WHERE WERE YOU?

 

A series of essays….

FLIGHT PATHS OF THE FOUR PLANES USED ON SEPTEMBER 11, 2001

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

The day began, like so many others, with waking-up and getting ready to drive to work. The Florida sun was already raising the outside temperature on this Tuesday, September 11, 2001, and all I could think about was celebrating our wedding anniversary on Saturday. Fortunately, work was something that would fill most of my time until then.

“Good morning, Sandy. What goodies did you bring in for us this morning?”

“Good morning!” her smile radiating throughout the reception hall. “One of your favorites today. Go and see for yourself. They’re back in the break room.”

Walking by several other office spaces that were waiting to be awakened by their daily occupants, I entered my own, flicked on the light, walked around the desk to place my purse in the lower, left-hand drawer before turning on my computer for the day. The tightly wound rolls of house and condominium blueprints were standing upright in boxes along my office wall and reminded me of small children waiting in line for a movie or treats. A portion of my job description at Landstar Homes was to compile all essential paperwork, blueprints and fees, and submit them to local County personnel in order to acquire the legal permits that would move us forward with each structure to be built. 

Coffee was an essential part of my morning ritual and Sandy was a gem at having a fresh pot ready before eight o’clock in the break room located just down the hall from my door. She designated Tuesdays to be her ‘made from scratch’ baked treats day and believe me, her talent never went unappreciated. 

Grabbing my mug from the dishwasher, I turned to see Chris Johnson, my supervisor, slip through the door at around 7:50 AM, according to the large clock hanging on the wall. “Hi, Jackie,” he said. “Really need my coffee right now. I have a feeling it’s going to be a very long day.” 

“Good Morning, Chris. Are we still on for our 10:00 conference call? Go ahead and pour yours. I’ll be right behind you,” I said.

“Yes, 10:00, in the conference room. Oh, I’d better grab one of these before they’re all gone. Sandy outdoes herself every week, doesn’t she?”

Before I could turn to see what they were, I was filling my mug as other co-workers, bleary eyed and zombielike, entered the small room just as Chris was leaving it. ‘Good Mornings’ were exchanged all around as Lisa, our Spanish speaking coordinator and customer service liaison, switched on the small television to catch-up on the news. Pounding the top of it with her closed fist she exclaimed, “This thing is almost a goner. Look at the picture, it’s all fuzzy and green. Well, at least we can hear the news, I suppose.” 

Why even have a television in here in the first place, I often thought. Especially one that turns humans into the Hulk walking around in a snowstorm! The break room was too small for it, anyway.

Luckily, through gesturing arms and the aroma of freshly toasted bread, I spied Sandy’s tray with three pieces of blueberry cheesecake bars left on it. Better move fast, I thought. Moments later, I was walking back to my office with my treasures in hand and happy as a child who, finally, received her treat after standing in line for so long.

Consumed by my work, I barely noticed the time slipping away. I had my notes ready for the conference call and didn’t think much about anything else other than my permit packages that needed to be completed and taken over to the County offices later in the afternoon.

Looking at the time on the top of my computer screen, I marveled at how an hour could fly by without even realizing it. That’s when I heard the commotion coming from down the hall. Doors were being flung open, feet were scurrying from all directions down the carpeted hallways, and subtle gasps emanated from the direction of the little break room. I was thinking that someone had just turned-up the volume of that poor, broken, little TV and I should close my door in order to shut out the sound. 

Someone shouted, “Everyone get in here! You won’t believe this!” Another voice cried out, “This can’t be real. It has to be a joke or a prank made for TV. But listen, that’s Tom Brokaw speaking, I think!”  “Damn this old piece of s—t,” declared someone in earnest. 

Terry in Accounting stuck her head in my doorway, saw me still sitting there, and proclaimed, “You’d better come right now and see this for yourself. It’s difficult to make any sense out of it…”

By the time my feet caught up with my thumping heart, it was fairly obvious that our little break room was not meant for occupancy by the entire office staff! I squeezed through in order to see the small screen before deciphering what was being said by Mr. Brokaw and other reporters. I realized that everything and everybody was in a state of chaos as blurry scenes of a jet airliner repeatedly flew into a tall tower of concrete with multiple windows. Even Mr. Brokaw was losing his cool which struck me as even stranger than the looped scene before me. 

