Remembrance Day Tribute

 I appreciate peace.

I am grateful to be living in a country that has not experienced war within its borders during my lifetime, and, I hope, never will in its future.  I wish this for all peoples.

I am also grateful for my personal freedoms.

The Value of Fun and Games

I participated in a conversation game this week that reminded me of the importance of fun and games.  I thank the people who opened themselves up and made a connection with the group by sharing something about themselves.  They contributed to my appreciation of the art of play.

As a child, I was raised under an umbrella of rules that were intended to teach me that hard work was rewarded and having fun was unproductive, or a waste of time.  My life experiences reinforced this lesson and I was proud of the accomplishments my hard work resulted in.  It wasn't till much later, as an adult, that I began to value fun for more than its ability to restore my energy.

 

At some point, I began to feel that coined phrase, "there must be more to life".  I had created a lifestyle pattern of working so hard that it took doing nothing just to rejuvenate myself.   Time was a precious commodity.  It had to be spent productively; anything else was a personal indulgence.

By the time I finally saw that the solution was a simple one, I had grown rusty at the art of play.

I love people who see humour in the little things in life.  I strive to be more like them.  If I can find the fun in the small moments of each day, I feel happier.

When I am happier, more good times come my way.

The Gift of Forgiveness May Be Acceptance

 I was recently reminded of an "aha" moment I had while grieving my mother's passing.  It had nothing to do with my mother but everything to do with my father.

Childhood resentment of my father was heavily based on my perspective that he was the polar opposite to my mother.  Whereas I saw her as kind and loving, I felt that he was cruel and cold.  I had also felt that her attributes were undervalued.  To express my feelings of loss, I wrote a poem to honour her.  It was in this act that I gained awareness of my own lack of compassion.  Let me explain.

Growing up I had felt my father's judgment upon me at all times.  I didn't feel that he saw, or accepted me for, who I was.  So, how could he love and appreciate me?  It made me feel that he wanted me to be someone else - perhaps the son he never had.

When I got to writing this stanza, I had an awakening of conscience.

Remember her,
By being accepting of others,
Not for who you want them to be,
But for "who" they choose to be.

I had complained about who my father was my entire life.  In writing these lines, I recognized it was up to me to change how I looked at him.  To see him as a man who struggled all his life to do his best.  It was time to accept him for who he was, instead of expecting him to reflect the image of a father I had wanted him to be.

My new perspective was tested at his death bed five years later.  As he lay dying, he talked about what a great father he had been.  I didn't contradict him.  I acknowledged his belief in himself and gave him the gift of a peaceful passing.

I will always respect and thank my father for providing his family with a home, food on the table and an education.  He never made me feel that being female meant I couldn't become anything I decided on.  The contrast he represented in my life experiences brought clarity to my vision of who I wanted to be and reflect back to the world.  I am grateful for these things.