“Ripples
of My Father”
I never
heard my Father say a bad word about anyone.
This is really quite amazing when you consider that I was
thirty-four years old when he passed away.
(I do not count the occasional “You donkey!” to a referee
while watching a football game!) I
cannot actually recall him using the words, “If you don’t have
something nice to say about someone, don’t say anything at all,”
yet it was the way he lived. I
do remember him softly saying, “You never really know what is going
on in a person’s life or why they act the way they do.” He was a
peacemaker and a gentleman, and maybe he was born that way.
My Dad was three years old when his mother died.
My grandfather was unable to take care of five little children.
An Aunt raised the two babies, but my Dad and his two older
siblings were placed in an orphanage.
My grandfather sometimes visited on Sundays.
When my Dad was about eleven years old my grandfather remarried
and brought them home from the orphanage.
We heard stories from my Aunt – my Dad’s older sister -
about the “wicked stepmother” and the cruelty she inflicted on the
children. After a few
years my grandfather sent her on her way and the children remained at
home, taking care of one another.
My grandfather died when I was five, but by all accounts he was
a stern and difficult man.
Yet I never heard my Dad complain or say anything at all about
his early life. What I
know about it I learned from other people.
I remember asking him questions about the orphanage and about
his stepmother, and he would always say, “That’s in the past,”
and that would be the end of the discussion.
We had our share of family problems 
through
the years -
things that happened with my
brothers or me that were difficult to get through - things
that were heartbreaking for our family, yet through it all we received
unconditional love from my Dad. (Mom, too – but that’s another
story!) He was always
there as our support, always believing in us.
We never heard an “I told you so”.
His quiet presence told us he loved us more than words ever
could.
I remember standing in front of him with report cards.
He would ask, “Did you do your best?”
I don’t think he cared if the mark was a 70 or a 95.
If we could honestly answer that we did our best, he was proud
of us, and told us so. We
learned respect, and we learned to respect ourselves.
Dad was diagnosed with cancer eight years before he died.
They said he was a medical miracle because he was never
expected to live that long. He
had multiple surgeries, endured oral and intravenous chemotherapy, was
in and out of the hospital for treatments and tests… and I never
heard him complain - not once. He
would be physically sick from the affects of the chemo one minute, and
the next a relative or friend would be calling to find out how he was
doing and in high spirits he’d answer, “Pretty good today.”
In between the surgeries and treatments he led a relatively
normal life and he was always positive.
Not too long ago I realized that so many of the things I read
and “learn” about now I first learned from my Dad.
Many of us are trying every day to be a better person, to lead
a deeper more meaningful life, to be kind to others, to focus on the
positive, to live with gratitude, to love unconditionally.
I don’t know where my Dad learned all of these things, but he
lived them each and every day. He
taught me more by example than any book, seminar or workshop ever
could.
When he died I listened to stories from relatives, friends and people
who were strangers to me, tell me how much they loved my Dad, how he
had helped them, what he meant to them.
I think he would have been surprised.
I do not think he had any idea how much his life – the way he
lived his life – affected others.
We think our lives would be so different, so much easier if
only “they” would change. “They”
could be our spouse, parents, children, relatives, boss, politicians,
people of other countries, etc. My
father taught me that my focus should be on the way I live my own
life, for like a pebble dropped into the water, who we are and the
things we say and do affect everyone around us.
What kind of “ripples” are you making?
Quote
Of The Month 
" You must be the change
you want to see in the world."
Mahatma Gandhi
Upcoming Special Events/Classes
ART/Master Class
- June 26-28, 2009
Are you ready to take the next step on your journey?
This class will open you to a higher frequency of energy
and allow you to attune others to the power of Reiki.
"Acoustic Music to Feed Your Soul"
with Pam & Donald T. McMahon
Second Annual Concert to Benefit Hawk Creek Wildlife Center
Friday, May 15, 2009
THANK YOU to everyone who attended!
We raised $1,019 for Hawk Creek
and a good time was had by all!
"Integrative Reiki Breath" - A
Workshop"
with Pam & Donald T. McMahon
Saturday, May 16, 2009
The workshop was an overwhelming success!
Here are a few comments...
"I was absolutely thrilled with this year’s workshop. I learned a great deal, practiced enough to feel proficient and met new people and connected to some old friends. And I very dearly love Pam and Don. They are two very awesome
lightworkers." (Nancy)
"I thought the workshop was awesome! What I liked most was the chance to work directly with another person for a sustained period. The work on the table was really pivotal for me. This should be an annual event!" (Carole)
"After the week we had, the workshop was exactly what we needed. Can't think of anyway to improve it. We would do it again." (Diana)
"Sharing one-on-one when we paired with a partner was a beautiful experience. The loving energy in the room was amazing. The workshop was intense, but extremely rewarding." (Arlene)
"I got so much out of this workshop and I say THANK YOU! The level of compassion that the workshop is presented with, and the community it is shared with, WOW, I'm not sure how to quite put it into words." (Myra)
Thank
you to EVERYONE who attended! Your participation,
intentions and energy were all instrumental in the success of the day!
Reiki Circle
First Wednesday of Every Month - 7:00 p.m. - Mystic Wolf Healing Arts
Everyone Welcome! Details Here
