Wednesday Wisdom: Treasures Right Under Our Noses

TREASURES RIGHT UNDER OUR NOSES

Make the world a bit better or more beautiful because you have lived in it.    Edward Bok 

 

            

We've lived in Central Florida for 21 years, and it's taken us this long to visit one of the most amazing venues in the area: Bok Tower Gardens and Carillon in Lake Wales, Florida. Why we never went there sooner, I do not know.

 

Over the Christmas holiday, our son Evan recommended this place to Ray, our daughter Elisabeth's boyfriend, as a beautiful place for him to propose to her. The account of their engagement here and the pictures they took encouraged us to come here last week to discover it for ourselves. We found a lush 250-acre sanctuary of flowers, meadows, waterways, and peaceful settings, crowned with the enchanting and artistic 205-foot carillon tower, all atop the highest spot in the Florida peninsula.

This National Historic Landmark was the gift of Dutch immigrant and successful magazine publisher Edward Bok. In the 1920s, he wanted to express his appreciation for his adopted country with a lasting endowment of beauty and music. He hired the greatest architect of his day to build the tower and Frederick Law Olmsted Jr., perhaps the greatest American landscape architect of all time, to design the gardens. He commissioned a magnificent 60-bell carillon to be built at the top of the tower. All of this came together in a truly stunning middle-of-nowhere setting about an hour's drive from Orlando or Tampa.

I went there with Marcie and her brother Allan and sister-in-law Janet. We took a picnic and spent a delightful day wandering wooded paths, listening to the bells, and admiring the spring flowers. The weather was ideal, the company was congenial, and the surroundings were beyond compare!

Driving home, I began to wonder how many other jewels of similar magnitude I have missed while living here. What else have I overlooked? Maybe the glitter of "shiny things" like Disney World and Universal Studios has distracted me and caused me to miss glorious settings and experiences right under my own nose.

Isn't that one of those sad-but-true facts of modern life - we chase the bright lights and glamor so intently that we tend to miss the gentle pleasures nearby? I have resolved that I will do better in these matters.

Thank you, Edward Bok, for your generosity. Thank you for preserving this delightful hilltop oasis from relentless development. And thank you for reminding us by your example that one person, properly inspired, can indeed make the world a bit more beautiful because he or she has lived in it.

* * * * *

In addition to the quote at the top of this article, here are some other snippets of wisdom from Edward Bok that you might enjoy:

 

Give the world the best you have and the best will come back to you.

Find your place and hold it; find your work and do it. And put everything you've got into it.

The making of money, the accumulation of material power, is not all there is to living...and the man who misses this truth misses the greatest joy and satisfaction that can come into his life -- service for others.

The price of success: hard work, patience, and a few sacrifices.

A young person, to achieve, must first get out of his mind any notion either of the ease or rapidity of success. Nothing ever just happens in this world.

Wednesday Wisdom: As Far as the Eye Can See

AS FAR AS THE EYE CAN SEE

No one ever injured their eyesight by looking on the bright side. Author Unknown 

 

 

About 18 months ago, I underwent major retinal surgery to repair bleeding inside my left eye. It was a frightening experience that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Fortunately, the procedure was successful.

The doctor warned me that this particular kind of surgery would cause cataracts within a few months. As he predicted, I soon had cataracts in both eyes, leading to two rounds of cataract surgery last year.

Two weeks ago I began experiencing bleeding in my right eye. Fearing the worst, I went immediately to my retina doctor. Through a combination of injections and laser treatment, we were able to head off the problem and avoid additional surgery. Whew! Close call.

As I thought about these ongoing difficulties with my eyes and the danger I faced, I recognized that I had a choice of how I could look at this situation: I could say "Woe is me. Why do I have all these troubles? Life just isn't fair."

Or I could say, "Wow, how fortunate I am. I live in a time and place of miracles. If I had been born in any other century, or even today in some other parts of the world, by this point in my life I would be blind. Instead, I still have my eyesight. I can see! I can observe the gorgeous sunrise during my morning walks. I can gaze appreciatively at my beautiful wife and children and grandchildren. I can read, I can watch TV, I can drive myself to work."

I have decided to take the second path. I choose to look on the bright side.

