Simple Treats: Tuesday's Reflection

This past week my husband painted the inside of one set of kitchen cupboards and installed sliding baskets from The Container Store, making access so much easier for pots and pans and ETC. 

I was delighted, and we laughed about how it doesn't take much to make us happy. 

In their day baubles and bouquets of roses and weekends away were wonderful, but these days I am just as pleased with simpler pleasures, including ones I give myself. 

Here are some recent treats:

* Using new markers for my bullet journal and coloring books.

* Inviting friends for a casual supper and planning a menu.

* Receiving an email from the library saying a book I requested is waiting for me. Most recently, it was Heavy, An American Memoir by Kiese Laymon and earlier this year Laurentian Divide by Sarah Stonich and Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver.

* Organizing my dresser, using Marie Kondo's "tidying" methods.

*Watching a fat squirrel burrowing through the snow to get seeds from the bird feeder.

*Enjoying the scent of the lavender-rosemary candle as I read in the snug.

* Listening to "Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me" on NPR.

*Seeing granddaughter Maren swish a basketball through the hoop at her most recent game.

* Looking ahead to the coming week and events planned with both grandkids. 

*Walking at the Mall of America before stores open --no worries of ice or snow. 

*Seeing chatty emails from friends in my inbox.

* Going out for brunch after church and reading The New York Times. 

* Pulling into our garage and then walking into a warm and cozy house as the snow continues to fall.

*Teaching T'ai Chi to a group at church and feeling the energy as we open and receive from heaven.

Don't I have a luxurious life? 

I suspect you do as well. 

Sometimes we just need a reminder, especially on these cold and sometimes treacherous winter days, or on days when we feel overwhelmed by changes or challenges in our lives. 

I recently read Mary Pipher's new book Women Rowing North, Navigating Life's Currents and Flourishing as We Age (loved it!), and she ends the book this way:

           Dear sisters, I hope that we can experience bliss.
           I want us to sense how big life is--how intense,
           joyful, painful, complicated, and beautiful our lives
           can be. Let us embrace everything. This can be our
           rescue as we navigate this last stretch of the river
           with its treacherous currents, quicksand, deep clear
           waters, and silver sunsets. 

Begin by naming your simple pleasures. 

An Invitation

What simple pleasures are you noticing right now? I would love to know. 

Happy Thanksgiving: Thursday's Reflection

Being grateful opens the heart more than any other emotion, except perhaps love. (How does one separate love from gratitude anyway?) Gratitude is a habit and if we practice gratitude, we expand our heart's capacity to experience love and joy.

The Dalai Lama begins each day by saying, "I am fortunate to be alive. I have a precious human life. I am not going to waste it." I suspect he ends his day in a similar way, "I have a precious human life and how grateful I am to have lived this day."

Try beginning and ending your day with an outpouring of gratitude.  

Trust me, the more you find to be grateful for, the more you will open your heart and enhance your life, and the more you open your heart, the more you will find to be grateful for. And the more you will want to demonstrate your gratitude. Instead of this being a vicious circle, the circle of gratitude is glorious. Glorious indeed. 


I invite you to awaken your heart today to gratitude, the sister of joy. 

Happy Thanksgiving!


An Invitation
What is in your heart at the beginning and ending of each day? I would love to know. 

Gratitude: Thursday's Reflection

More than likely, you are busy today. You may be in the kitchen preparing the turkey and stuffing for dinner in your own home. Or perhaps you are baking a pie to take to someone else's home. Maybe you are on the road, heading towards family and friends. 

I promise I won't take up much of your time. I have Thanksgiving dinner to prepare, too. 
I just want to say one thing: Thank you. 

Thank you for reading this blog. Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for offering your thoughts. Thank you for your friendship, even if we have never met. Thank you for sharing my posts with your friends and helping me grow this community of readers. 

Thank you. 

         Jewish tradition gives us a goal: We should say one 
         hundred blessings each day. When we try it, we 
         discover that it's quite difficult to find one hundred
         things each day for which to be thankful. So difficult, 
         in fact, that we spend most of our time looking. 
                             Daniel I. Schwartz and Mark Hass

And now back to the turkey. 

An Invitation
Who do you need to thank today? And tomorrow? I would love to know. 

Who Will Be at Your Table? Thursday's Reflection

A week from today families and friends all across the nation will gather to give thanks and gorge on abundant amounts of food. I have a tiny kitchen, and I am not sure exactly how I am going to manage, but I will, happily so. Our children and their spouses, the grandchildren, and my father will assemble to eat and laugh and remember and give thanks, and eat some more. 

