Grateful for the Believers, a Guest Post by Kate Bolz

Today is one of my favorite days each month, book club! Food, friends, book talk. . . this might just be my gratitude Graceland. I am so thankful for Kate. At nearly every book club, after it feels like we’ve exhausted the discussion, Kate says something wise and insightful, something that makes me better, and spurs action toward serving others. I love having people like that in my life. Today, and especially every book club day, I’m thankful for Kate Bolz. – Evi

***

Today, I am grateful for the world’s true believers.

Here’s why:

I recently decided to run for public office.

For some people running for office is a career move, for others a performance on a political stage, for others a reach for power.

For me, deciding to run for office has been a leap of faith. As a social worker with small town roots, I don’t have the connections that some politicians do.

I do have heart and belief that public service is another way to be of use to my community and to live the values of caring for our neighbors and loving one another that I learned in a church pew.

So putting my name out to the world is a leap of faith that my beliefs will be reflected back to me.

So…deep breath…and say it out loud: I believe – in Democracy, in fairness, in access to health care and in the good ol’ USA. Then ask others if they believe too. Repeat for 16 months.

It’s a hard time to jump in. Has public life ever been quite so ugly?

But the chorus of believers has been music to my ears.

People are encouraging and kind, hopeful and helpful.

People pick up my belief with me when it gets heavy.

People show their belief with contributions and greeting cards.

People proclaim fiercely their belief in policies that protect human rights and the right to make a living farming.

It’s a congregation of sorts, a choir of a kind. It’s more than just believing in me, it is also keeping lights of hope and a better world alive.

Truthfully, it’s an odd system: one that is inextricably tied to campaign contributions. It may not be the fairest system, but it does put power in the hands of true believers.

So today I am grateful for the believers, for the fierce believers who fight, for the believers who say yes, for the believers that write postcards and knock on doors, for the believers that light their candles and hold them up so others can see what’s in their hearts.

To the believers like you, reader, who believe in a better brighter world, show it in your thoughts, words and deeds, and express gratitude for the beauty that comes back to you – I say thank you.

  • Gratitude challenge: Give away your belief today by giving time or treasure or by lighting someone else’s candle with your own.

Gratitude Gal Giveaway: Diane Harpster Art Calendar!

Here’s a picture of the calendar cover. Thanks again Diane!

Diane Harpster is a Nebraska artist friend of mine. Like me, she loves color and quotes. This year’s gratitude party giveaway is a wall calendar of her art . To enter to win, comment here on the blog, Facebook, or Twitter with one-three gratitudes. You can also send them in a direct message or an e-mail.

Thank you so much Diane for sharing your gift! Check out all of Diane’s awesome watercolor/ink drawings at her website. I love this quote she shares there. I hope it gets you inspired to bring something unique and beautiful to the world today.

We are all artists with something unique and beautiful that only we can bring to the world.  The joy comes in honoring and nurturing and sharing whatever that is. Our ability to create is all gift from God our Creator.

Diane Harpster

When Trickster Gratitude Sneaks In

Martyr says: ‘Life is pain.’ Trickster says: ‘Life is interesting.’

Elizabeth gilbert, big magic: creative living beyond fear

I used to have this wine glass that was, ahem, really more the size of two wine glasses.  It sat flat on the table, no stem.  It’s side was etched in tall skinny lettering, “THIS IS MY HAPPY PLACE.”  Subtle, huh? Early in my teaching career, I would come home from school, pour myself a glass of wine in that glass, flop down on the couch, and say a prayer of thanks that I was NOT at school anymore. 

It’s funny how recently I’ve stuck a little sticker on my paper-clip holder at school that says the same thing, “This is my happy place.”

I’m not sure when my happy place started to be school too.

In my becoming a teacher (I think I will be becoming one forever), I’ve always been reading along the way. I love books about just about anything, but my favorite topic is creativity. In her book on the subject, Big Magic, Liz Gilbert identifies a shift from martyr energy to trickster energy.  The martyr sits down at the keyboard to slog out her words, dutifully, and dreadfully, HA-TING every minute of it.  The trickster, does just what her name implies, fooling herself into doing the task at hand, and maybe even into enjoying it

Instead of tight-fisting inspiration, trickster dances a bit with hands open, ready to catch it.  She still shows up dependably, still puts in her hours, but with a different outlook.  She notices what works for her.  If writing comes easy at 5 a.m., that’s when she writes.  If she can avoid evening writing sessions, she does so as a gift to herself.

