Attitude of Gratitude

"Nothing comes easily, 

where do I begin?

Nothing can bring me peace, 

I've lost everything. 

I just want to feel your embrace. 

Turn my grief to grace."

"Grace" - Kate Havnevik

A few weekends ago, I had yet another retreat under my belt. Below is the reflection I shared with my students on being grateful constantly and for all the right reasons. Since I haven't blogged in a while, I thought I'd share this with you. 

 

“Dear Mommom, thank you for helping me with my Girl Scout Badge. Here are some cursive letters (i t u e). Love, Rebecca Gutherman.”

I think that hilarious, little note was written probably when I was in 1st or 2nd grade; just about the time I was learning cursive. My Mommom had the most beautiful cursive handwriting and I wanted to have handwriting just like hers. I was obviously showing off.

“Dear Mommom and Poppop, Thank you so very much for the wonderful Communion Gifts. I am so lucky to have you as my grandparents. You will always be special to me. Love, your granddaughter, Rebecca.”

This note has better handwriting, a little crooked, but better. Naturally it was written in gold gel pen because that was the 90’s. It would have been incredibly incomplete without it.

My favorite thank you note, by far, was not actually written by me. It was written by my mom, because, judging by the picasso art, I could not yet write letters. It simply says, “Thank you mommom and poppop. You make me smile. Love, Becca.”

Growing up, my parents encouraged me, no, forced me, to write a thank you note for everything under the sun. Whether it was for plenteous birthday gifts or Christmas presents, or for the gratitude I was oh so overcome with when someone babysat us, helped us out, or took us on a trip. I can guarantee that most of the thank you notes I ever wrote went to my grandparents. Even more so to my Mommom.

My Mommom loved to write, so often we would end up in the endless cycle of notecards and letters. She would send a Valentine card with 2 dollars in it, I’d write a thank you note, signed by either me or both of my sisters. Of course, she’d later respond and hence, the endless cycle. While at the time it always seemed so nettlesome to write thank you note after thank you note, I learned to really appreciate writing and later, receiving thank you notes. It’s always such a joy to find one on my desk, in my mailbox at school or better yet, one in the real mailbox at home with a stamp attached. Yes, actual snail mail, people. I love the joy that comes with writing them as well.

My Mommom used to tell me I got my gift of writing from her. She would also tell me, I got my gift of people skills from her, my perfect penmanship from her and my love for lasagna, wine, traveling, taking pictures and documenting memories all from her. I’m my Grandmother’s granddaughter for sure. I should also mention that I get my bad habit of keeping EVERYTHING from her as well. I keep every note, letter, card ever given to me. I have drawers filled with them. I keep concert tickets, movie ticket stubs, sticky notes on the fridge, everything. That’s how I got a hold of the thank you notes.

When I graduated high school, my Mommom gave me two gifts: a ring that I’ve worn since that day that is inscribed with Mark 10:27 - with God all things are possible; and two very large scrapbooks. The scrapbooks weigh at least ten pounds each and have documented in them every picture I drew, every TY note I wrote, every picture I took, every trip I took, every concert I performed in or went to, everything. Two scrapbooks filled with momentos from my 18 years of life.

When I got them, I laughed, I cried and I ran my hand over every page that had her handiwork on it. She spent months working on this project and she put herself into every page wholeheartedly. I kept them in my bedroom and would open them up every time I did a “deep clean” of my bedroom - at least every few months. Each time I would sit on the floor and go carefully through each one, catching something new I never saw before. Each time, I felt so incredibly blessed not only that my grandmother put all my favorite memories in one place, but also that I had so many memories - happy memories of people, places and events. Truly, that’s what I treasure the most and each time I opened those books, I would thank my God for blessing me so much.

Just recently, I found myself on the bedroom floor browsing through these scrapbooks. This time, it wasn’t a result of a deep clean, although I should probably do that soon. Rather, it’s because I wanted to run my hands over the pages where my Mommom’s fingers delicately placed each picture perfectly. I wanted to touch the pages on which she had left so many traces of love. I wanted to touch her. The words of the song you just heard said it perfectly - it’s what I’ve been feeling so deeply since January 10, 2016 when my Mommom suddenly passed away.

