On Saturday mornings, my cat likes to eat her breakfast by the TV.

It’s not a “TV” like you and I typically think of. Ellie’s TV is the screen door — the front door flung wide to give her access to her favorite channel. A channel featuring scampering birds and squirrels, swaying trees, and dancing leaves. She is polite in her request when she asks that I “turn it on.” And she settles in happily to watch.

And, since it’s Saturday morning, I take her special breakfast off her regular place mat and allow her to enjoy it in front of her TV.

With pets — and people too — it’s about Listening. It’s about paying attention to not just their words but their actions and behavior, their eyes, their body language, how they respond to what we say. It’s learning to hear what they aren’t speaking.

Our pets mewl and bark to express their needs. We pay attention and care for them. In a world full of distractions, though, it’s easy to miss a message. More than ever, we need to be truly present, observing those we care most about, and doing what we can to support them … to understand what’s important to them. To hear beyond the bark, the mewl, or the words. To be kind.

We live in a predominately selfish world where the tendency is to focus on our own wants and needs — to be oblivious to what is going on with people surrounding us.

On the road, we’re annoyed by the driver who cuts us off — or won’t let us merge.

When shopping, we’re frustrated at the lack of cashiers, slowing us down at check out.

At the office, we feel slighted when we don’t get the recognition we feel we deserve — or when our boss seems oblivious to what is happening on our desks.

When someone doesn’t respond to a call, a text or an email as quickly — or in the way we think they should — we feel slighted.

In those moments, perhaps it might be a better choice to look beyond our limited view to consider that there’s more to the story … that we only see a part of what’s actually happening.

How amazing it is then to share time with a a pet — a sweet creature who asks so little of us and offers unconditional love. There’s no subtext to try and interpret. Everything is straight-forward.

So, in the mornings when perhaps I might sleep in longer, her plaintive mewls awaken me. I find myself wanting to get up … wanting to do something for Ellie … wanting to spend time with just the two of us in our sun room.

Then when she sprawls out — literally taking over my exercise mat — I accommodate that request too, scratching her as I workout.

And, I take her Saturday morning breakfast to the screen door where she can enjoy it as she watches the Nature Channel.

It’s about more than us. It’s thinking about and truly caring about the needs, the hopes, the fears, the desires, the wishes, and the dreams of the people — and the animals — we interact with on a daily basis. It’s about listening to them as they speak — and hearing more than their words. It’s about being present with them as they sit beside you. It’s about the gift their presence brings into our lives and how we make the most of each encounter. Life is too precarious for anything less.

I’ll never forget when I was a kid and Grandmother Carmichael delivered cinnamon toast to me while I watched Saturday morning cartoons in her den. It was an act of love.

I’m pretty sure Ellie knows that when I bring breakfast to her while she watches her Saturday morning Nature Channel it is my way of saying I love you to her too.

                                                                                                                       — Jenni

 

 

 

I bought a new Nook the other day. (No offense meant to you Kindle or iPad users. I’m just a Barnes & Noble girl.) I’m honestly not one to upgrade my tech every time a new version comes out. But my 10-year old Nook had recently begun to take it upon itself to turn the pages of my books all by itself.

I purchased the 10.1 Tablet by Nook along with a navy cover and took it home, following all the steps necessary to sync it to my B&N account and obtain books I’ve purchased over the years. Then, I settled in to finish my current read: Good Omens by Neil Gaiman.

The new Nook had a pretty glossy screen, glossier than its predecessor. It didn’t take long for my fingerprints to mar its sheen. I buffed it with a cloth and wiped it down with my son’s camera lens cleaner to remove marks. But, the tracks of my use began to bother me.

I returned to Barnes & Noble a few days later to purchase a Screen Protector, asking the Customer Service reps if they might be willing to put it on for me — as the Royal Oak store had done for me many years ago. The reps politely declined my request. So, I left the store, $14.26 poorer, to complete my mission.

Now, I consider myself a pretty methodical person. I read the instructions thoroughly and found a nice clean space in which to work. I cleaned my Nook screen and prepared to add the screen protector, which also promised to eliminate glare — bonus!

Do I need to continue? Can you predict the outcome? It’s a 10.1 inch screen. I lined the protector up as directed with the camera lens, slowly pulled it down to caress the soft, silky tablet screen and … bubbles!

Bubbles in the middle. Bubbles on the side. Well, the side had this line of air that no matter how I smoothed it down would NOT go away. Type AA me was ticked. I’d followed all the guidelines only to have this mess!

So … I took a deep breath and slowly and ever so gently began to pull up the corners to try again. You know … the “if at first you don’t succeed” mantra?

Well, that only made it worse.

So, I pulled it off — much more annoyed and frustrated — and tossed it in the trash. After all, the packaging came with two protectors. (A hint of the drama I should have foreseen.) I could learn from my mistake, go slower in the application process, and protect my glossy screen after all. Of course, as I was a bit peeved, I’d wait a few hours and return when my calm state reasserted itself.

Two hours later … well, let’s just say, I wasted $14.26 and did NOT have a glare resistant, fingerprint preventing screen protector on my new Nook.

It’s not uncommon to dislike the ugly glow of finger marks on our pretty surfaces. To want to wipe them off. It’s normal to look for a way to prevent them … to protect ourselves from their oils. We seek ways to remove them and disavow scratches to our bodies, hearts and minds as well. We prefer everything to look attractive, shiny and fine — and that those around us see us that way.

As a parent, I have always done my best to protect, guide and keep my kids from things that might harm them. When they were babies, I placed socket protectors all over the house, locked down cabinets and moved matches to high shelves. But as they grow older, I can’t always be there to shield them.  I have to hope that the teachings I offered hold true for them, guiding them away from decisions, choices and actions that might cause them harm … that might scratch their glossy screens.

But, we are all human. They will make their choices and mistakes, just like I have. We all make decisions that leave marks … fingerprints if you will … on our own screens. They shape us. We can pull out a lint cloth and attempt to wipe them off, but we know their tracks are deeply etched into our very souls.

Trying to add that plastic thing to my Nook reminded me how we strive to keep our hearts and minds from harm. But life happens. We can wrap ourselves in bubble wrap and keep people or experiences at bay. Or we can accept that everything that happens — all fingerprints and scratches — shape us and make us stronger, perhaps even opening us to opportunities that will allow us to shine brighter in this crazy world.

I personally may have explored opportunities others would not have. I am adventurous and curious. I may have even made choices others might have been afraid to make or accepted challenges that may have intimidated another. I don’t always play it safe. I have fallen while ice skating and tumbled off my paddle board. But I’ve gotten up. When life scratches me, my screen doesn’t stop working. Oh, I have a few scars. But, that’s just a part of who I am today and who I am becoming.

Amidst the bumps and bruises, I’ve enjoyed amazing moments, climbed mountains and descended into valleys — noting the beauty along the way. I’ve touched hearts and others have touched mine. I’ve broken hearts and felt mine break. All the while, though, the glare I see — the marks that show up on my unprotected screen — they were made by me as a result of the “buttons” I selected.

No matter how bright and shiny my screen may appear to you, there are marks on it. I’ve not always been gentle with myself or others. I’ve spoken rashly and harshly. I’ve struggled and cried — I’ve giggled and laughed too. I’ve been dropped, handled with less care than I would have liked, and handled myself with less care than perhaps I should have. But I wouldn’t erase those fingerprints if I could. I don’t live my life with “should haves” or regrets.

Oh, I could still add a screen protector to my Nook. Shell out another $14.26.  But, I doubt I can keep the air from making the bubbles. So it’s up to me … bubbles or fingerprints.

I’d rather see the fingerprints. I can wipe them off from time to time. But, I feel their marks. They show me every day that I have truly lived.

                                                                                                                           — Jenni