life

Don’t Worry, I Have a Plan!

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

Fourteen years ago, our grandson was born. My wife took our daughter for her last prenatal visit (she was going to be induced later that week). Our son-in-law was at home with their two-year-old because it was nap time, and this was just supposed to be a routine visit. Mother and daughter decided to have lunch prior to the office visit. During lunch our daughter mentioned that she had had a couple of contractions earlier in the morning, but it was nothing to get excited about. During lunch her contractions started coming again. This time, it was the real deal. They left the restaurant and headed to her appointment. While traveling, our daughter had a few more contractions and couldn’t talk while she was having one. Her contractions started coming every four minutes. She started to feel panicky. She was in active labor, had not packed for the hospital, and her husband was home with their daughter. It was not supposed to happen this way! So, she asked her mother, “What are we going to do?” My wife’s calm response: “Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

She had no plan.

What she had was a calm, steady, and determined response. It would all be ‘okay’, even though my wife had no idea what to expect next. Things moved pretty rapidly, and a routine doctor’s visit evolved into a hurried trip to the hospital. I was dispatched to collect our granddaughter. Our son-in-law raced to the hospital. A few hours later a beautiful baby boy was born. All is well that ends well. And that baby boy has become a young man who blesses my life with each encounter.

This has been a tumultuous week. My preferred presidential candidate lost. My fears about the next four years have kept me awake at night. I’m afraid of the risk of losing our democracy. I’m confused as to why there is so much hate in our country. The moral and political divisions in our country today appear insurmountable. So many Americans are victims of xenophobia, racism, sexism, antisemitism, and homophobia. My prayers for peace and love of my fellow humans are feeble. Hope seems lost.

I have no plan.

Except I keep thinking about the wisdom of the beautiful woman who has chosen to share this life with me. I lean heavily on her words. “Don’t worry, I have a plan.” Her calm, steady, and determined response to the unknown has given me a glimmer of hope. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not sure if I can make any real change in this world. But I will remain calm, steady and determined in my approach.

There might be dark days ahead. There will likely be major disappointments. Rather than being disgusted with half of the voters in our country, I will be respectful. I will work for justice where I can. I will remain committed to the causes that I hold dear. I will love. I will hope.

And on those rainy days, I will pray…

Peace,

Denis

I’ll Give It a Go!

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

“Give it a go” is an expression I heard many times while living in England in 2012. Of course, it’s not too difficult to translate. It means “give it a try” or “take a chance” or “go for it”. My workmates often implored me to “just give it a go” when I felt unsure of myself or a particular situation. Usually, it was when we were in Italy or Germany or Spain working on a project, and my workmates had no more confidence in their ability than I had in mine. I’m still not sure if they were encouraging me or whether they were just afraid to “give it a go” themselves. Manufacturing and construction terms are confusing in Europe (even in English). I learned quickly that hoarding, skips, and trolleys are actually barricades, dumpsters and dollies. Regardless, I usually “gave it a go” and most times things worked out. Perhaps Europeans were bemused by my complete ignorance of permitting, safety and labor requirements in their countries, or they admired my pluck, except the Germans, they clearly seemed annoyed by my ineptitude. Somehow though, I survived the year, and projects were completed, and my workmates had my back (I think).

Because we were in England for most of 2012 several of our friends visited throughout the year. Even with the rigors of working in foreign countries and missing our home, knowing that another visitor would soon be coming to stay for a while sustained us and helped make our time away from home feel like an extended vacation. A highlight was when our daughter, son-in-law and two grandchildren came for a three-week visit. Anna was only four years old, and Noah was not quite two. Adults don’t change much in a year, but oh, those babies…

We made the most of our time with Anna and Noah and their parents during their visit. I was able to take some time off from work and we enjoyed the English countryside. We lived in the Cotswolds, so it was it literally outside our backdoor. In the mornings Anna would watch television and enjoy some of the shows she watched at home, Peppa Pig, Olivia, and some other cartoons all dubbed in British English. We were used to watching British television and had become accustomed to the accents, but we still struggled to understand some phrases.

