It Comes From Hardship

One of the strange things about this terrible weather we are having, well terrible for some, is the sense of togetherness it seems to engender. I actually love the snow, no matter how long it lasts. I enjoy running in it, and I enjoy the walks I have in it. Yesterday as I ran , more people than normal spoke to me, making comments about how ambitious I was being etc. Even when out walking more people speak, there is almost a sense of, “we are all in this together.”




This reminded me of the true story of some years ago.

It happened late at night, at 11:30 pm, an older African-American woman was

standing on the side of an Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing

rain storm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride.

Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car.

A young white man stopped to help her - generally unheard of in those conflict-filled

1960s. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and

put her into a taxi cab. She seemed to be in a big hurry! She wrote

down his address, thanked him and drove away.

Seven or so days later there was a knock at the young mans door. Standing there when he answered was a delivery man, he had a giant colour television and music player addressed to him. Also attached was a letter addressed to him, it read:

Dear Mr. James

Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes but my spirits. Then you came along, and because of you I was able to make it to my dying husbands bedside just before he passed away. God Bless you for helping me so unselfishly.

Yours Sincerely

Mrs. Nat King Cole.

Yes ,I am aware that there are many who in the present climate are acting selfishly, but there are more than normal those who are becoming aware that we are indeed, “all in this together.”

I have left yesterdays other blog for a bit longer after the emails I recieved. I Remember (No More)

Beware Mousetrap Ahead.

 It is amazing how we can allow life to become so comfortable that we begin to take things for granted. I have a certain number of routes that I can choose to run and because I run at the same time each day I expect on certain runs to meet certain people. I take it for granted. The same people walking their dogs, the same old guys out for their morning stroll. I turn certain bends and expect certain things. Then one day it all changes and you are facing a solid wall that was not there the last time, what do you do now? Out of your comfort zone and you immediately feel rattled.

There is a lovely story that makes a similar message. A little mouse lived on a farm. He lived behind the skirting board in the kitchen. It was a nice spot to live being warm and always there was plenty to eat around the place. One day he peeped out from his spot and saw the farmer’s wife opening a parcel. The parcel contained a number of mousetraps.

The little mouse panicked. He ran off to the shed and told the chicken, the pig and the cow. They all looked at him and asked what the problem was. The mouse said they were dangerous things mouse traps. The pig laughed and said that it might be for him but not for them. A mousetrap was never going to be a problem for them.

Later that day, all of the animals heard the farmer’s wife screaming. The mousetrap had gone off and caught a snake by the tail. The snake had then bitten the farmers’ wife. The farmer rushed her to hospital and they did their best to remove all the poison, but late in the night she still had a terrible fever.

The farmer knew that some nice chicken broth was known to help. He went out to the shed and killed the chicken to make the broth. Sadly the fever persisted. So many people visited and offered their help the farmer had to kill the pig to make enough sandwiches to feed them all.

Sadly the poison took its toll and the wife died. The farmer on hearing how many people were to be attending the funeral had to kill the cow to supply enough food for them all.

So you see the truth of the matter is that the mousetrap was responsible for the deaths of them all and the mouse was a witness to this. Some times life can get so comfortable for us that we fail to notice the needs of those around us. We are all part of the wonderful thread of life and whether we like it or not what effects those around us can so easily in the end effect us.

Sorry the pictures do not exactly fit the story but I took those yesterday and thought I would share them with you today. I saw this fellow and some beautiful deer yesterday they made my day.

Have a marvellous weekend.

Now What Was It I Came Up Here For?

When I am at home I spend a great deal of my time moving between downstairs and upstairs. My study and computer live upstairs and my art materials downstairs in the garage, where I have made a painting space. Now that I am fit this does not cause me any real problems in terms of getting up and down the stairs. I can in fact do that with ease. Nevertheless it still does from time to time cause me another problem. Sometimes I make my way to the study, stop, look around and wonder why I am there. I knew I came up for something, but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was. I have those senior moments.

I once had an old lady, a member of my congregation, who would appear at my door at all sorts of times of the day and night. I got to accept that she had wandered out of the house and now did not where she was. A cup of coffee a chat and off back home and she was as right as rain. At least she always seemed to remember the way to the manse. She was a lovely old lady, and even as she was, a good golfer. Her friend often took her to the golf course and they played nine holes of golf had something at the clubhouse and returned home. She would often ask her friend, “Remind my who you are again, because you seem like a real nice person.”

It was sometimes frightening to think she might come to harm, but almost everybody knew her and she always either ended up at the manse or home. She was fortunate in managing to see out her last days in the familiar surrounds of her own home. She died having had a long life and almost the whole village turned out for her last farewell. And we all took her to her last resting place.

I was told a lovely story that reminded me of this old lady.

The old man had arrived at the hospital to have stitches removed from a cut in his finger. He kept looking at his watch as he was assessed by the nurse. He told her he had a very important appointment at 9am. It was now 8.30 and there seemed little chance that he would make it.

