Four Quotes to Live By

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I heard the following quote somewhere along my way and wrote it down on a scratch piece of paper I found while cleaning off my desk recently. The source is not clear, but it is attributed to John Lennon, Paulo Coelho, an old Indian proverb, and the movie The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. I recall that it was the movie where I heard it and wrote it down. I think about this when things aren’t going my way. It is:

“Everything will be okay in the end, and if it’s not okay – it’s not the end.”

Another quote that I try to live by is this one, coined by me in a moment of clarity while talking about the uncertainties in my life:

“Relax, and let life happen.”

And the third one – one I wrote a story about in my recently published book, Sunshine Leads the Way, is:

“There is no normal life, Wyatt. There’s just life.”

This was spoken by Doc Holliday as he lay dying, to Wyatt Earp in the movie, Tombstone.

As I begin the last week of a job I have had and loved for almost two years, these three quotes keep rattling around in my head. Leaving was not my decision, but that of the institution of higher education where I am employed. Higher ups decided that a part-time librarian was no longer needed, that a degree in library science was not necessary for the position. My job ends, and a newly restructured position will be announced soon. What it will be is still unknown.

This brings me to another quote that my friend, George, uttered – his own words – a few weeks ago as we were walking up the hill to his home after putting his chickens in their pen for the night. We were talking about our families, growing old, and slowing down in our lives. He said, wearily, “Sometimes I feel unnecessary.” I assured him that, indeed, he was necessary, and needed in many, many ways by lots of people and animals, but his statement resonated with me and lodged in my heart as I thought the same words and applied them to myself.

How can I weave these four quotes into the fabric of my life as I face a new path and the uncertainty of an income to supplement my retirement funds? Sometimes things just aren’t okay, and life is far from what I believe to be normal. My sons are grown and living independently on the west coast, across the continent from me. I have no grandchildren to dote on. Like George, I sometimes feel unnecessary. I keep telling myself to relax and let life happen. Everything will be okay.

But it isn’t that simple. Life changes. What looks like it might be the end turns out to be the beginning of something new. But what will it be? It’s scary, not knowing.

I need to take a few deep breaths, be patient, let life happen, and wait for the “okay” in my life to reappear. I’ll not search for “normal” in my life. I will embrace the changes in my life, and discover places where I am necessary.

As I look towards the future after this week ends, I think about my writing.

Will I have more time to write? Is there a chance that I may be able to supplement my income through my writing? Since I self-publish, is it at all possible that someone of importance may stumble across some of my writing, find value in it, and want to take a chance on me? Who knows? This could be a pipe dream of mine, something that will never happen.

But then again, it might.

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I Told Myself….

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I am watching my sales report on createspace.com, the platform I use for publishing my books. I told myself I wasn’t going to do this.

I also told myself that if only one person reads my new book, “Sunshine Leads the Way,” and is touched by something in it, I would be satisfied. This has happened. I have received a wonderful review by a reader. I am happy.

In addition, I told myself I wasn’t going to get greedy, and that I don’t expect my little book to become a best-seller. This is still true, but as people read my book and share their satisfaction and enjoyment from it, I mentally pose the question, “Why not?” Then I pull myself back down to earth and remind myself the reason I write and publish. It isn’t for the money (although it would be nice to have a supplemental income to help me with my living expenses!), but for the joy of writing and for the hope that by sharing my life experiences, I may help someone else with theirs. By sharing my extraordinary days, I might light the way for someone else to take notice of theirs.

Collecting days is something I’ve done all my life, and I want to make this activity one that might catch on with people everywhere. We so often go through the daily routine of living that we miss the wonder and adventure that the most ordinary of days can bring. I try my best each day to find something worth remembering, worth researching, worth photographing, worth writing about. Yesterday, it was seeing a fairy ring of mushrooms in a neighbor’s yard and finding out what a hashtag is all about. One day last week, it was an unusual cloud formation drifting across the sky. Friday, it was a baby goat bouncing on and off of me in delight – a baby goat, who before that day, had been skittish and afraid of me. On Saturday, it was sitting in my living room with four fantastic young women surrounding me, enjoying an afternoon of friendship and love together. I have claimed these strong and unique women as “my girls”, and we were celebrating a job change and new beginning for one of them.

