“It's the perfect time of day
It's the last day of your life
Don't let it drift away
While your heart is still racing
It's the perfect time of day.”
–Howie Day
I avoided a particular closet in my house for two years. Stacked inside were five large, plastic bins stuffed with loose papers, writing notebooks, and keepsakes I didn’t have time to file before we moved two years ago. Coincidentally, the items inside the containers were collected during the first four years of my journey to a less distracted life.
For the past two years, I’ve wanted to go through the massive collection piece by piece, determining whether it should be filed or discarded. But the task was immense and intimidating. It was much easier to avoid the closet altogether and plan on doing it another day.
‘Another day’ finally arrived in July when I was taking a month-long break from blogging and posting online to spend time with my family and focus on an on-going physical pain in my body.
I was only halfway through the first container when I was generously rewarded for taking on this monumental task. There, among the disarray, was something that didn't belong to me. It was a booklet of poems addressed to my dad. I’m not sure why I had it. I’d never seen it before.
Tucked inside was a note addressed to my father, dated 1965, right after the passing of his mother. I held the frail note gingerly, fearing it might disintegrate in my hands before I had a chance to read it.
I went back and read the first sentence of the note three times: “We wish to express our sympathy to you and your family in the going away of your mother.”
the going away
It was an unusual term for death; it sounded like she was on vacation or enduring a long hospital stay or perhaps had retreated to solitude by choice.
the going away of your mother
I couldn't get past it.
I'd gone away too. Perhaps my dad gave me this precious memento during one of his visits, and I was spread so thin, so worn down, so distracted by my maxed-out life at the time that I’d forgotten.
We can go away, even when we are here, can’t we?
I know that now.
I also know we can go away if we don’t take care of ourselves. I’ve been in enough imaging centers, heart & kidney institutes, hospitals, and doctor’s offices over the past year to see life’s fragility in ways I never wanted to see.
The sobering view has left an impression on me, often creeping into my daily thoughts and nightly dreams.
As I awaited my first visit with a pelvic pain specialist in mid-July, I had an especially memorable dream. The shutter of my bedroom window was open and my eyes were playing tricks on me. Groggily, I went to the window to get a better look. In my backyard, I saw row after row of white folding chairs. Was it a wedding? I wondered. No, no; it was nothing pleasant like that. In the dark, I frantically scribbled exactly what it was, what I didn’t want to forget come daybreak:
It said:
“Saw a sea of white folding chairs
But they were not for a celebration
They were for a funeral—my funeral
I said no. I want to live
Not die
Then I shall act like it.”
Even in my sleep, those words were written like a woman on a mission to live … a woman who did not want to go away, momentarily or permanently.
My middle-of-the-night ‘note to self’ reminded of the question my friend Kaitlin asked during my intimate birthday gathering in January. “What was your biggest lesson this year, Rachel?”she asked thoughtfully.
I didn’t even have to think. “How much I want to be here … and the importance of taking care of myself,” I said, getting choked on my words.
Although the four precious women seated around me knew about my surgeries and pain mysteries, I felt the need to further explain. “I got a text from Natalie the other day that said, ‘I love you, Mom.’ Seeing those words in a text message felt like a glimpse of the future. I could see my grown Natalie standing in the produce department of a grocery store or sitting on the couch in her apartment texting me those words – not because she had to, but because she wanted to … because I was a part of her life … an important part of her life. I want so badly to be here for that day.”
My friends nodded and wiped tears too. It appeared to be a universal hope to be here for days such as those.
I don’t think it is any coincidence that the sympathy booklet belonging to my dad contains a poem that instantly captivated my attention. I refer back to it almost every day. It says:
“Build a little fence of trust
Around today …
Fill the spaces with loving work
And therein stay.
Look not between the shelt’ring bars
Upon tomorrow,
But take whatever comes to thee
Of joy or sorrow.”
-Mary F. Butts
Build a fence of trust around today …
I have such hopes for that too.
