Category: A Moment in My Life

A Moment in My Life – Monday, February 8, 2021

I was inspired by the “Dear Future Me” segment aired on the Kelly Clarkson Show, where some of the students from Mr. Rich Palmgren’s sixth-grade class read letters they wrote to their future selves to be read on their high school graduation day. Letters reminding them of who they were, where they came from, what their concerns were, with a sneak peek at what their lives were like as their younger selves. They included mementos that were important to them. Their likes and dislikes and what excited them. Dreams and goals that they envisioned for their future selves. Some students read their letters on camera, updating us with who they became compared to who they were when they wrote the letters. 

One student, Tommy, moved away without giving Mr. Palmgren his address, landing his letter in the “dead letter” folder where it resided for the last 24 years. Earlier in the year, Tommy reached out to thank Mr. Palmgren for being that special teacher who touched his students’ lives extraordinarily and unforgettably. They reconnected, and Mr. Palmgren said, “Oh, by the way, I have this letter for you,” and hence, reviving the letter into action. 

By the airing of this episode, Tommy hadn’t opened his letter yet. He was excited and a bit nervous about what his younger self had to say, and the audience was as just as intrigued as he was. His letter began, “Dear Me: You should be reading this letter in 2003.” Followed by things important to the younger him. It was entertaining, gave us a good chuckle, and pulled on our heartstrings hearing Tommy read his forgotten letter—as he read his letter, which heavily filled with his passion for his ex-girlfriend, Melissa. He learned that he remained true to his younger self’s aspirations, with one exception—Melissa. Kelly asked Tommy if anything surprised him, and he answered that he was surprised how obsessed he was with Melissa. Younger Tommy wrote, “Did you ask Melissa to the prom?” Adult Tommy replied, “No, I did not. We moved away before the prom.” By the end of his letter, there was one question on everybody’s mind—whatever happened to Melissa? And the answer was, drum roll, they are still friends but didn’t end up together. Tommy is happily married with two kids and one on the way.

Hearing some of the things that concerned these kids and seeing how their young lives blossomed over six years enticed me to write myself a letter. I don’t know who originated this great letter writing idea, but it is intriguing to one day find a letter addressed to myself telling me about things that only I knew. Things about who I was, who I want to become, my desires, fears, dreams, and goals that are secretly stashed away in a treasure chest buried deep in the oceans of my inner mind. Often, we have a thought but quickly dismiss it as we get busied with life. It’s those moments that would fascinate me when I read my letter. I decided I’m writing me a letter to read on my birthday in July—that’s in six months, a good stretch but not too long. Let’s see if I’m still the same person I am today or who I will be instead. It will be a good gauge for how well I am living my year by how many goals I’ve accomplished. I will soon have a clearer picture of what’s truly important to me. I think I will follow the original guidelines and write a letter to myself for 2026 as well. It should be enlightening to get a forgotten letter addressed to “Dear Future Me.”

A Moment in My Life – Friday, February 5, 2021

This video from GMA3 called “Life in a Day 2020” profoundly touched me, leaving a lasting impression on my heart. It started lovely putting a smile on my face seeing people from around the world living a day in their lives. It was like watching National Geographics on screen. Families were cooking and sharing a meal, hugging and kissing, leisurely sitting together, exercising together, enjoying some outdoor excursion, and babies being born, to list a few examples. They were living life—all smiles, laughter, and happy faces warming my heart, filling my core with the feel-good impulses. 

Not all scenes were cheery ones. I felt bad for the young man having the camera in his face being awakened when he didn’t want to be bothered. I sure wouldn’t want to wake up with a camera in my face. He went along with the camera person. I guess I didn’t need to feel so bad for him after all. He was okay. What a good sport, I thought.

A few scenes later, the young man’s mother shared that the video she took of her son was chosen for this documentary, and she decided to add an update, which intrigued me. My mouth fell opened. My eyes welled with tears as the camera panned over a small display of love with an urn to one side, while the woman’s quavering voice said, “Here is my son now, my son Alex. He passed away February 18, 2020, due to complications from Covid-19.” Heartbreaking! He was 24 years old—just a kid! How could this scene be possible? 

