Monday, December 3, 2012


I stood out on my patio tonight, listening to very little sound, a few leaves rustling with the gentle breeze, in this very warm weather Dallas has been having of late.
I live close enough to the airport that I can always see a few planes going by at any given time of day, and then of course at night I can really see them. It appears that they are flying fairly slow, drawing a line of lights as they ease across my view. But I live just far enough from the airport, that unless they are flying right above me, I can hear no sound.
I was thinking that it looked like the beginning of a movie, no sound, but you see the plane coming in for landing, all lit up so they can be seen as they fly in. I often wonder, who is on the plane, and are they coming home? Or are they visiting family, or coming to the Lone Star State for work? All of those stories, on one plane. It would probably take a while to interview the passengers and write down their words on paper.


Patio time, with night sky-watching, always brings deeper thoughts than what I normally have during the day. The world is so vast, so populated, but yet we all share the same moon, and the same sun, and the same constellations. There are probably many people doing the same thing  I am doing, looking up at that night sky, searching for the Big Dipper. But not everywhere. In Paris, it's almost four o'clock in the morning, for example. (It's also 42 degrees there right now, but I won't whine about them being able to have winter weather, while I have the air conditioning turned on). No, really.

Many of us wonder how we matter in this big world that we live in.

I've come to find that we do matter, and not just in our little corners of the world. We might write a few words, or say a few things, to people across the globe, that totally changes their day. My friends and family in Missouri always think of me when the leaves start to burst with those gorgeous Fall colors, because they know it's my favorite season. I'm not always there, but they think of me anyway.

And of course, they think of me when their forecast has snow in it, especially given that I'm not sure that N. Texas will have the kind of winter that I like so much, this year.

During the holiday season, I notice a gentler side to people as a whole. I know it can be a hard time for some. They may not have family around, or have had hard times recently. My wish is, and always has been, that there will be a gift of some kind bestowed on them when they least expect it. It may not be the kind that's wrapped in colorful shiny paper, topped with a big bow. It could be something simple, like a friend calling them to chat, or to have them over for dinner. These small gestures are how we matter.

Giving to our favorite charities, whether it be time or money, is how we matter. Helping a friend, or a co-worker through a rough time, is how we matter. Giving the usually chatty, elderly neighbor, a few extra minutes of our time, even when we're in a hurry, is how we matter.

I encourage all of us to find ways to help those in need this holiday season. Trust me, you will get more out of it than the receiver.

See you soon friend,

PS Breakfast has returned to the patio in the mornings. I might as well enjoy the warm spring-like weather while it's here, yes?


Serenity said...

I love to think about other people living their stories while I am living mine. It's nice, every now and then, to realize my moments are not the only ones that count, that I am in fact NOT the center of the universe and my problems aren't really all that powerful in the scheme of things. I have a nasty ol' sinus infection right now, so I'll take some chicken soup on that patio, please.

Tiffany said...

Are you kidding, I would LOVE to serve you chicken soup on the patio! I love that thought, that our problems really aren't that powerful. I don't ever want to warrant mine a second glance =) (feel better soon my friend)

mike valasek said...

My book "A Tender Kiss Lights the Soul" is free on Amazon(ebook). It's an homage to breakfast at Tiffany's