ALMOST TWENTY YEARS AGO— 

AFTER INNOCENCE AND NAIVE THOUGHTS WERE SWEPT
AWAY ON THAT FATEFUL DAY IN SEPTEMBER, 2001

Every soul in that little room was in shock and/or disbelief. It took quite some time before many of us could even grasp the concept of what was happening in real time in New York City. The frustration of not being able to see everything clearly on that damn little screen, only compounded matters. So many questions floated among us while watching this scene that, I know, was being viewed all around the world by this time — whether the people were just waking up or had been up for hours. 

“What a horrible accident!” and “Oh, those poor, poor people!” Echoed sentiments from inside the room. Like many others, I’m sure, we felt that this was a huge mistake or a mechanical error of some kind. It’s amazing how, only twenty years ago, our innocence, naivety, and thoughts of anyone attacking our precious land literally blinded us from the truth…

…until someone yelled, “Oh, My God,” as a second plane crashed into the South Tower of the World Trade Center. I looked up at the clock. It was 9:03 AM. 

By this time, some of us were holding hands and openly crying. 

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Pete Gallagher, our development manager, yelled from out in the hall. By the look of shock on our faces, he knew better than to expect a calm answer.

We all huddled together throughout most of the morning; supporting one another and taking turns running back into offices to make phone calls to loved ones and friends and asking, “Do you see what’s happening? Are you okay?” No one asked us to disperse. Nothing was expected of us. Morning conference calls were canceled and eventually rescheduled. 

By 9:37 AM, another plane crashes into the western side of The Pentagon. Little did we know that yet another plane had been hijacked over Ohio and was told to turn around and head for Washington D.C. or that the civilians aboard this flight would revolt against the hijackers in an attempt to take back the plane. This plane crashes into a field 80 miles southeast of Pittsburgh shortly after 10:00 AM. We did not know at the time that the brave souls aboard that flight who resisted the hijackers and forced them to abort it, may have saved either our Capitol Building or the White House, as well as many thousands of innocent lives due to their heroism. 

Were we even hungry for lunch by noontime? No, but we were starving for conversation and being able to express our feelings after one of the most horrific mornings experienced in our lifetime. 

Living nearby two major international airports in and around Orlando always offers views of planes taking-off or landing from almost anywhere you stand outside. Loving airplanes as I do, this was a treat for living in such a busy metropolis that is interconnected to every compass point in the world. 

By 9:45 AM the United States airspace is shut down and all operating aircraft are ordered to land at the nearest airport.

Walking outside our office building was like entering a vacuum; an apocalyptic nightmare. The sky was void of the silver beauties that usually swept over our heads. It was eerily still and quiet among the fluffy clouds and brilliant blue sky above us. We instinctively knew that the comforting feeling of normalcy was going to be lost for a very, very long time.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

REMINDERS

 

A series of essays….

THESE ROCKS TALK TO ME. THEY TIE ME TO PLACES I’VE BEEN
TO AND REMIND ME OF THE JOY I FELT BEING THERE!

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Small testimonies of life lived and places visited with people we love crackle all over the house. Like Pop Rocks candy on your tongue, small explosions of reminders burst from the walls, cabinets, and shelves; physical proof of having shared time and space within a world other than the framework we call our home. 

I collect rocks. Oh, I’ve been known to accumulate many other collectibles, but I really like bringing a rock home from every trip I’ve taken. It’s as though its physical presence will tie me to the places I’ve been — forever, in time. If I label them immediately, remembering is simple and straightforward. If not, somehow the dense warmth of each stone placed in my hands reminds me of where it was extracted from and I smile in genuine appreciation. 

The rocks talk to me. They relate to the draw and pull that helped me select them from all of the others in the first place. Each one breathes life back into a place where my footprints gathered on a sandy shore, traversed an earthen path forged from the floor of a tree lined forest, or struggled to climb up a mountainside with ancient rock ledges forming natural stepping stones up to the clouds! 

