratitude that we don’t get this kind of weather every year. Or perhaps I needed to learn once again not to take things for granted. Humility would be attached to that one. But, because it’s NOT all about me, I guess we’re just having an abnormally cold winter.

The reason this is such a big deal for me is because it affects my whole temperament. I plain don’t like the cold. It makes me grumpy and keeps me locked inside. Not that I don’t go out; I get my errands done and meet all my commitments. There’s just no joy to it, and if I can stay home, I do.

It’s most definitely put a crimp in my outdoors style. Haven’t been able to get outside to do much gardening, and the bad weather has affected the garden big time this year. On those odd few days that it has been warm enough to get out there, I have hacked away a lot of frost-burned plants and trees. Damage control has been the main name of the game.

The other major area that has been impacted is my writing. I really don’t like to sit in front of the computer for any length of time indoors. Even if it is cold outside that somehow doesn’t make it enjoyable to be writing indoors. So I have done very little writing and that is an irritation in and of itself. And what has frustrated me even more is that some days the sun has been shining, the sky is blue, and it has all the makings of a “come hither” look outside, but the thermometer has hovered in the low fifties:-(.

But this morning, four of my readings really got into my heart. Two were on the topic of “now"/the present moment”, and two were about “commitment” – my commitment to life and God, and God’s commitment to me. One of the “now” readings was headed by a quotation from Buddha:
”There is only one time when it is essential to awaken. That time is now.”

Only Buddha could have said that! The short reflections following the quotation said: “Even with our eyes open, we sometimes go through our days as if we were sleepwalking. these are the only days we have; we need to be aware of them.” (From the Daily Book Of Positive Quotations by Linda Picone.)

Both the quotation and the reflection really tugged at my heart, and I realized that even though it is good to have “down days”, days when I am not busy doing, it is probably not good to have too many of them in row. And that is what I have been doing in my great hibernation. I have enjoyed some great books, I have caught up on some Tivo, but I have also been “sleepwalking” through a lot of my days.

I have done a little writing but it’s been my “other writing”, the stuff I hope to turn into a book. But I have been thinking that there is no reason that I shouldn’t share some of that here in this forum. Each short chapter is a self-contained story unto itself and can stand alone. So keep your eyes open for articles under a new topic: Oases. See you on the pages!!

Along the same lines:

Musings: The Discomfort of Personal Growth

Margo — Sun, 31 Jan 2010 16:49:58 +0000

I actually started writing the following three paragraphs in the middle of the last posting that I wrote. However, I quickly realized that they did not belong there so, rather than delete them, I saved them as a draft. I figured that if the words had manifest themselves on the page they were important to come back to. Here are the three paragraphs as I wrote them.

As I have been sitting here, stopping from time time to just breath in deeply, I have been checking the news on my info page. I guess the biggest item that has rocked the world in different ways is still the news coming out of Haiti. I have followed this story, as I’m sure many millions of other people have, and have come to realize how difficult it is to take in the reality of such a situation.

No matter how many photos they print, and there have been hundreds, even though they depict the grim reality of the circumstances it is hard to make it a reality in my own life. Story after story carries an underlying sadness, pain, and desperation. It is heartbreaking to think of the level of suffering and helplessness that overwhelms the surviving Haitian population in the aftermath of the earthquake.

Yet even as I understand the meaning behind the words in these stories, and even as I can see clearly what is depicted in all the photos, there is a part of me that is unable to truly comprehend the magnitude of this tragedy. I went through something similar after the tsunami out in Thailand and Indonesia at Christmas a couple of years ago.

So now I will try to pick up the thread of my thought process a week after writing this. As I said, at the time I was sitting outside in my lanai on the first really warm day after much freezing cold weather had not allowed me to take my lap-top outside and work. I have just reread the three paragraphs and remember now sitting out there in the warmth and sunshine, catching up on world-wide news and feeling so strangely detached from the horrors taking place in Haiti.