None of us were expecting it - my sister and my dad had seen her the night before, laughed with her, told jokes, ate cookies, drank tea and she was only suffering from what seemed like a small bout of a cold. But the next morning, after I had routinely gone to Mass, gone to the gym and was headed to spend the day with my boyfriend, I got a very confused phone call from my younger sister. Without giving me any details, she told me to re-route and head the Abington Hospital right away - Mommom was in bad shape. Little did I know, even upon arriving at the hospital, that my Mommom had already gone home to God. I couldn’t believe it then and most days, I still can’t believe it. Yes, most days, I’m still waiting for her to come home from her 2 month vacation in Florida she took every Winter.

As I browsed through pictures to make memory boards and listened to numerous songs to help numb the pain, there was only one thing I really wanted. I wanted to hug her, I wanted to walk into her house, wake her up from “resting her eyes on the easy chair” and hear her voice again. As much as I always felt suffocated when she hugged me, I wanted her to grab my face, kiss me a million times and smother me with her arms. I would do anything to be suffocated by her love again. I just want to feel her embrace.

As hard as it’s been mourning my Mommom, my grief has been turned to grace. There have been ups and downs: Laughing at memories or spending hours sobbing because I lost my best friend; hiding my tears or sharing them with friends; feeling the sun shine warm upon my face and feeling empty. But mostly I’ve been reminiscing on how lucky I am to have had my Mommom for almost 24 years. As Justin Beiber would say, “I’m more than grateful for the time we spent, my spirit’s at ease.” I have so much for which to be thankful - the memories, the trips, the selfies, the adventures, the late-night prayers, the phone calls, the dinner dates, the laughter, the jokes, the joys. I’m so thankful that God gave me such a beautiful woman to nourish me, to hold me, to be my advocate when no one else would, to be the lone supporter in the crowd at a concert, to be my biggest cheerleader. I’m so thankful she was always there for me. And if I had the chance to write her one last thank you note, I would say:

“Dear Mommom,

Thank you for the time we spent together. Thank you for all the hugs and kisses. Thank you for all your love. Thank you for every note card. Thank you for passing down your love of music, writing and loving all people. Thank you for always having orange juice in the fridge for when I visit and knowing it’s my favorite. Thank you for always hiding the good candy and saving it for me. Thank you for your gift of humor and still bringing smiles to my face. Thank you for every FB message that may or may not have made sense. Thank you for giving me so many memories to keep you alive with me here and now. Thank you for every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every year I got to spend with you - the most beautiful woman in the world. I am so lucky to have you as my Mommom and you will always be special to me.

Love,

Becca

P.S. I love you. Shine on.”

Kiss for the Road - an Open Letter to my Extended Family

"Families are messy. Sometimes the best we can do

is to remind each other that we're related for better and for worse....

and try to keep the maiming and the killing to a minimum."

- Rick Riordan, "Sea of Monsters"

It's not all the cousins, but it's a good amount.

Dear Family, 

All great letters start with "Dear," don't they? The word means "to, hey you read this, and I'm addressing you, so listen up." But it also means "my fondest, beloved, and cherished." In this family, both apply...listen up now, my cherished related family members. 

And so I say, to my dear family members, I've been reflecting our us as a collective whole for a while now. Maybe because the last time we were all together was a sad occasion. Maybe because I love you all too much it hurts some times. Maybe before I think I love being around all of you more than anything in the world. I'm not sure what sparked this desire to write this letter to you, but I think I need to. I think it's time I told you a lot of things. 

I have so many fond memories of us together. I have a picture of me and granddad on my desk at school from the pumpkin patch. Remember how we would all pile into the giant hay-filled trailer and travel a long way to the pumpkin patch? I vaguely remember the tradition happening all the way out near Kennett Square. I vaguely remember the giant whole-in-face scarecrow thing they had there. I'm not sure how many of the cousins got to see it because it closed or we stopped going or something happened. 

I have many fond memories of the tire swing that most of us are way too big for and that one time someone broke an elbow or a pair of glasses or something...okay, it was more than one time. I have fond memories of sledding down the farm hill and thinking it was the best thing in the world. I remember going to cut down our own Christmas trees. I remember all the parties we had for Baptisms, First Communions, Graduations and Birthdays. There was always laughter, pictures, fun times, good food and hours upon hours of conversation or play. My favorite day of the year is the family party around Christmastime. I literally look forward to that all year, more than anyone can understand. 

