Words to Live By...

What words do you live by?

Swinging on The Mood Swing: Being Grateful for the Little Things

My basic approach to Life is to seek joy and fulfilment in every action and in every moment. But I'll admit that, on some days, my Happy Disposition plummets, swirling and twirling in the depths of laundry-induced Despair.

This was one of those melancholy weeks. A full-moon, my period due any second, unruly children and a messy house out of control had me crying over mis-matched socks and screeching over the hideous fly that decided to commit suicide in my lovely, freshly brewed cup of coffee.

When it's That Time of the Month my hormones go haywire. I feel the Lowest of the Low. I'm super-sensitive, the littlest things can get to me. If my children refuse to eat their dinner I feel unloved, unappreciated and the ugliest of the ugly. Of course I know that this is craziness and I am much loved, (mostly) appreciated, and pretty much  the damn Centre of my Family's Universe. I am The Mother, after all, and everything and everyone would go to heck without me!

The saddest part of this week was receiving news yesterday that a much loved family friend tragically passed away, leaving behind his young wife and 2 young daughters. This brought me back to reality. If I have my health and my family is in good health, I am blessed.

After attacking a block of cooking chocolate after dinner, I took a deep breath and looked around me.
I noted the 'little things' I was grateful for, right there and then, and started taking photos to capture the moment.

I was Grateful for:

My New Kitchen

Chocolate

The stems of the bok-choy I cut for our stir-fry that looked like roses

Little Miss C in her Fairy Princess ensemble

Little Miss A with her Flamenco dress and her Daddy's hat

Little Katrushki walking down the aisle

Our latest addition, Jinxy the Kitten

The picture Miss C drew of me that I found on my phone

Life is precious. Life is what we make of it.

When I feel my swing slowing down, I make sure I kick up my heels and point my toes towards Happy-ness again.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

What do you do to lift your spirits when you get the Blues?

The Miraculous Hand

This is a story of miracles and guardian angels, and one in particular, that saved my life.
I was 7 years old and it was Summertime. My 3 siblings and I were holidaying at my grandparents.There weren't many toys to play with so we used to make up our own games. On that particular day the game de jour was scaring each other to death.
My younger sister was the master of this game. I was sitting innocently on my grandmothers orange velour couch, drinking pink milk when my dastardly sister leaped out from behind the sofa with a grizzly roar, startling me so much that I sprayed my yummy milk all over my pretty yellow sundress.
'Haha! I'm the winner' declared the brat. 'I'm the best Scarer, you can't beat me!'
'We'll see about that...' I muttered under my breath as my sister skipped away to terrorise the cat in the backyard.
Now, to find the perfect hiding spot.
I was going to startle my sister so much that not only would she spill her pink milk, she'd wet her pants. Stealthily, I headed to my grandparents bathroom. It was an ocean of 1950's turquoise mosaic tiles and aquamarine enamel. Aha! I ducked into the shower stall, a pebbly cave of blue. My white sandals splashed in a shallow puddle of leftover water. The damp plastic shower curtin clammily clung to my sundress and my hair everytime a breeze blew. My plan was to stay there until my sister went to the toilet and had to come into the bathroom to wash her hands. Then I'd jump out and scare her. Surely I'd be the winner then.
I waited.
And waited.
The sound of drip, drip, drip from the the dripping basin tap was making me want to go to the toilet. Too much pink milk.
Suddenly I heard the bang of the back flyscreen door. I could hear my sister running down the hall, past the bathroom and into the kitchen where Grandma was calling out for her.
Ok. Slight change of plan.
My bladder could hold out no longer.
I ducked out of the shower and leaned back stealthily against the bathroom door, blending into the shadows. I heard my grandmother say to my sister, 'Here, take this out to Papou'. Papou was preparing a barbecue lunch for us outside.
Aha! She'd be heading my way again. I would jump out just as she reached my doorway.
My heart was racing, building up in excitement and anticipation.
I heard the sound of my sister's squeaky steps as she scuttled along the yellow plastic hall-runner my grandmather used to protect her plush-pile tangerine carpet.
She's nearly here, I thought to myself excitedly.
I was just about to pounce when suddenly I felt It.
The Hand.
Firm, but gentle on my shoulder.
And a voice, inside my head, also firm but gentle, that simultaneously spoke the words 'No/Stop'.
I turned behind me but there was nothing there.
Except there was. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it.
Her.
A Lady.
And she felt tall, as tall as the ceiling, because I felt my head looking up towards 'her', where I felt her beautiful 'face' would be. All I could see was sunlight on my face and a calm, blissful serenity took over my body.
I turned back towards the doorway and watched my sister run past. She was oblivious to me. I watched her charge down the hall with a big sharp knife held out infront of her.
And then I understood.
If I had leapt out when I'd intended, my sister would have impaled me with that kitchen knife, most likely killing me.

My Guardian Angel saved me.

That Voice has guided me on several occassions in my life. The night I met my Husband, and the night my father died. I trust it and it makes me feel safe. I know that Everything Will Be All Right. Even when I'm alone, I know I'm never alone. 
There are real miraculous moments in this world. We just have to be open to them.

Do you believe in Angels?

I'm linking up this post with the gorgeous Edenland as part of her 'Fresh Horses Brigade'. Be sure to check out all the other fab bloggers linking up too!