Category: Love

A Rescue

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

12805909_102632486799965_8624804996206720717_n (1)I used to babysit when I was a teenager. I have always enjoyed spending time with children. At twenty five cents an hour my income from those Friday and Saturday night gigs never came to much. It wasn’t unusual at all for me to walk away from a long evening of corralling as many as six youngsters with a dollar in my pocket. Taking care of dogs while neighbors were on vacation was always a much less labor intensive venture. It usually simply meant checking in on the little critters each day and filling their water and food bowls. Because most animals lived outside in a fenced in yard in those days there was no need to take them for walks or even spend a great deal of time with them. The pay couldn’t be based on hours so it was more like earning a professional salary, often as much as five dollars a week for little more than a few minutes of actual work. Caring for a pet was always like being generously compensated for having fun.

Today I am sitting in my daughter’s home about two hundred miles from my own abode for the purpose of keeping her two dogs comfortable in her absence. They are elegant little creatures who only spend enough time in the yard to relieve themselves several times each day. Instead they hold court in their domain of the great indoors. They recline in comfy beds designed solely for their comfort and play with a variety of toys that are only theirs. To say that they are loved is an understatement. I suspect that if they were allowed to travel inside the cabin of a plane and romp through Yellowstone National Park with their family, they would be enjoying a grand vacation right now. Instead they have to stay behind while the rest of their crew takes some time off each year.

From appearances one might come to the false conclusion that the two dogs have always been coddled but that would be false. The main reason that I am watching them in the familiar environment of their home is because one of them has only recently been rescued from an horrific fate. She is a beautiful collie who not long ago was found wandering the streets of Kansas with a shabby and mangy coat and a body so thin that it appeared that she had not eaten in weeks. She was homeless, hungry and very sick, so much so that she was initially deemed a lost cause by those who found her. But for the goodness of a Texas rescue group she would have been summarily put to sleep. Instead she traveled hundreds of miles with kindly individuals who wanted the opportunity to make her whole again. In the end she survived her ordeal and once again became beautiful. That’s when my daughter and her children saw a photograph of her and knew that she needed to be theirs.

The team that rescued her interviewed the family and then brought the dog to visit their home. Everyone fell in love with her immediately and the caseworker could see that the sweet little dog would be treasured. A deal was struck and she became a member of the clan but not without a few more bumps in the road.

The children named her Hermione for one of their favorite characters in the Harry Potter series of books. She lived up to her name in appearance but was far more anxious and timid than Harry’s plucky sidekick. It became immediately apparent that she had endured far more than anyone imagined. She was skittish, often pacing nervously around the room as though she was in fear that something terrible might happen at any moment. She was particularly frightened of men, causing all of us to wonder if she had been abused at the hands of some brute in her long and treacherous journey. It took her much more time to trust her new keepers but ever so slowly she began to realize that they were not going to hurt her.

She sat next to my daughter for most of the day and slept in my granddaughter’s  room at night. Even though she would run from my son-in-law she enjoyed sitting at his feet under his desk whenever he worked on his computer in the evenings. Lucy, the other little pup who already lived in the house slowly coaxed Hermione into playing with her and the boys. Over time she relaxed and began to trust the members of her new family. Her coat began to gleam from the care that they gave her. Her tail wagged more often than it fell between her legs. She began to show more and more of her personality which is quiet and gentle. She became protective of the people who had provided her with a loving home but sometimes her past still haunted her in her dreams. There were moments when she would cry but now there was someone to comfort her.

I’m here today because my daughter feared that it was too soon to send Hermione to a kennel or even to my home while everyone was away on vacation. She felt that the poor girl might think that she was being abandoned once again. It seemed best to allow Hermione to enjoy the comforts of the environment that she has grown to love. I was enlisted to watch over her and her little companion, Lucy.

Our days are rather simple. They begin with a trip outdoors followed by a nice breakfast. We play for a time and then they squeeze in a morning nap while I write. They love to curl up on the couch and snore. It is quite peaceful. Later we snuggle and play. They enjoy being hugged and petted. When one comes the other follows and pushes her way to the fore. They are like two kids with a sibling rivalry, wanting as much attention as I am willing to give. It is easy to care for them and I joke with them that I plan to steal them away to my home when it is time for me to return.

