I took an ethics class this summer as part of my coursework for my future degree. It stretched me. Each week, I felt SO uneducated and the words were far beyond what my mind could grasp. I remember Mom talking about reading hard stuff, and she would have to read and then re-read, and then re-re-read, just to make some sense out of the concepts. When taking an online class, a student does not have the luxury of raising their hand or staying after class to get some 1:1 time with the instructor. So, I read. And then I re-read. And re-re-read. And still my mind had difficulty. I started this post a couple weeks ago, because something in my textbook actually began to make sense as I learned about utilitarianism, ethical egoism, deontology…and it made me think a lot.

I remember a mission trip I took with a group of students to the Dominican Republic, and our guide for the week talked about this quite a lot. People go to “the mission field,” hoping to help and influence and “plant seeds,” but end up coming home changed and realizing that those we intended to help, actually influenced and planted seeds within us, instead.

I read this quote somewhere, but I am not sure who to attribute it to: “If I serve you because of how it makes me feel, then I am actually serving me.”

Mind blown.

Don’t do anything for selfish purposes, but with humility think of others as better than yourselves. Instead of each person watching out for their own good, watch out for what is better for others. – Philippians 2:3-4 (CEB)

So today, I am grateful for powerful moments of clarity and education.

I am grateful for air conditioning and indoors.

I am grateful for a reminder of what servanthood actually means and how we end up twisting that Christ-like quality into something very self-serving.

I am grateful for boxes of Crumbl Cookies to share at Bingo, thanks to Katrina.

I am grateful for last week in one of our favorite places on earth, about 10,000 above sea level.

I am grateful Sam was able to ride motorcycles all week long and see beautiful things while getting a little dirty.

I am grateful for the opportunity to go on a couple short drives so I could also see some mind blowing beautiful things that were not just pictures.

I am grateful my phone didn’t completely run out of storage on the trip.

I am grateful for a nice cell phone rep who convinced us to wait for the newest version before trading up, benefiting us in the long run, rather than his paycheck right now.

I am grateful for a group of Friends who include Dad every Wednesday evening, and included me last night.

I am grateful that God is in charge and I really don’t have to worry about UAPs and all the things that tend to blow my mind.

I am grateful for cousin Valerie who thinks about me and sends a text.

I am grateful Keith is going to be okay after his motorcycle met a deer.

I am grateful for a real life example of servanthood as I watch Fran take care of our friends.

I am grateful I will get to see her and our friends tonight at Bingo.

And I am grateful Ethics is over and 3 more hours are in the completed column.

This early morning, I am grateful for so many things.

Before the day began yesterday to start the week, a bird was the first song I heard as I opened my eyes and saw the introduction of light through the blinds.

It was Monday morning, and Sam opened windows and turned on the attic fan to let in unseasonable fresh, cool air for a mid-July morning.

We reflected for a moment on the very nice weekend that included no Ethics homework but instead, 1) a beautiful, cloudy, cool Saturday morning at the farmer’s market, 2) dinner out, just the two of us for a change, 3) time spent with my brother and Dad, 4) a few hours to catch up on one of our favorites, Blacklist.

At one point during the weekend, I was sitting at the piano, playing some hymns for my peace, and when I finished, I realized Dad was sitting in the room listening. “I needed that today.” So did I, Dad, so did I.

It was such a nice weekend.

Funny thing though, this Tuesday morning, summer has returned like an unwanted electric blanket.

But that cardinal was just as happy today as yesterday.

I am not a fan of summer. Or humidity. Or mosquitoes and chiggers and ticks. Or clothes that show how squishy and untanned I am. I am a fan of fans. And air conditioning. And shade. And a dry breeze. And Avon Skin-so-Soft or Deep Woods Off.

I was just reading in Philippians 4, because that cardinal seemed to be a message I needed right now. “I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.” – The Message version

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come?
Why should my heart feel lonely, and long for heaven and home?
When Jesus is my portion, a constant friend friend is He,
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches over me.

I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free!
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I want to be like that early morning cardinal. Content no matter my circumstances, no matter the “weather” of the moment.

***********

I am grateful for blessings of unseasonable weather gifts.

I am grateful for time spent with my brother – happy birthday, Dwight!

