WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY?

Right now, what makes me happy is turning a corner and suddenly coming into the presence of a stunning Autumn-colored tree. It happened yesterday, on my way home to a haircut appointment. Probably a maple, totally dressed in red, orange,yellow, gold--probably some other colors, too. (Did you know Autumn plays no favorites with color selection? True.) So on the way home, I stopped to take a photo of that gorgeous tree. I was on the wrong side of it, going toward home, but I took the photo anyway, getting a sign and some other stuff. But the tree! It was overwhelming.

Trees aren't the only happiness objects in my life. Lots of things I see give me joy. Clouds in unusual formations. Dogs, any dogs, anywhere. 

Also, fragrances--spring flowers (lilacs, especially)--roasting chicken in my kitchen--roasting vegetables, also in my kitchen--almost any baking (brownies and fruit crisp are my top picks)--fresh air after a rain . . . .

And tastes! Oh, my, good winter soup, full of veggies and  rich broth--risotto (which we have at least once a month)--Mediterranean mixed veggies, sauteed stovetop--morning coffee calmed down a little with creamer--good chocolate--lemon anything . . . .

What about things heard? I still love music, much of which is now on the Internet and available quickly. I'm partial to '70s tunes that I remember from my years in college (as a {ahem} mature student), and to what a lot of people call classical music, though my tastes run to 16th Century, then 17th, and 18th. And jazz! My life in the '50s was always happier when I could play jazz LPs and that taste continued the rest of my life.

That only leaves touch--fabric has long been a tactile happy thing. I've sewn doll clothing since age 8 (by hand) then my own wearables beginning at age 12 (4-H club), learned to make my own fabric by knitting (sometime crocheting). I'm grateful for relaxed styles, such as sweatshirts, and the concept of layering to improve the warmth of clothing when the weather tanks big-time. I also like the feel of wood (my dad was a carpenter most of my life)--the touch of printed pages (books, of course; and they also smell great)--the feel of a pen in my hand, writing across a journal page (the sound is comforting) . . . .

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Here's a quiz for you--What one thing brings out all the senses? (Answer below.)

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Take your senses for a walk--what wakes them up, gives them a boost when you're feeling a little less than Up. And most of all--what makes you happy? Do some of that today!

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

Answer to the quiz:

You see it, hear it, smell it,

taste it, and (grab a handful) 

feel it!

 SOMETIMES . . .

Life being what it is, things don't go smoothly . . . not all the time. Not always. Not even for long periods. We tend to shrug and say, "Well, that's the way life is." But as September segues into the shorter days of autumn, I find myself meandering around in deeper thoughts, such as:

- Sometimes . . . you don't need to leap out of bed just because the alarm rang.
What would happen if you hit the SNOOZE button and gave yourself 10 more minutes to prepare to meet the day? [The danger here is that you can hit SNOOZE time after time.]

- Sometimes . . . your greatest need is your own health.
Pushing yourself again and again beyond your normal limits may not be a good thing. Is the committee meeting going to fail because you aren't there? Will the office shut down because you need a mental health day? [We're not talking excuses here--we're looking at our own health.]

- Sometimes . . . another person's need is greater than yours.
Ah, there's the rub. How do I assess someone else's need? Is it a 10 today? Or merely a 4? Perhaps only a 2. Forget the numbers. Look at what's being asked of you--a few minutes on the phone; a cup of coffee at the shop where you can talk without being interrupted; a helping hand because nobody else will do it; or a request for prayer.

- Sometimes . . . life is totally unfair--day after day.
You have arthritis. Your hearing is rapidly declining. Your appetite up and left you and you're losing weight your doctor is unhappy about. Your dog has to be put down. Your neighbor makes racket long after your normal bedtime (say, 10 PM). Or your family members are so wrapped up in their own problems they don't call/email/text. And if they do, they vent. [Hard to see a ray of sunshine in this scenario, isn't it? This is when I scrounge around for one thing--just one!--to be grateful for.]


- Sometimes . . . you just need to listen--seriously listen.
Not every appeal for help requires you to do something specific about it. Listening, really taking it in, is doing something. [You're not even required to remember what you heard. Just be an ear.]

- Sometimes . . . all you can do is cry.
When it all gets to be too much, have a good weep. Letting the valves open can be a great cleansing of overloaded emotions. Or if the hurt and grief are too deep for tears, write about it--talk to yourself or the person you grieve for or to God--put it on paper. Later you can shred the pages, because they've done their part in allowing you a place to pour out your feelings.

- Sometimes . . . all you can do is laugh.
When it's too much for a good cry, laugh! There are still some things in my life that haven't got to the laughing stage, but a great many have. [You may recall the hard-boiled eggs on the kitchen ceiling episode. I can laugh, now.]

- Sometimes . . . all you can do is walk away. You can't fix it. Maybe nobody can but God.
This is probably the hardest of all. We need courage to admit that we can't "fix" something--that the only thing we can do is express our caring, if that's possible, and pray for relief.

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I know, I know--this isn't a feel-good post. But then, Life isn't always a feel-good place to live, is it? Sometimes . . . we just have to grit our teeth and get on with things. Or, maybe, find another way to get through. A friend can help a lot.

Have a blessed week.

Thursday's Child