The Grateful Life: A Book About Gratitude

Posted on November 11, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

grat·i·tude

ˈɡradəˌt(y)o͞od/

noun

the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness.

Gratitude is trending. In less than a second I can find nearly 400,000 hits for #gratitude on Google. Twitter is alive with posts about gratitude, everything from people’s 5 Things A Day, ways to teach our kids gratitude, and celebrities like Oprah reminding us to “never let the things you want make you forget the things you have.”

It’s everywhere. How could we miss it? How could we not feel it around us, a never ending reminder that life is good and we should be grateful?

On Facebook we’re grateful for leaves changing color, for veterans and our loving husbands. Some folks are grateful for their ‘amazing’ main course or dessert, for their adorable kids and dogs, and for…gratitude itself. For the awareness, finally, that life is worth shouting out about.

If you’re inspired by stories of gratitude – stories by REAL people experiencing the transformative power of gratitude – you should put The Grateful Life: The Secret to Happiness and the Science of Contentment on your reading list. Written by Nina Lesowitz and Mary Beth Sammons (I reviewed their last book, What Would You Do If You Knew You Could Not Fail), The Grateful Life offers tips and inspirational stories from people just like you and me who have experienced the benefits of living mindfully and with an awareness of the blessings in our lives.

Each of the ten chapters offers several short vignettes accompanied by sidebar tidbits, all centered around a theme. The book starts with Chapter One’s “How Gratitude and Intentional Behavior Move to Our Hearts, Creating Blessings in Our Lives” and sidebars “The Network for Grateful Living” and “Gratitude Prayer”, and ends with Chapter Ten’s theme of “The Secret to a Gratitude Makeover: How to Create Gratitude Practices That Stick” and sidebars about Jimmy Fallon’s Thank You Lessons, Writing Thank You Cards, and tips about how to bring more gratitude into your life.

I’ve experienced the power of gratitude first hand, as have millions of people. When my son was faced with a broken leg last summer and saw his ski racing dreams severely compromised, we got through the hardest hours by rattling off three gratitudes – and we made it. Life will always get better, but sometimes we need to take a little pause and give ourselves time and permission to remember that.

The Grateful Life: The Secret to Happiness and the Science of Contentment can offer just that – a reminder that in sharing our stories of the benefits of gratitude as told by people just like us, we can begin to live a life of more contentment, gratefulness and transformation.

To read more about the book, visit their website: http://www.vivaeditions.com/book_page.php?book_id=85.

p.s. – did you read my previous posts about gratitude? Deep Gratitude, Thanks, Coach, For the Life Lessons, and Broken?

I received a free copy of this book for review purposes. All opinions are my own.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Friday Photo: Things We Cannot Change

Posted on November 7, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

Sunset over UC Davis

I like to walk, especially in the early mornings or early evenings. I try to change it up, to not take the same path every day. Usually I bring my little 16-pounds-of-fury with me for company, but this week he decided to take a vacay with grandma so it’s just me. Alone.

Sometimes my kids walk with me. Used to walk with me, I should say. Now, with one in college and one with a broken leg, I’m usually on my own. It’s ok, though – for me, walking is meditation. Time to clear the monkey mind that’s developed after a day of teaching and simply get back to center. Alone.

Often I walk onto campus to see what’s going on. It kinda is like I never left college – I love seeing the towering buildings with kids spilling in and out. I wonder what they’ve read the night before, and how the professor will excite their brains. I smile when I see a crowd waiting for a midterm to begin, blue books or scantrons in hand. I remember that anxiety well.

Last night I walked with a teacher-mom friend, a woman just like me, going through the changes of a child in college and a teenager at home. We talked about the emptiness of a house with only one left, and how sad and lonely and strange it sometimes feels to be at home now. Alone.