But trickster energy isn’t just for writers. It’s for teachers and moms and anybody who just plain needs a break from all this martyrdom.

Sound crazy?  Here’s a classroom example . . .

Toward the end of class once, I was telling a group of students a story–as I tend to do.  This normally rowdy class of 26–that I could NEVER get to pay attention–was leaning in and listening.

I was reading Big Magic at the time, so my trickster self noticed, and the next day when I was struggling to get their attention, annoyingly waiting with my hand up yet again–I’d tried the clapping thing, the lights out thing, the choral response thing–instead, I pulled my hand down and said, “I’ve got a story to tell you guys,” and I began telling a story before they were all even listening. 

And as my mouth told the story, my mind started smiling at these students, totally tricked into listening–you could hear a pin drop–so when the tale wove back to the day’s plan, they heard it without being asked or classroom-managed into complying with their attention.  While this might not sound like a big deal, for me as a teacher at that point in my career, this was alchemy.

For the trying can wear us plain out. Teaching, mom-ing, just Tuesday-ing can be exhausting. And trickster energy just might bring us back to life.

It’s the trickster who says, “Do you want to wear the blue coat or the orange coat?” knowing full well her son doesn’t want to wear a coat.

She’s the one who decides that supper can be simple and made from things we already have!

She’s the one who knows it’s possible to do a teacher happy dance without moving a muscle, smiling at how this daunting calling can also sometimes feel light, like a puzzle piece that slides into place. . . a happy place.

Gratitude Dare

  • Eat that frog! Do the thing you’ve been putting off. . . maybe with a little trickster energy. Marge Piercy says, “the thing worth doing well done has a shape that satisfies.” Sit back having accomplished something in a new way, and say thanks.

What’s One Thing You’re Thankful For?

“When I started counting my blessings, my whole life turned around.”

Willie Nelson

“So kids, before I kiss you good night, tell me one thing you’re thankful for,” I say as I stand in the glow of the doorway, half in and half out.

“Family,” Charli says, smiling.

“Cheese,” Oliver says, smiling bigger.

“Both fantastic answers,” I think as I kiss her little blonde head, and as I wrestle his little giggling face back out from hiding under his covers. “Gotcha!” I say as he wipes his cheek off, smiling.

Two kisses.

Lights out.

Another day of thanks.

Gratitude Dare

  • Ask someone what they’re thankful for. . . especially kids. If you’re a teacher, pass out notecards and have students write three things and share them out loud. It’ll change the room.

It’s the Little Things

On a cork-board above my green writing table I’ve pinned a bunch of little things I love. Concert tickets, kid drawings, quotes, a tiny colorful flower doodle I made with circles. After awhile the board gets cluttery, and I need to Mari Kondo it and simplify. Through a number of purges, this paper flower torn from a notebook makes the cut and gets hung up again.

It’s a little thing I love.

When it comes to gratitude, we can’t do it wrong, but there is a way I’ve found to do it that adds to the magic. Zoom in. Don’t just write–“I’m thankful for my son.” Write–“Ollie’s freckles as he crunches up his nose telling me how proud he is of his first ever loose tooth.” Instead of–“A Nebraska Sunrise,” I write–“Orange sky fading to blue behind tree silhouettes.”

It’s a slower kind of noticing that we, frankly, don’t have time for. But in that slower gaze, a snowball starts rolling down the hill of my life. I notice the little things more often. And when the big things come, I have a sort of permission-slip to sit and soak in the room. And no, you can’t soak in everything. But what if I would have missed my five and seven-year-old dancing around singing Feliz Navidad as they decorated our glowing Christmas tree? (Yes, I’m that early-decorater person the Internet loves to hate.) It was a holy time in our home–my biggest gratitude from my week–and at the start of it I was reading on my phone. Gratitude practice reminded me to put it down. . . and look around.

To be alive is a terrible and wonderful thing. And sometimes the goodness can overwhelm me.

Parker Palmer says the deepest and greatest truths are held in paradox. So while it may be 100% true that this life is so so hard. What if it’s also 100% true that it is the most rare and holy of things? This week the Internet has been celebrating Fred Rodgers, and yet I often scoot by his most profound lyric when I hear again and again. . . “It’s such a good feeling. To know you’re alive.” It really is. It’s the little things. . . and the big ones too.