We will remember my mother and her scalloped corn and her jello salads and her pie crust. We will remember my father's oyster dressing, which I will not be making, and how every year he asked,  "Guess how much oysters cost this year."

We will remember the year our daughter-in-love's mother and father were with us, and we caught Mary turning over the turkey dinner plate to see whose pattern this was. (Johnson Brothers). We all got the giggles. Little did we know that would be her last Thanksgiving.

We will remember the year when Ralph the dog ate the apple pie, but we still had more than enough desserts to feed us all.

I will remember driving into Ohio's Amish country to get a fresh turkey at a small Amish butcher shop and then getting up early to start the roasting, good smells filling the house even before everyone got up for breakfast. 


I remember our granddaughter Maren in charge of making place cards. 

I remember setting the table. Sometimes our tablecloth on our nine foot harvest table, the centerpiece of our home at Sweetwater Farm, was a vintage blanket or quilt. As I set the table with turkey plates, crystal and silver, I blessed the space. I offered a blessing for all those who would be with us and all those who were no longer with us. I prepared for sacred time. 

I have a folder with my Thanksgiving menus from the last 10 years or so --not that the menu varies that much--and perhaps tomorrow I will make the first of many trips to the grocery store. I have ironed the vintage white napkins and thought about how to decorate the table this year. I am beginning to prepare for sacred time. 

Yes, I know each moment has a whisper of sacredness in it, and yes, I know each breath is an opportunity for gratitude, but Thanksgiving, gathering at the table, can awaken us to our many blessings. And to the sacredness of all life. 

An Invitation
What happens when you gather at the table? How do you prepare for this sacred time? I would love to know. 

Thursday's Reflection: Happy Thanksgiving!

Vintage Thanksgiving Candles on my Kitchen Windowsill

What's cooking? Is your kitchen bustling with activity? Have you discovered yet what ingredient you forgot to buy in your many trips to the grocery store, for that seems to be inevitable no matter how detailed your lists? Let's hope you can borrow from your neighbor or you can fake it and no one will know it is missing. Are you one of those people who sets your table the night before and then needs to figure out where everyone will have breakfast this morning? Are there smells in the kitchen already luring other members of the family to wander into the kitchen and say, "What smells so good?" Are you chopping and stirring and blending and peeling and buttering?  (I don't care what anyone says, this holiday requires lots of butter.) 

Does your menu reflect old and new recipes, dishes that are required because they are someone's favorite and it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without x, y, or z or is your clan a bit more adventurous? I remember one year, decades ago, when my mother relented and said I could bring a salad. I brought a spiced fruit salad served on greens and I was never asked to bring the salad again, even though I thought it was delicious. What Mom meant by salad was what my brother calls "garbage salad," which is a jello salad of some sort, but not the kind with lime jello, carrots and celery--yuk!  In our family it was not good to mess with tradition. 

My daughter-in-love, Cricket, texted this past weekend asking for my recipe for sweet potatoes and pears. She said, "I know it's in your folder somewhere." Of course, it is. In my Thanksgiving folder are menus and lists dating to 2001 when we were still living at Sweetwater Farm. I wish I had noted who was sitting at our harvest table that year. I'm sure that information and other highlights of the day are in my journal, but please don't ask me to forage in the storage room for the bin of journals from that era. Was it the year Cricket's mom couldn't resist and turned over one of my vintage turkey dinner plates to see who made it? Was it the year my Dad and a dear friend's father sat in the living room and reminisced about Thanksgivings of their youth? Surely, our dear friends who were the first to reach out to us our first fall in Ohio were at the table. Yes, they were, for I see listed on the menu is Marcia's apple pie. Was this one of the years when along with the feast a main activity was the Animal Round-Up, which meant somehow moving the llamas and sheep and goats and donkey from the fenced meadow into the barn for the winter? Oh, how I wish I had videos of that annual action! 

Memories and stories. Thanks for indulging me. I could go on and on, but you have your own memories to share, and I encourage you to do that today, as well. While you are waiting for the potatoes to boil or while you are basting the turkey, let the smells and the sights and the sounds of Thanksgivings past swirl around your kitchen as well. I know this day is a lot of work for the hostess and host, and all too quickly, we push away from the table not able to eat one more thing, but I hope your day will include time to remember, to honor the past, and, of course, give thanks for what has been and what is, and what is yet to come. 

