![]() My mom was having her kitchen remodeled and I was helping her box up her dishes and small appliances in preparation for the contractors. I opened the door to the bottom of the china cabinet. It was full of never used dishtowels. I began pulling them out and stacking them on the floor next to me. “Mom, why are you keeping all these towels? The tags are still on them. Why haven’t you used them?” Her response was four words, “Martin gave them to me.” My brother, Martin, was always mom’s golden child. He was the only boy nestled between me and my sister. In our sisterly opinions, he was mom’s favorite. She always took his side and she spoiled him. I began laughing. “You are saving them because Martin gave them to you?” Again, she had a short answer, “Yes.” I sat back against the wall. I was circled by towels. “Mom let me share something with you. For all the years since Martin graduated from college and moved away, he has sent me money to do his gift shopping. I have purchased your Birthday, Mother’s Day, and Christmas gifts for him. I have wrapped them and given them to you with tags that say from Martin. He probably doesn’t remember what most of the gifts were. Whenever I had a few dollars left I used it to buy you dish towels from him because yours always looked worn out. Martin would not even know these are from him.” I couldn’t stop laughing at the thought of her using the old worn-out dishtowels while all these new ones were tucked in the china cabinet. She looked at me in disbelief. In her mind my brother had thoughtfully picked out each towel specifically for her. She loved him for that and she had attached that love to each square of terrycloth fabric. She had carefully placed each new towel (and the emotions it carried) in the cabinet to be kept safely with the others. How many times have we connected feelings and emotions to things or places? We all do this. I am a sentimental person. I have the original recipe for oatmeal cookies that my grandmother wrote on a piece of lined paper. The paper is yellow and worn after decades of unfolding it to make those special cookies. I have attached my memories of her to the recipe, her cursive writing, and the taste of those cookies. I also have my dad’s hat and tubs of my son’s things. These items bring me true memories and warm my heart. I believe these emotions are reasonable and rational. This can work in a negative way too. I was in a hotel when I received the call that my son had passed. I associate that hotel with pain, tragedy and the death of my son. For years I could not drive down the street where the hotel was located. The thought of ever staying there again gives me a visceral reaction. I hate that hotel. Did the hotel have anything to do with my son’s death? No. Is it logical for me to attach such hatred to a building? Probably not. After I stopped laughing and my mom stopped giving me her, mom look, for making fun of her, for once again favoring my brother- we packed all the towels and her feelings into a box. I reinforced that my brother had never seen these towels or knew about them. That in fact I was the one who picked them out with her in mind. I told her that she should put them to good use in her newly remodeled kitchen. She agreed that if they weren’t from Martin she didn’t need to save them and would use them in the new kitchen. I silently laughed inside at her thought process that because I had picked each one out for her was not a reason to keep them as a special possession. Did I mention my brother was her favorite child? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Be careful what you attach emotions and feelings to. Make sure it is for the right reason. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: [email protected]. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2024 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information. #CornerofSpiritandBrave #LoveYourLifeNoMatterWhat #JourneyThrough #PennieHunt #IAmGoodEnough #grief #Love #Joy #HowToBeHappy #Happiness
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![]() I remember looking at the jungle gym of chains that hung over the hospital bed. My grandfather would roll his wheelchair next to the bed, reach up to grab the triangle handles and using only his arms to lift himself out of the chair, swing back and forth until he landed in the middle of the bed. The handles would continue to swing the chains after he released them making a clanking sound until the chains and my grandfather rested in silence. In photographs my grandfather was a vibrant man dressed in overalls standing next to his prized horses. He loved horses. I vaguely remember the pony he had for us grandchildren. He would put us in a small wagon and the pony would run in circles around the property as we giggled and squealed with delight. I struggle to remember this version of my grandfather. I am not sure when it began, but diabetes attacked him. First, a toe was removed, and eventually, he became a double amputee. Most of my memories are of this grandfather. The one in the wheelchair with the jungle gym over his bed. The one that was not supposed to eat sugar but would occasionally wheel his chair to the kitchen and sneak Oreos from the cookie jar – only to be scolded by my grandmother. The words sugar and diabetes were overused in my life as I grew up. Because of this, I was raised on artificial sweeteners. We never had candy in our house. But I craved sugar. I am a girl who believes ice cream should be a food group. I believe everyone has an addiction and for me it is sugar. I am not sure if it was because I rarely had it or if the artificial sweeteners made my brain want more of the real stuff. As with everything in life, it seems the studies and recommendations change over time. Artificial sweeteners used to be a miracle. You could have the taste of sugar without the side effects. Then we were told the chemicals in artificial sweeteners are dangerous. Stevia became the natural answer -until it wasn’t. Sugar is bad so we lessen it. Artificial sweeteners are bad, so we avoid them. So how do we enjoy the sweetness of life? Maybe the answer Is in the way we live. If we were in a constant feeling of joy and happiness, we may lose the appreciation for the feeling of happiness. If we are on a constant sugar high, we may not notice the