What If We Profiled Others As “Love”

I am contemplating how we Christians, at the beginning of December, started our celebration of Advent with themes of hope, moved into peace, then joy, and are wrapping these all up with love. In this chaotic world, are those obtainable ideals?

As I consider the love component, what pops into my mind is a video I watched a while back of a guy who told a story with a lovely British accent. Or was it Australian? I can’t tell the difference. Anyway, he told how he had gotten into a taxi and the cab driver said, “Where to, love?” The core of his message was, wouldn’t it be awesome instead of labeling each other as gay, straight, brown, black, white, liberal, conservative—we just labeled or addressed each other as “love?” Where to, love. Hello, love. You need anything, love? I am trying to see your point of view, love.

It does seem, for me, that it would be weird to get into a taxicab and tell someone I do not know, “Hi, Love. Can you take me to the church at the corner of Fifth and Hawthorne?” But my voice tone could be one of gratefulness; I could address them as “friend”; and I could leave an adequate tip when I pay for their services.  

The Christian Bible verse, love others as yourself, is foundational instruction and, as far as I can tell, one we gloss over as we judge others. Which makes me wonder, how well are we loving ourselves? And if we aren’t loving ourselves well, is it possible to be able to reach out to others from a place of love? 

 I won’t tell you I get it right all the time but I do try to operate from the perspective of being kind. Sometimes it’s a simple smile as I pass someone on a walk, or more profound like when recently I provided money to a woman in front of a shopping center, who, with her three young children running around her, held up a handwritten sign of desperation to please help. And yes, she looked like she might be from another country. But do unto others as you would have them to do for you, echoed in my heart. I know not where that money will go, but if I erred in giving it, I erred on the side of grace with the hope my small gesture could help her desperate need, and that provides me a feeling of peace and joy.

Why does it take the many traditions of December, be it Christmas or other of the many religious celebrations, to focus on peace on earth and goodwill towards all people? Then January comes, and we steer our focus towards exercise and dieting, and we move on to other things with each passing day. Is it possible we could embrace the theme of hope, peace, joy, and love each day, all year long?

My hope for the new year is that we will be mindful of providing grace and kindness each day to all people, including ourselves. Grace and kindness that will look and feel like love and provide a by-product of peace and joy. Maybe that can be part of our new year’s resolution. Try it out as you meet new people at the gym or diet group you plan to join.

Thanks, Love for reading this post.

Advent Waiting

During the month of December, Christians are amidst their Advent season. Advent is a time of reflection on the significance of Jesus’ birth, and waiting—waiting for Jesus’ second coming.

I for one, think it’s going to be a long wait. At least for his physical return.

According to a Jesus quote in Matthew 24:26 – “no one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

I was introduced to this Advent ritual when as an adult I began attending a church that honored the season with purple banners displaying the words for the weekly themes of, hope, peace, joy, and love. There’s also the wreath that holds the purple, pink, and white candles being lit on their appropriate week. Each Sunday when the candles are lit by a specially selected someone from the congregation, we sometimes get to practice waiting with a holding of our breath, as time passes while the person struggles to get the lighter to work. But Christmas miracles happen, and they finally get the job done and as our waiting ends, we exhale with a sigh of relief. 

Once the Sunday service is over, we hurry out the door to live our lives. The hustle and bustle of the Christmas shopping, decorating, partying, and sometimes singing, Grandma Got Run Over by A Reindeer. All the while, we also are working jobs to pay the bills, especially the larger bills for purchases from this gift-giving season. 

I am not living as though I am actively waiting for Jesus’ return. Are you? I mean, what would that look like? Standing outside, watching the clouds to see if they part hoping to have the first glance? Do I really think, it’s going to be my little corner of the United States area he’ll show up first? Or will it be the small sliver of the world he walked around while he was on the earth, maybe Israel? 

When, exactly, do we find or make the time to reflect and wait, unless when driving our cars, the streetlight turns red, and makes us stop and wait? But I doubt even with a forced stop, we are reflecting and looking up at the clouds to see if anyone is coming. We’re more likely singing along to the radio’s Jingle Bell Rock or one of Taylor Swift’s latest hits.