I know all memories are not joyful, and perhaps this year is one of those years when the past weighs heavy and the present is not easy and light either. Some years the biggest challenge is knowing when the turkey is ready, but this may not be one of those years. You may find yourself gritting your teeth if a family member says a critical word or you may discover yourself in tears, realizing this may be the last year you are all together. You may be exhausted and may not be looking forward to the weeks of holiday bustling --bustling that has already begun, in fact. You may be alone--by choice or because that is the way it is. There may be people missing from your table this year or you may not be at the table.

Still, dig deep, open your heart to a shining, glowing memory. One is enough, for in that one is a glimpse of hope and wholeness and connection. Rest in the one.

This year Bruce and I will join my sister's family for Thanksgiving dinner, and I am bringing the appetizers--my spiced nut mix, a pumpkin dip for apples and gingersnap cookies, and also pesto pinwheels made with puff pastry. I will miss not having leftovers for turkey sandwiches, but maybe soon I will fix a turkey breast and have a miniThanksgiving. What's most important is being with people I love and feeling love and gratitude for all I have in my life now, as well as all the memories of love in my life. 

An Invitation
What are your first memories of Thanksgiving? What memories are like leftovers that need to be tossed? Which memories most give you pleasure and need to be shared? What memories can lead you to deeper and wider gratitude? I would love to know. 

A Bonus

Casserole of Sweet Potatoes and Pears

6 large sweet potatoes, peeled and sliced 1/2 inch thick

6 ripe pears, peeled cored and cut into 8 wedges each

1/3 cup pear brandy

1/2 cup orange juice

3/4 cup (packed) brown sugar

4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter

1/2 cup golden raisins

salt to taste

1. Place the sweet potato slices in a pot and add water to cover. Heat to boiling. Reduce the heat and simmer uncovered just until barely tender, 12-15 minutes. Drain well.

2. Preheat the over to 375.

3. Arrange the sweet potatoes and pears in alternate layers in a medium-size casserole.

4. Combine the pear brandy, orange juice, brown sugar, butter and raisins in a small saucepan. Heat over medium heat until the sugar is dissolved and the butter melted. Season with a little salt. Pour the sauce over the sweet potatoes and pears, stirring to distribute evenly.

5. Bake the casserole until lightly browned and bubbly, about 30 minutes. Serve hot. 

Makes 10-12 servings. 

Tuesday's Reflection: Giving Thanks

Does your family normally pause and give thanks before the beginning of each meal? Have you ever noticed a family in a restaurant hold hands and bow their heads and say grace before digging into their burger and fries? I don't do that, but often I whisper a blessing as I am preparing a meal for us to eat on trays in the den while we watch HGTV or a movie.

Thanksgiving seems to call for an intentional grace, a way to acknowledge the blessings in our lives, as well as the blessings of the day. 

A Sampler of Graces
Consider these:

Be present at our table, Lord.
Be here and everywhere adored.
Thy creatures bless and grant that we
May feast in fellowship with thee. 

Lord, some people have food
and no friends.
Some people have friends and no food.
We thank you that on this night we have both. 

Lord, of all, to Thee we raise
This our hymn of thanks and praise.
In the world's confusion
May we know the Grace of God.

Help us to do the things we should,
to be to others kind and good,
in all we do in work and play,
to grow more loving every day.

God is great, God is good.
Let us thank God for our food.
By God's hands we all are fed.
Give us Lord our daily bread.

Our hands we fold.
Our heads we bow.
For food and drink
We thank God now.

We give you thanks, O Lord, 
For all things bright and good,
The beauty of your world,
The bounty of your world.

Gracious God,
Thank you for the food before us,
The friends among us,
The love between us,
and Your presence among us.

Creator of the universe, you give us this gift of food to flourish us and give us life. Bless this food that you have made and human hands have prepared. May it satisfy our hunger, and in sharing it together may we come closer to one another. 

Lord, may our fellowship be the revelation of your presence and turn our daily bread into bread of life. 

O Thou,
Sustainer of our body, heart, and soul
Bless all we receive
In thankfulness.

The ritual is One.
The food is One. 
We who offer the food are One.
The fire of hunger is also One.
All action is One.
We who understand this are One. 

I love this one often recited by our grandchildren. Hear their sweet voices as you read this:
We thank Thee Lord, for happy hearts,
For rain and sunny weather.
We thank Thee, Lord, for this our food,
And that we are together.

Amen!
Your tradition may be for each person to offer something for which they are grateful or someone may lift up a personal and original prayer, but whichever grace is recited at your Thanksgiving table, may it end with a resounding AMEN! 

