Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Curly: Love thy neighbor as thyself
The motley gray house was the neighborhood eyesore in its upper middle class subdivision with its undriveable old vehicle permanently parked, piles of unemptied garbage, webs of undergrowth, fading exterior paint and morbidly abandoned appearance. The house was alive in the past when its owner was functional. At this point neither the house nor the man appeared to be so. Actually, it is rumored that the man was very renowned in the community at one time, honored by notable professionals in memoriam, but we are moving ahead in the story.
The two house mascots were a large orange cat and Curly. Both aging animals presented a somewhat snarly “attitude” about their kingdom seemingly unaware of its very decrepit status. Curly resembled the lion statues framing many building staircases. He was crusty, black furred and short in stature with a somewhat puggish nose which made him look like Winston Churchill. He included the street in his territory which gave him the name “speed bump” as he never moved for cars in the intersection. He acted contrary to strangers but graciously and fiercely loyal to his owner. He was a survivor and also a crumudgeon.
One day we noticed the movable car had not returned and later learned its owner had been injured and ultimately succumbed to his injuries. The independent cat took matters in his own hands and left the minute the food supply disappeared. Curly, on the other hand stayed in wait.
Although he was not overtly cordial in the beginning, we set up a pallet, water and food in the garage. The weather was getting cold. Before very long neighbors who walked frequently in the neighborhood brought him daily treats such as chicken. One animal lover drove by throwing him meatballs. He became so attentive that we felt comfortable taking him for bath and shots.
We knew he was sure to be sacrificed at the shelter , so we continued the above care plan until the man’s out of state daughter appeared to try to make arrangements about the house. She was so captivated by the neighborhood love that she ultimately took Curly with her to retire in Florida and reward his faithful loyalty.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Are the Candles Burning?
I just finished a phone call with my sweet and innocent 4 year old granddaughter. Today is bittersweet for me—sweet because of Sarah and sad because it is my husband’s birthday almost 10 years to the date of his passing away.
Miss Sarah was now aware of my cancer and about the challenge to the body for those who have had it for a long time. Her parents and I talked with her about my body wearing out as I am “old” and to her I am. We explained (separately) that my spirit would live forever with God in heaven and that we would always love each other. She shared that she had cried yesterday when she was told; she is trying to make sense of this fundamentally critical information about life. She understood enough about where I would be and also that I was not there now and we can still talk and play. I also shared with her my belief that when I am in Heaven it is hard to imagine, but I will be able to love her even more than I can now.
I talked about her grandpa Bill who is in heaven. I asked if they would have a cake for his birthday today. She said “I think they are making it right now”. Through my tears I asked if he could blow out all 68 candles on the cake or if he needed help. We agreed that the candles are not still burning.
Miss Sarah was now aware of my cancer and about the challenge to the body for those who have had it for a long time. Her parents and I talked with her about my body wearing out as I am “old” and to her I am. We explained (separately) that my spirit would live forever with God in heaven and that we would always love each other. She shared that she had cried yesterday when she was told; she is trying to make sense of this fundamentally critical information about life. She understood enough about where I would be and also that I was not there now and we can still talk and play. I also shared with her my belief that when I am in Heaven it is hard to imagine, but I will be able to love her even more than I can now.
I talked about her grandpa Bill who is in heaven. I asked if they would have a cake for his birthday today. She said “I think they are making it right now”. Through my tears I asked if he could blow out all 68 candles on the cake or if he needed help. We agreed that the candles are not still burning.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Assaulted by Television Commercials
I had a senior moment today. Staring at the TV, I could not remember what Hallmark
Show I was watching. Did I have attention deficit disorder? Was I slipping into dementia? Two of the commercials advertised other shows, causing me to believe that I, as well, was watching them.
It was then I paid attention, escaping my lullingly dazed state. During the period we used to receive one or two commercial ads we are now bombarded by 10!
In the disco light blitz I learned that I should:
1.drink only Florida orange juice
2.find my life-long soul mate on E-Harmony
3.absorb the proper probiotics and antioxidants from Ensure
4.chomp on chewy, trusty Twizlers candy
5.consume Bush Beans because of a talking ghost dog
6.have fun and go lean with Kashi
7.clip OFF on everything in its new clip-on form
8.use the new Sweeper Swiffer and throw out my mop and broom
9.go green with natural cleaners
10.drive a Lincoln from Bayway Chevrolet
11.consult Comcast travel and leisure station
12.“Be Myself” on South Padre Island.