The blaring red light that made me stop, pay attention, and reflect was the challenges of cancer 20 years ago. But that was only the beginning of my reflective journey. It’s an ongoing evolvement that takes on different worldviews with the experiences of life’s journey. I expect to continue my evolution until my last breath. I have learned though, that change and reflection through the sunshine isn’t as eye-opening as when there is rain, thunder, and lightning while being windblown in directions we don’t foresee going. 

Honestly, I think Jesus is the one waiting—waiting on us to figure out how to get things right, like loving others, judging not, and taking care of the downtrodden. He has got to be shaking his head in disbelief of how some people, who profess to believe in him, have gotten it so wrong. Why is it difficult for many to utilize compassion as a moral compass?

If we could all embrace goodwill towards all people, do you think we would then have peace on earth?

Advent. It is a time of preparation for Jesus’s coming. I ask you to consider that we don’t need to wait for Jesus to arrive. The clouds have already parted, and His spirit arrived at this human world within each of us the day we each arrived. It just takes some maturing to begin to look inward towards our cloudy spirit. The life journey we are on in this harsh hectic world needs to embrace the spirit of hope, peace, joy, and love. The greatest of these is love.

How long do we need to wait before we are brave enough to part the clouds and see the light that exists in us, then embrace and shine that light into this harsh, hectic world? Do we have to be forced to stop, like my cancer diagnosis did for me? I hope not. I hope if you aren’t already on this journey, you’ll join me, if only in spirit. 

I’ll be waiting ––

for you. 

Hope Flutters Within Us Like A Soft Feather

In his book, Where is God when it Hurts?, Philip Yancey says this about hope:

Hope means simply the belief that something good lies ahead. It is not the same as optimism or wishful thinking, for these imply a denial of reality….hope resembles courage more than cheerfulness. It involves a leap, much like faith.

I believe we spiritual beings having a human experience have access to aspects of ourselves that lies deep within us that belongs to our soul. When life’s, seemingly insurmountable, challenges appears darkening our outlook, something arises within us. Hope appears, arriving much like a feather floating in from some unknown source, rising within us softly, sutteley and stirs then steers us towards the courage we need to navigate through the darkness. 

Hope is a soul thing, not a cerebral thing. The Bible tells us that within the tremendous trio of faith, hope, and love, the greatest is love.  I do believe that the positioning of the word hope in between faith and love is insight to its role…

it is what bridges the gap between and balances the other two.

And even though it appears softly like a feather floating within us, hope’s presence can move proverbial mountains when combined with our faith and love.

I have hoped often in my life – hope for healing health, hope for my daughter’s future, hope for our chaotic country, and hope to rise above many of life’s challenges. Hope is the launching pad–we start from where we are and put one foot in front of the other and move forward believing we can handle the challenges with courageous hope. 

Jesus came that we might have hope abundantly. During this current season of our lives, may we have hope in all things knowing that we can conquer much in this human experience, but what we can’t conquer in this life, we can conquer when we spiritual beings come into our true selves.

2 Corinthians 3:12 Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold.

Photo by Rejilal Ravi on Pexels.com

Grounded Through Gratitude

Several years ago, I started a daily morning routine to journal about things I am grateful for from the day before. Often my gratitude recap is about logistics, like the breakfast fast-food drive-thru I frequent not taking long. Or when on a recent road trip, I made it through a small town without having to stop at all 13 traffic lights. 

The best things that show up with my journaling, center around people I interact with. When I write about the people who I had brief or lengthy encounters with, it shows me that my need for connectivity is often met. Something I don’t think I’d realize if I didn’t write about it. This journaling has opened my eyes and my spirit to the blessings I experience EVERY SINGLE DAY, and. has made a huge difference in my attitude. It offsets the negativity of the world. That isn’t to say it prevents negativity, but it does keep things in perspective. Focusing on the positives does uplift the spirit. 

I am in the midst of reading, “Think Like A Monk” by Jay Shetty. He reminds me that how we start our day is crucial to the mood of the day, and we should, either before we go to bed, or first thing of the morning, write down what we are grateful for as a grounding mechanism. Combine the gratitude journaling with a non-rushed morning routine where you rise and breathe a bit, before diving into the realities that face us, provides a different foundation for the day than a rushed routine.