One day on the third week of their visit we went to a petting farm near our home. On the day that we visited there happened to be a group of preschoolers. Anna nestled in amongst them. When the attendant at the farm asked if any of the children would like to feed a goat, Anna’s little arm shot up in the air as she exclaimed, “I’ll give it a go!” We were all nonplussed. Where had she learned that phrase? I never used it myself. It was something I had heard plenty of times at work but never spoke those words. Had Anna heard it from Olivia or Peppa Pig? We’ll never know. But what we do know is that this precious little four-year-old acclimated to her surroundings in three short weeks. This is something that I had struggled to do for months.

And there’s the lesson. Children learn. Children adapt. Children are not afraid of new adventures. They can lead us to the truth if we can just open our eyes and our hearts and our minds. We can lift up our world by their example if we can get past ourselves and let go of our fears and prejudices. We can accept change. We can embrace our differences and know that our diversity only makes us stronger. And our diversity reflects the true image of God.

Anna taught me so much that day. I can still smell the straw and the goats and lambs. I can still hear her tiny voice, so confident, so capable, so strong. She was undaunted. She knew the right thing to say. And she gave it a go!

Peace,

Denis

Jesus said, “Let the children come to me, and do not prevent them; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14

The Truth, The Whole Truth (and nothing but the truth?)

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

They say honesty is the best policy. I don’t know who “they” are and I’m not always so sure about that honesty policy. Too many times the statement “to tell you the truth…” followed by some unsettling pronouncement has caused pain in my life. Or I hear, “honestly, …” and I mentally glaze over and those little flaps inside my ears slowly close, because I don’t want to receive any honesty at that moment. Sometimes the news has been medical in nature. Sometimes it has been work-related. The worst honesty is the relationship kind. When your loved one tells you that your jokes aren’t funny, but your outfit is. That’s hurtful.

Often it is someone sharing their political or religious “truths”. I have been surprised by some folks need to “educate me” on their particular point of view. This is usually unsolicited. Rarely have I asked for someone to tell me how to vote or what to boycott or where to worship. Still, the desire to influence, recruit, or evangelize is a powerful force in some people’s lives. I had a dear uncle who once said to me, “You’re entitled to your opinion no matter how wrong it is”. That statement was poignant, unsettling, and hilarious all at the same time. I’ve used it many times since.

We humans have an innate desire to share our joy, our sorrow, and our wisdom. This is a good thing. Everyone has a story to tell; a song to sing. Where we veer into trouble is when we believe that our story is the only true story. I’m guilty of this. One of my best friends once said to me, “I just look like this” while I was attempting to instill some wisdom. I was stunned. Her point: you are treating me as if I am ill-informed. You are making assumptions about me because of my sex, race, and age. She was right and that truth hurt. Once again, like my uncle’s statement, I have used hers many times since. It’s can be a showstopper.

Someone recently suggested that I say, “that has not been my experience”, when confronted by someone who holds an opinion opposite of mine. It’s much more tactful than what my brain is usually trying to get my mouth to say. Because “you’re stupid and wrong” might be truthful but it rarely resolves any conflict. In our current political climate, I’m constantly being challenged by statements made at sporting events, social gatherings, family dinners, organizational meetings and from the pulpit.

I am often at odds with people I love and respect. I try to tell them, “That has not been my experience”, or “I just look like this”, but it doesn’t register with the truth-teller. And then with prayer and a little self-examination, I finally look in the mirror and honestly ask myself, how often have I been the dispenser of truths? How often have I been the one who doesn’t listen but needs to share my story? How often have I told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but my truth?