Apart from souvenirs that conjure memories of our past experiences, the passing of time marks the anniversary of these adventures we observe as sacred, new, or worth noting. Like a child experiencing snow for the first time, the loneliness we may experience after the loss of a spouse or a good friend, or living through a new episode of life as we have recently observed by the ending of the war in Afghanistan after twenty years of conflict with Al-Qaeda and the Taliban.

Now that we’ve entered this new month, September reminds me of wedding anniversaries; my own, as well as those of good friends with whom we are bound together like colorful satan ribbons encasing flower stems held by a bride on her special day. 

Many say that sharing a fine meal together is a powerful experience that tightens the bonds between mere acquaintances and good friendships. I will always believe that the way into someone’s heart is sharing good food and drink, laughs and reminiscences, and the simplicity of spending time together as we create the memories we will cherish years from now.

Having recently spent several days with good friends at their beautiful home sharing recipes and indulging in fine wines and spirits, it is true what they say about this being a powerful and memorable experience. Mike and Elaine, along with their Chocolate Labrador puppy named Peyton, welcomed us with the generosity of spirit and hospitality of kind people who truly care about having fun while creating lasting memories. 

In lieu of spending three nights in Chicago together, opting not to venture out into a Delta Variant landscape and the chance of multiple restrictions placed on restaurants and Blues clubs, we canceled all of our reservations there for last week. Instead, we were graciously invited to experience Giordano's stuffed Chicago Deep Dish Pizza sent frozen to their door, aged steak four inches thick, and various libations at their home. One word: Excellent! Peyton supplied the energy while trips around the lake on their pontoon boat provided much needed relaxation. New memories were made offering potent reminders of friendship and good times.

Reminding ourselves of highly pleasurable or exciting experiences can help to ease the pain and recollection of unpleasant ones. At the same time, retaining numerous mementos of sad times and the people we have lost along our journey in life can prevent us from moving on and adapting to a more positive outlook heading into the future. Being human with all of the emotions attached to it creates a fine line between adapting to loss and pushing upwards into more palatable experiences beyond the sorrow.

As I sit here writing I am listening to Dan hammering on the new cedar siding he’s installing right outside my window. The fresh cut cedar panels smell warm and soothing as he measures and then cuts them to size; toasted liquid cedar is how I would describe the aroma as it gently wafts into our cottage. With each nail driven into the new wood, life settles into a slow motion dance that reminds me that slowly but surely the remodeling is being completed. With each new day and every side-step and waltz move, our dreams are reaching fruition — just as we’d hoped they would a few years ago. 

These subtle reminders of a life well lived surround and comfort me as we will soon celebrate forty-eight years as a married couple. How I remember thinking that just being forty-eight years old was such an accomplishment! Now, when he brings me a steaming mug of coffee in the morning and gently sets it down near my i-Pad as I work, I am grateful for the kindness that this simple act of love expresses.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

THE FLEXIBILITY OF DAYDREAMING

 

A series of essays….

ALWAYS BE ENCOURAGED
TO KEEP SWINGING HIGH UP INTO THE SKY!

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Sitting on the deck, I was staring out into the distance while waiting to pick up our grandson for basketball practice. A cool breeze began to penetrate the warm, lazy Sunday afternoon. At about the same time, the younger of the two sisters living next door could barely be seen skipping through the openings of the massive broadleaved trees that separate and permeate our two backyards.

Before I could see her in motion, I could hear her on one of the chain swings her parents had installed under the branches of a sturdy oak tree years ago. In the time that we’ve owned our property, over six years now, I will always remember the sounds of those swings. With their eleven gauge pipe top rail and pipe beam swing hangers and clevis pendulums rusting a little bit more each year, I have taken comfort in them for all of this time. 

By the time she reached just the right height, it was a rhythm of one long screech going backwards, one long screech going forward until she reached the pinnacle of her forward motion and the sound became a short series of heavy clangs, metal pipe on pipe type of clangs, until she floated backwards into one, long screech again. The repetitive sounds were mesmerizing.