They are doing well although it is apparent that they long for their family to come home once again. I suspect that they lose track of time but certain instincts tell them that those that they love have been away far longer than usual. Luckily they know me well enough to trust that eventually all will soon be normal again. I am quite happy to be able to spend time with them. They are both very good dogs who have done their best to make me feel welcome. They demonstrate their gratitude for my efforts and let me know that they are happy to have me here with them.

Dogs are indeed remarkable creatures. They are so faithful and loving. It is difficult for me to imagine why anyone would ever be cruel to them. They rely on us for their care and feeding but give back far more in return for our efforts. They are a glorious gift that we should cherish and thankfully there are kind souls who do rescue work to help the pups who have been neglected or abused. It warms my heart to know that my daughter and her family have taken the time to bring joy and contentment to Hermione, a little collie who might otherwise have died.

Caring for a pet brings out the best instincts in humans. It is a task requiring responsibility and love. It appeals to our better natures and makes our world a happier place to be. As I sit in the quiet and watch my grand dogs snoring peacefully I feel relaxed and content. I wonder if we humans rescue them or they rescue us.

Empathy

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

comfortOne of my former students recently lamented what she saw as a lack of empathy in the world today. I have to admit that I have been fortunate to have encountered empathetic individuals over and over again. They have taught me how to forget myself and surrender to a state of pure understanding.

Just what is true empathy? The dictionary describes it as an awareness and acceptance of another’s feelings and emotions. In a sense it is the capacity to put oneself into another’s heart. Roman Krznaric, a founding member of The School of Life in London, has described some of the components of empathetic behavior in his book, Six Habits of Highly Empathetic People.

Dr. Krznaric notes that empathetic individuals are usually highly curious about strangers. They are genuinely interested in learning about other people, especially those who seem different from themselves. On my most recent vacation I continually found myself wondering about the men and women that I met along the way, particularly those who lived in tiny towns that appeared to have been forgotten by society. So many rural areas have little or nothing to offer their citizens. Life is a dreary prospect when the local economy is blighted. I saw so many abandoned businesses and factories that may have once provided hope but were now simply ghostly reminders of work that is now more and more difficult to find.

The people who lived in such places looked as though they were somehow trapped in a never ending cycle of want. They sat in front of broken down trailers or homes with littered yards, seemingly having nothing to do even in the middle of a work day. I imagined the dreariness of their lives. I felt that I understood why they might be attracted to the craven promises of politicians promising a way out of their situations. I also saw that they were proud people who would not want my pity. They held their heads high and stared straight at me in defiance.

They reminded me of a family to whom my grandmother had introduced me long ago, a group from the hills of Arkansas who lived in the most primitive conditions that I have ever seen. My grandmother cautioned me to suspend my judgement of them for they were hard working and kind according to her measure. I have never forgotten the way my grandma honored their humble hospitality and the treatment of respect that she insisted that we give them. I suspect that my first experience of empathy came at that moment.

Another empathetic habit is challenging prejudices and finding commonalities. I suspect that this is sometimes difficult for most of us because we rarely leave our own comfort zones. I grew up rather isolated from people who were different from myself. My mom taught at the local Catholic school so that my brothers and I might attend without paying tuition. Most of my classmates were middle class and many had well educated parents. While my family satisfied the government definition of poverty, my mom was adept at hiding that fact from us and the outside world. We fit in not realizing that we were imposters.

As a young woman in my twenties I began to encounter individuals who had experienced life in ways far different from my own. Their parents were classic blue collar types. They cleaned buildings for a living and drove dilapidated old cars. They often lived on the economic edge and had little interest in education. At first I felt as though I had landed on the moon when I met them but eventually I learned a great deal from them. They were not book smart but they had a common sense that made them quite intelligent in the ways of the streets. They were good people who showed me how to relax and enjoy the smaller victories in life. They were the kind of individuals who would not have thought twice about running into a burning building to rescue a puppy. I liked them very much and grew to respect them enormously. I found that in many ways I had more in common with them than with my college educated friends.