It isn’t so much about writing in a journal or carrying my camera or phone around with me all the time. It is all about being observant, grateful, curious, and loving. It is also about holding each day in my heart, caressing the present moment with a prayer of thanksgiving, and understanding that with each minute that passes a memory is born.

I invite my readers and followers to order a copy of my book and read it. If you like it, a nice review on amazon.com would be appreciated. But more than anything, my desire is that by reading it, your life may be changed, just a bit, and that you may realize that you, too, are a collector of days.

https://www.amazon.com/Sunshine-Leads-Way-other-stories/dp/154468438X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1498570616&sr=1-1&keywords=sunshine+leads+the+way

 

Help Me Make It Through the Night

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The telephone awakened me from a sound sleep. My bedside clock showed that it was a few minutes past 1:00am. Caller ID on my phone informed me that the caller was my friend, Bill. What could he want to talk about at this hour of the night. We had talked earlier in the evening for almost an hour.

Bill apologized for waking me up. The sound of his voice told me that something was wrong. I couldn’t get him to share with me what was on his mind, or why he called me at this ungodly hour, even though I asked him more than once what was the matter. Rather than quiz him further or demand an explanation, which it was obvious I wasn’t going to get, I simply asked him, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Talk to me, “ he replied. “Please help me make it through the night.”

Only a couple of days earlier we had been talking on the phone about our favorite song writers, and Kris Kristofferson came up in the conversation, where we had agreed that we both liked his music, and this song in particular.

“Talk to me,” he repeated.

“Would you like for me to tell you a story?” I asked.

“Yes, please.”

Drawing from my writing and my collection of days, I began telling him about a game my sister and I played as children, Runaway Orphans. Since Bill and I both grew up in the same town, he was familiar with the places my sister and I visited when we played this special game. I embellished the story and added drama to it in an attempt to entertain Bill with its telling and perhaps help him get whatever was troubling him off of his mind.

When I finished, he said to me, “Tell me another one.”

I then went into the story about the day I ran away from home when I was five years old.

“Another one?”

I dug deeper into my childhood, recalling our family tradition of making homemade peach ice cream on the Fourth of July every year and about my job of sitting on top of the churn while Daddy turned the crank. From there, I went into the story about my special brother, Johnny, and a story about my daddy’s pocket watch. As I finished this story, I realized I had been talking for well over two hours, and that it was very quiet on the other end of the line.

“Are you still there? Are you feeling any better now?” I asked.

Bill’s voice, barely above a whisper, answered, “Yes, I think I am.”

“Do you want me to tell you any more stories?”

“No, I think I’ll be ok now. Thank you.” And he hung up, leaving me wondering what had just happened. It was now 4:30am.

Bill never told me why he needed me that night. The next evening when we talked, I commented, “Well, we made it through the night last night, didn’t we?”

“Yes, “ he said. “And it was no small feat. I’ll forever be grateful to you for staying on the phone with me all night long.”

I never learned what was troubling Bill that night. Over the course of our three-year friendship, I discovered that he had his own demons he was battling, and little by little, one by one, he shared a few of them with me. He also recalled tidbits of his history and life as a journalist – he truly had the gift of the story teller, and could have me laughing uncontrollably or sympathizing with tears running down my face as he’d relate a tale from his past.