For most of my life, I, the non-morning person, had a very rushed routine to get myself ready and out the door into the world that awaited. It was even more hectic when I had working mother duties with my daughter’s care as part of the morning process. My usual rushed routine to do what I must do to get me launched and out the door to my morning work commute included a stop at the drive-thru to get some breakfast, with hopes of a short car line, and my food order when given to me, was correct. If I was lucky enough for that component of my commute going well, I then began the battle for a spot on the congested interstate where many cars needed to make their way through the morning’s terrible traffic rush. All this hurrying established a negative energy field as I checked my work’s voicemail from my cell phone to see what potential problems I’d be facing once I arrived at my office. No wonder I felt stressed from work. But now retired, I reflect and wonder if it was work that caused the stress or the negative forcefield I’d created around me with how I started my day.

 Here’s how I wish I’d begun my days (which does mean getting up a bit earlier):

Rising leisurely; enjoying the process of picking out what I’ll wear for the day; a lingering hug with my husband; enjoying the aroma of good-smelling coffee as I pour it into a favorite cup; talking to the cat; appreciating the pictures of family and friends that surround me from my home office; and finally, feeling the pen in my hand as I begin journaling.

The above works a lot better than:

Awakening to a noisy alarm clock; rushing out of bed and hastily picking out my outfit for the day; kissing my husband quickly; finding my phone to check news and social media; and finally, pouring and barely tasting my coffee before I sit down, and organizing my to-do list. 

I can feel the difference, by writing about it. As you read these two scenarios, do you feel the difference?

Life is busy. Life is tough. 

Tough like the recent loss of my friend, Tedi. She recently lost her battle with a cancerous brain tumor. I could write about my heartache, and I probably will at some point, but not in my gratitude journal. Within the gratitude process, I write, “I am very grateful for Tedi’s imprint on my life. Grateful we had many good times together.” Writing these words down and embracing her spirit, as the words pass from my heart, to arm, to hand, to pen, and onto the paper of my journal–fills me with gratitude.

How do you begin your day? And how does that establish the mood for the rest of your day?

I wish I’d started my morning gratitude routine long ago. But starting later rather than never, is something I am grateful I finally got around to. If you need a gratitude process I recommend my writer friend, Maureen Ryan Griffin’s Gratitude Journal (link here) https://www.wordplaynow.com/the-tag-im-it-daily-journal-and-practice/. I also recommend, the aforementioned, book by Jay Shetty, “Think Like A Monk–Train Your Mind for Peace and Purpose Every Day.”

As you embrace the Thanksgiving holiday, may your days ahead be filled with small and large blessings that will fill a journal’s pages and make your heart soar. 

I close with gratitude that you took the time to read this post.

Carol

Life –A Parallel Universe

Awesome.                                                                   Awful.

Evoking experiences of

Sunrises.                                                                     Sunsets.                                              

High tides.                                                                  Low tides.

Baby’s first cry.                                                          Loved one’s last breath.

Relationship beginnings.                                          Relationship endings.

Laughter launching us to tears.                                Sobs smothering our lungs.

It feels 

Electrifying, entertaining, enlightening.                 Boring, belittling, and burdening.

Therapeutic as a beach’s calm waters.                    Exhaustive as a Mount Everest climb.

Warming and nourishing our soul.                Depleting and challenging our psyche.                           

We are confused by

Emotional highs making us glow.                     Emotional dark abyss, dousing the light.

We breathe in all of it

Awesome.                                                                   Awful.

Letting it caress us.                                                   Letting it strengthen us.

Life weaves into us

The interwoven nuances

Challenging us to live fully by,

Embracing the

Awesome                                                        Awful

Christmas Décor Arriving Prior To Thanksgiving

It was early November; I was driving from Charlotte, towards the North Carolina coast to a writing workshop retreat with my dear friend and fellow wannabe writer, Linda. Halloween was in the rearview mirror and Thanksgiving, three weeks away, wasn’t ready to come into view through the windshield of life. Holidays were not of utmost importance as we drove towards our beach retreat destination. But there in our view from the two-lane rural road, we were on, happening often enough to make me exasperated were…

Christmas decorations and lights brightening up small homes and their yards.

