2016 Bucket List

It's the first week of 2016 and I'm filled with excitement. I have a shiny new bucket list:

• Design, develop and deliver courses, workshops and retreats that help people make sense of their lives. 
• Practice what I preach by reflecting on my own life journey, releasing what no longer serves me and unleashing my passions at full throttle. 
• Explore the simplicity and complexity of the craft of writing to find my sweet spot - that creative, blissful place where I can let the words flow. Sometimes effortlessly, sometimes not.
• Reacquaint my body to mindful movement by exploring the residential streets of my small town neighborhood.
• Cook on a daily basis, creating meals that feed my soul and nourish my body.
• Love Ronnie and Matthew with the fullness and tenderness of my heart. 
• Enjoy the company of my women friends, feeling their support and giving them  mine.

I will live 2016 with intention and not be caught up in the mindless, objectifying prejudice flooding our communities. I will take care of my place in the world by turning away from the vicous hate being spewed by toxic tongues and practicing the gentleness of human kindness.

What's on your 2016 bucket list? 

Jazz and Trixie

Our family dog Jazz died yesterday. She was my son's constant companion. I rescued her, but she rescued Matthew when he came home after a heartbreaking divorce. She was both adorable and adoring. Devoted and loving and playful and fun and loyal and fiesty and protective and.... The list is endless.

Every once in a while a dog will select one person, pick him or her out of a crowd or in a family, and choose to be that person's constant companion. Jazz did that with Matthew.

I was blessed with a dog like that, too. I got her at the city pound for Matthew's birthday. He was leaving for college at Texas Tech, and I thought he'd need the company.

I had to get into the dog cage with her, she was so withdrawn and scared. I remember filling out a 3-page adoption application and going through an intimidating interview. My friend Lee Orrell was with me and he vouched for my character, telling the interviewer, "Ma'am, that dog is gonna think she died and went to heaven after she gets home with Joyce."

When my son came home with a few guy friends that afternoon, the dog backed herself under the table and barked and barked and barked. It became obvious she had a problem with men, possibly the result of neglect and abuse. Matt summed up the situation and told me, "This is not my dog, Mother, she's yours." And he was right. Turned out, I was the one who needed the company, and somehow she sensed that.

She was an Australian shepherd-terrier mix, and I named her Trixie. She was the best pet I ever had. She listened to my whining without ever giving advice, she took me for walks every day, and she never lectured me for eating Blue Bell at midnight--even let me share. She was crazy for a toy duck that went "Quack-Quack" when she bit into it just right. She'd shake it, toss it, chase it, and bite into it again.

She loved to sleep in my bed, loved to eat food from the table, loved to sit on the couch next to me, loved to have her tummy rubbed. Most of all, she loved me. Completely.

Trixie is dead now, has been for six years, but her spirit still feeds me. That's the gift you get from a dog who chooses you. That's the gift Matthew received from Jazz. Unconditonal love.

Father's Day Thoughts

One-half gallon of pistachio ice cream has always been a staple in my freezer for the three months that Blue Bell makes it. Pistachio was my father's favorite. He introduced it to me at Howard Johnson's on a family trip to Houston. I was a child--probably 10 years old and in the third grade--but I remember clearly how grown up it tasted. Crunchy, exotic.

For the 19 years since his death, I reached for the green carton of Blue Bell when pistachio came in season. I would spoon the ice cream in my mouth and savor the sweet, sweet memory of my daddy. Most times I could delight in 1/2 cup, but occasionally I was so lonely for him that I'd gorge in the entire carton till I was sugar drunk and had to sleep it off.

I miss my daddy, especially today; it's Father's Day. But ice cream is not on the menu. Instead, I let my heart ache as his memory washes over me. No need to anesthetize my feelings and let them get stuck and cripple me. Instead, I focus on my son and how much of my father's best qualities he carries. Matthew is creative and kind and loving and intelligent and compassionate and adventuresome. Irish-American blood runs deep currents of steadfastness in the souls of its ancestry. My father has left this world and yet the best parts of him still live within and through his grandson.

I am blessed.

Church Street Retreat

Yesterday marked the inauguration of my writing retreat in Navasota. The Church Street Retreat house opened its doors to nine women who drove from Houston to write about "Life Matters," which was the theme for the day.

We had a grand day writing out bucket lists of the future plans, dreams and aspirations we have while we listened to a MP3 of Tim McGraw singing "Live Like You're Dying." The exercise helped us focus on what's really important to each of us at this stage of our lives and put us in the right frame of mind to compose legacy letters.

Legacy letters are similar to ethical wills, except ethical wills are usually kept with people's last will & testament and read after their death. People leave their material things in a last will & testament, and they leave their wisdom and values in an ethical will.

My sweetie's mother left an ethical will to her children in which she told them to prepare for heaven and the rapture by reading and living by the Word. She wrote that she loved each of them dearly and that she would see them again in the next life. A gold framed copy of that ethical will sits on the mantle in our living room.

A legacy letter, on the the hand, is one that you write and present to someone important in your life. It is one that expresses your love for that person as well as the insights you've had about life, thus far in your life (because you can write a legacy letter at any time in your life, not just toward the end of your life). For example, you could write a letter to your grandson as he is graduating from high school and traveling to another city, maybe even another state halfway across the country. You could share with him what you know now in your 50s or 60s that you wish you'd known when you were his age going off to college. Words to the wise, right?

My 40-year-old son Matthew earlier this year wrote me a letter that could easily fit the category of legacy letter. Being a modern day man, he emailed the letter rather than handwriting it, but I promise you, it is the most treasured gift he has ever given me.

The nine women yesterday wrote heart-warming letters, too. If you are one of the recipients, you will be exceedingly blessed by receiving one. If not, perhaps you can write one to someone you love or admire. In fact, if you will send me your email, I'll send you an outline for a legacy letter to get you started.

In the meanwhile, a heartfelt thank you to Carol,  Diane, Dixie, Gayla, Imelda, Lil, Nancy, MaryLynn and Wynell for making this first writing retreat so remarkable.


What's on your bucket list?