Empathy often comes from trying another person’s life. When I was in high school one of my teachers called that walking in someone’s shoes. He urged us to consider others’ circumstances before making judgements. Over time I have been in so many different situations and some of them have been quite dire. There were times when my mother was very ill that I felt abandoned by all of society. I understand what it is like to be responsible for someone and to have every door shut in my face. Along the way I always managed to find kind souls in the most unexpected places, people who held out their hands to help me when I was the most desperate. I learned to share my story and admit to my weaknesses. I realized that none of us are ever able to be all alone. We must sometimes be willing to accept the kindnesses of strangers.

Learning to be empathetic is not that difficult as long as we are ready to just listen. Often all a suffering individual needs is a friendly ear. At those times we don’t even have to actively find solutions to their problems. They only wish us to understand. When action is demanded we should be ready to go the extra mile for them like my long time neighbor and friend, Betty, has always done. It was well known on our little street that her door was open 24/7. Sometimes we didn’t even have to knock if we had a problem. She would see us heading for her door and meet us there, inviting us inside for a cool drink, a bit of dessert and a whole lot of loving wisdom. I suspect that over time Betty has helped countless people with her folksy intuition. I can’t remember a single time that I left her presence without feeling as though I had just conferred with an oracle of Delphi. To this day she is willing to drop everything to make a weary soul feel whole again. She has mastered the art of empathy just by being totally there for whomever seeks an audience.

When we focus on the lives of others rather than our own we are well on our way to becoming empathetic. I have been fortunate to meet many such people and my hope is that my former student will be lucky enough to enjoy such encounters. It is an amazing experience to realize that somebody has looked into your heart and truly understands and loves everything that they see. Each of us has the capacity to be that kind of person. We just have to begin the process by taking one step at a time and risking a suspension of judgement. It is not really that difficult to be empathetic once you get the hang of it and the rewards for being so are immeasurable.

I Did It!

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

IMG_1282A few years back I went on a family vacation to Colorado. My son-in-law Scott had devised a plan for all of us to go backpacking in Rocky Mountain National Park. He assured us that it would be a rather leisurely stroll up a minor peak where a lovely lake awaited us. The plan was to bring our tents and backpacks so that we might spend the night in the secluded spot. It sounded like a doable challenge, especially since Scott had done a great deal of research ahead of time. We would be taking some rather young children on our adventure and my husband Mike and I were well into our sixties and admittedly not in the best of shape, so Scott had done his homework in choosing a destination rated moderate in difficulty.

I was quite excited because it had been years since Mike and I had backpacked into the mountains. We had once attempted to reach the summit of Long’s Peak but had to turn back when one of our daughters was overcome with mountain sickness. Luckily we had camped along the trail at a lower elevation so she was able to rest for a time and recover. By then it was far too late in the day to try our ascent again so we gave up and decided to return another time. We got busy with living and didn’t come back until we knew that we were no longer as hardy as we had once been. A short trek up an easier trail would have to do.

Mike and I spent a great deal of time at REI accumulating the proper equipment. Our old backpacks were sadly worn and out of date so we invested in new ones that were better built. We decided to purchase lightweight sleeping bags and a two person backpacking tent. We already had a single burner stove for cooking and lots of containers to carry the water that we would need. We carefully weighed our loads and spent time walking around the neighborhood to increase our stamina. We thought that after our more difficult adventures this one would be a walk in the park.

We headquartered at my brothers‘ cabin on Storm Mountain. I began to worry just a bit when a walk along the road near their house left me feeling breathless. I told myself that I just needed to acclimate to the elevation. After all, I was coming from only a few miles above sea level to an area that nature had pushed up to great heights. I suspected that after a couple of days my lungs would be okay in the less oxygenated environment.

We ate pasta the night before our journey hoping that the carbs would provide us with extra energy. I hardly slept in anticipation of our trip. We were all set to venture out when one of my grandsons fell on the gravel driveway and got a huge bloody gash in his knee. Fearing that he might need stitches we detoured to a local clinic. The doctor saw him right away, cleaned the wound and declared him ready to go. We were off and running albeit a few hours later than we had planned.