This is why we have to be as vigilant as we can for as long as it takes to wait out this disease. Covid-19 is indiscriminate. Covid-19 doesn’t give anybody a get-out-of-jail-free card. It baffles me how there are still so many people who won’t take this disease seriously!

So far, in just this pandemic, we have lost 450,000 lives, and that’s only in the US. With over 100,000 million Covid-19 cases worldwide, which means at least that many people are suffering, hurting, feeling pain, sorrow, and loss—that many lives changed forever. It’s not over yet! Heartbreaking!

We have so little control when it comes to the Coronavirus. We can only be vigilant and do our measly small parts in keeping ourselves and others safe, but we must do every little bit that we can to not add to the problem. As tiring as it is, it is a simple thing to do compared to the bigger picture. I am grateful that all I have to do is stay safe. Many people in the world can’t say the same thing. All we can do is pray for those people who are in the heat of it all.

Be sure to reach out to someone today and tell them you love them. Life is short, and we are here for only a flicker. Nobody knows how much time we have on this earth. We need to keep our attitudes healthy by filling our minds with hope, happy, positive things like the love and joy that people worldwide are sharing with their loved ones while they do their part to keep each other safe and not add to the problem. This is my wish for each of you so that we can all be happy, positive, and vigilant. This documentary airs Saturday, February 6, 2021, on YouTube; if you are interested in checking out this video called “Life in a Day 2020.”  

A Moment in My Life – Thursday, February 4, 2021

“Hi Dad, how was your day?” I ask my Father-in-law when I call him.

“I’m doing good,” he replies. “I am the same every day. I think I told you. It is the same every day. Nothing changes.”

I asked him what he does all day, and this is what he said. “I go walking a few times a day. I walk the hallways. I go downstairs to where all the people meet. I watch the people and listen to them talk to each other. I never talk. I listen. Now, I stay in my room. There are sick people in the building. They don’t want us to leave our rooms. I don’t go walking out in the hallways anymore. I walk in my room.”

 Dad used to watch TV and read a lot, but now he no longer cares for either because of his vision challenges. In recent years, his day consists of sitting, walking, waiting for his three meals each day, and of course, yours truly’s phone call. Knowing this, I still occasionally ask him, “Don’t you get bored, Dad?” He always answers with a no.  

I am fascinated that Dad could do that. I haven’t successfully gotten him to tell me what goes on in his mind while he sits there. Unlike Dad, heaven forbid if I have nothing to do. I’m a multi-tasker. Having nothing to do, is like a slow, agonizing death. Sitting idle in front of the TV means I fall asleep. That is my response to having nothing to do. Mark used to say that I run myself ragged until I run out of gas, then I drop. He knew me so well. 

A successful day means every task gets checked off before the end of the day. To ensure this, I have daily routines in place. The other day, I heard in an interview that routines make the day fly by quickly. When we were young with no plans, the day took forever to end. The more we do, the faster the day flies. I see the truth in these statements. This truth made me reassess the way I’m living my life. I need to slow down my days.

It’s good to sit idle and take a daily siesta for health purposes, but life doesn’t go on if that’s all we do. We need to keep productive, have goals and accomplishments. Finding that balance is the key to a rich, healthy day well lived. That’s my new goal. I’m scheduling in siesta. Hilarious, I know, but there is no harm in having a to-do list. What’s on the list is what matters most. 

Keeping it interesting, I’m shrinking my routines and incorporating various things into my day. It doesn’t have to be fancy or adventurous. I mean, it could be, if that’s what floats your boat. The important thing is to keep it engaging and change things up to avoid falling into the rut syndrome. I started this new goal by taking a drive out somewhere I haven’t been in a long time just to be doing it, and the change of scenery was refreshing. I returned fresh and ready to get things done. Spending an afternoon in a book is what I crave but rarely have time to do—until now. What about you? Have you been cooped up too long? It’s a gorgeous day, perfect for an outdoor walk, jog, or biking. Maybe challenge yourself to try something on your bucket list that you do today? Anything goes on this list as long as it keeps it from being the same ole every day.