Our little chant has always been, “WD-40 that thing!” But, we always knew how disappointed we would be if they ever did.

Every child earns the right to engage in this hypnotic state of floating in the air powered and strengthened by their own muscles and body movements. This offers them a chance at dreaming, hoping, plotting, and planning without any interruptions; without a care in the world. And, I’m pretty certain that the steady rhythm of clangs and screeches attributes to this spellbinding state of mind.

This seemingly mindless state of being while swinging aloft, then smoothly transitioning to a backwards momentum, and repeat, could be envied by most adults. If memory serves me well, I did a lot of thinking up there myself, legs bending backwards and forwards, pumping hard as I’d climb higher and higher on the sturdy metal swing set until I felt the momentum would take me up and over the top bar. If this happened, I thought I would either be flung from the wooden seat entirely, or the centrifugal force would keep me seated and able to swing for minutes longer until I was brave enough to do it again! Of course — I never tested these theories out.

Holding onto the chains for dear life, impressing metal links into small palms, my white canvas sneakers, the little blue ‘Keds’ label flapping from their rubber heals,  would push into the fluffy, white clouds and blue summer sky with each upward swing. On the backwards swing, their gum soles would gently graze the indented ground, the gray gash formed by innumerable sets of small, braking feet. Once stopped, they would fly off with friends to the waiting seesaw, roundabout (merry-go-round), jungle gym, or hot metal slides to play.

Eventually, as a young parent, I learned never to underestimate the intelligence of a child. My own daughters played hard, learned quickly, and never failed to surprise us by soaking in the enormity of the complex world they lived in. Thinking back on the many times they spent swinging back and forth, eyes affixed to the sky, how the daydreams must have flowed within their subconscious world lulled by the clouds, birds singing, and repetitive movement.

Utilizing the solace the swing provided, I recall plotting all sorts of ideas regarding my future plans. I would become a ‘stewardess’ because of my desire to travel. (I had applied to United Airlines soon after my eighteen birthday.) Maybe the religious life was calling me and I’d become a missionary nun, clad in a white habit, and travel into the far corners of the world in order to help others. (That travel theme again!) What will my new friends be like after we moved from Terre Haute, Indiana, up to Three Rivers, Michigan? Maybe I will become a writer in the style of Ernest Hemingway and live my life telling stories to others about what I see and feel everywhere I go. I should become a photojournalist!

Would I ever be married? At the time, I didn’t think so because the life I foresaw for myself was going to be so busy and justifiably fulfilling in and of itself. I had a lot to accomplish and, I felt, very little time to do it all in. 

Holding my own daughters in my arms for the first time convinced me that I truly had taken the right path in this life. I had so much to offer them; the love of travel, reading books, making-up stories, and writing poetry among them.  But, most of all, we allowed them to swing into the clouds themselves and discover who they were and how they would fit into this world as they were growing up. A daily dose of love, imagination, and daydreaming will take a child on a daily journey into that wonderful world of discovery. 

As I continued to sit in the soft breeze and listen to the screeches and clangs of the swing next door, I realized that this young lady had a lot of dreaming to do! After all, she’d been climbing up into the sky and back down again for quite some time already. I was grateful to her for this because it induced memories from within me that I hadn’t explored for a very long time. She made me realize that no matter what age we achieve, we should never stop filling our minds with new hopes and dreams for the future. We must always be encouraged to keep swinging high up into the sky! We all deserve it.

Life is a noisy backyard swing that we occupy for as long as possible before passing it down to our own children and grandchildren. The swing is a booster shot meant to protect and carry each generation into their own future by way of soaring dreams that may or may not be fulfilled; grand avenues to explore and discover what is possible. After all, even our dreams should remain as flexible and potent as our personal desires —  no matter how old we are.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

CAUGHT IN THE DEVIL’S BARGAIN

 

A series of essays….