I am not sure why this is so. I try to practice compassion in a very real way on a daily basis. I am a Christian person who “loves his neighbor”. I am also an intelligent person, so it’s not that I don’t have the brains or the smarts to grasp what is going on over there in Haiti. Neither am I afflicted by learning disabilities that slow my thought processes or skew them somehow.

I have read on numerous occasions that we, the human race, have been so saturated with violence in today’s world that events such as those taking place in Haiti don’t reach down into our hearts, our guts, or they only get halfway there. Modern media thinks nothing of throwing blood, gore, and downright evil at us in the name of “action movies” and the like, and as a result we become inured to the real life stuff.

As I said above, I see the pictures, I read the stories, the facts, but I have a hard time bringing it all into my own perception of reality. I’m not sure where I want to go with all this, or if I need to go anywhere in particular. Of one thing I am sure, the words presented themselves on the page out of my mind so they must have some specific significance.

I know that I do not feel very happy or comfortable about this posting. It has come out in fits and starts, between one interruption and another. Half way through I found myself thinking, “maybe I should just delete it and start a totally new posting”. But there is a part of me that knows the words need to stay on the page.

Perhaps the discomfort that I am feeling is because this article makes me look at a part of me that is not so nice. That part that wants me to just stay in my comfort zone and get on with my ordinary life. After all, don’t I deal with enough of my own pain without taking on the pain of others? But I know that I cannot do that. If I do, I will experience even more discomfort.

So the words stay, the article stands as is, and I battle on through the stuff that maybe I would prefer to ignore. I ask God to help me find the growth that this is leading me to. Hopefully there will be a quantum leap in my spiritual growth, in my prayer practice. Maybe a little more honesty, another small slice of humility, and just a smidgen more courage to keep me on track.

Along the same lines:

Self Nurturing: God’s Great Outdoors

Margo — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 19:19:56 +0000

Finally I get to sit outside in my lanai with my laptop and my Muse. The temperature out here today at almost 1.30pm registers seventy seven degrees Fahrenheit. It was already seventy one degrees at about 11am this morning:-). I was able to enjoy sitting out here in the warmth, with the birds singing and eating greedily from the feeders in the yard, the breeze sighing gently through the pine trees, and truly appreciate my quiet time.

That done, I prepared my breakfast and brought it out here. Because it is Sunday my husband is home with me, and he too made some breakfast and came out to join me in the lanai. It is such a simple thing, a husband and a wife sitting and quietly enjoying breakfast together in the open air, but it brings me much joy.

I am happy!! There is nothing I enjoy more than to be out in God’s creation, breathing in the fresh air and watching His creatures in their natural habitat. My head seems much clearer. Not sure what it is with artificially controlled air, whether it be winter heating or summer air conditioning, but I do not feel right in my head when I am forced to breath in that kind of air on a regular basis.

The sun has been shining on and off all morning. But even now, with gray clouds obscuring the sun, the underlying feeling is one of natural warmth and life. I can even smell the warmth in the air. Real oxygen energizes me in a way that nothing else does and the warmth makes my body feel alive, open, and at the same time, comforted. I could just sit outside and experience this all day, every day, and feel totally content. I guess I am a very simple person at heart.

Yesterday I added a new bird feeder to the garden. This morning it was swarming with birds. A short while ago my husband put up another hook and we added yet one more feeder. The little guys have yet to discover it, but I’m sure it won’t take them long. And as I watch them, a black butterfly with bright markings flutters outside the lanai screening as though trying to enter: good morning Mamma:-)

And in the meantime, Mokka cat is also enjoying the gift of this wonderful day. She is lounging luxuriously on top of the storage chest here in the lanai, basking in the sun’s warmth. Her tail is swishing slowly from side to side as she watches the bird activity outside the lanai. From time to time her nose or an ear twitches, and I am wondering what is going on in her cat brain.

There is nothing exotic or grandiose about all this, and that is the true beauty contained therein. I do not need riches or an extravagant lifestyle nor do I need to be surrounded by material wealth in order to feel rich. I just need a day like today and the undeniable gift of being able to enjoy it.

