Forgive. Love. Live.

My stepfather died last Friday night. I haven’t seen him in 35 years, and I talked to him on the telephone just once in the past 20 years. That awkward and difficult conversation took place a couple of weeks ago when I found out he was very sick and near death. When I heard his days on earth were limited, I knew right away that I would call him. But, this was not an easy call to make.

You see, my stepfather was very cruel to me as a kid – emotionally and physically. He battled alcoholism, and his struggles turned into my (and my family’s) struggles. His pain turned into my pain. I could list many examples of the cruelty, but what’s the point? I don’t think he deserves that and it would serve no purpose. Quite honestly, I don’t think I can bear to even write it here.

I will, however, point out that the pain was absolutely unbearable at times. One of the first emotions I recall having as a very young boy was that of fear. I was afraid of him. Mostly, I was afraid I would never feel a father’s love. It was absolutely unbearable for a very long time.

I didn’t see it back then, but the fear and pain caused me to run away from my emotions. It led to me, many years later as an adult, nearly losing my soul. Love is at the core of the soul. No one should ever lose that. And, I almost did. I was THIS close.

So after more than 40 years I stopped running. I got back to my soul, to the love that was present in my earliest days on this planet. We’re all born with it. I had it. But in a flash it was gone, and I lived with that for a long time. On the surface, things were absolutely fine. Inside, though, my soul cried every night.  And just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, a power greater than all of us grabbed me, held me, and whispered to me, “It’s time to stop running. Get back to your soul.” The attempted escape was finally over.

I don’t have words to describe the power behind that love. But, that love definitely surfaced when with trembling hands I dialed the phone number to my stepfather’s hospital room. That love sparkled when he answered and I was able to talk to him. That love shined when I told him I didn’t hate him. That love glowed when I told him about my three wonderful sons. And for a brief instant, only one instant, I think his love peeked at me when he said he was really happy I called. It was nothing more than a glimpse into his soul, but I know I felt love that I had so desperately wanted as a child. It was love I so badly want and need even as an adult.

We talked a bit more, and I wished him well. I told him I’d pray for him. I told him I hoped he prayed to a higher power, to God. When we ended the call I cried like I was five years old again. And when I first heard he died last Friday, I collapsed to my knees and cried even harder. I felt a powerful wave rush through me. I believe it was God washing away my pain, finally and forever. I believe it was God washing away his pain, finally and forever.

Sting wrote a song entitled, “Why Should I Cry for You?” He wrote it for his father after he passed away. I have listened to that song many times in the days since my stepfather died. I’ve also answered some of the questions that the lyrics pose. It’s helped me come to grips with my past, and my present.

Sometimes I see your face.

The stars seem to lose their place.

Why must I think of you?

Why must I?

Why should I?

Why should I cry for you?

I cry for you because I forgive you. I cry for you because I believe your soul is also full of love. I cry for you because I honestly believe your soul is now free and its love will surface, sparkle, shine and glow.

Underneath it all you were a human being. That’s why I think of you. That’s why I cry for you. That’s why I love you.

Eternal Love Always Finds a Way

I received one of the greatest gifts of my life today at 9:16 a.m. The unexpected half minute of bliss came in the form of a voicemail message. The message was from someone I don't even know. The person who left the message didn't intend to leave it for me.

Or did she?

When my cell phone rang earlier today I looked at the caller ID and didn't recognize the number, so I didn't answer. Shortly afterward, I saw that the caller left a voicemail message, and I listened. What I heard over the next 30 seconds nearly dropped me to my knees. In a grandmotherly voice sweeter than any tea I've ever sipped on a hot summer day, the caller left the following message. I must note that these typed words don't even come close to capturing the joyful tone behind it all.

She said:

"I just had to call you to thank you for the card, the beautiful card. And, I want to repeat what you said to me, because it's my turn to say thank you for being my friend for so many years. It's always meant a lot to me. And, especially the hug I get with it. Alright? I love you, honey. And thank you, and have a good day. Bye bye."