I’m a Partner in Mission (a lay member) with the Sisters of The Most Precious Blood. Our charism is reconciliation. Those are fancy words which mean we are trying to bring peace to our world, to our communities, to our homes and to our hearts. It’s true that sometimes truth hurts. Every husband dreads the fateful question, “Does this dress make me look fat?” No easy answers there. Sometimes truth makes us squirm. Sometimes truth makes us fearful. But sometimes truth can set us free.

Perhaps telling the truth wouldn’t be so hard if I could remember to tell it with sensitivity, compassion and understanding. And to accept it from others even when it hurts.

Peace,

Denis

Judging

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

Often, I think others are being judgmental. I look down on the “judgers”. How dare they make assumptions about me and those whom I love! Who are they to judge? They don’t know my circumstances or beliefs. They don’t know my history. They don’t understand what I find intolerable or what I hold dear. They make their assumptions because of my sex, my age, my race, my marital status, my nationality, my neighborhood, my faith. And it is tiring to constantly have to explain myself. Believe what you will judgers! You haven’t walked my path.

Then I judge. In my heart I know that I do. I judge people by their appearance, their age, the kind of car they drive, the neighborhood they live in, the way they speak and on and on. The very thing that bothers me about others is something that I am constantly doing myself.

It is so easy to think that others are being judgmental without ever looking in the mirror. In our polarized society, it is understandable to embrace an “us versus them” mentality. But it’s wrong. I know that. My heart and my head tell me it’s sinful and shameful to judge others, but I do it anyway. Almost instinctively, I find myself sizing folks up. Do they look like me? Do they speak intelligently? Do they conduct themselves in a manner that I find acceptable? Do they share my beliefs, my goals, my perception of what life should be?

I have a dear friend who once said to me, “I just look like this”. It was a simple and profound statement that declared to the world that she need not fit into anyone else’s expectation of who or what she should be. I love her for that and so much more. And I have used her statement myself. The challenge is to remember that everyone I meet “just looks like this”. I sometimes (okay, almost always) judge the folks on those electric carts in the supermarket and discount stores. Are they really disabled? Or just too big to carry themselves comfortably? Do they abuse the privilege because it’s just easier to cruise through the big box store rather than trek the miles down each aisle on foot? It is shameful, judgmental and ignorant of me. But there I stand judging.

I judge folks when I see them flying flags upside down. I judge people by the bumper stickers on their cars. I judge my neighbors by the way the keep their lawns and gardens. I judge others who declare themselves Pro-Life and Pro-Guns. I judge others who appear too pious. I judge others who seem blasphemous. I judge others who seem slovenly. I judge others who seem to be obsessed with their appearance. I’m kind of an all-purpose judger. And when I point that finger there are four more pointed back at me!

Currently I am experiencing an impinged nerve. And it’s painful. So, I’m limping and moaning and have had to accept much help from others, which I don’t like to do. My wife has been very patient while dealing with my impatience. My son-in-law, one of my heroes, helped get me to a much-needed doctor’s appointment. I probably received some stares from the neighbors as I stumbled around my yard looking inebriated. I’ve likely received some looks of pity or disgust from strangers seeing this old dude walking stiff legged and unsteady. If this pain does anything for me, I hope that it is a reminder that I am too quick to judge others. I know that it is wrong. I realize that it separates me from others for no reason other than my own pride.

Who am I to judge when the One who is judge of all keeps forgiving me? I hope and I pray for empathy. I ask God to help me be more loving and accepting of others. And I ask for forgiveness when I judge again tomorrow.

Peace,

Denis

“Stop judging, that you may not be judged. For as you judge, so will you be judged, and the measure with which you measure will be measured out to you.” Matthew 7:1-2

Not What I Expected

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

When I was a kid, I imagined my life differently. While playing with my ‘Kenner Girder and Panel Building Set’®, I fully expected to become an architect. Dropping out of college did not enhance my dream. I never designed nor built any amazing architectural wonders, but I did work in the building trades and learned on-the-job more than I would have likely learned from textbooks. My careers both in Civil Engineering and Architectural Millwork gave me countless opportunities to work with many talented engineers, architects, and designers. And I usually could hold my own with those who possessed much better degrees and pedigrees. Here I was, just a small-town kid from the Midwest who had once played with building blocks making decisions on million-dollar projects. Of course, along the way I had jobs in retail, worked in factories, delivered catalogs, and any number of other jobs just to keep our heads above water. Those jobs taught me humility and patience, but the ‘Kenner Girder and Panel Building Set’® gave me the desire to build some stuff. And given the chance I did.