Along the same lines:

Musings: Open And Closed

Margo — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 14:00:00 +0000

We came to Florida in January 2004 and we have just experienced the longest freezing cold weather since arriving here. The thermometer on my sheltered back porch lanai registered thirty one degrees Fahrenheit at about 7.30am on several mornings. It did not get above fifty eight degrees Fahrenheit at any time during the day.

Half of the trees, bushes and plants in my garden have been badly frost burned. I am hoping that their roots have not been damaged and that there will be re-growth. Thankfully I had covered the precious small lemon tree that my son Marco had bought me on a visit a few years ago and also my queen palm with some old flannel sheets. However, it was not possible to cover everything in the garden.

But other damage was incurred that I did not really notice until the warm weather suddenly returned three days ago. Regular readers all know that I had griped about the cold and the fact that I had been unable to get out into the lanai with my lap-top to do my writing. I even referred to myself as being imprisoned by the wretched cold!

However, in my posting Musings- Prisoner of the Cold I explained how I had beaten the cold at its own game and managed to write an article. I felt very good about that and pleased that I had been able to “invite the Muse out to play”. Feeling the creative juices flowing is so satisfying to me. But there followed more days of nothing followed by a trip out of town for a few days.

Then I got up on Tuesday morning this week and noticed immediately the difference in the temperature inside the house. At the same time I noticed that the heating wasn’t running – Alleluia!! I almost ran to the back door to check out the thermometer. Holy mackerel – fifty nine degrees Fahrenheit at 8am!!! I turned off the house alarm and opened the lanai door; no blast of cold. I stepped outside and felt warm – in my jammies!! Oh joy!

I quickly prepared my juice and grains, gathered my meditation books from the kitchen, and headed outside. The birds were swooping over the fence and some were already at the feeder. Two squirrels were on the grass under the feeder happily munching on the spill-over. I stood and took in a deep breath as far down into the bottom of my lungs as I could get it to go. It was real fresh air and it was quite warm, thank you very much:-).

In that moment I suddenly felt “open”. My chest was expanded. My shoulders were thrown back. My face was lifted upwards. I raised my arms above my head as far as I could reach in a big stretch. I went up on my tippy-toes. I felt magnificently alive for the first time in about ten days. Even my heart felt happy.

In that moment it registered with me that I had been totally closed up during the period of freezing cold. I looked back and realized that I had been in a “hunched-up” position against the cold. My shoulders had been hunched forward. My arms had, for a lot of that time, been wrapped around me. And that was just when I was indoors!! When I went outside I was always bundled up in heavy clothing and huddled up against the cold.

All my energy had gone into dealing with the cold and I had been “closed”. I too had suffered a “frost burn” of my own! No wonder the creative juices had been unable to flow. I had been on physical and creative lock-down for about ten days; kind of under my own “old flannel sheets”. Please God the warmth will remain and I will get to play with the Muse on a daily basis.

Along the same lines:

Spiritual Growth: Friendship & Prayer

Margo — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 00:20:08 +0000

I am going to share a very intimate and personal story about a recent situation in my life. This story involves a friend who, for privacy reasons, I will choose to call “Pat”. I have known Pat for the six years since coming here to the States. In that short period of time she has faced some severe trials and tribulations.

The month before I arrived in Jacksonville, Pat lost of her then 8 year-old daughter. Three years later she was diagnosed with breast cancer and went through surgery, followed by chemotherapy and radiation during which she lost her hair but not her sense of humor nor her faith. Last December she was diagnosed with a brain tumor, has had surgery and now faces chemo and radiation – again. She still has her sense of humor and incredibly strong faith.

