Sunday, 30 September 2007 - Climbing moments

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for climbing moments.

Thirty days hath September ...

September has been the strangest month of this year's journey. From Labor Day to 9/11 to seasonal transitions to harvest time, I hoped, I prayed, I believed.

I end the month, thankfully, on a high note. On a lovely autumn day filled with mixed feelings about nearly everything, I climbed very well.

That's what I like about climbing - I'm forced to focus 100% on the task before me, to live entirely in the present. Shut down worries and anxieties. Forget about yesterday's mistakes and tomorrow's challenges.

I step onto the rock and study the problem it presents to me - a gift, really. It's up to me to make the next move.

Climbing. An act that produces meaning from movement. An experiencing of time and space. Reality. I climb therefore I am.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Saturday, 29 September 2007 - A patient heart

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for a patient heart during a week when nothing seems to be going my way.

Be patient with everyone, but above all with yourself ... do not be disheartened by your imperfections, but always rise up with fresh courage. ~Saint Francis de Sales

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Friday, 28 September 2007 - Peppers to pick

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for peppers to pick.

The near-freezing night time temperatures mean one thing ... harvest time is near.

I concede that the watermelons won't mature. They're curious plants - amid the withering leaves sit a few fresh blossoms. In a few weeks, I'll dig up the vines and cut up the immature fruit before adding them to the compost bins.

At least I can reap a pepper crop. I am tempted to pick the dozen or so peppers but decide to wait at least one more week. The mariachis sport a reddish cap near the stems. In a few days, each pepper will blush boldly, wearing their finest fall colors just for me.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Thursday, 27 September 2007 - Autumn climbing

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for autumn climbing.

The day produced all the elements of a perfect fall climbing adventure - ideal weather, gentle trail, warm rock - except for the actual climbing.

We're still a bit rusty from the long layoff due to S's blisters.

I just couldn't link the movements required to climb one slightly overhung section. Grasp crimps ... step up left foot ... step up right foot ... reach high right hand ... step up right foot.

For the next few days, I'll mentally rehearse the sequence over and over so I can do it or a similar problem this weekend. I'll also add a few more sets of pull-ups and push-ups to my workout ... never hurts to be stronger.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Photo: Red Rock Canyon ... fall colors

Wednesday, 26 September 2007 - A greater purpose

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for a greater purpose.

Every time you pick up a piece of trash along the road, say to yourself, "Holy, Holy, Holy is the house of God." ~Edward Hays

Time to feed the trash receptacles. I am in a "pick up every last bit of trash along our route" mood. Not because I have to but because I want to.

Even T senses that this morning's walk has a greater purpose. He dutifully leads me to a wayward scrap of paper and wags his tail as I pick it up. One down, scores to go.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Tuesday, 25 September 2007 - Warm jacket

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for a warm jacket.

Common sense is not so common. ~Voltaire

I am freezing this morning. The cold front that brought snow to the high country continues its unseasonable journey to the south and east. The resorts are predicting an early ski season.

T celebrates the cooler weather by tearing around the backyard in pro running back style while I complain about the cold. He's eager to begin our morning walk.

I must look strange to our middle school friends waiting at the bus stop. Yes, I'm the woman wearing summer capris, walking shoes and a warm Patagonia jacket made from wind resistant fleece. If I had prepared better, I'd also be wearing gloves and a hat.

Dominic yells good morning to T. I see that he's not wearing a jacket or his favorite hoodie. I'm sure that, as he left the house a few minutes earlier, his mother urged him to wear a jacket. But, like most boys his age, he refused, opting to brave the chill. Now, he looks cold but won't admit his discomfort.

I shiver and push my hands deep into my pockets. When Dominic's older and wiser, he'll appreciate the virtues of wearing a warm jacket on a cold morning.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Monday, 24 September 2007 - One bold caterpillar

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for one bold caterpillar.

There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly.
~Richard Buckminster Fuller

I always notice butterflies, especially the ones that visit my gardens. But, I very rarely see caterpillars (although I've spotted cocoons in the scrub oak).

So, during prime visiting hours at Garden of the Gods, I was surprised to find one bold caterpillar out in the open. "Mr. Fuzzy" entertained us for a minute or so. He demonstrated his acrobatic skills by traversing a leggy scrub oak branch. Then, he wandered into the grassy area that bordered the paved trail. No time to stop and chat. Mr. Fuzzy was definitely on his way to somewhere.

Now, the caterpillar's appearance must be a sign (a good one, I hope) - a warning, perhaps, that I should not downplay my sensitivity to seasonal changes.