We were grinning from ear to ear as we embarked on our hike. Scott reckoned that it would take us three or four hours to reach our destination. That would give us plenty of time to explore the area before retiring for the night. We were all smiles as we took our first steps down the trail. It didn’t seem to be difficult at all. We began to believe that we would hardly break a sweat achieving our goal.

Before long the asphalt pavement gave way to a more rugged pathway filled with sharp edged rocks and boulders that required us to increase our strides. The gentle slopes became steep and before long I found myself huffing and puffing. I could feel the pounding of my heart inside my ears and I suddenly wondered if I was up to this challenge. Unwilling to admit my concerns to anyone I just kept moving forward one step at a time.

Eventually the trail became so rugged that I had to play mind games to keep moving forward. I would see a log or a rock up ahead and tell myself that I had to proceed until I reached that small goal and only then would I be able to rest for a time. Over and over again I maintained my motivation by starting and stopping, pretending to need a swig of water or a bite of one of my granola bars. The hours ticked by and I feared that I was no closer to my goal. My children and grandchildren had grown weary of lagging behind and were long gone. Only Mike was walking steadily behind me to reassure me that I was not going to pass out alone on the mountain.

Along the way I encountered other hikers who were in worse condition than I was. I pretended to be strong as I sauntered past them and smiled when I heard them note that I appeared to be a very experienced backpacker. I only collapsed when I was out of view, usually pretending to be so taken by the lovely scenery that I had to linger for a time. The truth was that I was running out of steam and saw no end in sight. I didn’t want to disappoint my family or myself. I decided that I had to muster my determination even if it killed me and that was indeed a possibility.

Just when I thought that I was unable to take another step my two eldest grandsons appeared. They had already reached the end of the trail and had set up camp. They encouraged me by insisting that I was almost there. One of them went to help Mike carry some of the load and the other took my backpack and hoisted it over his shoulders. I felt that angels from heaven had descended to aid me in my hour of need.

We walked along talking about a variety of topics most of which were rather deep. I suppose that mountainous environs are cause for reflection and we certainly had time to discuss the state of the world. The good company and conversation made the time and the effort seem less brutal and before I knew it we were rounding a switchback that led into our campsite for the night. I wanted to kiss the ground but I maintained my composure as though I had only completed a little walk that hardly caused me to strain.

It was lovely up there, more so because I was at the top of the world with all of my children and grandchildren. We had brought a whole lot of love and laughter to that place. I was proud that I had made it. I was happy to realize just how wonderful my life really was. I celebrated and rejoiced and slept like a baby even though the rangers had warned us that there were bears in the area.

The next day as I descended I passed people coming up the trail who marveled when they learned that I had spent a night on the mountain. They complained that the trail was far more difficult to navigate than they had been led to believe. I proudly insisted that if I could make it so could they. I was admittedly quite full of myself at that moment. Going down was far easier that coming up had been. I fairly flew to the parking lot where our cars waited to take us back to the luxury of our cabin.

I knew then that my rugged camping days were over. I had grown soft and old. I no longer had the desire or need to prove my mettle. I would leave that to the youngsters. Still I am so glad that I made that kind of trip one last time. I did it! 

Life In Color

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

5172363-joseph-and-his-coat-of-many-colors_331590I’ve read somewhere that dreaming in color is indicative of a creative mind. Not only have I never seen night time images in Kodachrome, but of late I don’t even dream much anymore which is probably related to the fact that as I age I don’t sleep for long stretches of time anymore. I am growing older and I come from a time far different than today. I was a small child when television was in its infancy. The programs that we watched on those tiny screens inside wooden boxes were in lovely shades of black, white and gray. We couldn’t even imagine that there would one day be an NBC peacock. We were as content to tune in to those colorless shows as we were to see images of ourselves in mostly black and white photographs. We were still a very long way from so many of the advances that now seem to be par for the course. The progress that we have made is good, as it should be. Those of us in our senior years are nostalgic but our reverie should not include a desire to return to outmoded ways of doing things.

I remember the great anticipation that ensued when the television series Bonanza became one of the first programs to feature living color. It was an exciting time even for those of us who did not yet own color televisions. Just knowing that someone, somewhere was seeing the green trees and blue skies of the Ponderosa was thrilling. We had entered a whole new world that would only become more and more brilliantly hued over the ensuing years.