My heart jumped. I felt flushed and physically lightheaded. And I cried.

The voice sounded exactly like that of my late Gram, who will have been gone for three years on June 2. I think of Gram often. Very often. Lately, however, as the anniversary of her death approaches, Gram's smell, smile and voice permeate me. And right there, unexpectedly left on my phone, was a message from a voice strikingly similar to Gram's. It blew me away.

While I knew immediately that the stranger's voicemail message wasn't really intended for me, I knew immediately that it really was. I know it was. I just know it.

I dialed the number from which the message came, and an answering machine greeted me. I tried another time or two throughout the day and also connected with the answering machine. Still later, I tried again. I had to speak to this woman. Finally, she did answer, and the next five minutes were even more blissful for me than the 30 seconds during which I first listened to the voicemail message.

I told the woman I received a message from her that I'm quite certain wasn't meant for me, and I wanted to let her know so she could call the person for whom it was. She laughed and apologized for bothering me, but I stopped her before she could finish her sentence. I thanked her for bothering me! I thanked her for leaving a message much like those my Gram used to leave for me. I thanked her for making me think of my beautiful Gram more vividly than I have in the three years since she's been gone.

Helen proceeded to tell me how kind I was. She then asked, "Do you know how old I am?" I told her I had no idea, and she replied, "I'm 104." Wow! This gentle soul then explained to me how she has outlived most of her friends, so she has to make new ones. Did I mention yet how blissful this conversation was? I was humbled to be her new friend, if only for a few minutes.

Helen and I spoke a bit longer and bid each other a very fond farewell. I told her I will never erase her voicemail message, and if she ever wanted to call me again she is most welcome to. I'd love to talk to her anytime she wants.

As I prepare to head off to bed tonight I am left feeling grateful for a sweet living soul who found a way to connect me to my Gram's sweet eternal soul. One of the last things I told Gram before she passed away was, "We'll always be connected, Gram." And she replied, "I know we will."

Yes, Gram, we are connected. We all are. Now I have proof.

To Sons From Fathers

To my boys ...

I've been thinking a lot the past few months about how quickly you're growing up. Sure, you still have so far to go and grow, but I see you changing, pushing, maturing, becoming independent, making good decisions (as well as some terrible ones) and trying to figure out who you really are and how you fit in.

I love you so much and want to protect you so badly. I want to shelter you from this oh-so-harsh existence. Yes, it can be a cruel world--a world full of bullies with inferiority complexes; egotistical coaches who doubt; girls who will break your heart; and certain and serious consequences that accompany alcohol and drug use.

But I can't do it. I cannot protect you from these things. I cannot shelter you from life. From the bullies, from the coaches, from the girls, and from the pressure you will feel from others to use alcohol and drugs. Your experiences, especially those of the painful variety, will shape you as much as my own actions and words will shape you. You need it all. That's just the way it works. It's a plan designed by someone much greater than all of us. Everything--and I place great emphasis on everything--shapes you into the person you are meant to become.

Those painful things that shape you often also require action on your part. That's where the growth really kicks in. That's how you build spiritual muscle. It's how you mold character. The rewards await.

When you see someone bullying, do what you can to stop it. 

Is it fine for a coach's doubt to break you just because it hurts? No! You work harder, and you prove him wrong because you are good enough. You are better than enough. 

Should you not date for fear of a painful break-up? Don't be silly. Reach out and offer love with all the passion you can muster, because the right love will reach back when it's time. 

And for God's sake when you get pressured about alcohol and drugs, use the moment to find courage in your soul. As I noted above, think of the certain and serious consequences. I felt those pressures. I know the difficulties associated with saying yes and with saying no. Trust me on this one. Walk away. It's a softer path. You won't be alone. Someone will follow. They won't all follow, but someone will.

