~The Luckiest~

It's that time of year again, when our thoughts turn to 'gift-buying'. This year will be a meager one for many people because of the state of the economy, not only here, but around the world. With people out of work, so many foreclosures on homes and businesses.....we are in a recession. There. I've said it. The government is afraid to....but ask the people it's affecting: the family man who was just laid off and doesn't know how he's going to tell his wife and kids; the single mother-of-four-under-ten who doesn't have enough money to feed her children, let alone for presents; or the 92-year-old man who has let his prescriptions lapse or is taking only 'halves' of pills because he can't afford to take the recommended dosage he REALLY needs.

If you are reading this, you have a computer. Internet services. A job. You and I are members of 'The Luckiest'. We don't worry about where our next meal will come from. If we will keep the warm, heated roof over our head. We have a car. And money for gas. We have clothes and shoes. A warm place to sleep at nite. We are certainly members of 'The Luckiest'.

Last year, a friend made a comment about seeing a very cold, Salvation Army Bell-Ringer standing in the freezing cold, ringing that bell for money for the poor. She bought a hot chocolate for her. The woman was very grateful. Because of her, I never pass one of those Bell-Ringers without bringing them back hot chocolate. The last one had tears in her eyes and said no one had ever been so thoughtful. It's the little things like that. It certainly didn't cost much. Just time and a bit of effort.

My mother's assisted living facility has a Christmas tree in the lobby that has ornaments with names of the elderly in our area that are in need of things like clothing, toiletries, etc. It's called "Be A Santa To A Senior". One of the ones I picked up is for slippers for Edward, size 11. I bought him a nice pair of black cozy Deerfoams for Men, and will wrap them today and take them there with the other gifts I'm donating. Our church has a Giving Tree with names of people who are in need of things like gas for their cars, prescriptions to be filled, warm gloves, etc. There is Toys for Tots, Coats for Kids, Womensafe, etc. Choose one...or several. Our county's Social Services has names of families in need of many things. A group of my friends here pick a name and make sure the family has everything for a spectacular Christmas: presents, warm clothing, Christmas Dinner.

So....I'm posing the question: What will YOU do to give back this year?? . I'd love it if you'd come back here and post a comment telling what you will do. I think it will be a great inspiration for all of us.

~Dancing With Mom~

Life was always a dance with her. A quick-step in the beginning of my life. She was always there. Standing firmly. Teaching me to take my first steps. She was there on my first day of kindergarten. Standing firmly. Waiting for me to come home. Always there.

Life became a fox-trot with the arrival of my two siblings. She was busier. The dance moved more quickly. There were carrots to peel, clothes to iron, pies to bake. She did it all. Always. She created a secure, happy childhood for her three children. Dancing quickly. Standing firmly.

She taught the three of us to dance quickly, too. Jitter-bugging our way through life. All three of us. Excelling. Striving for the best. Dancing faster and faster. Twirling and swirling our way with her watching us. Always. Ready to pick us up if we stumbled and fell. We faithfully followed her lead.

The dance took on a new rhythm when my brother, Dan, died. I didn’t think she’d ever dance again. And three months later, Dad passed away. Would any of us ever dance again? We did. The dance took on a meloncholy rhythm. A slow, sad two-step. Through broken bones. Surgeries. Chronic pain. Sometimes the dancing came to a halt. But it always began again. To much slower music.

Now with alzheimer’s riddling Mom’s body, the only way she can dance, is holding on to someone else. She barely hears the music anymore. You have to be very still to hear it. But it’s there.

So, I dance with her. Slowly. To a gentle, soft waltz. Swaying to the music. Lovingly. Still faithfully following her lead. Because, for now, it is as fast as she can dance. I am there for her. Standing firmly. Just like she was for me. Always.

This post won the Post Of the Day award at David's Authorblog.