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Reaching for love...

5/24/2017

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by Gwendolyn M Plano
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​I’ll be traveling to New York next month, to my youngest son’s engagement party. He called last night to ask if I would feel comfortable if he invited his father to the celebration. I told him very honestly that I hoped he would do so.

We all face junctures where the past and present collide, where memories demand our attention and crowd our mind. Sometimes these collisions evoke fear or anger or revenge, sometimes they simply remind us of a forgotten part of our life.

I read a fascinating book recently entitled Journey of Souls. The author, Dr. Michael Newton, presents case studies of clients, who while in a trance, speak of a life before this earthly life. There is a great similarity between one client and another, which is even more intriguing for me. And, one of the similarities involves our purpose in life.

Often, we associate purpose with our jobs or roles. But perhaps, purpose has less to do with what our title might be and more to do with how we live that title – of mom or dad or director or professor or whatever.

I can identify myself as a mom of four, but such an identifier tells you little about me, for you don’t know how I try to live that title, which gets to my purpose, I believe.

Dr. Newton’s clients speak of learning to love, and I wonder if that is our sole purpose. If it is, then our circumstances are a means to reach that end. Tragedy and sorrows transform to a challenge to dig deeper into our hearts.  Could it be that through these hurdles, we are given the opportunity to go beyond our limits and in that stretch, become more than who we have been?

When my son asked if my past could step into my present, I paused for a moment, for I needed to retrieve that past. Strangely, I found that it was no longer there. When the past is depleted of its usefulness, all that remains are faded photos and the person we have become – through our reach for love, for joy, for happiness.  

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Maria Shriver - igniting architects for change

5/21/2017

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​I enjoy Maria Shriver’s Sunday Paper. Today I share her reflection, because her thoughts beautifully echo my own.... 


     “Have you ever had one of those weeks where no matter how hard you try to stay upbeat, cheery and positive, you just can’t?

​Of course you have. That’s what this past week felt like for me, too.

This was one of those weeks where the news unfolded so rapidly that it was hard to keep up. It was hard to stop shaking your head; hard to not complain; hard to actually believe what was happening. It was hard to know exactly what to do.

I spoke to folks who were glued to the news and social media. They were dissecting it in real time trying to figure out what it all meant. Meanwhile, others I spoke to said they just couldn't bear any of it and turned away.

In the world we live in today, it can be hard sometimes to see a clear path ahead. Few things feel certain anymore. These are confusing times, for sure.

It's hard to know what to think when everything seems to be changing more rapidly than it takes to form a new thought. That’s why during times like these, I try and spend time away from the noise so that I can properly formulate my own thoughts.

I reach out to those whom I respect — people who I feel can offer perspective and who can remind me that we’ve been here before. I also read and/or listen to others whose words and thoughts lift me up and focus my mind on the positive. That's not being naive. It’s simply acknowledging that there are issues unfolding around us and that we can choose how we respond. 

I've lived through tumultuous times before. Assassinations. The turbulent ‘60s. Vietnam. Watergate. A president's resignation. Iran Contra. 9/11…the list goes on.

I've learned that the will of the people trumps the mightiest of power players. I've also learned that unraveling takes time. So does clarity. 

Give yourself permission to step away. Breathe. Ask yourself: “What do I think?” Turn to those with wisdom who have seen it all and who have lived to tell it. Stay attuned to the news, but don't allow yourself to become consumed by it, either.


Know that this will not be resolved today or tomorrow, but it will be resolved.
​

So, find your resolve. Focus on what good you can do in your own life, or for your country that so desperately needs it. Our nation needs what we have to offer. It needs for us to turn down the volume, calm the “he said, she said,” and look forward to a future that’s more united than divided. I think we can all agree that we deserve a future that's brighter than darker, more compassionate than critical, and more honest than what we have today.”

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Grandma's hands...

5/13/2017

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by Gwendolyn M Plano​
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​One of my favorite songs is Grandma’s Hands by Bill Withers. Recently, I heard Kristy Lee sing it, and I invite you to listen to her rendition. Always, whenever I hear the song, I think of my mom.
 
In my extended family “Grandma” is the guardian of all-things-possible. She’s the one to whom the 40+ grandchildren call to fix a problem. She’s the one the 100+ nieces and nephews look to for a pat on the back or a warm embrace. Grandma’s opinion trumps all others and her prayers evoke miracles it seems.

My siblings and I are aware of our mother’s power with our children. When Grandma says something, she is politely listened to – we may not be. If Grandma says this or that needs to be done, this or that is done – no questions asked. Somehow the younger among us have decided that Grandma is the queen.

And, they are all aware of Grandma’s hands.

Gnarled from arthritis and time, Grandma keeps them hidden as best she can. When I was a child, her fingers deftly made quilts and dresses; churned butter or turned the crank for homemade ice cream. She tended one garden after another, and when she could, she escaped the noise of yelling kids and painted peaceful scenes in oil on canvas.

At ninety years old, my mom’s hands, Grandma’s hands, have retired from such things. They now turn pages more slowly, struggle to pick up coins or button a blouse; but, for their limitations, these beautiful hands still reach out to hold or embrace…the newest baby, the child crying, the teenager needing encouragement, the mom or dad who needs advice. Time may have taken its toll, but love just gets refined.

Blessings to all on this Mother’s Day….  


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Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. ―Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning


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