Ten days ago, after seeing Pat in church just a few days after her brain surgery, which was a miracle in and of itself, I received the following email from her:

“It was good to see you last night. I didn’t get the chance to talk to you after Mass and really it wasn’t the place, but I wanted to let you know how much you have been with me through this whole thing. When they told me about the tumor and having to get the PET scan to see about other possible places, I sort of let my imagination get away from me. It was really scary not knowing how involved the rest of my body might be with cancer. Of course, I started praying, but you were in my head also. You, to me, are such a spiritual, faithful, prayerful person with such a great understanding and insight to our faith. Yet, I know you have struggled with letting go of control of things. That is where I found myself before my scan, praying and still trying to control the outcome. Stupid. So there you are in my head trying to convince me to give it up. You got me to visualize a totally clear scan (neck down) have FAITH and TRUST. So during the scan that’s what I did. I prayed for it and you told me to trust God and let Him take care of me. In times of doubt and panic it calmed me to continuously turn it back over to God, let Him take it from me and TRUST He would, put my hands up and let go.

I feel so blessed that you came into my life when you did and are still here for me. You have planted so many seeds in people’s hearts and minds, I just wanted to let you know that something beautiful grew from one of those many, many seeds. Thank you and I love you!”

The following is my response to this email:

“It has taken me a while to get my emotions and my thoughts sorted out since receiving your email. After reading it I wept. It just touched my heart so deeply. And I went back to one of the reflection books that I had read that morning which quoted: ‘During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, He offered up prayers and petitions with loud cries and tears …..’ Hebrews 5:7. The reflection went on to say: ‘Praying is no light and trivial exercise. It engages all the powers of man’s moral and spiritual nature as is evident in the scripture verse above………. It takes only a moment’s thought to see how such praying drew mightily upon all the powers of God …….. This is the kind of praying that brings the soul close to God, and that brings God down to earth.’

These are the kinds of prayers that I have had to make recourse to in my “letting go struggles”. I live a very happy and joy-filled life in many ways and I am truly grateful for all the blessings that I have and continue to receive. However, I have never been brought to my knees as I have over my daughter. And, although it was for very different reasons in your case, I know that you too have been brought to your knees over your daughter – so you understand that kind of struggle.

The very next morning, in the same reflection book, I found this scripture, ‘I urge you, brothers, by our Lord Jesus Christ and by the love of the Spirit, to join me in my struggle by praying to God for me.’ Romans 15:30. And the reflection then went on to talk about the effort that Paul put into praying: ‘It is like a great battle. Like a soldier, the praying Christian fights a life-and-death battle. His honor and eternal life are all at stake. Everything depends on the strength he puts in it……… This kind of praying engages our undivided hearts, our full consent to be the Lord’s’. And I know that if I redouble my prayer effort I will benefit in the long run.

So then I read the next reflection book (I read 4 or 5 each morning), and here is what I found: ‘Your journey through life is often not easy, and you may experience times when you awaken to find yourself battered and bruised, lost and forsaken, lying helpless along the side of life’s road. Your resources gone and your strength spent, you may wonder if there is hope for you. Will anyone come along to help? God has promised that there is no circumstance from which He cannot rescue you. If you call out to Him, He will help you to your feet and provide comfort and support until your wounds heal and you are able to continue on your way. Though the circumstance that caused your fall may still be present, He has promised to walk with you, steadying your feet and filling you heart with hope until you reach your final destination.’

Pat, we are so blessed to have our faith, to have our loving God. We are also so blessed to have all the friends that make up our parish family who will add their prayers to ours in times of difficulty and struggle. And at that moment I was reminded of yet another reading that I had done the previous day which reminded me, ‘The grace of God sustains me in every moment……Whatever lies before me, I can be sure that God is in the midst of it…….. I trust the grace of God to guide me. I live calmly and confidently, and I walk my path in peace. I have absolute assurance that the grace of God is equally present in the lives of those I care about.’

And right there I found yet another degree of inner peace. Your email opened my heart and my eyes on another level and let me read deeply into these reflections and led me back to reread them and take them more fully into my heart and mind. I am always so humbled and so grateful that God loves me enough to send me messengers over and over again to remind me of His message of love. So let us both take heart in our “struggles” knowing that we have an awesome God. Thank you for being my messenger. You remain as always in my prayers.”

