Today I had plans. I had a conference call with five people in New York at 8:00 am CST. I had the day measured out. I had things to do, places to be, stuff to get off my list. It hasn't gone that way. Back and forth emails and faxes from my realtor and the deadline of twelve noon rapidly approaching to initial and sign documents, phone calls and emails interrupting my life. But in coming back to this blog on numerous occasions to complete it, I realized I had a choice too. I could choose to be grumbling about all the interruptions or choose to take a deep breath and go with it. I laughed with the realtor, had a meaningful conversation with a Vietnam vet, found a source for a lady in Boston with a heart condition for a detection dog, and talked to a team member in Houston about an organization called Vets Journey Home and their visit from our therapy dog, Whopper, who will be attending an event for them this weekend, and finally a conversation with my son in law about passing a kidney stone, and an email from a best friend that her sister has stage four cancer.
My plate is still full of things undone, my tummy never got breakfast or lunch and my dogs are begging to be let outside. But I wouldn't trade my life for anyones. Sure there are times I ache for nothing to do, or to see a real person at least once a day on days like this. But those of you who know me best, know I would find something to do because that would be my choice.
Love life, love this one great big life you have with all you've got and all your heart. It may not be perfect, but it doesn't have to be. Danny Kay hit the nail on the head, "“Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint you can on it.” Embrace this day, this hour, this minute. Squeeze all the joy out of it you can.
I consider our soldiers. They do not complain or live buried in misery despite their plight. I choose to emmulate them and a young lady, a soldier, just back from Iraq who has serious back problems and acute PTSD/TBI. As she saw a Penny's From Heaven Foundation PTSD support dog asleep on the floor of the WFSC yesterday, she smiled, rose in pain from the sofa, and walked over to Chase. In a room full of 50-60 people, she cautiously lowered herself, painfully, to the wooden floor and snuggled close. She wrapped her arms around him, rested her head on his side, as he quietly inhaled and exhaled, offering a soft music that quieted this soldier's soul. She never complained. Quite the opposite she talked about what she wanted to do when her many surgeries are over. Her choice is clear.
Perhaps the answer is easy. Perhaps she has seen the worst of life in combat. Perhaps she chooses now to be happy. She knows ultimately life is precious, fleeting and worthy of our attention and gratitude. She puts empty cups in her refrigerator. She doesn't know why. It is a part of her brain injury. But she laughs at it by choice. "At least I know where I can find one."
She is an inspiration.
She is what making choices is all about.