Lately I’ve been intrigued, inspired, by one dear old woman who comes tri-weekly into our fitness facility. Parkinson’s is crippling her and consuming her very life breath. There are days when her feet don’t work, when her trembling hands can’t grasp her bags, when her throat is restricting as if someone’s choking her. There are days when her landlord refuses to take care of her constantly flooding apartment, when her taxi service forgets about her and leaves her stranded for hours. And yet, each time you ask her, she smiles and says she’s good. “It’s always a great day!” she says, and her face a bright sunbeam, shows it. She has learned the secret to joy. Thanks.
No matter how tough life is, no matter how much it seems she has nothing left to lose, she continues to smile, continues to give thanks.
She giggles as a handsome 45-year-old man in his work out clothes notices her. And she comments on some teenage boy’s great butt. But in everything, she gives thanks. She enjoys the simple things. She notices the small things. And she always give thanks. This is such beauty. Such challenge. The secret to joy, is thanks.
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