A Pain in the Neck

I've been writing less because sitting at the computer hurts my neck. It's gotten so bad that the pain runs down my arm. I'm cranky and irritable and I complain to my mother about it. "My neck's killing me! This is awful. I hate this!" I whine several times a day. And my mother--being the mother she always is, listens and understands. It occurred to me today that I'm whining to a woman who has lost the ability to do just about everything. She can't walk from here to there without struggling for breath. She sits patiently, smiling, so she's "not a burden" to me. Her legs are long sticks of black and blue from the prednisone she takes daily. Her shoulders ache from tension. She leaves things left undone...because she can't do them, the sheets weren't changed this week, her desk needs dusting, and she doesn't even bring them up, because she doesn't want me to "work too hard." Mom rarely complains, and when she does, it is always followed by a lilting laugh and the phrase, "Oh but it's just the way it is. I'll be fine."

I found the gift of my pain in the neck this week--it's compassion. I appreciate more acutely what my mother endures minute to minute and admire her stature and composure. She makes me try harder to be a better person. My neck's killing me right now but I'm not going to announce it to the world (At least I'll try). Thanks again, Mom, you never stop teaching.

The view from above

My mother's peaceful presence offers the only truth we need in life - seek out happiness moment to moment instead of focusing on what is lost, needed, lacking, or not good enough. Blame and bitterness is replaced with pardon and prayer. Material desire is replaced with satisfaction for what one has now: a warm blanket, a hot cup of tea, a faithful companion, and a window that looks out on the birds from far off places singing sweet songs. They flutter and feed then fly away on wings that soar to the heavens. Aloft, they must see how small we become as they hover high overhead, alone, but safe from harm.