The Blessings of Those Gone Before

When I started this blog years ago, one of the ways that I found to generate content was to share emails that my Grandma Tawanka had written me while I was in college. Yes, I was in college a good number of years ago--about 13 years to be exact. And 13+ years ago, the Internet was still in it's infancy. Email, while I was in undergrad at UNC-CH, was still checked with a dial-up Unix program. The idea of a user-friendly interface was a strange and evolving idea, but had to be done, because not everyone could remember that ^X was Cut and ^V was Paste. But, I digress.

Realizing that I had some blog momentum that I'd started building last week, I needed to post something to keep it going. And I thought I'd return to that old crutch: sharing my Grandmother's wisdom. Now, it's not that I took that wisdom for granted; in fact, many people have told me over the years how wonderful and what a blessing it was that I shared those thoughts. It's just that it became awfully easy for me to pull out one of Grandma's thoughts, instead of thinking up my own topic.

So, as I navigated to the files where I keep Grandma's emails, I began to realize something had happened. That something was that I had effectively posted all of Grandma's emails before my blog fell off a cliff into utter oblivion.

And . . . well, that's just tearing me apart. Although I loved re-reading and sharing her emails, not having them to read and savor as I format them and get them ready for you to read means that she's gone once again. And though we were never terribly close (we lived on different coasts of this great country, you see), I LOVED getting those emails from her. Really, at that time, no one else I knew had a Grandma who would email them. It made me realize how special I was to her.

So, though I'm sad that I don't have any more words of wisdom to share with you from my Grandma, I hope you'll look through the blog for the posts tagged with "Grandma's Thoughts" and find one that you like.

Because they're all there. And I hope you, too, will take a blessing from those who have gone before us.

Peace of Mind

(February 26, 2000)

Peace of mind is a jewel looked for in the worst of times and in the best of times. It's the feeling we get when we turn off a busy road to a secluded spot along a country lane. Peace is suppertime when the sunset gilds every window and a quiet contentment makes man and nature akin. It is a warm bath, a soft pillow, a shaft of moonlight that touches the spirit.

It is knowing that things can work out: peace comes and life is worth living.

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you would risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the sheer adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

We never really lose anyone, if they were ever a part of our lives. The important thing is not to regret what has gone before but to take from it the lesson and the experience that was in it for us.

Life is a two-way street: not always sunshine and flowers, but a few clouds and a few tears go with it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own . . . if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tip of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself . . . if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore, trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see the beauty even when it's not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of a full moon, "Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for your children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

When all these questions are answered, then I can look with tranquility inside myself and say:

"With beauty above me, I lie down . . .
With beauty around me, I lie down . . .
With beauty before me, I lie down . . .
With beauty below me, I lie down."

Peace to all,
Mom (Tawanka)
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Though I am close to completing Tawanka's emails, I've come to notice they've been saved out of order. I had hoped to post them in order, but alas, I have not.

That said, I've looked over the last several that I have to post and realize that this is the last email that Tawanka ever sent. She died less than two weeks after this email. It is one of her longer emails, but certainly one that, I think, sums up much of what her emails tried to convey: the love, peace, and her particular way of looking at life.

* Sigh.* Miss you, grandma.

Moving Past the Past

(February 11, 1999)

Many things from the past echo within us--voices, sounds, thoughts--some of them best forgotten.

Sometimes, we remember just so we can be grateful. Like the well-fed dog that turns primitive at the sight of a bone, we pick up on our own instincts and react before we think.

If we see what is about to happen we can meet it with good humor and have less need to make everyone in the present time pay dearly for what happened so long ago.

Peace,
Tawanka

The Value of Remembering

(February 11, 1999)

Many things from the past echo within us--voices, sounds, thoughts--some of them best forgotten.

Sometimes we remember just so we can be grateful. Like the well-fed dog that turns primitive at the sight of a bone, we pick up on our own instincts and react before we think.

If we see what is about to happen we can meet it with good humor and have less need to make everyone in the present time pay dearly for what happened so long ago.

Peace,
Tawanka

The True Cost of A Lie

(April 22, 1999)

In the early days, the mother of a young boy suspected that he had become involved in a conspiracy and was being used by his friends to do wrong. She said, "Open your eyes and ears and listen to me. I have always taught you not to lie."

Liars are lost in a world of their own. We have seen it glamorized in a world of make believe until the real world has difficulty telling the truth, even when there is no reason to lie. A lie, in whatever form, is deceit and deceit is a major block to stable lives.

The biggest lie of all is that lying is in any way harmless. To follow through the with the Big Lies leads to mass destruction, whether in our own lives or the lives of many others.

