Putting Christmas Away

We put the last of the Christmas decor away this afternoon. We leave for Nashville in the morning to spend the long weekend at the Opryland Hotel, just us. I didn't want to come back into a new year with last year's Christmas things still here and there. All of our decor fits into 1 tote and 1 small box. My friend Donna has 20 totes of decorations, so I think I am doing well to have just one. As I wrapped the few pretty glass ornaments I have in bubble wrap, I wondered, just for a moment,  if I would touch them again next year. The moment passed, but just to be sure the ornaments would survive another trip down the scary pull down attic stairs, I wrote "Fragile" on the outside of the box in pretty curlicue letters. A reminder to whoever brought them down that the box held something precious. A few shiny glass ice cream cone ornaments, testaments of my dear friends' care for me. A gold engraved ornament from 1977, our one year anniversary. A ceramic angel, made by my daughter in elementary school years ago. All have stories, have been touched many times, now finding their way back into the attic. Today we put all that away, because tomorrow we drive into a new year, and a new adventure.

Doing the Dishes

My husband had his 11th chemotherapy treatment yesterday. He has more to do yet, but the worst is over.  He has to carry around a little pack that has a pump in it that pumps more chemo into him for 42 more hours, until the nurse comes and takes out the needle and takes the pump away. This does not stop him from doing the dishes for us. We have settled into a satisfactory domestic routine: I cook, he cleans up. I work outside the home, he takes care of the house. We both get tired and sometimes cranky, both get scared and sometimes teary. We both get up everyday and do our chores, because that is what there is to do, and neither of us wants the other one to have to do more. Or less. The routine keeps life normal, even when it isn't normal. Even when you have to watch out for the plastic tubing snaking under your shirt, or the needle poking into your chest. My husband does the dishes for us because he is brave and doesn't complain about those things. He takes care of us this way and one day he won't have to fiddle with pumps and pouches and needles and tubing. He will feel good again, with his thick hair regrown. He is giving me a tremendous gift, the gift of normal, in an abnormal time. He is doing the dishes.

To give love

We can be too hard on people. We want them to know us, by somehow picking up every obtuse clue we leave, and read into our hearts and minds. We want them to give us what we want, even when we don't know what that is. Did you get what you wanted for Christmas? Did you get the ipad, the iphone, the cordless drill, the vacation trip to Aruba? Did you get a clean PET scan? Did you get new eyes, new ears, better hair? Did you realize that the gifts you received that you didn't want were because you held back, you were secretive, obtuse, wishing someone would know you better? Did you give similar gifts?  We want others to know us, to give us what we cannot gain for ourselves, to listen to us, to hold us, to cheer us on. We want to be loved, because that is the one gift that does not need to be returned to a store. We want to love, and have that love received in the manner that it is given...freely, without reserve or guile.  All other things will fade and break and become obsolete. Did we get what we wanted for Christmas...did we give what others wanted? Let us give love, and receive love in return. Let this be the best possible gift, the one we always want above all else, let every other thing fade.

White Paper

I am reading a book about healing through love. Letting go of pain, and loving others, as the key to better health. I was telling my friend Kristie about it, and then was imagining what would happen if you could let go of this pain by checking into a hotel with a roll of white freezer paper and some Sharpies and spend a day writing down all the emotional baggage you carried in the form of wounds that other people had caused you. Then, I thought, knowing something of God, that it wouldn't be long before you started writing down the wounds you had caused others. Friendships that you had let die, promises and hearts you broke. When you have lived a long time, the clean white paper would quickly fill up with dreary reminders of others and our human failings, our lack of empathy, our neediness, our cruelty. After all the tedious writing, you could forgive yourself and those that needed forgiveness and start new. My smart husband thinks there is a better way to purge the past and move into the future. He thinks it would be better to write down the characteristics that you want to own, and then ask God to show you how to own them. That way, the person of hope and peace and joy would always answer in love and find true healing.

The Way Made Plain

We can travel the broken road. We can veer off the paved road and enter a place of bumps and ditches and dead ends. We can decide that we are bored with the routine and venture out into the unknown and unsure, looking for adventure, or a short cut. We can get lost. At that point, we then wonder what happened. Where are the signs, the comforting lights, the warm eateries, the gas stations, the cozy bed? Why is there a flat tire, dropping temperatures, empty stomach, empty pockets, sore feet? How do I get out of here? How do I get home? There is a story in the Bible about a man who did this. Actually, just about every story in the Bible is about every person, except one, who did this. Starting in the Garden, we have never been satisfied with the marked way. We think we know better, we allow ourselves to be swayed by thoughts of disobedience, fueled by distrust. We don't realize that the way made plain will take us where we are designed to go. Sometimes the way leads us deep into the valley, sometimes over the mountain. Sometimes through boring deserts, sometimes through endless terrain of exhilarating forests and crystal clear rivers. This way always has signs, always has lights and rests, always takes us home.

Only God

I was waiting all day for a call from my almost ex-doctor. Somehow I thought he might call, wonder how I was doing, talk about my elevated cancer antigen number, recommend some kind of new plan of treatment. I would be all calm and confident; yes, I know about the elevated number, no I don't want to do any more chemo, maybe I will schedule an appointment in January. But he didn't call, so all my bravado turned to sorrow and desolation. For a few minutes. Then I looked at the beautiful sunset on my drive home and remembered God's word that He would never leave us or forsake us. Our names are engraved on the palms of His Hands. He knows us intimately and cares for us constantly. He is with us in every moment of every day. He calls us and calls us. I would have answered my doctor's call in a breathless second, but God's calls I sometimes miss. Or, sadly, ignore. He never leaves messages. He just keeps calling. Hello, God, this is Amy. I am scared, and sad, and somehow feeling less than wonderful today. You love me? Ahhh, that sounds so good to hear. Don't be afraid? Well, ok I will try to do that. Trust in You alone? Yes, I know, I need to do that too. I will do that right now. I love You, too.

Well Being

A buzz word for current times, the company I work for promotes well being in a myriad of ways. I try to keep up with all the layers the word impacts; emotional, physical and spiritual. The implied intent is for one to be the master of it all, but living takes it's toll. I guess, in reality, well being really means living well, no matter the circumstance. In our culture, living well might mean living with all your needs met, new car in the garage, loving spouse and children, lavish vacations. In my little world, living well means enjoying takeout chinese food, savoring every morsel, giving a tidbit to the waiting cat. It means taking time to finish a book, knit a Christmas gift, wash my dad's clothes. Living well means not worrying too much that the cancer is not going away, it means living as fully as possible for as long as possible. Well being is not taking for granted the gifts that we have been given in the form of faithful friends, healthy grandchildren, a sound mind, a full refrigerator. What I gain in eating more vegetables, walking 3 miles a day, daily communion with God is the strength to live well today. We can't really store it all up, it needs to be spent every day. Well being is being able to start every morning sure that this day will be the best ever.

Anderson Maxwell Butler

I haven't met you, but I know you. I know your mother. I know she likes to talk, and teach, and she puts 110 percent into everything she does. She has a contagious laugh. She loves to shop and play, she won't stop until she falls exhausted into bed at the end of the day. She loves Jesus.
I know your father. He is smart and dedicated to his family and he puts 110 percent into everything he does. He is clever with his hands, and can build beautiful things out of wood. He is not too manly to buy a sewing machine and learn how to use it. He loves to fly and play, he won't stop until he falls exhausted into bed at the end of the day. He loves Jesus.
I know the One who called you into being, who chose you before the beginning of the world to live a life that honors Him. He has already planned wonderful things for you to do, he has counted every hair on your tiny head, he knows you better that you will ever know yourself. He loves you.
I know you, little one, and I love you, too. When I meet you, I will look into your eyes and see your mother, your father...all those who have preceded you, and those that will follow you. And Jesus.

Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving Day my husband and I walked our first 10K. Several of my good friends joined us. We wore matching turkey headbands. The weather was cold and drizzly. We were accompanied by 13,000 others who have helped make the Cincinnati Turkey Trot the oldest 10K event in the midwest. Not being an athlete, this is all new and exciting for me. We had a wonderful time walking on normally busy, now closed, city streets,  crossing the bridges back and forth over the Ohio River. We passed children, people on crutches, people walking with deformed limbs...and some of those people passed us, with the effort and determination marked on their faces. As we neared the finish line, we had that feeling of accomplishment that is what drives all of us to try harder, face our challenges, be courageous. As the rest of the day unfolded into grand feasts with family and friends, lazy evenings in front of the televised football games, I could feel the benefits of the early morning event. The strong heartbeat, the relaxed muscles, the joie of the day filling every corner of my soul. Today, my turkey headband is on display, as well as my race bib, as a reminder to be thanks giving to the ones who love us so much.