No wonder I am confused. Perhaps it is not just my age that interferes with orientation.
Show I was watching. Did I have attention deficit disorder? Was I slipping into dementia? Two of the commercials advertised other shows, causing me to believe that I, as well, was watching them.
It was then I paid attention, escaping my lullingly dazed state. During the period we used to receive one or two commercial ads we are now bombarded by 10!
In the disco light blitz I learned that I should:
1.drink only Florida orange juice
2.find my life-long soul mate on E-Harmony
3.absorb the proper probiotics and antioxidants from Ensure
4.chomp on chewy, trusty Twizlers candy
5.consume Bush Beans because of a talking ghost dog
6.have fun and go lean with Kashi
7.clip OFF on everything in its new clip-on form
8.use the new Sweeper Swiffer and throw out my mop and broom
9.go green with natural cleaners
10.drive a Lincoln from Bayway Chevrolet
11.consult Comcast travel and leisure station
12.“Be Myself” on South Padre Island.
No wonder I am confused. Perhaps it is not just my age that interferes with orientation.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
PAUL’S READER’S DIGEST VERSION OF LIVING THE CHRISTIAN LIFE
Be Joyful in Hope
Be Patient in Affliction
Be Faithful in Prayer
Romans 12:12
Be Patient in Affliction
Be Faithful in Prayer
Romans 12:12
Monday, June 22, 2009
In the Folds of the Comforter
Deliciously dozing
Dazed by delight
Purring weightless
Dreaming contentment.
Three spirit-cats
Sleeping in the peaks and valleys
Of a naked down comforter,
Mindful only of safety and comfort.
Lord, make us solely mindful
Of Enfoldment in the Deep Folds of Your
Enwrapping Love, Safety and Comfort.
You are the Great Comforter.
Dazed by delight
Purring weightless
Dreaming contentment.
Three spirit-cats
Sleeping in the peaks and valleys
Of a naked down comforter,
Mindful only of safety and comfort.
Lord, make us solely mindful
Of Enfoldment in the Deep Folds of Your
Enwrapping Love, Safety and Comfort.
You are the Great Comforter.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
How Fortunate I Am
For over 25 years while ending a Chinese meal out I would tell the following story.
I always note a moment of almost childhood excitement as guests pretend to struggle over the order of reaching for the fortune cookies, an almost magical belief that yours will be special and some disappointment if others get the good fortune, as if it will come true. Fortunes are then read and evaluated and even at times the words “in bed” are added to the reading.
Twenty five years ago I searched through a large bowl of cookies carefully and upon opening it discovered it was empty…..empty!!!! The existential question I suffered from was if that meant I had NO fortune I was indeed unfortunate. My inner self recovered fairly quickly and I announced to the group that it meant “I get to make my own”.
Who would ever believe the odds that this scenario was repeated again this week and in front of a friend who was present at the first event! In evaluating the past 25 years I conclude that I have indeed been very fortunate.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Miss Odessa Cat
Miss Odessa Cat is now retired, but here are two shots of her in her younger career days:
My Testimony
When I invited Jesus into my 6 year old heart I loved Him; I had no doubts.
After 57 years of life I love Him and have no doubts.
I have chronicles of experience of how He has been with me even and especially when I was not close to Him. I have lived both close and far from Him and by far close is better!
He has given me grace and mercy……grace just enough and just in time. As a mother I cannot imagine giving up your only son for the salvation of those who will believe.
As I walk towards Heaven I can truly say that God has been my Father, Counselor, Savior and Bridegroom. In the last 15 years I have lived with Cancer, widowhood and numerous losses. God has given me joy, the family of God and constant comfort. He resurrected me from death episodes three times in five years. He showed me what is important. He has brought me children and their children that love Him. I often identify with Job and God’s ultimate care for him.
I look to Psalm 23 (NIV) to express my testimony:
(1) “Because the Lord is my shepherd I have everything I need.” Even when I may think I need more.
(2) “He lets me rest in the meadow grass and leads me beside the quiet streams.” When I feel stressed He calls me to find rest. I become the baby lamb I have seen resting in the crook of His arm.
(3) “He restores my failing health.” I trust Him as my great physician.
(3) “He helps me to do what honors Him the most.” Especially when I want to do
what honors me the most.
(4) “Even when walking through the dark valley of death I will not be afraid for you are close beside me guarding, guiding all the way.” You never leave us or forsake us. You are with us in the most alone experiences of birth and death.
(5) “You provide delicious food for me…you have welcomed me as your guest; blessings overflow.” I accept your gracious hospitality and praise the overflowing of good things.
