As I’ve mentioned here before, one of the richest memories of my life is how I used to get up at 5:30 in the morning with my dad. It was our time. We’d eat GrapeNuts and tell each other about the miracle(s) we’d seen the day before. I still try to like GrapeNuts and I still try to look for miracles every day.

Finding the miracles has been harder for me latley. I might notice (my word for 2015) lovely people, places, or things, but I’ve allowed circumstances, over which I feel powerless, to cloud my ability to recognize them as miracles. That’s gotta change.

Here’s how I’m going to change it. Yes/And. I completely accept the reality that YES there are many things going on the world, over which I have no control. AND while I continue to attend to what I can, I’m going to focus on the light, the good, the possible, along with the people doing the light, good, and possible.

YES, the divisions, gloom, fear, and darkness will still be around. My focus, however, will not be as glued to it, as it has been lately. I’m going to focus on the power of miracles. When I find myself tempted to dwell in the negative longer than is necessary, I’m going to seek out AND people, places, and things. AND people, places and things are the miracles Daddy and I used to share with each other daily. I’ll share some of them with you here.

Stick with me here.  I promise to make my point.

Mom was born on July 18, 1925.  So she’s been alive 33,469 days.  She’s been living in an assisted living facility for 696 of those days.  And she’s officially been in hospice care for 49 of those days.  

Since she’s been in assisted living, I’ve contracted with an outside caregiving agency to provide extra care/company/TLC in the morning and at bedtime. Side note –  in case you forgot, or never knew, I’m a recovering banker.  So I pay attention to cashflow.

Recently, I’ve witnessed a shift in Mom’s night-time rythm.  She is sleeping even more and needing care/company/TLC even less.  So I made the decision to call the next day and cancel that night shift of outside care.  The night I made this decision, I called to say goodnight to Mom.  For the first time in weeks, she was able and willing to talk.  She was loving her rice pudding and warm milk and even laughed. She felt and shared The Love. This continued through this week.

So do I cancel that night shift?  Nope.  Not yet.  It’s not Time.  I get that I’m paying for rice pudding, warm milk, laughter, and love. The time will come. It’s not this week.

YES, Mom’s moving closer to Heaven, AND  she ain’t there yet. So rice pudding, warm milk, laughter, and love are great companions.  

I know I’m not alone on this sacred journey with a parent.  I hope you’ll share your “rice pudding” message with us all.