Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Every so often I get an overwhelming sense of thankfulness.

I live a simple life, and enjoy simple pleasures . . . 
it doesn't take anything major to bring me to this place.

It's the way the birds sing early in the morning,
the way the sun shines through my window,
or maybe
 a song I hear.
It can be holding hands with one of my grandchildren
breathing deeply
walking barefoot though the freshly cut grass.

I suppose it has much to do with the way I was raised
the stories I was raised on.

I was born into a large family
of five generations.

 to have not only grandparents,
 great and great-great grandparents living,

I was privileged to learn the history of the family.

It was my greatest delight to listen to these 
men and women 
as they related their 
struggles and successes.

"This was your great-great-great grandmother's teaspoon".
"This bible belonged to your great-great-great grandfather".

True stories of their quests 
were more thrilling than any fairy tales or novels.
Great-great grandmother could recount history from her grandmother,
taking me back to the time just following the Civil War.

The struggles and privations,
the journeys and risks,
the sorrows, successes and joys 
of their lives 
were the most astounding stories
because I knew they were real!

They lived through wars and Depression, droughts and epidemics.
They struggled against loss and poverty and being uprooted.

They began again . . .
 and again.

I grew out of these people.
My strength and courage and endurance
 in my life to come
seemed guaranteed
because I was made of strong fibre.

If they could do it . . . 
chances were I could too.

They assured me.

They were behind me.

More importantly,
they had gone before me,
paving a road that they had forged

generation by generation.

The most important thing they taught me

"enjoy the simple pleasures
every day."

More to come . . . 

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