Giving Every Day

Chapter 8 of Crazy Love talks about giving. Being generous, not hoarding things for ourselves, knowing that one day we will leave here and all our things will belong to someone else. While we accumulate things that please us, others are going hungry and living in ghettos and shacks, lacking medical care and clean water. So, we challenged our group to give something away every day, for the next 14 days. It is not always money, but it usually is. It can be time, or talents, sharing what we already have with someone who needs it more. It could be as simple as overtipping or sending a check in to the multitude of charitable requests this time of your. It could be cleaning out the closet, selling the forgotten jewelry and giving the money away, donating old books to the library. Each day will bring a unique opportunity to bring a gift to someone else. Listen to God's spirit, leading you to those who need you. Let go of the fear that causes you to keep things back, guarding those things in case you might need them. Be willing to enter into someone else's painful life, and give them your love. We have a Savior who did that for us.

Enough

I just got back from a wonderful weekend with some of my best friends. We rented a big house and spent 2 days shopping, soaking in the hot tub, eating, watching movies and sharing our stories. The first night, we made a big fire in the firepit and, at 11:11, on 11/11/11, held hands and thought of what thing we really wanted to happen for ourselves or someone else. Later that night, I dreamt that I was standing with a large crowd of people who had come to see the man standing the front of the place. As I stood with the crowd, not sure what I would ask him, he beckoned me to him and placed his hand on my head. Then I woke up. I am not much for remembering dreams, but this one spoke to me. The man was Jesus, and he was calling me to himself. I was glad to be called. In rethinking this dream, I realize that at 11:11, on 11/11/11, the one thing I want to happen for myself is to know that I am going to be with Jesus for all time. That the place he said he was preparing for us will include me. No matter what I may do that fails him, or what I may say that hurts him, he wants me with him. That is enough for me. There is nothing else I want to know about the future except that he is calling me to be with him. And I am glad to go.

Marriage

I don't normally read People Magazine because I hate that I am curious about the lives of celebrities, or celebrity wanna be's. It is hard not to see it on the way out of my favorite store (Walgreen's) since it is right out in front of the checkout counter. This issue had a picture of Kim Kardashian in her wedding dress with the headline blaring "marriage fail or fake". Now fake I get, but how can a marriage fail after 72 days? Richard and I married right after college. That was 35 years ago. I remember the times when I thought our marriage was failing. Those times were scary and sad, when the life challenges woven into our daily routines became more important than nurturing our love for each other. Those times when we didn't listen to the other's cries, didn't understand that one's struggles were both of our struggles, and had no words of comfort. When we walked our self righteousness and self satisfaction into the relationship, the thing shuddered and buckled like a paper boat on a raging sea. We learned over the years that together we were able to overcome any challenge, whether a death, or a rebel, sickness, poverty, downsizing, and the greatest one, our endless insecurities. Sounds like the marriage vows. By God's grace, we kept them.

Finding Yourself

Years of wandering in life's wilderness, in forests of feasts and famine, can disorient even the most stable soul. One day sunny, the next day cold and rain. One day bunnies, the next day wolves. As time passes, and what looks fair becomes foul, or foul fair, the soul wonders which way is the way out. All guides are ghouls, or maybe not, and what looks like progress ends back at the beginning. It is odd, finding yourself in such a place. A person is expected to set goals and make plans, forge ahead, stay the course, finish the race. In such a place, where up is down and bad is good, it is difficult to do. I have never been a goal setter or long range planner. I like to imagine and dream, playing by the water with sandcastles and shell people royalty and watch others wrestle with the ocean surf.  Today I am no longer playing to win. I just want to play. When I was a child, and life in my household became too overwhelming, I lost myself in play. Or found myself. I am there now, when life has become too confusing and challenging, and bad is good then bad again. I find myself longing to play, to find a spot where it is quiet and calm. I can set a little table with little cupcakes, and all is well. If you see me playing, know that I am safe at last.

Daily Bread

I don't know why I am always amazed at times when God orchestrates a day that has "I know you, I see you, I love you" written all over it. I have had lots of those days, over the years, and each one is a surprise, full of wonder. Today was one of those days. Richard went to get his 7th chemotherapy treatment, and paired with us in the little treatment room was a pastor of a church in Cincinnati. He was getting his first dose of the same treatment Rich gets, for a recurrence of pancreatic cancer. We shared our stories, were present when the doctor, same doctor that treats Rich, came in to see the pastor and talk to him about his treatment plan. We all prayed together, doctor, patients, caregivers, HIPPA out the window. There were tears, hugs, encouragement and shared sufferings lifted up to the throne of God, prayers heard, hearts lifted. Who does not know the love of God? It is in the chemo room in a little building in West Chester, Ohio. It fills every space, warms every heart. Who has not lifted up his eyes unto the hills, crying for help? He is here, full of hope and peace and promises. Today is bread and water for tired souls, weary from fighting, finding comfort in each other's suffering. Strength for today, courage for tomorrow.

New Stories

We are hosting a book study on Sunday night, reading the book Crazy Love by Francis Chan. The discussion follows our relationship with God, from the first days to now, examining the power and wonder of it. We all have stories to share of the first time we knew He loved us, or that we loved Him. We also share stories of times when we felt close to Him, and participated in an "out of the ordinary" experience when God was obviously using us to interact with another person. Some of these stories were in the long ago past, still fondly remembered and treasured. I have a friend who is pursuing God and working hard to improve health care in poor countries. His stories, and there are many, are each one new and recent and full of power. We reminisced about our travels together, but while I have stopped, he has continued in the work and the zeal and fire is strong in his words. I envied him, for a minute, because his stories are fresh and mine are stale. Then I realized that all I have to do is step outside of the ordinary, into God's Kingdom, and offer myself to whomever He chooses. Together, we will have a new story, one of redemption, grace, the power heal, to bind wounds, to set the captive free. It can happen every day.

Choosing What You Know to Do

Many times we come to a place where we must make a life impacting decision. When I was a kid we watched Let's Make a Deal. In that show, there were 3 doors. Behind Door #1 was new living room furniture, behind Door #2 was a new TV, behind Door #3 was a rusty old jalopy. Only the contestant didn't know this. When the time came to choose, we all hoped he or she would pick one of the great prizes, but sometimes Door #3 was the one chosen. Rusty jalopy. When we face a difficult choice, we can feel like that contestant, like there is a terrible prize behind one of those choices and we are afraid that is the one we will get. The fear keeps us stressed out and overcome with worry. All that fear has to do with the imagined future that rides on that single decision. I have learned that when you choose what you know to do, and only ride the single day that decision impacts, then the stress and worry vanishes. This is actually what Jesus meant when he said not to worry. When we choose what we know to do, today, we choose to operate in the truth that is presented to us in the here and now. We must believe that we have been given enough information to make the best choice, to live in the light and walk in faith.

Birthdays

It is my daughter's birthday today. She is 27. She lives in Miami, Florida so we had to do the celebration by mail and phone. Birthdays have always been a pretty big deal in my family. As kids, my parents allowed us to have a party every other year, and it was no small affair. One year, I had a Detective party, and the guests were fingerprinted, and had to find clues to solve a crime. Now you can buy a party game with everything already designed for you ( Mary had one of those parties, too) but, when I was a kid, my father thought the whole thing up himself. My husband's birthday was yesterday, and we didn't have a party. We did have dinner at a nice restaurant. Birthdays really need more, though, something with the joy of children's laughter and silly games, birthday cake and candles, lots of presents. I have had lots of birthdays, but the ones I remember best were the ones filled with happy noise. Maybe our next birthdays should be held at Chuck E Cheese. Even if the children screaming are not ours, we can still pretend. We can have big balloons and cheap plastic party favors and play skeeball. We can have our picture taken with Chuck E himself, and fill up on cake and ice cream. Happy Birthday to you!

Do Something

There is a line in the movie Truman Show that I love. It is a scene where Truman (Jim Carrey) and his "wife" (Laura Linney) are fighting and she looks up at the hidden camera and says "Do Something!" Now Truman has never imagined that he lived in an artificial world, with an all seeing eye, until this moment; and from then on he sets on a path to finding out what kind of world he actually lives in. Sometimes I have felt like that...I am in a bad situation and it looks like it is only going to get worse...and I look to the all seeing eye in the sky and shout "Do Something!!" What am I expecting? The checkbook to balance, the car to start, the termites to disappear, the PET scan to be normal? I am holding in my hands the evidence of my battered life, and I want it to be all better, right now. I spent Saturday afternoon watching a live simulcast from the leadership at Partners in Health, and the stories of their service to the poor and destitute in far away places humbled me. Those ultra poor people, in their battered lives, do they look skyward and shout at the all seeing eye "Do Something?". Do they expect relief of any sort? Do they know God put it there, in our hands, as we decide whether to help them and do something...maybe not, but we do. What ever there is to do, do it all for the Glory of God, the all seeing eye... do something.

