These Three Words

The first time she left me a note, it was scribbled on a shipping label with black sharpie. This was the norm for a while, but as the months rolled by I went to retrieve the mail, and spotted a small, white envelope laying atop the mail. Nestled inside was an actual thank you note written in ink, but then today inside my mailbox there laid a postcard and her words filled me with a sense of ‘mission accomplished.’ I believe there’s three words which are more meaningful than the three we give away daily and they are…

I appreciate you.

Who is ‘she’?

My mail carrier.

Being a mail carrier is not for sissies, especially in the Texas heat, so all year long I’ve let my mail carrier know…I appreciate you. Sometimes I’d leave her a Starbucks card because it seems to me you’d need a torrent of coffee to deliver mail! If I had two of something, one was left in the mailbox for her along with these three words. If you hear the same words long enough they become believable, but it’s imperative the words you hear refresh your soul and help you grow. My mission was to put these three words in front of my mail carrier until she felt them and by the note she left today it’s confirmed.

Who is in your daily life that longs to hear these three words?

Feature Photo by Stéphan Valentin on Unsplash

The Wall of Kindness

Today’s reading is talking about Celestine Moments. “Carl Jung called it “Synchronicity”: two seemingly unrelated events that cannot be explained by cause and effect but are uniquely linked by personal meaning.” ~Sarah Ban Breathnach-Simple Abundance

I walked into another Starbucks this week and this was maybe the second time I’ve stopped by this location. It’s at the end of a shopping center with no drive thru, so you have to walk in. It was quiet with one girl working behind the counter. I strolled around taking in my surroundings before placing an order and that’s when I saw it on display. The Wall of Kindness.

There’s a pad of sticky notes and ink pens provided to leave a note of encouragement. You can also take a note from the board if needed, but what really got me were the notes that said things like, “I come here everyday and this gets me through”, or “This makes my day!” Of course I left a note, but it’s been rolling around my mind ever since.

What if I created something similar in my community? There has to be a bulletin board somewhere not being utilized…maybe at the library, Community Center, Fire Department, or even outside the Police Station? The list of possibilities are endless, but I feel the need to put action behind the ideas. What if each of us did something like this in our own community?

If we’re going to a build wall…let it be a wall of kindness.

Rest in Your Natural Self

The meme used as the feature photo was created by my daughters, boyfriends, father. That’s a mouthful. My friend Jeanne on WordPress recently discovered that I’d let go of Letitgocoach for this blogsite and she called this blog, my ‘secret’ blog. I hadn’t thought about it, but it kinda is. I’m not here to be seen, but I’m grateful to be read. My hope is who reads what’s written here will gather a sense of peace and stillness to surround them in their circumstances.

I spent Saturday repotting plants. Just moving them into a pot one size larger than what they were in. The next morning they looked happier, a little more free with space for their roots to roam. I repotted one that I’d been procrastinating repotting because it’s large, yet fragile. I didn’t have the right type pot for it, so went in search for one at a couple of garden centers, but this guy is 5′ tall, so I wanted a lightweight pot to be able to move it with ease. Lightweight equates to plastic, which I’m not a fan of. As I stood gazing at the large, plastic pots on the shelf of the garden center I wondered, ‘I know you’re plastic, but why must you scream plastic?’

While shopping, I knew there’s a pot sitting in my yard that would work, but it’s made of clay. It’s heavy when empty, so I couldn’t imagine how heavy it would be filled with dirt and a tree. This plant was so root bound, I had to cut the container off of it, but once I placed it in the pot, it stood tall. I watered it thoroughly while outside knowing once I brought it inside, I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage watering it again. (Still pondering that) By God’s grace I was able to carry it inside, back to it’s designated place by the double windows. It has new growth and in this pot it can breath a little easier, and spread out a little more during the winter months which is similar to what my heart whispers about this blogsite.

It’s a new pot just one size larger than the last…a place for your roots to roam, but will reveal signs of growth, yet all the while finding rest in your natural self.

The Throw Away

I don’t really know how old he is. I asked him once, “When is your birthday?”, and he looked at me and said, “Now Barbara…that’s just rude!”

I wasn’t asking to figure out his age. Just thought it would be kind to drop him a birthday card in his mailbox. This man is my neighbor and somewhat of a Guru. If I ever have a question about everyday life, I ask him because he will have an answer. If he doesn’t know the answer, he will find it.

There are clues of a well lived life. As of now, he lives alone with a couple of dogs, but get him talking about his past, and he refers to, ‘We’, so there was a ‘we’. He was in the Navy, and still has a love for the water. He used to own a boat, but I feel something tragic happened because he sold it, and doesn’t like to talk about it. When I tell him, “Mr. M, you have an answer for everything!”, he says, “No Barbara, I’ve just been here longer.” I’ve lived beside this man for almost 4 years, and still don’t know how old he is.

After Christmas I excitedly reported to Mr. M that my daughter gave me a cordless drill, so he wouldn’t have to walk over with his every time something needed fixing. He shared his philosophy with me about drills. He hasn’t invested in a new one in years, so the ones he buys are considered throw aways. They only last a year, or two if you get a good one. They’re refurbished and he picks one up at the junk shop for $20 as needed. I know he’s getting up in age, but it’s like he didn’t want to outlive a drill.

He’s looked at the really nice ones at the home improvement stores, but they’re expensive and an investment. What we invest into this life, determines the quality in which we get to live. That day we were having this conversation while sitting on his front porch, but as I stood to leave I told him…”Mr. M, it’s okay if your drill outlives you.” I saw him a month later, and he proudly showed me his new Ryobi drill.