(6) “Your goodness and unfailing kindness shall be with me all of my life and afterward I will live with you forever in your house.” What more could I need forever?
Things Are Not Always As They Seem To Be
I received the legacy of china knick knacks from several generations. As I was passing them on to my daughter we tried to make meaning of them. I am someone who should be purchasing “Antiques for Dummies”.
I was especially impressed with a blue and white set of china that a friend assisted me in displaying on my, oh I don’t really know its name but it sits atop the very old buffet of my mother. As I tried to describe it to others I remembered such antique words as “spode” and “toile”, whatever they meant.
As our admiration for the mysterious china grew, we chose it as the theme of my daughter’s new dining room. We purchased classic toile blue and white valences and I sewed a door curtain sporting a stylish blue braided tassel.
I began questioning both sides of my family to understand the meaning of such valuable legacies.
The paternal grandparent relatives had no recollection of grandma ever owning such. The maternal aunt recalled that the maternal grandmother hated any china bearing a pattern………..um?
We resorted to Mother Internet. She held the answer. These Enoch Wedgwood Liberty Blue dishes were given away at A & P grocery stores to honor the U.S. bi-centennial in 1976. Yes, I had actually heard the word Wedgwood somewhere at least! It was then I recalled that the paternal grandma was a serious celebrant of the bi-centennial, having tediously crocheted two king-sized flag coverlets. Apparently she shopped at A & P frequently in 1976 and never told her family.
At last our dining room found its sentimental meaning.
I was especially impressed with a blue and white set of china that a friend assisted me in displaying on my, oh I don’t really know its name but it sits atop the very old buffet of my mother. As I tried to describe it to others I remembered such antique words as “spode” and “toile”, whatever they meant.
As our admiration for the mysterious china grew, we chose it as the theme of my daughter’s new dining room. We purchased classic toile blue and white valences and I sewed a door curtain sporting a stylish blue braided tassel.
I began questioning both sides of my family to understand the meaning of such valuable legacies.
The paternal grandparent relatives had no recollection of grandma ever owning such. The maternal aunt recalled that the maternal grandmother hated any china bearing a pattern………..um?
We resorted to Mother Internet. She held the answer. These Enoch Wedgwood Liberty Blue dishes were given away at A & P grocery stores to honor the U.S. bi-centennial in 1976. Yes, I had actually heard the word Wedgwood somewhere at least! It was then I recalled that the paternal grandma was a serious celebrant of the bi-centennial, having tediously crocheted two king-sized flag coverlets. Apparently she shopped at A & P frequently in 1976 and never told her family.
At last our dining room found its sentimental meaning.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
My Cancer Companion
Seven is considered a lucky, perhaps sacred number. After my breast cancer diagnosis it was the number of years I imagined my survival to be. I am now fourteen years beyond diagnosis, an unexpected double blessing.
I have moved past the initial fear and panic, rush to cure, into an intimate cellular and emotional relationship with my cancer. It is now ownership, not victimization. Paradoxically I oppose and embrace it. It IS me, but I am more than it.
I have indeed met the enemy. It took away my breast, financial stability, vocation and “pseudo-sense of control”. It dramatically brought me into death’s lobby three times in five years. It destroyed any remnants of superficiality. Shopping and acquisition no longer satisfy. Matters of essence and eternity have replaced them.
Cancer is the great distiller, centrifuging truth to the surface, discarding toxins and purifying a person.
In the beginning I felt mostly shame and embarrassment. In 1995 pink ribbon mentality was less developed. Surely I was some sort of “health criminal” who had violated healthy living laws, perhaps consuming too much ice cream or McDonald's cheeseburgers. As a baby boomer I had lived my young adulthood in the 50’s ethic of caring for others first and was not attuned to the later “self care” culture. I should have been more self disciplined and “ yoga…ish.” As a psychotherapist of many years I was familiar with professional literature blaming disease on stress. My brain was bombarded by shoulds and shame.
A personal issue for me was my Minnesota upbringing. Self-effacement and “invisibility” are valued traits along with stoic silent suffering. The breast cancer diagnosis shot large holes in my need for invisibility. To complicate matters I moved away from all familiar identity to a small town in west Texas to support my husband’s executive position at a university. I arrived months after him as a balding post-mastectomy patient. Who was I? Who did they think I was? I left behind my breast, my home, my older teen-aged children, my job, my car, put my geriatric Shetland sheep dog to sleep and moved into an isolated rental house on the road to the prison. I knew no one.
