I know that's not a jolly title, but it wasn't a very jolly Christmas. 

The year was 1986. It was the week of Christmas. In the early hours of Dec. 23, my mother awakened me, having discovered my father’s lifeless body on the floor of our home. He had gotten up during the night and suffered a heart attack before returning to bed.  

At that point, our holiday plans for last-minute shopping, wrapping, exchanging gifts and sharing Christmas dinner were replaced by choosing a casket, scheduling funeral arrangements and making sure dad’s best suit was cleaned.

Unwilling to hold the funeral on Christmas Day, we scheduled it for Dec. 26. In those days, and in our town, families didn’t host a brief visitation window of a few hours — they spent most of the day and much of the evening receiving family and friends. 

And so it was, that on Christmas Day, I found myself sitting with family members in the kitchen of the funeral home. Dreams of turkey and dressing no longer danced in our heads. We would spend the evening greeting friends and loved ones and snacking on sandwiches and doughnuts. 

But then, something unexpected happened.

As I sat in the kitchen of the funeral home, I saw a long-time family friend walk through the back door carrying a large box. She was followed by others carrying more items. As they placed containers of food on the kitchen counter, I walked over to thank them.

The family matriarch took my hand, looked me in the eye and said that no one should go without Christmas dinner. Therefore, she had brought the meal to us. In addition to providing Christmas dinner for her own family, this woman had cooked a whole hen, stuffing and a variety of down-home Southern favorites so that our family could have some semblance of the holiday comforts being enjoyed by much of the planet that night. It was still Christmas Day at the funeral home, but our sadness was now tempered with joy thanks to the kindness of others.

For years I've had the notion that some day I would return the favor for a random family. You know, pay it forward. This week, I contacted a local funeral director, but the unpredictability of what will happen in coming days makes it difficult to carry out my plan. He will keep me apprised — and as much as I'd like to finally carry out this random act — I hope there is no need. I hope no grieving family will be receiving friends at his funeral home in the days just before Christmas. But illness and suffering take no holidays, so a local hospital is my backup plan. 

Grief will touch many families this Christmas season. While the sting of death affects those left behind regardless of the day or time of year, grieving during the holidays is especially difficult. It carries the added weight of witnessing joy all around you but not being able to participate. My heart grieves for the families in Newtown. Conn. — families that will find little joy this holiday season. Perhaps some random souls will perform random acts to touch their hearts and restore their faith in the good of humanity. 

Recently, NBC journalist Ann Curry coined the #26Acts hashtag on Twitter in honor of the victims in Newtown. There's also a Facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/26acts) dedicated to the random acts movement. Today, on the 26th anniversary of my father's death, I bought a Christmas bouquet and gave it to the sweet lady who does the cooking demonstrations at my local grocery store. I handed her the flowers and a card with "#26Acts. For Emilie Parker. For Newtown." Her face erupted into a huge smile. She almost cried and gave me a big hug. I wished her a Merry Christmas as I headed out with my grocery bags. It felt GOOD. I felt good. She felt good. It's exponential.

I hope we'll all look for ways to spread cheer to others this Christmas season. (And every single day!) We are all sojourners here together, all facing our own struggles. When we lift up each other, we lighten the burden for all. Your act of kindness doesn't have to be big, just heartfelt. Believe me, it can be the glimmer of light to someone surrounded by darkness.

Here's to many random acts of kindness — at Christmas time or any time. 

Have you received a totally unexpected gift that touched your heart? Have you performed a random act of kindness for someone else? Share your story in the Comments.

As much as I love social media and the connections it can bring, sometimes I grow weary of the cacophony of noise coming at me. I find myself wondering if the posts I send out are just contributing to the noise or providing meaning to those who read them. 

Sometimes I fear that my words are just being cast in a sea of loud voices that are all crashing to shore at the same time ... with no one hearing them over the thunderous noise.

One person who did hear through all the noise contacted me recently to say that she missed my voice during my periods of blogging silence. That person, who happens to live in the same city that I call home, reached out and invited me to chat over coffee. I accepted.

It was evening, so we opted for herbal tea instead of coffee. Over that cup, I encountered a delightful person whose thoughts and opinions brought value to my life. We chatted like two old friends for more than an hour and met again some weeks later for more spirited conversation. Those discussions have compelled me to think deeper about who I am and my purpose in life.

Which brings me to the purpose of this blog. Some people blog to promote their novel, others to draw attention to their professional services. These are noble and honorable pursuits. But I'm not selling anything (though I do promote my services as a freelance writer and editor). 