It is a daily struggle to keep myself here, in the blessed perimeters of today—to avoid the constant urge to look ahead to tomorrow, next month, and years from now. It is a daily struggle not to worry about my children, the state of our country, my health and the health of the people I love. It’s a daily struggle to keep my brain focused on the here and now, not on the twenty tasks I need to accomplish by noon tomorrow.
“Build a fence around today,” a divine whisper says. That is the answer – not an easy one, but it is an answer.
What is required to build a fence around today? I ask myself.
Eye contact
So I look at my daughter’s face when she speaks to me.
And I am building.
Time
So I knock on her bedroom door and say, “May I come in and hang out for a bit?”
And I am building.
Inconvenience
So I say yes to her occasional Starbuck’s request before school even though it doesn’t fit in my schedule that day.
And I am building.
Sacrifice
So I participate in her interests even though they are not mine.
And I am building.
Presence
So when I am in her company, I try to be there—all there—with her.
And I am building.
Awareness
So when I speak to her, I think about my words; I listen carefully to hers; I breathe in her smell; I study her face.
And I am building.
Self-care
So I go to my weekly therapy even though the process is humbling, the pain makes me cry, and the progress is barely detectable.
And I am building.
I am building a fence of trust around today—investing in it, protecting it, holding it delicately before it disintegrates in my hands.
I finally got to the last plastic bin the other day. Although I’d wanted to clean out this massive container for two years, it wasn’t meant to happen any sooner. It was destined to happen now, when it could be appreciated as the gift it truly was.
At the very bottom of the fifth and final container, the ultimate treasure awaited me. It was a Mother’s Day booklet written in kid penmanship—the most exquisite font under the sun. My daughter had written: “My mom is special because … she's here.”
That was the year I came back.
And this is the year I decided I want to stay—right here in today.
So each day, I will build a fence of trust around it. I will keep it hydrated with eight glasses of water. I will keep it in the sunlight as much as possible. I will tend to it with love and affection. There will be weeds along the fence; I know. But I will focus on the flowers, particularly one of them blooming right in front of my eyes. This one takes my breath away. Although I’d be blessed to see the day she’s all grown up, the day I most want to be here is today.
*****************************************
My friends, when I shared a vulnerable reflection about what it means to “get better” on the of the Hands Free Revolution Facebook page recently, the comments indicated many of us share health struggles that remove us from life and diminish our hope. Although pelvic pain is not the most comfortable topic to write about, I will continue sharing to give someone else comfort or hope. Thank you for the encouragement and courage you give me to keep sharing. Many of you have been using the hashtag #onlylovetoday or #handsfreerevolution on Instagram so I can see you and your precious ones wearing the “come as you are,” “see flowers not weeds,” and “only love today” metal cuffs. It brings me tremendous joy to know the mantras I use are working so positively in your lives as well. Today is the final day to use the promo code for free domestic shipping on all items in the Hands Free Shop. Use the code: LOVESCHOOL at checkout.
Upcoming speaking event news & ticket links:
- My speaking event in Diablo, California sold out very quickly, and I am so sorry some of you were not able to get tickets. The lovely event coordinators assure me seats are expected to open up. Please email carol@cpcdanville.org to be placed on the waitlist.
- Registration is now open for my October 6th speaking event in Clarksville, TN. I will be speaking at the Tickle Me Pink Luncheon which supports the Clarksville YMCA’s After Breast Cancer program (ABC). Click here to purchase tickets.
- The ticket link for my speaking event in Chattanooga, TN on Tuesday evening, October 4th will be posted soon. This event is hosted by the MCR Foundation which provides resources for families affected by eating disorders in the Chattanooga area. Watch their website and Facebook page for ticket link coming soon.
- I am delighted to be the keynote speaker at the Spirit of Life women’s retreat in Mandan, ND on November 3rd. Click here to access the save-the-date page for this event. This is a free event and you may choose only to attend the luncheon/keynote portion of the retreat.
Thank you for walking beside me on this life-changing journey to live better & love more in the time we are given. I cherish you.
Oh how this resonates with me Rachel.