Just as I later learned as a new widow, people don’t know how to “be” with those who are attacked by life’s bullets. Some avoid, some over attend and invalidize you. For someone who was always the “helper” the glaring status of cancer patient was uncomfortable and invasive.
I decided that loss of a breast seemed to mean the loss of your brain, your value, or your dependability. Others hesitated to make requests, overprotected you, and did not always include you. Such doubtful approaches leveled my self esteem which on some days already had a hard time standing alone.
Some well-meaning folks seemed fearful that cancer was contagious. Some interrogated you about your history and life habits hoping that they may be spared if theirs were different than yours. Some brought “cure” books sporting simple rules to recovery. They purported consuming algae and brown rice while you could barely keep water down after chemotherapy. Such simplicity seemed to calm their anxiety. It only made me feel my “wrongness”.
Even professional interaction could inflict wounds. My first oncologist never wore a smile and seemed more interested in her designer wardrobe than in me. One day she curtly commented that “at least I had something they could treat”. I did not know if I should apologize and internalized the comment that I was not even an adequate cancer patient. Fortunately I was allowed to meet more compassionate providers along the way.
Phase Two
My cancer resembles an Oreo cookie, beginning with its dark crumbly foundation. In the middle years it was filled with a sweet creamy center. For 9 years I only experienced cancer in anticipation of annual exams and possibly threatening outcomes. I rebuilt my life and work and experienced loving friends, children and grandchildren. Reality did continue its attack as I lost my husband and both parents and 3 beloved dogs within several years. The early cancer years had taught me critical survival lessons that held me in good stead during this grief and recovery process.
Suddenly one Sunday in January life slammed the dark top cookie over the sweet filling. My 105 degree fever and revelation of dreaded cancer recurrence attacking my colon hit me like a bomb. I was just one year away from no longer having to pay outrageously expensive high risk health insurance premiums. More important, I was no longer a poster child. This represented serious failure on my part. Over 5 months I experienced major colon surgery, chemotherapy and respiratory side effects from the chemo resulting in hospitalization for a month and ventilator dependence for 2 weeks. During the next 4 months I did rehab exercise and was tethered to home oxygen.
I never returned to the job, home and lifestyle I had just created in a small mid-Texas town and moved overnight to live near a major cancer treatment facility where my daughter lived. Through its personal and integrated services my outpatient recovery progressed. My rehab doctor poignantly reminded me that “you can’t hurry slow” and rehab is slow. Again, the question of who am I?
Phase Three
Fast forward several years. Life was good. Breathing freely was wonderful. I had sat down on a nail and getting up felt so very good. I still kept grieving all I had lost and whom I had been and imagined recreating it until……………I realized that we must let go of the life we planned in order to accept the life we have.
I obsessed over worthless thoughts such as wondering if I had time to finish tasks or fulfill dreams. Now that I had returned from death’s door twice this kind of preservation versus production mentality haunted me.
I had always felt abnormal, isolated, and bad in this life/death cancer dilemma until one day the light bulb turned on. I am just living the human dilemma common to us all. I might be more conscious of death lurking around the corner, but all of us live on that street. We live in a conspiracy of silence and denial. We act shocked (and of course saddened) when an acquaintance or loved one dies. Look at the evidence. We have no exceptions to this rule. Not to live in despair or doom we must look at truth head-on to really live. One of the strongest human fears is that of uncertainty. It can shrink in the evidence of certainty. We know what that certainty is about life. The body always betrays us. We must be attached to more than our physical body to be a survivor. We must inhabit our spirit and our mind. This is transendence. For me it is God’s grace granting me the faith to have purpose and comfort.
Phase Four
Okay. Back to the Oreo cookie analogy . Interesting that during this time Oreo came out with “double stuff” cookies. Just after my second cream filling came another black cookie layer! Because the cancer had spread we moved from hormone therapy to another big chemo weapon. Yes, this ammo again inflamed my lungs and resulted in another ventilator dependent icu stay only this time it was during a vacation to another state. What I learned………….strangers did not understand me and my condition as well as my primary oncologist. Because they did not know me they were encouraging my family to let me die. I am a believer in advance directives, but God told me in that ER very strongly that it was not right for me to execute that decision at that time.
Again, a 3 week stay and a 5 month rehab taught me patience. This time I really surrendered to accepting life as it came to me and the journey has been blessed. Friends, strangers, grandchildren, events have encircled me and sustained me to my core. I see that I have never needed anything I wasn’t provided although the grace frequently came at a different time and in a different form than I anticipated.
