A woman looks up, hopefully, at a shining, twinkling star.

The Little Things

Standing in the kitchen and looking out the kitchen window, I feel a burst of joy. One that comes when I am out in nature. I feel such peace. The robins wear active, pecking in the grass. A blackbird just flew into the yard. The pups are spread out on the deck, enjoying the sun. There goes my husband as he walks out to the pickup. I smile. There are the warm fuzzies I get when I watch him. As he drives away, I realize how amazing my life is.

It wasn’t always this way

Once upon a time, I let the little things annoy me. What is a little thing on a Wednesday, might be a big thing on Thursday. During that time, I was in the fast lane. I worked long hours and got annoyed with the early morning chirping. There wasn’t time for the warm fuzzies and I didn’t spend much time watching tv.

I spent a lot of time on the computer with work and playing long-distance games on the computer with my kids. We have realized that time does fly. That no matter how we try, we cannot get pause to slow time.

Expectations and comments

The expectations that I had for myself were vast. I was a super person! Frequently I would hear others talk about how I have always been so organized.

Hearing that is kind of like hearing “You're overweight. Are you exercising and eating right?” Rather than telling them again that “I have grazing rights since I’m on prednisone again” I would try to brush it off. It was like a tumor that I would let hang on me.

I caught myself doing that the past couple of weeks too. Somehow, I had goofed things up and really had to struggle to get my computer programs back and functioning. I'm so grateful for the patience and help that I got to get through this. I keep thinking that I used to be able to sort through these things easier. That even with the added tumor of low self-esteem on my back, I could keep it hidden.

Worries and wonder

I still do that. I look at things happening around us, the coronavirus and those I know who have been sick and even passed; the rallies and bitterness that are going on; and so much more. It’s a helpless feeling that not one of us can fix alone. The fear of knowing what can happen.

We are concerned for our loved ones and those we know. Even those we don’t. I think that I am Wonder Woman.

  • I wonder why I can’t fix things for others.
  • I wonder where my mind is.
  • I wonder how to do things.
  • I wonder why I can’t do things as I could before.
  • I wonder why people can move ahead but I stay stuck.
  • I wonder why oh why.

I wonder why I’m afraid to take off the tumors so that I can move ahead to a place for me. I wonder why I could resent others being able to make peace within themselves. I can see the pain in their eyes, yet they move ahead.

My husband

There is my husband, with sincerity in his eyes and maybe a twinkle. He has health issues too. He wants me to find peace at my level. He tells me that it isn’t just being sick, but we are getting older too. He tells me that even without my dentures, I’m beautiful. He looks at me and I get the twinkle in my eye. We can slow dance in the kitchen. He can remind me not to go so fast, but to find a speed that won’t affect my breathing.

He reminds me that it’s really hot and muggy, so I best stay in. He tells me to quit trying to carry things because it affects my back and legs. I can also get short of breath. These little things aren’t criticisms, but little messages of love. You see, each of us is different in the way we talk, the way we think, and the way we are. Once I could accept that, I began to see things a different way.

I feel peace

Even with COPD and a host of other chronic illnesses, I feel peace. I love watching the garden and other yard ornaments and goodies in the yard. Watching the birds as well. Every so often a garter snake crosses into our yard, and it’s a treat to see them. The puppies running in the yard are beautiful as well.

You see, what my husband has given me is a window to things that bring happiness and joy, that bring peace. As he drives away to his job, I realize how blessed I am that I am not stuck in the house or carrying any other tumors. I’m leaving them behind and realizing that I have the skin on my back to protect me from things that I often allow to bring me down.

Opening that window

I can’t change my COPD, but I can work to slow its progression. With the pain from my back and legs, I can allow myself to take a nap or rest and it’s okay.

I had to learn to open that window too. To let the annoying and difficult things pass through. COPD fits in that area too, annoying and difficult.

Today I choose to open that window and put a twinkle in my eye. There is no hurry for anything. For the first time in my life, I’m going to say that I am finally able to find my own adventure here and to make peace with my world, my COPD health, and myself.

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