Invite Her (my thoughts)

I love reading this. With a little broken heart . I am often the uninvited one. Years ago I asked some one why I was left out and she said, “it’s so hard because we feel like you miss out and we have to repeat and make sure the lights are just right .. It’s a lot of trouble and it’s easier not to have you come”
That hit hard and, for awhile, I avoided gatherings because I didn’t want to be ‘too much trouble’ but recently I decided that I will be the one to invite and include instead of waiting on others.

“Too much trouble”.
Not at all.

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10225706552234173&id=1341224104&sfnsn=mo

Walk With Love

I’m a little late in posting this but it’s been on my heart so much that I know I have to write about it to get peace.

Last Thursday morning about 11,I walked out of Ross and grabbed the wall as I stumbled.
My son had walked ahead to load our packages and was going to come back and help me but I thought I could make it on my own.
I’m stubborn like that. 🤗

The woman that has held the door open for me came up to me …
She was wearing a mask and I was not.
I couldn’t read her lips, but I could read her eyes which showed compassion and understanding.
The universal body language of kindness was clear.
She offered her arm and I gratefully linked my hand in her elbow and we walked together maybe ten feet before my son met us and took my arm to lead me the rest of the way to his truck.

This woman stepped forward to help me.. but more than that. She saw me and acknowledged me..
I’ve noticed something .. since I’ve had this injury which has affected my gait.. and for a short time, forced me to use a walker and then a crutch… that people are uncomfortable with disability, with injuries, with “differences”.
I’ve watched people avoid eye contact.. the same people that once came out of their way to talk to me, have acted as if I was invisible suddenly.

I get it. I really do. Sometimes people think whatever is wrong with you might be contagious.
One of my wheelchair bound clients told me once that people will talk to his wife as if he was no longer a person in his own right..”what would he like to have?”to which she would reply “I don’t know.. why don’t you ask HIM?”

So that Thursday when the woman offered her arm to help me walk, she really gave much more.
She gave me hope in the human race, she gave me validation that I was still me, and she gave me assurance of what I’ve always believed… That when you touch the body, you reach the soul.

She didn’t know who I was and she didn’t care.. All she knew was that I needed help and she stepped forward.
She didn’t know that I had just finished with Phu Lam and was extra wobbly from a hard training session.
She didn’t know about my Covid journey and how I was fighting to get my body and health back… She was willing to give and I was so glad to recieve.
If she sees this-or if someone knows her and tells her- please contact me .. I would love to tell her “thank you” for choosing to walk with Love!

walkwithlove #writingmyheartout

Stones

And all I know
For absolutely certain
Is that I do believe
Everything
Creates a ripple effect
And I will choose
To caste my stone
Love
Mercy
Compassion
Courage
Hope
Patience
Joy
Acceptance
And just like a
Mirror reflection
Moonlight upon the water
I will receive
What I’ve given
Over and over
In Abundance
Extravagantly
Generously
All because I
Choose to believe
That there is enough
Love to go around
To give and give
And give again
Until it overflows

Jeanna’ Mead-written October 10,2016 after talking till midnight and a weekend filled with insight.

Messy Self

I’m sharing this here… Convicted by a book I’m reading, Mary Katherine Backstrom book Holy Hot Mess which I discovered because of Amy Weatherly .

This picture was taken in my son’s truck.. as he was driving me to see the doctor again during my Covid journey.

What you don’t see is the knee brace on my left leg.
. Or the walker in my back of the truck… You don’t see the frustrating moments as I tried to balance and fix my hair, brush my teeth, do my makeup…
I look at this and think “I really need to get my brows done’ and I realize it’s too hard to walk into any place and get them done right now. That will just have to wait.

When I really look at this picture though, really look at it… I see my son rearranging his work schedule to take me to the doctor..
I feel his strong hand supporting my back while he helps me get from the house down the sidewalk.
I see the eyes of a woman that knows she’s loved despite the mess she’s in right now.
I am only showing y’all a glimpse but I know what isn’t being seen and I know what the camera doesn’t catch.
It’s a holy hot mess and it’s the truth. #writingmyheartout #holyhotmess #damnstraight #Covidjourney

Overwhelmed With Love

I watched this last night and was struck by the truth he spoke which made me remember the words of one of my favorite poets, Maya Angelou.

‘People will forgot what you said.
People will forget what you did.
But people will always remember how you made them feel.”

That’s it.. so simple and so pure, yet so hard for so many of us.

While all that is going on with the world today it’s easy to think we are right and others are wrong.. dead wrong. It’s easy to pass judgement and throw stones and make remarks… It’s harder to overwhelm people with love, which is what we are supposed to do

“The way we make people feel”

Tears roll down my cheeks even as I write these words.