In January of this year I had a 3rd such episode and emerged from the ventilator realizing that we had taken enough risks from chemo and were now on our own.
I live in the spirit of love, faith and God’s grace dispensed to me. We all do and when you doubt just experience His gentle hand on your shoulder, love in the faces around you and receive hope. God is preparing a place for me and I hope that I am preparing for Him.
I have moved past the initial fear and panic, rush to cure, into an intimate cellular and emotional relationship with my cancer. It is now ownership, not victimization. Paradoxically I oppose and embrace it. It IS me, but I am more than it.
I have indeed met the enemy. It took away my breast, financial stability, vocation and “pseudo-sense of control”. It dramatically brought me into death’s lobby three times in five years. It destroyed any remnants of superficiality. Shopping and acquisition no longer satisfy. Matters of essence and eternity have replaced them.
Cancer is the great distiller, centrifuging truth to the surface, discarding toxins and purifying a person.
In the beginning I felt mostly shame and embarrassment. In 1995 pink ribbon mentality was less developed. Surely I was some sort of “health criminal” who had violated healthy living laws, perhaps consuming too much ice cream or McDonald's cheeseburgers. As a baby boomer I had lived my young adulthood in the 50’s ethic of caring for others first and was not attuned to the later “self care” culture. I should have been more self disciplined and “ yoga…ish.” As a psychotherapist of many years I was familiar with professional literature blaming disease on stress. My brain was bombarded by shoulds and shame.
A personal issue for me was my Minnesota upbringing. Self-effacement and “invisibility” are valued traits along with stoic silent suffering. The breast cancer diagnosis shot large holes in my need for invisibility. To complicate matters I moved away from all familiar identity to a small town in west Texas to support my husband’s executive position at a university. I arrived months after him as a balding post-mastectomy patient. Who was I? Who did they think I was? I left behind my breast, my home, my older teen-aged children, my job, my car, put my geriatric Shetland sheep dog to sleep and moved into an isolated rental house on the road to the prison. I knew no one.
Just as I later learned as a new widow, people don’t know how to “be” with those who are attacked by life’s bullets. Some avoid, some over attend and invalidize you. For someone who was always the “helper” the glaring status of cancer patient was uncomfortable and invasive.
I decided that loss of a breast seemed to mean the loss of your brain, your value, or your dependability. Others hesitated to make requests, overprotected you, and did not always include you. Such doubtful approaches leveled my self esteem which on some days already had a hard time standing alone.
Some well-meaning folks seemed fearful that cancer was contagious. Some interrogated you about your history and life habits hoping that they may be spared if theirs were different than yours. Some brought “cure” books sporting simple rules to recovery. They purported consuming algae and brown rice while you could barely keep water down after chemotherapy. Such simplicity seemed to calm their anxiety. It only made me feel my “wrongness”.
Even professional interaction could inflict wounds. My first oncologist never wore a smile and seemed more interested in her designer wardrobe than in me. One day she curtly commented that “at least I had something they could treat”. I did not know if I should apologize and internalized the comment that I was not even an adequate cancer patient. Fortunately I was allowed to meet more compassionate providers along the way.
Phase Two
My cancer resembles an Oreo cookie, beginning with its dark crumbly foundation. In the middle years it was filled with a sweet creamy center. For 9 years I only experienced cancer in anticipation of annual exams and possibly threatening outcomes. I rebuilt my life and work and experienced loving friends, children and grandchildren. Reality did continue its attack as I lost my husband and both parents and 3 beloved dogs within several years. The early cancer years had taught me critical survival lessons that held me in good stead during this grief and recovery process.
Suddenly one Sunday in January life slammed the dark top cookie over the sweet filling. My 105 degree fever and revelation of dreaded cancer recurrence attacking my colon hit me like a bomb. I was just one year away from no longer having to pay outrageously expensive high risk health insurance premiums. More important, I was no longer a poster child. This represented serious failure on my part. Over 5 months I experienced major colon surgery, chemotherapy and respiratory side effects from the chemo resulting in hospitalization for a month and ventilator dependence for 2 weeks. During the next 4 months I did rehab exercise and was tethered to home oxygen.
I never returned to the job, home and lifestyle I had just created in a small mid-Texas town and moved overnight to live near a major cancer treatment facility where my daughter lived. Through its personal and integrated services my outpatient recovery progressed. My rehab doctor poignantly reminded me that “you can’t hurry slow” and rehab is slow. Again, the question of who am I?
