Throughout my life, I experienced moments of clarity that occurred without fanfare or expectation and illuminated my future: moments of insight that arrived unbidden and surprised me with their power.
At fourteen, rather than going home after the church youth meeting as instructed by our parents, five friends and I took a joyride through the countryside in an old Ford. I climbed into the back seat with the Anderson sisters as we defied parental authority and took a joyride through a lake-tinged night.
The newly-licensed driver, the oldest among us, chattered nonstop, her ponytail swishing as she turned her head to look around, waved her hands for emphasis and ignored warning signs about an upcoming curve.
The sisters — made anxious by the speed, the darkness and the disapproval we’d face should our parents discover this crazed ride — held hands and worried in silence. But a sudden understanding liberated me and filled me with anticipation: I had lived my life based on the expectations and conventions of others; but as I traveled into my future, I would have the power of choice. My decisions, wise or foolish, would decide my future. Sensing my coming independence, I laughed aloud in the window-wind of the back seat.
At twenty, I walked across the grounds of the Wyoming State Training School with my special-needs charges: a group of happy, chattering female residents. We were returning to the ward where I worked and they lived after attending a 4th of July party where everybody danced every dance with total joy and abandon. We strolled beneath the fluttering leaves of large ash trees that filtered the light of a mellow moon and softened the lines of the institutional buildings we passed.
My mind preoccupied with thoughts of a recent break-up with a boyfriend I’d once thought perfect, full of self doubt and bleakness, I hardly noticed when Yvonne, a large woman with garbled speech, multiple disabilities and the mental age of a child, moved to my side, put an arm around me, smiled broadly and pointed at the gentleness of the glowing moon. Then, in half-swallowed words I had learned to interpret, she said, “I love you, Mom.”
In that instant, I knew as surely as I’d ever known anything, that throughout my life love would come to me from many different sources, that I would love and be loved in return. I slid my arm around Yvonne as we walked together through the shimmering night.
At sixty, sweltering in the heat and humidity of a Midwest summer, I sat on a chair shaded by an over-arching pecan tree, glad my husband Joel and our daughter Jenny were fitting and cementing stones to form a patio, while I had the easier task of entertaining grandchildren.
One child sat on my lap holding a picture book he wanted to hear “one more time, please, please, please,” while a toddler, fiercely determined, scrabbled and squeezed onto my lap as well, demanding “Me, too!”
I opened Grahame Green’s Jabberwocky and began to read.
When I married Joel, I immediately liked and became friends with his mostly grown children. Then, as they had children, I became a grandparent, responding, as grandparents do, with patience, pleasure, and love.
But always, unconsciously, I held something back, kept a part of myself in reserve, felt I was an interloper. Then, on this heat-slick day, holding two sticky boys on my lap, smelling their sun-warmed hair, I realized I had never been happier, that I loved and would protect these children and their siblings, that I was as totally committed to them as I would be if my blood ran through their veins.
Such moments of enlightenment don’t come to me often, but when they do, they enrich my life.
Awwwwww…
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I can hear you saying that very thing in response to me, Carolyn. You made me smile.
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Perfect. Nicely said.
Favorite line: I laughed aloud in the window-wind of the back seat.
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Oh, Wayne, that is my favorite line as well. I thought it captured perfectly my exhilaration as I sensed my coming independence. Thank you for agreeing.
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I’ve had these moments, at least I think I have – I must have, right? But I don’t recall. I’m glad that you did and that you shared.
Thank you
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So good to hear from you, Maggie. Yes, I’m sure you must have had similar moments in which you learned something about yourself. I’m glad you enjoyed mine.
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Love this piece Janet. Insightful, reflective and beautifully written.
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Thank you, QP. I wondered how it would be received and am glad you took the time to tell me how it made you feel.
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I think this means that many people agree with QP and Eye 🙂
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I think it does. Whew!
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I love your writing, as you well know, since I have expressed my appreciation several times (At least I hope I did!). I think these moments of enlightenment and clarity come to us when we are feeling centered, peaceful and loved.
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Yes, you have expressed your appreciation in the past, Diane. Thank you. I like the thought in the last sentence of your comment and see the truth in it.
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I love reflections. As I grow older, and wiser, I come to appreciate the past experiences from a different perspective. Excellent post, Janet. 🌷
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I agree, Gail, that aging helps us see our past more clearly — and more kindly. Good to hear from you.
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Blessings, Janet. Thank you for your friendship. I treasure it. 🌷
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As I do yours, Gail.
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This was lovely. One of the frustrating aspects of being a parent–as well as having two of my own–is that we may not receive those teachable moments when we are taught by others; indeed, we must go through something, experience it ourselves, for that lesson/idea to become part of us. That I was stupid enough in college to get into my boyfriend’s tiny Celica with several others, all high or drunk, that we drove to the beach late one night, passing cars at 85 mph, that I lived to tell it to my children…is a pure miracle (there was no accident, thank God). How many times had I told this story to my children, begged them not to be stupid like I had been? Millions. It was only years later when we got the call that one of our children had been pulled over, taken to jail, and forced to stay over night–said child had been drinking, thought they were OK, got in the car anyway, but was pulled over after 5 minutes on the road–that I realized sometimes we learn through experience, not simply when others may try to “teach us.” Those hard lessons changed this child’s life as it did ours; thankfully no one was hurt. As with you, that shed light on my future (and my child’s). Beautifully written. ❤
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I appreciate the way you open your mind and heart and pour them into your comments, karenlee. Yours is a wonderful story that makes an important point. Thank you for sharing it.
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Thank you so much. ❤
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absolutely beautiful.- it is so often just theses kind of moments that shed some important lesson or realization, isn’t it?
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i’m glad, and not surprised, that you have experienced such moments as well. They are, indeed, illuminating.
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yes-and i never saw them coming!!
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I love, love, love your poetic prose. One again, you have touched my heart.
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What a lovely comment: poetic prose. I’m glad you responded to my words, Shelley; thank you for telling me.
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Lovely thoughts Janet!
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Thank you, Katyi.
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Thank you for making some things clear in my life, by reading about yours.
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That is a lovely comment on my post, Jess. Thank you for commenting and letting me know.
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Hi Janet…
Once again….beautiful, honest writing. Thanks so much for sharing. Kathy Shirley
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Kathy, I miss you, and I’m having when we connect, however briefly, through my blog. I’m glad you liked this piece.
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❤ "In that instant, I knew as surely as I’d ever known anything, that throughout my life love would come to me from many different sources, that I would love and be loved in return." ❤ This is a beautifully written piece and this part I've quoted — I've shared that revelation and it's quite precious.
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Martha, I am pleased you found a line in this piece that had a special resonance for you. I’ve never forgotten the evening I experienced it and the joy I felt when the realization hit me. It is, indeed, quite precious.
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What has been amazing in life is experiencing that over and over. I’ve written about it a few times in my posts, you know, events, moments when it happened. ❤
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I’m sorry I missed those posts. Two days ago I wrote a poem about an experience a couple of years ago and realized it could have been included in my post. I suppose it never stops happening.
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Three beautiful reflections. Window wind brings me back to senior year riding in the back seat of my friend’s Mercury with the rear window (not the side windows) open. I don’t think they make cars like that anymore.
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I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a car like that, Marjorie, let alone riding in one. I’m glad my writing brought the memory back to you.
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Thanks for sharing these moments with us Janet. In all the things that whirl around us, there are those moments that com e to define us. Sometimes, we aren’t paying attention. You were and that was a good thing. Your life has been enriched and you have enriched ours by passing these lessons onto us.
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I’m sure such moments have slipped by without my notice, Dan, but some did catch my attention. This week I wrote a poem about another experience I had a year or two ago and realized it could have been part of this post. I don’t know why I remember some so vividly.
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Thank you for the memories. I must remind myself to treasure the smallest piece of love.
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I agree, Audrey. We all must remind ourselves to do so.
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I love these moments because they’re not the “biggies.” No one is getting married, or dying, or birthing babies. They are just insights–but monumental ones–into life. Beautiful:).
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You are so right, Kay; such moments do seem monumental and are long remembered because they are unanticipated.
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Thank you, Janet, for reminding me of these moments. I remember when I was 9 and playing solitaire I looked around at my siblings and mother who were all fighting and I said to myself, “My life isn’t going to look like this.” And it doesn’t. I have felt God’s arms around me as I entered the hospital for a surgery. These “aha” moments of insight and clarity so comforting.
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I’m not surprised that you, too, have experienced such moments, Laurel. Thank you for sharing your experiences with me.