Throughout life you have to stand up, show up, face every situation head-on, pray for strength and acceptance, take action when necessary, and walk through it. Process it. Feel it. Really feel it. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts. Go through it all. Grow through it all.

And guess what? I will be with you the entire way. No, I can't protect you from everything. But, know that I will hold your hand. I will feel your heart. I will keep you as close as you will let me. I will offer my experience. And when you don't need that, I will simply offer my strength, and I will listen.

In most blogs I seem to find my way back to Gram. As I've told you many times she was always there for me when I needed her. Always! Gram used to keep a broom on a hook outside near the back door of her house. Behind the broom was another small hook, on which she kept the key to the back door of the house. I recall many times going to Gram's house late at night, many times unexpected and just needing someone. I always found that key, and inside I always found Gram. My safe haven.

I don't have a key hidden behind a broom hanging on our house. But the door will always be open. I will never let you down. My hand will always be warm. My heart will always be in tune with yours. And my love will never waver. 

Go. And grow!

Why should I cry?

I cherish Christmas Morning. I cherish the Joy. Love. Peace. Mostly, I cherish the Hope.

I am extremely grateful to awaken to a house full of blessings. I am grateful to see gifts under the tree for my children. I am grateful for the sleepy eyes that greet me, screaming "Santa came." Mostly, I'm so grateful for the peace I feel in my heart--especially today.

Indeed, I am full of Joy, Love, Peace and Hope today. But I also realize there is a lot more to this day than what rests under my Christmas tree, under my roof, and in my own heart. My thoughts go to others. I think of young boys and girls who woke up to nothing today. Boys and girls waking up hungry today. Abused today. Scared today. I think of them, and I cry for them.

I also think of family members whose hearts ache today. They miss their father/husband/grandfather, who unexpectedly passed away this summer. Some miss their mother, who had been sick and last week went to a place we call "better." I think of 26 souls. I have no words for that type of pain. So I simply cry.

I think of my mother, who is providing care for her husband as he slips from her grip. I think of my brother, who is fighting demons that have separated him from his wife and children and mother and brothers. Damn those demons. Damn them! Especially today.

So on this day of Joy, Love, Peace, and Hope, I've gone away from everyone for a moment to be alone and cry. To cry for those children who simply wish today they had a warm meal and a safe haven, let alone a gift from Mr. Claus. I cry for those who miss their loved ones. I cry for my mother. I cry so hard for my brother. My God, he must be lonely today.

I cry because Grace lets me. I couldn't always do this. I only knew how to hide from these feelings. But today I feel so many others pain, and it reminds me to live with passion. It reminds me to be Joyful, to Love, to be Peaceful, and to have Hope.

I cry because it's a release. Some might think that feeling others' pain on this morning is a curse. But it's a blessing. It releases me from "me" and puts humanity front and center. It makes me feel grateful. For life. All of it. It tells me to have Hope.

So to those who hurt this morning, I cry for you. I pray for you. I have Joy, Love, Peace for you. Mostly, I have Hope for you. This Hope is a gift you cannot see. You can't touch it. You can't buy it at Macy's. You can't get it online. However, you can feel it. Please feel it.

This Hope is inside all of us, just waiting to be grabbed. Sometimes we simply need inspiration to help us see and feel it. We need to open our eyes. We need to care about others and their pain. We need to cry for them, and Hope for them.

Hope, especially today--when something much larger than all of us gave us the greatest Hope the world has ever seen.

Inspiration Speaks

I’m finding a wealth of inspiration these days, and I’m certain the reason behind it is the Season. This wonderful Holiday Season. The inspiration stirs my soul. My soul then needs to speak, and it relies on me to relay its messages. So here I am again, writing another blog that will hopefully inspire someone, help someone, calm another, and maybe even change someone by striking a heart-felt chord.

This wonderful Holiday Season I mention wasn’t always so wonderful. At times, as a kid, it was excruciatingly painful. Ironically, it’s exactly such pain that has turned me into the joyful person I am today.