Phase Three
Fast forward several years. Life was good. Breathing freely was wonderful. I had sat down on a nail and getting up felt so very good. I still kept grieving all I had lost and whom I had been and imagined recreating it until……………I realized that we must let go of the life we planned in order to accept the life we have.
I obsessed over worthless thoughts such as wondering if I had time to finish tasks or fulfill dreams. Now that I had returned from death’s door twice this kind of preservation versus production mentality haunted me.
I had always felt abnormal, isolated, and bad in this life/death cancer dilemma until one day the light bulb turned on. I am just living the human dilemma common to us all. I might be more conscious of death lurking around the corner, but all of us live on that street. We live in a conspiracy of silence and denial. We act shocked (and of course saddened) when an acquaintance or loved one dies. Look at the evidence. We have no exceptions to this rule. Not to live in despair or doom we must look at truth head-on to really live. One of the strongest human fears is that of uncertainty. It can shrink in the evidence of certainty. We know what that certainty is about life. The body always betrays us. We must be attached to more than our physical body to be a survivor. We must inhabit our spirit and our mind. This is transendence. For me it is God’s grace granting me the faith to have purpose and comfort.
Phase Four
Okay. Back to the Oreo cookie analogy . Interesting that during this time Oreo came out with “double stuff” cookies. Just after my second cream filling came another black cookie layer! Because the cancer had spread we moved from hormone therapy to another big chemo weapon. Yes, this ammo again inflamed my lungs and resulted in another ventilator dependent icu stay only this time it was during a vacation to another state. What I learned………….strangers did not understand me and my condition as well as my primary oncologist. Because they did not know me they were encouraging my family to let me die. I am a believer in advance directives, but God told me in that ER very strongly that it was not right for me to execute that decision at that time.
Again, a 3 week stay and a 5 month rehab taught me patience. This time I really surrendered to accepting life as it came to me and the journey has been blessed. Friends, strangers, grandchildren, events have encircled me and sustained me to my core. I see that I have never needed anything I wasn’t provided although the grace frequently came at a different time and in a different form than I anticipated.
In January of this year I had a 3rd such episode and emerged from the ventilator realizing that we had taken enough risks from chemo and were now on our own.
I live in the spirit of love, faith and God’s grace dispensed to me. We all do and when you doubt just experience His gentle hand on your shoulder, love in the faces around you and receive hope. God is preparing a place for me and I hope that I am preparing for Him.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Should I let go of what I have in hopes of something better?
Six-month old baby Ryan sat in his playpen, pacifier in mouth.
His big blue eyes rested upon another pacifier sitting in the playpen.
He wore an expression of puzzled, pained exasperation.
What do I do?
He briefly tried putting the pacifier on his forehead, into his ear and onto another toy.
Aren’t we often totally satisfied with what soothes us until we see something else come across our path leaving us in dire indecision and discontentment?
Aren’t we often totally satisfied with what soothes us until we see something else come across our path leaving us in dire indecision and discontentment?
Monday, June 1, 2009
Meerkat Motto
Respect the Elders, Teach the Young,
Cooperate with the Family.
Play when you can, Work when you should
Rest In Between.
Share your Affection, Voice your Feelings,
Leave your Mark.
© Fellow Earthlings' Wildlife Center, Inc.
This motto is extremely wise advice. I love visiting the meerkats at the Houston Zoo. It is such a loyal and ethical society. One of my miniature-sized cats, Mercy, often seems to be a meerkat.
They leave us a powerful example as they begin the day the entire group faces East. At sunset the mob faces West. I want to remember to begin and end my days looking at my God.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Lessons Learned in Abilene
In 1995 God called my husband to establish a physical therapy school at Hardin Simmons University. God’s sense of humor brought two runaway Baptists to a Baptist University in a very Baptist town. My three favorite things are water, trees and hills. Outside of Abilene where we moved we had no water, no trees and no hills! I arrived there with a fresh cancer diagnosis and surgery and knew no one. I left behind my house, my children, my aging dog, my job, my car, my friends and my whole identity. I emerged 4 years later as a homeless widow.
Here is a brief list of lessons I learned in Abilene, a place I never imagined living:
1) My life is “standing on the scaffolding” always waiting for the elusive “final, settled” house to be built. I now know it is heaven that I am imagining.
2) I met an “Angel in the Alley” who ministered to my yard and my pool…and my soul after Bill died.
3) Life is “not about you”.
4) You always worry about the wrong things.
5) I had a great experience getting to know the family of God.
