Surely some of you know the rest of that aphorism.  Because of my belief in the power of words, often stated here - words matter - I won’t be finishing the statement;  in fact today we’ll  do a test run on a new ending, give it a new spin. And I do love spin

So if I say No Good Deed Goes Unrewarded, what do you think?    The question becomes unrewarded by whom. It doesn’t matter. Since I operate under the belief system that says you don’t work your way to your final resting place, the reward for a good deed is internal.  You saw something, you addressed it, and you know in your heart that you did a good thing.

The person or persons for whom you did this good thing may or may not even realize it.  Doesn’t matter. Let me clarify, it doesn’t matter on an outward level.  Here we go again, semantics.  You bet, I love it So where does it matter? Inside, inside you and that’s what counts in this discussion.

Every time you take the opportunity to  do a “good deed” however small, it matters in you.  Note I say IN you, not to you.  We grow every time we take an opportunity to make a difference, something as small as smiling at the elderly man for whom you hold the door, every time you offer an encouraging word or turn aside an angry retort.  It matters IN you and that’s why I’m pretty comfortable saying that No Good Deed Goes Unrewarded.

The reward is the growth that comes inside because you stepped out and did it.  That’s what matters.  Keep doing it and you will keep doing it.  It’s a mindset, a way of looking at the world, a philosophy, if you will. Go on out and have a fabulous day and when you have the chance (not IF, WHEN) take it.  Look for these opportunities - they’re everywhere.  Here’s to growing as we go …..

À plus tard

An uneventful flight; actually, travel was very good.  This Delta/Northwest merger has resulted in a very classy airline.  The service was excellent, personnel very professional, very helpful. Compared to some of the service we’ve experienced in the last year, this rates very well!

A year ago on Dec. 23, I was sitting at O’Hare, full of folks who’d been stranded for up to two days by Midwest weather on a busy holiday.  This year I changed two things:   I’m traveling earlier, December 20th instead of the 23rd and I avoided Chicago.  The plane change in Detroit was a walk in the park and we arrived in Columbia EARLY!  That’s a nice change of pace for air travel.

I’m comfy at the Barnes & Noble where Meghan works part-time, a stack of cookbooks on Southern cooking at my side.  This is about as good as it gets, my child within reach, bright blue skies, people wearing light jackets as opposed to the four layers I had on when arriving.  The only thing better would be having my ErinLee here as well, but I’m thankful for what I’ve got.

We’ve been to Meghan’s house, so I’ve finally seen her new home.  I teased her that not only is she a homeowner, she has landscaping, something called monkey grass, ivy and a flowering plant I’ll have to investigate.  We’ve already identified a couple projects to do together and I offered to put her new rake to good use when she’s at work.  I’ll need the exercise as we’ve already eaten well and are planning our next meal

It doesn’t look like Christmas outside, but there’s Christmas music in the air and decorations all around.  While it’s weird not to have snow, this is pretty awesome.

So it’s almost Christmas.  I hope you’re all where you want to be, with those you love and who love you.  I’ll be back in a bit.

It got ugly out there.  I have a friend who’d call it “wicked cold.”  She’s from the East and apparently that’s a colloquialism and her adjective of choice.    I call it BRUTAL and realize all-caps equals shouting in cyber-English, but that’s my way of letting you know that it did indeed get ugly.  As so often happens, along with the ugly, we get a flash of awesome!!  Reference my posts last year about Sparkles, here in Wisconsin and on the beach in South Carolina.

What I got the other day was much more than a sparkle - it was a most spectacular opportunity!   I saw the wind. Yep, I said that I saw the wind, first time ever, and I’ve seen lots of weather in lots of places.  This was a most beautiful upside of a most ugly weather day.

It was so cool, so awesome, breath-taking actually.  I wish I’d been able to photograph it, but my memory  will have to serve.  I was watching the weather out a window, facing north, snow  blowing like crazy.  All of a sudden what appeared to be a huge wave of snow, came around the corner of the big shed.  As I described it to my daughters, it was bigger than anything we’ve seen live in the ocean,  like those huge waves you see on television in the surfing competitions.