“Seriously?!” I said to Linda, in a high-pitched voice, as we passed yet another decorated house. “Can we not give the turkey season its due? Why are people in a rush to skip Thanksgiving and plow right into Christmas? Aren’t there rules we should abide by? I mean, if you celebrate any other holiday, it is a certain day! The Fourth of July doesn’t get to begin right after Memorial Day. It’s so bad, that Christmas/holiday music started playing on some radio stations on November first, Christmas decorations were abundant in retail stores in early October, and Santa is setting up photo opportunities already at most malls and other retail outlets.” 

After my bah-humbug tirade, I took a deep breath.

It was a warm southern 70 degrees and in my not-so-humble opinion, too early to begin the Christmas season decorating. 

Wasn’t it? 

After the weekend of writing, which was awesome by the way, we traveled back through rural North Carolina toward our homes and saw some of the same decorations still holding hostage the houses that had yet to celebrate Thanksgiving. Then, on Tuesday morning at my group exercise class, a life lesson began by way of my instructor/friend saying, “Y’all, I have already put out my Christmas decorations and lights and I have a small gift for you.”

I stood up straight with a stiffened spine, and said, “So, you are one of them, huh?” 

Aliens. People who break the no-decorating-for-Christmas-until-after-Thanksgiving rule must be from another planet.

I have never been part of putting out any Christmas decorations until, at the earliest, the day after Thanksgiving. Ever.

My exercise instructor/friend shared with me that she had a tough life with parents that were a long, long way from making the top ten of best parents ever. She does have a lot going well for her now though: a good husband, job, friends, and God whom she puts a lot of faith into.

She explained, “I deal with a lot of depression during the holiday season, and putting out the Christmas decorations and starting my giving early, makes me feel so much better.”

And with her comment, I had been hit between my narrow-view eyes, and my spine softened.

I’ve dealt with depression in my life for one reason or another. Some of it has been situational and some due to my DNA which causes me to run on emotional empty if I don’t take my meds, holiday or not. Both my parents passed away in 2020 within three months of each other, and holidays do make me miss and reminisce about them more than any regular day. And my current situation with my siblings is, well, let’s wait to discuss that another time. All of us have our grief and/or dysfunction, some worse than others, and we all deal with it in our own way. What’s good for me, may not be good for you. Some people need the strength of Solomon to push the pillars of grief and dysfunction away. And if breaking decorating rules makes people feel better, then I and others like me need to put our bah-humbug opinions on the shelf with the elf or other creature you may prefer.

If I were dreading the upcoming holidays, I don’t know that I would think putting out decorations and lights early would make me feel better. But as I type this from my comfortable chair in my living room and look around, I do have a LOT of fall stuff decorating my house. And for several weeks prior to and up through the night of Halloween, my husband did set up lighted Jack-o-lanterns that lit up our front yard. So maybe I do decorate with lights and stuff to cheer me up, prior to the day after Thanksgiving, it’s just not the candy cane or Santa theme.

I have wondered from time to time what some of the rationales are for people decorating early. Some people, like my exercise instructor/friend, need some extra pick-me-ups, or maybe someone is visiting for Thanksgiving but won’t be there for Christmas, so they celebrate Christmas early; or someone is getting ready to exit this world, and brightening up their view with decorations cheers everyone. I suspect there are other reasons. Maybe they love the decor of Christmas and for them, the sooner the decor is out, all the better. No excuse necessary to justify what they want for themselves. Okay, I can live with that attitude, but won’t be living my life that way.

During this thankful/grateful season, I always reflect on how blessed I am with many friends who light up my life in a multitude of ways with their life lessons and great gestures of kindness by way of connecting conversations that make an impact, and gracious gifts that speak from their souls including my exercise instructor/friend whose small gift in November was a Christmas theme cup with a candle in it. And I, who does not decorate with Christmas stuff before Thanksgiving, have it sitting on my kitchen counter and have already been ceremoniously lighting it to remind me of my friend. This keeps her utmost in my thoughts and prayers. My prayer is, that grace will sustain her and others who struggle during the holidays. It also makes our house smell pleasant, and hints that soon there will be a different décor in and outside our house.

