Unexpected Places

Allow your answers to come from surprising sources.

Unexpected Places

“During my teen years, I struggled with abandonment issues and feelings of rejection. After several years of searching for love in all the wrong places, I remember crying myself to sleep one Saturday night when I was in my early 20s. When I woke up on Sunday morning, I still felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness and loneliness.” Tonya said.

The next morning, for some unknown reason, she got up and dressed so she could go for a walk.  While walking, she was about to pass a small building just a few blocks from her home when she felt an unmistakable “tugging” on her heart.

“I didn’t understand why I felt I had to stop there.” She said, as Tonya Moore was teaching me about the principle of ‘Unexpected Places and Sources.’”  

Her advice?  “If it feels like something is tugging at your heart, DO NOT WAIT.”

Even though this life changing experience happened to Tonya many years ago she says, “It still gives me chills to this day. The people I met in that unexpected place have become one of the most powerful sources of warmth and love in my life! They were a group of complete strangers that eventually became like my family. I had never known such great love!”

Here are the other key points Tonya taught me about this important, potentially life-changing principle.

First, let unexpected discovery become your passion. “If you’ll simply change your point of view slightly and begin to anticipate the wonder of surprise all of the time, you’ll soon begin to experience your life as one miracle after another.”

Second, become the “unexpected” for others.  Tonya gifts her own passion by being an influencer to help others identify their purpose and become the best version of themselves. It’s not as if she views herself as a “life coach,” she just gets joy from sharing her knowledge, skills, and talents with others so they can succeed more quickly.

Third, believe in the power of expansion.  “I purposefully put myself in a position to help other people I’ve never met and who may never have the capacity to return the favor.  Participating in selfless acts of love has changed me and filled my life with love. It’s replaced the feelings of overwhelming emptiness and loneliness I felt on that one, fateful Saturday night.” She explained.

Finally, allow yourself to use your hands and feet to move you in unexpected ways.  Life makes sure that every single one of us will have at least one dark Saturday night like Tonya experienced.  The question is whether you and I will embrace the unexpected when it surprises us, let unexpected discovery become our passion, become the unexpected for others and believe in the power of expanding love.  If we will, then you and I will begin to experience our lives as one miracle after another!

The yellow radio was a constant my mother’s home.

One Particular Yellow Radio

My mother was never feeling alone, she had a yellow radio.  As I was growing up and long after I left her home to make my way in the world, she always had one particular radio, one with a yellow plastic case on her kitchen counter.  I would hear her favorite radio station constantly playing in the background as a child.  Of course, it was music I hated.  It was an “Oldies” format.

Even when her favorite oldies station had folded and newer, much more contemporary music had become the new oldies, the one constant inside her home was that aging yellow radio, still playing, still keeping my mother company.

On one occasion, a few years ago, when I made the hour-long drive to visit my mother, to give her some human company, I knocked on her front door hoping she would respond, because I had made the drive without an appointment.  After the knock, I stood on her porch and waited.  There was no answer.  But, I could hear music coming from that yellow radio.  So, I walked around the back to see if my mother was there, not able to hear my knock.  Further inspection allowed me to discover that her car was not in the garage.  I decided to wait and listen to music from the yellow radio while sitting on the porch.  It kept me company during the fleeting minutes of my expectation.

In a few minutes my anticipation was introduced to satisfaction when my mother’s white Oldsmobile sedan cruised into the drive.  And, I was met with a smile and wave from the white-haired grandmother of my children sitting behind its steering wheel.

“You leave your radio on when you’re not home?”  I asked as she came up the sidewalk to her front door.

“It’s sound welcomes me home.”  She responded warmly, with a shy grin.

Then the time came when the yellow radio stopped welcoming my mother home.  And, all of her belongings were carefully and lovingly being removed from the house she would never return to.  My siblings thoughtfully asked me what of her belongings I would like to have.

“Only the yellow radio.”  I said with certainty, because I wanted it to constantly welcome me home, just as it did my mother for more than fifty years.

