Mom has sent us both an envelope of newspaper clippings.
Ah...the newspaper clippings. A thing my mom does. A thing that throughout all these decades I haven't thought much about.
Until 4 AM this past Saturday morning.
The envelope had arrived, but I had not time to take a look into it, beyond a quick call to my mom to tell her I received it and the gift card she sent for my birthday.
But at 4 AM something new entered my mind. This is a packet I might want to keep.
You see, my mom reads the daily paper, and as she reads, she clips out articles and cartoons and things she thinks we will enjoy. She does it for all her children.
Much like we forward items on Facebook. Same thing, right?
Now, many people know my mother has had a newspaper hoarding problem for many years, one that drives us all crazy. This is probably one of the reason the envelope of newspaper clippings always seemed like just one more obsession.
But at 4 AM on Saturday morning, I suddenly had a new thought. Someday, those envelopes will not be arriving any more. In her own small way, she is showing me she is thinking of me. I made up my mind right then I would keep this envelope of clippings, no matter what was in it. She is going to be 86 in November. There is no guarantee that another one will ever arrive. And I thought more about the fact that she gathers these up, addresses the envelope, drives to the post office, waits in line, pays to have it mailed, and drives home.
This is no small effort.
This afternoon I opened it up, and started to pull out the articles and holy cards and other variety of printed papers she sent. The first article caught my attention right away: it was a feature story on the importance of a record store in Cleveland called Record Rendezvous that closed in 1987. It was the people connected to the store that initiated the conversation to get the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, an idea people thought was nuts. There were other articles about important musical sites in the Cleveland area. There was a fabulous article on the 50 year history of Blossom Music Center, the outdoor venue where I saw many concerts, including Lilith Fair and James Taylor multiple times, always opening his show with "Blossom." She included a columnist's memories of the music of Steely Dan. I didn't even know my mom knew who Steely Dan was.
And there were more things of interest. A story of a teacher who has his 9th graders memorize poetry. An iconic tree that has been in Lakewood since the 1700's that finally had to be taken down. An article about new land being purchased as part of the beautiful park system known as the Metroparks. Student protests from last spring. And the requisite holy cards from all the funerals she has attended.
But most curiously, she sent without any information, a very small photo of my dad, the kind that would be in a yearbook. He is very young in this photo - late teens or early 20's. The paper is cardstock, so I have no idea where she extracted it from.
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| This photo larger than the actual picture. |
I was wholly delighted with this packet -- so much so, I wrote her a thank you card. I've never done that before with the newspaper clipping packet!
What has made the difference? Well, I suppose it could be her age. But I don't think that is it.
I think it's Homework for Life I learned from educator and storyteller Matthew Dicks.
Ever since July 8th, I have taken a couple minutes a day to write down at least one that is important, or story worthy, or perhaps part of a larger story. Sometimes it is a memory that pops up. Sometimes I don't remember to do it to the next day, but I haven't missed identifying at least one thing each day for nearly two months. What I have noticed with this process is that I am "seeing" things much more clearly: what's happening around me, but more importantly, what is happening inside me physically and emotionally.
I had heard it would make you "see the air." I believe that is true.
Because the air all around me for years has been my mother's love arriving in an envelope of clippings sometimes nearly a year old. It has fallen into my lap and I never really noticed until this time.
At 4 AM something spoke to me. Something spoke because I have been listening, and I've allowed the space for it to get through. And when the message arrives, I honor it.
I have labeled my recent envelope with today's date and why I've decided to keep it. I will store it in the bottom drawer of my nightstand. The articles inside, chosen just for me, will be worth revisiting. Was this packet better than the others? Maybe. But I don't really know because I've never paid attention like this before.
It is truly amazing how such small things add up so quickly into something that can fill your heart in ways you never expected -- especially after years of neglecting their very existence. I feel gratitude, wholeness, and a new way of being present to love in my life.
And if that isn't the definition of Joy, I don't know what is.
In case you've missed it.
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