God School

It is a disservice to tell folks that if they would only put their trust in God, everything in life gets easier. Your children suddenly mind you, you get the promotion you have been passed over for, your car runs better, your relationships become more fulfilling. Not only is it a disservice, it is downright wrong. Once we put our trust in God, we enroll in God School. This school is in session every single day, we have daily tests and quizzes, we have mountains of homework. Graduation day is the day we leave this earth and stand in front of Him, and He says "Well done, good and faithful servant." Meanwhile, we are constantly faced with all the same challenges we have always had to face in school; taunters and teasers, cliques, disappointments, failure, pressure to succeed, insolence, repetition, boredom, and the finiteness of a brain that cannot understand hard concepts. We have good days too, of course, days when it all makes sense and we got our homework in on time, when we got picked first for dodgeball, and the popular kids made room for us at the lunch table, when we set the grade curve. God School is hard because it is designed to make us better, wiser, kinder, whole. More like Him, and that is good. No wonder it takes a lifetime.

Pink

I have been wearing my new pink wig all weekend. It is amazing how positive the responses are, even from perfect strangers at the Whole Foods Market. Maybe the folks that think I am a nut are less outspoken. At any rate, I have learned the best lesson about life and I have tested my hypothesis and found it to stand strong. When you have an emotional burden, weighted down with it to the point of breaking, you feel that in order to survive, the burden must be borne to others and thus shared, which would relieve the pain of carrying it. However, this does not actually provide the desired effect. Instead, those that are exposed to this burden may sympathize, or show concern or maybe even avoid you, and this can make you feel even worse when you realize that your pain is causing pain for others. No one can take the burden off your shoulders. No one can exchange your sorrow for joy. You must sow the seeds of joy yourself, with God's guidance. You must choose to plant these seeds and let their fruit create a sweet savor that attracts people. Your joy then becomes theirs, and they can, and will, give it back to you. Joy lifts the burden and carries it far away. One of the nine fruit of the Spirit...joy. I think it's color is pink.

Starting Over Again

Where we are is where we have been, there is nothing new under the sun, what has happened before will happen again...these are all thoughts from the Book of Ecclesiastes, which I just finished. Again. I used to dislike this book of the Old Testament, except for the part that was made famous in a song by the Byrds, because it was depressing. Life was all meaningless...eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow you die kind of stuff. Except for the last chapter, which talks about serving God. Now that I am older,  I better understand the writer's perspective on life, on life as it was understood before Jesus. Of course, it all looked so pointless, to work hard and save money just to leave it to those who would spend it for you. No hope of resurrection or redemption. The good and the wicked ending in the same way, without distinction or reward. I am glad that there is a New Testament, which brings hope to our lives. When we face our eventual departure from life, we can do it with hope and courage. When we determine that our remaining days will be spent in freedom from the battering of others', and our own, destructive words and actions, and take hold of the gift of life that is set before us, we will see how great the love of God is for us.

Playing with Dolls

I have a fascination for old dolls, ones made in the 1950's. These were not dolls that I played with as a child, because I was too young for these hard plastic, articulated and,then, costly dolls. I remember having a Patty Play Pal, and a Chatty Cathy, and, of course, Barbie. I liked Chatty Cathy because she had buck teeth like I did. Anyway, you can find all these old dolls on Ebay in various conditions, and for various prices. Some are new in the box, and I wonder where they have been for these past 50 years. I like to look at dolls when I am feeling sad, or worried about something. Maybe it is the reminder of the play of childhood, or the desire to have a little creature that I can manipulate however I choose. I was gathering Madame Alexander Cissette dolls a few years ago, and now it is Betsy McCall. I am selling the Cissettes on Ebay now, dressed in new little clothes that I made them, with little shoes and stockings and hats. They have imaginary lives, and go to imaginary parties all dressed up. Eternally young in face, even as the elastic that holds them together is aging and breaking and the plastic has stains and cracks. Somehow like us, yet able to keep that enigmatic expression. All it takes is a little care, and she is good as new.

Not abandoned

We heard a soul searching sermon yesterday at church. What part of our heart have we not given completely to God? I like to think that I am good with God, but realized yesterday that I have been harboring a fair amount of Job like anger and distrust of Him and His purpose and plan for me. Us. It has been hard to pray about our situation without sometimes feeling as full of as much spiritual poison as chemo poison. Last night, while pondering how I could apply the sermon to my life, I read 2 Corinthians 1:8-11. It goes like this: "I think you ought to know, dear brothers and sisters, about the trouble we went through in the province of Asia. We were crushed and completely overwhelmed, and we thought we would never live through it. In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we learned not to rely on ourselves, but on God who can raise the dead. And he did deliver us from mortal danger. And we are confident that he will continue to deliver us." I realized I was not giving God my whole heart. Not for a long time. It had become hard and bitter in the places where I needed Him the most. He is speaking to me about trust and faith and love, and I am turning away. Yet, I am in mortal danger, and He is my only hope. I am not abandoned, or doomed. I am loved, I will be raised to life. Open up, o heart, and sing again.

Poolside

It was a lovely day to swim in the pool. When I arrived there this morning, the water was glassy, the chairs empty. I was the only one there, and drifted in the perfectly clear, perfect temperature water for some relaxing minutes, enjoying my private reverie. Then I began to long for the click of the gate, and friendly footsteps of family bringing fried chicken, potato salad, a little red headed girl. I was lonely for laughter, and music, and silly splashy pool games. The empty chairs held the promise of a glorious afternoon, but no one was expected and no one came. I ate Collette's stale goldfish quietly and drank my iced tea, knitting,  remembering family days this summer. We had many of them, each one filled to the brim with the things that make life so wonderful, the joys of loving and being loved. I imagined them back to life, and was restored by the memories. Our lives, so close, so far, moving so fast, taking the time to slow down. Each goldfish cracker was a testament to car rides and bike rides and walks to the park. Each empty pool chair held a wet towel, swimmies, mommy and little girl shoes. I looked up at the clouds and felt the sun, and heard the laughter, and loved the life I am in. So full, so loved, so blessed.

Good Haircut, Part Two

For the second time in 4 years, my hair has fallen out. The first time, I was astonished at the process, mourned my loss, and over the months of baldness, developed a fondness for tiedyed bandanas, handknit and newsboy style caps. I had a wig that I detested, it was a style cut that was too old for me, and the color was a washed out blonde...but it was only $18 and hey, I wasn't going to need it long. I sold it 2 years ago, gratefully saying goodbye to a time in my life that I was glad to be past. Now I am here again, no longer astonished, but still mournful, unsure if I will ever have real hair on my head again. I remember well meaning cancer survivors coming up to me in my bandana days, offering me hope and encouragement, a promise of healthy future when those days passed. I am not in that healthy future, yet, and my vanishing hair is evidence of that. So I have a better wig now, one that matches the hair color of my youth, with highlights. And without the pesky waves. I will wear it all the time, because I don't want the brave cancer survivors thinking I am a newbie, and finding out the scary truth. I will keep my happy face, because I want to, I need to, I have to. When you see me, see the fight, not the wig. It still is my hair, paid dearly for, after all.

Vantage Point

One look at the newspaper today, and one could think things couldn't get much worse on our blue planet. This then poses a familiar question...why does God allow suffering? Lately I heard the best response to this question...why do we? It would seem that most of the suffering we read about today is a direct result of mankind's unkindness, not God's. Our indifference to others, our closed circles of influence, our metered kindness unbalances the world, and sets dangerous and dark sequences into motion. Sequences that lead to stealing, killing and destroying. Shining light on suffering, and bringing relief to those who suffer, sets another sequence into motion, one of redemption, hope and, ultimately, love. From this vantage point, it is easy to see that one person, deciding to bring relief to another person's suffering, for even one hour, would create a dynamic that would bring balance back into the world. For the relief of suffering would extend not just to the one person, but also to their family, friends and community.  What would happen on our blue planet if each one of us decided that this would be the last day that we would close our eyes to the suffering of someone else, that starting tomorrow we would make it our business to relieve that suffering, even for one hour.  Show me who, God, show me how. Everyday, it will get better for us all.

No Reason Not To

Life has lots of hoops, hurdles, detours to jump through, over and around. Over time, we get tired and come up with reasons not to do things, or even hope for things. We might have reasons why we should keep doing and hoping, but the reason not to seems more powerful, ominous, even if more abstract and unnamed. It stops us before we start, this unnamed reason, because it sets us onto a path of fear and anxiety. We can't see where it goes, we don't know how long it will take, we hear growls in the forest and imagine wild beasts ready to tear us apart. This is the opposite of the way we are instructed to think about things in the Bible. We are instructed to put our hope in God, to not worry about our lives, to think about good reports. We have no reason not to hope for God to bless us, to help us, to heal us, to save us, to deliver us from imaginary wild beasts. We have no reason not to hope that the cancer will go away, that we will have enough money to stay independent, that our children will be successful, that we will be useful to others. We can look back at how far we have come, the hoops and hurdles jumped, the detours navigated, the blessings from every event in our lives that opened us up to people and places that have inspired and encouraged us. We have no reason not to hope, only reasons to keep hoping, in a God who loves us all.