In the 1960s I loved James Bond movies and ‘The Man from Uncle’ television series. I often imagined someday being an international man of mystery. I had never traveled outside of the Midwest, but I knew given the chance that I could handle a jet-set lifestyle and move easily from one country to another. Years later I was fortunate enough to live and work abroad. It was international and many days were a mystery mainly because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I wasn’t as dashing as 007 but I witnessed things beyond my comprehension, mastered things I didn’t know I was capable of learning, and I am richer for the experience. My work associates often carried me through, and we remain friends to this day.

Parenthood was always part of my plan. I assumed I would be a dad like the ones I saw on T.V. as a kid. Kind of a cross between Ward Clever, Steven Douglas, and Ozzie Nelson. You know, one of those dads who came home from work (although no one ever really knew what he did), put his feet up, and read the newspaper, waited for dinner, and then solved any problems the kids had. I would wrap everything up neatly in 30 minutes. The reality of parenthood has been much more challenging and rewarding. I changed diapers, gave baths, read bedtime stories and said prayers. Later it was helping with homework, scouting, sporting events and the praying continued especially when teaching teenagers how to drive. Sleepless nights worrying about finances were accompanied by weary days of teenage angst and more prayer. As time marched on so did parenthood. There were graduations, college, military service, marriages and grandchildren. So much to worry about. So much to do. So much to celebrate. Ward Clever never seemed as exhausted as I sometimes felt, but I doubt he ever felt the joy and pride that I have thanked God for each day.

Marriage. I remember those movies where the hero would win the girl. He usually would sweep her off her feet. They might start out as adversaries or at least disinterested parties. Sometimes they couldn’t stand each other until some pivotal moment when they magically “fell in love”. It was often a surprise to both of them. How romantic! And I did fall in love, but not in the magical “I hate you but now I love you” movie way. More in the “I like everything about you” way, but mostly in the “I like me better when I’m with you” way. Our marriage is one of two nearly complete opposites who somehow make each other better every day. I never imagined marriage to be like this. I’m all “hurry-hurry let’s get this done” and she’s all “let’s slow down and smell the flowers.” I’m tall. She’s small. I’m impatient. She’s patient (even after all these years). Through the years we have learned that differences are not detrimental to a successful relationship. In fact, just the opposite. My wife and I complement one another. We fill in each other’s voids. We carry one another when necessary. We pray together. And the yoke is easy, and burden is light.

God has blessed me. My life is not what I had expected. It is more; so much more. Filled with adventure and tedium. Filled will joy and sorrow. Filled with certainty and doubt. Filled with achievement and disappointment. Filled with big moments and quiet times. Filled with friends and loneliness. Filled with laughter and tears. But always, always filled with unexpected love.

Peace,

Denis

Put Me in Coach

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Someone once told me that there are three types of people:

  • People who make things happen.
  • People who watch things happen.
  • And people who say, “What happened?”

Too often I have found myself in that third group. Not even aware of what is going on around me. Perhaps my ‘head in the sand’ attitude is a coping mechanism or maybe I’m just obtuse. Either way, it’s not a great way to live. I try to be aware of what’s going on in my community, my country, my world, but I feel sometimes that I am bombarded with information. And sorting truth from fiction is challenging to say the least. Which news source is reliable? Which social media outlet is trustworthy? Which friends and neighbors are well-informed and honest? At times it seems everyone has an agenda, so I shut down and shut it all out and find myself asking, “What happened?”