I am grateful for every moment I have with my Daddy, because those moments will one day be memories.

I am grateful for a light at the end of the tunnel for this summer class and I am also grateful for a stretching of my thoughts and beliefs.

I am grateful for the opportunity to pursue this higher education, even if I am 40 years late to class.

I am grateful for time spent with Sam, just the two of us.

I am grateful when June bugs stay over there, far, far away from over here.

And I am grateful for the way God speaks to me sometimes, like through the song of a cardinal outside my window.

I was walking this morning as the sun came up, with a book in my ear and a nice cool breeze on my face this late June day. It does not matter how great the book (and this one happens to be great great three chapters in), I inevitably have to pull my phone out of my pocket and hit the rewind button 30 seconds back because my mind is easily distracted.

A fellow walker/jogger/biker goes by and I must consciously greet them or comment on their dog.

Rats. What did he just say? Rewind.

A stray sprinkler head makes me step out into the street so my shoes don’t get wet.

The teacher did what at the beginning of class? Grrrr. Missed it. Rewind.

The morning newspaper is tossed too short and I immediately begin to think about how easy it is to define the age of the occupants of that home – paper delivery is almost a thing of the past, and only those who know what rotary dial phones and party lines are still subscribe to actual newspaper delivery service.

Wait. Who is Henry? How did I not catch who Henry was? Back, back, back, back, back.

Something the author mentions suddenly makes me irritated at the people who post on social media with messages to their 3-year-olds who are having a birthday like they actually log on to Facebook and will see the message or post a message to their long lost fill-in-the-blank pet about how much they are missed – when everyone knows that obviously they are NOT posting to the child or the pet. They just want everyone to see pictures and acknowledge the cuteness or the sadness. It is like duck lips Houlihan “look at me” pictures via way of children and pets.

Oh yeah, the book. Rewind, again.

Some days are more distracting than others. Sometimes I am distracted by the incredible cloud formations that catch the peachy pinks of sunrise. Other times, it is the neighborhood fox that is running across a yard. Unfortunately, sometimes it is a spider web that I walk into because I am engrossed in such a great book. If anyone out here sees me in spider web crisis mode, they will have to hit the rewind 30 seconds, too. Nothing like reality to get you to focus.

I am grateful tonight for anticipation of walking after I take this midterm so I can rewind and catch up on what I missed this morning in chapter 3 when I saw my husband sitting on the front porch as I turned the corner.

I am grateful for people who actually read newspapers in this house so I can wash my windows with materials that do not leave streaks.

I am not so grateful for spider webs in my face or June bugs freaking me out.

But if I time it right, I will finish this midterm just in time to see the sun set as another distraction, so I can begin chapter 3 all over again in the morning. For that, I am grateful.

12 years ago, my parents sat at the kitchen table on one of my darkest days, and Dad, in rare form, talked about a particular passage of scripture that was so fitting of my situation. I doubt he remembers, but it was a profound conversation and has stuck with me all these years.

And “don’t sin by letting anger control you.” Don’t let the sun go down while you are still angry, for anger gives a foothold to the devil. If you are a thief, quit stealing. Instead, use your hands for good hard work, and then give generously to others in need. Don’t use foul or abusive language. Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them. And do not bring sorrow to God’s Holy Spirit by the way you live. Remember, he has identified you as his own, guaranteeing that you will be saved on the day of redemption. – Ephesians 4:26-30 (emphasis thanks to Dad)

If you know my Dad at all, you know that he is quiet and a man of few words, polar opposite of my Mom. I suppose that is one reason they worked well together. Mom did the talking, Dad did the listening. Even when Mom would hand Dad the phone, “Here, talk to your daughter,” Dad did more of the listening while I babbled on about the week’s events.

He doesn’t say a lot, and he never has, so when he has something to say, his family listens. It has always been that way…

Today, I am grateful for that conversation 12 years ago on one of my darkest days.

I am grateful for memory recall.

I am grateful for the reminder that words matter.

I am grateful my Dad listens – internally and externally.

I am grateful for the times when Dad has something to say.

I am grateful for another Father’s Day with him.

And I am grateful that putting a puzzle together is right down his alley: it doesn’t require too many words – just a little time, mediocre eyesight, and Delmar-like patience.

