Introspection

Today I was looking through some of my files and came across a letter that my dad had written to me in 2008 on my birthday.  My dad is a wonderful writer and always writes thoughtful letters.  He ended with a paragraph about Kyle and it really touched my heart and I think applies to today and to all of us.  He wrote......

"Thinking about Kyle, I think that the last 4 years have seasoned him,

toughened him, honed his interpersonal skill and leadership style.

My poem on "Introspection" is very relevant to successes

 and defeats in football.  Defeats may be blessings that come in

"filthy rags".  For a defeat to be a blessing, the defeated must look

upon it as a fantastic experience from which new energy is released

for learning to overcome weaknesses and capitalize on strengths.

I see Kyle doing this.  In fact, his record says it all and always has."

Everyone has struggles, this just reminded me to try and really grow from those experiences and not let them go to waste or cause us sorrow. 

The following is a poem my dad wrote in 1952 when he woke up in the morning and it had snowed lightly in the night.  The rays of the sun were melting the snow from the limbs outside the window.

Introspection

A Sabbath morning in the Fall,

A few more days, no leaf will fall;

But soon the bare and ghostly limbs

Will bend down low at snow's chilly whims,

But the morning sun after the storm

Will free the limbs with steamy warm.

Will my resilience always be

As prompt and sure as thee, Oh tree?

After a storm has bent my soul 

will I spring back and take control?

Can I make the circumstance

That bends me down, somehow enhance

My strength for my next trial?

Will it lighten the burden of another mile?

My blessings hence and thus do come,

in filthy rags, hard to discern, at first.

But something down inside of me

Says "Take a lesson from the tree.

The time will come when this shall prove

To be a blessing from above."

I love my dad and am so grateful for his wonderful insights over the years.  I am so grateful that he has bound copies of his life, poems, and psychology theories, that I can reference back to them often.

My dad and I (I am 18 months old)

My dad and I, Darsi coming down the stairs

With my dad on my wedding day December 27, 1983