Dear God, we pray that no other child will believe the lies that these boys did in Colorado.

Peace,
Tawanka

Small Can Equal Very Strong

(April 14, 1999)

Great strength exists in the smallest things.

A spider's web is so exquisitely formed, a fragile gossamer remnant. But it is stronger in proportion to size and weight than the finest steel.

The hummingbird's wings send out impulses strong enough to resemble the throb of a tiny high speed engine . . . but early on, it was thought that because of the way its wings were constructed, it could never fly.

Love can be a mere glance, a brief word, a silent touch. But it reaches past time and space.

Prayer, short, deep . . . a word from the heart and spirit can work miracles and change a whole world.

Reach out!

Peace,
Tawanka

Choosing to be Wise

(April 12, 1999)

Most arguments are traps of one kind or another. Let go, and realize that what is happening should be avoided like poison. The argument is on the other side . . . leave it there.

The best revenge is to refuse to fight--and it brings to mind what someone said: "If you argue with a fool, you will end up being one."

Peace,
Tawanka

More on Change

(April 11, 1999)

If the wind was a person, we would probably say something nasty about him. The more we try to ignore it, the more it seems to intrude . . . blowing away the fruit tree blossoms before we have seen them . . . whipping the lilacs and irises when their beauty is at its peak.

It carries seeds of wildflowers and drops them in unexpected places to please us. It helps to unfurl new leaves and to bring rain.

Changes, like wind, have to be endured at times. But eventually we understand and often like the results. It requires our patience--which gives us time to prepare for what is to come, the same way we have patience with a windy person that blows and goes but means well.

Peace,
Tawanka

The Joy of the Season

(April 7, 1999)

It seems only yesterday when the first cold wind blew in and laid flat the wild roses and turned their canes gray. Leaves turned and dropped. Snow fell and drifted. Winter threatened to last forever.

But it didn't.

Spring runs in and out like a child opening and slamming a door just to irritate us. The birds are flirting and the wildflowers are beginning to show their heads.

It is time for a change--not only in nature, but in us. We enjoy the break between winter and spring. In our mind's eye we can see the wildflowers spreading their fragrance along the fields.

It is with the same eye that we see ourselves blooming with health and prospering beyond our dreams.

Only those who walk under a cloud miss the joy of this time, the open fields and greening hills.

Peace,
Tawanka

Grief and Moving On

(March 31, 1999)

This is a new day. The more we let yesterday's unhappiness slide away, the sooner we come into the fullness of the present.

Sorrow will fade.

The new hour will bring new experiences, new jobs to do. We will coax all the sweetness out of every hour and it will sing for us like a bird.

Peace,
Tawanka

I need a little levity . . .

and wine. And writing. And reading. And sleep. And so many other things.

And I really, really just wish I had a little bit of peace.

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(April 13, 1999)

The quiet companionship of a comforting person is like balm to the soul.

Like Mother Earth, (s)he absorbs the shock of pain and erases the wounds, and even the scars with time. These people seem to be able to take our hand and walk with us through the difficult places they have already traveled.

They keep us from the loneliness that pervades our experiences, waiting for a word that we have passed through safely. And best of all, they never bring it up again, but let the past take care of the past.

Their eyes are on tomorrow, their hands on the present time so that we never hear empty echoes and are never reminded that we were unhappy. And then, we, in quiet ways, can reach back and take someone else's hand.

(I think we all know someone like this.)

Peace,
Tawanka

I Really Could've Sworn She Was at Shelton

I think it comes as no surprise that I became much closer with my paternal grandmother in my senior year of undergrad. She was wired, and stayed that way, even though she lived alone on a mountain with a small dog and the great outdoors in Spokane. It was her way of staying connected to her progeny, especially those of us far away, who wanted to hear from her, who'd share things with her because we knew she would listen and give us good counsel.

When she passed, just a few months after I graduated, I didn't truly get the opportunity to grieve. Now, as I honor her memory by posting her thoughts here, I'm blessed by the presence I feel.

And I'm not really surprised at all that she showed up at Shelton this past weekend to check on me, my mom and my dad. Angels are just good like that, you know.

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(April 2, 1999)

In the old days, the aged were the story tellers making history and religious values alive and important. In recent times, we make our old ones think they are not important. We spoof their stories and make them feel foolish.

The truth is that we are ignorant of what is precious. Rigidity can creep in and set in young minds if there are no soft memories, no laughter, no times too deep for tears.

Age is grace-a time too valuable to waste.

Peace,
Tawanka

And a glorious Easter to all.