Weekend Gratitude Dares

  • Enjoy an after school/work/noon treat.
  • Clean out a cupboard.
  • Soak-up time with family and friends. . . I’ll be back here posting on Monday. Thanks for reading along.

Throw Some Love out Into the World (Guest Post by Janelle Andreini, a tribute to Cindi McNair)

I love this guest post for many reasons. 1. It’s by one of my best friends, written for her birthday, today (Happy Birthday Janelle!), 2. It’s about Cindi, one of the most inspiring women I’ve ever known (here’s her own guest post from 2016.), and 3. Like this rose photo by Curt, Cindi had a way of shining beautiful and fierce through even the bleakest storm. . . Thanks Janelle, for celebrating her spirit. – Evi

My friend Cindi died just over a year ago – on November 6, 2018.

That seems like a pretty strange way to begin a conversation about gratitude.  I realize that.  The truth is that I’m carrying around the weight of that loss a bit more heavily this week than I have in a while.  It’s a bit of a shadow looming in the corner of my vision, although it also comes with a certain humble awareness that you have to love before you can mourn. Anniversaries tend to bring this out in a person, I suppose.

Here’s the deal.  If I’m going to talk about gratitude, I can’t really think of anyone that I’d rather talk about than Cindi.  She was a gratitude champion, somehow managing, even in the last months of her life, to think about others, to put plans in place to serve others, to raise up the needs of others.

Cindi lived with multiple myeloma for over a decade, and some of us had the incredible privilege to catch a glimpse into the process by which she was able to LIVE with multiple myeloma, the ways in which she sought to relegate it to the sidelines of her life and the ways in which she actively made the choice to not be defined by an illness.

Remarkably, somehow, she was defined by gratitude.  By “Glory be to God” and by “I saw God at work this week.”  It was pretty mind boggling, really. While the rest of us lamented our work woes, our parenting woes, our “I don’t like my haircut” woes, Cindi was quietly choosing to relish her life.  She loved her husband well, she connected with her nieces as if they were her own children, she mentored the heck out of her friends.

Cindi recognized the challenges of her illness, though.  She would remind us that she didn’t expect that she’d get to “15 or 50” – her reference to a milestone anniversary and a milestone birthday.  Amazingly, though, she did.  And when Cindi turned 50, do you know what she did?  50 random acts of kindness. Notes in the mail to friends, $5 bills on the windshield wipers of strangers’ cars, coffee for the person in line behind her at the coffee shop, and more, and more, and more, until she got to 50.

Also, by the way, today is MY birthday. It would be pretty darned easy to just sit back, soak up the call from my mom and from close friends, check out the Facebook birthday shout-outs, you know…just generally focus on me.  But instead I think I’ll follow the lead of a mentor and friend and throw some love out into the world.  Gratitude in action, my friends.  It’s a beautiful day. Enjoy!

Cindi – from Moving Mountains for Multiple Myeloma

Kind Communication with Kiddos

Today is World Kindness Day. So along with many of my co-workers I’ll be donning my #bekind shirt and sportin’ a cardigan. . . admittedly, the cardigan wear is not atypical for me. Many spots online connect this day with Fred Rodgers. I’ve always known Mr. Rogers was nice and kind, but in reading about him lately, I’ve come to realize he was an educational genius

His programs were meticulously scanned to make sure they met with early child education research. He would comb over the scripts to make sure that the lessons were appropriate developmentally for his viewers. It wasn’t so much about what he said as it was about ensuring what they heard. His way of speaking and communicating became jokingly known as Freddish.

Fundamentally, Freddish anticipated the ways its listeners might misinterpret what was being said. For instance. . . (in) a scene in a hospital in which a nurse inflating a blood-pressure cuff originally said “I’m going to blow this up.” Greenwald (a former producer of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood) recalls: “Fred made us redub the line, saying, ‘I’m going to puff this up with some air,’ because ‘blow it up’ might sound like there’s an explosion, and he didn’t want the kids to cover their ears and miss what would happen next.”