Amy1

I have another friend in heaven today. She actually went there yesterday. She was 36 earth years old. Sometimes having friends younger than you does not guarantee that they will outlive you, and you may still have to deal with the hole that is left in your life when they are gone. She and I had the same doctor, and almost the same disease. She was brave and funny and full of faith. Sometimes we would talk on the phone late at night and she was not so brave, or funny, or full of faith. That's what made her wonderful and a good friend to me. We could take off our happy faces and look squarely at the reality of our situation, wrestle it to the ground together, and keep going. It makes things easier when you have a friend like that. She was able to be that friend for many people at the same time, but I would be glad to be able to be that friend even just for one other person. She left so many gifts for those of us who knew her that it will be a long time before we fully realize that she is not with us still. Maybe we don't have to miss her so much, maybe we can just open the card again, as if we just received it in the mail, and read the sweet inscription. We can put the ribbons in our hair that she gave us, and buy the biggest ice cream cone we can find and lick every tasty drop and hear her laugh. Save me a cupcake, Amy, one with vanilla icing.

Friends Younger than You

I did a stint for my company visiting folks on Medicare, assessing their health needs and how to best address them, whether financial, physical, or emotional. I learned 3 things that seemed to me to be vitally important to being healthy during our senior lives. Number one is to have friends younger than you. If you don't, then, as your friends start to die, you will be left sadly alone. If you do, then you will be continually stimulated by these younger ones facing life challenges, and may even be important to them as a guide and encourager as they travel the path behind you. We have such friends in Chuck and Donna. They are just beginning the journey of empty nest, as their son heads off to college next month. We listened to them talk about the financial burden of tuition, the challenge of impressing their son with the need to get a job, manage his work/student life, get good grades, plan for his future. They also have a new puppy, so we knew their anxiety of a losing a member of their tight knit family to the big world. It was a blessing to talk about this journey, so different than the one we are currently on, full of hope and promise, goals set and life tasks accomplished. We are grateful to have passed through that time successfully, and can encourage them. We can be encouraged to set our own goals, too, full of hope and promise for the road ahead.

Hellos

I hate goodbyes. So much emotion, sometimes successfully held back bravely but sometimes not. Tears still spill out. My childhood family used to sing a song "Sunday School is over and we are going home...goodbye, goodbye until we meet again" every time we pulled out of the driveway after a long visit with relatives, madly waving to them, singing, holding back the cry. My daughters banned it in our home, once they realized the poignant sorrow that it brought to all of us, the slow sadness of goodbye, goodbye.
We now say goodbye by reminding each other of the next visit, the next holiday, the next opportunity to get on a plane, compressing the time as if it was tomorrow. We promise to Skype. We talk about hellos. Hello is filled with hope and joy, excitement, plans and happy conversation. Hello is hugs and kisses,  walks to the park and shopping expeditions. Hello is lunches and dinners together, late night movies, long car rides to visit family, swimming pools. I will put away the toys today, and find little socks in odd places, eat the rest of the ice pops and try not to look at the little empty bed. I will shut my ears to goodbye, even though tears will come, and think only of the next hello.

Island Living

We returned yesterday from a 3 day trip to Put-in-Bay Island, in Lake Erie. This is the 4th or 5th time we have been there, but first time we actually slept on the island. We gathered with our far flung family to enjoy island life. We brought our bikes. We ate walleye and perch, drank Lake Erie wine and explored the island. We took ferries and swam in perfect temperature pools. We got sunburned. We didn't want to leave. The event was full of nostalgia for other island vacations we have enjoyed, and full of the miracles that were unique to this one. Our nephew only 3 weeks previously was in a serious bicycle accident and lay in an ICU, intubated and unconscious. Yesterday we were joking around on the Miller ferry. Two weeks ago I received news that the latest scan showed cancer progression, requiring a change in treatment. Two days ago I was biking happily on Catawba Avenue. Four weeks ago my husband had major abdominal surgery, and three days ago he was playing with our granddaughter in the pool. My father, still recovering from heart surgery in February, tooled around on his own on a golf cart, getting lost and found again. Island living, we are the picture of health and wholeness, surrounded by water, bathed in light, covered in love.

Orange Nails

My daughter Jane wanted some nail polish. It is Essie's Brazilliant. She saw it in one of her magazines and had to try it. We haunt Walgreen's since it is close and we always need a prescription filled and they carry Essie. Weeks of looking finally resulted in the Essie display with the space for the Brazilliant empty. No other color in Walgreen's large selection of various brands could match the promise of this orangey glow.
For whatever reason, my little girl, always so predictable and compliant as a child, has grown up with some surprisingly unpredictable behaviors. She had her navel pierced years before her ears. She likes expensive and radical haircuts. She chose an Air Force husband, traveling the globe instead of staying close to home. She loves teaching Middle School, and 13 year olds love her. She replaced the broken hard drive on my Macbook. She is a patient and loving mother to her very busy little girl. She wanted orange nail polish to paint her toes.
She finally found the polish, but I put it on first. My toes are the color of construction barrels, maybe brighter, and shout youth and the beach and party time. Toes that remind me that surprises are always just around the corner.

Loved Ones

My family is spread out in multiple states across the country; California, Washington, Delaware, Ohio, Massachusetts and more. We don't see each other often, but the email grapevine has been a reliable way to share news of all types. Successes, challenges, wedding and newborn photos, encouraging each other along life's highway. We have made family of our friends here, so when trouble comes, and email isn't enough, they show up with steaming bowls of food and lip smacking desserts. They bring their smiles and hugs and let us cry on their shoulders. Reaching out to each other in person, or in email, remind us that we are connected to all of God's family. There is a saying I like...Shared joy is double joy, shared sorrow is half sorrow...that speaks to the power of connection to one another. That connection stays strong through our love for those not physically present in our lives, either due to distance or death. We know them, feel them, hear the song they like or smell the perfume they wear. We speak to them in our service to others, feeling the tears on our shoulders, ladling the soup and warm bread to hungry souls. We do not lose those we love, we have them still, all around us in the love of God. 

A place to land

One of my favorite stories in the bible recounts the story of Noah. Many days he spent with his family and a huge menagerie of diverse animal pairs, tossed to and fro in a mighty ark on an angry sea. With little to no land yet in sight, he started releasing birds week by week, hoping for a sign that life had returned to the earth. Week by week, the birds did not bring the sign he was so eagerly looking for. Finally, a dove was released and brought back a bit of olive leaf. Now, to Noah, this was a familiar and well loved leaf...a leaf that meant home. The ability to resume the life of a farmer, to harvest the olives and make the oil that was crucial to survival as he remembered it. When life gets challenging, and all that is familiar is taken away, one longs for signs of home. Sifting through fire's ashes or flood's watery waste, looking for that ring or photo or favorite toy. A bit of normal let back in to calm the frightened soul. I am that dove, flying over unknown lands, searching for a sign of home. I am Noah, longing for a life that is back to normal, where the phone doesn't ring scheduling doctor appointments and relaying news of worrisome results. We are looking for a bit of olive tree, green and alive, promising a harvest of good fruit. Guide us, Lord, in this search, and show us a place to land that is safe.

Flour and Oil

My husband and I have had lots of medical upheavals in the past four years. Last week, while driving myself to the doctor, I had a little talk with God. It went something like this..."What is faith for if it doesn't change anything?" I am a little ashamed to admit this, but after 4 years, with no end in sight, one gets burned out on the whole pray for a miracle scene. Anyway, this conversation was one sided and sounded very Job-like until a bible story told in the Old Testament popped into my head. In this story, one of God's prophets, Elijah, is hungry and he is told by God to go to a widow and ask her for something to eat. There had been a famine for some time, and the widow told Elijah that she only had a enough flour and oil left to make a little cake for herself and her son, and then they would die. He told her to make a cake for him first, and, in faith, she did. When she went to make cakes for herself and her son, there was still enough flour and oil to do that. And there was just enough, every single day, to feed the three of them until the famine was over. I do not need big faith for something big to happen. I only need faith for enough flour and oil to make my daily bread. Over time, this faith is what sustains and feeds the soul, mends the heart, nourishes our spirit. We can always find enough.

Gratitude

My friend Deb gave me a book about gratitude several years ago. I read it and thought I had it figured out. Having a grateful attitude makes one feel better, live a richer life, be happier, have more friends, etc. It is easy to talk about and, in a superficial sense, it is easy to do. I am grateful for my family, my faith, my friends, my job, my bank account. I am grateful that I live in the USA, that there is an open Kroger Store 5 minutes from my front door, that I have health insurance. See how easy that was? It becomes harder when the gratitude grinds against life's hard edges. I am grateful that the doctor found my husband's cancer while it was still small, I am grateful that I only had to cut my hours at work by one day instead of five so I could keep my job and get chemo every other week, I am grateful that my 10 year old car starts every morning. The words and thoughts form and can become dry in the mouth before being spoken, and instead of gratitude, bitterness can take it's place. Gratitude wins the day when it is nurtured and offered to God, lifting the hard edges to the light and seeing the sun gleam and sparkle off them. Turning it this way and that, gratitude takes what is hard and turns it to hope.

