It’s been a sh*tty summer, y’all. I had to put my dog down, we had a pretty big health scare with my mom (she’s OK, thank God), and two good friends died. I’ve already written about the big picture of how I cope with death and the fear of it, but here’s one way I’m getting through on the daily.
I’ve been having my quiet time (reading my bible and talking to God) outside on the deck so I can enjoy the cool part of the morning and listen to my water feature. I’ve been having my breakfast out there, too, and here are all the things I noticed and was grateful for this morning:
- The beautiful music of the water feature and my sister for helping me rebuild it.
- The resources and time to make the pumpkin seed butter and spelt sourdough I ate for breakfast (I’m experimenting with low FODMAP foods–I’ll let you know how it goes).
- The hormone replacement therapy that’s finally kicking in and helping me feel well enough to actually bake and clean and live my life again.
- The hard work of the Amish folks who grew the strawberries and made the delicious jam I brought back from Michigan with me.
- All the great tea salons in Chinatown that still carry on the tradition of educating folks about orthodox Chinese teas, and the fabulous Da Hong Pao oolong in my cup, from Vital Tea Leaf.
- My best friend, Malena, for helping me get most of my new Sayonara china, which I love.
- The previous owners of my house, Cynthia and Bill, who terraced my back yard and planted all these wonderful fruit and shade trees so it’s like I’m having breakfast in a treehouse every morning.
- My friends Jason and Jen for buying me a new patio table and chairs when my ex-husband took the ones we had in the divorce.
- The firefighters who are working hard to put out the fires north of town right now, saving people’s homes and keeping the smoke from making us sick.
- The rain and cool weather God has sent the last few days to help them.
I could go on and on, in expanding ripples of gratitude, but here’s the point I’m trying to make: it matters that people are out there pouring all of that energy and goodness into me and the world. It gives me the strength, literally and spiritually, to continue doing life even when it seems undoable. It’s like that old, stupid story about the guys walking down the beach littered with hundreds of stranded starfish after a storm, and one of the guys picks up a starfish and chucks it back into the water, and the other guy laughs and says, “You can’t save them all, so what does it matter?” And the first guy shrugs and says, “It matters to that one.” To me, too: I’m grateful to God and all the people who love me enough–or just love what they do enough–to pick me up and throw me back in the water every day. It matters.
The Rookery 