Maxwell King, The Atlantic, 2018

While this might sound extreme–what kids would really cover their ears?–If you’ve worked with kids, you know this might be an ultimate kindness, for little humans trying to make sense of the world. And who knows, it might be a kindness if we would employ this level of thoughtfulness when speaking to anyone, regardless of their age. So today I am thankful for this man who not only reminds us to be kind, but encourages us all to think more about the words we speak. For a Language Arts teacher, there’s nothing much better–except maybe a day where it’s finally cool to wear a cardigan.

For Jaxon, For Service, For the Good Life

I am so thankful to my co-worker, Jake Davenport, for sharing his story on the blog today. Jake is our business teacher and he earlier served in the Army National Guard. In this week where we honor service men and women, I am so glad to work alongside someone who makes a point to honor those who served in wars, and who works hard to help our students day in and day out. – Evi

When my wife (Shiloh) and I found out that we were expecting our first child we were ecstatic. We were ready to start a family. Shortly after, we found out that there were complications with our son’s development. Multiple doctors confirmed the diagnosis and it became clear that if our son survived the pregnancy and birth, he would never be able to come home with us. The odds we were given were a 50% chance of a live birth and a life expectancy in the minutes. The following months were painful, and we leaned heavily on each other and our family for support. 

When the day finally arrived to meet our son, we felt a flood of mixed emotions. We had everyone there (a priest, photographers, and our entire families) although we didn’t know who we would allow to enter the room. His birth went smoothly. In the moment when we heard his cry, everything was perfect. Jaxon blessed us with seven hours before he passed. In seven hours, he was baptized, met his family, and spent every moment in our arms. It has taken time to understand just how blessed and grateful we were for having Jaxon. 

I do not tell this story for sympathy, quite the opposite. Jaxon was an amazing blessing. The seven hours were a blessing. The support that we had from the community, our family, and each other was a blessing. Time has changed my attitude from “Why us, God?” to “Thank you for him, God.” My gratitude for my son and his unique situation has had a residual effect on other areas of my life. I find myself more grateful in general, though I know there are many things I still take for granted. 

Around November 11th every year,  special attention is drawn to the Armed Forces and Veterans and reminds me just how grateful I need to be for our way of life. To preface my writing this next part, I want to be clear that I do not, nor have I ever identified myself as a Veteran. Varying definitions would make my use in reference to myself controversial anyway. I served an eight year contract with the Army National Guard but never made sacrifices that would warrant such an honorable title. 

During my time in the Army National Guard, I was required to leave home for short periods of time ranging from three weeks to 6 months. When I first joined, at the point I was at in my life, I enjoyed going. As situations in my life changed (adding a wife and kids) my attitude changed as well. Leaving became tougher and life goes on without you. I am thankful that my support system was strong and remained largely unchanged but that is not the case for many, and I’ve witnessed this first hand. Spouses grieve the absence of living service members or simply grow impatient and many find another. Children are born, take their first steps, have birthdays, and say their first words. Friends and family members die. Many times the opportunity to return home for these events was unavailable, but often the opportunities are passed up due to an unwavering sense of duty. Some do not ever come home. They did that and continue to do that for me, my family, and all of us. 

I love this country. I love Nebraska. It truly is “The Good Life” (Nebraska State Sign, 2019). Yes, I take many things for granted. Life in America is intended to be that way. It is easy to understand that something works, but it takes reflection to understand how something works. The service members of present and past generations are the “how” for our way of life. I thank God for the centuries of selfless work provided by our Military to build our great country. I thank God for everything that I was afforded the opportunity to take for granted. I am thankful for Jaxon, for service, and for the good life. 

12 Love-Filled Books about Grieving

Yesterday was Peggy’s Birthday. My kind mother-in-law died over two years ago. She was many things, but in the truck yesterday, our kids remembered how fun it was to fish with her, and how much she loved them. We loved her. We still do.

And yet I found myself thankful yesterday as saying memories made me smile a little more and hurt a little less than a year ago. Yes it hurts, but she really was a gem. She let the kids blow bubbles in the kitchen, and she had the very best smile. I miss her.

A friend reached out to me recently asking for book ideas as her family grieves. Pam Dineen, the founder of Mourning Hope, helped me find books, so I thought it might help someone to pass these titles along here on the blog. Today, on this Veterans Day, I am thinking of veterans (they fill my gratitude list and post tomorrow), but I am also thinking of folks who grieve: the ones who are angry, the ones who are sad, the ones who can’t feel much today, the ones who are confused, and the ones who find themselves–in moments of time-grown grace–saying thanks.

