In this day and age of shop ’till you drop holiday shopping, I often struggle with giving the “right” gift. You know the type: the gifts that make you feel warm inside as you watch them open it up. They are filled with your love and, you hope, that the person who is on the receiving end will feel that love and know just how much thought you put into it.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t always go the way you hope and the thought isn’t always what counts in some people’s minds. Fortunately, I’m not hanging with many of those sorts of people – or I’m not aware that any are currently on my Christmas list these days.

It’s all too easy to go online and order up the items off of a person’s wish-list. All it takes is a few minutes and Visa or Mastercard. Although I have received and loved some lovely store bought gifts from the heart, many of my favorite gifts were handcrafted. A few of these include a handmade quilt, a framed photo highlighting a special occasion, a handcrafted mug, quilted placemats, a lovely homemade purse, a portrait drawn while I sat and watched, a bracelet made from safety pins and colored beads, and that special rose that was picked from the garden then delivered with a warm smile and hug.

Gifts from that heart mean so much when you are the recipient. When you are the giver, they really light up the vulnerable side of you that fears you’re “not good enough.” Well, I’m taking a chance this year with a few of my loved ones. If you happen to be on the receiving end of them, please know that I put a lot of time, energy, and LOVE into these. I hope that you will love them. If you don’t, I hope you will love that I tried to share a side of myself that is really special to me; I hope you will recognize the thought. It really does count.

Last night, I posed a question on Ask.com. By morning, I had several responses to my question. The jest was that finding a dead hummingbird on my path was symbolic of nothing more than the fact that life and death happen. However, the real question I have been pondering has to do with what hummingbirds symbolize for me on a very personal level. I did not include the fact that my stepfather, who was known for humming all the time, was associated with hummingbird. When a hummingbird comes visiting, it is like he is saying “hello” or coming to check in on us. With this in mind, you can probably see why I was a little taken back in finding this delicate bird just lying on the pavement in front of me.

What could it mean?
I could not let go of this question during this morning’s meditation. So I decided to meditate on it instead of trying to push it off. In his last months of live, my stepfather really identified with Garth Brooks’ song Live Like You are Dying. Even before he was diagnosed with Lymphoma, he lived in this way. It was just more of a conscious thing while he was fighting for his life.

I reflected on this. Life is precious and we never know when we will take our last breath. Therefore, this little hummingbird will serve as a reminder to savor the sweetness of life, appreciate all of the beauty all around, change course as rapidly and often as needed, and to utilize the all strength and resiliency than we posses to heal.

Keeping all this in mind, I detoured on my way to work. I parked my car not far from where I’d encountered my little friend and retraced my footsteps until I found him. He was right where I’d left him: just off the beaten path in the pine needles and leaves. I put him in a little box with the plan to bury him in my front yard, along with a purple flower bush that my friend, Cindy has in her yard. The hummingbirds seem to love the nectar in the little purple flowers it has and my feeder always seems to be empty (either from imaginary hummingbirds or evaporation).

A bit later in the morning, I read something about hummingbirds‘ hearts stopping in the cold of the night but coming back as the day heats back up. I went out to my car to take the lid off of the box and open the windows to my car – just in case.

It’s only Wednesday, but the week has already begun to wear on me. I woke up to the chime of myMAN’s alarm and suddenly realized it was not Saturday. Not good. After he left (or maybe before), the disappointment of a stiffer and stiffer body started up again. The poor me melancholy-mite resumed its burrowing under my skin. Sniffle.

After surviving yet another kid-drop (I fear the task of crossing the 3 lanes of traffic to enter the school parking lot will kill someone one of these days), I made a b-line to Peets. There, I ran into School-mom-extraordinaire. She was moving slowly and, when I inquired, I was humbled by her story of surgery and related complications. Mentally, I slapped my arm in an effort to knock a little sense of reality into the melancholy-mite that has been burrowing under my skin.

Yup. I broke my toe, my foot hurts, and now my back is starting up it’s uncomfortableness too. But it’s just a minor setback; indeed, it’s nothing I cannot handle.

If you have a similar experience to share, please do. I’m sure we all could benefit.

I love to be around others. I guess you could say that I am a people person. Making others laugh, or simply smile, brings me joy.

It’s not that I need them in order to be happy, as my late husband once thought. It’s not that at all; my happiness comes from deep within. Being around others just gives me more reason to access it. Of course, I too have moments where melancholy or neediness takes hold.

I love to share my happiness with others. By giving it away, I end up with even more. Sometimes I feel so young, childish even. I want to turn cartwheels or hang from the bars. There is a feeling of being ALIVE that I get when I goof off, or play in this manner. And being alive is something I don’t take for granted….

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