6) “Lord, why didn’t you just email the plan? Why did I have to go through all of this?
7) My life has been a smorgasbord of preparation…why so many interruptions between servings?
8) Best advice: “Just do the next thing.”
9) All my needs were met…….but in His time.
10) It was all beyond my imagination.
11) I love the blessing of fur……….I want to be a Noah in Heaven.
12) “Lord, You want me to do WHAT!”
13) I told you Lord I was willing to die but you wanted me to live and follow your mission.
14) What if I had told you “no!”? I certainly would have missed the blessing.
15) Knowing that things will fall into place after you surrender bears no correlation to a hurry towards surrender.
16) I experienced “addition by subtraction”.
17) I began to understand “lost and found” and that the “found” sometimes transcends the “lost” in ways you would never guess.
18) Stuff does not matter.
Here is a brief list of lessons I learned in Abilene, a place I never imagined living:
1) My life is “standing on the scaffolding” always waiting for the elusive “final, settled” house to be built. I now know it is heaven that I am imagining.
2) I met an “Angel in the Alley” who ministered to my yard and my pool…and my soul after Bill died.
3) Life is “not about you”.
4) You always worry about the wrong things.
5) I had a great experience getting to know the family of God.
6) “Lord, why didn’t you just email the plan? Why did I have to go through all of this?
7) My life has been a smorgasbord of preparation…why so many interruptions between servings?
8) Best advice: “Just do the next thing.”
9) All my needs were met…….but in His time.
10) It was all beyond my imagination.
11) I love the blessing of fur……….I want to be a Noah in Heaven.
12) “Lord, You want me to do WHAT!”
13) I told you Lord I was willing to die but you wanted me to live and follow your mission.
14) What if I had told you “no!”? I certainly would have missed the blessing.
15) Knowing that things will fall into place after you surrender bears no correlation to a hurry towards surrender.
16) I experienced “addition by subtraction”.
17) I began to understand “lost and found” and that the “found” sometimes transcends the “lost” in ways you would never guess.
18) Stuff does not matter.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Imprisoned
Today I was imprisoned in the world of my small self,
a shrunken world confined to trivia,Thoughts of other people held in terms of ME;
only disappointment in everything I see.
Today I missed God’s glory
ablaze on sunlit trees
lost instead in self absorption
blind to all that’s free.
I dwelt within the small world forbidding love, refusing light,
Clutching pride, defending ME.
My world of self soon withers, growing cold in oblique night.
It cannot grow, exist without God’s sunshine bright.
God is Love; God is Light.
May I know the big world of God’s love and liberty
no more to dwell within the confines of my prison.
I cannot imprison God in that small world of just me.
“The Lord sets free the prisoners”. Psalm 146:7
a poem written by Sharon Danielson Gould in 1964 while in college.
a shrunken world confined to trivia,Thoughts of other people held in terms of ME;
only disappointment in everything I see.
Today I missed God’s glory
ablaze on sunlit trees
lost instead in self absorption
blind to all that’s free.
I dwelt within the small world forbidding love, refusing light,
Clutching pride, defending ME.
My world of self soon withers, growing cold in oblique night.
It cannot grow, exist without God’s sunshine bright.
God is Love; God is Light.
May I know the big world of God’s love and liberty
no more to dwell within the confines of my prison.
I cannot imprison God in that small world of just me.
“The Lord sets free the prisoners”. Psalm 146:7
a poem written by Sharon Danielson Gould in 1964 while in college.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Brief
To update the curve on the journey………….feeling good but choices to fight the almost 15 year cancer companion have ended in the chemo world without guaranteeing lung collapse and 3 times are enough for that.
I am placing an order for God’s rod and staff and bright lights for the shadow trip. I invite you to walk it with me, my friends. We are already walking it as earth people. Join hands. I am walking with you on your journey. God is walking with us all and He holds the map.
I am placing an order for God’s rod and staff and bright lights for the shadow trip. I invite you to walk it with me, my friends. We are already walking it as earth people. Join hands. I am walking with you on your journey. God is walking with us all and He holds the map.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Mother
Photo of me, David and Susan in 1978My Mother's Day Memories
… May 1958, a Minnesota church basement “mother-daughter tea” adorned in hat, gloves and a home-made Chanel suit reciting a mother- honoring poem. God is good.
…May 1973, smelling the sweet innocence of my red-headed first-born and of his daddy’s honorary red roses. God is good.
…May 1978, caressing in awe my beautiful “rosebud” infant daughter, believing that life could never be better than loving my children God is good.