I swear, this wave of snow came around that building and moved  across my yard, into the field.  It was incredible, taller than the shed and wide, so very wide.  I watched this wave moving along and I was stunned by the force that could do that and hope I’m even close to portraying the sight.

Those who know me well will understand, knowing my fascination with “big” weather :)    This spoke volumes to me.  Two days later as I write this, I’m still thrilled to have been watching at the right time.

Were there other gusts of wind?  I’m sure there were seeing as that’s one of the criteria for blizzard. But I choose to believe that this was a gift to me, a reminder of this amazing creation  in which we live and even more, of the gift to me of this place, this homestead that means so very much to me.

The lesson here - you know there’s got to be one - is thankfulness.  In the darkest of times, there is always something for which I’m thankful.  This has been a week of blessings despite the weather and I’m going to close here, a very thankful woman.

Someone close to me lost someone close to her over the weekend.  Totally unexpected while on a trip ten years in the making.  In an instant a father, husband and best friend of 28 years, is gone and a wife is alone in the woods with her husband’s body, trying desperately to save him with CPR.  Two mornings later, 5:00 a.m., my daughter calls to say she’s at the airport, checked in and ready to fly to NYC for a fabulous six days with a special aunt!  And what does someone say to me?  Didn’t you hear about the terrorist threat in New York?  Sure I did.  I don’t go there, don’t allow myself to think that way.  Any one of us could be gone in an instant, like my friend’s loved one.  Do we stop living, stop traveling, cower in our homes against something “bad” happening?  No we don’t, we can’t.  What do we do?  We love with all our hearts, hold our loved ones close in our hearts, never hesitate to tell someone you love them and how precious they are to you.

Having survived a potentially terminal illness,  an abusive marriage and two brain surgeries and having my beloved daughters on opposite coasts, you learn to walk in faith and trust and to tuck those conversations and memories deep into your heart, to treasure them.  You don’t hang up the phone in anger and you always make a point of letting the other person know how much they mean to you, how special they are!

Because we’re afraid?  No way.  Because it’s important to speak the words.  My daughter in NYC for the next week, my older daughter in Seattle all the time, my brother and his family in the rolling hills of Kentucky, my loved ones within 40 miles, friends literally around the globe - all are special, all are precious - you’re loved and treasured and I’ll be making a point to let you know next time we talk, if I haven’t already.

Say the words and hold the memories, voices, smiles, tucked away close to your heart.  That would be the lesson to take  from my friend’s loss.  Don’t dwell; act and move forward with love and joy in your heart and spoken out of your mouth.

à bientôt …….

Okay, it sounds good, but not happening here and not likely to for a while.  So I’m at my computer in my jammies, not yet 7 a.m., playing one of my standard  fire-me-up songs in the background as I review my plan for the day - attack algebra once again, then on to my Old Testament homework, but first a quick run to the farmer’s market, a favorite place, more so today, having received a beautiful new field guide from my bookseller daughter, Meghan.  A couple errands in town, and hopefully at least a few swipes around part of the yard on the lawn tractor in a beautiful September sun - note the optimism :)  Could it get too hot today?  Not for me.  Eighty degrees?  I’m lovin’ it - we didn’t have it most of the so-called summer in the Northwoods, so I’ll take every degree of it with a grin and I won’t be cold!!  Probably not seeing the cousins today, did last week and visited my favorite Auntie Arlene on Thursday, so up until 5:45 when I leave for Celebrate Recovery, the group I facilitate on Saturday nights, I’ll be moving, but feeling great, loving life, living and growing throughout the day.  Lazy? No, but sounds like a wonderful Saturday for me.  I’m off …..

So I’m thinking about limits today.  I have a time limit in which to finish this first semester, looming large at the end of this week.  Twitter limits the number of characters you can post; there are speed limits with some fairly large consequences - found that out recently, too.  Sometimes we limit ourselves through our actions, thoughts or words, there’s one to avoid.