Enjoy your holidays, however you manage to celebrate or get through them. May grace find its way to light up your world, through small gestures that may resemble a Christmas cup with a candle in it given by someone whose life is lit up by giving in a heartfelt way, and who admits to decorating for Christmas prior to Thanksgiving.

Happy holidays, Thanksgiving, Kwanza, Hanukkah, and merry Christmas. And if it makes you feel better to leave 2022 behind a bit early—happy New Year.

Carol Injaychock

11-22-2022

Lessons From A Beach Pier

A Tribute To My Dad

During many summers of my youth, for one full seven-day vacation week, the beach and the beach pier provided lessons. Lessons that at the time I did not know I was receiving.

Dad, the pier was always your place to be.

Just be.

You had a usual spot about halfway down the pier where with sunglasses, shorts, sunscreen, fishing pole, and a big grin, you were content. You would fish, although it seemed you really didn’t care if you caught anything. The rays of the sun, glisten of the water, and feel of the pole in your hands were what mattered.

You were always where us kids knew we could find you, no matter where we wondered to. Sometimes, when we came to check in with you, you would hand over the fishing pole and guide us on how to cast, instructing us where instruction was needed. And the only way the fish would get cleaned, was if we did it ourselves. You were not raising us to grow up not knowing how to take care of challenges even when they looked like messy fish.

Sometimes as we walked across the pier and its wooden planks, we would get splinters. Your kind caring hands and your calm voice coached us through getting the splinter out. Like the cleaning of the fish, we had to learn to fix the splinters in our lives that came our way.

It took time, maturity and reflection to realize the lessons given from the pier:

  • Solitude is a well-deserved gift to yourself.
  • When you fish, you clean the fish. Jobs are sometimes no fun, but we receive the rewards of the labor.
  • It doesn’t take a lot of effort to enjoy a day.
  • Life often only needs vivid sunshine, glistening water, sturdy pier, fishing pole, and positive attitude.
  • Even when you have the basics of life there are still messy fish to be cleaned and prickly splinters that cause pain.
  • A calm demeanor and perseverance are the sunshine on our souls.

With each sunrise, wave crashing upon the beach, and cast of the fishing rod, I received more lessons than I realized.

Until now.

Thanks, Dad for the many lessons.

Your mixed-up middle child, Carol

A Tribute To My Mom

Mother’s Day

It’s a convoluted celebration, isn’t it? Many are lucky they can celebrate with their mothers and the healthy relationship they are fortunate to have. For some though, there is grief from no longer having a mom on this earth, and others grieve the loss of children who made them a mom, or those who want to become a mom and haven’t been able to.  And, unfortunately, for some, there are those who did not have a good role model. Then there are those of us who have had a mom alive, but not the essence of their spirit, fortitude, or personality. Even though the body is present with us, Alzheimer’s or dementia robs us of relationships we once took for granted.

My mom was one who experienced Alzheimer’s for six-plus years. I say, “experienced,” not “suffered from,” because she wasn’t suffering. She knew not what was happening to her. It was those of us who lost the essence of who she was that suffered. Someone who survived much in life shouldn’t have to endure a dreadful disease. But life does what life does. My dedicated dad kept my mom at home during her Alzheimer’s slow deterioration. She was well cared for by ladies hired to help, as well as me and my siblings spending our weekends helping take care of her. Often, I wondered where her spirit was. If we are spiritual beings having a human experience, like I believe, when our mind doesn’t know who we are, where is the spirit? She passed away in September of 2020. Now that she is gone, I can feel her, and I talk to her. It is a relationship that I missed. 