And so the circle ripples out, when friends support each other with prayers and love and compassion. One seemingly small act by one person is received as such a huge blessing by another which, when verbally acknowledged to the first person then becomes an even bigger blessing to them. And in my case, it opened me to further blessings as I went back over my spiritual reflections and took the lessons even deeper into my heart.

Along the same lines:

Musings: Prisoner of the Cold

Margo — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 01:19:18 +0000

The thermometer that is incorporated into the clock located on the wall in my lanai has not registered higher than 44 degrees Fahrenheit at about 7.30am for the past week. This morning it indicated 34 degrees Fahrenheit at 8.35am. It has not climbed above 58 degrees Fahrenheit in the past seven days at any time of the day!

The corner of the lanai where the clock is located is the most sheltered and the warmest spot in my garden. It is protected from wind chill and receives sun for the better part of the day. Now that the lanai has been built it is even more protected from the elements. And it is “bloody cold out there” as my true Brit self would say. And I know that it is even colder out in the open, more exposed garden.

I am not a happy camper. I feel like a prisoner to the cold. Today especially the sun was shining and it looked glorious outside. The sky was blue and everything was in clear and sharp focus – including the frost that sparkled like diamonds on the house immediately across the street from mine!!

I have waited patiently for the number to go higher. I have waited patiently not to feel the immediate chill when I slide open the lanai door. It feels just like standing in front of an open freezer door. I have waited patiently to be able to go out to my sanctuary, lap top in hand, to invite the Muse out to play.

I can wait no longer. So I have dragged a small table over and placed it right in front of the sliding door that looks into my lanai and I have set up the lap top so that I can at least see out into the garden via the lanai. It’s not quite the same; the fresh air, the usual Florida warmth, and the songs of the birds are missing. I don’t feel the usual joy in my heart, but it’s better than succumbing any longer to this sense of total imprisonment.

It’s not that I cannot or have not been outside the house this week. I am not a wimp and I do carry some memory in my bones of dealing with a cold English winter. In fact a few days ago I received an email from an old school chum who reminded me of the previous “worst English winter” that we all experienced as students returning to our various colleges and universities in January 1963.

The college that I attended, Coloma Teacher Training College, was set in a very rural area (read “out in the sticks”, or perhaps here in America you say “out in the boon docks”), south of London. It was located a couple of miles outside a very small village called West Wycombe. We were so isolated that the local villagers thought we were a college full of unwed mothers or mentally handicapped women. Being typical college students, we made sure our behaviour did nothing to change their minds. Many was the evening that, bolstered by a drink or two and with pillows stuffed under our coats, we would carousel through the village singing slightly “naughty” songs.

Other evenings would find us trudging down to the village store with the hoods of our duffel coats up over our heads. Like most female (and male) students in those days we all had long long hair and we would comb it forward over our faces. We limped along, one foot in the gutter, the other on the curb, muttering indecipherable words and stopping suddenly to peer through our hair at people we passed. We thought we were being very risque’ and very avant garde. (It was cool to think in French phrases in those days.)

But that winter was quite spectacular. I remember returning after the Christmas holidays, getting off the bus (I lived outside the college with a college-picked family), walking through the village and thinking how picturesque it all seemed with the flurries of snow swirling all around me. I walked out the other end of the village and turned the corner to cross the recreation fields that separated the village from the college.

I clearly remember stopping in my tracks, jaw dropped, and not sure quite what to think. It suddenly seemed as though I was at the North Pole as a vast expanse of pure white opened up in front of me. The falling snow was thick enough that I couldn’t see to the other side of the field. There was not another soul in sight.

I stood there for a few moments just taking in the whole God-beauty of the scene. I was well dressed for the weather and had on a pair of knee high boots. When I took my first step out into the field I sank into soft snow so deep it came over, and into, the top of my boots. I think I took maybe three or four more steps before I realized this was not a very wise thing to do, and jumped back quickly onto the pavement, all the time aware of the icy cold that was surrounding my feet.

