The luck of the Irish

Many years ago, I was telling my mom what a lucky lady I am. My friends, Norm and Virginia Rohrer, had mailed me my Day Runner that I’d left at their home after a visit. Norm and Virginia lived at Hume Lake near Sequoia National Park, and I lived in Southern California at that time and was lost without my organizer. That was about twenty years ago. I’m still lost without my organizer. Only now, I carry a smaller one. Thankfully I haven’t left it anywhere lately.

What does this have to do with the luck of the Irish? Everything! For, you see, going back to my conversation with mom, life is a lot about luck. Even if you’re not Irish you may find you have the luck of the Irish. Webster’s II New Riverside University Dictionary reads this way about “luck”, Good fortune or prosperity: success.

But, being “lucky” may be more of an attitude than anything else. It’s also about your perspective and what principles you stand upon.

Just Saturday, March 13, I had a very lucky experience. On the very day of one of the worst storms in the Northeast I was in New York City at NYU for a medical seminar. The wind was near hurricane force and the rain was unrelenting. I’d never seen so many broken umbrellas swept up against fences or strewn in the gutters all smashed to smithereens. I had just gotten off the bus at 42nd Street and Third Avenue and was walking over to catch the M bus down to 34th Street when my hat blew off. It whirled up and around on the current and then was blown smack under a security truck. Suddenly, a tall, able-bodied looking man with glasses and hair askew from the wind who was walking a few steps in back of me bolted into action. He knelt down on his hands and knees and reached under the security truck into black oblivion to grab my hat. When he stood back up he handed me my hat for which I profusely thanked him, and then he continued down the sidewalk. Talk about chivalry!

Yes, indeed, I would acquiesce I was lucky that there was a chivalrous gentleman close by in my moment of need. As I look over my life, fortuitousness has truly been the wind at my back.

And, so, on St. Patrick’s Day 2010, may the Luck of the Irish be with you and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand.

Courage to grow

With the coming of spring we become motivated to clean out the cobwebs in our homes that have gathered over the winter. We grab up bouquets of daffodils already lining supermarket shelves, and at the first hint of sunlight steaming in through the windows, we rush to open them and let in the first burst of fresh air of the season.

Spring is also a prime time to refresh, refocus, and renew our minds. We may be harboring old resentments, or past hurts, and refuse taking the higher road in our relationships. We assume that the other party is wrong and we are owed apologies and the extension of an olive branch. Sometimes, we are more stubborn than a mule’s resistance to a command by a trail guide in making a move toward reconciliation.

I once read in Ann Landers about two sisters who didn’t speak to each other for over 40 years; something about an egg beater that belonged to their mother.

Call it “spring is in the air” or maybe I’m reaching the vanguard of maturity and finally growing up. Or, maybe it’s simply that I don’t want a lifetime of regrets hounding me on my deathbed. But, whatever the reason, I’m thankful for the motivation to reach out and rectify the past... while I still can.

Thus, I’ve found myself stepping out more fearlessly than in the past to speak up in love and mend a broken relationship. It's really never about whose turn it is to take the high road. It’s about doing the right thing for you.

Go ahead. Speak up and take that small step of courage. If your only motive is finding peace that defies understanding be the olive branch.