The old saying is “The sky’s the limit.”  Google the phrase and you don’t find who originally said it; apparently at some time it was a song title and even the title of a piece of art. Must be one of those public domain things, but I came across a great response:  Don’t tell me the sky is the limit - there are footprints on the moon!!! And that is actually found in a song, whether it’s original, I don’t know, but it’s out there.

Shorten it up and it’s got a great beat - say it out loud, put it in 4/4 time - Don’t tell me the sky’s the limit; there’s footprints on the moon.  You could march to that one and have fun doing it

And there’s a thought to carry me through the rest of the day; you, too, perhaps.  Beats the daylights out of limiting ourselves in thought, word or deed.  Are you marching?                     Be well….

T

Where does the time go? So many things happening every day.  An incredible second chance for beloved family members - a second chance at creating the best possible family together in a place that they love.  For me, confirmation again of victory over illness, a second chance for sure.  And back to school, not the season, but for me, for real.  I’m in college again and lovin’ it!  It’s exciting, totally challenging and just plain good for me.  Talk about a second chance!!!

Life is good, even when it’s crazy busy.  If we always remember from whence we came ( couldn’t find who said that)  we can only be grateful, even at the craziest times.  As I said to someone lately, do we or do we not serve the God of second chances.  Yes we do and I’m living proof!!

How many chances have you had?  And what are you doing with them?  Be well…

This will be quick, just to throw the thought out there - how many second chances does a person get?  I’ve sure been blessed with my share.  It’s kind of like a cosmic Do-Over though I choose to believe that they come from a very specific place, Person, if you will.  I believe in the God of second chances and I am living proof, quite literally.

As I have to go out the door in a moment, that’s it for now.  But work this around in your brain and heart and we’ll talk again.

How many second chances have you had?  Do you recognize them for what they are?  How have you used them?  How will you use them?

Stay Tuned as we dig into this thought.                                             au revoir

Another week has flown by.  The weekend with old friends is already a week in the past and  the first week of a new adventure is now history!  As my Meghan would say, “Holy cats!!”

The four days up north were wonderful.  Good friends, lots of laughs, fun in the sun and GREAT food.  We do know how to eat very well - as in good for you and just plain good.

I came home and started school.  You bet, after over 30 years I’ve returned to school - college  - online no less.  Last time I went off to college with an electric typewriter and that was high tech.  This time I’m not even physically going anywhere thanks to the Internet.  It’s been a fantastic, fun, challenging and funny week.  I’ve written two essays, taken four quizzes and one exam. Had to e-mail professors with numerous questions, mostly tech-related and then negotiated my way through a Help Desk and “met” all kinds of new classmates from all walks of life.  All without ever seeing a human being and often in the comfort of my jammies

Moving into Week Two and my first major paper.  I have much of it in my head, but getting it into a Word document, properly formatted, now that will take time out of each of the next several days.   So true to the title, this is short and sweet because at 1:30  a.m. I do need to get some sleep.  Bonne nuit….

Note:  I began drafting this post a few days after the passing of another of the Homestead’s children, my aunt/godmother.   I’d like to expand on it now and honor her memory.

A time to mourn and a time to dance;  that’s the complete phrase.  Not an original title by any means, but so appropriate.  Another of the ten children born in this old house, the Buelow homestead, has passed on.  My Aunt Henrietta, named after her mother, my Grandma Buelow, was taken home - fairly unexpectedly.   She was my the youngest of the ten children in my father’s family and I hate to say it, this leaves him as the sole survivor of that family, the last living person who was born in this old house.

Back to my Aunt Henrietta, the unexpected passing of a woman loved by many - her husband, children, grandchildren, nieces,nephews and her last remaining sibling, my father.  Another reminder that there is indeed a time.

Mourning is different depending on the relationship.  I’d never claim my loss as being close to that of her children.  For me it’s more about the passing of time, the passing into history of someone I knew and loved.  I’m a traditionalist - history and tradition are important to me.  History  reminds me where we’ve been and the rich heritage  and hardy stock from  which  I come.  Tradition, as I tell my daughters, is the glue that binds us together.

And we’ll continue these thoughts in Part Two.