For Adults

For Kids

For Older Kids

  • When Someone Very Special Dies by Marge Heegaard is a consumable (draw and write in it) book that processes them through. Pam described it as, “An oldie, but a goodie.”

My last recommendation isn’t a book, but an app. The Calm App, along with yoga, have been helpful to me. It costs 59.99 annually, but is free for teachers. Doing a 10-minute meditation/centering prayer with this app has helped me to notice and to be less scared to feel.

One other shout out is to Mourning Hope itself, Pam’s organization in Lincoln. They have grief groups, one starting in January and another in March, once a week for 10 weeks for school-aged kids and their caregivers. They also have 8-week groups just for adults, and it’s all totally free.

All of these books are linked-up through Amazon, but I know Indigo Bridge, Francie and Finch, and A Novel Idea Bookstore in Lincoln are great local resources. Plus, The Centering Corporation out of Omaha ships books fast.

We loved baking cookies with Grandma Peggy.

Think About That Stuff

Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Phil. 4:8

In Sunday School at our country church growing up, I had a teacher who had us memorize one Bible verse for what felt like a really long time. She knew that good teaching feels repetitive, and that our brains can memorize things better with a mnemonic device. Hers was TNRPLAEP. Every week we would come to our little classroom that was encircled by by foldable tan curtain-walls, our church shoes clicking on green and white floor tiles, and use pencil to paper to fill in each line:

  • T – True
  • N – Noble
  • R – Right
  • P – Pure
  • L – Lovely
  • A – Admirable
  • E – Excellent
  • P – Praiseworthy

The final words of this passage essentially say – think about THAT stuff. How often this week has my mind been hanging out there. . . pondering lovely things? Welp–not all that often. The tendency for me, at least, is to magnetically move toward the other stuff, to hang around there like a hog rolling in the mud.

Redirecting with gratitude, just like working out, takes practice.

We can buy all the exercise clothes and memberships in the world, but if we’re not actually sweating it out, um. . . it’s not the same. I can have memorized TNRPLAEP until the cows-come-home (this farm girl loves that phrase), but if I’m not doing it, making a point to turn my thoughts that way, it doesn’t always happen. I can write gratitude blog posts all week, but if I’m not really writing my own list, um. . . it’s not the same.

The cool part is that, just like working out, gratitude has a snow-ball effect. One of my friends has texted me lately on Saturday mornings to say, “Hey, wanna go to spin class?” Reading this with one eye squinting at my cell phone from my comfy, warm bed, I hardly ever want to, but her encouragement has more than once got me sitting up and moving. When I do make it over to the fitness center, I’m thankful for talking with my friend, thankful for what sweating does for my body and mind, and thankful for how I feel after a workout.

So here’s me, your friend who likes to write stuff, texting you in these early morning hours, “Hey, wanna think on some gratitudes, maybe even write them down?”

Here’s my list today, I’m doing more than three since I’m not feeling thankful–and if I’m honest–I haven’t written any yet this week. I’ve been doing the blog writing and forgetting the very thing this is all about. So here I am, starting again, for like the one-millionth time, but trusting the practice and it’s magic, Spirit-filled way of moving me back to thinking about THAT stuff and seeing more of it today.

  • #1: Curt’s awesome picture of a Jelly Fish, I love the colors and the soft focus.
  • #2: Ralph’s yummy pork-gravy-potatoes supper last night. Yum.
  • #3: A funny e-mail about grammar.
  • #4: A funny meme in an e-mail.
  • #5: Pink and purple Nebraska sunrise clouds
  • #6: A stack of seventh-grade writing that made me smile in more ways than one.
  • #7: My green, antique writing table.
  • #8: Leftover Halloween decorations on the window.
  • #9: A new idea. . .
  • #10: Starting up holiday book clubs in the library.
  • #11: Little hugs around my waist from elementary kiddos each day at school.
  • #12: Celebrity-level gasping recognition while handing out Halloween candy, “YOU’RE the library lady! You live here?”
  • #13: Seeing a combine moving through a half done field, thinking of my dad.
  • #14: Seven-year-old practicing a Christmas song on the piano.
  • #15: Candles and snuggly socks
  • #16: Jodi’s heart and her guest post this week.
  • #17: . . . it’s Friday. Cheers to the weekend. I’ll be back posting Monday. Thanks for coming to the #gratitudeparty.