Falling in Love

I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to miss the laugh, the kiss, the snuggle. I wanted to stay somewhat aloof and strong, guarding my heart against tears and loneliness. But love sneaked in, wiggling little arms and legs, into the guarded parts. Green eyes, curly red hair, the barest hint of summer freckles across the childish nose, she planted herself firmly in the center of my heart, taking up every empty space and breaking every promise I made myself. Little shoes and socks litter the floor, milky puddles on the table and sticky fingers on the couch. It doesn't matter, she is here with me. She is brave and strong, endearing and funny. She carries all the hope for the future in her little fingers. She mimics our actions and words, taking our presence into tomorrow, even if our physical bodies do not go with her. She will speak for us when our voices are silent, she will work for us when our hands are still.  She will carry our love into a big world and we will live it together. There will be tears in the end, but falling in love is really the best ice cream there is.

Around the Bend

My husband's family and some of my family live on the East Coast. We have traveled the Pennsylvania Turnpike more times than I can count, through good weather and bad, winter and summer, on Thanksgiving Day and Christmas. The way is so familiar that we can name the tunnels, Kittatiny, Allegheny, Blue, Tuscarora. We know where the better rest stops are, when to get off for gas, how much longer until we get there. Although the way is long, the prize at the end is worth the trip. Hugs from nieces and nephews, a kiss from my mother, Capriotti's subs, fresh seafood. Sometimes, the trip is made to celebrate a holiday or wedding. Sometimes to grieve at a funeral. Over the years the road has improved some, the restaurants have changed, or closed. But the trip itself still holds the same power, when, after hours of driving tedium, the exit appears. Just around a bend in the road, the long awaited green sign with huge letters appears, pointing the way to almost there. Our hearts lift, the last hour flies by, and we are in the arms of those we love. That is how it always is, we keep looking for that bend, when the hard becomes easy and the long way ends in joy.

Nana

My dad's mother we called Nana. She was a wonderful grandmother. She fed us peach ice cream and oranges cut in half with sugar heavily sprinkled on each side. She whispered to each one of us, privately, that we were her favorite grandchild. When we were older, she would slip us $20 bills, or her Bloomingdales credit card, when we went to visit her in New York City. She accepted us, supported us, encouraged us, and expected us to live up to her high opinions of us. I chose my college in Brooklyn mainly because that would put me very near her. I went to visit her one day, my freshman year, and she fell while I was in her apartment. I picked her up and noticed how thin and light she was. She died a few days later, in her sleep, and I was distraught. Now I am Nana to my granddaughter. I wanted to be Nana so that I could give Collette what my grandmother gave me. Not just sugary sweet oranges cut in half, but the feeling that I was special. The confidence of knowing that someone full of age and wisdom knew that I was talented, lovable, beautiful. The desire to live up to her expections that I would find my way to becoming who I was meant to be. She is part of me, and I am glad to give that to you, Collette.

Small Talk

We went to a lovely wedding yesterday, where we knew only a few people. This happens sometimes, a friend or coworker invites you to an event that you attend as a courtesy to the inviter, because you love them and want to celebrate with them. You sit at a table shared with strangers, all there for basically the same reason. Hopefully there are people at the table that are skilled in small talk. Otherwise the event can drag on and on, as one slowly winds their way down the buffet line, and solemnly eats the food, waiting for the cake to be cut, watching the dancing,  wondering when would be the proper time to excuse oneself and go home. I consider myself to be skilled at small talk. Maybe it's because of my years in nursing, when I had to greet a patient, a complete stranger, and put them somewhat at ease with me right before I attempted some difficult or ultra personal procedure. I also like to tell stories, and hear other people's stories. Everyone has a little button in their mind that just needs someone to push in order to break the  silence and start a conversation. Yesterday was one of those days, and in the course of the evening I met some very interesting people and had fun. I prefer to live the party, not just watch it.

Caging the Beast

My husband found out last week that he has cancer now, too. A universally loathed screening procedure, recommended for everyone over 50, revealed a tiny monster. The tiny thing, once scrutinized and labeled, casts a long and dark shadow over the soul. It metamorphosizes into fear and panic, despair, doubt and deep sorrow. One by one, I call our friends. Our pastor. Our family. One by one, the prayers and encouraging words begin to rise,  building us an ark that will shelter us and keep us warm and loved. This ark of love and prayers will be the place where we learn to cage the beast. Together we will wrestle down the fear and panic, finding faith and deep joy. There will be difficult days ahead, but there will also be days of rejoicing. We will see the beast caged. We may have to live with it, but we do not have to be overcome by it. We are grateful for those who stand beside us.

Making Lists

I am a list maker and come from a family of list makers. My father always carried a pad of white and blue grid marked paper from the Dupont Company, where he worked. He used it not only to make lists but also to draw pictures and help us with our math homework. There is something about making a list that is comforting and powerful. The line item is neutral, just words on a line. You can manipulate a list to sandwich the noxious task between two more pleasant tasks, giving yourself a treat for finishing the one you don't want to do. Crossing off the items as they are completed is rewarding in it's own right, like getting the right answers on a test. Lists are like scrapbooks, mile markers, roadsigns, book indexes. Making a list gives focus and orders the day, and at the end of it you can find your strength. My daughters are list makers too. They have Grocery shopping and Clean the house on the same list as Finish Master's Degree and Have another baby. The power of a list. Goals are written and followed through on, room is made for the next step. Over time we find ourselves doing the great and the hard things that are set before us, confident that eventually we will finish every one.

Verbs

I am not a grammaticist. I learned this when I started taking Spanish and the grammar lessons were full of words that had to do with participles and gerunds and prepositions. I felt like I had to learn English grammar before I could learn Spanish. One thing I did learn in Spanish was the use of verbs. English speakers are lazy and use relatively few descriptive verbs. In Spanish, descriptive verbs are regularly used, and the tenses used can suggest the emotion and power behind the action. Verbs are powerful, with motion and intention,  both to express and to crush. To love, to hate, to live, to die...to fall, to rise, to lose, to win. We ride our tongue into the greatness of a day, and hope at the end of it that we have remained in the saddle, not dropped in the dust. We grieve what we said, or didn't say, when we remember someone we love who is gone. We replay conversations, our memories filling in the gaps of words, trading one for another until the actual conversation is forgotten and the sting, or the sweet, remains. Knowing the lasting power of words, choose wisely the verbs you use. Choose the ones that build and grow.
To love, to live, to rise, to win.

Honeysuckle

Driving home yesterday, with the windows rolled down, the scent of blooming honeysuckle filled my car. It overpowered the smell of truck exhaust and hot asphalt. The blooms were everywhere, piling over guard rails and berms, roadsigns and trash. The sweet smell brought back memories of summers, pulling the flowers off the bushes, carefully pulling the pistil out to catch the single drop of nectar hidden inside. I know that, at least in Ohio, honeysuckle is considered a nuisance and encroacher, crowding out native plants. But no native plant smells as sweet or blooms so lavishly for so long, with food for bees and cover for rabbits and birds. I find it hard to accept the need to pull it down when it brings it's own gifts to the world's table. I am glad it is a hardy plant, growing back, reclaiming it's place. Honeysuckle brings joy on a warm day and a welcome savor for a long drive home.

Fish Prayers

I don't know if fish pray, but the Bible does talk about God feeding the birds and clothing the flowers of the field, and knowing when a sparrow falls to the ground. It must be possible for the life of God to communicate with the life in a fish as well as with us humans. At any rate, today I was instrumental in saving a little fish's life. I had no normal reason to notice that this sliver of struggling silver was even needing any help, except that my cat wanted to go outside. And since he is now an expensive cat, I had him on a leash. Since he is on a leash, I noticed when he chased after the dandelion weed I threw towards our pond. And as the dandelion fell by the edge of the water, and the cat chased it, and I chased the cat I noticed the little fish, caught in a submerged piece of landscaping netting. Unable to free the barely breathing fish with my fingers, I reached for the scissors I had brought outside to trim the daffodils. One snip and the fish darted away. I thought about the tight little sequence of events that had to happen for the rescue to be completed, and pondered some more when I returned home from brunch to find a small piece of landscape netting mysteriously on my placemat. Fish prayers, my prayers. Heard. Answered.