Bill also encouraged me as a writer. He never completely understood my style of writing – I am not a journalist or reporter, but a weaver of tales and a painter using words instead of paint of my memories and adventures through life. He would sometimes tell me that I needed to step away and be more objective in my writing, that I put too much of myself into it. I’d politely disagree with him, and he’d keep on complimenting me on my writing, even though I didn’t take this piece of advice. He said on many occasions that I was a better writer than he was. That wasn’t true. He was a gifted writer, a diligent researcher, and an extraordinary communicator through the written word. I could never do what he did.

One thing that Bill told me often was that he didn’t believe he would live to be an old man. He once said that he didn’t think he would live to see 70. And he was right. I guess he somehow knew his limits and sensed his life span. When a classmate of ours died recently, he told me he thought he might be next. I wish he had been wrong.

Bill was my friend. My heart is aching as I write tonight. I’ll miss hearing his voice, listening to him telling me about his latest writing assignment, and being the recipient of his praise and admiration of me and my writing.

I wish I could have had the chance to say goodbye.

“I don’t care what’s right or wrong,

I don’t try to understand.

Let the devil take tomorrow.

Lord, tonight I need a friend.

Yesterday is dead and gone, and tomorrow’s out of sight.

And it’s sad to be alone.

Help me make it through the night.”

“Help Me Make It Through the Night” by Kris Kristofferson

Goodbye 2016. Hello New Year.

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The New Year has a way of haunting me as January 1 draws nearer. I know it’s just another day, but for me it’s a time of looking back, taking stock of where I am right now, and gazing ahead for perhaps a glimpse of what is in store for me in the coming year.

The past few nights I have been awakened by dreams reminding me of my past and filling me with a mixture of regrets, feelings of accomplishments, and memories of pure joy, deep sadness, and even loss – all jumbled together in a sleep-depriving slide show of my history. As I contemplated all that is part of who I am, I reached out to God in gratitude for delivering me from evil, for walking beside me during trying times, for teaching me about what real love is all about, and for giving me my life.

And now, today, on New Year’s Eve, I turn the final page of 2016, the pages filled to overflowing with my words, thoughts, prayers, and wishes. I close the book, but I don’t seal it. I can always return to this year in my memories, and be reminded of this great and wonderful gift called life and of the year of 2016. A new book awaits me, its pages blank and ready to receive whatever each day decides to grant me.

Last year I wrote a list of things to NOT DO in the New Year. I didn’t accomplish my goals entirely, but I can report proudly that I have not put on a sports bra backwards in 2016. (See my blog from last year to read my list: https://jennielousdays.wordpress.com/2016/02/01/my-to-dont-do-list/ ). But I also have to admit that I fell off the chocolate wagon over the Christmas holidays, and I enjoyed far too much candy and cookies. The New Year is a good time to re-group, get back into good habits, and take a bold step forward.

2016 is waving goodbye as she approaches the door into years past. She is taking with her tender memories of dear friends I have had to say farewell to this year, of great personal accomplishments that at times seemed daunting and unattainable, of prayers for healing and those answered prayers, of fears over the fate of our nation during the most disturbing political race I’ve ever experienced, and a plethora of moments and days that brought tears to my eyes merely from the pure joy of being alive and acknowledging my small place in this remarkable universe.

As she moves closer to that door, 2016 pauses to glance back at me and with thumbs up and a broad smile, she wishes me Godspeed into 2017.

I pull out my book with blank pages, and I am ready to write!

I’ve Been Busy!

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The other day at work, one of my co-workers asked me, “Have you been writing much lately?”

I had to confess, “No, I’ve been too busy. Although I have been writing in my journal. But that’s about it.”

So, what has been keeping me too busy to sit down to write on the two projects I have underway – 1)sending out queries on the non-fiction book I completed last spring; and 2) wrapping my brain around the beginnings of a new novel which has found its beginnings on paper, but is mostly swimming around in my head?

To begin with, summer happened. And with summer came gardens, making marinara sauce from my fresh tomatoes to store for the winter and fresh pesto from my basil, reunions, hot, hot, hot weather where the only refreshing place to spend an afternoon was in the swimming pool, and one other thing.

