HOW IT ALL BEGAN

Years ago,  I was having a conversation with my mother about one of our latest dramas going on in our life.  It was a big one.  It was a hard one.  It had happened before but not quite to this degree.  Never for quite this long.  And, "it" was one of those challenges that affected our entire family, so reassuring children and close friends and trying to minimize the severity of what the visible evidence kept revealing proved difficult. Being the actress that I am, I felt I had most of the world fooled as to my daily strugglings (new word - I use these often...).  Keep things light! Don't alter routines.  Throw in an occasional burst of energy, embarrass yourself for a laugh or two from the kids, and life can seem almost normal, even through the biggest crisis.

But, moms still know.  And, my mom knows me - so, the conversation just had to happen.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?"

"I'm good.  Hanging in there."

"Well, I know this is hard."

I was honest with her.  I shared what I could and edited what I felt I should.  It was what it was.  My concerns were more about my kids.  I described their fears.  I told about my average day.  I answered questions about what the future held.  It wasn't exactly a rosy picture.  I was on the verge of getting emotional.

But, as my mouth spoke the rather dismal goings-on of my latest trial, my eyes traveled around the room I was in.  I stood in my kitchen, spacious and modern, with cupboards full of dishes and serving platters and food and Tupperware, the giant refrigerator displaying the latest artistic offerings of my grandchildren, the dishwasher humming, the Kitchenaid mixer waiting to be cleaned from the cookie dough residue it sported every weekend after a Sunday evening with all kinds of friends and family.  I saw the burgeoning mantelpiece in the adjacent family room almost overflowing with an assortment of picture frames housing images of each of our children and their spouses and babies.  Beyond the family room, the trees in the backyard were visible with their fluttering spring green leaves, the play set swings knocking slightly against the playhouse, the gazebo waiting for someone to sit on its benches, the waterfall in the pool providing a birdbath for numerous local sparrows and robins that came every morning to chirp and socialize. I kept scanning and began moving through our home as I chatted, picking up clutter, gathering laundry, straightening pillows and shifting piles of papers in our cozy library from one side of the desk to the other, making sure the bills stayed on top - reminding me that despite the burden they may be to pay, they were further evidence of being blessed with the comforts of life.

There were reminders, of course, of the challenge at hand, but through our abundance of windows at every turn, the sky was still visibly blue, the sun was still shining, my neighbors homes still standing quiet and caring sentinel.  My washing machine still turned on as I filled it with a portion of the never-ending mound of wet pool towels.  Toilets that needed flushing still flushed, lights that needed turning off still burned bright, beds that needed making were still dented from the bodies of people I loved so much who I was still lucky enough to have with me.  The walls everywhere held my favorite art pieces and keepsakes and photos of everything I like best in this world.  A tapestry here, a favorite rug there, a massive treasure from one place here, a tiny little carving from another adventure there, and everywhere - more than a few finger smudges, some large some small - the most precious (though temporary) momentos of all.

And now, back in the kitchen, as the conversation wound down, my eyes fell upon my most cherished earthly possession of all (mind you - I DID say 'earthly').  A plaster relief of the Savior's face, surrounded by an ornate gild frame, has watched over our family activities and calmed the tone of our home for more than 2 decades now.  The likeness is so real that when my youngest daughter first saw it, she cried when she found out it wasn't real.  It is beautiful.  Just as beautiful are the words carved beneath it - a paraphrase of the scripture from Matthew 11:29: "Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart...and ye shall find rest unto your souls."  And I realized that, because of Him, and the way in which He pulls my burden if I DO yoke myself to Him, I had rest, I had peace, I was doing fine, even through this current storm.

"Lisa, I am so sorry for what you have to go through right now.  I don't see how you do it.  Even when I call to cheer you up, you end up making me laugh.  Most people would think their glass is half empty right now, but you always manage to sound like yours is half full."

It was then that it dawned on me.  And I meant every word: "Mom, it is half full. And not only is the glass half full, it's a very pretty glass."

My mother has brought up our conversation many times in the years since then.  I and my family weathered that particular storm as we had those before it, only to replace it with several others.  But, I truly feel that way each time.  Despite what happens to us and around us, despite what fills or doesn't quite fill our glass, the glass can still be beautiful.  It doesn't have to be ornate, it can be ordinary.  It doesn't have to be carved, it can be clean.  It doesn't have to be huge, it can be humble.  We can still enjoy the part that's filled and cherish the fact that there is something to hold what's there.  And, as we see the glasses that others may carry with their various chips and smudges and wear and tear, or perhaps on occasion, what seems to be the absence of any glass at all, we often realize that our 'glass' may not be so ugly or empty as it had once seemed to be.

Hence, my musings about life in MY glass - the bitter with the sweet, the silly with the sober, the insignificant with the inspiring.  Hopefully, you'll feel free to share your musings as well.

Here's to Life in a Pretty Glass!!