Wiser Than Me

My heart is full as I anticipate gathering as a family for another day of Thanksgiving. My eyes become moist with tears when I realize that each and every day should be a day of thanksgiving in my life.

Reflecting on my blessings helps me better understand how easy it is to get wrapped up in the blanket of ingratitude. One thing that has helped me peel off that blanket is the study of the tragic and sad parts of the history of the world where men have treaded upon the rights of their fellow men with impunity. I am humbled as I think about the pain, heartache, and suffering that millions have endured because of the greed, pride, and selfishness of a few. While there is sadness in my heart for all these atrocities of society there isn’t anything I can do to change the past. But there are things that I can do today to help make someone’s life less pained and less difficult.

I recently attended a cousin’s reunion back in the area where I grew up. There on those dusty country roads of East Texas years ago, I ran barefoot, played in the woods, found ancient Indian arrowheads and dammed up the creek to swim in the cool water that washed away the heat of a summer afternoon. As I washed away that heat I didn’t realize that at the same time I was bathing myself with memories that would remain with me all my life.

In those carefree days we ran shoeless and shirtless except when coming to the supper table. We felt safe and loved under the watchful eyes of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Within their care we weren’t able to stray too far from the course that those “wiser than we” had planned for us.

As youth we were full of energy and enthusiasm. There weren’t enough daylight hours to do all the things we wanted to do. As we ran through the house headed for the front door that opened the world to us, often the last words I’d hear were “Don’t slam the screen door.” We’d be gone until hunger drew us back to Granny’s house for hot rolls or pound cake and cold milk.

As an adult I gradually began to realize that not everyone had such an innocent childhood. “Why me?” I’d ask. Why was I so blessed? Then I realized I had very little to do with it. It was the people around me that made such a safe, watched-over childhood possible for me. Today, many of those adults who kept a close check on me are gone from this life. They may be physically gone but their memory is very much alive inside of me. I’m reminded of a saying I once saw on a grave marker, “A life well lived, lives on.” The lives of my deceased family members live on in my memory. And every good deed I have done in life is in part a result of their good example and love shown to me.

How grateful I am for my heritage. I owe so much to those who went before me; more than I can ever repay. What small repayment I can make is to help someone, lift someone, encourage someone, or compliment someone. There is a familiar saying, “I can’t do everything but I can do something. What I can do, I will do” with a feeling of gratitude for those who nurtured me in my youth and who were “Wiser than me.”

Each day of our lives can be a Day of Thanksgiving. Though we may not eat turkey, dressing and cranberries each day, we can certainly create a day of thanksgiving in our own lives and in the lives of others as we reach out and touch them in gentle ways. May Heavenly Father’s blessings rain down upon you and bathe you in the soft memories of those in your life who had a positive influence on you and at the time were “Wiser than you.”

Butterflies on the Wind

It didn’t make sense but I decided it didn’t have to make sense to anyone but me. The cold water sliding over my bare feet sent a November chill up my body as I stepped out into the water and shoved my canoe down stream and jumped in. I had floated the Green River the previous six years and vowed that I’d do it again this year. Summer slipped into fall and other responsibilities crowded out my scheduled trip down the river.

The desire to experience the solitude and beauty of the river wasn’t dampened by the turning of the weather. True, slipping out of the canoe in the middle of the river and cooling off from the hot summer sun wouldn’t be my experience with this trip. But that didn’t discourage me from thinking of and looking for the blue herons, the turtles, and the occasional cougar footprints often seen down near the edge of the water. Dipping my paddle in the water using a modified “j” stroke that works best for maneuvering a canoe all alone, I set up a rhythm and the ripples that ran off my paddle and splashed back into the river with each stroke became music to my ears.

That music in my mind recalled another trip down the river when two of my daughters were paddling and singing, their voices drifting down the river like soft butterflies on the wind. Each time I thought of that day a lump rose in my throat and my eyes became wet with tears of tenderness. I was filled with gratitude as I reflected on the love that my children have shown me all my life.

All day long I paddled and enjoyed the wonders of the river. As darkness chased the winter sun close to the horizon and I began to see my breath on the calm air, I knew it was time to find a sandbar and camp for the evening. I took the wood from my dry pack and started a small fire. An Indian saying came to my mind as I sat and watched moths dance around the small flames. “An Indian builds a small fire and is warmed through and through while the white man builds a large fire and is too hot on one side and too cold on the back side.”

As I sat there in the darkening evening I was warmed by the memories of past river trips as much as I was warmed by the fire. I looked up and once more witnessed the multitude of stars in a moonless night and felt so much gratitude for all my blessings and opportunities in life: family, friends, freedoms fought for by others, and my health. Looking up at the night sky brought to my heart again and again that although I sat alone on a wintry riverbank I did not feel lonely in this vast universe. Appearing small and insignificant in comparison to the expanse of the huge star filled sky, I didn’t feel small when I thought of the love I feel from those I hold dear. They have treated my feelings as though they were soft butterflies on the wind just like the music my daughters created with their voices on this river one summer day in my life.