And what is that one thing that has kept me too busy to write, other than pouring my heart out in my journal on a nightly basis?

It all started so innocently. I live in a small apartment in an old house that has been converted into three apartments. This summer, the walls began closing in on me. My throat was itchy for no reason that I could account for whenever I was home for any length of time, my two house-mate neighbors moved out, leaving me wondering who would be moving into the two apartments, and I began feeling like the need for a change was in the air. I started checking the rental websites for my area of Georgia, only to find that rental houses were far too expensive for me to afford, and most of the apartments in this area either don’t allow pets or had no vacancies.

I began thinking that maybe I should look into buying a house. I prayed to God to light this path if it was the one I should take. I followed up by asking a real estate agent friend if she would like to carry my lantern on this uncharted path upon which I was embarking. And with this, we began looking at small houses as they became available in my town.

As we searched, and doors were opened and then closed, my journal was the welcome recipient of my fears and anxieties, as well as my excitement over the possibilities of purchasing a house. One day, my agent/friend showed me a small home that I loved, but the asking price was well over my maximum limit of how much I could afford. “It’s negotiable,” she reassured me, and after a few sleepless nights, some really crazy dreams when I did sleep, and a lot of prayer, I made an offer.

Long story short, I now have a contract on a pretty little ranch about three miles from where I now live. I am excited and terrified at the same time. Who’d have ever thought that I would be in the position of being able to buy a house – all on my own?

But then, I go back to four years ago. I was looking at this little apartment that I am now getting ready to leave, knowing that I couldn’t afford it. There was no way my monthly pay check was going to cover my expenses! I was excited and terrified, but I knew in my heart that this was what I needed and where I needed to be. And somehow, some way, I paid my rent every month, kept up with my monthly expenses, and was even able to save a little money here and there along my way.

So, here I am. I’ve been busy – busy finding a house that fits into my price range, busy doing the math trying to make it work, busy worrying and fretting over all things unknown, busy praying that God would light the path for me, and busy jumping through all the hoops required for purchasing a home.

If all goes as planned, closing on my new home will be September 30, and I will move in the first of October. A new chapter in my life is beginning, one as exciting as any I’ve had in my lifetime. God has provided a light for my path, which leads to the front door of my new home.

Indeed. I’ve been busy.

My To-Don’t-Do List

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I’m a little late with New Year’s resolutions, of which I swore off of years ago. Instead I have decided to do something a little different this year. I am making a To-Don’t-Do list. This list doesn’t represent things in my past I wish I had done differently, of which there are plenty! My list consists of things I want to remind myself not to do.

  1. Don’t let hurts from the past keep replaying in your brain. Let them go, Jennie!
  1. Don’t make excuses for your daily walk, especially in the winter – you won’t melt in the rain or freeze to death in the cold. You have warm jackets, hats, and gloves, and a good raincoat and umbrella.
  1. Don’t neglect to thank God every morning for the brand new day and every night for everything! Remember the lessons you’ve learned about gratitude and grace.
  1. Don’t eat too much chocolate, and don’t reach for the Reese’s Peanut Butter cups in the grocery store. You don’t need them!
  1. Don’t neglect praying for your sons every day, several times a day.
  1. Don’t forget to play “toss the toy” with Sunshine when you come home from work in the evenings, even if it late. She misses you when you are gone.
  1. Don’t let housework get in the way of going outdoors to do something fun. You live alone – it can wait!
  1. Don’t procrastinate on sending someone a note, phoning a friend, or sending a friendly email when you get a mental nudge to get in touch. It could be an angel delivering a message for you to act upon.
  1. Don’t frown. Or even look solemn. People like to see your smile.
  1. Don’t forget to sing, at least once a day. You don’t have to do it in public. In the car is good. Also remember that you share a bathroom wall with your neighbor next door. Don’t sing in the shower!
  1. Don’t pick the last flower. Leave at least one for someone else to enjoy.
  1. Don’t walk when you can skip.
  1. Don’t overeat. You know you feel better when you aren’t stuffed.
  1. Don’t wish your life away. Remember to live in the present, prepare for the future, but don’t obsess over what might, or might not, happen.
  1. Don’t beat yourself up over past mistakes and failures. Focus, rather, on the lessons you’ve learned, the grace gifts you’ve received, and the person you are becoming.
  1. Don’t forget those lessons you learned! And don’t make the same mistakes again!
  1. Don’t worry about your looks. You are 67 years old. You’re not supposed to look like a spring chicken. Don’t fret over what time is doing to your body. Remember that it is your vehicle for getting around in this world. Focus on staying healthy and in good working condition. Again, think about gratitude!
  1. Don’t put your sports bra on backwards again. It is much more comfortable when worn the correct way.
  1. When picking berries, fruit, or vegetables, don’t stand on an anthill. This is another lesson learned that you know you don’t want to repeat – ever!
  1. And finally, don’t ever stop writing. You know you are more grounded and centered when you write. Even when you don’t feel like it, you usually have something that you can say. And maybe, just maybe, some of your words may reach someone to help them along their way. Who knows?