There is so much to be thankful for. I hope I never take for granted all the blessings we enjoy on this wonderful planet. As a child, I learned and loved this uplifting song:

Whenever I hear the song of a bird

Or look at the blue, blue sky,

Whenever I feel the rain on my face

Or the wind as it rushes by,

Whenever I touch a velvet rose

Or walk by our lilac tree,

I'm glad that I live in this beautiful world

Heavenly Father created for me.

He gave me my eyes that I might see

The color of butterfly wings.

He gave me my ears that I might hear

The magical sound of things.

He gave me my life, my mind, my heart:

I thank him reverently

For all his creations, of which I'm a part.

Yes, I know Heavenly Father loves me.

Life is full of difficulties and rough spots, to be sure. But even with all its challenges, there is so much beauty and goodness in it, if only we will decide to look for it.

I've decided that I will choose to be happy and grateful. No one ever injured their eyesight by looking on the bright side of life.

Wednesday Wisdom: Where is Your Heart Today?

WHERE IS YOUR HEART TODAY?

"Brother-

You went away so suddenly

No time to say goodbye

But brothers can't be parted

Precious memories never die."

Anonymous

Tomorrow on Valentine's Day, my heart will be with my eternal sweetheart Marcie. But today my heart is with someone else.

 

   

The smiling little boy in this picture is my older brother, Alan Farnsworth. He and I were 15 months apart in age and best friends. Today would be his 68th birthday had he not been struck and killed by a drunk hit-and-run driver while riding his bicycle in Fruitland, New Mexico, on February 20, 1959.

It was a Friday afternoon exactly one week after his eighth birthday. Our family had big plans for that evening. Our mother was coming home on the bus from Albuquerque where she had spent the past week (like she did every week) receiving cobalt treatments for her throat cancer. We were going to meet her at the bus terminal in Farmington and go to a movie, an exciting treat for us.

Alan, the oldest of five sons, decided he would ride his bike half a mile up the road to our dairy barn so he could help Dad by feeding the calves. That way, Dad would get finished a little earlier, which would put us at the bus stop a little sooner and give us a few extra minutes with Mama before the movie. Alan was always thoughtful and considerate like that.

 

I told him to be careful, watched him pedal up the road for a minute or two, and then went back to playing marbles. He never made it to the barn and, as far as I know, I was the last person to see him alive.  

A short time later I heard sirens from up toward the barn. From the end of our driveway I could see some commotion in the distance, but it didn't occur to me that it involved Alan. We learned what happened a bit later from our aunt who lived across from the barn.  

For her safety, Mama usually sat right behind the driver on those long and lonely bus rides back and forth from Albuquerque. At the moment Alan was hit by that car, our mother felt a sudden jab of pain - not physical but based more on a mother's intuition. She told the driver she knew something bad had just happened to one of her children. She carried that fear in her heart until the bus arrived in Farmington and my father broke the tragic news to her.

I don't know how my parents bore the painful load they shouldered. Children aren't supposed to die before their parents, and tragedies aren't supposed to pile up one on top of another. Yet they had lost their oldest child in a senseless accident, all in the midst of my mother's arduous battle with a fierce form of cancer that would claim her life two years later.

For my part, I was left bewildered and stunned; it was a lot for a 6½-year-old to deal with. But I did have a tender and child-like faith in what my parents had taught us: we were a forever family and death was but a temporary separation. I knew then that their teachings were true, and I know it even more so today.

I'm aware that some people don't believe in life after death, but I've never been in that camp. I've received enough evidence in my life to convince me that we will live beyond the grave and that we will know and love those we have known and loved here. I'm convinced that Alan and I will always be brothers, and when I pass through the veil, he'll be waiting for me and we'll have lots of catching up to do.  

When I try to imagine that heavenly meeting, I wonder what he will think of me and the life I've lived in the 60 years since his accident. I'm anxious to find out whether he's been able to keep an eye on me from his heavenly perch, or if I'll need to fill him in on this interesting journey I've been on. If he's had an angel's-eye view of my life, I'm sure I've made him proud on some occasions but disappointed him on others. Of course, I'll want to hear what he's been doing since that fateful Friday afternoon in Fruitland, New Mexico.  

What a grand reunion that will be! So much to talk about!

Happy 68th birthday, my dear Brother. I look forward to seeing you again.