It is all too appropriate that our modern day images be filled with a spectrum of reds and yellows and blues mixed together to create greens and purples and oranges. Life is a magnificent rainbow that includes the glorious variety of nature and mankind. There is a beauty in diversity that is never found in the dull sameness of black and white. We are all part of a colorful world that we should embrace but sometimes neglect or even refuse to do.

Just as we didn’t have color photographs or television back when I was very young we humans had a tendency to isolate ourselves from those whose skin appeared different from ours. We convinced ourselves that our ways were normal but in reality we must have known that it was not right to judge anyone without ever getting to know them. Eventually we allowed ourselves to be neighbors and friends with individuals of many different colors. We learned that we had been missing so much and that life was more vibrant and lovely than we had ever before imagined.

When I was just a girl I thought that I would never know anyone who was gay or a lesbian, but I was wrong. As those with differing sexual preferences began to bravely reveal themselves I learned that some of my friends and relatives alike belonged to a world that had once seemed so confusing to me but now seems so perfectly normal. The rainbow flag of the LGBT community is a beautiful thing that represents love. I wonder how we ever could have believed that caring relationships between any two people was anything other than beautiful.

With inventiveness and acceptance we have entered a brighter world filled with possibilities that seemed not to exist when I was young. We have shown that blending hues together is interesting and inclusive. The days of our ignorance should be gone but sadly they are not. Just as it would seem ludicrous to find someone still watching television from a small box with only shades of gray, it should be just as ridiculous to continue to harbor outdated thinking that is cruel, unforgiving and without reason.

As a Christian I was always taught that God makes each of us in His own image and likeness. If we reflect on that idea we realize that God is telling us that every one of His creations is wondrous and perfect. He loves us without conditions and wants us to feel the same. He sent His son to teach us how to behave. Unfortunately some of us never really understood the messages that Jesus made so clear. Not once did He preach that we should spurn those who are not like us. He often went out of His way to embrace those who were outcasts of society. I interpret His actions as meaning that the rules are very simple. We must love everyone, even those who appear to be or think differently. It’s not really that difficult to do. It doesn’t even take much practice. It just requires suspending all restrictions and coloring outside of the lines. We have to break the old rules to follow the new rules which are far more right and just.

Once we experience the colors of the world there is no turning back. We burst out of the boxes that have constricted us and see the watercolors that make life so much more enjoyable. We begin to realize that we only see different hues because of the way our eyes are processing the light. Being able to see the true appeal of all of the world is a gift that makes us feel more joyful. Without the great big box of crayons life would indeed be dull.

Winter has always been symbolic of death. With its withering and limited palette of variations in light it has a certain beauty but none as breathtaking as the riotous colors of spring, a time of life and renewal. We can choose the end of the seasons or the hopeful beginning. It us up to each of us to see the full spectrum of life and rejoice in it.

I am often saddened in knowing that we still have many people who are unwilling to change but I’d like to believe that they are more and more often becoming the minority among us. Slowly but surely we are shining the light on a more beautiful way of living. Because our young have always been more willing to take risks and embrace adventure, they are leading the way to more colorful tomorrows and that is good. Perhaps one day the pallid world of old will be housed in an ancient junkyard and all of us will view life in color. 

Linger Longer

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

glacier-sm10-735-rainbowI have a memory that I keep in my heart and often bring to life. It is from long ago. My father and I are sitting in the kitchen of our home on Northdale Street, just the two of us in the quiet of night. I am six years old and he is thirty one. We are at the table drinking grape juice with only the night light on the stove providing illumination. We are smiling and laughing. It feels good to be there with him. I can tell that both of us are happy and content. I can’t remember our topic of conversation but that doesn’t seem to matter. I only recall feeling at peace and wanting to linger there just a bit longer.