…May 2000, grieving a mother lost at 88 two months earlier and my life-long husband of 57 ten months prior, I felt understandably fragile. Driving to church in my husband’s car I experienced an epiphany that I would thank God for it and begin calling it “my” car. Some peace began to grow in my heart as I recall crossing the bridge on First Avenue where the surrender occurred.
On the way home, growing more comfortable in my break-through, my car was hit by a drunk driver where we were the only 2 cars on the quiet road in front of the university. I sat pitifully on the curb with police and tow truck tearfully reviewing my bruises and never saw the car again.
After 2 days in the ugliest purple rental car ever made, I received courage to go to the Toyota dealer and ask them if they intended to repair the Avalon as good as new and they assured me they would. With a sudden burst of courage I told them that was good because they could keep it and give me the Rav 4 demo on their lot in exchange. I have driven this car for 9 years now and it has met my economy and lifestyle needs more perfectly than the older inherited Avalon ever would. A lesson of surrender where I was given exactly what I would need hours after the epiphany. God is good.
Oh, a footnote……later that evening when my son called to ask me how my Mother’s Day had gone I replied “SMASHING, SIMPLY SMASHING”!
...May 2004, an ICU life/death crisis while I was on a ventilator with chemotherapy side effects (which also occurred in 2007 and 2009) while my children and their new church prayed for my recovery. Again. God is good.
…May 2009, God has granted me the love of 4 grandchildren and I discovered that life could actually be even better than I could have imagined in 1978 . Love can peak, but then the real epitome is the overflow of that love. I love my children and their mates even more as they parent. Who could have known this joy?
God is good.
Anatomy
The grandbaby’s greatest accomplishment to date is getting his foot into his mouth.
His grandma’s greatest hope to date is the ability to get hers out!
His grandma’s greatest hope to date is the ability to get hers out!
Saturday, April 18, 2009
A Restart after Easter: Personal Perspective
These essays seem to be shifting to a more conversational mode. To those of you blessed and patient readers, I feel the need for me to have more personal process. Please feel free to comment, or email. Prepare for random, rambling commentary on my inner and outer life. Spell check will make frequent attacks about “fragment” in its critique.
“Be where you are.” I am aware of being in a unique position for me. I have always been a doer, life dictated by those with whom I am related…..work, clients, family, and friends. Now I am a “watcher”, “observer”, reflector, feeler, not a doer. During the first few years of widowhood I manically created a second “twenties” decade of possibility and laid down foundation for what I imagined to be the birth of life’s second half. I moved, built and decorated a house, started a counseling business.
Five years ago when cancer reattacked I began the era of “reduction”. I spent a lot of effort pretending to be who I used to be and imagining how to recreate it. Slowly I have surrendered what I don’t have and begun being where I am. I have discovered gifts of time, gifts of perspective and some acceptance that life goes forward, not backward.
My most stubborn surrender has been letting go of being in charge and commenting on everything I see as if my opinion really mattered. Lots of mouth bruises as I bite my tongue. As I watch children, grandchildren, friends and television characters rightfully live their lives, I am discerning what is my business and what is not…..which I have always said is the most important distinction in life and can cause the most misery. Two disclaimers: I will yell and run if a child is headed into traffic and I will answer as thoughtfully as possible when actually asked. Otherwise I will notice and pray for what I see.
“Be where you are.” I am aware of being in a unique position for me. I have always been a doer, life dictated by those with whom I am related…..work, clients, family, and friends. Now I am a “watcher”, “observer”, reflector, feeler, not a doer. During the first few years of widowhood I manically created a second “twenties” decade of possibility and laid down foundation for what I imagined to be the birth of life’s second half. I moved, built and decorated a house, started a counseling business.
Five years ago when cancer reattacked I began the era of “reduction”. I spent a lot of effort pretending to be who I used to be and imagining how to recreate it. Slowly I have surrendered what I don’t have and begun being where I am. I have discovered gifts of time, gifts of perspective and some acceptance that life goes forward, not backward.
My most stubborn surrender has been letting go of being in charge and commenting on everything I see as if my opinion really mattered. Lots of mouth bruises as I bite my tongue. As I watch children, grandchildren, friends and television characters rightfully live their lives, I am discerning what is my business and what is not…..which I have always said is the most important distinction in life and can cause the most misery. Two disclaimers: I will yell and run if a child is headed into traffic and I will answer as thoughtfully as possible when actually asked. Otherwise I will notice and pray for what I see.
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