I tramped back a hundred yards to a small cafe and sat down to empty out the snow from my boots. My feet were soaking and freezing cold. I looked up at the woman who owned the cafe and to whom we had been very risque and avant garde on several occasions. I guess she overlooked my past transgressions and took pity on me because she handed me a dry tea towel.

These were not the days of cell phones. She allowed me to use the telephone in the cafe to call the college, and I found out that they had not been able to telephone all the out-students in time to warn them not to attempt to come into college. Grimly I made my way home with very cold feet.

The snow lasted well into March that year. We were all sick and tired of it by the time the last little mounds had disappeared from the sides of the road. I spoke to my sister in London two days ago and she too remembered that winter. She confirmed that the snow at the moment is very reminiscent of back then. Let’s hope for their sake that it doesn’t last so long.

Well, I have beaten the cold and done my writing. The Muse was fairly happy at playing indoors because she could at least see the outdoors. But I will be much happier when the temperatures rise a little and I don’t feel so hunched up in my body and my soul. Warmth has a liberating effect in both areas.

Along the same lines:

Musings: Giving Joy To My Inner Child

Margo — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 13:00:00 +0000

I am not in the least bit embarrassed to admit that I acknowledge my inner child and frequently allow her to come out and play!! I love blowing bubbles and reading fairy stories. I often watch the movies The Secret Garden, The Chronicles of Narnia, Fairy Tale – A True Story, and The Magical Legend of the Leprechauns.

When I watched the first Harry Potter movie I fell in love with the scene where the character Hagrid takes Harry to buy his first magic supplies. As they walked through that brick wall into Diagon Alley, I SO wanted to be able to go there, or at least someplace like it. I want to own a bag of fairy dust, and it takes all my willpower not to get in line to go into Santa land in the Mall at Christmas:-).

So last night as we prepared to say goodbye to 2009 I found myself with my husband in St. Augustine, Florida. To be more precise we were on Anastasia Island. (Just the name Anastasia gets me tingling with excitement as I remember the Disney movie of that name. Uh-ho, did I mention Disney……….!!) I walked with childlike anticipation to the pier where they were holding a New Year event.

Christmas lights lit up the whole area and I had to push my hands deep in my pockets because I so wanted to clap in delight and do pirouettes. There were lots of food stalls, but there were also various stalls that sold all those magical flashing light things that kids so love. I desperately wanted a pair of pink and violet flashing bunny ears and at least two or three of those tubular necklaces with the running flashing lights inside them!

I managed to contain myself by watching all the kids have fun with their “stuff” and living my childlike dreams vicariously through them. After walking around some, Rich and I went over to the boardwalk and staked out our spot for the firework display. As if to add to the magic of the evening a “blue moon” tried hard to show itself from behind a dense cloud cover.

As 8.30pm rolled around I could feel the butterflies in my stomach just dancing all over the place. Suddenly the big lights were dimmed and almost immediately with a flash and a bang the show began. Nothing and no one stopped me from clapping in delight now. The sky lit up with golden rain, purple, pink, and green flashes, rockets racing high up into the sky and exploding into huge, bright orbs of multi colors.

I know my eyes were wide, my mouth was open. I was caught up in the sheer magic of the moment. It was as though the hand of some gigantic goddess was splashing glittering paint across the sky and I was mesmerized! In some day-bright moments the sea could be seen roiling on the rocks below us, and we heard the sizzling of the foam as the waves crashed over each other creating an orchestrated accompaniment to the dazzling show above.

All too soon it was over. The sky turned dark once more and the sea was just a murky movement below us. The crowds dispersed and all that was left of the glorious light display was the acrid smell of sulfur that hung in the air. But my little girl went home very, very happy. And if I want to relive the moment I can always watch the great video that Richard made of the whole show!

Along the same lines: