Lessons in Gratitude

Lessons in Gratitude Day 671

Posted on May 15, 2013 by mtchamblee

Earlier this evening I had the kernel of a thought I wanted to explore tonight. After a 92-minute commute home–which would have been completely horrible if my son hadn’t been talking to me on the phone the entire time–I am not sure I will be as articulate as I want to be but I’ll do my best.

I believe there’s a balance between being grateful for the blessings that you have in your life and having low expectations. Here’s what I mean. I am grateful for so many things in my life: my relatively good health, the fact that I have a job, some of my personal possessions, a safe, comfortable home and safe, reliable, vehicle. So many things. And, even as I acknowledge my gratitude for the shoes on my feet and the clothes on my body, I also acknowledge that I would like to have better shoes–mine are coming loose at the seams or wearing out on the bottoms (not a good thing when it rains.) Yes, prosperity and poverty are relative. What we consider poverty here in America might look like wealth in a more resource-poor developing country. Compared to folks in many places in Europe, Asia, Africa, and many nations around the world, I am wealthy; and my post-baccalaureate education puts me in the top 10 percent in the world (the fact that I have a Ph.D. puts me in the top 1 percent.) So relative to many parts of the world, I have it made. But I don’t live in other parts of the world. I live in the US, where a variety of factors all intersect together and result in my earning at roughly a working class level even though I belong to the small club (3 percent of the US population) of people with a doctorate.

At a meeting this morning I was sharing a frustration that my unit does not have sufficient budget to do the important work we’re being asked to do. We have to begin cutting programs as well as finding other ways to cut costs. In response to this a person said to me, “I know it’s frustrating not to have enough resources but the other day I was talking to a colleague from another department and they were telling me that they have to bring pens and paper from home, that their department is cutting back on office supplies meaning that people have to bring in their supplies.” In essence what the person was saying was, “Even though you’re being asked to continue to do the same or more work with shrinking resources, at least you don’t have it as bad as X department.” As I listened I found myself nodding, saying “Thank you for this reminder. It’s good to be grateful for the resources we do have.” Even as I was saying this, part of me was saying “Wait a minute. Not so fast.”

In the world as it currently exists there will always be people, departments, institutions, nations, who have more than others–more material resources, more opportunities, more everything. And there will be folks who have less, who have little to nothing. I can be grateful for what I have and still have a desire to have something better. These are tricky, somewhat nuanced concepts, but important ones. We are told that when we work hard we can expect to be rewarded in recognition of the quality and quantity of what we produce. I find it somewhat counterproductive to say, “I know you don’t have the resources you need, but you’re lucky you’re getting anything. Things could be much worse, so be happy, grateful, satisfied.

Aaaargghh! I am not describing this as clearly as I want to. Gratitude is a beautiful thing–I have spent the last 443 straight days writing about it. I also know that it can be used as a tool to keep people’s expectations low that they deserve better. Many marginalized groups of people throughout the history of this country have been told to be grateful for their lot in life cause it could be a whole lot worse. There is a way in which gratitude is sometimes a tool to “guilt” people into accepting a status quo that is substandard to what they have actually earned and are entitled to. There is definitely a balance to achieve. Be grateful, yes, but also expect that having better is in the realm of possibility and is, in fact okay. I promise to keep pondering this notion because I think it’s important to tease this out a bit more. In the meantime, I will continue to both be grateful for what I have and at the same time expect good things for myself and for those around me. Selah.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 670

Posted on May 14, 2013 by mtchamblee

It is 11 p.m. and I just started writing. I got home from work at 10:00; I attended back-to-back graduation receptions on our campus. I drove home thinking as I breezed through what is normally the most gridlocked three miles of my trip how I wish the commute was like this every day. This is one of those days that felt like two different days: I had a good morning meeting at work, cranked out a project in the afternoon and the two events in the evening. I am grateful to be home and winding down. The trouble with getting home so late is that I still want to do all my regular things I do when I get home: catch up on Facebook, play with the dog a little bit, and putter around before settling in to write this blog and go to bed. In those situations I end up staying up way too late only to smack the clock radio the standard three times beginning at 5:39 when the radio comes on. Alas…

So I decided to spin the RNG (random number generator) wheel and pick tonight’s blog. I landed on Day 46 from August 14, 2011.

“So how long you think you’re going to keep writing this? Did you make a specific commitment to it?”

I sat in the sun on my friend’s back deck talking about the process of writing this blog. I confessed that some days I have more to say than others,and sometimes I just plain get stuck trying to figure out what to focus on in a given night. I definitely didn’t make a particular decision about how long I would write,and at times I’ve wondered how long I can sustain a daily blog. What I did commit to was writing each day about something I’m grateful for. Some days are harder than others–uncertainty about what’s next clouds my thoughts and creates that nervous flutter in the pit of my stomach. There isn’t a day that I don’t wake up with a sense of panic, the only thing that’s different from one day to the next is the degree of discomfort. But what I am beginning to recognize is that I’m no longer overwhelmed. I still get scared and I still get the blues, but the depth of fear and sadness is significantly less than it has been in the recent past.

I’m grateful for the tools I am discovering and incorporating into my life that are helping me navigate my current situation. And I am grateful for the people in my life who part of this journey. They help sustain me when I need support from outside myself. It’s not just the obvious people–my siblings,my kids,my friends,many of whom I’ve written about in this blog at various times. I am also fortunate to have a concerned and very helpful therapist who helps me make sense of what’s happening with straightforwardness, humor, and compassion.

Sometimes I am amazed to still be writing this blog. 670 days is a long time. I’ve written for 443 days straight after a two week hiatus in February 2011. Some days I feel like I have nothing to say that I haven’t already said. Some days this blog seems to be stuck on the same themes–but what can I say, I really am always grateful for family…Through it all, the daily focus on something positive helps me so much, even on those nights when I can’t articulate it. As I told my friend all those months ago, I have no idea how long I’ll keep writing every day. At some point I am likely to wind it down. But for the foreseeable future I’ll keep writing and sharing the lessons in gratitude that I’m learning each day. And be grateful in the process.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 669

Posted on May 13, 2013 by mtchamblee

Most days I don’t really know what to expect. I wake up after the third time hitting the snooze button on my ancient clock radio, and I slowly bring myself up into consciousness. Back during those months when I was unemployed and the days and weeks all blurred together, upon waking I used to announce to myself what day it was. “Today is Monday,” I would tell myself so that I could orient myself in time and space. I generally didn’t state the date; upon waking, simply knowing the day of the week was good enough. The rest I could sort out later. Back in those tumultuous days I often woke with a burning, fiery energy coursing through my limbs and chest. I referred to it in the early days of this blog as my “adrenalized” state; a sense of subconscious panic that set my nerves on fire. This morning there was none of that, it was simply the exhaustion from having gone to bed too late and waking a little later than I’d wanted.

These days I don’t need to announce to myself what day it is: I write the day and date and time each morning at the top of the page of my journal. Even as I’m writing my morningly reflections a part of my mind is running over what I can remember of my schedule so I can figure out what I am wearing to work. This as my alarm continues to ring. It sounds every seven minutes. I let it ring while I’m writing my journal so I keep a general sense of what time it is without having to look at the clock. I know, it’s weird, but it’s sort of my routine at the moment. I recognized within myself this morning that I was a little off my game; I couldn’t put my finger right on it, but I simply felt a bit off kilter. That turned out to be alright for the most part–I was able to function, just not as crisply as I would have liked. Over the course of the day I had my usual assortment of meetings and functions–some on the schedule, many not. I had things I wanted to accomplish today that in the midst of everything else I did not complete. I could choose to focus on what did not get done or I could turn my energy toward what I did.

What has been done, has been done; what has not been done has not been done. Let it be…

I find that I am a bit panicked by how quickly time is passing, and yet I recognize that panic is neither helpful or necessary. It will do nothing to slow the passage of time and if anything will waste the time I do have. So the best I can do is hold on for dear life as I hurtle into all the things that are unfolding around me. The idea that I can be truly prepared for any eventuality is ludicrous. I might as well relax and enjoy the ride, preparing and planning where I can, but improvising and adapting as “conditions on the ground” change, which they inevitably will. So I hold loosely to the idea of planning and try not to get too attached to outcomes, though this is a challenging notion. I show up most days simply wanting to be the best person I can, to do the best job that I can with what’s in front of me. Some days I am more “successful” than others, depending on how you define success.

I am grateful, then, for living in the moment as best I can. This moment is all I have. The weight of my entire life, my “legacy,” my impact on the world does not likely hinge on this moment. My impact on the world happens in small moments, not the grandiose ones I’d often imagined for myself. In “A Path with Heart” teacher and writer Jack Kornfield reminds us that at the end of our lives the questions we ask ourselves are very simple, “Did I love well? Did I live fully? Did I learn to let go?” These are among the questions I ask myself now, at this time in my life. It’s not really about how many meetings I attended, good suggestions I made to the powers that be, times I got something “right,” or looked good in what I was doing. It’s fundamentally about how I show up in the world and do I live my life with consistency, authenticity, integrity?

No, most days I really don’t know what to expect. So I start each day with an intention to do the best I can, to be the best I can and leave the rest of it to God.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 668

Posted on May 12, 2013 by mtchamblee

Tonight I want to express my deep gratitude for my oldest sibling, my sister Michaele in honor of her birthday. In so many ways my two older sisters, nine and seven years older than I am, were more like surrogate mothers for me and my younger sister Ruth. Among my earliest memories of her was her bandaging my wrist when I accidentally put my hand through a glass door. I had been outside playing with my other siblings–it was winter time and I had gotten cold and wanted to come inside. I knocked too hard on the glass portion of the door and put my hand right through it. My mother hadn’t been feeling well and was lying down and missed the whole thing. Michaele was the one who managed the situation, tending to my wound and helping me to feel better.

When the six of us kids were all still living at home, all four girls shared a bedroom upstairs, the two boys shared a second, and my grandfather lived in the third. Our parents’ master bedroom was on the first floor. For a time, I slept with Michaele and Ruth slept with Sandy. Michaele often complained that I peed on her, though of course I have no such recollection. During my early childhood I recall having a very serious case of the measles. Michaele was again called upon to help take care of me and I remember her carrying me from my parents’ room back up to our bedroom. So many experiences bonded me to my oldest sister and in spite of my likely irritating little kid-ness, she seemed to take to me. When she went away to college–all the way in New York, I felt like I would never see her agin. And when she finally returned home for Christmas on her first visit, I chortled with laughter at her newly acquired New York accent. How alien it sounded to my Midwestern ears.

Whenever she came to visit she drank coffee out of my mug–a little red and white checkered cup with the name “Terry” inscribed on it. I always got it out and ready for her when she was coming home. At the end of her three years in college (she graduated early), she’d married her long time sweetheart. They were about to pull out of the driveway, and to my 12 year old mind, out of our lives. I ran back into the house and pulled the Terry mug out of the cabinet and ran back to the car. “Here!” I thrust it into her hands, tears no doubt running down my face. Washington DC felt just as far away as New York had, and I was once again sure I would never see my big sister again (though I saw her again that Christmas…) In the years to come she would fly me out to DC to visit her, sometimes by myself and others with my sister Ruth. She even gave me her guitar when I was 15 and started me on a music-making path that I’m still on to this day.

In 1976 I wrote The Little Sister Song in honor of my sister Ruth. The first time I played that song for Michaele, she cried and made me play it at least three times. Perhaps it connected her back to simpler times, family, childhood connections, I don’t know. But it connected us once again to one another as we’d always been. In particular the line of the song that says, “You’ve grown up much too fast or am I living in the past…” would take us back to the old days. As I grew older I still made my way to DC to spend time with her, helping to take care of her infant daughter so she could get some much-needed rest and returning a few years later to help with the second one. Michaele and I had a number of funny home-improvement experiences as I helped her paint bedrooms, plant gardens, and engage in a variety of other activities intended (sometimes quite successfully) to spruce up the decor.

Over time, of course, as we each got busier with our lives, we spent less and less time together. I still consulted with her periodically on a variety of things and she was more than happy to weigh in on a variety of subjects. When my mother died in 1995, my sister Michaele stood at my father’s side for hours greeting every single person (and there were hundreds) who came through the line to pay their respects to him and honor my mother. She presided over many Christmas gatherings after that, working to keep the family traditions together and intact, particularly in the first few years after mommy died. One such Christmas I was flat on my back sick with a serious case of the flu, fevered, weak and wracked with a variety of symptoms. Michaele, a physician and my father also a physician, stood over my bedside arguing over the best course of treatment. Considering I felt like I was going to die, I tried to encourage them to save the arguing and just let me go. In the end my father’s wisdom prevailed and I was relatively quickly on the mend.

Michaele always seemed to me to be more of a daddy’s girl than a mommy’s girl. She was close to my father and ultimately was the only one who followed in his footsteps into the medical profession. I was with her at my father’s bedside the last few days of his life, and when he died she and I stood together just the two of us in his hospital room looking down at him. She was relatively calm (my siblings and I are not given to theatrics), and I saw a vulnerability in her grief that I hadn’t seen before. At Daddy’s funeral she stood in the place where she had stood with him 15 years earlier at mommy’s funeral. The older brother of my two brothers stood next to her and the other four of us stood across the aisle. This time I stood the whole time and greeted every guest that came to pay their respects. I had learned from watching Michaele all those years ago and I was not going to sit down.

I cannot write in these few paragraphs all that my big sister means to me. I cannot write about 56 years of history that I have with her–of her caring for me as an infant, a young child, a pre-teen. Two years ago, when the bottom fell out of my life Michaele was there for me quietly helping me month after month, taking care of me yet again. And when I moved this last year into her neck of the woods she helped me get my house set up–unpacking boxes, hanging pictures, sewing curtains for my windows. I am grateful beyond measure for who she is and who she has been for me. She has had a successful career, co-parented three children, and accomplished many wonderful things. But to paraphrase the song I wrote for my little sister all those years ago, “she’ll always be big sister to me.”

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 667

Posted on May 11, 2013 by mtchamblee

Tonight I am grateful for having had a mother and being one. I decided to write this evening about Mother’s Day as most folks will actually read this blog tomorrow. I write it relatively late in the evening and so many of the folks who read it do so in the morning–except for my California friends who get to preview it this evening.

I often get a little sad as May approaches; I miss my mother more keenly in the spring and although it’s been nearly 18 years since her death and the sting of it has eased, I periodically still grieve her loss. And yet tonight I celebrate the many wonderful mothers I have known and know now. I have admire each of my sisters and sisters-in-law for their dedication to their children: for all the miles driven to athletic events, concerts, and bar mitzvahs, all the temperatures taken and medicines dispensed by “Dr. Mom,” and the laughter and tears, joys and heartaches I’ve watched them go through with the 14 wonderful children and one grandchild the six of us have helped to raise.

In honor of Mother’s Day, especially honoring my sisters and our Mother, I want to offer Mama’s Song, which I wrote for my mother back in 1978. I recorded it this evening, and while the quality of the recording is perhaps not the best, the sentiment of the song still shines through some 35 years after it was written and I first played it for her. About 10 years ago my daughter started singing it with me and now she plays and sings it for me. I wrote about Mama’s song and the last time I played it for my mother in this blog on day 304. The main thing to know about it on this Mother’s Day eve is that it the words were written with the deep love that my mother had for her mother, and the music was written and performed with the love I had for my mother.

I am grateful for the gift of music that allowed me to give my mother the gift of this song and for my daughter to give it back to me. May all mothers around the world be blessed. So be it!

Mama’s Song

As time chalks off another year and adds it to the past
Let us take a moment now to look at memories that last
At times we have spent together
At the joys both great and small
At the little incidents we’ve shared
From the time that I was small

Then too there are the troubles that we faced as one,not two
We would laugh to keep from crying as a mother and daughter often do
And now there is between us
A bond of love so fine
That no power on earth could change it
Over countless periods of time

Oh Mama,there are no words to express this feeling that I have for you
Well it’s very warm and bright and lovely but above all else it’s true.
Our memories may number many
But to me they’re all too few
I’ll always thank God in his kind ness
For giving me someone like you.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 666

Posted on May 11, 2013 by mtchamblee

Today I did something unusual for me: I left work early (well, a little early–3 p.m.) I called my sister as I was commuting home to see if she wanted to play hooky too and go get a margarita or a lemonade and sit outside. It’s the first really warm (almost hot) day in several weeks. I cajoled and pressed and also suggested that I would throw a few burgers on the grill and make a salad for her and her family (god knows they feed me often enough.) So when I got near home I headed straight to the store to buy stuff for our impromptu cookout. When Ruth came we had to go back to the store–I had forgotten the charcoal: a key requirement when one is going to grill.

It was a good time. I started the grill and made the turkey burger patties while Ruth prepared baked beans. We talked a bit as I grilled the fancy cuisine of turkey burgers, hotdogs, and brats. It was a beautiful day, not too humid according to Ruth. I lived in the Bay area where humidity was a rarity. I must confess I am not looking forward to that meteorological phenomenon. I lived seven years out of a humid, mosquito-ridden climate and am slowly coming to grips with the fact that, along with cold, snowy winters I will now re-encounter hot, humid summers. Alas, it is what it is.

Ruth’s husband and children arrived a bit after 7:00. We had a lovely dinner punctuated with humorous stories from the children with liberal helpings of parental interrogation. I ate relatively quietly, enjoying, as usual, the animated discussion among the family unit. I am so pleased to have been able to host them; after all, I am a regular guest at their family dinner table. It is a reminder to me that I need to begin to open my house and have people over here. What people other than family remains to be seen–I haven’t met many folks outside of family and most of them are work colleagues who live closer to my workplace, which is 26 miles away from my house. Still, I’m going to think about sprucing my house up a little bit and getting things ready to have company every once in a while.

I am grateful this evening for simply having a good day and for the most part a good, if at times long and tiring week. As I write this the hour here on the East Coast is approaching midnight. Outside a heavy rain is falling, the aftermath of a line of thunderstorms that rumbled through over the course of the last couple of hours. I have set my alarm for 7:30, though I might turn it off and sleep a little later. We’ll see. Tonight is one of gratitude for the simple yet important things: family, breaking of bread, opening my home to some of my favorite people on the planet. Ruth and I never did have our margarita, but we can save that for another day. It’s the beauty of living close by. It’s been a good day, and I am truly grateful.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 665

Posted on May 9, 2013 by mtchamblee

Sometimes at the end of the day I feel like it’s already tomorrow–that I’ve already been active for two days worth of day. Things that seem like happened yesterday actually occurred this morning and conversations that seemed so long ago happened within the last few hours. Of course having a nearly two hour commute (1:50:02) tends to contribute to that feeling. I am sooooooo grateful to be nearing the end of the week. Because I’ve had several 48 hour days that the work week has felt more like 10 days than 5. I don’t have the energy to write much this evening, which is a little disappointing. Nevertheless I do want to at least offer a few items for simple gratitude.

As recent readers of this blog know by now I am a self-proclaimed “bird nerd.” I love to watch birds, identify them from their songs and calls, and take dozens of pictures of them. Last year I stumbled across an eagle’s nest camera–literally a camera pointed at the nest of a pair of bald eagle parents raising three youngsters in a nest high up in a tree near an Iowa farm. I watched the eaglets grow from fuzzy, awkward little white feathered creatures to large, sleek, dark colored eagles too big to remain in their home nest. They gave me months of viewing pleasure until the three flew away, presumably to start their own families somewhere. I have no idea how long it takes a bald eagle to develop the distinctive white feathering on their heads, but these birds were almost as stately in their deep brown-black plumage.

When I went back to look for the eagle cam this year, it appear that the eagles decided to nest in a different tree and not the one where the camera was trained on it. So I determined to find another family to follow and now I am watching three different nests–two bald eagle families and a red-tailed hawk. My schedule has been so crazy during the week that I can’t see two of the nests because it’s night time. The third is in California (http://www.ustream.tv/channel/humboldt-bay-eagle-cam/theater) and I usually have enough light to watch them for a while. I am looking forward to watching these birds grow from hatchlings into young adults. I love nature and am so grateful for the technology that allows me to watch these beautiful creatures.

I am grateful for something else, completely unrelated to the birds and nature, unless you count human nature. This evening as I was stuck in traffic (It took me an hour to go three miles…) I started into my usual ill-tempered, foul-mouthed railing against the gridlock. I say “usual” but I am usually alright with slower traffic; but the bumper-to-bumper standstill on the beltway headed from Virginia into Maryland sometimes sends me right over the edge of impatience, frustration and madness. Today, right in the middle of one of my tirades, I stopped myself. I calmed myself down, took some breaths, and decided not to look at my watch during the worst of the gridlock. I told myself to pretend that I had just started the drive (versus already being an hour into it) and continued to listen to my audiobook, determined to remain as calm as I possibly could given the situation. For the most part I managed it for the majority of my 110 minute trip. I am grateful for the strength required to pull myself out of my commuter funk and into a better space. It wasn’t easy and I hit an occasional “bump” in my plan to be calm, but for the most part I was able to maintain a level of equanimity throughout much of the time. I even managed to still play ball with the dog (though I couldn’t have felt less like doing anything of the sort.) After all, she didn’t deserve my ill-temperedness.

Today has been another tiring day. But tomorrow is Friday and I am looking forward to getting a little rest over the weekend. Meanwhile I’ll do my best to remain present throughout the workday Friday and approach my commute home in the evening with as much calm as I can muster. I am grateful in advance for the tools and resources that will help me have another safe, uneventful and maybe even enjoyable drive home. May it be so!

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 664

Posted on May 8, 2013 by mtchamblee

I am one tired person. I was up late last night and woke at my usual time this morning. I got home after 7 p.m. after a one hour and 40 minute drive home. I walked then fed the dog, heated up leftovers and ate in front of the news which I had to rewind to watch in its entirety. Then I simply vegetated, reading several Facebook posts. It has been one of those evenings when I’d like to complain and say things like, “Mama said there’ll be days like this…” But the truth is this hasn’t been a bad day–a long, tiring day, but overall a decent day.

I think sometimes I carry more weight (“burdens”) over the course of the day than I realize. Besides the actual work itself, which upon reflection really isn’t difficult, particularly when compared to more complex or physically or mentally challenging tasks. But when you layer onto it other environmental factors that add extra stress or pressure, then it feels that much heavier and makes the work day feel twice as long or the tasks much more demanding. Thus, on days like this I arrive home (after battling the sometimes interminably long commute) and am exhausted and a bit cranky. I am grateful then that as I sit here now exhaling and reflecting on the day I acknowledge that it was in fact a decent day.

Yesterday I wrote that I am in fact living out my life purpose, and I am. My “job,” the place that I go to for eight hours per day, five days per week is not necessarily where I fully live out my purpose, though a chunk of my time I am. People are a primary focus for my life purpose and much of what I do at my job is to work toward the wellbeing of a segment of people. Sometimes the bureaucracy and political machinations involved in any given workplace is enough to make one crazy. You expend energy doing your job and additionally expend a whole lot more managing the background noise and external environmental factors that happen over the course of a given day, week, or month. It can be downright exhausting. Nevertheless, I am grateful for having the opportunity to engage in important work–occasional drama notwithstanding–with mostly good people.

Mama said there’ll be days like this. Or as James Taylor sings in, “Everybody Has the Blues,” “Everybody got some days that they can’t explain…” So I take days like this one with a grain of salt, understanding that this too will pass and before I know it, it will be tomorrow. I remain grateful for the many blessings that are present in my life this and every day: my children, my siblings, all my family and friends perched as always at the top of my list of all for which I am most grateful. These things remain with me throughout the course of a given day, and I find myself experiencing quiet bursts of gratitude when I am least expecting it. May they continue to rain down on me, particularly during the more difficult moments over the course of a day (like the 100 minute commute…)

I will end by offering the night time prayer from the New Zealand Prayer Book (1989) that I share periodically. I particularly resonate with the sentiment, “What has been done has been done; what has not been done has not been done…let it be…”

God, it is night.
The night is for stillness.
Let us be still in the presence of God.
It is night after a long day.
What has been done has been done;
what has not been done has not been done;
let it be.
The night is quiet.
Let the quietness of your peace enfold us,
all dear to us,and all who have no peace.
The night heralds the dawn.
Let us look expectantly to a new day,
new joys, new possibilities.
In your name we pray. Amen.

May it be so for us all!

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 663

Posted on May 7, 2013 by mtchamblee

How often I’ve heard myself say, “I want to know my life purpose. Why am I here on the planet in this place at this time? Tell me!” I would ask God impatiently, somehow assuming that I wasn’t already living my life purpose, that I wasn’t already doing what I was put here on the planet to do. Somehow I managed to convince myself that whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing (according to whom?) it must be something grand and of great importance and significant in order for it to matter. I am destined for greatness, aren’t I? It generally has not been about achieving fame, I don’t think (though the fortune part of fame and fortune does have some appeal). It has been about having life’s work that represents something, some level of achievement, accomplishment that lets me and the rest of the world know I’ve done something worthwhile.

As I sit here this evening I realize what a trap it is to be constantly looking for something that quite possibly doesn’t exist. While I’ve been trying to sort out what I should be doing, it’s starting to dawn on me that I’m already doing it. Like many people I’ve spent time thinking about how I can contribute to making the world a better place. I want to make a difference in the world and all those other kinds of Miss America-esque platitudes. Somehow along the way I got a very skewed sense of what that might look like and just this evening, I took another clarifying step toward understanding that I’ve been making a difference, doing what I’m supposed to be doing, living out my calling. It’s simply happened in such a quiet, understated way that I haven’t recognized it.

Anyone who has read this blog on a semi-regular basis knows that I like metaphors as means to describe concepts. Gaining clarity on the matter of my calling is like looking at something under a microscope: at first it’s fuzzy and indistinct, you can see the edges of the thing you’re looking at, but not in detail. So you turn the coarse-focus knob to bring the object into some focus–closer and closer–and then use the fine-focus knob to bring it into sharp relief. It practically pops into view with amazing clarity and sharpness. My search for my life purpose has been a bit like that: I keep turning and turning and my purpose gets less and less fuzzy. The fundamental thing hasn’t changed–the object on the slide is the same when it’s first blurry and undefined as it is when it is sharply defined and clear. The only thing that’s changed is my vision, the clarity with which I am looking at it.

Tonight as I circled the computer preparing to settle into blog writing, I figured I’d spin the wheel to see which blog the random number generator would pick. I wasn’t sure I’d need to post a supplement to a previously written blog–I already thought about a potential topic–but figured I’d take a turn with the RNG and see what popped up. As I read the old post I received the next slight turn of the fine-focus knob that sharpened my vision enough to recognize that I’ve been walking in my purpose for a long time. The blog was about how I’d responded to a friend who needed a listening ear from me, a shoulder to cry on, and as I read it I had a serious “Ah Ha!” moment alerting me that I was about to get some real clarity.

And so I now know or am clearer about two things. First, it’s alright to not know or be able to describe exactly what your life purpose is, as long as you’re living it. My oft-repeated quote applies “To find out what one is fitted to do and to secure the opportunity to do it is the key to happiness.” I have been growing into what I am “fitted to do” and have been doing it for a very, very long time. It simply didn’t come in the package I was expecting. I’m grateful that I have not spent my entire life in discontent, feeling out of alignment with my life purpose. I’d simply been missing the cues. Second, the difference I make in the world doesn’t happen on a grand stage or in the public eye. It happens mostly in one-on-one conversations, one individual or small group of individuals at a time. People like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Oprah and Ghandi and Jesus and those kind of people affect millions, hundreds of millions of people over the course of their lifetimes and beyond. The rest of us have much smaller but no less important spheres of influence.