WE ARE ALL CAUGHT IN THE DEVIL’S BARGAIN WHEN OUR
LEADERS BELIEVE THAT WAR IS AN ASSET OF OUR EXISTENCE

     Courtesy of The Paris Review

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

How often have you heard about the power and influence of music in our lives? I’ve written here about it many times over and in one capacity or another. I understand how music can evoke certain memories in time and place, spark our National pride and unite us in a cause, lull us into the unconscious world of sleep, and make us feel more relaxed. In some cases, music is used to ease physical pain and reduce our anxiety. 

That’s some very powerful medicine, my friends!

The arrangement of sounds through rhythm, melody, harmony, and timbre can be some very heady stuff when applied to the behavior of mortal souls and the beliefs we formulate within a lifetime. 

A dose of Canned Heat, Carlos Santana, Joe Cocker, Richie Havens, Joan Baez, Janis Joplin, and Jimi Hendrix should do the trick when it comes to memories of the Vietnam conflict and the promotion of peace and love — not war, during the 1960’s and ‘70’s. With many people recently comparing Vietnam with the war in Afghanistan this past week, even though many of these people are too young to have lived through the horrors of Vietnam and, eventually, the Cambodian conflict, the dose of pure hell our men and women lived and died by affected us in such a way that it is difficult to shake-off — even today. 

Country Joe and the Fish literally spelled it out for all of us in their ‘Vietnam Song (Live from Woodstock)’: “And it’s 1,2,3 what are we fightin for? Don't ask me I don't give a damn, next stop is Vietnam. And it’s 5,6,7 open up the pearly gates. Well there ain’t no time to wonder why...WHOOPEE we're all gunna die.” And die they did! The boys and girls, if lucky enough to have someone find their bodies, came home in wooden boxes to tearful loved ones often wondering if they died through ‘friendly fire’ (weapon fire coming from our own side) or at the hands of Vietcong soldiers. 

True, there was strong music composed and played during this solemn era in our lives. But, it also included the steady stream of lyrics stressing peace and love, spiritual healing, and our ability to make change. Richie Havens opened Woodstock with his energized song entitled ‘Freedom (Motherless Child)’ and set a dynamic pace right from the beginning. Richie taught himself to play guitar in order to be able to accompany the poetry he was writing while performing in Greenwich Village in Manhattan before being asked to appear at Woodstock. Believing that all song writers are truly poets at heart, Richie Havens certainly proves this theory.

SINGER JONI MITCHELL 

           Courtesy: Pinterest

If Joe Cocker doesn’t send chills through you with his rendition of ‘With a Little Help from My Friends,’ you must kick puppies and have no soul. May you Rest In Peace, Joe.

If the horrors of ending a war that was lost represents a long struggle with almost nothing to show for it but pain and sorrow without closure, than Vietnam and Afghanistan (eighteen and twenty years, respectfully) share this fatal attraction; this affinity for something inherently harmful and ultimately fruitless. But, unfortunately, enough to destroy the lives of those left behind — Afghans and Americans alike. Not even music can console broken hearts when it comes to the casualties of war, won or lost.

Living with my own heart and mind so intensely burdened by the ‘head spinning on overload’ days we now live through, I came across a favorite song on YouTube from quite a few years back and decided to push play. The surreal tones of Scottish bagpipes flooded the air and filled me with memories of our visit to the Scottish Highlands a few years ago. Beautiful memories were evoked and a sense of calm flooded through me almost immediately. Sir James Paul McCartney, MBE, you hit it out of the ballpark with the ‘Mull of Kintyre’ and I find myself pushing ‘play’ to hear it over and over again. Yes, powerful medicine, indeed!

Even though she always regretted not being able to be present at historic Woodstock, Joni Mitchell left her mark in September of 1969 when she released the song ‘Woodstock.’ The memorable rendition of this song by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young sums up the entire ‘love & hate, right & wrong, good vs evil’ feelings they (we all) experienced at Yasgur’s Farm during August 15 through August 18, 1969, whether we were physically present or not! 

“We are stardust, billion year old carbon, we are golden, caught in the devil’s bargain.”

“And I dreamed I saw the bombers riding shotgun in the sky and they were turning into butterflies above our nation.” Joni’s words still cling to me like one of these polymorphic beauties alight on my shoulder and guiding me with a ‘Message to Love.’ With its “got to get ourselves back to the garden” refrain, ‘Woodstock’ was, and remains, a song of hope and positivity. 

