What Are You Waiting For?

I have had over a week in the mountains, enjoying walking and running. There is something exciting about running over rocky surfaces and hilly paths. It is a bit like playing chess; you have to always be one or two steps ahead of yourself. Watching ahead, and preparing for where you are next going to plant your foot. By comparison running on the road is just a case of making sure you do not bump into another person or get chased by a dog.

How wise it is to be prepared and ready. My son joined me for my last day, and we ran together.  As we ran I became aware of my age. I was running with somebody almost half my age. I said to him that I was aware that age was making me a bit slower. He laughed, and commented, “I have two things to say. One you will notice you are in front of me, and two, we have not passed anybody else your age out doing this.’ Point made and point taken.

Then I saw that my years had not been totally wasted. We came to a small river. I had ran this path so often before, I knew where I could, without losing stride, step over two large boulders to the other side. At this point my son said, “Come on dad just go for it.” He proceeded to make the jump , only to land flat on his face his shoes full of water. It is all about the right things at the right time.

There is a tale of another old man and his wife. They were a lovely old couple in there 80s. They had been married for 60 years and were still looking fit and well. In spite of their health they met an untimely end one day in a traffic accident.

They found themselves at the pearly gates. The angel showed them round. They were shown where they would live it was beautiful. The husband asked what the rent would be? They were told it was free. He then noticed just behind his house a beautiful golf course. He enquired what the green fees were and the membership rates. Again he was told it was all free. In the clubhouse he saw all the wonderful food. He asked where all the healthy fat free food was. He was told there was no such thing. He could not get ill so he could enjoy whatever he wanted.

He looked at all this and considered it. He turned to his loving wife and asked her, “What was all that about those awful bran flakes, we could have been here ten years ago.”

The road is in fact just what we make it. Rough or smooth hard or easy. The better road is always the one that leads to a feeling of achievement and wellbeing.

It is good to be back have a good day.

This blog is linked to my other.  A Good Feeling.

The Secret Box

It is a very busy time, the digging season, so I may not be here every day, though I do promise to try.

I spent hours yesterday trying to dig the soil. I am slowly but surely getting it ready for the future crops.

I had a visit from a friend, as I toiled. He had his young son with him and I had so pleasure telling him what I was doing and why.  He seemed very interested. This in turn reminded me of a beautiful story I was once inspired by.

It was the story of Jack, who spent so much of his time with his next door neighbour, but as is the way of life,  college, girls,
career, got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across 
the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy
life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to 
spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing
could stop him.



Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The
 funeral is Wednesday."

Memories flashed through his mind like an old
newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

 "Jack, did you hear me?"
"Oh, sorry, Mother, Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of
 him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were 
doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of
t he fence' as he put it," Mum told him.

"I loved that old house he lived in,"

Jack said.

"You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make
sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said.

"He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this 
business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me 
things he thought were important,.

I'll be there for the funeral,"
Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his
 hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no 
children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mum stopped by to 
see the old house next door one more time.

 Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing 
over into another dimension, a leap through space and time. The house 
was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture,
 every piece of furniture....Jack stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong, Jack?" his Mum asked.



"The box is gone," he said.

 "What box? " Mum asked. 

"There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I
 must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell
 me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said. 

It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered
 it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had
 taken it.

"Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better 
get some sleep. I have an early flight home. It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from 
work one day Jack discovered a note in his letterbox.

"Signature required
  on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within
 the next three days," the note read.

 Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and 
looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was 
difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention.

"Mr. Harold Belser" it read.



Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There 
inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read 
the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack 
Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped
 to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack 
carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold 
pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing,
he unlatched the cover.

Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time!
 Harold Belser."



"The thing he valued most...was...my time."

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and
 cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his
 assistant asked.

"I need some time to spend with my son," he said.

"Oh, by the way, Janet...thanks for your time!"

This blog is linked to my other.  Iona

We Are All In Our Own Way Roses.

My thoughts are turning to gardens today. Last night I attended the annual meeting of the Allotment Society, the meeting of those of us who have garden plots in the same place.  I officially took ownership of my newer and larger plot. The plot, I am taking over, has been tended by an old man called Sandy. He has had it for the last 30 years, so there is a sense of nostalgia at his moving on.