I’m still turning the fine adjustment knob on my life microscope–things aren’t crystal clear yet–but I am grateful for the clarity I’m receiving and what I’m learning. Life purpose doesn’t have to be this grand thing. It can be simple and beautiful and as natural to you as breathing. What is that for you? Put it under the microscope and take a look.

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Lessons in Gratitude Day 662

Posted on May 6, 2013 by mtchamblee

Tonight I spun the random number generator and landed on a pretty good subject, so I’ll share a bit of the blog from day 228, written on February 19, 2012 after a one-week break from writing this blog. I had hit a wall on day 227 and felt like I couldn’t find anything to say. I had hit serious writer’s block and wasn’t sure I’d be able to write any more. Once I picked back up on day 228, there was no looking back. Since that day I’ve written over 400 straight blogs without a gap. I’ve definitely had moments when I have hit that same wall and have been uncertain as to whether or not I was going to be able to eke out a couple hundred words, but for now I’ve been able to dig deep and find the words to express my gratitude for given day.

I imagine one of these days soon I’ll take another break from writing this blog–perhaps when I reach 700 in a little over a month, or at some other point. I want to be thoughtful about it as I do, to develop an “exit strategy” for moving toward closing out the daily blogging. Doubtless I will continue writing in some form that I am hoping will emerge. In the meantime, I remain committed to daily writing even, on those occasions like tonight when I am too tired to string together too many coherent sentences. So I spun the wheel and am sharing with you some thoughts from day 228:

“Although I haven’t blogged in a little over a week, I have nonetheless written every day. I sort of accidentally started a morning writing practice back at the end of January, and although it is not my intention to box myself into that feeling of having to write every single day, I have managed to do just that since February 5. I use that time as a means of writing pretty much whatever is on my mind when I first wake up. As I’ve written about frequently in this blog, I often awaken much earlier than I like (usually just before dawn, around 5:30 0r s0), and because I have too many things on my brain, I can’t get back to sleep. I decided within myself a few weeks ago that rather than trying to cajole myself back into sleep (which doesn’t usually work), I would instead try to bring myself fully awake and sit up and start writing about whatever comes up. It’s been a good practice because it has allowed me to write my way through the anxiety-induced adrenaline rush that so often hits me in the early morning. I sometimes start out with some worry or fear that sends adrenaline coursing through my extremities like liquid energy. By the time I’ve written for several minutes (I’ve been averaging around 45 minutes or so) I am much calmer and my thoughts are clearer. I’ve jotted on the cover of the journal I’m writing in “Writing my way to clarity,” because that’s what it feels like I’ve been doing with the morning writing. It really is helping me sort a few things out, first by surfacing fears that I’ve previously not given voice to. It has become an important addition to my daily life.

I also continue to practice daily gratitude. This past week included gratefulness for many blessings of simple things as well as finding gratitude in the things that were more challenging. I am grateful for the relative health and wellbeing of my family–myself and my children–and for the safety and security we enjoy in our daily lives. While we have our struggles we also have things to smile and laugh at,to celebrate and revel in,and definitely to be grateful for. I am also grateful for being able to give of myself in those ways that I can. Although financial means might limit my ability to offer generosity in that form, I can certainly offer time, experience, gifts and talents to whomever might need them.”

I continue to use writing–my journal in the mornings and my blog at night–to help me work through what’s on my mind. Journaling in particular helps me unburden my heart and dump out my thoughts onto the paper. Over the past few days I’ve been able to put things out there where I can look at them and hopefully make sense of some of it. Writing for myself versus an audience gives me a certain freedom of self-expression I have few other places in my life. I am grateful for the clarifying practice of journaling. The bookend practice of blogging in the evening helps me to crystallize (sometimes) my thoughts into coherent concepts. I have no idea at this moment what direction the blogging will take. I remain in thought about what’s to become of it, and as is the case with most things, I am learning to relax and let go and see what decides to emerge. In the meantime, I’ll meet you back here tomorrow evening for more lessons in gratitude.

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