And, now that I’m all grown up, long after my mother had left her home for the last time to make her way out of this world, I was hoping it would do the same for me.  So, this particular radio, the one with a yellow plastic case, that was constantly playing on my mother’s kitchen counter, is sitting in my home.  As a child I heard her favorite radio station constantly playing in life’s background.  Of course, it was music I hated.  It was an “Oldies” format.  Now, these many years later, I can only wish to once again see my mother standing in her kitchen, by her yellow radio, listening to those same old songs, the ones she really loved.

Today those old songs and the yellow radio are two constants in an ever changing, uncertain world.  They help me fend off the loneliness of not seeing my mother anymore. They keep me company, just like they did my mother, and they’re helping me stay focused on things of true value; important things, such as being a loving parent. 

A Dogs' Tail

“There was an amazing connection between us from the moment we laid eyes on each other!” – Irving Rivera

 

A Dog’s Tail

 

“How did you know which dog to bring home when you went to the animal shelter looking for one?” I, as a tween, said to my Uncle Jerry.

 

Jerry Lloyd spent most of his life in Montpelier, Idaho, a small town of about two-thousand-six-hundred people.  At least that’s what the size was a few years ago. I haven’t been back since my Uncle Jerry passed away.  His passing went unnoticed by most, because as measured by many standards he would be considered as simple, insignificant.  But, to me he was a giant, a man of expansive love and experience.

 

“I just look until I find the one who knows me.”  Jerry replied with his seemingly, unending, characteristic twinkling eyes.

 

That memory is perhaps the most impressive tale about dogs my uncle taught me. It’s vivid memory seems to have been branded into my soul.  I can still see the vision of us talking in one of his hay fields under a deep blue canopy, punctuated with the bright yellow sun, not long after the alfalfa had been cut.  We were standing near the rear of his mud splattered, white flatbed truck, admiring his newly adopted dog as he stood as a sentinel, his feet almost above our shoulders, since he was on the truck’s elevated flat. I was questioning Jerry, with wonder, about the unmistakable and unbreakable bond he and his furry mate shared.  I’ve rarely seen anything like it, up to now.

 

A few days ago, I was visiting my friend Irving Rivera, a U.S. Military Veteran, as he recounted his own similar tale, while sitting across his kitchen table from me.

 

“I was struggling with PTSD from my service in Afghanistan.  I’d been consulting with my doctor at the VA in Salt Lake City.  My Doc said, ‘This isn’t something that’ll ever go away, I’m sorry to say!’”  Irving said, while we both looked through the kitchen slider, onto his deck, at his smiling, mouth-full-of-large-red-ball, deep brown chocolate Labrador.

 

“We were driving through Idaho where we stopped at a store. There was a guy there selling puppies from his dog’s recent litter. When I saw him (his head nodding toward the glass framed pup) I knew him!  Our eyes locked!”

 

Irving told me that he didn’t have the money necessary to purchase his soul-mate dog at the time, so he asked the man to hold the dog for him until he could go home, make a little more money and come back. The man agreed!

 

After two weeks Irving had earned and saved the money.  He made the long drive back to Idaho where he met the patient man at his home, paid him the money, collected his dog and drove to the very house we were sitting in.

 

“He rested his head on my leg the whole drive home!”  Irving choked out with emotion.  “He can sense my PSD anxiety attacks coming on!  He instinctively comes over and licks my hands to comfort me.  He goes to bed with me every night and waits until I fall asleep before he inspects the house.  Then he stays up all night watching to make sure I’m all right, protected.  In the morning he senses when I’m about to awaken and comes in to be there when I get up.  I would never leave him.  I love that dog!”

 

“How did you know which dog to bring home when you went to the animal shelter looking for one?” I remembered myself saying, as a tween, to my Uncle Jerry.

 

Irving Rivera has spent the most recent few years of his life in a small town in Tooele Valley, Utah.  At least, that’s where he’s been living after serving you and me in Afghanistan, while with the U.S. Military. His life here has been unnoticed by most, because as measured by many standards he would be considered as simple, insignificant.  But, to me he’s a giant, a man of expansive love and experience.