Holy toilet shame, Batman.

I needed to take a kitchen bag of trash to the dumpster last night and decided to fill it up with other trash in the not-too-taxing vicinity, because…laziness. I walked into the hall bath that is next to the kitchen and was immediately mortified.

The previous evening, some dear friends happened to stop by after their evening out, and Julie asked to use our bathroom. THAT is where my mind went when I saw the state of my lack of attention to regular and constant cleaning.

I live with two men who use this particular bathroom on a regular basis. I, however, rarely visit the room unless I am in need of a tissue or am in hyper cleaning mode on a random cleaning Saturday. I now know that I should NEVER assume my men have the mind or cleaning habits of June Cleaver, and as of last night, I will always assume the opposite.

Doesn’t everyone clean the mirror and erase any evidence of water drops each time they look in it? Doesn’t everyone wipe down the counters, sink, and the faucet until they shine after ALWAYS washing their hands before leaving the bathroom? Doesn’t everyone scan the bowl and both sides of the lid for unmentionable evidence of use and then ELIMINATE that evidence with the cleaning tools and products that happen to be RIGHT THERE?! Doesn’t everyone take a couple squares of toilet paper to wipe down the back of the toilet lid AFTER they close said lid?

Horrification, I tell you.

I may not be June Cleaver, but I am certainly grateful I was raised by Grace who taught me how to clean and how to be appropriately ashamed and remorseful.

I am grateful for friends who ignore the revulsion, don’t say a word, and love us anyway.

And, I am grateful for the two adorable Ward Cleavers in my house who do not realize June was an actress playing a part – I am CERTAIN Universal Pictures hired a cleaning crew.

It’s a great start to the day when you get out of your vehicle at work and notice a little duck in the parking space next to you. It’s the everyday clothes kind of grateful, but it is also the unexpected grins gratefuls, too.

I was grateful when I opened my computer to a sweet message from boss who wanted to appreciate her employees today.

I will be grateful when lunch arrives, courtesy of bosses.

I am grateful my grandson is feeling better today.

I am grateful for the life of my high school close friend, Kris. She impacted many lives, including mine, and her influence will live on for generations. I can sense her complete joy today as she experiences Heaven and sees Jesus…

I am grateful for all my husband is doing to get our home ready for my dad’s arrival.

I am grateful I only have one assignment due tonight.

I am grateful for the dread panic I feel about big projects due in both classes on Sunday – dread panic is MOTIVATION, ALL CAPS.

I am grateful for the reminder this morning on the way to work from Crowder, who reminded me that God really loves me.

And I am grateful for people who pronounce days with dees.

It’s Wensdy, but Frahdy’s just around the corner.

I was talking to my boss a few days ago. We were having girl talk at the end of a work day. I don’t remember the details, but I do remember telling her about my makeup. Four things total, and I buy them from the pharmacy chain down the street, not the makeup counter at the nice department stores, not the high end stores that make a major dent in my bank account.

Mascara, eye shadow, blush, and a lipstick. That’s it.

Simple.

She told me about her closet full of really nice dressy clothes that she never wears. She prefers to wear the comfortable every day kind of clothes now.

I have taken a long break from counting every last thing. I have allowed my life to become caught up in…life. It affects my attitude and my outlook, and I must do better. I need to take time to notice the simple things. I need to rediscover that I am surrounded by a limitless hope in the ordinary that is overlooked and ignored and taken for granted.

As I walk this morning in the perfect Kansas City spring day, I am grateful for:

• Tree shadows that create art on the parking lot
• The flit of a squirrel tail
• Birds that sing God’s praise
• Dandelion beauty
• The ability to walk and take a break from my work inside
• The contrast between the sky blue, puffy white clouds, and bright spring green of the tree’s everyday clothes
• Rustling in the bushes, evidence of some creature that was startled by my presence
• Helicopter seeds that are scattered like rose petals in a bridal aisle
• Smiles
• Cool air hitting my nostrils as I walk
• The last remaining daffodil holding on to the spotlight of the stage
• Moments to surround myself with limitless hope and notice every last thing

I am also grateful that my Dad had minor surgery. That sounds horrible, I know. However, because he had this surgery, he needs some assistance with wound care, and that gives me the opportunity to see him every day, even if just for a few minutes.

