Lessons from a room with a view:

Finding gratitude in life's simple moments

There’s a lot of talk about gratitude. It has become a buzzword that many of us use as a means of keeping ourselves in check while navigating busy, sometimes difficult lives. Advice for finding it is abundant, and it can seem like it’s more of an industry than a state of being.

Merriam-Webster defines gratitude simply as “the state of being grateful: thankfulness,” but what does that mean as we strive to put into practice what gurus, authors, mental health counselors, clergy, and the person you might chat with in the grocery store suggest?

Some of us practice tangible acts that we prove we are grateful, such as scribbling thoughts on paper, carefully folding them, depositing them into a jar, then opening them a year later. The plan is to reflect, appreciate, and track our growth toward a state of gratitude.

Others use apps, books, or podcasts. Like most everything, the pursuit of gratitude is also a business.

I have a business – a new one teaching memoir writing online to students locally and throughout the world. I launched it in less than 6 months after learning how to create the course assets, navigate new technology, beef up my website, nurture an audience of potential students, and overcome the imposter syndrome that can creep in when you embark on something new that many are already doing with wild success.

Here are just a few reasons I’m grateful today, less than 2 weeks after launching Make Memoir Magic:

·    My students – who believe in me and want to learn from me. I’m immensely proud of their bravery, and their decision to invest in themselves and their writing careers.

·    My husband – for supporting this dream of mine. We’ve always supported each other – truly, we have – but launching a business before earning a dime is a big lift.

·    The author and reader community, local, online, and abroad, who have been generous with support by sharing posts, collaborating, and reviewing my book, Accidental First Lady.

·    My health, which allows me to take on a new venture like this. More on that later…

Those are some big reasons right there, but just as eating healthy, exercising regularly, and getting enough sleep are rituals I try to sustain, I also intentionally practice gratitude.

I see it in the simple pleasures, like my very own room with a view in my office - 5-foot-wide, looking out onto a small lake ripe with ibis, wood storks, ducks, herons, turtles, and the occasional bald eagle. The white lattice bird feeder that I keep stocked with safflower attracts beautiful cardinals, finches, blue jays, and doves.

I know they’re grateful for the steady supply of sustenance, and that that choice of seed keeps the greedy squirrels away.

I’ve been working from home since October 2019, when I had life-saving surgery to remove the cancer that threatened my life. At a routine visit to my general practitioner months after surgery, she proclaimed, “They gutted you!” Not my choice of words, but still, I’m grateful. The ovarian and uterine cancers I had necessitated the need for chemotherapy and radiation. Out of an abundance of caution, and the desire to remain as healthy as possible throughout treatment, I requested to work from home.

Without hesitation, my boss agreed. A few months later, the Covid-19 pandemic meant that most of us who were not frontline workers set up home offices and become proficient at Zoom.

I don’t need a jar, book, or pep talk to tell me how to be grateful, but I can recognize that sometimes life makes it hard to summon what can seem elusive, that sometimes-Pollyana-ish state of being we call “grateful.”

But back to my window, my birds, and the view of my little Lake Disston and the neighborhood we’ve lived in for almost 30 years. We raised our kids around the lake, first pushing them in strollers, then holding tiny hands so they could practice tentative first steps on the red Augusta brick roads.

Scenes of my husband holding the back of their bicycle seats, steadying them as they rode off into independence to view for themselves the mallards, ibises, Canadian geese, wood storks I taught them all about are just a few memories I’m grateful for.

I never tire of this room with a view. Thankfully, I’m focused and productive because this window could be detrimental to those with daydreaming tendencies. When I hear a UPS or FedEx truck barreling down the road, my focus shifts to check whether they’re stopping at our house, and whether they’ll ring the doorbell and wake our sleeping Labradors, Jake and Christie.

For about 2 years, it wasn’t only delivery drivers or speed demons cutting through the neighborhood that interrupted my work-from-home vibe.

The red, flashing lights and sirens were frequent visitors to a home across the lake. Every time they stopped, I’d say a silent prayer that the E.M.T.’s didn’t have to open the stretcher and bring someone out. Most of the time, they emerged with only their medical bags and a folded stretcher.

---

---

I soon learned that the ambulance was for my neighbor Jean’s husband. We met on a walk around the lake. Jean told me she was grateful to still have her husband close at the assisted living facility two blocks away, even if they could no longer live together.

During our talk, Jean mentioned my cancer. I’m not sure how she knew, and it doesn’t matter. What struck me was that as her husband was in the final stages of his life, she insisted on wanting to know how I was doing, even though my hair had grown back and there were no visible signs I’d ever had chemotherapy or cancer.

After Jean’s husband died, I must’ve brought her an orchid and a sympathy card. We didn’t know each other that well, but who doesn’t appreciate the gesture of a sentiment and a beautiful plant.

Two years later, Jean showed up at our front door on a Sunday afternoon, I’d forgotten about the gift I’d given her, but she didn’t. I’d only recently learned that Jean was a renowned watercolor artist, who at almost 90, was still teaching aspiring artists. The pink gift bag burst with colorful tissue paper. Inside was a heartfelt thank you note for the orchid I’ve given her after her husband died, and an 8”x8” painting of pink flowers bursting off a white canvas.

We tend to focus on the present, live for the future, and worry about tomorrow. Sometimes, we forget to savor the moments – and the people - that comprise a full life.

Later that day, I glimpsed the new silver Wilton pan with 6 cut-outs for mini-Bundt cakes. It had been sitting on my counter for a week. The 4 browning bananas in the pantry would be lost to the composter if I didn’t use them soon. Two hours later, I had 12 mini-Bundt cakes. I started assigning homes for these sweets. A former neighbor and family friend, Gary, whose girls I used to babysit for, had recently had open heart surgery. He would get to enjoy some banana bread after getting the okay from his medical team.

His wife, Katie, would get one, too. Medical crises are just as hard for the caregiver. Two more would go to my mom and cousin.

Neighbor Julia, who occasionally sends me a Facebook message, asking if I’m home, because she just made banana bread, was getting one. I reserved a few for my husband to distribute at his office. We kept two. And the final one? It went to Jean, my sweet neighbor.