            

                    Courtesy: Consequence

Happy Anniversary, Woodstock!

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

APPROACHING THE ENDGAME WITH LITTLE TIME TO SPARE

A series of essays….

AS THE ENDGAME APPROACHES, IT IS TIME TO
ATTACK, CHECK, AND RESOLVE CLIMATE CHANGE, 
INFRASTRUCTURE, AND INEQUALITY IN ALL FORMS!

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

While I was watching Governor Andrew Cuomo’s lawyer hold a briefing on his behalf this (Tuesday) morning, she was refuting claims made by his accusers regarding sexual harassment. He was going to, finally, speak live on cable television in about a half an hour’s time; something he had yet to do since the proverbial shit hit the fan a few weeks ago. I couldn’t help but listen to a portion of his lawyer’s plea and conclude for myself that her reasoning for support of the Governor was directly based upon the fact that she was being retained (paid) by him. Bottom line.

We are going to have to listen to yet another older white male, permanently settled within the power and distinction of a man’s world, side-by-side with his own father’s legacy, tell his tale of woe and disbelief.  

According to this Cuomo PR strategy, at what personal expense will it be for all of the women who have already placed themselves in the public eye by confessing to the fact that Andrew Cuomo’s sexual indiscretions will undoubtedly pull them into weeks of litigation and courtroom drama? Have I mentioned the fact that these proceedings will include spending millions of dollars of taxpayer’s money? This may be a long term headache for Mr. Cuomo and the nation, but, hopefully, vindication for the eleven women involved, so far. 

But wait a minute! 

The Senate is voting on the infrastructure bill as the honeyed tones of a ‘pleading for innocence’ governor is heard planting seeds of doubt and setting the table for a real fight, in the background. 

Then the headlines proclaim: Senate passes $1 trillion infrastructure bill after months of intense bipartisan talks! With the cooperation of nineteen Republican senators, one of the most logical and resounding bills initiated by the Biden administration, so far, passes in the Senate.

My brain is in overdrive. My heart is pounding like a big, base drum. So thankful and so happy to know that the nation is opening-up to bipartisan recognition of our crumbling infrastructure…

Breaking news: New York Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo announces resignation in effort to head-off likely impeachment in wake of devastating report on his conduct.

Hold on one darn minute! Was I just watching Cuomo’s mouth moving and not listening to what he was saying at all? When did he slip into resignation mode? Absorbing the news this morning has definitely been a lesson in multi-listening. With so much happening simultaneously, I ask myself which story will be remembered most by those of us trying to fully understand these overlapping headlines? Will one diminish the other or will they both standout for what each represents as the days and weeks progress? I am sensing the latter to be most appropriate.

From what I understand, Andrew Cuomo continues to deny any wrong doing and plays innocently ignorant of how his actions may have impacted the women he is accused of harassing throughout the years. If we are left without impeachment proceedings, it is understood that he is eligible to run in future elections. Which elections these might be remains to be seen.

The future of Cuomo politics is an open book right now. Supporting the eleven victims involved becomes a priority no matter what form of personal legacy is left behind by this governor and the history of the State of New York. Only time will tell and serve to help us understand how this story will be written and, eventually, legitimized.

In long term thinking, the deteriorating bridges and roads, the anticipated clean drinking water throughout our cities, initiating broadband internet connections in small towns and rural areas, the support of many more and even higher paying jobs, and the peace of mind that good change is heading our way — makes the infrastructure bill one of the most anticipated bills we can hope to be signed into law by President Biden! In the vernacular of Vice-President Joe Biden under the Obama administration, this is certainly one BFD!!

Even as the Delta surge collides with the start of the school year, adding another dimension to our game of chess with its distinct moves made by individual pieces and the strategic plays of each player, our minds can be blown-away, placed in overload mode, as mine was just now. So much going on at one time that we either choose to accept and digest it all, or just give-up, turn off the news, and move on. 