I am grateful that he doesn’t live very far away, and in three more days, we will live under the same roof, which makes me doubly grateful.

I am grateful for a comfortable office chair.

I am grateful for a light at the end of the tunnel and feeling educated in technical writing and the psychology of aging, and I guess I am grateful that I am a Jayhawk.

I am grateful for ice cubes in my drinking water.

These may not be what some would consider high-end gratefuls – nothing earth-shattering, shout-it-from-the-mountaintops.

But they are awe-inspiring.

Comfortable, everyday clothes kinds of gratefuls that I have been taking for granted. Simple, usually ignored “cosmetic aisle” kinds of gratefuls. Gratefuls that should be acknowledged, worn, and applied. I will do better.

I am grateful for quiet majesty and worship when I look at the vast sky in this picture and remember the sound of the sunset breeze.

*****

I don’t know what it is about Chinese food and French fries when it comes to my stomach. It is a bottomless pit. I do not have a “full stop” button inside and that is not a good thing.

I am grateful when I eat a piece of chicken in my Chinese that doesn’t taste quite right, because that is the only reason I stop eating. Fries are good every which way – cold, hot, limp, crisp, burnt, raw…and I need a governor.

I am grateful for the beauty of a Flint Hills Cattle Pens winter.

*****

The IT guy from our office has a challenging job, keeping a small group of 50+ year-olds in tune with their computers and all the equipment that goes along with technology. He is often not on our “nice list” and is the topic of much grumbling. He has this attitude, and we all feel it. We may be aging, we may be technologically on the lower end of things, but we aren’t STUPID, and yet, we all feel very STUPID when he enters the picture and tries to explain processes to us. All that to say,

Thanks A LOT, J.

I like my microwaved eggs just so, every morning. JUST SO.

J called this morning when I was the only one here, right when I pushed start on the microwave, and my OCD-ness HAD to answer the ring that was on the other side of the kitchen.

I am grateful for rubber eggs. They are slightly better than no eggs at all.

*****

I am grateful for a very funny line in the show, “Will Trent” that I heard this morning as I walked and watched. You should watch the show. It is smart sarcasm funny cops and robbers and one of my favorites these days. Anyway, Will blew his nose into a handkerchief, and the guy standing next to him was stunned. “You blow your nose in that thing and then keep it in your pocket all day?” I laughed out loud.

I am grateful for funny lines, “Will Trent,” and throw away tissues, as long as tissues get thrown away.

*****

I am grateful for the completion of Personal Finance, for the perseverance to conquer Psychology of Aging and Technical Writing, for graded projects, and for moments of momentum.

I am grateful for the realization that comes with depression as I read my Psychology of Aging text and read about myself, in and amongst these 19 and 20-somethings who only know what they read. I read what I KNOW, and it is enlightening and depressing all in one chapter at a time.

I am grateful to be going back to school, even if it is KU. I will walk across that stage someday…

*****

I am grateful for my family – 2023 must be the year of family. My calendar is full, and that is a good thing.

I am grateful for life that continues its twists and turns. Who knew 2023 would provide so much excitement and change…

Back in the early 2000’s, my Dad was the windshield MASTER. Put a squeegee in his hand with some fresh water and detergent, and when he was done, it SPARKLED.

And then he began the RainX phase of service station mastery.

This morning, as I drove to work in the rain, raindrops standing still on my windshield, me holding out as long as I could to NOT use the wipers, I thought about Dad and RainX.

Dad “treated” our family windshields with this special sauce, the RainX cream. He would squeeze a little out of the bottle and then spread it out across the windshield, rubbing it in with a circular motion, until the windshield shone – a turtlewax for the windshield glass. I will never forget the first time he and Mom took me somewhere and it began raining on his RainX’d windshield. It was raining HARD, and the raindrops just skittered and slid away like the surface was ice. Clearly we were in a large thunderstorm and the sound of the heavy rain on the roof of the car made it difficult to have a conversation…but he was not using the wipers.

I was stunned.

And I was sold on RainX, the miracle cream.