How have I made people feel? Have they felt overwhelmed with love or do they feel as if I’m putting them down, pointing my finger, bashing their choices?

I know how I’ve been made to feel

I have felt excluded.
I’ve felt condemned.
I’ve felt isolated.
I’ve felt hurt .

And you know how I’ve chosen to react? By going into a safe place and choosing to guard my heart, to create peace and to love my way .

But that’s not what is really best in so many ways because I tend to go to extremes.

I build walls.
I make excuses.
I hurt others.

Not intentionally, of course, but in building the walls, I shut out people that might need extra love and compassion, in making excuses, I withhold invitations and don’t accept them neither and in my way of protecting my own heart from hurt, I wind up hurting others.

“You may be right, but your approach is not right.”

I let this sink in..I hope you do, too.

We should speak and live the truth in such a way that it’s overwhelmed with love.

Because it doesn’t matter how right if we don’t have love. It doesn’t matter what we say, what matters is how we make others feel.

Do they feel loved?
Do they feel welcomed?
Do they feel accepted?
Do they feel valued and respected?

People will forget what you post on Facebook and social media, people will forget what you worn, what you drove, whether you did this or not… But people will always, always remember how you made them feel .

So whether I’m right or wrong, I want people to feel love … coming from me, coming from God, because He loved me so much and He says very clearly,  “love one another as I have loved you.”

He doesn’t say,

“Love those that do the same things you do’
Or ” Love those that are right.”
Or ” Love those that are just like you.”

No.

He says ” Love like I do”

No matter what. Period.

Right or wrong.

Love .

Overwhelming love.

That’s always the right approach… Kinda like Jesus wants us to be.


#walkwithlove #writingmyheartout #myownwords

More of My Story

I’m reposting this from my friend. Ruthie Needs Coffee , because while I’m still on my journey with Covid.. I am fully aware of how blessed I am and determined to take even better care of my body and my soul.

“Oh hi this is your friendly reminder that natural immunity to COVID exists*; ignoring natural immunity is ethically, medically, and scientifically wrong, and informed consent is the bedrock of medical practice.

There are a whole lot of unvaccinated immune people who present a COVID threat to no one.

Language that says that any person is the enemy rather than the virus itself is reprehensible and should be condemned.

*Despite what some have claimed, there are over a dozen studies demonstrating that natural immunity is as strong if not better than vax immunity. Happy to share references if you need them.”

I’ve felt that certain people have judged decision and others have chosen to avoid me because of my choices. That’s okay. because as I’ve learned I’m not meant for everyone and everyone isn’t meant to be my friend, my client, my circle. That’s why I see treasure the ones that are. Down the line, in a few years time or sooner. We will learn more about the vaccinations. Let’s just be kind and walk with Love…

Holy Hot Mess, too!

The reason I don’t “borrow” books from the library or from friends.. words grab my attention and I begin writing in the margins and underlining paragraphs..
Years ago, Janet Mary Rozdil Moltzan , shared these wise words that actually gave me peace instead of anxiety, and taught me to let go “you’re not in control.. you never have been and you never will be”

That feels RIGHT… I’m only on this ride.. doing the best I can and letting go of the illusion that I’m in control or perfect

I’ve learned during my Covid journey just how imperfect I am and how messy life can be .., and you know what, I’m really glad I’m on this journey.. it’s not the road I would have chosen but this route sure has bought out the best and the worst in many ways.. It’s changed my views and made me stronger in many ways but not strong enough to resist the urge to write in brand new books!

Feeling With Both Hands. (sharing stories from another)

My friend, Anna Baker, had this on her wall .. and , as I read this, my heart knew I needed to share his story and tell parts of my own Mema story.

The day before my beloved Mema went to glory, she ordered -yes, ORDERED-me to go to Minyards and get groceries. I told her, ‘Momma, don’t you DARE die while I’m gone.” and she promised me she wouldn’t.
Like this guy in the story, I was in tears buying what I knew she wanted-cabbage, peppers, onions, dry beans and bacon,

I tried my best to avoid eye contact with anyone so I wouldn’t be engaged in talking and I rushed back to her house and started cooking.


The aroma of pinto beans, meatloaf, cabbage and cornbread filled the house as I wiped tears from my eyes and struggled to do what I had been raised to do.


” People are going to come to say ‘goodby’ to me, they gotta have food to eat.”


” Yes, Mema, I’ll make sure there is plenty of food to eat. “


Part of my heart was breaking and the other part was going through the motions.. doing what I knew she wanted.
” You did good, Jeanna’, the house smells good.. people can come now. “

Whatever else life has bought me, I remember her squeezing my hand and telling me that I had done good.

I’m a toucher just like her.. it is apparent to anyone that sees me, even complete strangers.. and I’ve been known to “pull a Mema” and reach out and hug someone, brush tears away, grasp the hands of a person because I can sense they are longing for a touch that says ‘you are good.. you are seen.. you matter”

When you’re out and about, be open and willing to look at the people near you, they just might be in your presence for a good reason-either to give or to recieve.

Be like my Mema… Feel with both hands!

“The day my father died, I was at the grocery store buying bananas.

I remember thinking to myself, “This is insane. Your dad just died. Why the hell are you buying bananas?”

But we needed bananas. We’d be waking up for breakfast tomorrow morning, and there wouldn’t be any bananas—so there I was.

And lots of other stuff still needed doing too, so over the coming days I would navigate parking lots, wait in restaurant lines, and sit on park benches; pushing back tears, fighting to stay upright, and in general always being seconds from a total, blubbering, room-clearing freak out.

I wanted to wear a sign that said: I JUST LOST MY DAD. PLEASE GO EASY.

Unless anyone passing by looked deeply into my bloodshot eyes or noticed the occasional break in my voice and thought enough to ask, it’s not like they’d have known what’s happening inside me or around me. They wouldn’t have had any idea of the gaping sinkhole that had just opened up and swallowed the normal life of the guy next to them in the produce section.

And while I didn’t want to physically wear my actual circumstances on my chest, it probably would have caused people around me to give me space or speak softer or move more carefully—and it might have made the impossible, almost bearable.

Everyone around you; the people you share the grocery store line with, pass in traffic, sit next to at work, encounter on social media, and see across the kitchen table—they’re all experiencing the collateral damage of living. They are all grieving someone, missing someone, worried about someone. Their marriages are crumbling or their mortgage payment is late or they’re waiting on their child’s test results, or they’re getting bananas five years after a death and still pushing back tears because the loss feels as real as it did that first day.

Every single human being you pass by today is fighting to find peace and to push back fear; to get through their daily tasks without breaking down in front of the bananas or in the carpool line or at the post office.

Maybe they aren’t mourning the sudden, tragic passing of a parent, but wounded, exhausted, pain-ravaged people are everywhere, everyday stumbling all around us—and yet most of the time we’re fairly oblivious to them:

Parents whose children are terminally ill.
Couples in the middle of divorce.
People grieving loss of loved ones and relationships.
Kids being bullied at school.
Teenagers who want to end their lives.
People marking the anniversary of a death.
Parents worried about their depressed teenager.
Spouses whose partners are deployed in combat.
Families with no idea how to keep the lights on.
Single parents with little help and little sleep.

Everyone is grieving and worried and fearful, and yet none of them wear the signs, none of them have labels, and none of them come with written warnings reading, I’M STRUGGLING. BE NICE TO ME.

And since they don’t, it’s up to you and me to look more closely and more deeply at everyone around us: at work or at the gas station or in the produce section, and to never assume they aren’t all just hanging by a thread. Because most people are hanging by a thread—and our simple kindness can be that thread.

We need to remind ourselves just how hard the hidden stories around us might be, and to approach each person as a delicate, breakable, invaluable treasure—and to handle them with care.

As you make your way through the world today, people won’t be wearing signs to announce their mourning or to alert you to the attrition or to broadcast how terrified they are—but if you look with the right eyes, you’ll see the signs.

There are grieving people all around you.

Go easy.

  • John Pavlovitz

Shadow

It’s been a long time
Too long
And she feels like a shadow
Of her self
As if she’s been waiting
Far too long
On the sidelines
Of her own life

She needed the pause
The chance to be still
To ponder and to pray

Let go and give away
Many of the things
She never wanted
In the first place

So here she is
Rising back
Like a phoenix
Like beauty from the ashes

It’s time
She can feel it
Down inside
Overflowing

She’ll step out of it the shadows
Back into the light
Where she belongs

Just like she was created to be
So long ago

writingmyheartout #jeannasoul #myownwords #musicandmassage

August 3 -start the journey

I’m finding out just how blessed I am to have the small circle of friends I do and how blessed my daughter, Kateley Lyons and son in law, Geoffrey Lyons are to be part of this community in Rockwall.
While my Soldier Boy is in the hospital and I can’t help like I want, friends have organized a meal train for Kateley and my bundles.
My 925 partner, Cari Foote , drove all the way to my house with vitamins, tynenol and the fruit that I craved.
I’ve been lifted up in prayer by friends and clients, sent songs to make me smile and when I felt discouraged, I remembered who I am and what matters to me!
I’ve got an amazing team of therapists with me, and I’m pulling on my boots…
Covid is a force to be reckoned with but let me tell you about my Jesus!