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 19th, 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.
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