The eager eyes. The wagging tail. The soft lick. The dancing paws and jingling dog tags. How can anyone resist that furry little creature – the family dog?

I will admit right up front that I may not be half as crazy about your dog as my own. In fact, I never imagined being a dog owner. I am a neat freak – and dogs are so… messy. However, in an effort to “complete” our happy, growing family and answer the pleading from two insistent children (three, if you count my husband), I relented, and the rest is doggy history. It was one of the best decisions I ever made.

The kids hand picked a fuzzy, buff-colored Cocker Spaniel from a sea of puppies at the breeder. We named her Shane (boy name, girl dog – whatever). And she stole our hearts. Thirteen years later, she still greets us at our bedside every morning as if she is thanking us for another day to share together.

Thirteen years is OLD in Cocker years… way past “senior” and “mature”… she’s into “borrowed time.” Shane is deaf, has limited vision, sports an army of warts beneath her curly coat, limps and is an impossible snorer. She is showing all the tell-tale signs of aging. But, this beautiful female canine can teach us all a thing or two about aging gracefully:

1. She never complains or broods. Whatever her ailment, she adjusts to the new circumstance and moves forward.
2. She has an incredible pain threshold. The ONLY time she demands attention for her pain is if it is a serious situation… she never cries wolf.
3. She has abundant enthusiasm. She will always say “yes” to whatever the family suggests.
4. She has NO guilt about napping when necessary.
5. Even with her arthritic legs and back, she gleefully takes her walks every day. She intuitively understands that no matter one’s age – daily exercise is important until the day you die.
6. She maintains a proper diet… dutifully eating the prescribed, appropriate meals.
7. She remains social and loyal to her friends and family.
8. She harbors no grudges. She displays unconditional love with every rush to the door to greet us – and with every wet, messy lick.

The kids are grown and gone now. That shift in family life seemed natural. But I can’t imagine life without Shane. Every day with her is a blessing. She has no idea what she means to her family. I am grateful for her unwavering loyalty and for the lessons she is teaching me daily.

The moon was perfectly round and full tonight on this January evening. As I drove my car, I kept glancing at its brilliance. The clouds were passing over the great orb – but just ever so featherly. Instead of obscuring the view, the vapory wisps-o-clouds were highlighting the illumination. This scene appeared to be a painting of an evening winter sky; it seemed way too perfect to be real. I playfully thought about this marvel for several minutes. These moments of revelation awakened me from my everyday commute – they reminded me that I want to admire the fascinating details of life more often. I want to slow my day, my breath, my observations and my general pace in life.  As they say, I wish to “live in the moment.”

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Some folks call it mindfulness. If only we all could pay attention to what’s really going on and being said… there would certainly be less frustration in the world and more appreciation. I believe that if we go about our day with a focus on minding what we do, we will find greater pleasure around every corner. For we know, both natural and man-made miracles and mysteries abound. We just have to be receptive to them. 

Yoga helps tune your mindfulness radar. My instructor, Michelle, is incredible. She is teaching us at practice to regard each day as a gift. I imagine the day unwrapping itself and its many beautiful contents spilling out. Yoga is good for my tight muscles AND my mind through meditation and reflection.

Living in the moment and mindfulness requires acute senses. The ability to appreciate the scent of wet earth, the sight of geese in flying formation, the sound of crickets on a summer evening, the feel of freshly laundered bed linens, the taste of freshly squeezed orange juice… it takes practice.

1.  Sense it.
2.  Experience it fully. 
3.  Account for its wonders…
4.  Consciously appreciate it.
5.  Repeat.

 If I truly do follow through with my intentions, I wonder just how rich my days will feel and how much more satisfied, happy and relaxed I will be as I lay my head on my pillow at night.

I can see that same full moon now – only from a ninth floor perspective. Off the ground, I feel that much closer to the warm glow… perhaps I could lean out over my balcony and grab that moon. The moon will be my new symbol for viewing ordinary life in an extraordinary way.

This is not my usual blog post. If you’re looking for something to inspire your running, you won’t get it from me this time. It’s not the smoothest, most beautiful piece of writing, but it’s something I had to write.

My grandfather moved on from this life early Sunday morning.

As I lay in bed, beginning to process the news, I did what most people would do in this situation – I went to the memories. What I began to realize as I searched my memory is that he taught me much more than I ever realized or appreciated while he was alive.

Among the many accomplishments in his life, Kenneth Potter opened and ran a successful produce market in downtown Holland for nearly 30 years. That entrepreneurial spirit was enstilled in his children and grandchildren, many of whom have gone on to start their own businesses. That spirit is alive in me, though I haven’t found the best way to express it.

He and my grandmother had 5 children, 24 grandchildren, and 35 great-grandchildren with many more on the way. They have attended everything from piano recitals to choir concerts to band concerts, football games to soccer matches to track meets. Track and Cross Country are not the most glamorous sports, but they always made sure to make it to a couple meets per season. I didn’t realize it at the time, but between all the grandchildren (and we were a busy bunch) they must have spent every single night during the school year at some kind of event, and never begrudgingly. They loved to see their family be successful.

Beyond all that, the greatest gift he ever gave me was the one lesson I don’t think he meant to teach. Over the years I have seen my grandpa grow as a man. I always assumed that once you hit a certain age, you just stayed the same; and maybe some people do. But Grandpa Potter was open to continuous growth. As we grandchildren grew up in a new and very different era than he was familiar with, we often challenged his worldview and flew in the face of what he perceived to be the norm. By no means was he a perfect person; he was most certainly a product of the era during which he grew up. As an example, he was none too pleased one year at Christmas when I showed him a picture of my new girlfriend (now my wife). It was impossible for him to conceive of one of his grandchildren being with someone of a different race, and it elicited a (highly inappropriate) viceral response. It wasn’t his fault (at least not totally), it was something he’d never had to think about before. The great thing about my grandpa was that I could say right to his face that I did not appreciate his comments, and it never changed the way he felt about me. It took time, and the first time they met was very awkward, but by our wedding day he had accepted Mindy as a member of his family, and loved her as his own. I respect him so much for that. It would have been easy to hold a grudge and reluctantly accept what he could not change. But that is not the path he chose. He chose to examine himself (with Grandma’s help, I’m sure) and adapt to a new time in order to love better.

There are many more examples that I could go in to, but there is one in particular that strikes my passions. At what most would consider late in life to do so, Grandpa decided to quit smoking. Most New Year’s resolutions fail fairly quickly, but this one lasted nearly 30 years, never waivering. It’s never too late to change.

I think sometimes people take my lack of transparency as a lack of caring. I don’t post every thought and emotion on facebook or make grand entrances to family events – it’s not my style. It wasn’t Grandpa’s style, either. He didn’t want to burden anyone with his problems. If he was having a bad day, no one but Grandma knew about it. That’s what made it so hard to see him at the end. He didn’t want us to see him like that; he didn’t want us to hurt.

If you’re still reading, you’re probably related to me. I could not stop shaking while I typed this. I left and came back to the computer numerous times, just so I could try to compose myself. We all loved Grandpa, and he will be missed. I don’t want this to become a 1500 word essay, so I will end with this: let the lessons you’ve learned be his legacy. Thank you, Gramps, for everything.