As I Bid Farewell to 2015 (and also 2014)

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My collection of days for 2015 is at an end. My journal book that I began in January of 2014 is full. I have three pages left in it, which I will fill up before 2016 begins. A new journal book waits quietly on my bedside table, full of empty pages, ready for my words to embrace it. A new year beckons.

Over the past two nights, I have gone back and read my journal of the past two years. Interesting! Oh, the journey I have been on! I can now see the road map clearly as I read what was not in focus at the time of my writing. I re-live the smooth paths as well as the rocky ones, the sunny days and the stormy ones, and feel the scrapes on my knees as I recall my falls and miss-steps. I hear the laughter in my voice over joyous days, and the gut-wrenching sobs over days that brought anger, fear, loneliness, and confusion to my life.

What is eye opening to me as I recall the days of the past two years are the changes in me and the growth that has taken place. When I began the journal, I was at the end of a 20-year marriage that had left me reeling from personal tragedy and loss, unsure of who I was or what my purpose in life was. I was testing the waters on a new relationship, one just as toxic and dangerous as the one I had just been freed from. I didn’t see it as 2014 began, but as those first journal pages turned, I saw myself quickly realizing the darkness bearing down on me, and ending the relationship within the first month of the year. It was tough and venomous-appearing, but deep in my heart, I knew it was what I had to do. It was at that moment in January of 2014 that the little girl who once had stomped her foot and declared to her mother, “I can do it myself,” returned and took control of her life.

As 2014 and 2015 unfolded in my journal book, I saw threads of growth and transition within myself. Frustrations repeated themselves over and over, as I maneuvered my way through my days, figuring out the best way to travel through them. Joy returned to my heart, in many different forms; I let go of the old and embraced the new. I saw patterns of growth, spiritual and mental, as I read my own words from the days of these two years. Indecision and confusion led to answers and revelations. I could actually see myself “becoming” – change was written on almost every page. These two years have been pivotal. I grew up. I accepted myself for who I am and where I’ve been- scars and all. I discovered and owned up to myself as a flawed, bruised, and damaged person, but also as a flower opening up to bloom. As Fran, the main character in the novel I wrote, kept harping on, I learned how to “bloom where I am planted.”

The end of 2015 is days away. My journal book is completed. These two years are over, and I will tuck this book away in my drawer of personal treasures.

A new collection of days eagerly awaits my footsteps. My new journal book rests next to my bed. Her pages are blank today.

I am ready.

NOTE: If you haven’t read my novel, Fishbowls and Birdcages, I invite you to take a look. This has been one of my most fulfilling accomplishments of these past two years. It is available in paperback and Kindle version on Amazon.com.