Baby Duck

We live by a semi large body of water, legally described as a wetland, that is home to a variety of wildlife. Herons, geese, ducks, muskrats, cranes, coots, turtles, snakes and frogs would call this home. This is the time of year when the waterbirds' eggs hatch and our body of water fills with goslings and ducklings, carefully and sometimes aggressively tended by their parents. Yesterday, I noticed a sole baby duckling, brand new, still fluffy, swimming bravely up and down the perimeter of this water, no parents in sight. It's soft peeps calling out to find one to own it, defend it, care for it. It went on for more than an hour, until I could no longer bear to watch. I tried to call to it, with human peeps, bits of cracker, but only served to frighten it even more. Without guardians, this baby duck would probably not survive the cool night or hungry snapping turtles. It's fragile little life, so soon begun could as easily end in a single day. Yet, in this, is the reminder of the order of things in this life. We live in a world God created, full of dangers yet also joys. But He is no errant duck parent.  Our every peep is heard by Him, and He calls back to us. If we listen carefully, we can find Him, and be safe.

To be loved

My life as a child was sometimes lonely and chaotic. I often felt unloved and unimportant. As I grew up, without realizing it, I had set my life's single goal to love and be loved by someone. When I met my to be husband at 20 years old, I decided that he was going to be that someone. Every decision I made from then until now focused on maintaining that goal, to love and be loved by him. If something I wanted to be or do threatened that relationship, I dropped it. To his credit, my husband understood his role in fulfilling this goal, and has been a man of integrity, kindness and faithfulness. As our lives together enlarged to contain children, friends, in-laws, the fruit of choosing to love and be loved is all around us. Resting in the comfort of this love drowns out all of the strident voices in the world wanting me to buy this, or do that, look younger or try harder. The voices create targets that are far away, hard to hit, full of disappointment. The target to love and be loved is all bullseye, there is no failure in it. It is God's plan for us, to love and be loved. As He loves, we love, as we are loved by Him, we are at peace.

Play

For the past several weeks, since Traveling Light, I have been apparently stuck on "pause". Stuck in a state of disbelief, going 'tharn', as described in Watership Down. Going through the motions of life, without living in it. Yesterday as I was starting my day, it came to me, in the soft voice of God, that I needed to resume living. Part of that living is finishing some projects that have been put away, gifts for my daughter. Part of that living is making plans for the summer, painting the room I am readying for Collette. All of that living is putting one foot in front of the other and continuing my journey on this dusty road, being present for life's events with my whole heart. How odd it is to stay in a frozen state, watching the world and not sure when, or if, you will ever have the energy to rejoin the game. Yet, this evening I was able to make some crazy tie dyed pants and put them in an envelope to get to Florida by Saturday. I am not really sure how it happened. It is a beautiful spiritual mystery.
God took my soul off Pause and pressed Play. 

Happy Face

It takes an inordinate amount of effort to rise above certain of life's circumstances. It is like lashing together a raft, in a torrential downpour, to bring yourself across raging water to a safer shore. To some, it may seem like an unnecessary chore. Stay on this side of the river, feel the rain, never mind the cold and the mud that seems to be dragging you under. Feel the defeat, we will understand. Oh no, not defeat. It will not take me. I will construct a raft, I will lash together what I have left of strength. I will put my happy face on. I don't want to feel the pain, or the heat of tears or grieve my lost days. I want to run the rapids and stay afloat, I want to see where I have to go. I want to plant my feet on solid ground again. Until that day, I will dress in colors, running my happy little raft flags up the pole. Share that ride with me when you can. I am always glad for the company. But don't let me cry, then I can't see where I am going. Put on your happy face.

Project Congo

I walked my first ever 5K today, to support a project I  found out about in March. A woman named Sylvia, an ER doctor in Dayton, has made it her mission to assist a small medical clinic in Goma, a refugee city in the Democratic Republic of Congo. She assists mainly by raising awareness, encouraging donations of money, medicine and medical equipment to help the 6 Congolese staff members of the clinic attend to the needs of thousands of refugees in the area. You can see the amazing things that have been done in Goma since Dr. Sylvia got involved  by visiting the website: www.projectcongo.org.  What can one person do to impact the huge problems destroying lives in our world...well, you can see with your own eyes what one person can do. One person can tell another person, who tells another person, all pooling resources of time, money, expertise and hope to bring that construct to restore lives. I noticed that only 1355 visitors have been on Project Congo's website...maybe 200 people were running/walking the 5K today. So it doesn't really take very many people to make a very big difference. There is so much to do.

Sunny Day

Yesterday was such a beautiful sunny Sunday. Breezy, 75 degrees, perfect for a long walk to the ice cream store for a small Thin Mint ice cream cone. Today it is cloudy, stormy and rainy. Of course it is spring in Ohio, and that is how spring is here. It is transition time. Unpredictable, sometimes violent, sometimes balmy. We keep our umbrellas handy, not sure it is quite time to put away the winter coat, ready to till the garden but not ready to plant. Life seems to go that way most times, sunny one day, dark clouds the next. Our lives transition from age to age, seasonally lifting, settling, calm then storm. We keep our eyes on the sky, hope in hand, making plans but also contingency plans. The sunny day that starts with clouds, predicted cool temperatures, but warms up to wonderful, is a gift that is not soon forgotten. It's the promise that the storms will abate, and we can put our chair cushions back on the porch furniture and relax. That sunny day waits behind every cloud, our hope in each tomorrow.

Silliness

Silliness is a wonderful word to describe the opportunity to be a child even when you are long past childhood. Many comedians have made their careers on being silly, elevating it to an art. Anyone can be silly though. And once someone in the group starts it, the behavior is contagious until everyone is engaged. Today at work was one of those precious times, when silliness did her dance and we all joined in. It started innocently enough with a gift of bubbles in a ice cream cone bottle. The bubbles smelled like mint ice cream. Somewhere along the day, as complex issues threatened to stretch that last nerve, the bubbles came out and the colorful minty joie wafted over and around us. Someone said something that tickled one of us, which started a burst of silliness. Our cubicles entertained a fine moment of laughter.
When we turned back to our computers, the scent was still in the air, and the joy that bubbled up stayed present for the rest of the afternoon. One conscious joyful act began another. It is no accident when we are suddenly surrounded by joie, it all starts with one person. Can it be you?

Doing it better

The bible is full of tough, hard verses that many times rub us the wrong way, or disagree with our vision of God. There are verses about God wounding, then binding our wounds, about us cutting off our arms or legs in order to make sure we can enter heaven, about being purified like gold in the fire. It all seems quite brutal, and not how we imagine our walk with God should be. Where is the grace and the love and the mercy? I have to admit that I did not think those verses applied to me. Why, I was a good Jesus follower, I paid my tithe, went to church all the time, read the bible through every year, did mission work. Then things started changing in my life, big things started going very wrong. I hit walls that prayer did not tear down. In this, I find myself, more and more, facing the self righteous person I am. Doing things I thought I would never do, needing people to help me, I have been wounded. The wounding has exposed biases and prejudices, fears and anxieties. But, after the wounding is the binding of wounds, the balm of God's grace that whispers: "You can do it better, you can grow and change." I feel the weight of self importance lift, and the pride fly away, and the road to doing it better paved with gold.

HUGs

My friend Amy started a cancer support group called the Basil Babes, after our shared doctor's name. For a long time that is what it was called, even though more gals joined and had different doctors. Now we are called HUGs, Heroines United by Girly cancers. If you know anyone that needs a support group of very together professional women, who are dealing with gynecological cancers of any sort, we are a great group. We have a Facebook page and an email: heroinesunited@yahoo.com.
I visited Amy while she was getting chemo for the umpteenth time today, and met another woman who was finishing her first full treatment cycle(about 6 months of chemo). I told that woman about our group and that we were a group of survivors, some of whom were survivors of one full treatment cycle and others of us...I paused, thinking "keep it light, Amy"...were survivors of "more than one. " I decided umpteenth wasn't being very light. A person just finishing 6 months of life and health disrupting treatment did not need to even remotely entertain the idea that she might have to do it again...and again.
That is why I love our Hugs group. We did it, are doing it, and will help whoever get through it too.

Little Bed

I bought a toddler bed at the Mother's Exchange yesterday. It is a quality crib mattress that fits into a sturdy white plastic frame that is molded to look like wood. I bought it for my granddaughter, Collette, to sleep in when she and Jane are visiting for a month this summer. I was going to take it apart to store while waiting for June, but my husband thinks I should leave it set up. "Like a cruise countdown", he says. My cat, Bruce, already thinks it is a bed for him. I know better. It is a promise of a red headed curly top, giggling under the covers after a long day in the sun. It is iced tea and ice cream cones, sticky fingers and bare feet. Wet towels hanging from the doorknobs and bathing suits hung in the shower to dry. It is crickets and frogs making soft outdoor music, lightening bugs in jars and late night stargazing. It is missing a daddy who is in Qatar, sitting on Grandpa's lap close to the security of strong arms.
It is quiet now, my sleeping cat, a chilly night. Still, summer is coming, full of life and a little girl for this little bed.