When my life was in the middle of falling apart and I was on my own for the first time in my life, I had a small apartment and parked across the street in a public parking lot. One night, there was a small ice/snow storm. I got up the next morning and looked out the 11th floor window to see that it was cold and white and I would need to leave for work a little earlier so I could scrape my windows on the car. I made my way down the elevator, bundled up for the blast of cold air when I hit the outside air. As I walked across the street to the parking lot, I discovered that someone had beat me to it. All my windows were scraped from edge to edge.

Dad.

He has always made sure that I can see clearly.

When life seemed so complicated and messy and difficult to navigate for any of us, Mom would do the figuring and the sorting and the talking and the busy work of dealing. And Dad was Dad. He was quiet and just did what Dad did. He listened, and he worked.

All those years, Dad was an example by the way he lived, not so much by the things he said. He still is that example. He is the RainX to all things complicated and messy. When life is complicated and people aren’t getting along and the world is falling apart, Dad is quiet, listens, and works.

His work these days involves smiling, cleaning up his corner of the block, offering a Delmar joke, and most importantly, spending time in prayer.

His signature response to, “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay, but I’ll get over it.”

RainX for the soul.

I can already hear one of you agreeing by saying, “Sounds good. You take care of the faith department, I’ll handle the works department.” Not so fast. You can no more show me your works apart from your faith than I can show you my faith apart from my works. Faith and works, works and faith, fit together hand in glove. – James 2:18, The Message

10 years ago today, we were all there, gathered in a small apartment on the 9th floor, waiting in the heaviness of the moments, hanging on to our memories and feeling numb.

Mom and Dad had just celebrated their 62nd wedding anniversary 8 days earlier, Dad by her side, Mom unable to communicate any longer.

10 years ago today, we all stood around her hospital bed in the living room, and we watched as she took her last breath on earth and entered Heaven.

10 years.

120 months.

3653 days.

87, 660 hours.

God has the last word on death. And, if you listen, he will tell you the truth about your loved ones. They’ve been dismissed from the hospital called Earth. You and I still roam the halls, smell the medicines, and eat green beans and Jell-O off plastic trays. They, meanwhile, enjoy picnics, inhale springtime, and run through knee-high flowers. You miss them like crazy, but can you deny the truth? They have no pain, doubt, or struggle. They really are happier in Heaven. And you won’t see them soon? When you drop your kids off at school, do you weep as though you’ll never see them again? When you drop your spouse at the store and park the car, do you bid a final forever farewell? No. When you say, “I’ll see you soon,” you mean it. When you stand in the cemetery and stare down at the soft, freshly turned earth and promise, I’ll see you soon, you speak truth. Reunion is a splinter of an eternal moment away. There is no need for you to “grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13 NIV) So go ahead, face your grief. Give yourself time. Permit yourself tears. God understands. He knows the sorrow of the grave, He buried his son. But He also knows the joy of resurrection. And, by his power, you will too.

Max Lucado From Facing Your Giants and the chapter entitled Unspeakable Grief

I am grateful for the grief pain that I still feel, 10 years later. Mom always needed to be needed, and I still need her today. So does Dad, I just know.

I am grateful for a video my daughter shared with me last week.

I know Mom would love the lives we all live now. She would be happy that Dad is here, taking good care of himself and still doing his own laundry and keeping his apartment clean and smelling so good. I know she would be so happy he is a member of Winchester Friends Meeting. I know she would LOVE that Dad and all her kids worship together every Sunday with her favorite pastors who happen to be her son and daughter in law. I know she would be the biggest supporter of Ron and Pam and the food pantry and would beam with pride as she showed their messages and writings to everyone who walked through the door. I know she would feel such peace knowing Dwight and Marlene are in their happy place and doing so well. I know she would be so proud that Angela is still fighting the fight of the unseen and marginalized. She would plan and scheme and bake and shop, preparing for visits from her grandchildren and have a refrigerator completely covered in great grandchildren pictures – her eyes would sparkle at the mention of any of their names.

And I know she would be happy that I made it through the storm and am still playing my piano. She would be my cheerleader as I begin this quest to complete my degree, just like she did at this age.

I am grateful that this day falls on a Thursday, so I can grieve while I play the piano tonight and think of Mom.

10 years. A decade.

“Reunion is a splinter of an eternal moment away.” I’ll see you soon, Mom.