injaynesworld we "Come From Gratitude..."

From the time we are small, we are taught to say “Thank you,” after something nice is done for us or after we receive what we have asked for.  It is common courtesy and one we often say by rote, without much thought.

What no one ever teaches us is the power of gratitude in the creation of what we want.  That is the meaning of “Come From Gratitude,” my entry in this week’s Trifecta challenge, which is to come up with a three-word New Year’s resolution. 

When we come from gratitude, we ask in faith believing that what we seek is already ours.   Not a day goes by that I don’t practice this repeatedly and, having done so for many years, still marvel at its power.

Plain and simple, gratitude is the horse that pulls the cart. 

Come From Gratitude

Happy New Year.

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injaynesworld "A Simple Love Story..."

Silver strands of thinning hair surrounded her face as she rested by the fire in the old Barcelounger that had been her husband’s favorite chair.  She snuggled down into the deep imprint of his body, feeling the warmth of his love gather around her just as he had gathered her in his arms each night for their nearly 60 years of marriage.  Smiling, she recalled the pleasure of his touch.

The laughter of young lovers rang up from the snowy sidewalk just below, and she long to tell them to hold tightly to the love in their hearts for time would test it again and again, and ultimately time would win.

But love would endure. 

From the prompt “silver” at Five Sentence Fiction.  

injaynesworld we "Believe..."

How old was I when I learned the crushing news that Santa “lived in our hearts” rather than at the North Pole?   I can’t recall.   I know I clung to the myth long after that despite all evidence to the contrary, still getting my picture taken with the jolly old dude well into my teens, just for a laugh I told myself.   But the truth was, as the adult world pressed in on me from all sides, I longed to hold onto that child who still believed in magic.  

There is a lot of talk about the “Magic of the Season,” mostly in store advertisements seeking to part us from our hard-earned cash, or even better “charge it” to a later date, a time made much less magical once that debt comes due.   Still, it’s easy to get caught up in the buying frenzy.  We want to recapture that excitement of Christmas mornings past, ripping through wrapping paper to find “what Santa brought us,” and watching others do the same.  

After all, “Christmas comes but once a year,” we tell ourselves.   And it’s true.   Sure, we’re encouraged to keep Christmas in our hearts throughout the year, but all too soon the challenges of everyday living chip away at all that good cheer and the magic drifts away.

Still, we all know there is more to this magic-of-the-season business than buying stuff.    If we’re among the fortunate to have our basic needs for shelter, food, and loved ones met, if we have our health, it is a time to take stock of how truly blessed we are.  

Life is a minefield that can blow our sorry asses up at any time in a myriad of ways.  I never fail to marvel at the end of each day that I’m still here, so the end of another year?  Oh, yeah.  Big whoop-ass party. 

You can bet I’ll be decking those halls, indulging in eggnog and even spending more than I planned.   With all the strife in the world, we need to let our inner child out again – the one whose open heart still hears the jingle bells of Santa and his sleigh on Christmas Eve.  The one who still believes.   

Ho, ho, ho…

injaynesworld it's "Gift Giving 101..."

I’ve been on the receiving end of some pretty amazing gifts in my life.  Things I really wanted, but had no expectation of actually getting.  Surprises that blew my circuits with the thought, care and love that I knew went into picking them out for me.

On the giving end, the fun of seeing a friend’s face light up with genuine excitement at a perfect gift chosen especially for them brings a pleasure and satisfaction that’s hard to match, and I don’t think I’m alone in feeling that way. 

So why is it that every gift-giving occasion always produces at least a couple of those “What the hell were they thinking?” gifts that look like the giver just threw a “Hail Mary” and hoped for the best? 

Let me just say I don’t need any more – or any, for that matter -- tee-shirts with sayings on them.  “Does 'anal retentive' have a hyphen?”   Thanks for pointing out that I’m a control freak and, by all means, let’s share it with the world.  

Same with that mood ring.   I know what mood I’m in, thank you, and while we’re at it, I haven’t been in the mood for a lava lamp since 1968 either.  While you may have had the best of intentions, I already have closet shelves devoted to ceramic cats, more soap than anyone could use in a lifetime, candles for everyone should there be a nationwide power outage, and a ceramic photo frame in the shape of a cow.   Blessedly, only one of those.