So often, when we take over from another, we go in like the new broom and change everything. This was in fact my initial reaction. Sandy grew along the top of the plot a row of flowers. They were not the most beautiful of blooms and they were taking up enough space to grow a row of edible vegetables. Last night as I lay in bed I decided that the row of flowers would stay and I would tend them. When they bloom I will take a bunch of them to Sandy and his wife. Maybe even more than one bunch, a bunch during the flowering season, every week if I can.

While thinking of flowers I thought of the story of the man who was growing a rose.

A certain man planted a rose and watered it faithfully and before it blossomed, he examined it.

He saw the bud that would soon blossom, but noticed thorns upon the stem and he thought, "How can any beautiful flower come from a plant burdened with so many sharp thorns? Saddened by this thought, he neglected to water the rose, and just before it was ready to bloom... it died.

So it is with many people. Within the inner being of every person there is a rose. The good qualities planted and nurtured in us by parents and teachers. They grow amid the thorns of our faults. Many of us look at ourselves and see only the thorns, the defects.

We despair, thinking that nothing good can possibly come from us. We neglect to water the good within us, and eventually it dies. We never realize our potential.

Some people do not see the rose within themselves; someone else must show it to them. One of the greatest gifts a person can possess is to be able to reach past the thorns of another, and find the rose within them.

This is one of the characteristics of love, to look at a person, know their true faults and accepting that person into your life, all the while recognizing the nobility of the inner them.

We each can help others to realize they can overcome their faults. If we show them the "rose" within themselves, they will conquer their thorns. Only then will they blossom many times over.

But one little thing we must always remember, that we cannot nurture a person by only looking at the rose within for a person to really grow they need to also acknowledge the thorns that have also taken root in their lives.

My goodness here I am again almost at the preaching. Thank you Celeste for the words of encouragement on that front.

This blog is linked to my other.  Cornflowers

The Answer Is Never Far Away.

I set myself so many challenges yesterday that I was almost doomed to failure before I began. I was running with my young lad. I wanted to clean my car of all the winter grime. I had white painted and wanted to paint winter.

The car was the easy one. I had found a new product, DryClean. It cleans the car without water and polishes it at the same time. Spray it on spread it then with a soft cloth remove, it works, I could not believe it.

The run went well. For the first two miles we ran and chatted. I was aware he was saying little but still at my side. I said to him, “It is always good to run at a pace where you can still hold a conversation.”  He replied, “Can we slow down then, I can’t talk.”

I painted and the result of my painting is on this blog. I will make no comment here, because I leave that to my other blog.

Before the day was over I added a final little challenge. I managed to walk for two hours. 

As I sat down for the evening, I had a warm glow, of having at least something to show for my day.

How easy it is to look at the prospect of the day and think it cannot be done, and because we believe that nothing is done.  Let me explain!

If you put a buzzard in a pen six or eight feet square and entirely open at the top, the bird, in spite of his ability to fly, will be an absolute prisoner.

The reason is that a buzzard always begins a flight from the ground with a run of ten or twelve feet. Without space to run, as is his habit, he will not even attempt to fly, but will remain a prisoner for life in a small jail with no top.

The ordinary bat that flies around at night, a remarkable nimble creature in the air, cannot take off from a level place. If it is placed on the floor or flat ground, all it can do is shuffle about helplessly and, no doubt, painfully, until it reaches some slight elevation from which it can throw itself into the air. Then, at once, it takes off like a flash.

A Bumblebee if dropped into an open tumbler will be there until it dies, unless it is taken out. It never sees the means of escape at the top, but persists in trying to find some way out through the sides near the bottom. It will seek a way where none exists, until it completely destroys itself.

In many ways, there are lots of people like the buzzard, the bat and the bee.

We are struggling about with all our problems and frustrations, not realizing that the answer is right there if we just raise our sights.

I hope that does not sound like me reverting to my preacher mode, I do not intend to.  My young lad managed to stay with me for the six miles. I suspect he had an early night, but I also suspect he was feeling very good about himself.

Have a challenging and wonderful day.  As Jerry always says, “Today will be a marvellous day.”

This blog is linked to my other.   Winter Is Not The End