A Moment in My Life – Wednesday, February 3, 2021

On Monday morning, I trekked out to San Mateo after button pressing for 4m19s leading to innumerable Schwab phone options—none led to a live person. I love Schwab, but this was the most user-unfriendly phone system I’ve encountered. All I wanted was instructions on how to make a check deposit at their branch that is currently listed as temporarily closed, but they accept check deposits. It would have been nice if the branch could have provided a recording with pertinent Covid-related how-to instructions instead of a recording that said to reach a live person, enter their names. I don’t know their names. That’s when I decided to take my chances in person and drive out to the closest branch.

It was a good idea to drive to the branch. Yes, it was closed. Nobody there to answer my call had I made one. Only a building security guard was visible in the lobby. Taped on their glass door were the check deposit instructions that I sought. They accept deposits only on Tuesday and Thursday from 9:00-2:00. They listed the three reps’ names and phone numbers to call once I arrived and ready to make my deposit. Success. I got the information I wanted. 

On my way home, I approached 92W, not expecting almost to become Siamese twins with the lone car flying down in the slow lane. I had the median barrier distorting my view a tad, but he should have had a clear view. Since there were no other cars in sight, he could have moved into the fast lane without slowing down, which is what most drivers would do. Instead, he chose to claim his place where he was, causing me to turn a hard right with my steering wheel not to bother him as he sped by without missing a beat. I quickly repositioned my car and continued without any damage. Good, I didn’t feel like dealing with an accident today. A little while later, on 280N, a black and white’s nose was sticking out of a hedgy bushy side patch. I glanced at my speedometer and clocked myself at 70 mph. Good. I didn’t feel like getting a ticket today, either. 

Tuesday. Showtime. Back we go to the Schwab branch in San Mateo. Checks signed—check. Account numbers on the checks—check. Reps name and phone numbers on hand—check. I arrived at the branch in record time. Unlike yesterday, the lobby doors on the parking lot side were unlocked today—another good sign. Once in the lobby, I dialed the second rep’s number with the thought that everybody probably calls the first rep, so I’ll call the second. It turned out that I should have bought a lottery ticket because the representative I chose to call was the one rep on duty. She unlocked the door to allow me inside. It didn’t take long for her to process my two deposits and sent me on my merry way.

After the near-accident encounter the day before, I felt a little nervous on the road. It proved unwarranted. I got on the freeway from the same on-ramp with more cars on the road this time but no speeders. I maintained my 70-mph speed without encountering any black and whites out to catch speeders. The sun warmed my path at a steady 60 degrees. My favorite songs filled the cabin, adding to my pleasant experience making this trip a huge success. Not that I needed a practice run, but since I had to come out twice, it made me feel better believing that yesterday’s trip wasn’t a waste of time but instead was only a dress rehearsal. 

A Moment in My Life – Tuesday, February 2, 2021

It didn’t take much. In a fraction of a second, everything I thought I knew fogged over with a blanket of betrayal and a loss of confidence in my ability to judge a person’s cover. I struggle with trust issues while praising God for the way things turned out.

I forgot all about this incident until this weekend when I turned on the TV, and there was Signed, Sealed, Delivered: Higher Ground airing. I figured I’d watch for just a little while. This series is my vice. There is no such thing as just a little while. Note to self: don’t even start watching. The character Gabe reminded me of the Jazzman. He used to play his saxophone at the Embarcadero Bart station lobby, where we greeted each other every morning and every afternoon during my commute. I knew him only as Jazzman, a friendly, kind, old black man playing his instrument to earn a living. The thing that impressed me about him was the single fact that he was a busker earning his tips instead of panhandling. 

Seeing this classily clad gentleman in his long black wool coat and classic black hat seated on a plastic milk carton swinging a jazzy piece from his old sax while his instrument case lay opened at his feet was a welcomed sight that everything was all right. It became easy including him in my life, and one year I handed him a Christmas card with a twenty inside. He reciprocated with a Christmas card he wrote, “You are my Carnegie Hall,” but not personalized. He never knew my name.