Some things we cannot change. Some things we just need to trust are working out exactly as they are supposed to, even when they don’t feel that way in the moment. Some things, I know, the Universe has put in front of me for a very good reason, requiring me to pause, and think, and feel, and take a very long walk. Alone.

p.s. – Have you read my other Friday Photo essays? You might like the ones I wrote about harvest, beacons, and the world out my window.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Something – Anything – Pumpkin

Posted on November 5, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

It all started with a need for something-anything- pumpkin.

A simple request from my girl, far away in her dorm room, sent me rushing through Trader Joe’s, dodging the UCD freshmen scavenging for their Friday night snacks. Jammed up in the produce section, I can see the hunger in their eyes – already the cafeteria has tapped their taste buds out. They’re dreaming about real food, the kind mom used to make. I see their longing for the day when they can go back to their own apartments, bags of groceries ready to indulge their home-cooked fantasies.

“What are you hungry for?” I heard them ask each other. Must be freshmen. Their voices had a hollow ring to them, as if they weren’t sure a) what their new roommates would think acceptable, and b) how they would cook it like mom used to. They had the wide-eyed look that only 18-year-olds who are used to having mom do their grocery shopping get. They are the ones who linger just a bit too long in the produce section, intimidated by the choice of pre-washed bagged mixed greens or an entire head of organic red leaf. I often hesitate there myself, just in case they want some ‘mom’ advice. Sometimes they ask – usually they don’t.

I feel it in their body language, the bravado of a puffed out chest behind their shopping cart, attempting to believe that yes, they can do this. Methodically, they place their items in the bright red carts. There’s no rhythm there – that comes with years of experience navigating the aisles.

And I wonder, is my girl this girl who walks away? Does she pause over the frozen ravioli section and then casually toss two bags in her cart, only to be shut down over the myriad of red sauce choices? Does my girl scan the produce section with laser focus, or does she hope for help in the shape of a forty-something woman holding a latte and shopping list?

On a care-package mission, I turned the aisle and there it was: the pumpkin display. No one in my house craves pumpkin now that she’s gone. I toss the yellow box of pumpkin bar mix in the cart. Why not pumpkin bread, too? In it goes, without hesitation. Tears crack the corners of my eyes. Somehow, I will fit it all in the care package. I have to.

I watch the students with a wistful smile, knowing their parents might be just like me, wondering and wishing they could get a glimpse into the ordinary moments in their life as an 18-year-old away from home for the first time. The look so young. Have they ever been grocery shopping before? Did their mothers teach them to compare prices, or how to pick a ripe melon? My inner mama is surging. I feel her panic. Did I teach her before she left? Is she making her smoothies and eating enough protein?

Standing in the frozen foods section, I feel an obligation rise up in me – a sense of duty to all those moms out there. Somehow I must let them know their kid is OK, that they’re choosing the produce over the sweets and six-packs. How can I make known that they have a jacket on, and remembered their reusable grocery bags? I want to somehow tap these kids on the shoulder and beg them to just send one text, simply snap one photo of this ordinary moment – something – anything – to let their parents know they’re smiling and happy and making friends. To give them a glimpse of the extraordinariness of their life…their growing up.

But I don’t say anything – that would be creepy, I hear my daughter’s voice in my head. Instead, I squeeze my eyes together, willing back the tears, and hope that 600 miles away, some mom in a grocery store feels my call, looks into my girl’s eyes, and smiles.

I’m ready now. I can do this. The pumpkin will arrive safely, like a hug from home.

p.s. – if you’d like to make your own pumpkin bread, click here for our favorite recipe!

Jennifer Wolfe

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Friday Photo: A Day Taken For Granted

Posted on October 31, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

October, 2000

This is a day I cradle in the tender palms of my memory, a day taken for granted for its beauty, it’s fleetingness.

This is a day I likely smiled and laughed through part of, a day I possibly looked forward to and couldn’t wait to end.

This is a day when she was four and he was three and their entire futures were misty dreams before me, a day when there were no goodbyes or good lucks or glimpses of their life caught only on a screen.

This is a day of blessings, of bliss, of life pulling at my heartstrings.

This is a day of mothering, a day if only I could start again.

Friday Photos are glimpses into the extraordinary in my ordinary life. They are inspirations, remembrances and reflections that anchor this life, and honor all the brilliant moments that otherwise might pass me by.

Jennifer Wolfe

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Every Day is a Gift

Posted on October 27, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe

Getting him out of bed in the morning typically takes multiple attempts and a variety of approaches-literally and figuratively. I start with the quiet, gentle approach – silently walking in, whispering ‘good morning’ to the darkness, and try to locate his cheek amidst the tangle of blankets and pillows and an occasional small-but-furry dog. If I’m greeted warmly, I continue to whisper encouragements. If not, I retreat and try again later.

This Saturday morning was no exception – except that when I make my first ‘fly by’ attempt the sun was beginning to rise and, as he gruffly reminded me, it wasn’t a school day.

“If Cathy can get herself out of bed, load up her wheelchair and get there on time, so can you. You’re not going to let one little leg cast stop you, are you? Now get up. We’re going to be late.”

He grumbled and groaned about why we had to leave so early when the walk didn’t start til 10, but I wasn’t in the mood. Every day is a gift, I reminded him, and he’d better make the most of this one. And remember – it means everything to Cathy to have you there. And she even has a cape especially for you.

By now he was awake enough to process, and realizing the importance of his presence, cast and wheelchair and all, he scooted over and thunked his heavy left leg to the floor. “Ok, ok. Just give me a minute.”

I smiled and backed out of the room. Mission accomplished, for now.

By the time we pulled into Raley Field, all fifteen teens and parents were ready for action. The energy was palpable, and the emotions flowed synchronously with the beat. ALS is a devastating, debilitating disease, brought to national attention last summer with the infectious “Ice Bucket Challenge’ fund raising campaign. But that’s not how we know ALS. Two years ago ALS walked (or rolled) into our lives with the gift of Cathy Speck, a vivacious, feisty and blunt-in-the-best-way-possible spirit who has become both a friend and a paragon of living life every day, in every way possible.

When Cameron met Cathy at school as part of his Peer Helping class, something magical happened. What could a thirteen-year-old boy and a XXXX-something-year-old woman connect over? That’s the real gift here. It’s between them. Maybe it’s her straight talking approach and honesty about dying that intrigues him. Maybe her sarcastic, sassy sense of humor? Her positive attitude about life and living? Lately, I wonder if his ‘broken’ body and fractured dreams have offered him new insight and compassion. I’m not sure that anyone could witness her indomitable spirit and zest for life, even as she’s dying, and not want to learn from her.

I knew she had arrived as soon as I saw the half-dozen bright yellow smiley-face balloons hovering above the crowd. The kids ran for her with the gusto of a crowd smothering a rock star. She’s that beloved, I thought. This isn’t something we see every day at school. This is something extraordinary. Within minutes she called me over. “Jennifer, I have his cape,” she smiled as she handed the turquoise blue felt to me. STOP ALS, it read. We’re trying, I thought. She was ready to roll, so I quickly tied it around his neck and watched as he settled back into his wheelchair and smiled as his friends jostled to be the first to push him into the crowd.

All around us thousands of folks rolled, walked and skipped to the infield and began the triple loop of support. Banners and balloons and costumes marched around the track, following Cathy’s chorus of “Hey, hey, ho, ho, ALS has got to go”. With every pass by home plate I looked around and breathed and took it all in – the azure blue of the sky, the scent of sunscreen and happiness, the smiles and laughter and love walking and wheeling along side me. The 15-year-old boys supporting Cam as he wheeled around the first base line, Cathy’s life-long friends gently holding an umbrella over her head, Cameron’s teacher and her son mixing with parents, teachers, and kids in a sea of adoration and support and extraordinariness on an ordinary day.

Every day is a gift. It really, really is.

This post was inspired by The 13th Gift by Joanne Huist Smith, memoir about how random acts of kindness transformed her family’s bereavement and grief during the holidays. Join From Left to Write on October 28th as we discuss The 13th Gift. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Jennifer Wolfe

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