While it should go without saying, unless we’re closely related, please don’t give me underwear.  As for socks with cartoon characters on them?  Really?   The dementia is that obvious, is it?  I don’t need a coffee mug with a photo of my dog on it.  I know what my dog looks like.  I’m already the only one in the office with no family photos on her desk.   Why don’t you just get me a mug that says “pathetic” and be done with it?

Homemade gifts are especially iffy.   Jellies, cookies, banana bread?   Bring it on.   A hand-knit beret made from your dog’s fur that you collected from the floor after grooming, wove into yarn yourself and then knit just for me?  Not so much.  

When I was 15 my mother put a carton of cigarettes in my Christmas stocking.  “Spring” was my death stick of choice back then.   Of course, this was before we all knew about the dangers of smoking, which makes me feel a bit better because, although I was a pretty rotten kid, I’d like to believe that my mother wasn’t trying to off me. 

All of which leads me to the obvious:  What wrong with cash?   Even the wealthiest among us can appreciate that a twenty will buy a few beers.  The wealthy love cash.  Why do you think they have so much of it?   And if it’s good enough for them, it’s certainly good enough for the rest of us.  While cash may not say, “I saw this and immediately thought of you,” I think I’ve clearly established how very awry that path can go.  

When in doubt as to what I might want, just ask.   I’ll tell you.   I’m not shy about it in the least.   I’ll even send you links to the websites.  Seriously, I’m here to help.   

Of course, if you’re still determined to go it on your own, you can pretty much never go wrong with a good book.  ;)

Click here

If this post seems familiar that’s because it’s included in my book “Suitable for Giving; A Collection of Wit with a Side of Wry,” the book that Kirk Douglas said had a laugh on every page, and who am I to argue with Spartacus.

   

injaynesworld "Life Is A Banquet..."

It’s Thanksgiving, that time of year when the attitude of gratitude abounds. 

Not all that long ago, but well within my somewhat limited memory these days, who I AM had gotten lost in a myriad of false gods:  my job, my car, my clothes, my bank account, and I worshipped at the church of “What Others Think of Me.”   It was exhausting.   Happiness was always just out of reach and, seemingly, in someone else’s control.   

It’s been two years since I reduced my overhead and rid myself of all but those possessions

that would fit in one 400-square-foot room, and I’ve never been happier.  Decades of carting around unwanted, unneeded and, in many cases, totally forgotten books, furniture, dishware, and bell bottoms from Cher’s 1967 summer line had held me hostage and blinded me from seeing the simple pleasures that were free for the taking. 

From another perspective, the thought of others picking through my stuff when I’m dead – judging me on the elasticity of my underwear or lack thereof, or how hairy my legs must have been to have six tubes of Nair under my bathroom sink, not to mention that drawer full of unmatched socks because hey, you never know when you’ll lose a foot and only need one – completely freaked me out.   I know I’ll be gone, but who’s to say such humiliation doesn’t follow you into the afterlife?    Sure, a lingering disease gives you some warning, but I’m more prone to crashing and burning.  

This Thanksgiving I will give thanks for the love of family and good friends; for the ever-changing beauty of the sky – a wisp of cotton candy clouds this morning over bright pinks and blues as the sun rose to bless me with another day, and nights of bright celestial celebration that remind me I AM part of something much, much greater.  I will give thanks for a body that is healthy and strong; for the animals that teach me about unconditional love, for a cozy home and enough to eat and, high on my list, I will give thanks for everyone who visits here.  Sure I would continue to write even if no one read my humble offerings, but I am so very grateful that you do. 

“Life is a banquet and most poor fools are starving to death.”  The line is spoken by Rosalind Russell in the original “Auntie Mame,” my all-time favorite movie.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.  

injaynesworld "Revenge Is Sweet..."

My punishment would be fierce; of this I was certain.  Still, I could not stop myself.

The gift had been meant for both of us, but now it was ruined by my sister’s rush to lay claim to all the very best pieces first, including the ones with the dark spreckles on top that she knew were my favorites. 

Chocolate-covered orange cream bon-bons; sweet maple wrapped in white chocolate; lemon, fudge, and cherry fillings – she had bitten into each one, leaving for me only the defiled leftovers that had not met her fancy and, as if that wasn’t enough, a box full of empty brown wrappers that I am sure was only meant to taunt me.  

I watched as, suspecting nothing, she eagerly dug into the bar of tiny chocolate squares from our parents’ medicine cabinet that I had so beautifully re-wrapped and left by her bedside… and then I waited.

This post from the prompt Five Sentence Fiction prompt “pieces.”