Hope

I sat at chemo with my pals yesterday, eating cupcakes and making jokes with the nurses. My pals were other cancer patients, Kristi and Amy, who are walking the same path I am, struggling with the same disease, the same drugs, the same fears and fatigue, the same uncertain future. We share more than that, though. We share hope. We sit in pleasant harmony, hoping that one day we will be well. And, if that is too much to hope for sometimes, we can still talk about what fun events we have for the weekend. We are well aware of how quickly future plans can be shattered, yet still able to plan. A cruise, a trip to the park, a new knitting project. Hope is planning dinners and birthdays, anniversaries and weddings. Hope is writing these events on the calendar, maybe in pencil, but most times in ink. Hope is imagining being cancer free and chemo free. Hope is painting your nails a bright pink and putting on lip gloss and going into the world with a big smile. We must make an odd picture, 3 women eating cupcakes and laughing, with IV bags hanging by our heads, infusing toxic chemicals. But we are the picture of hope.

Jesus

I am a Jesus follower. This year I am reading the One Year Bible, which is a  bible designed to get one through the whole bible in one year. Each day the  chronological reading includes a portion of Old Testament, New Testament, Psalms and Proverbs, and takes about 15-20 minutes to read. It is a new experience to read it this way. The ponderous restrictions, regulations and rules of the Old Testament read in deep contrast against the light and moving stories of Jesus' life. In the Old, God was always starting over, wiping out whole populations, destroying by plagues, setting the rules breakers on fire. The gap between the holiness of God and the unholiness of man seemed to be too far to ever cross without endless preparation, ritual, sacrifice, intercession. But each time Abraham and Moses begged God for forgiveness, a change of heart, God softened, made accommodation, forgave.  Then there is Jesus, God's son, who rebuked the soulless priestly rituals, instead magnifying relationship.  Leaning into the love of God for us, His purpose for us to love Him and each other. Sacrificing himself for us so that God no longer needed to start over. He set us on fire, but with His own Spirit, so we can be safe in Him.

Traveling Light

I got some bad news at the doctor a few days ago. It wasn't a total surprise, but it was more serious than I had expected. It was the first time that I cried in front of him, even though it was only for a second. I had been waiting for this moment with trepidation for some long time. Yet, when the moment came and went, and the tissues were in the trashcan, the day continued to unfold like all the other days. There were smiles, and jokes, back to work and business as usual. The weekend has been filled with meals with friends, knitting, playing with the cat, cozy evenings with my husband. The moment in the exam room becomes a memory with all the other events that pass through my life. As I move through the days and weeks ahead I can carry that moment like a burden on my back or leave it where I found it. I tried carrying it around with me a little bit this weekend, since it was a new thing and bothersome, but I decided it wasn't really something I wanted to keep, so I am putting it back where it was. I like to travel light.

Ocean

Growing up on the East coast, my family and I spent many summers by the Atlantic Ocean. As parents, we have taken our family to other, prettier, warmer oceans and seas. Living in Ohio, where the closest ocean is 14 hours by car, Lake Erie, only 4 hours away, gives the same effect of a vast expanse of water that ends the horizon. That view is the best part. The flat straight line that demarcates sea and sky brings peace in it's elemental state. The book of Genesis says it like this in chapter 1: And God said, “Let there be a vault between the waters to separate water from water. "So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it. And it was so. God called the vault “sky.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the second day." The water God created can be so beautiful one day, yet so brutal the next. It is home to both colorful fish and hungry sharks, spectacular coral and stinging jellyfish. To live by the ocean, one must accept both parts of it's magnificence...the beauty and the brutal.

In accepting this, one can speak to God, learn his ways, and be guided to peace.

Florida

My daughters are very smart. They currently both live in warm weather zones, Jane in Arizona and Mary in Miami Florida. We all gathered there for a long weekend last week. While it was freezing in Ohio, it was a balmy and breezy 85. We had plenty of sun, walks on the sand, and toes in the surf. We even saw Rachel Ray, wrapping up the Food Network's week long presence in South Beach. I have been to Florida many times, it never disappoints. It was hard to leave yesterday, as we wound our ways back to our lives thousands of miles away from each other. We set up a next event, ever grateful that there are safe airplanes and nearby airports and frequent flyer miles. We have work to do, social events to attend, homes to clean, cars to maintain. It is always there in the back of our minds, however, like a singing bird. Our moments together a song of love and caring and support, God blessed and precious. Never really far away in spirit, our independent souls find home wherever we are together.

Reassurance

Sometimes you just need someone to tell you everything is going to be alright. Of course, that person might not know that, but just hearing it can dispel the clouds of fear and dread. We see only what is in front of us, but some people who have climbed a similar mountain have the advantage of seeing farther into the distance. From their vantage point the rocks in the road seem smaller, the terrain flatter, the way shorter. Those things that wear us down as we trudge along are minor inconveniences once we realize that we leave them behind as we gain altitude. Each disappointment or worry is overcome by looking at how far we have traveled, as the one ahead of us urges us on. Today I met another surgeon/oncologist, one who specializes in breast cancer, since that is another piece of the genetic flaw puzzle. He was very nice, and kind, and gave me needed words of encouragement. He may not have climbed my mountain, but he has helped many others climb to his vantage point of experience and knowledge and faith. Where he wants me to be is higher than I have been before. The view is broad and bright and full of hope.

Fabulous Furs

My friends and I went to a clearance sale at Fabulous Furs today. It is a place that sells deluxe faux fur. I am not a fur person (except for the mink in my closet) so I did not plan on buying anything. But I did. Fur makes a person look either glamorous or rich (maybe only real fur works for this) or boho (as in bohemian) . I went for the boho faux suede, faux fur, faux leather trim. I went a little crazy I think, because it was a beautiful sunny day and my friends and I were having fun trying on everything. So now I have 2 new coats, a cheetah print tunic, a faux fox hood, and a black shimmery sweater thing to wear the next time I have a fancy party to go to. Sometimes I think I need to get out more. The place I usually shop is Walgreens. Now you can get just about everything you need at Walgreens, but you can't get good faux fur. And it is not really a destination for friends to meet then go out to lunch. It felt great to be part of a party, instead of holed up in my office, or my house, or my dad's hospital room. Say yes when your friends plan a shopping party. You might be surprised what ends up in your closet!

Partners in Health

I just read a book about Dr. Paul Farmer called Mountains Beyond Mountains. It is the most inspiring book I have read in a very long time. Farmer is about my age, and has done the most wonderful work with the poor in Haiti and now Rwanda. I was starting to really believe that my work with the poor in desperate countries was over, but after reading this book I feel more than inspired. I feel that I need to get well so I can do something with the foundation he started, Partners in Health. It is a yearning to make what time I have on earth matter, that I have something to give someone who has nothing, and I can give it away. This man circles the globe, giving care, teaching, listening, spearheading projects, advocating for medical and social justice.  Striding confidently in the gifts that God has given him, constantly seeking out those that need the most help. those whose cries need to be heard. Of course, those cries are all around us, in every hospital bed and chemo chair. In every nursing home and domestic violence shelter, in every classroom and work cubicle. Can you hear them, will you help them? Try www.pih.org.

Old Age

My father had open heart surgery on Monday. Today is Wednesday and he is now in the Cardiovascular Step Down Unit. He doesn't really know where he is yet, but he is progressing through all the hurdles required to move toward discharge and returning home. He is 86. I was not a big fan of this procedure, because I saw it as more as a hindrance to his quality of life than an asset. He was going to go into heart failure this year if he did not have the procedure but there was the risk of death as a direct result of the procedure. Looking at him today, the jury is still out as to whether this was a good choice or not. But, amazingly, he is doing almost better than my husband did when he had open heart surgery 2 1/2 years ago. Old age is surprising, frustrating, confusing, scary. It can also be wise, persistent, determined, fearless. When I was young, I thought 65 was as old as I wanted to be...but now 86 looks pretty good, even in the ICU. I underestimated the strength and vitality inherent in an old man's life. I am glad I was wrong. My old Dad still has a thing or two to say about staying power, and the courage to see things through even when the odds are changing. That is good for a daughter to know.

Explanations

Sometimes I go too fast to really understand how something works, or what someone means, or what to do next. I hear the words without listening, processing, thinking. When I have to explain some of these things to someone else, I realize that I did not listen and I don't really have a clue. Sometimes I find that I fill in the blanks, making up things that might be right. I did this in geometry when I was in 9th grade. I mean, the sides of the isosceles triangle looked like they were the same size; I could just invent a theorem to prove that, couldn't I? So yesterday, my doctor was explaining about genes and gene flaws and more chemo and somewhere in there I started to understand something I only played at understanding, and started hearing a new song...the song of a life lived and striving to keep living. Despite genetic flaws and inherited deleterious codes and resistant cells I heard life and hope and keep going. The process of life is complicated and filled with awe; at any time we are doomed and redeemed simultaneously. In patient and carefully told stories, the bible is filled with wonderful explanations; bringing our life to light. Too fast, we miss the details, but in slowing it down, we can begin to understand.

