Mindful

It’s seven a.m. here in Georgia, and I’m sitting on my back porch waiting for the sun. Over the last week, Spring has brought new life to the view from where I’m sitting and, with it, the promise that a new season is upon us. Slowly emerging buds have awakened into a parade of verdant hues stretching toward a sky that is, finally, more often blue than gray. And the cherry trees, hesitant only a few short weeks ago, are, at last, in full bloom. Everywhere you look, their delicate petals drift through the air as evidence of their long-awaited return. Already, I can tell today is going to be another amazing day.

Yesterday, The Greatest Kid On The Planet and I started the day with a late breakfast of pineapple pancakes, and then there was online learning to be done. Afterwards, we spent a good part of the afternoon throwing around a football. I couldn’t have asked for a better day with my kid. I know so many are struggling through the current situation, and I pray for anyone who finds themselves in hardship during this time. For me, I’m grateful The Greatest Kid and I are safe and well, and I love having him at home with me. I’m trying to savor every moment while I can.

These days, I stay away from the media. There is no CNN in our home, no local or world news. I’ve never been one to take more than a glance at the headlines, but, right now, I stay away from even those. Fear, panic, and blame seem to be the order of the day, and with so much of it circulating around us, I’m feeling, more than ever, the need to protect my inner peace.

This is a conversation I seem to be having with a great many people, especially over the last few weeks. In February, I published a post about the difference between hurt and hate and how we get to grace, and I wrote that we can choose not to take the actions of others personally, but, rather, give grace to those who act in a hateful or hurtful manner. I was surprised by the number of emails I received following that post and by the sentiment shared by so many who find themselves struggling with grace and, sometimes, forgiveness.

While most agree giving grace is best, both for ourselves and for others, it isn’t always easy to do. We would like to think we’re above it all, but we are not immune to the words and wiles of other people and to all that is going on around us.

So, at a time when so many, it seems, are hell bent on spreading anger and hatefulness, and with so much negativity coming at us from every direction, how do we guard ourselves against it?

Last night, I fell asleep listening to the rhythm of the ocean just outside my bedroom, and earlier, it was the sound of the waves greeting the shore that pulled me from my sleep just in time to see the sun slip over the horizon. The ocean is peaceful this morning, the surface undisturbed as far as the eye can see, as if the tides themselves have yet to awaken.

Lately, our days have been filled with fun in the sand and the sun. Each year, after the last day of school has come and gone, The Greatest Kid On The Planet and I head for the shore. This year has been one of our greatest excursions yet, and even though I say that every year, I’m especially grateful for our current adventure because it almost didn’t happen.

We all, at times, experience unexpected trials that, whether for a mere moment or a whole season, throw us off track. Mine arrived in the form of a painful injury that has made it near impossible to concentrate and has kept me from my computer and keyboard. And while it came close to derailing our trip, there is little that can keep me from the ocean with The Greatest Kid. As it turns out, the sunshine and salty breeze were just what I needed to reset my compass and realign my focus.

I’ve often heard people say being by the ocean makes them feel small and insignificant in comparison. For me, it’s just the opposite. Sitting by the sea, watching the waves in perpetual, unrelenting motion, renews my spirit. And it reminds me of the immeasurable power of the Universe and all it’s capable of, and that this same infinite power of possibility has also been afforded to me.

It’s the end of March, and the days are just starting to feel warmer, although there is a definite chill in the night air. Ten days ago, the first official day of spring was a glorious one that ended with a magnificent full moon, and here in Georgia, delicate cherry blossoms adorn the trees everywhere you look. I love the way they float through the air, leaving gentle blankets of pink and white on the ground. It always amazes me that such a fragile, little flower is the first to bloom in early spring when the weather is still so unpredictable and can turn on us at any time.

Tonight, I’m sitting on my back porch under an array of stars and looking forward to the days ahead. Tomorrow morning, The Greatest Kid On The Planet and I will hit the road and head farther south to one of our favorite places where we’ll spend a week in the sand and the sun and the surf doing all the things we love with our favorite people. It’s going to be the best Spring Break ever. But we say that every year.

A short time ago, I was talking with a friend about new beginnings and how fast time goes by, the things we plan at the beginning of each new year, and the New Year’s resolutions that have already come and gone. It seems we begin each year by setting new expectations and standards to live by, and it made me wonder for a moment why we do that to ourselves.

This same friend is contemplating a new venture that will take her in a different direction, and I’m excited for the amazing things I see in her future. But I also understand the twinge of fear she expressed that comes with stepping out into something new and leaving behind what’s familiar. We’ve all been there and felt it; when the excitement we feel at all that’s to come is overshadowed by our hesitation and the questions we ask ourselves.