I love when we sit around the table telling the most hilarious stories of all the brothers and sister growing up. My maternal grandmother never can understand how me and my sisters can say one word and laugh until we're blue in the face. But I'm pretty sure I get that from my dad's side of the family because no one really knows the significance of the Mayonnaise Jar or what the heck pookie means except the brothers and sister. I'm not sure I even want to know. But what I love most about those stories is the laughter that comes from them. Whether you're laughing because you were present or you're laughing because someone else's laughter is just as funny as the story itself. I know, snorting is hilarious, and yes, I'm usually the one snorting. I also love hearing the stories of our grandparents. Like how apparently granddad never let us go when we were younger or always sugared us up before returning us back to our parents. I love the pictures we have of them and somehow it leads me to believe that they loved each other a lot.  I wish I could have known Grandmom because she sounds like the strong, faith-filled woman I can only dream of being. I wish Granddad could have been here longer -  Stewart's Root Beer and Ginger Snaps just aren't the same anymore. I wish I could know if I've made them proud. 

Above all, I love each and everyone of you. The ladies of our family are some of the strongest, most empowering, and most faith-filled women I know. Whenever I need confidence, I look to my aunts - the women who have dealt with my uncles for years, who have raised my favorite people in the world, who give so much passion to their professions, their lifestyles and their families. Each of you are unique and I sometimes like to pretend I have a bit of each of your personality in me. The men of our family have shown me what to look for in my best guy friends and/or a future husband (and.....what not to look for ;)). They have shown me how to protect one's family and provide for one's family. I have seen some of the best dads I've ever met in this family. All this being said, I've seen some great power couples, too. Life goals couples. Yes, I see how husbands make wives laugh and how they frustrate each other at times. I see them get through really tough times and enjoy the blissful moments. I want that one day whether it's with Jesus or it's with a husband. 

To my cousins, the source of my tear-filled laughter. I laugh the hardest with you. I cry the most with you. I dodge the most punches when I'm with you...and I throw the most punches when I'm with you. I hear the most harassment from you about my height, but hey, shorty still loves you. But I also hear the most words of encouragement from you. Whether you're protecting our country, our family name or my dignity, you are there for me and I always feel the safest in your presence. With no one else would I willingly ruin a pair of shoes in the mud, risk a broken limb, run faster than I've ever run, race with my younger cousins on my back, or even sit around a crowded room for hours without any contact to the outside world. You are each my hero in a unique way and I wish you could know the extent of my love for you. The truth is, I don't have the words for it. All I can say is "I love you" each time and hope you know it's true. 

We don't each other often enough. It seems we only see each other now when tears are involved - births, deaths and marriages. And it's a crying shame I don't see you more often. I truthfully long to once again all be crowded in someone's smaller house for now reason other than to eat and be merry. I truthfully long to play cops and robbers, get dirty, and be childishly silly with my cousins again. I'm guilty of being so busy that sometimes I can't breathe but I think I already know what my New Year's Resolution is going to be - the see my family more often. To make it a point to visit with my aunts and uncles and cousins. Because I love you each so much. 

I started this letter with a great quotation - families are messy. We have our own messes, our own flaws, things we know about, things we hide. I have this ideal image of our family and I know each of us carries our own burdens, our own mistakes, our own flaws and so much more. I admit that I am not perfect, I could never even think about being perfect. I know that of my own person, I have my own issues. I love too much, I get my heart broken too easily, I want to save the world. But I also get too angry, I sometimes have yelling matches with God about my life and the world, and I often feel like giving up. There's more but this letter isn't about me. But really, I get it, we all have quirks, flaws and problems. We all have some reason or another to hate on someone else at times. And yeah we have family drama. But all of that doesn't make me love you any less. In fact, I think it makes me love you more because it reminds me I'm not alone. 

The truth is, the reason I wrote this open letter is so that you would know I love you. So I could put into words the reasons why I love you. You make me the best me when I'm with you. You bring out all the things I love about myself. You actually think I'm funny when I tell jokes. You actually listen to my stories whether or not they are good stories. You pray for me. You make me smile. You let me give nice, long, snuggly hugs and you let me hold your hands. You let me laugh until I'm snorting or crying or both. You remind me that I'm loved when I'm being silly and when I'm being a little melancholy, too. You remind me, too, why I'm proud to be a part of this family and to be a Catholic. 

Thank you. Thank you for being there when I need a smile, a laugh or a reminder that I need to be the best me. Thank you for everything, for raising me into the young woman I am today. Thank you for dressing me in my baptismal dress, taking my pictures, letting me be in your weddings, trusting me enough to babysit, be a godmother, letting me run around your houses (still) and so much more. Thank you and thank God we share the same last name. I love you all. 

Sincerely, 

Your niece, daughter, grand-daughter, cousin.

P.S. Here's a KISS for the Road.