Today I have embraced this game of chess; welcomed how it is being played-out with all of the bells and whistles expected of a loaded mind game designed to select a winner and a loser. I’m discovering how both of these labels, ultimately, do not define us. If we proceed to address our goals, understand and accept our fallacies, and work together to make the future a brighter, healthier, and better place to live — we will all become winners in this tricky game called life.

Wow, so much to digest in one morning!

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

COUNTING OUR BLESSINGS INSTEAD OF SHEEP

 

A series of essays….

HOW WONDERFUL IT WOULD FEEL TO FALL ASLEEP
WHILE COUNTING OUR BLESSINGS INSTEAD
OF OUR WORRIES!

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Blessings

come in an assortment  of sizes and forms, with a variety of both beneficial, indistinguishable, and negative connotations. A blessing can be given, counted innumerable times, cloaked behind inventive secrecy, or mixed and blended until it breeds something that may claim to be injurious in effect for its intended recipient.

Blessings can come in the form of small, individual acts of love given to and received gratefully by those who believe that these favors are gifts bestowed by God with the intention of bringing happiness, approval, or good wishes upon them. Even 'small blessings' are seen as benefits and advantages within this upside-down world we live in and we become most thankful for them as we sift through the alternate possibilities. Having very little money can be seen as a blessing if it, at least, provides a roof over our heads and enough food on the table for our happiness and basic survival. To offer praise and devotion for this humble meal in the form of saying grace before we eat allows us to bless the food and the provider responsible for our imminent sustenance.

Blessings often come in disguise as if they were guests at a masked ball, identities denied, yet distinguishable by their ultimate good effects. Initially, a  'blessing in disguise' might appear to be unlucky or harmful. In actuality, the outcome has been shifted from initial fear to something we may become eternally grateful for. For example, a set of solemn circumstances, such as missing days at work due to illness and subsequently losing your job, might initiate a more interesting or profitable source of employment in the future; open doors we didn’t even know existed.

The soothing words of the talented lyricist, Irving Berlin, would have us all "counting our blessings instead of sheep!" And, why not? When all is right with the world, how wonderful it would feel to fall asleep while counting our blessings instead of our worries? Beating the odds by surviving what could have been a tragedy and having us then realize our good fortune is certainly grounds for counting one's blessings! When the consequences of hard work and planning fall short of our expectations, it's important to take note of other incredible things that have happened to us. This may just be the most important antidote to sadness and despair the world has ever know!

Early explorers of our vast world, fearful of the unknown, would seek the blessings of the King, Queen, or highest ranked clergy by having them invoke a higher power for assistance, support, and inspiration before beginning their long, exploratory journeys by land or sea.

Beauty can be a mixed blessing. The attention received by a person of renowned physical beauty may only be a superficial blessing if others are less likely to take him or her seriously. We humans are often caught somewhere between that which is favorable and sailing adrift upon a sea dotted by active mines, disadvantageous features that we must learn to navigate around in order to survive. Many scientists proclaimed that discovering the power of the atom was a mixed blessing. Even as it opened our world to the positive aspects of nuclear power, it also made nuclear weapons possible. 

We incorporate innumerable blessings every day of our lives, whether we choose to recognize them as such or not. It may be in the form of a short prayer of thanksgiving said before a meal; enjoying the blessings of peace or prosperity; the devout invocation of blessedness bestowed upon us by a priest during the benediction of a mass; loving permission to go, proceed, or carry on in full agreement with the ideas of another, or being touched by the help or services offered to us out of the kindness and good fortune of others.

As grandparents, we consider our grandchildren to be among our greatest blessings. When we are able to travel and explore other cultures and languages, we become blessed by our newly attained knowledge and may choose to share it with others upon returning home. Recognizing are own personal talent and being able to utilize it in order to assist, please, or offer a brighter life to someone else is a blessing we should all strive for. Good friends....a gift never to be taken lightly and an absolute blessing for life. 

The blessings and good wishes bestowed upon us through the kindness of others should be cherished and returned in favor by us to those who require them, as well. When we are blessed enough to be able to understand our own bounty and good fortune and share it with those experiencing misfortune, we will have attained the full benefits of a truly blessed life.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved