Wedding Day

It was a lovely day, sunny, cool, full of expectancy and activity. Beautiful girls in their finery, my girls, giggling out the door to have hair done and pick up bouquets, down to the venue while we made sure my dear friend was ready for her marathon day doing flowers for the reception with masses of sunflowers, wildflowers,  thistle, ribbon, shells glass beads, poised to turn a large table filled room into something magical. People from all over the country ignored that the wedding was on a work day, and took the opportunity to spend the weekend together before the big event on Monday. There were games and hula hoops, glow sticks and dancing into the late evening. The bride and groom were both radiant, bursting with love for each other. When they entered the room, whether together at the corner of the Krohn Conservatory reserved for the ceremony, or again front and center for the first dance, that love, combined with our mutual love for them seemed to light the place with a different light. A light that emanated from them, to them, toward each other. Unspeakable good will, the ultimate of joie de vivre that was tangible. It was a pinnacle day, fought for and won by the simple acts and words of love that permeated every conversation, blessed every spirit, ignited every memory of every heartfelt kiss. Oh, wedding day!

In the hands of a gracious God

Yesterday was a good day. I actually ate some real food. I got some little projects done for the wedding. I have been making friends with my new oxygen concentrator, which helps. The cat doesn't like it, because it is loud, but it helps me rest better when I lie down. I stayed up way past my usual bedtime and talked to the girls. Our pastor brought our story before the congregation last Sunday, and the prayer that rose up from our faithful people is part of the yesterday's gift of a day. The presence of concentrated oxygen is part of the gift, the new steroid medication starting to work is part of the gift. Secular or sacred, the combined power of science and prayer brought us into the center of a good day, which is the center of God's gracious hands. We cannot hold on to it as if is were our own for all time, it is simply a touch that reminds us that we are not alone in this big world. We sail a sea of troubles, and see calm days and storms. We should never forget that that is God's grace too, because each rolling wave brings us closer to understanding each other and Him, if we pay attention. Thanks to all who pray for us, it is felt and it is appreciated. Thanks to those whose serve us medically, as well. It is all God's work, playing out in our days, caring for us in the ways we need it most.

A Perfect Marriage

My daughter is getting married in a few weeks. In discussion with friends, I told them I thought we had a perfect marriage. I have done a lot of thinking about this, since I have time to do that and I wanted to write something thoughtful in her wedding book. I think of a marriage as a framework for two very imperfect people to use to interact with each other on a daily basis. Kind of like a freeway, or a go kart track, if you will. There are rules to follow, lights to be obeyed, give and take, tight turns and breezy straightaways. This framework, when properly and carefully applied, allows both people to grow into the people they were meant to be, allows for successful child rearing, career growing, personal and spiritual growth. If the rules are applied equally, then each partner will take their turn with the responsibilities specific to them, and neither will be doing all the driving. This framework takes years to build and master, but as it it mastered it becomes more and more important. For each challenge that comes, both imperfect people remember what worked and what didn't and will remember that tight turn and that curve and do what is necessary to successfully complete it. A marriage's goal is to get two people, and their little ones, from the beginning of a life together to the end. It is possible to do it well, evenly perfectly.

In the middle of the night

It is hard to sleep at night when you spend most of the day resting in bed or on the couch. The body is not really tired, muscles are not needing repair, mind is not overwhelmed with the day's events to sort and file. In the middle of the night I find myself most at peace. Usually nothing hurts, the room temperature is comfortable, the bed is soft. My husband is peacefully asleep next to me. I think about my children, comfy in their own beds with their own male companions dozing peacefully beside them. I think about the little grandchildren, dreaming little dreams far away. I feel overwhelming calm and gratitude for the path that I continue to trod, that brings such peace. All is right with the world in the middle of the night. I have kept the faith. I have followed my Lord into the cool of the valley and He comforts me. All of us. He has given me the ability to lie down in green pastures. I can review the chapters of my life story and feel His presence in each one. In the middle of night, I may lie awake, but 100% relaxed, knowing that there is not one place that He is not, and only the light of the morning will tell if I have really gone to Him, or will spend another day in His presence here. It doesn't matter to me.