Summer becomes fall becomes winter.
Long shadows punctuate my days.
Morning late.
Evening early.
I pray as the harvest moon rises.

The spirit of transformation hovers over me like a vigilant guardian angel.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Sunday, 23 September 2007 - A sense of humor

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for a sense of humor.

At the height of laughter, the universe is flung into a kaleidoscope of new possibilities.
~Jean Houston

Mirth is God's medicine. Everybody ought to bathe in it.
~Henry Ward Beecher

A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing. ~William James

During this afternoon's visit with Tom, S and I noticed these changes in his behavior:

1. Time. He lives more and more in the present, following ongoing events and conversations. He also fixates on very specific future events like doctor consultations.
2. Social skills. He now greets and acknowledges other patients (not just the medical staff).
3. Personality. He displays a sense of humor.

The last item - Tom's reborn sense of humor - was a delight to experience. I'm smiling right now, recalling his funny (and appropriate) antics and witty retorts.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Photo: Red Rock Canyon - Quarry Wall - looking west from today's climbing route on the east wall

Saturday, 22 September 2007 - Leaves

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for leaves.

You shall ask
What good are dead leaves
And I will tell you
They nourish the sore earth.
You shall ask
What reason is there for winter
And I will tell you
To bring about new leaves.
You shall ask
Why are the leaves so green
And I will tell you
Because they are rich with life.
You shall ask
Why must summer end
And I will tell you
So that the leaves can die.
~Nancy Wood

During our afternoon hike, I see that the leaves are already changing. Is it truly that time of the year?

As I slowly turn the calendar page, I say good-bye to summer and reluctantly welcome autumn. According to the book of seasons, the leaves now have permission to exchange their practical summer greens for radiant and extravagant gold and crimson robes.

Yes, it's time to celebrate the harvest and prepare for winter.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Photo: Native sumac (relative of poison oak)

Friday, 21 September 2007 - Luigi

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for Luigi.

I hear his familiar voice on the answering machine: "Hello, this is Luigi from LBD ..."

Luigi calls me from the upscale New York City department store about two or three times a year (whenever his cosmetics line offers a special promotion). Late this morning, he calls and leaves a message. A few hours later, I return his call.

Luigi asks how I am doing and if I had a good summer. I learn that he vacationed in Italy this year. I ask him to describe any new items or colors and, given the products I already own, what he thinks I should add to my collection. Then, I place an order. This time, I need to replenish a few frequently-used products and want to buy the top item on my wish list.

I first "met" him over the phone about three years ago after I decided to use mineral makeup. After our initial conversation, he sent me lots of generous samples so I could choose the right colors for my face, cheeks, eyes and lips. Long story short ... thanks to Luigi, I am a loyal LBD customer.

I'm thinking about another visit to New York City. My trips are all pre-9/11. I think about sauntering along Fifth Avenue for a day of window shopping and museum hopping. I think about eating at an out-of-the-way deli and savoring an Italian ice purchased from a gregarious street vendor. I think about exploring Greenwich Village and searching the cool Bleeker Street shops for the perfect accessory - most likely a piece of artisan jewelry. And, I think about finally meeting Luigi and letting him use his talent and every trick he knows to make me look absolutely fabulous.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Thursday, 20 September 2007 - Summer memories

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for summer memories.

Summer ends.
Autumn begins.
A seamless transition.
Yet, each season is distinct and separate.

Our summer began on a down note ... Tom's freak bicycle accident on June 16 that resulted in a traumatic brain injury primarily to his left frontal lobe. His month-long coma and ensuing weeks in a local hospital dictated our evening schedule. Although Tom's now in Denver for rehabilitation, we still think and worry about him daily.

Our summer ends on more down notes ... George M's cancer diagnosis and grim prognosis (the cancer is widespread) and Daisy's death (expected but still difficult to accept).

As for the days and weeks in between ... merely life as I lived it. This year, however, I faced each summer day knowing that, despite my good health and optimism, I have no guarantee that I will live to see the summer of 2008.

Among other things, this summer ...

~ S and I rock climbed with enthusiasm and passion, but didn't attempt any route on the Wailing Wall (timing wasn't right).

~ We connected with people from our past - for S, a Peace Corps buddy whose son is a freshman at the Air Force Academy; for me, a few high school classmates.

~ I caught the sewing bug and made several items for my climbing and everyday wardrobe, found and bought a pair of perfectly fitting jeans and won second place in a national poetry contest.

~I began brewing my own kombucha tea and started this year's batch of my popular homemade organic vanilla extract.

~ For the 21st consecutive year, we did not attend the annual Labor Day hot air balloon event in Memorial Park.