The nurse seeing his concern spoke to the doctor and it was agreed she would remove the stitches put on a clean dressing and let him go. As she did so she enquired about his important appointment, was it with his doctor? “Oh no,” he said, “I have to go to the nursing home to have breakfast with my wife.” The nurse asked him if she would mind if he was just a little bit late. He explained that she would not; she did not even remember who he was as she suffered from Alzheimer's disease. The nurse looked at him and asked, “You still go to see her every day at the same time, even though she does not know who you are?”

The old man patted the nurse’s hand, looked her in the eye and said, “She does not know who I am but I know who she is.”

True love is neither physical, nor romantic.



True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

My old friend Archie is 84 there was a time when I would not have been able to run alongside him he was so fast now he has difficulty walking from the shop to the inn. I still talk to him as a runner and I know he loves that that is how I still see him. Because when he looks in the mirror each day that is who he still sees.

This blog is linked to my other. The beauty of Age

What Was That You Said?

I have nothing to say and I am only going to say it once. Yes I actually heard somebody saying that yesterday. How often can you say nothing. I was not part of the conversation it was a moment snatched that I overheard. It did make me consider though just how many words it takes to say nothing.
I used to tell my students to always remember that if they looked in the mirror, something most of them were not averse to doing, they would notice that there were some things they all had in common. For example, they all had two ears, one nose and one mouth. My son having only one eye makes me very aware of how far one can take this. They would all agree, often of course with some comment about being glad they did not have somebody else’s nose. I then went on to tell them that having one mouth and two ears, they should use them in that proportion. We should do twice as much listening as speaking.

I walked up the road yesterday just as the schools were coming out for the end of the day, and the start of the weekend. I often marvel at how young people communicate at all. They just all talk at once, liberally scattered with words I do not know, and words I would chose not to use.

I remember being told this wonderful phrase. "Say what you mean, mean what you say, and don't be mean when you say it." I really must be getting old. I love words and the power they have to bring joy and healing. But sadly, I believe we are losing the wonderful art of communication. Technology is making conversations one sided, and the art of listening is dying.

Have you ever considered that the two words, SILENT and LISTEN, use the same letters. Now tell me the is a coincidence!

A young son and his father were walking in the mountains. The father said, “Why don’t you yell and see if anyone is out there?”

So the little boy yelled, “Helllooooooo.

To his surprise, he hears a voice answering, “Helllooooooo.



Curious, he yells back, "Who are you?"

He receives the answer: "Who are you?"



Angered at the response, he screams: "You’re an idiot!"

He hears the reply: "You’re an idiot!"



He looks to his father and asks, "What's going on?"

The father explained that he’s hearing an echo, and whatever he says will be repeated back to him. Then the dad yelled into the valley, “I think you’re great!”

The voice answers, “I think you’re great!”



The father turned to his son and explained: "The way you talk to others is a lot like this echo. If you’re angry and yell at them, they will yell back. But if you will say nice things to them, they will respond in the same way to you.”



I leave you this morning with a couple of little sayings I learned from my grandmother. I do not know where she learned them because I never took the time to ask. She used to say to me, "Two monologues don't make a dialogue."

And my final word, “Never miss the opportunity to keep your mouth shut.”

I hope you have a wonderful day and weekend.

You did not think for one minute I was going to stop with my final word, did you?

This blog is linked to my other. Be Still

Learning to Fly

Yesterday I visited the art gallery where they were showing an exhibition of impressionist garden paintings. It was overwhelming. So many of the masters in one place, almost too much for the mind to comprehend in one moment.


I was so engrossed in three of Monet’s Water Lilly paintings that I forgot I was alone. I said to the lady standing next to me, “I find these paintings just flood my mind with feelings.” Then I remembered where I was and was about to apologise. She turned and said to me, “Thank you for saying that I was just bursting to say that to somebody but was so aware of being alone.”

We spoke together about one or two others and then we went our separate ways. As she was about to leave I thanked her for her comments. She said I had made her day and I think we both left feeling touched by the art and the joy of sharing.

It is amazing how easy it is to be uplifted by another and in turn uplift. I have a moving story to share with you.

There was a little boy who lived in an orphanage. He was one of the youngest and often felt alone. He used to sit at the window and watch the birds. How he longed to be able to fly. He spoke of it often. “Why cant I fly like the birds?”

Next to the orphanage was a park where he was allowed to go and play. He was so often alone playing in the sandpit. One day there was another lad about his age sitting in the sand. They talked to each other and made castles and magical places. They laughed and joked for what seemed like ages.

Time came when it was time to leave. The father of the other lad went behind the park bench and wheeled over a wheelchair. The lad who wanted to fly had not been aware of his new friends disability.

He went over to the father and spoke to him. He returned to the lad and said, “I cannot help you to walk or run but I can do something. The father lifted his son onto the orphans back and laughed as they ran round the park.

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he laughed at the words of his son. Sitting on his new friends back he waved his arms and shouted loudly. “Look Daddy. I can fly, I can fly.”


I noticed that somebody left my followers yesterday apologies if I am offending or being too heavy.

This blog is linked to my other where I discuss the art.  Thoughts of Spring