Then I spend time with my role models, and I realize I can make things happen. Maybe not grand things or important things, but I can be a positive change in my world. A ripple. A moment. A witness.

My grandson plays baseball. He’s one of the smaller kids on his team. He’s not a power hitter. But he plays with so much heart. He gets out there every game and gives it his all. I was always too timid to play sports as a kid. Fear of injury. Fear of failure. Fear of ridicule. But Noah swings that bat with such determination. He fields, he steals bases, he contributes to his team in a positive way. He’s blessed to have a great coach and equally blessed to have parents who remind him to listen to his coach. He gets better with every trip to the plate. And I am reminded that if Noah makes things happen, I can to!

My granddaughter recently made her First Communion. She worked hard this past year to learn about the sacrament and to prepare herself. She had some apprehension on the day she received. I’m not certain if she was afraid of the pomp and circumstance of the day or if she was not sure about the change she might feel after receiving Jesus for the first time. Was she concerned about a misstep or a forgotten word or gesture? Or was it just that her new shoes were a little slippery and wearing a veil and a fancy dress felt a bit overwhelming? Regardless she made it down the aisle and appeared angelic and lit up the church with her smile. It was accomplished. She was received. And for a moment we all shared in that glimpse of heaven before us. I know if Gwen could overcome her fear, I can to!

When I look at these two, I am reminded of the blessings I have received in this life. I’m not gifted. I’m not wealthy. I’m not terribly bright. But I have the ability to make things happen. In my small way, I can be a force for good. I can do the right thing. I can work for justice by voting for persons of integrity. I can volunteer to help those in greater need than my own. I can listen. I can pray. I can act.

And I’m going to keep swinging that bat and walking down that aisle until I get it right.

Who knows? Maybe someday I can make a ripple; have a moment; be a witness.

Peace,

Denis

Offer It Up

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

When I was a kid, and I had an ache or pain or was dealing with some perceived injustice, my mom would tell me to, “Offer it up for the poor souls in purgatory”. Those weren’t exactly the words of comfort that I was hoping for. Regardless of what she was saying, I often heard, “Suck it up, buttercup.” And I’m not certain that the poor souls in purgatory ever received any relief from my prayers of self-pity.

Mom was probably just tired of hearing complaints from all of us, but she taught me three things with her wisdom: First – pray; prayer always helps. Second – quit whining; nobody likes a bellyacher. Third – There is always someone in this world dealing with more pain than I am/was.

I often still find myself grumbling about something/someone/sometime that I must endure. Some disappointment. Some irritation. Some burden. When I find myself in those situations, I can clearly hear Mom’s voice: “Offer it up!” And I try. And try again. And again.

Usually, it’s my friends on this journey of life who make me realize how ridiculous my bitching and moaning is compared to their circumstances. So, after a few moments (days) of self-pity I remember to pray and thank God for the gifts I have and the witness of these friends with which I am blessed.

A dear friend is recovering from a post-operative infection which has slowed her recovery and sidelined her work life but has not diminished her spirit. An indefatigable young mother who I know is battling cancer. She is the strongest and most positive person I know and is using her own battle as a model for others. A friend of nearly 50 years takes her struggle with MS in stride (literally – as each step is painful) and she continually gives to others until it hurts. These are my heroes.

I needn’t look much further to find other friends, neighbors and acquaintances dealing with any number of challenges. The pain from accidents, illness, violence, unemployment, and grief can be overwhelming and can potentially destroy our spirits. Still, these individuals carry on. They pick up the pieces and make the best of what life has handed them. More heroes.

I know that some pain cannot be prayed or wished away. I realize that none of us can be truly prepared for what the future holds. There will likely be heartache and unbearable sadness but there will also always be a shoulder to lean on. There will always be a hand to hold. There will always be someone to dry your tears. There will always be love.