~ My vegetable and herb garden comprised an experiment that yielded mixed results (note the bags of rich compost that I intend to work into the soil before winter). I'm not sure the watermelons will ripen before the first hard freeze or snowfall. The hot mariachi peppers did very well - I look forward to adding them to pots of spicy tortilla soup this winter.

~ My perennial gardens and shrubs grew wildly, creating a nectar-rich playground for the bees, butterflies and hummingbirds.

~ The six goji berry bushes thrived - can't wait until they finally produce berries - won't be for another 2-3 years, however - hope we still live here so I can celebrate the first harvest.

Adieu summer of 2007. Thanks for the memories.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Wednesday, 19 September 2007 - Daisy

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for Daisy.

In moments of joy, all of us wished we possessed a tail we could wag.
~W.H. Auden

You think dogs will not be in heaven?
I tell you, they will be there long before any of us.
~Robert Louis Stevenson

S and T ran into Ric and Audrey (the mastiff) this evening. Ric gave S the sad news: Daisy, one of Mark's dogs, had died.

Daisy, a golden Retriever, suffered from many maladies including cancer. She was only 10 (same age as T) but looked years older. I think she knew that she could not survive another cold and snowy Colorado winter. Not with severe arthritis. Not with the cancer.

I searched my archives for a photo of Daisy but couldn't find one.

So, imagine a perfect September morning. See the faithful and loyal golden retriever trudging along the dirt path adjacent to the culvert. Her reddish coat is soft and feathery; her face and muzzle, sporting a white beard. Her droopy, weary eyes brighten immediately when her dad calls her name.

She lingers near the overgrown field, inspecting a weed, sniffing a large rock. She walks at her own pace, unconcerned about the others who are many yards ahead of her now. The warm sun feels quite lovely this morning. The cool breeze carries a tantalizing scent - maybe a wild bunny or a pesky ground squirrel hiding in the scrub oak.

Despite her ailments, she insists on accompanying her dad and brother (a black Lab mix) for a lap or two around the park. Twice a day, in fact. Morning and dusk.

She pauses for a minute, as if to take it all in - the glorious sunshine, the cloudless blue sky, the nearby meadow and its bouquets of late summer wildflowers, the familiar sidewalk, the expanse of park lawn, the good sniffs, the cows grazing on the hillside, the saplings struggling to grow near the playground, the messy muddy spots near the softball field, her dad and brother enjoying the exercise ... one last time before the day fades for good, leaving only stars, moonlight and night sky.

Good-bye, Daisy.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Tuesday, 18 September 2007 - Reality check

Dear God:

Today I am thankful for a reality check.

Lead me to places of loneliness and pain.
May Your words shine in my mouth.
May I trust that the way You have made me is the way that is needed.

~Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D.

This prayer, especially the third line, really touched a raw nerve. So much so that I'm seriously evaluating my ongoing and quasi-fanatical self-improvement efforts.

I'm thinking that it's time to take a break from the ongoing search for myself.

Maybe the person I am this very minute is quite sufficient for this leg of my journey.

Maybe, I need to appreciate how far I've come given how scared and unprepared I was when I started the adventure.

And, maybe, just maybe, I am already sitting pretty, having reached an important destination. I just don't know it because I've haven't taken the time to explore and appreciate my surroundings. Imagine missing a milestone that's clearly marked in my book of days!

If all these "maybes" are true, then it's time for me to embrace my sufficiency, walk with greater confidence, speak with more authority, write more passionately, and trust that I am needed.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.

Monday, 17 September 2007 - Living strong

Dear God:

Today, I am thankful for the honor of living strong for others.

Some days there won't be a song in your heart.
Sing anyway.
~Emory Austin

Earlier this year, I wrote about my diligence in wearing a yellow Lance Armstrong "livestrong" bracelet. I also cited the names of people for whom I am living strong.

Sadly, I must now add two more names to the list:

~Lisa Moore, breast cancer
I've followed Lisa's long, heartbreaking struggle with breast cancer in the comic strip, Funky Winkerbean. This month, she's finishing the last leg of her remarkable journey and coming to terms with death. Yes, she's only a comic strip character and I don't know her personally. But, she represents the reality of breast cancer and has unselfishly shared her story with faithful readers - that's why she's on my list.

~George M.
George is the local genius who invented a low-impact plyometric exercise machine. S and I are members of the team tasked with bringing the product to market. George called S this afternoon to deliver the bad news - after a 7-year remission, the cancer has returned. In fact, it has already metastasized. We are still in shock over the news ... I will write more about George later.

For this blessing, I am grateful.

Amen.