 

“I just look until I find the one who knows me.”  Jerry once said with his seemingly, unending, characteristic twinkling eyes.

 

“We were driving through Idaho where we stopped at a store. There was a guy there with a litter of puppies. When I saw him (his head nodding toward the glass framed pup) I knew him!  Our eyes locked! There was an amazing connection between us from the moment we laid eyes on each other!”  Irving said, as if looking at me through Jerry’s seemingly, unending, characteristic twinkling eyes.

 

I looked out of Irving’s kitchen door.  His dog’s chocolate tail had been keeping beat with the words of his pal.  It punctuated Jerry and Irving’s story, a dog’s tail.

The Three Legs of FulPhillment

“My focus is on creating a place where my loved ones will want to gather together for support and joy.” – Phil Grimm

 

The Three Legs of FulPhillment

 

A drive on the winding, country roads in the foothills of Arkansas’ Ozark Mountains always offers twists and turns of seemingly never-ending variety.  The narrow, woods-lined roads offer changing views of cattle laden fields, dotted with huge round-grass-woven bales of hay, broad streaming rivers and lakes that beckon all passers to seek relief in their warm soothing waters.  Yet, there was a twist I wasn’t expecting on one late August summer day.  A telephone call from an Arizona area code.

 

I recognized the number immediately.  It was my friend Phil Grimm.

 

“Hey Lynn.”  Phil said as soon as I touched the handsfree answer button on my car.  “I was just calling to spend some time talking with you.  We don’t take the time to just talk enough!”

 

The nose of my car headed down another slope toward a dancing brook.  And, of course, the cellular signal on my phone followed it right on down to zero bars.  My phone dropped the call.

 

“I’m sorry!” I said to Phil as soon as he answered my return call.  “I’m in Arkansas and drove down into a hollow.”

 

“I completely understand!”  Phil responded.  “I’m on my way back home from Beaver Lake right now!  We’ve been searching for a new lake house so we can spend more time with our family.”

 

Three days later Phil and I had lunch together where we huddled in a corner so we could do some additional exploring.  That’s when I learned more about what I call “The Three Legs of FulPhillment” as taught to me by Phil himself.

 

First.  Follow your own path.  “I was caught up in chasing what society was telling me I should do to find happiness.”  Phil said, with a tortilla chip in his hand.  “What I discovered over years of living that way was that I’d become a person I no longer recognized!  I wasn’t being true to who I really am, what I felt inside, could offer to the world and what makes me happy.”

 

He went on to explain that he as a result of this realization he has systematically begun a step by step process to correct his own path.  He took the time to discover what was important to him, then he moved forward to simplify his life.

 

Second. Simplify through selection.  “While self-examining, I discovered I was involved in too many good things.”  Phil explained. “It’s taken some time, but I’m clear about what I want to focus on now.  Now I’m letting everything else fall by the wayside.  I’ve learned to say no, while gathering the important!”

 

Third.  Gather.  “I’m looking for a place where I can gather my loved ones.  I want it to be a place where they want to come.  A place where we can all find refuge with each other.  We’re going to create a place of belonging, fun and healing. My focus is on creating a place where my loved ones will want to join together for support and joy.” He continued painting a verbally vivid picture, as he spent the rest of our extra-long lunch talking through every detail of his new self-reclamation adventure.

 

When we walked out of the restaurant door together to go our separate ways, I felt a new sense of purpose.  Our conversation had been just like driving on the winding, country roads in the foothills of Arkansas’ Ozark Mountains.  It offered twists and turns of seemingly never-ending variety.  The narrow, hopes-and-dreams-lined conversational roads offered changing views of how to find one’s own genuine path, dotted with huge round-hope-woven bales of how to simplify by selection, broad streaming rivers and lakes that beckon all loved ones to seek relief in their warm soothing waters of gathering for refuge, a sense of belonging, fun and healing. 

 

Yet, there was one twist I wasn’t expecting, on combined late August and early September summer days.  Being thoroughly inspired by the Three Legs of FulPhillment.