He was like an old friend or trusted uncle; you count on being there every day. I looked forward to seeing him. When he wasn’t at his post, I worried about him and prayed that he wasn’t sick and nothing terrible happened. Instead, he was doing a gig elsewhere. I had never become attached to a street person in that way before. I genuinely cared for him to the point where I planned on inviting him home for Thanksgiving dinner so that he had someplace to go. I had it all planned out and cleared it with my husband. As with the best-made plans, my plan foiled. Jazzman was nowhere to be found for me to extend my invitation. 

I didn’t know then what I know now. In hindsight, I’m glad my guardian angel was watching over me. I don’t know where Jazzman was when I was looking for him, but it was neither here nor there. He never knew my plans, and that’s good. Soon after my foiled invitation, he didn’t show up at his post for a couple of days. One morning, a small crowd huddled in front of a piece of paper taped to the bulletin board near Jazzman’s post that piqued my curiosity. I joined the group for a look, and my mouth fell open at the words on the notice. I stood immobilized, rereading every word in disbelief—The Jazz Man was arrested for murder! 

After a couple of decades of being on the lam for first-degree murder and fraud, the U.S. Marshalls finally caught up with Jazzman, and he was in their custody. He had been indicted in April 1988, and a bench warrant was issued for his arrest for murdering his ex-wife execution-style. He fled before police could catch him. He survived by hooking up with women with kids, stealing their social security numbers, and using names from men he met along the way. He evaded arrest a couple of times by changing his name and location, always managing to stay a step ahead of the untouchables.

I would never have guessed this sweet old man was capable of any of these crimes against him, but what do I know about this man? An empty chill filled the cavity where my heart used to be. It was like learning your elder relative had been lying to you your whole life, and worse yet, wanted for unthinkable crimes. I couldn’t hate Jazzman, but my heart broke for him. Even so, I wanted to believe that he had turned his life around and trying to live right, but he played his cards with his own rules and now has to pay the price to cover his debt. Although Jazzman was a part of my every day, and my story might have been entirely different. I am grateful for my guardian angel and the hedge of protection around me the whole time I befriended a fugitive.

A Moment in My Life – Monday, February 1, 2021

My list of things that I never thought I would do is trailing beyond the length of my outstretched arms, and I’m not referring to my bucket list. Bucket list? Do I have a bucket list? That’s a story for another time. The list I’m referring to is the short, temporary one that I started at the onset of our new norm. Had I known it would be a long temporary, I wouldn’t have used a scratch paper. I didn’t want to waste a full-size sheet of paper for something that would last a month or two, just like I wouldn’t use a sheet of paper for my grocery shopping list. Had I known what I know now, I would’ve used a notebook.

The latest addition to my list was a drive-by send-off for our church’s music director, who ended his season in the bay area and heading back home to Oklahoma tomorrow. I’ve seen drive-by parties on TV only, and quite honestly, I never thought I’d have a reason to experience that for myself until this Saturday. Not that I was eager to say goodbye, but I was excited to experience a drive-by event. So excited that I was heading out for my drive on Friday when I realized I was a day early. Hey, better a day earlier than late.

It was a gorgeous, dry afternoon, after a week of rain, perfect for socializing outdoors. I arrived at the church parking lot at 3:15, Except for one car ahead of me stopped at the curb by the office entrance, it was hard to tell anything was going on. No banners. No streamers. No balloons. No music. Nothing like I’ve seen on television. Welcome to reality! As I drove up closer, I smiled at Pastor Brian, who was talking to the driver. I drove past them and around the parking lot circle to finish off my 20-minute battery charge. I was short two minutes when I arrived. These days, I need every excuse to get in the 20-minute nonstop drive to exercise my car battery. Upon returning from the circle, I parked a car length behind the car still there, and I waited my turn. 

Five minutes later, the car pulled away. I moved up and took its place. Pastor Brian liked my little Veloster. This is goodbye, and he saw my car for the first time. Thanks, pandemic, for this bonus. It was hard to carry on a conversation knowing that we’re on the time clock. We chatted. I tried to keep it peppy. A couple of cars pulled up behind me, and unlike the previous car, I wasn’t going to keep everybody waiting. I handed him the cookies I baked for him and his family and said, “so long,” knowing that we will stay in touch via social media.

That drive-by was nothing like I saw on TV, but it wasn’t a graduation, a birthday, or an event that you dress up with party flair, but it was my first drive-by event, and now I can add this to my list. On that list, I have FaceTime calls and Zoom meetings. I’ve attended, via Zoom, a funeral, a wedding, church service, and business meetings. I’ve supported local restaurants with their curbside food order pickups. I sampled outdoor dining with my BFF and enjoyed it only to have the shutdown order reinstated. I’ve even done a curbside Friendsgiving turkey dinner pickup. I’ve gone for a hike a couple of times with folks keeping our distance up and masks on. I’ve been on both ends of dropping off treats and receiving treats with meeting friends on our porches with our faces covered. And, to top it off, on two separate occasions, I let masked strange men into my home to service my fridge and garbage disposal. Who would ever have thought that we would let in a man with a mask over his face? I never thought I’d do that in my lifetime. 

I would never have considered doing any of these items. I would never have thought we’d live our lives as if we were seeing people through the television screen, but here we are connecting with everybody through the screen or the masks or visors. I know there are many new norm things that I haven’t experienced. We’re not out of the woods yet, but perhaps I won’t need to experience more facets of this “new norm,” and that’s plenty fine with me. I think I’ve entertained enough to sense living life in the pandemic, virtually speaking.   

A Moment in My Life – Friday, January 29, 2021

A few days after we moved into our house, the black bird family dropped by, making themselves comfortable in our front yard. That was a thing they did. There were three of them. I opened my front window blinds one morning, and there they were. My eyes grew wide as I gasped at the sight of these big black birds just a few feet away from me. I swear they were gigantic! The biggest birds I’ve seen this close. They stood as tall as a proud cat. What prevented me from jumping out of my skin was the reminder that there was a window between us. Yes, fear not. Fear what? Oh right, the unrelenting thought of Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds,” and my imagination took it out on this family of crows. 

Over the years, we managed to coexist. Every time we encountered each other, we did our usual thing—run away. That’s called respecting each other’s space. I don’t approve of everything they do, like when they party too hard and lack the manners to clean up after themselves. I get their disapproval of me when I force an early end to their party. I’ve thought a bad word or two of them as I’m sure they have done the same towards me. When it came down to it, we were cut from the same cloth—cowards. Neither dared to say to the other’s face what we thought.

The pandemic forged an unspoken bond between us. Since I can’t go anywhere, they come around and entertain me every chance they get. We toss each other a head nod keeping to the 6 feet social distancing protocol. They try hard to convince me that they aren’t as bad as I think they are. I smirk at that.

Maybe there is some truth. That’s what happens when you get to know each other better. You start seeing who they are when nobody is around. Then, you know what they are made of. Like the other day, Chad, yeah, I named my buddy, as I was saying the other day, Chad, thought he was all alone. There was a piece of something that looked like wet cardboard on the ground that attracted him. Unlike a seagull who would swoop in before you knew there was something there, Chad hopped, yes, they hop, around securing it while he surveyed his surroundings, making sure nobody was watching. He moved in closer, continuing to hop around the thingy—too polite to dive in. He’s the dinner guest who wouldn’t begin eating until everybody was seated, and he would wait until the host started eating. After a long hop, Chad closed the gap and politely pecked at the thingy while nervously confirming nobody was around. I stood behind the blinds out of sight, not to spook him, I mean, not to disrupt him. After further inspection, Chad went all in and lifted the thingy in flight. Earlier, his companion did a similar hopping dance around a piece of French bread without spending as much time as Chad had.

Looking back, I realize that I had no reason to fear these birds. They fear me as much as I feared them. They are more like us than I knew. We’ve act coyly in similar situations. They have needs and desires just like we do, and they get intimidated along with the rest of us. I laugh now when I remember the panic that I felt the first time I saw them outside my window. Now, I see them as another creature that God has made. We’re not that different. The only difference between us is that we were made human, and they were made the black birds.

A Moment in My Life – Thursday, January 28, 2021

“Have you ever seen the rain comin’ down on a sunny day?” I grew up dancing to this great song like everybody else. It’s been a cold and stormy week. Playing this song feels right—comforting. Did you know many artists have sung this song with their twist added for effect? I never realized the plethora of renditions until I searched for this song on Amazon Music, and it played one version after another for hours. It’s incredible that the same tune, same lyrics could invoke a different emotional response with the teeniest variation. In the end, all versions were enjoyable. My favorite is still Creedence Clearwater’s version that excites a smile on my face and fires up my rhythm to a groovin’. This song has always been nothing but fun and peppy until I heard Bonnie Tyler’s edgy and powerful rendition that tugged at my heartstrings in a way that I never expected.

“Have you ever seen the rain comin’ down on a sunny day?” Have you ever listened to the words? I sang along but not until Bonnie struck a core; did I “hear” the words. Goosebumps tingled while a heat blazed within as the unacquitted emotions ignited new life to this song. A song that squeezes my heart when a friend announces she now has more in common with me due to her husband losing his fight with Covid-19. She gets the roller-coaster emotions that widows go through now. Only until she experienced it herself did she get it. Same for me. I empathized but couldn’t wholeheartedly sympathize with other widows until I experienced what they went through. 

At the time of my late husband, Mark’s demise, more people than I could count offered to be there for me, which was kind, but mostly, those were simply words of consolation. As time passed, it was life as usual for them. It wasn’t that they cared any more or less for me. It was what it was. Bonnie’s powerful voice delivered the lyrics forcing me to “hear” each word, and it finally made sense. We live by experience. With each experience, we understand the good and bad, ups and downs, sadness and happiness. We know what others are going through, having been there ourselves. It’s a blessing that none of these people have gone through the loss a widow experienced. Yet, as consoling as they would like to be, they are not equipped to do so without the experience, which I don’t wish upon any of them. This goes for other life situations as well. We can’t fully comprehend a loss of a child, parent, or any other loved one since each relationship is unique. There is no one size fits all for these situations or any circumstances that life tosses us. 

“Have you ever seen the rain comin’ down on a sunny day?” You won’t get it until you have. Yes, I have seen the rain comin’ down on a sunny day. When that happens, you can see the smile on my face and follow the glisten in my eyes to the rainbow in the sky that reminds us of God’s promise never to flood the earth again. It reminds me that regardless of what life throws at us, we will go through the trials for a while, and in time, we will be okay. God sent people to be with us so that we won’t be alone. No experience necessary. The only thing that anybody could offer, sincerely, is their friendship, love, and perhaps a hug, along with their companionship. We may not know the words to say. That’s okay. The important thing is to be a sounding board, a shoulder to cry on, or even just a breathing body to fill the room with warmth. People are our rainbow, and once again, I’m dancing to the song, “Have You Ever Seen the Rain.”

A Moment in My Life – Wednesday, January 27, 2021

It’s not something you see every day, so it made me do a doubletake. I see walkers on the sidewalk along Orange Memorial Park regularly, but the walkers look, with some variations, all the same. This one particular walker was far from the same. Something about him lured me up to the windowsill of my stairwell landing on tippy toes to get a better view. It took me a second to assess what was curious about this walker, and there it was—the long red tip stick in front of this middle-aged man, walking alone. I stood taller on my tippy-toes, bringing my face closer to the window to peer down the street, both ways—nobody else in sight. What the heck was a vision-impaired man doing walking outside by himself? With a hand shielding the sun’s glare, I watched this man—intrigued—with every step and every tap of his cane on the concrete beneath his feet. 

If not for the red-tip cane, I wouldn’t have suspected his challenge. At a glance, he had a normal gait. In my fixation, I observed the man taking slow, heavy, yet precise steps, carefully planting his footing on the ground while maintaining his dignity. His head moved with each step as he has some vision through his gold-rimmed glasses. I stretched as much as possible to catch the last glimpse of this man that awed me with his independence.  

The memory of this stranger imprinted itself on my mind with more and more fascination and curiosity. Who was he? Where did he come from? Does he live nearby? Why was he out alone? Does he have someone in his life? Was he walking alone by choice or necessity? I probably would never see him again. I can only imagine the answers to my questions. I guess he has loved ones, but he is a proud man who appreciates his independence and doesn’t want to bother anyone. If not that, I imagine him stepping out of his comfort zone to tackle his fears, starting with overcoming this challenge’s limitations.