God's Plan

Today I went with a group from 4 Corners to clean and paint a Domestic Violence Shelter.  It is one of those things that you wouldn't know needed doing unless someone told you, in this case one of the staff attends our church. I am reading a book titled Mountains Beyond Mountains about a doctor, Paul Farmer, a Harvard Medical School graduate, who dedicates his life to medicine and social injustice and lived in Haiti most of the period that this book was being written, working with the rural poor. It is a very compelling story. The author asks, "How could a just God permit great misery?" Farmer gave him his translation of the Haitian proverb, "God gives but doesn't share', stating that "God gives us humans everything we need to flourish, but he's not the one to divvy up the loot. That charge was laid upon us." As I scrubbed the dried food of many suppers off the kitchen chairs in the shelter, I thought of what it would mean to live in the plan of God, to share. What kind of sharing would it take to keep women and children from having to hide in a shelter? What do I need to share for those in misery to flourish, to fulfill God's plan for all of us? Ice cream for thought....

Good Haircut

I have the best hair stylist ever. Her name is Tracy Dwyer and she has her own spot at Salon Concepts in West Chester. I have known Tracy almost the entire time I have had cancer. She has kept my hair looking good no matter how much was falling out or, as she called it, "self-texturizing".  This last time I was ready to shave it all off, since it was falling into my coffee and all over my clothes, but Tracy just cut it shorter and fluffed it up with her magic potions and it looked just wonderful. Back in younger days, I used to cut my own hair, color my own hair, wear it in ponytails, braids, big clips or just hanging super long down my back. I used to say, aloud, that when I got older I would never wear my hair short, I would keep it long and thereby stay youthful. Funny how what we say we would never do we find ourselves doing down life's road. Maybe it is our own fears and insecurities that shout "I would never do that". It feels righteous and confident, but I think it is the opposite. I wear my hair short now. Partly because I think it looks good on me, but mostly because I am never sure what the next treatment plan will do to it.
 I am glad that now that I do what I said I would never do I have a good friend that does it very well.

The United States Health Care System

Funny title for ice cream, but this is, by far, one of the best ice cream flavors around. I had cataract surgery yesterday and it was the most simple procedure. Everything went smooth as silk and in less than 2 hours I was on my way home with a new right lens. For free. I have been in many developing countries where this is type of surgery is beyond a dream, it is a fantasy. Folks with eye filling cataracts line up to see the doctors and nurses at our rudimentary clinic,  hoping for restoration of even a tiny bit of sight.  Their ability to support themselves has ended, and they must beg or borrow their food for the day. But not me, I just strolled in and strolled out of a state of the art eye care facility, temperature controlled, modern comfy beds, perfect anesthesia so I did not feel a thing. It almost seems inhumane how other folks have no hope for something we have plenty of. I know that our system is costly and financially broken and the long term prognosis is bleak for continuing on our current path. But yesterday that didn't matter much to me. I got what I needed. I grieve for the people I remember in Honduras, Nicaragua, Sudan and elsewhere who, right this minute, cannot see, cannot hope to see. I am more than grateful.

Peace

There have been many interruptions in what I would call a peaceful life for us these past few years. Maybe that's the way it has always been, but I am more sensitive to it now. I tend to cast about for the cause, thinking, somewhat naively, that if the cause was dispensed with,  peace would be restored. I have come to realize that living a peaceful life is not due to a lack of disruptions, but by consciously directing one's inner life to a place of peace. Jesus spoke to his disciples this way: Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.   ( John 14:27) This peace he talked about is like food, something that we need each and every day to keep us from troubled and fearful hearts. It cannot become part of us unless we take it in, and once we take it in we can feel the power of it. We could spend many futile days depending on our circumstances to change, people to change, the economy to change, and never have the peace we crave. It is a gift that we can only receive from the hand of God, that quiets our hearts and gives us rest. Never mind who or what we deem is the problem, our answer is as close as a prayer.

Maintaining Equilibrium

I can't watch high wire acts. I know those acrobats are highly skilled and well practiced. Nevertheless, the risk remains that one slight change in the equilibrium maintained on a thin cable hundreds of feet in the air will cause the acrobat to fall quickly to what awaits him on the ground. It is hard to imagine having a calm spirit, facing the thin cable, setting aside the knowledge of risk, sensitive to every muscle movement, acutely aware of the placement of hands and feet needed to maintain balance. How wonderful it would be to have that same calm spirit translated into living a balanced life for those of us that face falling with both feet firmly on the ground. Real or imagined risks threaten to unbalance us every moment. Sometimes the harder we try to stay upright the faster we lean to frightening degrees. In yoga, one of the tricks to maintaining balance is to fix your eyes on an immovable object, like a spot on the wall or the ground. Concentrating on that helps you take your mind off the imbalance inherent in our untrained bodies, and, with time, a trained yogi can balance with eyes closed. So choose one immovable object that will not change, and fix your gaze on that. I choose Jesus. Cross the cable, stay upright.

Bruce (Almighty)

Our cat is named after one of my favorite movies. He is almost 4 years old. When we first moved into the condo, my husband was firm about no pets. We are not home enough, he said. I have always had a cat, so this was difficult for me but I complied and bought a huge green palm tree to take care of instead. Anyway, when I got sick, and was home all the time, he relented and Bruce arrived as a 3 month old bundle of orange and white furry fun. He is mainly an indoor cat, but in the summer I let him out for a few hours in the evening to chase frogs and snakes and mice. Last night, he acted very ill. He paced back and forth to the litter box, crouching for long minutes in the box, then in the sink, on the rug, and in the morning when I checked his box, it was as clean as it was before I went to bed. So I took him to a 24 hour vet this morning and was told he had a urinary obstruction and would die without medical intervention. This intervention, I was told, would cost at least $940 on up to way over $1,000. I stood there for a minute or two, pondering my choices...hating that I had to decide if he was worth it...then deciding I was worth it, because I love this cat. Get well soon, grasshopper, see you Sunday!

Golden Hours Part 2

Defining the value of golden hours has provided many hours of thoughtful conversation. I wish I had done this years ago, but perhaps the idea of golden hours is lost on youth. I was making a list of what comprised a golden hour event, and could only come up with maybe a dozen or so. In the ensuing conversations with friends and family, I decided the overarching definition of such an hour is that it must be restorative. To be restorative, it must be either enjoyable, rejuvenating, inspiring, meditative, or provide a feeling of accomplishment.  Of course, it could be all of these. So, then, certain things that were not originally on my list could be looked at in a different way to make the list. Like cleaning the bathroom. If I feel that the most restorative hour today would be one that provided a feeling of accomplishment, then I must choose something that can be completed within that hour. That could be cleaning the bathroom. I first must know what I need most, be it inspiration, joy etc. Then I must choose the purposeful activity that will provide that. My list is still fairly short, but I put neatness and clean-ness, and doing something nice for someone on it. Now it is infinite, and timeless, and wonderful.

Live like there is a tomorrow

There is a popular song out right now that says: " live like you're dying". I have been a nurse for a long time and I have taken care of lots of people while they were dying and I don't want to live like that. It is sad. Now I know that is not what the songwriter meant, but taken literally it seems to be a pretty morbid and introspective and maybe even selfish way to live. So I think that it would be better to live, not like there is no tomorrow, but that there is a tomorrow. A tomorrow that can be filled with joy and love and all the best that life has to offer. That would mean taking care of yourself today, eat right, be nice to the people and animals you share the planet with, pick up your trash...because you will be here tomorrow and you need to make sure it is all still healthy and good. You need to take care of the people God puts in your life so that they have the courage to live for tomorrow as well. We all have thoughts about saying goodbye, and how that would be, but better to just say "goodnight, it was a lovely day, see you tomorrow." I want to live prepared to enjoy each new day God purposes to give me, and at the end of it, make sure I have plans to enjoy tomorrow too, where ever I might be.

Scrapbooks

I am working on a scrapbook for my daughter Mary that spans the years between her birth and age 21. I finished one for Jane, my oldest, several years ago. It takes a lot of time to make these, and it is laborious both physically and emotionally. Nowadays, one can upload lots of pictures to a photo website and make a tidy little book in a few hours. But the photos I have are not digital, they are hard copies that don't exist in any other form. I have ticket stubs and hand drawn pictures, cards, first place ribbons and all kinds of the detritus that follows children through their school years. The biggest difficulty is throwing the extra photos away. I have no intention of making any more books. I decided a few years ago that one of the best gifts I can leave to my children is not leaving a mess for them to clean up. So I am culling and editing the memorabilia, saving what I think will matter, and tossing what I think won't.  It is at the same time fun to see her growing up so beautifully, yet somehow sad to remember all the the passing moments, gone so fast. At the end of the day, her book is almost finished...only 3 more years to go.  Once this book is complete, it will be a gift that can rest on her child's lap, full of love, and hope and promise.