An Invitation
What are your memories of table graces? Do you have any favorites you wish to share? How does saying grace make a difference or does it? If saying grace is not your family's tradition, how do you think suggesting it would be received? 

Tuesday's Reflection: Focus on Gratitude

Gratitude is the most passionate transformative force in the cosmos. When we offer thanks to God or to another human being, gratitude gifts us with renewal, reflection, reconnection.
                                       Sarah Ban Breathnach

I carry the image in my heart of our granddaughter at a young age with her arms opened wide saying, "Thank you so much." I don't remember what we gave her, whether it was a birthday gift or a small "I love you" gift. No matter, for what I remember was her enthusiastic and generous ability to say "thank you." She felt it and meant it and showed it. I suspect a hug and a kiss followed the words.

When was the last time you said "thank you" with such openness and genuine appreciation? When was the last time you felt a lift of gratitude in your heart? When you felt that awareness of gratefulness, how did you express it? 

Giving Thanks
November is a month when giving thanks is part of our consciousness. We know at the end of the month the tradition is to gather with family and/or friends to not only feast, but to give thanks. It is the giving thanks that interests me right now. 

Gratitude's active partner is expressing the gratitude. Showing it. Living it. Giving it. How do you do that? What are some ways you might do that this month? 

Thoughts About Gratitude
The word "thanks" comes from Indo-European words for "think" and "thoughtfulness." The implication of that, it seems to me, is that in order to feel gratitude, we need to live with awareness, with a spirit of reflection.  Deciding to live with gratitude is a deep spiritual decision of how you want to relate with life, of adopting an attitude of not giving into life's inevitable ups and downs.

"A thankful person is thankful under all circumstances. A complaining soul complains even if he lives in paradise." Founder of the Baha'i faith

Living this way goes beyond being optimistic or a Pollyanna or in denial, or even the ability to see something positive in any situation, but instead the attitude of being ever thankful arises from an overflowing heart. 

We are grateful for the very fact of being alive. We are grateful for what was and yet will be. We are grateful for the love in our life and the love we are capable of giving. We are grateful for the breath in our body. We are grateful for our ability to feel a bit more alive each and every day. So many gifts.

And what do we do when we receive a gift? We give thanks. 

The feeling of gratitude opens the heart more than any other emotion, except perhaps love, and gratitude is the sister of joy. The more you find to be grateful for, the more you will open your heart and enhance your life, and the more you open your heart, the more you will find to be grateful for. What a wonderful circle. And in that circle of gratitude, the giver of a gift become the receiver of thanks, and the one who responds with thanks enlarges the gift. 

Gratitude as Spiritual Practice 
"Saying thank you is more than good manners. It is good spirituality." Alfred Painter

The ability to recognize life's gifts arises from what Buddhist's call "mindfulness." Gratitude as a spiritual practice (Note the word "practice.") is the intention to live in the present attentively, in order to see with the Awakened Eye of Thanksgiving. What will your Awakened Eye see this month of Thanksgiving and how will you express your gratitude for what you notice?

"Jewish tradition gives us a goal. We should say one hundred blessings each day. When we try it, we discover that it's quite difficult to find one hundred things each day for which to be grateful. So difficult, in fact, that we spend most of our time looking." Daniel I. Schwartz and Mark Hass 

Thank You
 I am so grateful to each of you for taking the time to read my blog and allowing me to enter your heart, mind, and spirit. Writing this blog is a spiritual practice for me and reminds me whenever I sit at my desk to give thanks for the opportunity to share my thoughts, hopes, and prayer.  

Thank you also for your comments and emails and for sharing my blog with others.
  
Please note that this week's Thursday meditation will focus on gratitude as a way to cultivate gratitude in your life. Watch for a new post on Thursday, November 7. 

An Invitation 
How will you live with greater gratitude this month of Thanksgiving? In what ways can you express your gratefulness?
I invite you to share your intentions by adding a comment on this blog post.  