sweetness of a cookie – we just eat it. I have gone through long periods of not eating sugar- zero, nothing, not one taste. And, I have gone through times of bingeing to excess. I will say neither situation makes me feel great. I remember watching my grandfather eat a forbidden Oreo. The joy on his face. I understand the danger of too much sugar. I can appreciate the natural sweetness of an apple. I also believe that the occasional taste of ice cream satisfies a sweet craving. It teaches me to enjoy the special taste of sweetness as a luxurious treat. I have lived through joyful times that filled my heart. I have suffered the deepest tragedies, which made those joyful times even sweeter. It is in the up and down, the ebb and flow, the balancing of life that we realize and feel the difficult times and appreciate the good times. It is noticing the small, sweet moments in life that make us appreciate the joy. This is how we enjoy the sweetness that life has to offer. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Appreciate the balance of life and enjoy the sweetness of each moment. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: [email protected]. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2024 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information. #CornerofSpiritandBrave #LoveYourLifeNoMatterWhat #JourneyThrough #PennieHunt #IAmGoodEnough #grief #Love #Joy #HowToBeHappy #Happiness ![]() Gracie and Zenee rule the house. They are scheduled and demanding. They want to get up at a certain time, nap at a certain time, and put to bed at a certain time. Breakfast is at 7 am, followed by doing their tricks. Sitting, spinning in a circle, rolling over, and shaking. A treat follows each trick. Once they have performed, they go to the cabinet where the biscuits are kept and they each get a biscuit. This system of treat-giving used to be spread between breakfast and noon, but the little princesses have decided it is all an extension of breakfast. Mid-afternoon is vitamin time. You know, those fancy dog vitamins that are all over social media and claim to cure everything? Yes, they love them and at exactly 2 pm it is vitamin time. Earlier if they are successful at talking us into serving them sooner. Just so you know- they have their own Instagram account, and they direct us to post adorable photos of them. Dinner is at exactly 5 pm. It is time to go downstairs and watch T.V. at 7:30. A special treat waits for them when the T.V. is turned on. They go to bed at 9:30. Their dog playpen (they prefer to call it their condo) is in the corner of our bedroom. They love to sleep on the soft cushion, with their favorite small blankets and their best buddies, Lovey and Snuggles - two stuffed dogs that make the sound of heartbeats. When we go to the store or out to dinner, they expect an explanation of where we are going, what we will be doing, how long we will be gone, and who is in charge while we are away. Gracie is always told she is in charge and Zenee is second in charge. (Zenee hates being second at anything, but she is the youngest so…) The world revolves around dog meals, grooming appointments, veterinary appointments, monthly allergy shots, dog sitters for the times we are out of town, and the general care and comfort of the girls. Our family teases us about how spoiled our dogs are. We don’t think of them as dogs. They are our fur babies and part of the family. At times we wonder why we seem to be human butlers to our dogs. How did we lose control? Then I read about an interesting concept. In Hawaii, pet ownership is very different. In Hawaii, you are not the owner of a pet. You are known as their Kahu. Kahu translates to guardian, protector, steward, beloved attendant, (yes, a human butler) basically someone entrusted with the safety of a precious and cherished thing. In Hawaii, a dog is not your property. You are their caretaker. Hawaiians believe dogs are connected to the gods and goddesses. Dogs bring good luck. After learning this, I realized we might be doing it right. We cherish our precious girls. We protect them and pamper them. We do everything we can to keep them happy, healthy, and safe. We would do anything for them. Unfortunately, time goes too fast in dog years. In January Gracie will turn 9-years-old and Zenee will be 8. It feels like we just brought them home yesterday. Two sweet fluffy puppies who healed our hearts when we were grieving the loss of our 16-year-old Shih Tzu, Yogee. They brought life and movement back into our home. They taught us that there is no end of love after loss and gave us a place to share it again. They brought meaning and purpose into our world. They have given us more than we can ever repay. For as long as we are lucky enough to have these sacred creatures in our lives, we will be honored to be their Kahu. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Dogs are not just dogs. They are sacred creatures of love. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: [email protected]. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2024 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information. #CornerofSpiritandBrave #LoveYourLifeNoMatterWhat #JourneyThrough #PennieHunt #IAmGoodEnough #grief #Love #Joy #HowToBeHappy #Happiness ![]() I do not remember every detail, but I do remember that I did it. I remember the fear—the tears. And getting caught. One of my first life memories is of the nativity set. My mom would carefully put it out every year. It was her favorite Christmas decoration. I would look at it for hours. It was like a doll house filled with the magical story of Christmas. I loved the shepherds and the wise men, but the angels and baby Jesus were my favorite. My hands wanted so badly to touch the baby lying on the tiniest whispers of hay in the little wooden manger. This was forbidden. I am sure my mom told me hundreds of times, “Don’t touch, just look.” It was hard. Standing in front of it my hands would lift and be on target to pick up the delicate baby, only to hear my mom’s voice… Don’t touch! I am not sure how it happened. My mom must have been busy and didn’t notice. I scooped the baby out of the cradle. I closed my hand around him as tightly as I could and ran with him to the bathroom. The only room I could close the door and not have anyone follow me. I just wanted