When a friend finished his chemo treatments, he got to ring the bell at the hospital. I bet it felt satisfying. Chemo is tough no matter how you look at it, and making it to the end of a regime deserves recognition.

 

In sewing class we clap. Each time a child cuts the last thread on a pillow, or stuffed animal's cape,  we all pause to cheer. The smiles are real. Making your very own doll dress is as sweet as cake. Being acknowledged for it is like the frosting. 

 

One of the things I try to do when we spend time with couples is to honor their efforts. This week I sat across from a couple who are clearly in love. After a quarter of a century she describes him as easy to live with, and he is awed by how well she takes care of their home. He figured that without her he would be better off living in a shoe box. They touched easily as they spoke, and looked at each other fondly.

 

"You really seem to appreciate each other, and express it freely. It's great to hear." Being in their company was as lovely as the dancing trees outside the picture window.

 

When we lived in Florida thirty five years ago we would make the pilgrimage back to Pennsylvania every summer, so our kids could know who their grandparents were. I remember having a secret wish that I did not dare to articulate. I wanted my mother to congratulate me for keeping them alive for another year. It felt ridiculous, and yet it wasn't. Motherhood comes with pathetically few accolades.

 

Sometimes a brief respite for clapping is all we need.