So, why do I blog? 

On my grammar blog, I offer practical tips to help others improve their writing. At Musings on Life, my goal is simply to tell stories, and through them to touch people with words in a meaningful way. I guess I just like connecting with others and being a source of encouragement and inspiration.

If only one reader heard my voice and found value in my words, it would all be worth it. But there are many others out there across the miles who have read my words and answered back. Please know that I enjoy your voices, whether in person, in Comments, on Twitter, on Facebook or on the telephone. I appreciate the ties I've made and the virtual friends I've met through this blog. I hope that one day — just as I have with my new Nashville friend — that I might sit down and chat with you over a literal cup of coffee (or tea).

Here's to our myriad voices and reasons for blogging. I challenge you to hold fast to your own unique voice and keep speaking the words in your heart. Together we can be a wave of positive words washing over the world. And words matter. Because even when they only offer coffee, they can always lead to so much more.

If you're a blogger, why do you blog? Have you made meaningful connections on the Web or through your blog? Have you recently been touched in a positive way through someone's words? Please share your thoughts in the Comments.

It's easy to get caught up in the things in our lives that disappoint us. The project that gets scrapped. The job offer that doesn't come through. A serious illness. A financial burden.

Sometimes all we have to hang on to are the simple things — the little moments in daily life that can bring simple pleasure. Enjoy them. Relish them. Here are 10 of mine.

1. The smell of freshly ground coffee early on a weekend morning.

2. The sound of rain softly hitting the roof.

3. Riding in the car with the sunroof open and my favorite music blaring from the stereo.

4. The feel and smell of freshly laundered towels just out of the dryer.

5. Holding hands with my husband.

6.  The intoxicating scent of lavender. 

7. The sound of wind gently rustling trees and grass.

8. Watching rabbits play in the backyard.

9. Cooking a hot breakfast (or any meal!) while listening to cool jazz. (Dave Brubeck's Take Five is like heaven for your ears.)

10. Getting lost in a good book.

What simple pleasures bring a smile to your face? Please share them in the Comments. Let's get a list of hundreds of simple pleasures to share!

The crowd sat eagerly waiting as the college president stepped to the rostrum to address a gathering of faculty, students, administrators and guests. This convocation was not only the beginning of a new school year but a new beginning for the president as well; he had just assumed his duties as president over the summer.

As a member of my alma mater's alumni advisory council, I was invited to attend this event. Being there brought back memories of my days in that same auditorium, of sitting in the quiet foyer of the building to study before my next class. And it reminded me of how proud I felt to be there, how inspired and motivated I was to succeed.

As the president spoke, I was inspired all over again. He began by telling the story of three bricklayers building a cathedral. Perhaps you've heard it — I had not. The story goes something like this:

A man happened along three bricklayers busy at work. He asked the first bricklayer, "What are you doing?"

"I'm laying bricks," the first bricklayer said.

The man asked the second bricklayer the same question.

"I'm putting up a wall," was the reply.

The passerby then posed the question to the third bricklayer.

"What are you doing?" he asked. 

"I'm building a great cathedral," the third bricklayer replied.

The president then suggested that each employee at the college should be engaged in their work and focused on the big picture. Whether their job is cleaning restrooms or filing records or teaching a class or selling a textbook, they should realize that each of those acts plays a part in shaping and aiding the education and future of a student. 

Last year, I contacted my alumni association with the hope of finding a way to volunteer — to give back to the institution that had done so much for me. Recently I met with other planning committee members to stuff envelopes for invitations to our fall fundraiser. While that act itself may seem small and insignificant, the money raised at that fundraiser will mean everything to the scholarship recipient who is able to graduate from college. That's the big picture I try to focus on. That's my proverbial cathedral: a student beaming brightly while wearing a cap and gown and going on to a successful life.

Yes, the bricks are important; they are the building blocks, the foundation of whatever work we do. We just need to see beyond the singular brick, the isolated act, and realize that it's a part of the whole. Just imagine a brick wall riddled with empty spaces where bricks were left out. Those missing bricks would compromise the strength and integrity of the wall. Each brick, each person, each job is an imperative part of the whole.

If you can't see your cathedral for the bricks, maybe it's time to look for purpose in what you do — or dedicate yourself to doing something different. Determine to look at the big picture and recognize the importance of what you do each day. Don't lay bricks; build a great cathedral.

Are you laying bricks today? Or building a cathedral? Please share your thoughts in the comments.