Regardless of this man’s story, he got me thinking about myself and other people without handicaps. Too often, it doesn’t take much to prevent me from going outside walking alone. I used to wait for my late husband, Mark, to come home from work to go walking together because I didn’t want to go alone. Other times, I was the queen of excuses. It’s too late, too cold, too windy, too hot, or I’m too tired. The list goes on and on. I’m sure this man would welcome any or all of my excuses over his challenge. 

I know many people who rely on family members or friends to take them places or help them do things, and I understand that it’s okay to ask for help. That’s a lesson that I’m still acclimating to, but I am referring to other tasks that folks can do for themselves but don’t. Most of the time, it’s for spurious excuses like I had about walking. The old saying, “You don’t use it, you lose it,” is profoundly true. The longer we dodge something, the harder it will be. I’ve learned being self-sufficient is preferable to relying on others. If say, I can achieve the task myself, but someone offers a helping hand out of kindness, then that is a blessing. Otherwise, it’s imperative to our independence to step out of our comfort zone to do some things ourselves. Even without a challenge hindering me, I look into the future and fear losing my ability to do something. This fear keeps me trying because practice makes perfect for maintaining my independence, just like the man with the red tip cane.

A Moment in My Life – Tuesday, January 26, 2021

I’ve seen a slogan with some version of “if you could see it, you can be it,” with many people fully immersed in this belief. It falls along the lines with the old saying that a business we knew used to encourage their salespeople with, and that was to “fake it until you make it.” Some folks go with “I think I am; therefore, I am.” What about you? Do you have an adage you live by? I’m on the fence. Maybe, that’s my problem. It doesn’t work for me because I’m on the fence. I would love for it to work, though. If it works for some, then I would imagine that it could work for the rest of us. 

This is the same as a vision board, which I’ve seen creativity showcased at its best on some boards. I made a vision board once, in 2018, when I began using a Christian Planner. I went all out with the whole shebang—with colorful quote stickers and inspirational pictures of where and who I wanted to be in one year, five years, and beyond. I was quite pleased with the stellar results. If only it paid off. That year, nothing I envisioned on paper happened. The reality I lived in was unimaginable. I could not have planned a smidgen of what was to come. It was a year spent watching my strong, virile husband shrivel and deteriorate to skin and bones as he suffered painfully to his last breath. Now, I understand why God moved us to a house near a hospital, which became our second home. We were in and out of the hospital—if not for his cocktails—transfusions, and chemo, or his regular ER visits or surgeries, then it was his hospital stays. It became his home away from home on his way to heaven. By the end of that year, I couldn’t bear to look at my vision board. 

It’s the beginning of 2021, and I can finally flip open the page to my 2018 vision board. I can’t read through it yet, but it’s a start. Every day is a new beginning, and I am trying to keep positive, keep moving forward, looking ahead, and expecting good times. I’m not quite ready to do another vision board, but I’m all for trying the envisioning method.

Here goes, I see myself with my City Girl tote bag, filled with my writer’s gear, resting on my shoulder as I stroll into my favorite Starbucks where I order a Mocha Malt Frap and set up my MacBook at a corner table. This is home for the next few hours as I drift and meander within my fictional world. It’s been way too long since I last rooted myself at a coffee shop to write. Being a survivor, I’ve managed to beat most people at being obedient to the Stay-at-Home order, but lately, I am fidgety and eager to get back out there. No, I won’t, though. I have way too much common sense to do anything I shouldn’t do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t want it.

I see myself seated at a table with stacks of my newest book in Barnes and Noble, where a line of fans with my book in hand patiently inches closer to getting my autograph. I see myself jumping for joy as I read the credits “based upon a novel by Jeannie Yee Davis” that appear on the TV screen for a new Hallmark movie. 

I think that’s enough for starters, don’t you? Now, that I did it. We wait. We shall see how well this envisioning method works. I, for one, am rooting for success. I got a lot riding on this. I want to be living proof that if I can see it, I can be it.