Soon to be a single mother to two amazing seven year old twins.
Their dad doesn’t want to be in our environment anymore and all I can do is think of the tomorrow’s for them that will never happen. I am pulling my thoughts back to the present, back to today and I will savor it for what it is. A gift from God to my Holden and to me. Thank you Rachel for these words today.
Dearest Michele,
The love you have for your children shines brilliantly through your words even though you are on shaky ground right now. Your strength and resolve inspire me. Sending you love, peace, and hope from my heart to yours, dear one.
Hello. My name is Lani. And, I am blessed to be the mother of a sweet little girl. She’s three. I just want to tell you that I thoroughly enjoy reading your perspective and thoughts on life. They’re brilliant.
Life is so beautiful yet fleeting. When topped with health issues it can be so overwhelming and scary. I’m sorry to hear that you have experienced personal health issues with mystery pelvic pain. I not only wanted to comment on how beautifully you convey your thoughts but, I wanted to ask you if you ever heard of Thermography? My family, my mother as well as my daughter have really benefit from this non invasive procedure. Well, our entire family really because when one is not well, we’re all not well.
If you have not heard of this I encourage you to look in to it. My family and I went to thermalimagingofoc.com
Thank you for sharing your writing with the world.
Hi Lani, I have not heard of that. I will look into right away! I am grateful you took the time to share this here where it can benefit me & anyone else who reads it! Much love and many blessings!
Feeling grounded. Thank you, Rachel for this beautiful inspirational post. Sending love your way on this beautiful, blessed summer day.
Same to you, my dear Astrid.
I try to listen to the Divine Whisperer, but, well, sometimes it is so hard. Mostly because I must stop and be still to hear that Voice.
It whispers the “yes” before I agree to one more game of Ping-pong; the “no” when a tired boy wants to stay up late but shouldn’t; the “love him” when I’m frustrated at another boy who is afraid of a storm miles away. It whispers “go ahead and cry” and even “I love you” when the fear and worry keep me up late.
Today it whispered “Build a little fence of trust around today …” I can’t imagine why.
Thanks for whispering to my soul, as you so often do, and lifting me yet again.
God’s Peace.
Today I think I needed to hear from my dear friend Bill whose comments are tiny masterpieces that remain with me indefinitely. I know because my eyes filled with tears as I read his honest and glorious truths.
Thank you so much for sharing this. I live with stage 4 metastatic melanoma a very deadly disease. Since I was diagnosed 4 years ago I have not lived for today and have tried to exclude myself from my daughter’s, aged 14 and 11, lives in hopes to protect them from my eventual death. I have told myself all these years that if they’re not close to me they won’t be as hurt when I die. But what I really a doing is hurting them today. I want to stop this way of living and #livefortoday. I so needed this. My girls so needed this. Thank you.
Precious Linda, I pray that you offer yourself grace and understanding today as you come to this profound realization. You have only been doing what you thought would be best for your daughters. You were only trying to protect them. I feel incredible joy in my heart knowing that you want to do things differently beginning today … to connect with them … to create memories with them … to listen to them & laugh with them. I can envision it in my mind. I can see that these moments of connection will bless them immensely, but they will also bless you. If you would like me to send you a copy of each of my books, I would be thrilled to do that for you and your daughters. My books are filled with tangible ways you can connect with your daughters today and create a lasting foundation of peace and security within their hearts. Just email me your address and I would be happy to get those to you. I am so thankful for you and the bravery you have displayed today. Love, Rachel rachelstafford@handsfreemama.com
Beautiful post. Always fitting….
My beautiful friend, once again your words are perfectly timed. Im not sure I would have made it throigh the last few years without your posts and books. I really must write more as well.
Be strong and take care of you.
Wendy
Oh my goodness, Wendy! It is YOU! People that have stuck with me, reading for almost six years of this life-changing journey, hold a very special place in my heart. Thank you for walking beside me all these miles. I wish I could hug you right now.
Thank you for being the best company all these miles! I have learned so much from you and will walk beside you gleefully forever.
