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Erma has had a voice; Sylvia’s finding hers. Together, these two are hell bent on helping others find theirs. Sharing “aha” moments. Snapping each other out of funks. Whatever it takes to get one another over the next hurdle, through the next day, and onto the next best part of life.

Everyone needs someone, so grab your mug (or a glass) and pull up a chair for a look and a listen.

The week is off to an interesting start!

Sylvia’s Basket

Hopes. Dreams. Wishes. Love. Joy. Trust. Respect. And so much more. You must keep filling your basket which of course requires energy.

Erma constantly reminds Sylvia to take good care of herself first- something Erma learned the hard way but she eventually learned!

The gals’ suggestion for today and definitely for the weekend: Do something just for you!

Today Erma’s Delivering

Ever have a time when you can’t shake a word, a melody, or feeling? You just cannot get whatever it is out of your mind? It happens to Erma more often than she’d like and usually when she should be concentrating on something or someone else. The word that has been stuck in her craw both last night and as she starts this new day is “delivery” (happy to say that it’s no longer gnawing at her since she decided to share her annoyance with Sylvia for a change) — yes, delivery. Indeed.

Of course, dealing with the impediment of having this word caught in my mind’s eye has been more than a tad annoying, but like the storms we’ve weathered recently, its presence no longer hinders and the reason for its resonance has become clear. Just as the storm arrives fiercely and then leaves quietly so that we may know what calm truly means, the word delivery keeps coming to the forefront of my mind so that I can find direction and purpose. The reminder succinctly: I need to deliver.

Delivery to most people means the act of dropping off something or making a deposit. It suggests a completed action. For me, it encompasses so much more. It means starting something, creating, producing, and feeling. Life is all about the delivery! How one delivers an idea, a gift, a speech, and even a baby reveals intention.

I’ve been thinking, writing, and editing a great deal (to some extent ad nauseum which is both necessary and painfully characteristic of most writers at various times), and doing all three because I firmly believe in the power of delivery. Delivery demonstrates intention– one can deliver with sincerity, with humor, with love, with hope, and with gratitude. On the flip side, one can also deliver with fear, with sarcasm, with disdain, with disgust, and with flagrant disregard. The difference is intention. And people -our connections, our friendships, and our daily audience- create intention. I’ll share with you that my audience motivates me and creates intent and purpose, both surprisingly and knowingly. I’m responsible for the delivery, but each of you reminds me that simply being and doing will get me through the day but will not necessarily make the most of my day. Each of you -my family; my friends (my Sylvias and Ermas) near and far; my father; and often my son (that young man especially inspires me)- every single one of you makes me think more deliberately about how I live and deliver both me and my message to the world.

What’s the message today?

On this Friday, Good Friday for many and at sundown tonight the beginning of Passover for others, I’m finally able to get past this sticking point and carry myself from pause to purpose. Hoping that your weekend delivers you from any troubles that may be weighing on you and brings you to a place of peace and purpose– wherever you need to be at the moment.

Mark this one delivered with love from Erma.

Erma to the Rescue

Today the full sun isn’t drawing any lines. Sylvia’s feeling everything at once. Erma’s just arrived to help provide the guide lines. Guide lines not guidelines.

There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt. ~Erma Bombeck

#breathe

Created Worthy

You do not need to become worthy. You were born worthy! Be perfectly imperfect as was the plan all along.

Sylvia and Erma are each doing their own thing this Saturday morning. One thing’s for sure though- they’ll catch up with each other later and remind one another with a little push from Viola that each [of them] is exactly as God/the universe intended. Meanwhile, Sylvia’s sharing a favorite of hers (author unknown).

The story goes:

When God created Woman, he was working late on the sixth day.

An Angel came by and asked, “Why spend so much time on her?”

The Lord answered, “Have you seen all the specifications I have to meet to shape her?

She must function on all kinds of situations.

She must be able to embrace several kids at the same time, have a hug that can heal anything from a bruised knee to a broken heart.

She must do all this with only two hands.

She cures herself when sick and can work 18 hours a day.”

The Angel was impressed. “Just two hands? Impossible! And this is the standard model?”

The Angel came closer and touched the woman. “But you have made her so soft, Lord.”

“She is soft,” said the Lord, “but I have made her strong. You can’t imagine what she can endure and overcome.”

“Can she think?” the Angel asked.

The Lord answered, “Not only can she think, she can reason and negotiate.:

The Angel touched her cheeks. “Lord, it seems this creation is leaking! You have put too many burdens on her.”

