Tag Archive | Gratitude

Moth Orchids: Broken Relationships Bloom Again

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My windowsill is filled with orchids. The challenge is getting them to bloom. In February I watch for the first signs, small green stubs that grow into willowy stalks with nodding lanterns that will unfold into the aptly named moth orchids.

I’m not organized enough to have proper labels on the pots and in late winter I wait for the buds to reveal the secret of their colors. Green velvet speckled with carmine, purple merlots, yellow-throated white ermine. All are eagerly anticipated.

But then a stalk was broken. The buds had barely unfurled. Someone had carelessly brushed it aside. I hadn’t noticed the stem hanging by a thread and I debated–should I snip it off or leave it dangling?  In either case the buds were withering. The next day I clipped it off, put it in a vase, and threw it away a few days later.

Our relationships can be broken. We can be careless and may not notice the brokenness until the relationship withers. The relationship is discarded.

Not too long ago, I received a call from someone I hadn’t heard from in many years. Our relationship had ended on a sour note a decade before. She had taken a chance in calling me and I took a chance in meeting her for coffee. We talked about our families, our art work, what new paths we were taking. A fresh start.

What opportunities come my way to rekindle a relationship?

How do I take a risk and begin anew?

Am I missing opportunities to reconnect?

Several months later when the orchids are dormant, a new shoot appears. The damaged orchid flowers prolifically, with perfect flowers of Naples yellow dancing on the window ledge.

When nurtured, broken relationships can bloom again.

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Simple Gifts

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It had been a challenging week. An in-box boiling over with hundreds of messages. Frustrating meetings followed by meetings about the frustrating meetings. Everyone was rushing to tie up all of the loose ends before the holiday break and the the internal alarm clock rang–time to close the office a few hours early so that everyone could step back and unwind for Easter.

As I stepped off of the elevator after lunch to pick up a few things I was still multi-tasking, juggling loose papers from the car, an open purse, a trailing shawl and a ringing cell phone. It was my friend, Elizabeth. I was struggling down the dimly lit corridor toward the office while answering the phone, when I saw someone standing at the end of the hall outside the office–it was Elizabeth calling to see where everyone was.

She had taken time from her busy day to stop by the office with a gift, a beautiful basket of yarn that she had purchased at a fundraising event in Minneapolis. The rich garnet and woodsy teal mohair skeins were a soft nest for carefree turquoise cotton. And in the middle of all of it, sleek number ten wooden needles with a rainbow grain. I was already thinking of the relaxing knitting that was ahead.

My gratitude was not only for the simple gift, but for the joy of being remembered by a good friend.

  • How can I be a gift to my friends?
  • Can I take time to make a small gesture that can turn around a day for someone who is juggling work and family responsibilities?
  • What really matters in the long run?

A simple gift.

I thought the day could not be better until I sorted through the mail at home. Amidst the fliers for gutter repair and the electric bill I found a colorful card from my friend, Pat, and a small packet of Mexican sunflower seeds. We had each grown them the previous year in our gardens and she had taken time to track down the seeds and send those to me.

A simple gift that brought back memories of swallowtail butterflies and the promise of lazy summer days. No multi-tasking allowed.

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Blessed

The Bellerive bees in winter

The Bellerive bees in winter

Midwest winters can be hard. The last bit of green obliterated by the snow. The beauty of snow riddled with soot deteriorating into slush. Fierce nights. As I glance out window as temperatures hover around zero I see the bee hives buried in snow. All during the fall I had chastised myself for not getting around to taking the honey from the hives and now I hope that might be a saving grace.

The weather mirrors my life as I find myself in the role of caregiver while a family member recovers from surgery. Even though I know this will pass, patience is increasingly in short supply. Daylight is limited, but it is time to take a moment to see.

Sometimes I need only stand wherever I am to be blessed.
Mary Oliver

  • A handwritten letter arrives, bringing me back to an afternoon spent sitting with a nun in San Antonio who has generously become my friend even tough her days are precious, whisps of words carrying her strong spirit.
  • A blue heron flies over a lake at my friend’s new country house.
  • My daughters call, one during the day to invite me to a spontaneous lunch; the other near midnight just because she knows I miss her so.
  • Sadie gives me a sleepy Labrador wag from the sofa.  I dig my fingers into her rough coat and tell her the story of the first dog who comes to the first fire.
  • I pick up my knitting.

    Sometimes I need only stand wherever I am to be blessed.

    The next day the weather breaks and temperatures skyrocket to the 50s. And the Bellerive bees miraculously appear flying in and out of the hive.

    The Lake, Pat Thibodeau

    The Lake, Pat Thibodeau

    The Cloud Appreciation Society: Just Breathe

    Clouds over the Tractor Road , Ashley, Illinois

    Clouds over the Tractor Road , Ashley, Illinois

    Not too long ago, a link popped up on my facebook page. Underneath a blue sky and cumulus clouds were the words “Cloud Appreciation Society.” It sounded like something whimsical out of a children’s book. Without hesitation I “liked” their page.

    Now every few days I receive a photo of a cloud formation. Stratocumulus, altostratus, and anvil tops. Prior to that my experience had been limited to clouds of the nimbus, cumulus or cirrus variety. The Cloud Appreciation Society takes clouds seriously.

    But beyond the cloud classifications, I began looking at the clouds in my own skies. Cloud billows high above the oak pillars of Tower Grove Park in the morning. Cloud wisps drifting past my office window. Receding clouds at sunset, reflecting the opalescent pinks and lavenders of the innermost whorls of sea shells shot through with fiery reds and exploding nova yellows. Cradle clouds cushioning a full moon.

    Each a unique moment. Impossible to capture. Life-giving.

    As the sun set while I was driving home from Nashville I watched the clouds changing. The beauty of each moment was such a distraction I took the exit for a town called Ashley and pulled off onto a tractor road to just breathe and savor a unique purply sunset, and then continued upon my way, glad to be a part of the Cloud Appreciation Society.

    Receding Clouds over the Tractor Road, Ashley, illinois

    Receding Clouds over the Tractor Road, Ashley, illinois

     

    What’s Important Is How We Do It

    Surprise Lilies in the Parkway

    While I was walking this morning, I was reflecting on a quotation from the woman who founded the School Sisters of Notre Dame.

    With God, what we do is less important than how we do it.
    Blessed Theresa of Jesus Gerhardinger, SSND

    She said those words a century ago, but they speak to my heart today.

    At the Incarnate Word Foundation I see many agencies working to serve those in need. Those of us in the funding world pressure them to show measurable outcomes. We want to know that they are effective in delivering services, that they measure their progress toward goals in quantifiable ways, that they are efficient in their use of resources. In response, agency leaders develop elaborate logic models and hire consultants to create service delivery systems.

    And while good stewardship is necessary and important, the danger in that is an over-emphasis on what is being done rather than how it is being done.

    Are we grounding what we do in compassion, love and respect?

    Are we taking time to listen with our heart?

    Are we walking with them on their journey?

    Do we sit and hold a woman’s hand?

    Do we see the spark of the Divine in each person?

    So often we focus on getting things done, on accomplishments and outcomes. While we may reach every benchmark, we can lose the love and humanity that should be present whenever we are with others.

    Because with God, what we do is less important than how we do it.

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    The Red Barn

    The red barn, Winfield, MO

    The red barn, Winfield, MO

    A few weeks ago I went with Michael to pick up a package of bees near Winfield. One of my hives had died out after an unexpected snowstorm in March. They were my favorite hive–Carniolan bees, gentler than the Minnesota hygienic Italian bees I usually raise. It was a dreary day with heavy skies and the fields were newly planted with little growth amid the standing water on the Missouri River flood plains.

    I was not in the best frame of mind and wished I could have put the whole trip off but the bees could only stay in their temporary package so long before they would die off. As we rounded the bend, I saw it–a weathered red barn in a field of yellow wildflowers. How could I give in to the gloomy day with this reminder that the world was a good and beautiful place?

    A few weeks later I was on the radio talking about a new youth summer jobs program the foundation had initiated. These programs are common in other large cities but there was currently no organized widespread effort in our community.

    It had been a long haul. We had had some success and two hundred young people would have jobs. Donors had come forward from the business and philanthropic sectors and we had garnered support from the local government as well.

    It had not, however, been easy. The foundation’s motivation was grounded in social justice. The rationale for business’s support related to workforce development and economic growth. The governmental involvement meant balancing political realities. Fundamentally, everyone wanted the project to succeed, but the behind-the-scenes work to develop the actual program, create realistic expectations and manage relationships took an inordinate amount of time and energy. Being on the radio was a piece of cake compared to all of that. I was tired.

    After the radio show a friend texted me and said she had heard the radio program and it was great. And then a colleague sent me an e-mail in which she acknowledged that it must have been tough navigating all of the relationships to bring the program to fruition but that it was worth it; she thanked me.

    A red barn in a field of yellow flowers.

    The Gratitude Basket: Centering through Appreciation

    Zambian basket A black and tawny yellow Zambian basket sits on my desk corner behind a stack of files. At first glance it appears to be a catchall filled with notecards, clippings and photos, its strong geometrical designs completely hidden. Sometimes I toss something else in the basket but there are weeks or even a month or two when it is untouched. Every so often I take the time to sort through the basket.

    I read a note from my late mentor, Sr. Mary Ann, telling me in her precise Catholic school handwriting about how she enjoyed the care package I sent to her when she lived in Italy. Peanut butter is in short supply in Rome. There’s a newspaper clipping of my daughter, Carolyn, playing her harp at some long ago Christmas program at the Arch and a lovely card from Amelia for Mother’s Day last year. A post card I received more than a decade ago from my best friend with a cartoon about spending time gardening rather than laboring at your desk.

    I smile at a photo from Chiapas, Mexico and remember the time I spent with the Chol Indians and several of the Incarnate Word sisters at their organic coffee plantation high in the rainforest. The first time I saw bowls of black beans for breakfast I thought they were serving us coffee beans. A handmade note from an agency director who works to alleviate domestic violence catches my eye and I appreciate all that she does to make the world a better place. She moved to Texas a few years ago and I take a moment to send good thoughts her way.

    The papers, photos and cards left randomly in a straw basket serve a purpose. The basket centers me. I reflect on what I have been given by these extraordinary people and on the opportunities I have had to give to them in return.