I am light years from perfect, but pain taught me to stand up, do good, be good, and to help others whenever I have a chance. It taught me to cherish everything life has to offer. It taught me to recognize and appreciate my very own heartbeats, and it taught me to listen to the breath of others. It can be so simple, yet so vast. I appreciate it all.

The Holiday Season wouldn’t be complete without its Holiday-themed movies. One of my favorites is The Polar Express, and as I watched recently with my sons my attention kept going to the inspirational messages the train conductor was hole-punching on the tickets of the children who were riding the train to see Santa.

The words are so simple, but their meanings can be so vast as they relate to my life—to any life. Just like the Holiday Season inspired me to write this blog, these movie messages inspired me to write a few words of my own about them within this piece.

“Depend on. Count on. Lean on.”
Growing up, I really never felt as though I could depend on many people in my life. I attribute that to the chaos that my alcoholic stepfather created in our home. I should have been able to depend and count on and lean on him but I couldn’t, and that insecurity carried through to many others in my life. Once you are tainted so significantly, you begin to look at others through very cautious eyes.

This being said, as an empowered adult I now take every step possible to let others know they can count on me. I don’t have much materially to give, but I will listen, I care, and I will offer my heart. This most especially applies to my children, as well as to every young person I meet. You can depend on and count on me. You can lean on me. Know that.

I have also learned that I can depend on, count on, and lean on others, too. Slowly but surely, my soul has become more trusting. I know there are people who listen to me, who care about me, and who offer their hearts to me. I depend and count and lean on them. It really is a “we” thing.

“Learn.”
It is clear from my previous few paragraphs that the conductor’s hole-punched “learn” message is one of the most important of inspirations. While I suffered through some painful and distrustful times, I also learned quite a bit from them. I didn’t always recognize that I was learning. In fact, I’m sure I ran, in ways I wasn't always proud of, from those feelings and situations for quite a while so I wouldn’t have to deal with the reality.

But, I did eventually realize that I learned from those times, that pain. I felt it as a kid, and I reprocessed it as an adult a few years ago so I would be sure it was taking its appropriate place in my being. Everything shapes us. The good and the bad and the very ugly. Accept. Process. Learn.

“Believe.”
This one particularly applies to the “simple yet vast” theme I mentioned in my opening lines of this blog. Believing, as we all know, is easier said than done. And, as such, I keep this one as simple as possible. I don’t need to know the why behind everything that happens. I just need to believe that all will be well.

I go back to my youth again, the most challenging time for me to believe. Through it all, I did keep believing. If only a belief the size of a mustard seed, I believed.

Today, my belief is immense and far-reaching. I need to believe in something outside of me, much bigger than me. I’m not sure exactly what or who that is, but I believe. I really do. I believe in me. I believe in you. I believe that all will be well.

“Lead.”
Finally, we have “lead.” We gather our experiences from depending, leaning and counting on others. We take and file it all, and we learn. We come to believe in ourselves, in others, and in something much greater than all of us. And then, we lead.

We lead so others can see us overcome. We lead so others can see us succeed. We lead so others can see us depend and lean on one another. We lead so we can help others learn. We lead so others can see our belief at work. We lead because we owe it to each other. We lead because lights are meant to shine. Others see the light. They then hear their own heartbeat and another’s breath.

I’m inspired every day, but especially every Holiday Season. The Holidays were the most painful times of my life growing up. And now, they are the most joyful and inspirational. The reason for that transformation is so simple, yet so vast: I depend on, count on, and lean on you. I learn. I believe. And I lead.

That’s life, baby.

Love. Is. Everything.

Many people much more talented than me have written so much about Love. That includes songs, stories, poems, statements, theories … you get the idea.

Peter Gabriel sings in his song, Book of Love:  “The book of love is long and boring. No one can lift the damn thing. It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing.”

