Red Flag, Green Flag

 I grew up across from a small lake in Denver. Back in the 60’s, it would still freeze over in winter, and neighbors would ice skate on it. I remember that there would always be a flag close to shore which would indicate whether or not the ice was thick enough to safely skate on—green for safe, red for unsafe. We were taught about ice safety, and my friends and I took it to heart, never testing the ice ourselves. It kept us safe, and on red flag days, we’d find other ways to amuse ourselves.

In my last marriage, we spent many vacations in and around Cancun. The sea was a beautiful turquoise, usually quite calm. Officials there also used the red flag/green flag system with the addition of a yellow one for taking caution. I’m not much of a water baby, so I loved the green flag days. Sometimes I’d try out the yellow flag days, which made for more exciting body-surfing, but I trusted that if a red flag was flying, I’d just stay out of the water altogether.

When I put off taking the time to feel grateful for an identifiable thing, whether object or general feeling, specific event or person, I’m skating on thin ice. I’m creating my own red-flag situation through my own failure of being in a state of mind which notices the good. 

There’s always so much for which to express gratitude! The little patches of blue sky I see right now, which are a welcome break between storms, the screen-saver photographs displayed on my tv even while the reception is out, the anticipation of sharing a meal with a friend, the news that my car is not only fixable, but is almost ready for me! 

Before recovery from active alcoholism, even while I was accused of being a “Pollyanna”, I would only see the shadows, never the sunlight. My problems, and some of them were real, were all I felt and all I reacted to. When the book “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff - And It’s All Small Stuff” came out, the title made me mad. How could my sadness, my problems, my situation be considered ‘small’? I wasn’t about to read a book which had to be utter BS. (Full disclosure: I still haven’t read it!)

I was emotionally always skating on that thin ice.

At over ten years of recovery work, I can say truthfully, happily, joyfully, that gratitude expressed is my green flag. It’s safe. It’s free. It’s readily available, and it’s mine to flood my soul with, whenever I choose.