Belated Gratitude—#1

The past two Sundays found me busy preparing for and then traveling to visit friends for an extended Thanksgiving with them. Consequently, I haven’t posted my gratitude for the gifts of my life this year. So today and perhaps for the next couple of Sundays, I want to do that.

I’ll start with some information that will lead to the gratitude that is welling up in my heart and mind and spirit during these last weeks of 2017. The next few paragraphs may sound like “downers.” However, they don’t represent negativity. They are simply background for my gratitude. Let’s begin.

Because of Meniere’s Disease, I do not hear words in my left ear. Hearing aids do not help with loss experienced by Meniere’s, so I have compromised hearing.

Because of glaucoma, I also have compromised vision. My field-of-vision narrowed so much by October 2015, that I gave up driving. It continues to narrow and because of that as well as continued damage to my optic nerves, I seem to see through a sheer curtain all the time.

To counter the ongoing problem of glaucoma, I put drops in my eyes nine times a day, so the stove timer rules my life. The schedule of those drops determines when I will leave the house and how long I will be gone. When the timer interrupts phone calls, I must conclude conversations. It is essential that I put these drops in my eyes if I want to continue to see well enough to live alone here in my home.

Meniere’s and the compromised vision have affected my balance. That in turn—as well as arthritis in my lumbar area—affects my walking. I used to walk three-to-four miles a day. Now I walk around the block.

Okay, that’s a list of physical disabilities that are part of my daily life. Now let’s get to the gratitude. As those of you who have followed this blog for some time know, my mother often said to me when I was young, “Dolores, you find what you look for. If you look for good you will find it. And if you look for bad, you will surely find that too.”

Hellen O'Mara Ready, 1931. Twenty-one years old.

When I write those words I see her blue eyes as they hold me fast. I see the kindness of her mouth as she forms the words. She’s been dead now since May 1968, so nearly fifty years, but her voice still speaks to me with a wisdom that continues to shepherd me through life.

Thus we come to gratitude. It begins with my mother who taught me through word and example to look for the good in all experiences. To find the good and embrace it. To stop looking at the closed door of loss and to turn and look out the open window at what is being offered. At what is still possible. And so I do. And so I will because there is still so much to appreciate in my life.

Matthew, the racing tiger cat. Eight years old.

I can still hear the purr of the cats with whom I live. Ellie who’s brindle. Maggie, the calico. And Matthew the exuberant tiger who bounds through the house like an Indie 500 racer. He keeps me alert to the moment.

I can still hear them, see them, let them rest against my body as they nap away the day. For them, I am grateful. They enliven my life and my home. They make me feel needed and necessary. Because of them, I must get out of bed each morning. They demand to be fed and for that I am grateful.

Next Sunday, I am going to continue this gratitude list by sharing my Thanksgiving flying travails with you. They left me feeling great gratitude.

Peace to you, pressed down and overflowing in this season of expectation.