Sting sings about Love, in his Sacred Love: “Don’t need no doctor. Don't need no pills. I got a cure for the country’s ills.”

One of my all-time favorite statements on Love was penned by the late great M. Scott Peck in his book, The Road Less Traveled. Peck wrote: “Ultimately, love is everything.”

When I think of Love I try not to complicate the meaning behind it, how it works, what it means, and so on. I keep it simple, as I try to do with all things in my life. Simplicity keeps me grounded and out of deep left field attempting to analyze life and failing to draw conclusions. Indeed, I try to simplify.

Everyone deserves Love. Everyone is entitled to Love. I am sure that many of the anxieties and insecurities in my life stem in large part from the Love I never received from a very mean-spirited stepfather. I didn’t realize this until the last five years or so. In realizing it I was able to then deal with it, accept it, move on, and grow. In Love.

I find Love in so many places in my life. The irony of that is that the Love I experience it isn’t always Love directed toward me. It’s Love I see in others. It’s Love shared. It’s Love in action. It’s Love in small gestures. It’s Love in smiles. It’s Love in laughter. It’s Love in a breath. It’s Love in a heartbeat. It’s very much Love in the eyes of my children.

Yes, I see Love all around me. It’s plentiful, but we don’t always take time to recognize it. It takes awareness and a gentle heart. Stop. Look. See. Feel it. It’s there. I appreciate it. It makes me happy. It makes me feel … Loved.

I was driving to work recently and saw a man holding a little girl while they waited for the girl’s school bus. As I neared them I saw the father laugh playfully with the girl, tickling her, and she laughed and put her head near his. Tender. That is Love. It was a wonderful moment for me at the beginning of my day.

I almost pulled my car over to tell that man how much I appreciated his gesture of Love to that little girl. The next time I see something similar, I will stop. Everyone deserves Love. And everyone who gives Love deserves to be thanked for doing so.

I am a firm believer that Love can heal a soul. I know it happens. I’ve seen it happen. It healed mine.  That random Love shared between the father and daughter … that’s the stuff dreams are made of. It’s Love. It heals.

To that man on that morning: “Thank you for sharing your Love with your daughter. And with me.”

Feel it. Alive. Now.

Hey, too long between musings … it’s time for a blog. Quick one.

Sorry for the scattering of phrases and incomplete sentences. But this is how I quickly jotted it down on a piece of paper today. So, this is how I’ll write it. I don’t want to try to explain these feelings too much. I don’t want my written explanations to distort the feelings. They’re too real—can’t possibly explain with a written word.

Here goes …

Feel it.

Almost five years ago I made a decision to put down a bottle. Or bottles. And, suddenly, I picked up my life, and my bliss. The bottles, it appears, were distracting me from realizing that bliss—from realizing my life. My body. My mind. My soul. From realizing it all.

But, now, I continue to feel like never before. I’m fully aware. Of my life. My body. My mind. My soul. All.

And I cherish it. I hold on tightly to each moment. And savor it. And then let it go. And it keeps repeating. Like cotton candy sugar on my lips.

Peace. Bliss. They are internal. Always there. Unseen. Awaiting discovery. By me. By us all.

In the past five years I’ve managed to also lose some of my “self.” Others first. As much as I can. In losing my “self,” I gain so much more. Others’ happiness … that makes me happy.

And I’ve become more fit. Mentally, physically. Emotionally.

On the physical side … endorphins are a wonderful thing. The natural version. Organic. Not sold in stores. The world doesn’t give them. Can’t take them away. It’s inside. All of us. Me.

I’ve always had it. Now I know it. Now I need it. Now I know how to get it.

Give. Be active. For my body and mind. And for others. Motivated.

Write, too. So good for me.

Mostly, love.

Just love.

Ultimately, love is everything.

That was quick, but felt good.

Go ahead. Feel it, too.

Feel it.

Peacelove

T