Friday Tidings

I took a picture of this terrific guy who has been alongside me on life’s journey for over forty-five years. I’ve had way more life with him than without him. We’ve gotten older together. Speaking of older things, a friend recently shared a photo of a beautifully refurbished dresser. His wife keeps old treasures that can be sanded, painted, and spiffed-up to look wonderful again.  His perspective made me chuckle: The old stuff I want to get rid of, she repurposed. So happy she looks at me with the same eyes. Indeed. We should treasure the people in our lives and see their worthiness even if we need to be refurbished a bit. Oh, we'll get refurbished by life’s challenges. They say life can be like sandpaper, filing down our rough edges. But as we get older, we can be better versions of ourselves. Love refurbishes us too. It’s not like sandpaper, it’s softer, kinder. Love is so needed. I’m thankful my husband has gentle eyes to see me as worthy, even as I’m being refurbished

I’d seen the World War II Veteran about a year ago, sitting in Safeway’s Starbuck coffee area. I thought about stopping to greet him, but in my rush, I quickly gathered my groceries and left the store. I immediately felt that sense that I missed an opportunity. But I didn’t have time, I told myself. I never saw the old man again, until this week. He was in the same place, reading a newspaper. I smiled and slid into the chair across from him. I thanked him for his service to our nation. His cap had the insignia of the Coast Guard, and the remarkable label: World War II Veteran.  He smiled back and asked, “May I have the pleasure of your name?”  I told him and he said his name was Dale. I asked where he’d served. He reached inside his vest and pulled out a worn leather pouch.  “I have permission of the US government to carry this with me.” Dale showed me his honorable discharge documents. And because I wanted to know more, he showed me a picture of the vessel he’d been on in

Our walk to the library was filled with preschool chatter. My granddaughter was equally nervous and excited. She carefully carried her first self-authored book. It was an illustrated story she’d created about an orange ball we’d found. After she’d finished it, I’d mentioned that the librarian would probably like to see her book. Well, I hoped the librarian would be excited. I know my mom, a city librarian, would have wanted to encourage a young writer. But I may have overstated what a busy librarian had time for—I mean, this was an unpolished handmade book. But it meant everything to the little girl now holding it. We walked up to the large desk where the librarian was sitting. My granddaughter became overly shy, so I explained about her book and the librarian smiled reassuringly. “May I see your book?” The next several minutes the librarian read, smiled, asked questions, and then encouraged my granddaughter with the words, “The reason we have all these books” she said, as she w

I was captivated by this wall photo. It’s so foggy you can’t see where the tracks lead.   Without knowing where the tracks are heading, which one should you take? I remember that unknown feeling. It seemed like getting on the wrong track was the story of my 20’s. Back then, we hopped on a farming track, while having to jump tracks to make money on the side.  We finally found the track that led to our career.  As I stared at the tracks in the photo, I thought about my travels through life. I learned the fog ahead will never fully clear.  I also learned that even if you’re on the right track, there will still be stops along the way. There is always a reason to stop—even if we don’t know it right then. Other times it may feel like everything is moving so fast you can’t get off. I learned to hang on. My advice to those far younger than I am—you’ll learn things on your track as it takes you further down the line. And even if you can’t see it from here, other tracks are ahe