Welcome to Living a Life of Gratitude.
I'm Sarah Wiseman.
Miracle Glasses.
In late 2012,
I am diagnosed with a melanoma.
There has been a new strange mole on my shoulder since the 4th of July and now it is early October.
The mole,
Slightly odd,
A little worrisome,
Was removed yesterday and the lab results are back already.
The nurse on the phone doesn't say,
It will be okay.
Instead she says,
I'm sorry.
I sit with the news trying to figure out what,
How,
Why.
None of these questions come back with any answers.
On the 6th of July,
My mother went into ICU where she remained for 6 weeks.
On the 25th of July,
My daughter had scoliosis surgery from which she is still recovering.
During this time of medical crisis in our family,
The mole grew.
And even as I sit with the news,
I am astonished by my physical reaction.
My stomach rebels.
My hands become clammy.
My head spins and fear implodes within me.
At the same time,
I realize I am having nearly the same reaction I had during my first near-death experience in 2000.
There's this sense of blessing,
Blessing,
Blessing over everything.
What a life this is.
What a life I have been given.
I'm ready to go if it's my time,
If this is my calling.
I feel complete,
Drenched and infused with the blessings I have had.
But oh,
I want to stay.
Not for myself,
But for my family,
My partner,
My work.
When I look at my life with my miracle glasses on,
It's all been one big miracle after another.
Even when I forget to put those rosy tints on,
It's still been so many days and months and years and decades of awesome.
Not every single moment has been great.
I've suffered my share of anger,
Fear and pain just like anyone else.
But the things I have experienced,
The situations I have encountered,
The people I have met,
The relationships I have been in,
The emotions I have felt,
All I have seen and known and existed in,
The good,
The bad,
The all of it.
This is human life lived big.
Now compared to some,
You might say I've lived small.
I haven't yet traveled much.
I haven't yet been rich.
I'm average in looks and figure.
I've mostly been a mother.
My work,
My true work,
Has only arrived to me in the past decade,
A flurry of writing and teaching.
I've never bungee jumped or traveled to India or visited Machu Picchu or any of those things a person might have on a bucket list.
But even in this small container,
This smaller,
Quieter container of my life,
The miracles that have come to pass are rich and full and astounding.
When I think about the doctor appointment ahead in which more will be determined,
I veer again into panic.
Again,
It's not for myself.
I have been abundantly blessed,
Extravagantly gifted.
But there is so much I would like to support and love,
The relationships in my life,
The soul crossings that are my karma.
For these people,
For my children and partner,
I want to be here.
For my clients,
My work,
I want the same.
Life,
What an oddity,
What a mystery.
This consciousness,
This heart,
This body.
I'd like to experience more.
On days like this where death is brought to our door,
We can choose fear or we can choose to put on our miracle glasses and look at things another way,
Even when it gets personal,
Even when it's your own mortality nudging you in the arm.
This gift of existence is beyond comprehension.
This chance to live as divine soul in earth body and all of the lessons and experiences and emotions and soul growth this entails.
I head out to the trees and open my arms wide and I say it out loud and I say it clearly,
Thank you,
Thank you,
And more,
Thank you.
Put on your miracle glasses,
Review every blessing in your life,
Not the things,
Not even the people,
But all of the millions of experiences you have had over time.
Say thank you until you are done saying thank you,
Then say thank you some more.