“She is not leaking. It is a tear,” the Lord corrected the Angel.

“What’s it for?” asked the Angel.

The Lord said, “Tears are her way of expressing her grief, her doubts, her love, her loneliness, her suffering and her pride.”

This made a big impression on the Angel. “Lord, you are a genius. You thought of everything. A woman is indeed marvelous.”

The Lord said, “Indeed she is. She has strength that amazes a man. She can handle trouble and carry heavy burdens. She holds happiness, love and opinions.”

She smiles when she feels like screaming. She sings when she feels like crying, cries when happy and laughs when afraid. She fights for what she believes in.

Her love is unconditional. Her heart is broken when a next-of-kin or a friend dies but she finds strength to get on with life.

The Angel asked, “So she is a perfect being?”

The Lord replied, “No. She has just one drawback.
SHE OFTEN FORGETS WHAT SHE IS WORTH.”

—Author unknown

(Picture/painting credit: S.Chakamian)

One Teardrop At a Time

Let the tears flow. Tears of survival. Tears of determination.

Erma: I assure you, Sylvia, it’ll pass. It’ll be over soon.

Sylvia: You think so? Promise? Because honestly, Erma, I don’t know if I have anything left. I’m so tired.

Erma: Bullshit, Sylvia. There’s always something left, so grab the Kleenex.

And Still I Give Thanks

Sylvia and Erma are spending the day with their respective families – giving thanks for the meal they’ll share, the orderly chaos of the kitchen, and their children who wish to forego the turkey for the pies that have been freshly extracted from the oven. And without a doubt, as these women sit down with their broods, however big or small, they take at least a second if not a hundred to give thanks for each other and their bond of friendship. And as I prepare the Thanksgiving feast, I’m thinking about how we all count our blessings on this day- love, health, family, friendship, peace, freedom, etc. but too often forget the little things, all of the tidbits that create the essence of our daily lives. 

Thanks. 

For dinner even when it’s out of a box or take-out. For the compliment whether it is “I like your shoes” or “You’re gorgeous inside and out.” For holding open the door even if it’s only because you are waiting for the person who is walking behind me to come through it.  For the flowers picked from the garden even if they are losing their petals. For the birthday gift even if it’s the wrong size. For letting me know you left on time. For letting me know you arrived safely. For kissing me for no reason or any reason. For holding my hand. For the out-of-the blue phone call just to check in. For the good morning text. For morning coffee. For evening wine. And of course, for pulling that pesky little thread on occasion, the one that I knew was there but was too afraid to pull on my own. 

Gratitude or semblances of it come easily when the offering is tangible, tactile, and visible. However, think about how much of life is intangible, untouchable, and invisible.  A staggering amount of life- most of it in fact! Life depends on what is felt and shared.  Yet for some reason and I tend to think it is due to self-absorption and our overwhelming inattention to the present (unless it impacts us greatly and immediately), gratitude is something we save for special occasions. We save gratitude- true, heart-filling, and profound thanks- for those times when we are reflecting on special days. So, here’s an idea: Practice gratitude. Don’t save it! It does not need to be coveted and handed out stingily. Opportunities for giving thanks, showing thanks, and feeling blessed are around us each day throughout the day. 

For chipped teeth and the dentist. Pimples and ProActiv. Minor cuts and Bandaids. Perspiration and deodorant. Crying babies and pacifiers. Missed appointments and calendars. Painful labor and a baby’s first breath. 

Small dilemmas and colossal joys and sorrows often find simple answers and deliver lovely outcomes. For each and every, give thanks. They are all individually and collectively reasons to be grateful. They are everywhere. They are bountiful! 

Whether short and sweet or long and laborious, days replete with moments that become memories to mark time.

For my days, I give thanks. 

Whether quick-footed and charted or leisurely and meandering, walks made up of deliberate steps filled with hope. 

For walks, alone or with company, I give thanks. 

Whether fictitious and colorful or authentic and serious, words that arouse the spirit and nourish the mind that comprise the tales of a life well-lived.

For words written and spoken, and above all else the feelings that the words evoke, I give thanks. 

Whether new and blossoming or matured and steadfast, friends who fill the days; create the memories; walk the path together; and write and share their words and stories.  

For you and for us, I give thanks. 

None of it is certain. And still I give thanks. 

Sylvia, Erma, and I extend to you our gratitude and wishes for joyful abundance of all kinds. Happy Thanksgiving!