So this is a day…

Monday.

Spent the morning getting my daughters to morning weights. Took a walk. Discovered a store was closed on Mondays. Talked with a colleague and got her the rest of the copies of a book from my room. Got a coffee from The Blue Moon. Took a nap. Made my video lesson for Move Me Poetry. Made dinner and washed dishes.

I spent a little time in Spaces on Twitter (now X I guess) and am trying to write a blog post.

Those are some of the things I did.

I felt tired this morning. I am feeling a sense of sadness I can’t shake. I thought about the upcoming school year. I danced with moments of doubt. Considered just getting into the car and driving away.

Those were some of the things I felt today.

How many people spent their day doing more things than me? How many people had more intense feelings than me today? 

There are almost 2 million people in the state of Nebraska. Farmers, shop owners, doctors, school teachers, teenagers… all of us making it through a Monday with our own emotions, doing our own things.

Crazy to think about how a day is filled with so many lives, so many stories that will never be known by more than a few people. How many tears fell today… from crying or laughing.

Expand the idea to our country, to the world.

At the moment you are reading this, how many things are being done, how many emotions are being felt? 

What a fantastic thing this is… a day.

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Passing a Flame

My daughters like to light our candles. We have a new candle that came with a small batch of matches in a cool little jar that has a striking surface on the bottom. They have to be quick to pass the flame from the match to the candle wick. I think that is part of the fun for them. Being quick to pass the flame before it burns the match and their fingers.

This morning, I had a thought as the altar boy used a taper to light the candles before church; that our social interactions are like passing a flame. 

There are two types of flames. One that ignites a person’s spirit so it illuminates their life.

These flames can be

  • a smile.
  • a hug.
  • saying, “I Love You”.
  • checking in on someone by text.

Any number of positive interactions is passing a flame that lights up a person.

The other flame is meant to burn a person, to destroy.

These flames can be

  • rolling your eyes.
  • a snide comment under your breath.
  • a mean comment on social media.
  • ignoring someone.

Any number of negative interactions meant to burn someone.

When we strike the match, we decide what kind of flame we will pass to another person. Are we trying to make life brighter or trying to burn down someone’s heart? 

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Sunshine and Storms

While we were in Wyoming we got rained on while the sun was shining.

The family was leaving the hotel. We stepped out onto the sidewalk under bright sunshine, then we were hit with big drops of rain. Enough to get us wet, but not soaked. My three daughters, who have never been to Wyoming, darted to the car laughing.

They had never seen a sunshower before; where wind carries rain from miles away. For a moment we were caught in a storm while the sun was shining.

I laughed as my girls clamored about what had just happened. But as I started the car, hitting the wipers, I thought the moment was a perfect metaphor for the day, for life in general. At any moment rain can appear, a storm, even if the sky stays clear and sunny.

There is a moment in the book Tuesdays With Morrie that captures this idea. Morrie is leaving the hospital after being diagnosed with ALS and the sun is shining. He shares how he was angry at the day for being so beautiful while he was facing devastating news. How could the world be so wonderful while he was dying?

I understand Morrie better after these last six months with my mom’s battle with cancer and her death. As my wife and I made quick trips to see her, I would feel the tension between the beautiful skies and the fear and worry of my mom’s health. On one trip my wife and I went downtown to get a coffee. It was a beautiful day. The baristas were wonderful. The coffee good. My wife and I sat enjoying a mint brownie. But we talked about what the future could be like without my mom in it, what would dad do, and when we should bring the kids to say goodbye.

Sunshine and storms. Smiles and tears. Wonder and fear. A life. 

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This I Believe

This post will be a little poetic…

This I believe:

that saying thank you is a powerful way to show you care.

that dance parties are the best family bonding activity.

that taking walks is a form of prayer.

This I believe:

that friendships will save your life.

that showing love is a sign of strength.

that living your best life means you are growing.

This I believe:

that this world is beautiful, but we make it ugly.

that learning is how we become who we are.

that eating ice cream in the winter is the best.

This I believe:

that poetry is a type of magic.

that an open heart means having open eyes.

that we don’t trust the rain enough.

This I believe:

that heartbreak is inspiration.

that a smile is a way to speak the truth.

that living deeply is the only way to do it.

This I believe…

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Keys

Today we were finishing up cleaning the in-laws’ house. In the garage hung about 50 different keys. They hung on different keychains. Only a few were labeled. It was my job to test all the keys on all the doors and padlocks.

Some keys I didn’t have to try because they were old car keys. The head of the key would have the brand stamped on it, so I knew I didn’t need to test them. But other keys were so worn that it was hard to know what kind of key it was.

Out of all those keys I found 6 that worked in a door or a padlock.

Some keys fit in every door, but would not unlock any of them. Other keys didn’t fit any door or lock. I sat there looking at the pile of keys that no longer worked and wondered about which door, which car, what part of life did these keys fit into. Why were the keys still hanging on nails in the garage?

What keys do we need in this life and what keys do we hang on to even though they are no longer needed?

We all have keys that unlock memories, unlocks our joy, and there are doors we try to hide the keys for so that no one can open that door. And then we have doors we keep trying to pry open because we lost or just don’t have the key. We shake the doorknob, slam our shoulder into the door. But it doesn’t budge… I hate it when a goal is sitting on the other side of that door.

I had to test keys today for my in-laws, but recognize that I need to work on my own keys in my life.

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I don’t know what I’m writing

Seriously, this may be the most organic blog post ever. As I write these words, I do not know where my thoughts will take this blog. You have been warned.

I am sitting in my chair, rolling with my “Deep Thought” playlist and Pearl Jam’s song, “Just Breathe” is playing. I am trying some new coffee, which isn’t too bad. And I am lost.

Ohhh, “Bad Man’s Song” by Tears for Fears just started playing. Love this song! You should check it out.

OK, back to being lost. Besides on what to write for this blog post, I am feeling adrift at the moment. Part of that feeling stems from visiting my dad back home. The energy in the house was missing my mom’s gentleness. Her soft laugh. There was an undertow in the house as if life was trying to find a way to fill the emptiness in the house, but it didn’t know what to fill it with.

Life continues going no matter what happens to us as people. My mom died just a few days before her 69th birthday. Earlier this month was my parents 52nd anniversary. My dad has major holidays coming up. But even harder milestones will be the first University of Wyoming football game, then the start of basketball season. Let alone, drinking coffee alone each morning.

This life is an amazing gift but comes with responsibilities that challenge our very being. The first is that we are responsible for the quality of our happiness.  Even when others try to destroy us, tear us down. Even when the randomness of life breaks us. We are still responsible for every breath we take. It is a heavy load to carry, especially if we run from it.  Which I fear too many people do in so many different ways.

But to move through hardships, you have to move into them. And that means feeling the pain, screaming at God, crying when a song moves you to. I had never hugged my dad as he cried before until this visit. The moment needed to be felt, instead of running away from it.

We then drank coffee together in the kitchen. Yes, there was still an emptiness in the room, but we helped life fill it with love and the pictures he showed me of last fall when they went hiking. There was my mom smiling on a bridge in her University of Wyoming gear.

I’ll end with a song that played while I was writing… (Seriously it did!)

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Danger

There are warning signs. Always are. The park had two signs. But in a second there was danger.

Rattlesnake

Yes, a rattlesnake appeared in the picnic area.

Not as we adventures on the hiking trails. Played in the river. No, as we took a break to discus what to do next the above rattlesnake appeared. When we thought we were safe from the warning signs.

Isn’t that how it happens. Danger appears at the moment we let our guard down, or when we least expect it.

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Little Adventures

Using the app as I travel, so this is a new adventure in itself.

Trees and blue sky

The photo above is from a small hike we took at the Pine Bluffs rest stop. We visited the dig site, Window to the Past. We spent 30 minutes having a small adventure.

We ate lunch at one of the McDs that you have to use the kiosk to order… yep, that was a small adventure.

As life changes, I’m appreciating the big memories made when I take small adventures.

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Back Home

I’m heading home tomorrow to visit my dad. It will be the first time back home since my mom passed away. I know it will be different. I don’t know how I will handle it. There will be a silence… I am most stressed about being in the kitchen. Now my parents didn’t dance in the kitchen, but it was the hub of the house, especially when I was growing up. I would sit on the counter to talk with my parents as they made Sunday breakfast. When I became an adult, we would lean against the counter, coffee in hand and just talk.

A digital frame sits in the kitchen, a Christmas present from us, with pictures of my family playing on it. Bags of chips are still placed on top of the refrigerator, even though they got a new fridge a few years ago. The microwave still sits on wooden table in the corner.

It will be different now.

Life is different now. 

But I will be back home soon. I’ll stand in the kitchen, coffee in hand, while dad and I fill the silence talking about memories.

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A Post for the Old Man and his Garden

The first poem in my book, April 2020, is “To the Old Man Gardening During the Pandemic”. The poem chronicles my encounter with an older gentleman as he was gardening. I was on a walk, which I did a lot during the lockdown. This man’s house has a big backyard with a variety of flora. I had seen him out in his garden over the years. Of course, the poem (and book) are centered on life during the pandemic.

Flash forward to now. Even with the craziness of the summer, I have been walking on a regular basis. I had noticed that I had not seen the gentleman out in his garden, even though it still looked good. Yesterday I found out why.

He’s gone.

I do not know what happened to him. For once I was too shy to ask the person out front of the house closing up a moving trailer. The backyard had one of those little kid cars (the blue one with a red hood), a hot tube, and other toys that meant that a young family had moved into the house.

He was gone.

I stood at the yield sign at the T-junction where most of his flowers are trying not to cry. This summer has been filled with drastic moments that changed my life. Some joyful and exciting (my oldest son starting his career). Others have cracked my spirit. And standing next to the flowers this gentleman spent so much time caring for pushed my heart to the edge. 

I wondered what the new family would do with the backyard. I envied the children, they will love the space (the house sits on two lots). But what will they do with the trellis? Will they keep the roses? His home and garden was becoming a home for a new family.

The old man gardening during the pandemic is gone. But I remember him. And his garden.

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