For six years, prior to her passing, each May right before Mother’s Day, I stood in the card aisle of various stores looking at cards dedicated to loving moms. I glared at the many options of cards, unable to reach for one that would be appropriate. What is an appropriate card for someone with Alzheimer’s that knows not what the card is for; knows not that she is your mom? Standing in the card aisle contemplating the many card options was as much fun as dangling in shackles in a dark dungeon. Wishing. Wishing for the former celebrations that brought our family, my parents, me, my two siblings, and our children together celebrating with flowers, food, and fun pictures taken on a beautiful spring day in May. 

For six years I struggled with this celebration and others: birthdays, Easter, and Christmas. For the first couple of years of her diagnosis, I bought her cards. But in the latter years picking out a card seemed futile, she was so completely oblivious to who I was or the role I played in her life–one of the three who made her a mom.

She was a great mom. I won’t profess that she was perfect in every way, after all, she was renowned for burning bread every time she put it in the oven, and because perfection isn’t humanly possible when you work full time, are financially strapped, and have three children with very different personalities, and microwaves weren’t invented yet, so putting meals on the table was time-consuming. But deserving of the “Best Mom of the Year” award? I vote a resounding, yes. She was a loving, strengthening, supporting person from whom I launched my life (and my dad too, but this is about her). The picture I chose to be attached to this blog is one of my favorites. I was a young girl leaning into my mom, fully enveloped in her hug. Supported. Loved. The picture was taken on the Blue Ridge Parkway near Asheville, where I grew up. A family outing, I think. All I remember is the cracked boulder we stood in front of to pose for this photo and the feel of her as I leaned in. This picture came to symbolize the many cracks in life I’ve experienced but always having my go-to-for-support, mom. 

She had a tough life growing up in very rural western North Carolina, during the depression and World War II, in a house that didn’t have electricity until she was in high school. Her father died of a heart attack at the end of her high school junior year. Through the tenacity of her mom and older siblings they managed to keep food on the table, although that sometimes meant a wild turkey or squirrel, she and her mom hunted. There were 60 acres of woods, a plum tree with plums for picking, and ample apples on trees that she picked and sold from the side of the road to raise money for her nursing school tuition.

She became a registered nurse through a program three hours away in the larger city of Asheville.  She was proud to leave her rural roots and move forward in life. She met her husband-to-be while he was in the Navy through a classmate. After she completed nursing school and he the Navy, they married, and with no more than the car he owned, and a suitcase full of clothes, they moved to California for ten years. Both working, bringing three children into the world, and then returning to Asheville, North Carolina without jobs because they wanted a life closer to family. She (and my dad) made big leaps of faith by going to California and then returning to North Carolina.  

Like my parents who left California for North Carolina without jobs, when I was in my early twenties and single, I left small-town Asheville where I grew up, and relocated myself to Charlotte, North Carolina without a job. When I told my mom what I was going to do, there was a bit of panic in her eyes, but also her loving support, and belief in me. I don’t think either of us realized, I was patterning myself after her, making decisions by taking a leap of faith towards a better life. For my parents and me, our leaps of faith worked out, but as life often is, there were multiple obstinate obstacles that we navigated.  

A relative recently said to me, “You look and sound like your mom. And that is not a bad thing.” As the saying goes, Acorns do not fall far from the tree, and I am her “acorn,” she, my tree. When times are tough, I feel her enduring strength that lives on inside this “acorn” she produced.

I am a mother of one daughter. I named her with my mom’s family name. A name I correlate with strength, endurance, and tenacity. My 27-year-old daughter is doing her best to find her way in this world. Recently, she quit a job without a job to explore her options because where she was working was toxic. The acorn doesn’t fall far from this tree.

As I celebrated being a mother with my daughter and husband this Mother’s Day, missing my mom was part of the day. But I am relieved as much as grateful my mom is free of Alzheimer’s and is of the spirit world where I can connect with her. I’m blessed for the many years of celebrations we did have. I’m grateful she instilled in me a big part of her, and she is now always with me. I am privileged that I can laugh, talk, or look in the mirror and I will hear and see her in me. But the essence of her, 

I feel with all my being. 

Those arms wrapped around me as I lean into her, filling me with strength when the cracks of life shake me.

Thanks, Mom for your many gifts.

Carol

Mother’s Day tribute 2022