Questions for All

(March 27, 1999)


When we were born, we could not walk or talk or even focus our eyes. But the ability to do all these things and more was born in us. By continual effort, we still grow and learn and develop our identities.

We learned early that we were not a bird and not an animal. And this is where personality begins to question--then, what am I? Who am I? Why am I here?

Is this an identity crisis?

No. It is a belief crisis.

Peace,
Tawanka

Move On, Already!

(March 22, 1999)

We grieve for the loss of things, or persons, ache for what we cannot do, but there is a day when the sun finally shines. We can make it.

Time heals more quickly when we decide to let it. It is written that any man can make a mistake, but none but a fool will continue in it.

This is a new day; live it fully.

Peace,
Tawanka

Forgiveness

(March 21, 1999)

Forgiveness seems to be a necessity for so many things that are wrong. Forgiveness never degrades, but elevates, and is not to let someone else get away with something, but to free ourselves from entanglement.

It frees us from bitter resentment that can make us sick, and can help heal the sickness if it's already there.

Eventually, it makes us glad that we did not react, doing and saying things for which we would later be very sorry.

Peace,
Tawanka

Tawanka Found This Funny

So do I. I'd seen it before, so it's not original nor can I attribute this to her, as I can for so many other things that she sent me while she was alive, but the email that comes next in the series doesn't apply right now. Guess that means someone reading this really needs to laugh, because this one's appropriate now.

Enjoy.
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(November 22, 1998)

John invited his mother over for dinner. During the meal, Mom couldn't help noticing how attractive and shapely the housekeeper was. She wondered if there was more going on than met the eye.

John told her, "I know what you must be thinking, Mom, but I assure you, my relationship with my housekeeper is purely professional."

A week later the housekeeper told John, "Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy ladle. You don't think your mother took it, do you?"

So John sent a letter to his mother that read, "Dear Mother: I'm not saying you did take the gravy ladle, and I'm not saying you didn't, but the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you were here for dinner."

Several days later, John received a letter from his mother that said, "Dear Son: I'm not saying you sleep with your housekeeper, nor am I saying you don't. But the fact remains that if she were sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the gravy ladle by now. Love, Mom."

This is Not The Post I Want to Write

But I've determined that what I want to write should not be written here. So, on that note . . .
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(March 20, 1999)

Someone said the test of courage is not to give up but to rise up and take command of our moods. When talking to someone we trust doesn't ease the stress, then writing it down can make a world of difference.

Writing to ourselves can bring out many causes of sadness or anger that we didn't know we were harboring. A daily journal has been the source of help in learning what we have hidden away unconsciously, only to come out and whip us at the most unlikely times. It is a way of "cleaning house" and making corrections in the privacy of our own minds without having to tell the world.

Do not hurt your neighbor, for it is not him you wrong, but yourself.

Peace,
Tawanka

It's Your Future

(March 19, 1999)

Last autumn's leaves have been dislodged from their wintering places to race north with the wind from the south--only to be turned and blown south again. They drift and dance on end, twirling and falling into piles to disintegrate in spring rains.

Drifting with the wind is not a habit of nature alone. People with no goals, no aims, drift from one place to another in hopes that fate will put them in the right place at the right time. If decisions are not made and goals are not set, the world will make them for us.

(Makes you wonder about some people we all know?)

Peace,
Tawanka
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I'm quite surprised at what I'm perceiving as the snarkiness I see in that last line . . .

Our Role in Healing Others

[March 18, 1999 - While sitting here watching the Bulldogs of Gonzaga play Florida, thought I would put out the thought of the day. (Go Zags!)]

Other people have so much happen in their lives before we get to know them that we don't know how to meet their needs. If they have been hurt, they may box themselves in and our reach isn't long enough. But we cannot go back and make up for what someone else has done.

All of us come to the present time with some memories, some experiences that have affected us negatively. It would be hard to live in a world of hurt and not be touched by it. But we know that change can take place suddenly to heal life.

When we seek, we find. And it may be by helping others.

Peace,
Tawanka

The Persistent Curse of Guilt

(March 17, 1999)

Remembering is painful at times. It's easy to relive what did happen and what did not happen . . . and we try to take all the blame. We know what guilt is. Why didn't we do a better job, pay more attention, or follow a hunch? Few of us can look back and delight in memories of times past.

Would we have done things differently if we knew then what we know now? Maybe.

The best thing we can do for ourself is to forgive. Forgiving heals. It clears the way for time . . . time to build and love, renew and restore. It is a time of grace when we have done nothing to deserve it.

Peace,
Tawanka

P.S. Happy St. Patty's day!!!!!!