Peter's Prayer, a post by Nancy L. Agneberg

Meet Peter, our 4 1/2 year old grandson. Everyone should have access to a 4 year old for at least a few minutes a week. Sometimes our daughter would appreciate a little less access, but I digress. Peter and his family were with us for the Thanksgiving weekend, and he was actually a good help Thanksgiving morning, helping me set the table. He decided who would get which turkey plate, and he selected napkin rings for each place setting. Finally, he arranged the vintage turkey and pilgrim candles on the table and did a mighty fine job, I must say. 
      Peter's Gift
      His real gift, however, was given the day after Thanksgiving. He was sitting at the counter having his breakfast, and I was emptying the dishwasher and fussing in the kitchen. Without any prompting whatsoever he said, "I loved yesterday."
     Three simple words. "I loved yesterday." 
      "Oh, Peter, I did, too. We all did."
      And life went on, but his words of wisdom have stayed with me, even when "yesterday" was a day that I lost my internet connection for hours and was a day when prospective buyers came to see the house and didn't take a brochure--a litmus test of interest. I admit I don't love all yesterdays, even though I know there are so many things to be grateful for each day, including the fact that I have lived from yesterday to today. 
      I have just started reading Anne Lamott's new book, Help, Thanks, Wow, The Three Essential Prayers. Now I must admit the writer in me thought, "Why didn't I think of that?" but that's quite another issue. When Peter said, "I loved yesterday," he was praying. He was saying "Thanks," to God, even though he didn't know it. But I knew it, and I know that God did, too. How lucky I was to be an eavesdropper. How lucky I am to have a 4 year old teacher. 
     Here's what Anne Lamott says,
     The movement of grace toward gratitude brings us from the package of self-obsessed madness to a spiritual awakening. Gratitude is peace. Maybe you won't always get from being a brat to noticing that it is an e. e. cumming morning out the window. But some days you will. You will go from being Doug or Wendy Whiner, with your psychic diverticulitis, able to eat only macaroni and cheese, to remembering 'i thank you God for most this amazing/ day.' 
     Reminders
     When Peter said, "I loved yesterday," he reminded me not only to be grateful for the wonders of yesterday without being stuck there, but to love today, right now, as well. No matter what is swirling around us in this moment. 
     Bruce and I are driving to St Paul today for the weekend. Tonight we will attend opening night of a play our 10 year old granddaughter Maren is in--The Best Christmas Pageant Ever--and tomorrow we will go to the magical St Olaf Christmas Festival at our alma mater, and Sunday we will bring my father home with us for a couple days. Already, I am anticipating loving those days. I'm going to be praying a lot, I think. 
     Here's the bonus, I think. Loving yesterday, loving today, loving tomorrow are all the same. 
     I love you Peter. Love, GrandNan

An extra gratitude: A few days ago I made the decision not to decorate the house for Christmas, except for some welcoming greens and lanterns on the front porch. This was not an easy decision for me because I LOVE decorating for Christmas. Once the house is fully in the holiday spirit, I am, too, and move through the shopping and sending cards and wrapping etc with less stress and strain. Because we continue to have showings, including one this morning, I decided not decorating was the prudent choice. Therefore, I was so grateful when I discovered I have a clear view of our neighbor's large Christmas tree holding court in their family room. Thick with white lights it sparkles and glows enough to fill my heart with contentment and peace. Thank you.  

Another Day in Paradise, posted by Nancy L. Agneberg

     Winter vacations, especially when you are from a cold climate, always seem to inspire the daily comment, "Well it's just another day in paradise" referring to the sunshine and warm breezes and a view perhaps of palm trees and ocean or cactus and desert. I think the statement also refers to the luxury of a time out from routine and work and yes, winter, too. 
     I've always been a winter person and do not usually feel a need for a break from winter. In fact, winter in Madison this year has been easy and we have not panted for release from the elements. No snowed-in days. No gazing out the window as the snow has piled. No listening for the snow plow or Jack, the high school kid next door who shovels our walkway. No days of keeping the fire going, the hot chocolate simmering, and the book pages turning. No days of waiting for Bruce to safely pull in the garage after a treacherous drive home. No mornings being amazed at what has happened overnight; how the world transformed. The stillness. The insulation or some might say, the isolation. No mornings of digging out or wondering how much more of the white stuff we'll get  before it ends. Never mind, the refrigerator is stocked and we are warm and safe. We have not had any of those days yet, and now we march steadily towards spring. 

