We've become a country of whiners, people!
And it's damned unbecoming!
I'm ashamed to admit I've become quite skilled at the talent, myself. I live in a country with a lot of issues, yet I'm blessed with many liberties and freedoms. I have some minor health problems, yet I can do most of what I want. I mean, I'll never run a 5K race, but I can hurry my butt into a shoe store when there's a sale's going on. My kids all live in different states and I don't see them enough, yet we text, call and email--and they know Mom loves 'em to bits. I get migraines that blind me, yet I can still feel my husband's arms around me as he leads me to bed until the worst of it passes. I have a sore on my abdomen that won't heal, but it's only one and not dozens. My writing schedule is hectic beyond belief, but I'm writing for two of the Big Five and I'm on schedule with my manuscripts. I also have some pretty darn terrific friends online, beautiful people I've never met and yet we click. We get each other. And I have my Calvin.
I am one very blessed woman!
It's all a matter of perspective and heart-attitude, isn't it? We have two choices--to be happy or bitchy. How many of us have met people with cancer or those who have lost more than any one person should lose and yet they are happy with what they have. They are keepin' on keepin' on. Or, as so many say, "I am faking it until I'm making it."
I'm sharing one of the first poems Calvin ever read to me. It's full of metaphors and truth and determination --
Mother To Son by Langston Hughes
Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—Bare.
But all the time I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So, boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps.
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now—
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
I CHALLENGE YOU ALL TO TAKE A WEEK TO COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS. AND REMEMBER, SOMETIMES BAD THINGS ARE BEAUTIFUL BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE.
8 comments:
Sometimes I forget, too, Vonnie! It's just so easy to forget and more difficult to be mindful daily of our blessings. I, too, have some aches and pains and am living with a husband who is already in dementia, who has become argumentative with his fear of not knowing people and places and things...but I'm still sane and strong enough to weather the storm and can get help when I need it... and that is not true for most folks today. So thanks for your reminder post! We can always use reminders of what's good about our lives. jdh2690@gmail.com
A great post and a great poem--I'd never seen that before. Thanks for the reminder, Vonnie.
Well said, Vonnie. I sometimes forget too, but I'm reminded a lot lately. I wanted to complain just yesterday, but I held my tongue for this very reason. Because everybody has it hard, and sometimes, it's remembering the good things that make life the most worthwhile. I've decided there's so much negativity in the world already. I don't want to be just another person adding to it.
I love that poem. I've never seen it before either, but it's beautiful.
Beautiful, Vonnie. I send you a hug for all the 'up' you give us every time you come online.
When our daughter died from cancer 12 years ago, I knew I had one of two choices: to pity myself and crawl into a hole and give up living or take on life for her and me (like she asked me to do) and get up with a smile in the morning, thanking God for the time I had with her. I chose the second and have never regretted it. I appreciate what I have more now and count those blessings daily. My writing career was my dream come true and with it came friends like you, opportunities a lot of people who give up don't have, and a feeling of accomplishment that is unmeasured to me. Life is short and a one-time deal that I intend to get the most out of. OOPS sorry, but you opened a door for me, my friend. Sorry I talked too long, but...
Janice, I'm sorry to hear about your husband. Calvin's mother had dementia. Thankfully I met her before it got too bad. I would talk to her about things we had in common, like growing up on a farm, learning how to can fruits and vegetables and sewing by hand. She soon had no clue who I was, but I could help her call up the past with a smile. The saddest day was when she no longer remembered Calvin, her youngest son. He stood outside her room and cried. She'd lived with him since she'd fallen some years earlier and they were very close. It's not an easy journey living with dementia. Keep in touch and vent here when you need to. Hugs.
Liz, my husband is half Native American and half African American and he reads a lot of poetry written during the Harlem Renaissance. One of the poets was Langston Hughes who could effectively incorporate dialect into his poetry as you can see here. Calvin reads a lot of poetry to me in bed at night and we have some great discussions since I knew so little of Black culture before meeting him 12 years ago. Having taught English and Shakespeare for 40 years, Calvin can soothe my soul by reading a poem in his southern twang.
Isn't it a beautiful poem, Joanne? None of us have lives lived on a crystal stairs. We stumble in the dark of what to do...what to do, step on tacs of people's nastiness.
I can't imagine the deep, cutting pain of losing a child. I'm glad you chose to honor her life by living yours to the fullest and becoming the writer you are. I imagine her angel leaning over your shoulder and pointing out little grammar errors as you write or whispering a "what if" idea in your ear and smiling as you are surprised by a sudden surge of inspiration.
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