And perhaps the best way to “offer up” my pain/my disappointment/my bad day is to be the shoulder, the hand holder, tear-dryer, and the lover when I can.

Peace,

Denis

For it is in giving that we receive – Francis of Assisi

I Don’t Want To…

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

I have a plaque in my office that reads, “LOVE GOD. LOVE OTHERS.” Sometimes it brings me great comfort. It reminds me of the friend who gave it to me, which brings a smile to my heart. It helps me remember to be kind. To love.

But honestly, sometimes it annoys me with its sanguine message. Often it challenges me. I don’t want to love others. Most days, I want to be angry, cynical and self-righteous. Love others? Even that obnoxious checker at The Neighborhood Walmart? The kid next door with the diesel truck rumbling at 5:30 AM? The lady at Mass on Sunday who informed me that she didn’t want any children sitting next to her, as I was trying to usher a family to their pew? My political adversaries? The guy at The Home Depot who couldn’t manage to control his dog from getting too friendly with my backside? Bad drivers? I don’t want to love any of those “others”!

As often happens, I stop and realize how foolish I am. As I reflect on my pride and stubbornness and a God who forgives me, I know that I can and must love others, even those annoying so-and-sos. Because many of them have loved me. And God always loves me even when I fail to love in return.

For years we have laughed about the time our grandson Noah, who was three or four years old, didn’t want to wear a collared shirt because in his tearful words, “I don’t want to be fancy!”. He didn’t want to get dressed up for whatever the occasion. He wanted to stay in his play clothes. He didn’t want to be stifled. He wanted to stay in his comfort zone. Getting “fancy” was going to challenge his very existence. You can’t run or throw a ball or tumble on the ground in a collared shirt. Despite his protests, he indeed wore that shirt and somehow, he survived it all. In truth, I would have caved in and let him wear what he wanted but his parents taught him a lesson that day. One that I am struggling to learn.

So today, I will try again to love others. It’s easy to love my family and friends. It’s easy to love those who share my values and my beliefs. It’s easy to love people in need who I see on the news or on social media. They’re distant and untouchable. It’s easy to love people through donations to charitable organizations. I’m shielded from their pain and suffering.

The tough ones to love are the family across the street who don’t keep their yard tidy; the lady who runs the red light; the Congressman who refuses to answer my emails; the person who pushed in front of me at the checkout counter; the family member who I no longer speak to because of political differences; the woman who loudly used profanity in a very crowded public place. And the man that I sometimes see in the mirror.

“I don’t want to…” But I’m trying. Loving others might make me uncomfortable at times. It certainly will push me out of my comfort zone. Loving those with whom I disagree doesn’t mean I have to abandon my beliefs. It might just free me to love more deeply, even if I shed a few tears in the process.

Thanks for the lesson, Noah.

Peace,

Denis

Aging Gracefully (or At Least Trying)

/ Denis Wilhelm / 3 Comments

Society seems to be obsessed with youth. Slogans like ‘Sixty Is the New Forty’ attempt to convince us that we are still young regardless of our age. Afterall, if 60 is the new 40, then 80 should be the new 60 and 100 should be 80. We are bombarded with advertisements for anti-aging lotions, hair dye, vegetable supplements, weight loss programs and Botox injections. Not to mention the medication to improve our memory and hearing aids so we can better hear the commercials informing us about what we need to stay young. Aging is inevitable, so why not do it with grace and dignity. I’m trying…

Of course, one could argue that if 60 is the new 40, then 30 is the new 15, which may explain why our neighbors’ 30-something children, who are still living at home, have failed to launch. I remember that I couldn’t wait to reach the milestone ages of 16 and 21 and 30. Even 40 was fun-ish. I look at my neighbors in amazement and think about my life as a 30-year-old: married, three kids, full-time jobs, mortgage debt and car payments, utilities, school tuition, etc., etc. I wouldn’t trade those hectic (borderline manic) years for anything! We didn’t think much about the future back then. Our life was day to day. We survived and our children thrived. We were never rich, but we were never really poor. Our blessings weren’t monetary. Our riches were friendship, faith and family.