Thank you for this today. I really especially needed THIS today. Honestly, I always need what you write. Truly I do. Sometimes…often…I don’t take the time to read it. I read this today and held back tears. Thank you. Thank you 100 times over. I appreciate you more than you will ever know.
Thank you for this. I just texted “I love you mom” to my Mother after reading that. I haven’t had the closest relationship with my Mom this past year, so after reading that, I knew it was a nudge from God to reach out to my Mom. The result, a text back saying ” I love you too daughter, thank you, you got me tearing up! have a blessed day”.
Thank you nudging me. And you have a blessed day as well Rachel!
Oh Tracie, my heart just leapt with joy see this! Thank you for bringing my words to LIFE in the most profoundly meaningful way. You have blessed me today.
Beautiful. Thank you for the reminder to live purely in the now. Our kids need that from us!
This is beautiful. It’s true that sometimes we don’t get to things, like that closet full of old papers, until we are meant to. How wonderful that you are able and open to receive the lesson of being here. May you continue to be inspired to fight, to live, to love.
Thank you for this message today I am fighting major health issues and am consumed with all the what ifs. My kids and grandkids are my universe and I want to stay here and spend time and make more memories. God really blessed me with the best!
I love this post. I need to take better care of myself too so I can be there. I am 50 with an 11 and an 8 year old so I have to last a while. 🙂 Your note from your daughter reminds me of what my daughter wrote last year in her “memories of elementary school” book at the end of 5th grade. The question was, “what do you remember most about your time in elementary school” Her answer, “my mom never missed a field trip” I know everyone isn’t able to do that, but it touched me that it meant as much to her as it did to me. 🙂
This was a beautiful post and good reminders for life. Thank you!
Thank you for this. I never get through one of your posts without crying so sometimes I just can’t read them. But, when I do feel brave enough to read a post I am always rewarded with your kind words and wisdom. Thank you for being so awesome. ?
Thank you, Chalice. I am glad you were brave and read. It feels like a hand in mine.
Love you, dear friend. May we always be learning–alone and together– what it means to listen to ourselves, to ask questions, to know that our bodies and minds and heart are always speaking. So thankful to walk this journey with you.
I love you, Kaitlin. I am thankful you asked me that question that night — that you have the kind of heart and mind that thinks of asking people questions that matter. And to have you influence Avery’s life through music, faith, and presence, is just the greatest blessing.
What a wonderful essay. It’s as if you were speaking to my personal situation.
Thank you.
I wanted to let you know how much I truly love reading ALL of your posts. Some blogs will have something memorable or really good maybe once a month. But every single one of your posts is moving, inspiring and written so beautifully. I too suffer chronic pain from two herniated discs in my back. I am unable to take anything because I became addicted to the medication I had been prescribed for years. So now I deal with the pain and addiction. Thank you for helping me to live a present and kind life!!
So loved reading this Brought back memories of my own that l have tucked away .in a box.A lot of momentous bring back memories for us .Thankyou .
Beautiful heartfelt words, I read and re-read this post, pausing over the poem in particular. Thank you for sharing your journey and voicing things many of of gloss over too often.
This is so, so beautiful Rachel, thank you for sharing. “Build a little fence of trust around today… fill the spaces with loving work and therein stay…” it makes me think about thoughtfully choosing what most closely fills Today. So often we can get swept away by things we didn’t really choose. Thank you for your reminders to purposely choose special moments of connection with our loved ones… eye contact is one that I sadly neglected for a long time, and remembering it has been huge and so helpful, for forcing myself to slow down, and for showing my family that I’m listening, and that I care. Your words hit home every time… thank you, friend. So sorry to hear that you’re still experiencing pain. I admire you for being brave and sharing your light and your hope through your own struggles. Praying for you and wishing you well:)
Rachel,
I have shared your journey from being a mom who always “was too busy to” to being a mom that “wants to help whenever possible.” I don’t always get it right, but I try. I’m always inspired. by your blog.
Thanks for sharing your frailties and letting us know that we’re not alone in the struggle.