to hold him. See him closely and feel like he was mine. I opened my tightly held fist and there he was - broken into two pieces. His head and his body separated. The moments between picking him up and running to the bathroom are blurred. Did I kiss him too hard or hold him too tight in my chubby little hand? I am not sure what caused his head to break off, but somehow it happened. I do remember instant fear. Instant panic. I looked around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do. I did the most logical thing a 4-year-old panic-stricken girl could think of- I hid him in the crack between the wall and the toilet. Tip-toeing out of the bathroom and down the hall I went into my room and crawled on my bed holding my dolls as if I had innocently been there the entire time. My memory feels like it was days, but I am sure it was only hours before my mom noticed the empty manger. She called my brother, sister, and me into the living room to stand in line in front of the nativity set. Pointing to the space where baby Jesus had been, she demanded a confession. My memory is dark at this point. I am not sure how the truth came out, or how the dismantled baby was rescued from behind the toilet, but it was. My memory comes back with me once again standing in the bathroom, door closed, sobbing and blubbering, “Nobody loves me but my daddy and he’s not here!” My dad was on TDY, (a military term used when the Air Force sent my dad on temporary duty away.) This was my go-to phrase every time I was in trouble when my dad was gone. Occasionally it garnered pity, but not this time. My mom was way past any outpouring of sympathy for me. Today I carefully opened the box and one by one unwrapped the white tissue paper that wrapped each character of the nativity set. Every year I place it on a small table covered with a doily my mom embroidered. The sheep go next to the shepherd. One angel kneels behind the cradle and one to the side. The three wise men are walking up to the stable. And baby Jesus is laid on the whisper of hay in the manger. His golden halo glows under the small blue light. You can barely see the circle of glue around his neck. The circle that reminds me every year of my childhood. Of my mom and my family. The tradition of setting up this magical scene every Christmas. And reminds me of the circle of life that has glued my love for family and tradition together. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Remember the small traditions in life. The ones that circle your life with love. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: [email protected]. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2024 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information. #CornerofSpiritandBrave #LoveYourLifeNoMatterWhat #JourneyThrough #PennieHunt #IAmGoodEnough #grief #Love #Joy #HowToBeHappy #Happiness ![]() When you are in the time of life when you are working a job, you probably look forward to having enough money saved to retire. You believe if you work hard now, you will enjoy years of relaxation during retirement. Life will be easy. Conversely, if you spend most of your life believing that you don’t need to save money or prepare for retirement, life may be easy for you now, but retirement may be less than relaxing. Life will be hard. Life works both ways. Life can either be easy now and hard later or hard now and easy later. This concept plays out in many ways during many circumstances. College can be a fun and exciting time. It is easy to enjoy all the social activities, skip classes, and not be dedicated to studying. This kind of college lifestyle may lead to failing exams, failing classes, and failing college. Easy now, hard later. Attending class regularly and missing a few social activities so you can study is hard. But, when you put the effort in, passing the exam, passing the class and graduating becomes easy. Hard now, easy later. Making time to exercise, committing to a workout routine, and sticking to it for a lifetime is hard. When you are in the middle of a 10-mile run it is hard. Once you have done this for years your stamina and fitness level will be worth the hard work. Movement and flexibility will be easier as you age. Hard now, easy later. If you never take time to commit to exercise the aging process will be hard. Easy now, hard later. Eating fast food every night on your way home from work may save you time, be convenient, and be easy now. But what will the ramifications be on your body in the years to come? The health issues may create a hard life later. Life is either easy now and hard later, or hard now and easy later. It is your choice which path you believe is right for you. Do you want to pay now or pay later? This takes some intentional thinking. Is the immediate gratification of fun, avoidance, or slacking worth the consequences it will bring in the future? Are you willing to pay the future price for your earlier actions? None of us do the right thing every time. We all make mistakes in life. We all fail occasionally. These missteps are hard. If we continue to make them over and over life can be really hard. This can create a situation of hard now AND hard later. But if we learn from failure or mistakes, it can make our lives easier in the future. We learn how to live better, be better, and do better. Hard now, easy later. The next time you think you are too tired to work out, you don’t want to do the work to pass the test, or driving through to pick up fast food seems appealing, think about this concept. Will this action make your life easy now and hard later, or hard now and easy later? It is your choice to decide which path you believe is right for you. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Life is either easy now and hard later, or hard now and easy later. The choice is yours. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: [email protected]. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2024 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information. #CornerofSpiritandBrave #LoveYourLifeNoMatterWhat #JourneyThrough #PennieHunt #IAmGoodEnough #grief #Love #Joy #HowToBeHappy #Happiness |
AuthorThere is a certain magic about where I live both physically and spiritually – on the crossroads of Spirit and Brave. Archives
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