“I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. I know I can.”

I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. I know I can.

Perhaps you learned this iconic quote in childhood. It is attributed to Watty Piper, a pen name of Arnold Munk, owner of the publishing firm of Platt & Munk. Munk wrote children’s books, including this favorite, The Little Engine That Could.
 
Little Golden Book, The Little Engine That Could, I Think I CanGrowing up, we read the Little Golden Book edition of The Little Engine That Could. Our favorite book soon became tattered, torn, faded, and fingerprinted with our love. With eight years between us, I read the book to my younger brother. 
 

 
On February 10th, we had a group of young men at our place to take down three old Doug firs. The approximate height of these trees was 135 feet. We knew that a lot of work and, yes, a mess would remain.
 
We understood that some existing shrubs and plants might suffer damage. But these trees had to go—they were encroaching on the front of our home. One of the first things we noticed was that a grouping of hyacinths were gone. Smashed by limbs bigger than the hyacinths would ever be.
 
Yesterday I noticed one white hyacinth was up to proving it could survive anything! I could hear that hyacinth repeating the words, “I think I can.” Today Bob pointed out there were two hyacinths there, both white. 
 
How symbolic this is of what we need to embrace today. In the face of this unknown virus and misinformation about it, we need a sense of calm coupled with determination. We need to prove we can and will survive this crisis. Further, we need to support our neighbors and community. And despite misinformation, we can find an authentic and reliable source.
 
And we need to adopt the mantra of that little engine of long ago and two white hyacinths beating the odds. Repeat after me:
I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. I know I can.

 

Featured image attribution: Etienne GONTIER from Pixabay 

It’s the Little Things That Count

As I reflect on the past four years, I realize that my grumbling, complaining, and feeling sorry for myself taught me something so simple:

 

little things, life, count

 

 

It is easy to list some of the simple things for which I am grateful:

  • God’s promises of healing
  • A simple smile
  • The words “I love you”
  • My husband cooking, cleaning, and more
  • A phone call from your son while he’s traveling on business
  • A short visit from your next-door neighbor
  • Bags of meals for several nights picked up by the same neighbor
  • Thoughtfulness from anyone
  • Numerous healthcare givers treating you well
  • The first sight of spring 2019 when Bob rolled me in a wheelchair outside the rehab center to see the daffodils blooming
  • The day I learned I was going home
  • How good my own bed felt after three weeks in the hospital and rehab
  • Enjoying the answered prayers offered by many friends and family members

 

simple things, little things, extraordinary things

 

Feature Image by Jagoda Kondratiuk on Unsplash

Here Comes the Sun

Yesterday morning we sat at the breakfast table reading our morning devotional and sharing morning prayers. Our local classical radio station played in the background. I heard the on-air host announce the next song, Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles. The song was written by George Harrison while walking through Eric Clapton’s garden.

I looked out the window beside our table and there it came—the sun shining through our trees leaving dappled sunlight here and there. What a beautiful start to our day!

Usually, the rain sticks around Portland well into May but this winter has been different. It seems winter has been different almost everywhere. To experience sunlight during the wettest, darkest season of our year is a gift. Like this song by George Harrison.

Wishing you sunny days ahead!

 

 

Feature image attribution: FotoRieth from Pixabay

Unexpected Visitor

 

Yesterday was a bit different from other days since my recovery began. I had an unexpected visitor arrive. Despite plenty of books to read, knitting to knit, and writing to ponder, the days are often somewhat boring. And it doesn’t help that I’ve had a minor setback that limits my activity level. 
 
Back to my unexpected visitor. Looking out the large window into our backyard, I noticed the leaves on our vine maple fluttering. If there was a breeze blowing, none of the other trees were joining in. 
 
And then I spied him. A small squirrel bouncing from limb to limb. Stopping here and there to find a nibble of something. Then off he’d go either higher or lower on a branch, all the while bouncing as he went. I found myself giggling with joy. Laughter bubbling up inside me. This little fellow was so entertaining. At one point, he jumped from a branch and it came right back and hit him in the keister. Double laughter!
 
Tell me God doesn’t know when we need a boost, and I’ll tell you why I know otherwise. Here sat a woman wishing for a day brightener. And into her backyard came a squirrel with a routine at the ready. As he munched and danced his way through the tree, he also performed acrobatics. And all for this one woman-audience.
 
I felt lighter as he bounded on his way to his next assignment. His little impromptu performance filled me with gratitude.
 
nature, quote, time, trees, Katrina Mayer
Via Country Living Magazine

 

Featured Image Attribution: By Faith McDonald on Unsplash