I will participate in online exercise classes as if I was in the room with the instructor, clapping, snapping and breathing or shouting. I will drink water as if it was the nourishment that it is, and not just a necessary evil to help me swallow my pills. I will eat my food with curiosity – what texture is that exactly? Do I really need more salt? I will listen to the news, to the birds, and to music as if it was a prayer. I will explore my digital device that is driving me crazy as if it is something to be discovered, rather than an irritant to be conquered. I will read and rest for the joy of this time in my life – because I can. And give thanks.

It happens especially in the mornings when and if I’m on my back porch – the birds, the breeze, the temperature/humidity, the bunnies, the flowers, my coffee. But it also happens in the routines of daily houseliving – laundry, handwashing dishes, vacuuming, dusting (the smells and sounds of cleaning make me grateful to have a house and home to clean), the cooking and eating,. In the Texas sun and heat, the sun bears down on my skin and reminds me of all the work the sun does to enable our world to exist. In the more rural nighttime sky the stars remind me of my place in the universe.

There are all kinds of situations that lead to “the hardest times of life”. Each has brought different learnings for me. From some I have learned honesty with myself – what role if any did I play in bringing about this situation and what can I learn from that? From some I learned compassion, usually from those who practiced compassion with me. And still others, I learned fortitude, tenacity, and persistence – drawing on how I have seen others handle challenges in their lives. And I don’t know that self-care is a strength of character, but I have learned that it is very important to me surviving well in the hardest times of my life – a decent diet, healthy activity, prayer/meditation/, a hobby or something that is gratifying for my soul.

So here’s the deal. Growing up as a good Christian girl in the south in the late 50’s, 60’s and early 70’s, the youngest of 3 sisters, one of whom was always very vocal and usually got in trouble for it, I learned to keep my mouth shut, and to keep out of sight as much as possible – to not react to anything I felt, saw, or heard. It has taken a lot of years for me to even feel my feelings, and learn that I have a voice to express those feelings, whether for myself or others. Once that box was opened, though it was like Pandora’s. It was almost out of control. Speaking before thinking; acting before processing. Now in my 60’s I am still only learning how to pause. It is not easy, when you are determined to never be silenced again. But experience tells me – it’s all about the pause.

Mostly I have experienced forgiveness is ways that were forgiving. When people – mostly friends and family, kept loving and accepting me when my words or behavior were unacceptable. Mostly no one said, “I forgive you for saying that.”, nor did it generally come after I asked for forgiveness, unless it was an “I’m sorry” slung out in frustration or anger. No – mostly the people I truly care about and who truly care about me have just loved me in spite of myself. Is that a form of forgiveness? What I have learned from that is that forgiveness is a way of life – both giving and receiving.

I’m thinking of public figures – Kevin mentioned Pres. Jimmy Carter and I agree. Others mentioned Nelson Mandela and the Dalai Lama. Thinking of women I would add Maya Angelou and maybe Michelle Obama and Laura Bush. To me these are all people who exude a confidence, peace and joy in the face of tragedy, crisis and call to action. I want to come up with someone I know personally who is or has been a role model for me in this regard, but no one is coming to mind. I’ll have to ponder this.

My two best friends, well we have been best friends since childhood. So part of what we share is history, family, lifetime knowledge of who we were and who we are, generationally. Not all friendships are like that, nor should they be. This just happens to be the case for us and it’s a large part of what gives us our loyalty and faithfulness. We are not bound by blood or family as we are not sisters, so we don’t share the same familial DNA, and that’s what gives us our variety and allows us to bring both freshness and familiarity to the connection.

Among so many, my Aunt Lucille, whom I didn’t really get to know closely until she was in her late 80’s – early 90’s. The stories she told me about my daddy’s family, about her life as a young career woman, her role as an aunt to me, my sisters and our 4 cousins, as she and her husband had no children, her life with Uncle John, and the opportunity I had to come do a tiny bit of care-taking of her in her last days. All that changed my understanding of who I was in our family and of who women are and can be in general.

The beauty that is here in the present moment is that it is here in the present moment. I don’t have to long for it in the past or future. I am breathing it, seeing it, smelling it, listening to it, feeling it, hearing it right now. Today, right now that includes the very slightest breeze on my back porch where the temp and humidity are already high (I live in Texas). The birds are singing – they don’t seem to mind the heat or humidity. Texas Star hibiscus are blooming, bees are buzzing around other flowering plants, tomatoes and cucumbers are filling my garden, and amid this pandemic, as I lift in love those who have lost their lives or loved ones, those who are battling the virus as patients, care-givers or researchers, mask-wearers and physical-distances, decision-makers and planners, I pray they, too can find beauty in the present moment to center their souls, calm their spirits, and encourage their hearts.