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What was in the wind?

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It flew by me so fast I didn’t see it.

It was certainly a surprise that the wind would carry something so
fast.

But the actuality is that wind is simply a reflection of what we all
see with each passing day as we walk in front of the looking glass.

One day, we are a small child busy rushing to go outside and play.

Before we turn around, we are off to college, sometimes paying more
attention to what’s in the looking glass in hopes we might catch
someone else’s eye.

Then perhaps marriage and children and the glass reflects the wider
view to accommodate the added numbers.

As the gales come and go, we weather the storms of life.

The wind keeps blowing touching upon our hair bringing it touches of
gray and circling our mid-drift leaving a few pounds we did not want
left behind.

One day, we look around and wonder where it all went – the years,
the friends, the children. We see wind cross the glass and there
stands someone who we barely know. Perhaps its our father or mother,
or one of our grands looking back out at us.

The winds of time have passed our face so many times, the skin sags
downward.

No matter how much we pull upon it, we are unable to take away the
wind’s impact.

Some of us even see our hair flying along with the stream as it
let’s go from the strain of the force.

But no matter how fast it seems the wind pushes upon the streams of
our life, we are ultimately riding a similar breeze as everyone who
has come before and millions who walk along beside us.

We may guide how we accept the blowing winds, take them in stride and
realize that while the looking glass may not always reflect what we
desire, within our own head, we are who we always desired to be.

Of course realizing, that no one else has to live within our looking
glass image. When we accept that, then we can smile back at ourselves
knowing that we our holding strong upon our sails and guiding our
vessel in the direction we hope.

So, what was that, that flew by, just another day, another month,
another year, in the winds of time.

Let us ride them happily, hopefully and graciously towards our
destination beyond the looking glass.

Flour, a broom and a lesson on being needed

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As I look down at the flour on the floor and the straw of the broom as it meets the floor at the edge of heap, I swiftly move it through the white powder. In the motion, my mind sweeps over my memories and I find myself standing beside the table in my boyhood home.

My Grandma Kitty is standing at the end of the broom sweeping flour that I had managed to spill as we were preparing biscuits and getting ready to bake a batch of cookies.

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Can the wisdom of a lifetime be shared?

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I was out buying tomato plants for the garden the other day and it brought back memories of my thirteenth Summer. I was in Boy Scouts and took on a project to teach crafts at Ashton Woods Convalescent Center a few miles from my home. I remember being excited to get to teach leatherwork and other crafts to the residents. While a few took part, I remember after a while my interest turned from teaching to learning.

Many of my free hours at the center were spent helping Mr. Farnell with the community vegetable garden. He was confined to his wheelchair, but with his knowledge and my arms, we raised an outstanding garden that year. I don’t think I’ve ever been that successful with tomatoes, peppers, squash and the like. That Summer he shared with me many stories of his life, his work with A&P grocery. But largely he taught me how to appreciate the beauty of life. The joy of helping God make something grow.

Many of the gardening techniques he shared with me are still with me today.

Many of the residents made a lasting impression on me that year.

Mrs. McMahan was a simple joy to be around. She was the type of person who could just make you smile when she walked in the room. In spite of her battles with bad health, her outlook was always uplifting. From her I learned that even the worst day can be faced with a smile.

Mr. And Mrs. Boxley both lived in the center. To me they seemed like a wonderful couple. They both had a spirit to enjoy life. They took each moment and did all they could with it. They both shared a passion for bird watching. They shared it with me. I still have a bird book Mrs. Boxley gave to me after Mr. Boxley passed away. Yesterday I saw a most unique bird with blue back and crimson front. There’s not a day that I see a bird I’ve never seen before they those two don’t cross my mind.

Mrs. Petit was one of the first severe stroke patients with which I spent time. She had lost the use of one side of her body and spoke only with great effort. I learned the importance of perseverance from her. No matter what craft project we undertook, she made every effort to do her part.

There were dozens of patients that Summer who I met and who became a part of my childhood. Many shared with me bits and pieces of their knowledge, their wisdom. Many were glad to share the company of a young person who was sincerely interested in them.

A boy scout project brought me there, but it was the people who kept me coming back for years to come. Eventually the folks I had grown close to were all called home. I often wish we could visit today, talk about where I’ve been and how they played a part in making me who I am today. I guess they are with me, even though I cannot speak with them. They speak to me in memories, in the things they taught me. When I’m digging in the garden to plant the tomatoes, I can still envision Mr. Farnell sitting next to me saying “Dig a little deeper son, those roots need room to grow.”

I often wonder what wisdom I will leave on this earth once I’m gone. Who will remember the things that were important to me? Will I leave a legacy of Wisdom? I hope so, because within me, there are so many people who I would like to see live on in what I share.

If you have never took the time to visit with older members of your family, church, community. I encourage you to spend some time with them. Listen to their stories, even though you think you may have heard them a thousand times. When they are gone, you will struggle to bring those moments back in your mind. You may even wish you had written the wisdom they shared down.

Often times with the people that we see the most, we neglect to cherish the times and wisdom they are sharing.

Wisdom can be shared. It can be passed from one to another, if only we are open to learning. Sometimes, only with age the wisdom of what has been shared with us will become apparent. But it is never too early to start accumulating shared wisdom. Someday it will come in handy.