     What we have had recently is several "another day in paradise" moments during our visit to dear friends in Florida.  Perfect days. For example, the day we spent at the beach. We set up our chairs and umbrellas, got out our water and books. We walked the beach and chatted with the sand sculptors.  "Which one do you like the best?" we were asked as they tallied votes in their informal contest. We were entertained by the gulls and shore birds, ever alert for a snack. We remembered days on the beach with our once young children while watching children prancing and dancing as the water tickled their toes. We let the sound of the waves lead us deeper into relaxation, and I thought about other perfect days in my life.
     Big moments like the births of our children and grandchildren and our anniversary trip to Paris last fall, but also the ordinary moments like mornings harvesting lavender at our farm in Ohio, Sweetwater Farm, or long leisurely soup and bread dinners shared at our table with good friends or an afternoon at my office desk writing. Or coloring with our grandson or playing Sorry with our granddaughter. Or waking up and seeing the early morning light spread across the sky.  Or...
     This past week our daughter-in-love buried her beloved grandmother, age 92, and now Mary knows paradise, too. We don't have to wait, however, for our own death or even vacations to experience paradise.  My definition of a perfect day may be broad, but, I think, by being grateful, by staying awake and aware, and by being present, we can each be more aware of all the perfect, "another day in paradise" moments in our everyday life.    



What have been some of your perfect moments and perfect days and experiences of "another day in paradise"? I invite you to share.  

Healthy Gratitude

     I had a colonoscopy this week. Please don't stop reading--I will share no details! Routine colonoscopy, except that I have them every five years, instead of every 10, thanks to my mother who died of colon cancer and my own cancer history. All is well, I say gratefully. I am aware of how more time is devoted to routine maintenance procedures, such as a colonoscopy, as we age. Later this month I will have a routine check with my gynecologist and then a routine mammogram. This past fall I had routine check-ups with my internist, ophthalmologist, and dermatologist. And there are the ongoing visits to the dentist--routine cleanings and not so routine crowns. Let me say loud and clear how grateful I am for the excellent insurance coverage we have through my husband's work and the superb health care providers on our team. 
     Still, there is much to think about while my body remains healthy and strong. Therefore, I offer the introduction to my as yet unpublished essay, "Sacred Sickness, An Invitation to Grow Spiritually During Illness." 


     Yesterday I had a routine mammogram. In all the years of enduring annual mammograms only twice has there been a concern. I have little memory of the first time, but the second time, which was six months after surgery for uterine cancer, an ultrasound was ordered and then a biopsy, which, thankfully, revealed no cancer. Even though that false alarm is now years in the past and even though I had no reason to suspect a current problem, I still felt a tickle of anxiety the day of my appointment.
     During my meditation time the morning of my appointment, I folded my hands across my breasts and thanked God for the nurturance they provided our babies and the sexual pleasure they have known. I offered thanks for their health and prayed, "May it be so." I offered blessings to all who have confronted breast cancer in their lives. "May your journey be filled with love and support." I remembered a long-ago friend who was always nervous about having a mammogram. We scheduled our appointments for the same time and then treated ourselves to chicken breast sandwiches afterwards. A sweet memory, and I hope all her mammograms in the years since we knew each other have been uneventful.
     I give thanks for today's technician and for all those trained to squeeze, lift, press, arrange and handle this mass of tissue. I imagined the technician's routine words. "Remain still and don't breathe." I even prayed for a technician of pre-mammogram age who many years ago brought tears to my eyes with her less than tender skill, causing lingering pains for days following the procedure. Perhaps she was having a bad day, but as I sat in my car afterwards and rocked my body, hoping to relieve the soreness, I thought less than compassionate thoughts. "May you know what it is like to be treated so coldly, so impersonally. May you cringe. May you grimace. May you dread your own mammogram appointments. May you exhale a deep sigh of 'Thank God, that's over.'" I asked for belated forgiveness and hoped I have grown in compassion since then!
     As I sat waiting to be called for my appointment, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply and widely and recalled the decision I made years ago when I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. I knew then I would do what I could do physically to eliminate the cancer from my body and to prevent its return, but I also knew my soul needed attention. How could I prevent the cancer from metastasizing into my soul?
     I called upon Spirit to accompany me on that journey. I opened myself to the experience of illness as a time to deepen my spirituality, to grow wider, deeper into my relationship with God and to live a spiritual life, healthy or sick.
     Now that I have been cancer free for many years, I say with the most grateful of hearts, I recognize that my experience with uterine cancer was a major practice session, a dress rehearsal, offering hints of what might yet be around the corner on this journey. The Buddhist tradition talks about "little deaths," or experiences that prepare us for bigger losses, including the loss of our own lives. My aging body has occasional aches and pains, and already I require more time in the health care system than when I was younger and when illness reappears, as more than likely it will in some form, I hope to meet it with a strong and wise spirit. 
     Therefore, as I sat in the waiting room, I took one more deep breath and filled my chest cavity with calm and repose and exhaled the whisper of anxiety and allowed myself to be present to this moment; a moment of health and life.