I must admit that my physical aches and pains are more frequent as the clock continues to tick. My hair is white. My waistline is expanding. But I don’t feel much different than I did at 40. I have the luxury of a less hectic life now as I contemplate the future. I’m about a year away from 70 and there was a time when that seemed really old. Now I look at my friends who are in their 80’s and 90’s who have so much left to do; so much more to share. I’m personally waiting for the wisdom which is supposed to come with old age because I have some things to accomplish as well. I suppose I must get older because wisdom continues to elude me.

A dear friend shared this scripture with me recently and I’ll admit we shared a chuckle about the loss of hair color:

Rejoice, O youth, while you are young and let your heart be glad in the days of your youth. Follow the ways of your heart, the vision of your eyes. Yet understand regarding all this that God will bring you to judgment. Banish misery from your heart and remove pain from your body, for youth and black hair are fleeting. Ecclesiastes 11:9-10

Youth is fleeting! Embrace life at all ages; let your heart be glad! Sometimes I see my dad’s reflection in the mirror, and it hits me that I really am a senior citizen. Embracing life at this age can be challenging, banishing misery from my heart and removing pain from my body isn’t that easy.

But here’s my solution: Memories. I have a lifetime of memories. Some are melancholy but most are beautiful. Many are sublime. They carry me to precious moments in time. Seeing my bride walk down the aisle; the smell of sweet baby milk-breath on our infant children; watching with pride and uneasiness as our kids grew up and moved on; holding on to our loved ones as they passed from this world to the next. Those memories sustain me. That’s the beauty and grace of growing older. The older we get the more memories we have. The more memories we have, the more grace we are afforded.

I want my grandchildren to follow the ways of their hearts and the vision of their eyes and to create memories that will last their lifetimes. Recently my wife and I were reminiscing about days gone by and I realized it’s truly a gift that the happy memories make the sad ones tolerable. Gratitude outweighs regret. Love conquers all. I’ll take the wrinkles and the white hair and all the rest as long as they are served up with cherished memories while I have my partner at my side. Right here. Right now.

Peace,

Denis

New Year’s Resolutions and Other Good Intentions

/ Denis Wilhelm / 1 Comment

Another new year: another opportunity to do the right thing. Or the smart thing. Or the better thing. For me, New Year’s resolutions have always been about some kind of self-improvement. What can I fix? What can I organize? What can I accomplish? I always intend to get it fixed, organized, and accomplished, but life gets in the way of my resolutions. And then comes another New Year and another opportunity to get it done. Whatever it is: lose some weight; improve my finances; finish that home project; get all of my legal affairs in order; become more politically active. These are good goals. Achievable goals. Also, there’s a 50/50 chance that I’ll do any of it.

My Mom often used to say, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I think about that now and I sometimes chuckle to myself. What she meant was: get it done; stop talking about it; you’re wasting time with all this deliberating; make it happen! I often share her sentiment.

This year my resolutions are less about getting things done and more about embracing what I have. Not the stuff, but the intangible things. I have been blessed beyond measure with a life partner that makes each day worth living. I have friends and family who celebrate my joys and share my sorrows on this journey of life. But life is messy. Families sometimes fight. Friends can be neglected. Neighbors are ignored. God often takes a backseat in our daily lives. Charity is forgotten. Prayer is an afterthought. I can always find plenty of room for improvement.

I’m hesitant to list my resolutions. Most of them are aspirational. That’s a nice way of saying I probably won’t achieve most of them, but I’ll sure try! It’s an easy way out. But maybe that’s the point. Instead of planning all this self-improvement, instead of talking about what I could, should, would do, I will own who I am. I will be grateful for what I have. I will do what I can do.

I’m going to begin this year by counting my blessings (even the messy ones) and then I’ll go from there.

Peace,

Denis