I have had many such moments over the years when I wanted to stop the ticking of the clock so that I might have more time to enjoy a special moment. It seems as though the childhood of my two daughters sped by far too quickly. I loved the simple times that we shared especially in the lazy days of summer when we were able to sleep in and had entire days before us to roam and find adventure. I remember stopping with my friend Linda for shaved ice snow cones on Old Galveston Road after swim lessons and traveling with Mike and the girls to the mountains in our Chevy truck. There was the year when my children and I read A Tree Grows In Brooklyn and pronounced it our all time favorite novel with tears rolling down our cheeks. I laugh at the thought of the day when we so enjoyed the movie E.T. that we returned for a second screening after dinner so that we might share our new favorite film with Mike. I loved the evenings when I sat in the front yard watching all of the neighborhood children run and play until the moon and the stars came out while laughing at the stories and wisdom of my good friends, Carol and Betty. Those were some of the best times of my life and I often wish that I had lingered just a bit longer when I was in those moments.

I have been on vacation trips so incredible that I never again wanted to return home. Seeing a rainbow in Glacier National Park as we rounded a curve in the road brought me to tears. Walking with grandson Andrew along the beach in Chatham still makes me smile. Remembering the spiritual conversations that I shared with Jack under the ancient trees of Yosemite National Park is a priceless treasure. Watching Ben and Abigail play so joyfully in Central Park or Eli and Ian romping on a rocky beach near Seattle are pictures to comfort me even when times grow difficult. Ringing in the New Year in Austria with Monica and Franz comforted me at a time of change and loss. If I had the power I would have stretched out those hours so that they would not have gone by so quickly. I would have stopped the clock and lingered longer.

Have you ever noticed that when we are experiencing pain, suffering or death even the seconds seem to stall as if time has decided to stand still to mock our suffering? We feel as though we will surely collapse before our trials are over. It is then that we find solace in harking back to thoughts of the good things that we have experienced, They remind us that life always has a tendency to work its way back to joy. Sadly we can’t seem to stop the advance of the hours when we are the happiest but we can bring pleasant images to mind anytime we want or need to do so.

We have no guarantees of what tomorrow or even the next minute will bring but we always have our memories. Even those who become afflicted with Alzheimers are often able to recall the distant past even when they no longer remember what happened only days before. Perhaps it is the mind’s way of helping us to cope. By thinking of the beauty and blessings we have known in the past it becomes easier to deal with even a difficult present.

When I was a very young and inexperienced teacher I often judged the success or failure of my day on the basis of how many bad events had occurred. I did that as a young mother as well. Over time I became happier and more productive by instead harking back to the positive things that had occurred. As I reflected on them I realized how much more often they occurred than the horrors. All and all if we linger just a bit longer when we are enjoying life that moment will imprint on our brains and serve us well in the future. 

We all have many struggles that overwhelm us. We grow fearful and sad. We wish for success, money and good health. We run in a rat race and accumulate possessions that ultimately grow old and worn. We soon realize that our happiest times are often so simple: seeing our babies for the first time, getting an unexpected hug or kiss, laughing until the wee hours with friends, feeling rain on our faces, reaching the top of a mountain. Our stresses usually come from forgetting to linger longer in a joyful moment.

A good friend recently wrote a blog dedicated to showing young mothers how to give themselves the gift of enjoyment in the moment. Perhaps each of us should begin a daily ritual in which we set aside a few minutes to be totally free of any but beautiful thoughts. It may be exercise that brings us to our happy place or music or even reading from a special book. We can meditate or write in a journal. Sometimes just sitting in silence is all that we need. We owe it to ourselves to take the time to linger longer. The more we do this, the easier it will become to relax and be present in an untroubled state of mind.

I must admit that I am someone who too often measures the merit of a day by the number of my accomplishments. I have difficulty slowing my pace and relaxing to the point of inactivity. I often feel that I am being selfish to lavish the gift of time on myself but I know full well that it is one of the best things that I might do. In being wholly in a relaxed state of mind I find clarity of purpose and energy to face any problems before me. I in fact become far more productive and tend to stew less over my own predicaments. I give myself oxygen first so that I will be useful to others who may need my help.

Find those triumphant memories that bring a smile to your face. Let them envelop you until you are certain that you will always remember how good they felt. Carry them with you as reminders that you have lived a good life and that you have been, are and will always be loved. Accept the offers of friendship and caring that are extended to you. Don’t be afraid. Just be sure to immerse yourself in happiness and linger just a bit longer.