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I loved this. There are no step-grand children
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So true, so true, lbeth.
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Lovely Janet, again you place us at your side. Love those moments, I who have long disliked children, recall when a friend’s daughter was born, she was forty minutes old when given me to hold, the tiny thing looked up at me, we connected , even though many would poo-pah that ..one brief moment indeed..
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And, like me, Sheila, you’ve never forgotten that moment. I think such times alter our universe a bit.
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I would like to add to what Dan Antion said.
Janet, you have so much insight and wisdom because you PAY ATTENTION. And that’s because you possess a “writer’s mind”. Thanks for so eloquently describing your moments of enlightenment.
Who are the children in the photograph?
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Yours are among the kindest words I’ve ever read about my writing, Rita; they are very meaningful for me. The children are my grandchildren when they were a couple of years older than when I experienced my moment of insight with the two boys on my lap. There were two others yet to be born; and the oldest girl in the photo has graduated from college.
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Oh, Aunt Janet, this is filed with my other favorites. Love comes from many different areas in our lives. Sometimes it comes from areas that we least expect it. The trick is to have the ability to recognize it before it fleets away. I absolutely loved this post.
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The other day, I thought to myself, “I need to contact Dawna. It’s been too long since I heard from her; I wonder how she’s doing,” and then you made my day with this comment. I’m glad your heart responded to this post, Dawna. Thanks for letting me know. And how are you doing?
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Very beautiful story, Janet. Really moving.
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Thank you, Neil.
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I know we’re not supposed to have favorite children, but can I have a favorite post? I love, love this post. Such warmth and insight, Janet. Your wonderful writing reminds me of my own memorable moments of awareness. Thank you.
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How happy I am that you related to and enjoyed this post, Mary. I felt good about it when I finished reworking it. Were you able to identify any of the children? I’ll send you a quick email that might help.
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It’s astounding I should be reading your post about enlighting moments today because just this morning I was thinking about my sister-in-law who I’m really not all that close to. Yet, she’s going through an extremely rough time right now and all I can think about is that everything turns out okay for her. I’m surprised at my own compassion, which happens so rarely.
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An enlightening moment for sure, Glynis. I will join you in hoping things go well for her.
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How sweet. Good for you. And thank you for sharing such fun and wonderful vignettes of your life.
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You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked my stories.
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I love reading about defining moments, I feel like I can relate to you more knowing some of your thought processes and what you’ve been through. I hope for moments like these of my own that I can also reflect upon.
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Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Jeffrey. I’m sure you will experience, and pay attention to, many such moments.
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How fortunate that your moments of clarity came early in your life, and that you remember them. Another beautiful peek into your soul.
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Thank you for the lovely last line in your comment, Mazie. I have a few other moments of realization I will probably write about in another post some day. I wrote a poem about a recent one that my poetry group thought was worthy, but I think they’re being kind.
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I look forward to reading anything you write about .
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I have sensed you are a faithful reader and I sometimes think about you liking something when I’m writing.
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What a lovely post! It’s amazing where these moments of epiphanies come from. It always amazes me how you can bring the pieces of life to the written word and as I read them I know exactly what you meant because it voices my own thoughts.
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Thank you for your detailed, perceptive comment, Janice. We are truly sisters.
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Such a joy to read your post, Janet! Love is an amazing thing! ❤
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Love is amazing, Barbara. The older I get the more I realize it encompasses everything of worth.
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So true, Barbara. Love is an amazing, redeeming, all encompassing thing indeed.
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Janet, once again you hit a nerve with me, but in a tender, gentle way that you seem to do so well. Some of life’s best lessons or moments have slipped in when least expected. Thank you for the gift you just gave me.
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I’m glad my words could do something worthwhile for you, Joanne; and I appreciate your lovely comment.
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Thank you for sharing these snapshots – I am moved as I consider what they have meant to you, and the clarity of the moment that rings so bright and true that one is just warmed to the core & at one with the universe!
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Thanks for your very positive reaction to my blog. It made my day.
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Love these moments, thank you for sharing them!
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You are welcome, Katie.
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Very poignant snapshots, Janet. I do share blood with my stepfamily. Mr R is my 6th cousin! It makes a difference, knowing that. To love and be loved is all that matters, though. Thanks for sharing. 🙂
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Again, I like the way you sum my writing, Christine. You are right that loving and being loved is all that matters.
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