Personal Choices: You Choose. Life Lessons from an Iron, Circa 1900

 I stumbled upon a miniature iron, while looking for old pictures, a few days ago. The following words, written in my mom’s distinctive handwriting, were taped to the bottom: given by Billy Johnson, my father, to Effie, his baby sister, in 1900. Tears came to my eyes when I read this, not because we’re approaching the anniversary of her death, she died on my birthday, January 19^th, but because this was all the connection she had managed to hold on to, from her father, who passed away three months before she was born. Sadder still, her mother passed away less than two years after she was born in July, 1915. Throughout the course of her eighty four years, she raised, nurtured, held, corrected and most importantly loved numerous brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, and even three children spaced twelve and fifteen years apart. She turned out swell, in spite of the fact that she had, neither a mom nor dad to nudge and lovingly, show her “the way.”

I’m sure she had her share of heartache and failures, while being raised, along with many brothers and sisters, by an aunt and uncle, with too many children already. Maybe, that’s why at fifteen, she married my father, right smack in the middle of the first depression. (Just a footnote, isn’t it sad, up until recently, it was the only depression?) Then my father finished raising her and she in turn, raised him throughout the course of their 62 years together. And they did a great job, I might add, raising themselves, along with the many others who came before me.

The life choices my mother made were her own.  She didn’t have a mom or dad to praise and or to blame for the twists and turns that she encountered along the way. Only God knows all that she went through growing up, surviving on less and always longing for more. I asked her once why she had to ooze love to everyone and she said it was because it was the one thing she wanted more than anything growing up, that she could never have, the love of a mom and a dad. She wanted to make sure that everyone whose lives she crossed, whose hearts she touched, felt unequivocally loved.

Which brings me to this point and or question, who do we praise or blame for our own personal choices?  Is it our parents, she had none; our teachers, she had those but only through the fifth grade; our friends, she had more than one could ever imagine. Although we’ve been influenced by many of these, when it comes right down to it, are not the personal choices we make that ultimately says to the world, just who and what we are, our own?

I’m not perfect in any way, shape or form and through my share of humbling successes; I have made my fair share of mistakes. Regardless of my upbringing and her positive influences, the choices I have made both good and bad, have been and continue to be, my own. I am who I am because of my choices, no one else. 

Yesterday, my sister emailed a truism to me and I have not been able to find who wrote it. We’ll have to say “author unknown,” for the moment. “Everything you do is based on the choices you make. It’s not your parents, your past relationships, your job, the economy, the weather, an argument that is to blame. You and only you are responsible for every decision and every choice you make. Period.”

It’s unfortunate that the choices we make that lead to success; be it in school or in ones career or family, do not garner the same kind of shock and awe, which failure tends to do. If we could love more, praise more, honor more those in our lives who succeed, would it not make their lives and the world we live in, a much better place?  With all the bad news coming down the pike today, I’m for heaping all the praise I can muster to those within and without “my circle.” Everyone, regardless of circumstance, deserves to feel wanted, needed and appreciated, don’t they? It’s hard to be depressed indefinitely and take the wrong roads repeatedly, when you are enveloped in love and praise. Period.

That being said, no matter what we encounter along life’s path, we, alone, choose how we address it. We have all been given free will and can choose with each day, whether to be positive, to be happy or not. Thankfully too, there are many second chances for most of us, if we happen to choose unwisely. I just want you to know, I am the king of second chances. Thankfully, Lamentations 3:22-23 provides me spiritual solace through an infinite supply of daily grace, when I find myself floundering with my own personal choices.

Join me today, in reflecting on just where and who we are at this moment in our lives. Who or what has influenced you the most in your journey, the least? When it comes right down to it, have you made the most of what you’ve been given or have you taken the stance to blame someone else for your current state? I have in the past myself and let me tell you, it doesn’t work for long. We, alone, move forward or backward, one step at a time. It’s our feet, our internal motion and finally our own individual, personal choices that propel us in the right or wrong direction, wherever that happens to be. Period.

Dear America, Join me in writing a letter from the heart

Dear America, Join me in Paying it Forward By Handwriting A Letter or Two from the Heart.

I had a most humbling conversation yesterday with a vivacious, seventeen year old young lady named Victoria. In discussions of homework, careers and her future opportunities, we somehow managed to cross into an abyss of sorts and completely unknown to her, letters. It seems that over the past seventeen years of her relatively young life, she has never sent or received a handwritten letter. Have we advanced that far or better yet, declined that far to the point that the handwritten word is no longer relevant?

Does our world consist solely of emails, texts and tweets? In an age where instant gratification takes center stage, are we robbing this generation and those to come, the art of the written word, as expressed and delivered from the heart? I’m talking about letters to friends and family and possibly someone you’ve never met, but can empathize with; not just love letters. I’m talking about writing in big bold printed letters or in cursive ”God forbid” and sharing words of encouragement, gratitude or just catching up.

How many of our children have held a hand written letter in their hands and read it over and over again? How many have stored them away and pulled them out when they’re having a really tough day? How many handwritten letters have we received from our children and how many have we kept? I dare say those of us fortunate enough to have received handwritten letters from our children, have kept them all. Why, because it’s personal, it’s an extension of oneself as expressed in words.

My mother was an artist in many things, from sketches to cooking to the art of letter writing. Through the years she earned a Master’s in heartfelt communication and eventually a PHD in feel good economics, all through her letters. She had the capacity to make hearts aglow with warmth and love through the handwritten word, throughout her eighty four years. I recently found a poem written to my nephew on his birthday, not long after my dad, but more importantly, his granddad, passed away. She wanted my nephew to know how special he was and through the eyes of my dad, how proud he would always be of him.  Along with the poem was a brilliant red cardinal, sketched in pen and ink. What a present, what a memory still after eighteen years have passed. Needless to say, how many of us would still have an email or text of that special day after all this time?

Don’t you think it’s time we delve into the hearts and minds of those we hold most precious in our eyes and send them a handwritten note from our heart, encouraging them to reply in like kind to others in their circle; paying it forward if you will,  handwritten words filled with sincerity and flowing from the heart. How best to teach children to communicate effectively, to feel loved immeasurably, to give unselfishly and to share some of the daily aspects of their lives. Not only children, but others in our own circles we hold most dear, but it must begin with us.

Let’s not forget your sweetheart. I dare not exclude those whose presence makes our hearts aflutter. Find a compliment, write it down then find another: write squiggly things like hearts and arrows and tell them you love them in a truly special way. Now put it in an envelope and mail it. Yes mail it with a stamp. I would suggest you leave off the return address or not. Guess that’s up to you.

Join me in pledging over the next few weeks to handwrite a letter or two, to friends or family, to whomever, that could use our heartfelt words for encouragement, laughter, warmth or even a brief smile. Then write me and tell me how it felt to write again, to share again, to feel the warmth of the written word in your hands again. Thank you for joining me in this endeavor. I’ll gladly share the comments with you later this month. Feel empowered; be empowered, because we’re all swimming up this stream together.