Towels

I guess because I have cancer I seem to be keenly aware of others around me who have it. One of my nurse friends was just diagnosed last week with leukemia, and the treatment for it is a brutal one. I ache for her and her family. My pastor's mother is struggling with recurrent cancer, as is another pastor we met during Richard's treatment. In their web posts about their struggles, both the newly diagnosed and the chronic, they all mention words of battle, fighting, not giving up, not "throwing in the towel".  I didn't know that life was a picnic until something Job-like happens to you and then suddenly it is a boxing ring. I prefer to think of it like the Olympics commercials pictured it. You start as a child, learning from the loving adults that are placed in your life to encourage, teach and motivate you. You begin to understand the world, yourself, what gifts lie within you. You begin to lean into those gifts, lean into the world, surround yourself with more people who inspire and believe in you until you are able to stand on your own, supported and loved by family, friends and God. Oh, yes, there are towels handed to you to wipe the sweat off your brow, or wipe up the messes that are sometimes made, but there are not yours. They are offered to you. And when life here is done, we all get to the podium together, hand in hand, raised toward heaven in victory. I have no towel to throw in, only one to hand you if you need it. Thanks for sharing yours with me today, I feel better already.

When all is well

It is a peaceful day when everything around you, and everyone you love, is in sync with the best part of themselves. There are no urgent teary phone calls, no odd bills in the mail, no new scrapes on the car. You can feel the peace of the day unfolding like a soft blanket, and you know that today all is well with the world that you know. Those of us in first world countries get lots of these days. We complain about being "broke" but we have more money than most people in the world can even imagine. We complain about our political system, but we live under more freedoms than most citizens of the world. We berate our health care system, but, for the most part, I don't know anyone that can't walk into any emergency room today and get adequate care without paying one cent for it up front. We really complain about everything, from the speed of our phones, to the quality of our burgers, to the price of gas. Yet we have the best phones in the world, we eat more than we should and we continue to buy cars with 40 gallon gas tanks and somehow can afford to fill them up whenever the tank is empty. As I live now, stripped of almost everything I used to hold in such high esteem, I am more than ever appreciating the peaceful days, without complaining. Would that we could see how beautiful they are.

Waves

I have been feeling desperate to see and feel waves all summer. My little construct of a fauxcation to the beach didn't work without them, without the sounds of crashing surf and spray. The only place I knew was close was Soak City, at Kings Island. Even that seemed out of reach, as each day becomes harder to navigate with the limited energy I have. Plus, I am cheap, and didn't want to spend so much money on what would be a short day at the park. For whatever reason, however, I had it in my mind that yesterday would be the day we would go. I had had enough excuses, enough wistful looks at the sights of beach vollyball at the Olympics and the commercials of people at the ocean. So we packed our towels and sunscreen and a book or two and headed off to the park, even with the chance of rain in the forecast. It was everything I hoped, the first look at the curling waves in the Tidalwave pool brought so much joy to my heart that I didn't mind the chilly water, and swam like a little kid. The steel band played, children laughed, the waves tossed us to and fro, we took rides down Splash River. It was a wonderful day. Sunlit waves, gentle against my feet, thank you for filling this heart of mine.

Safari

Last year, my friend Pam decided that she was finally ready to take her trip of a lifetime, an African Safari. She spent months planning it, saving her money, shopping for the right clothes, getting her shots, gearing up her courage for 3 weeks in the open savannah. She just got back a few weeks ago, and brought over her 1500 pictures and videos on thumb drives for me to peruse at my leisure. It was a magical experience to see what she saw, hear what she heard. I remembered my own single day safari in Kenya 5 years ago, remembered the awe at seeing wildlife up close, without bars or locks. I saw the look of contentment on her face in the few pictures of her, seeing her in a new way; not as a busy charge nurse, brimming with professional skills honed over years of diligent work, but as a brave woman, willing to step away from her busy life and do this one thing that she had dreamed of doing for such a long time. No more excuses, no more fears, she stepped into her trek with the confidence with which she does everything. I am glad for her. Some people wait too long to be brave, and never do that one thing. Thank you for sharing your dream with me, my wonderful friend.

In translation

What happens once a prayer leaves our mind, our heart, our lips and travels into the enormity of space? No matter what we asked for, or how we asked, what happens to the words? Do they take on a life and power of their own, maybe against the will of a sovereign God, and change the course of a life to an unintended consequence? Have we prayed prayers that altered history for the ill of mankind instead of the bettering, because we were only thinking of ourselves? Do we ask God what He thinks before we pray?  What happens once a prayer leaves us and goes to God? I like to think He takes them all, each one, and weaves them into beautiful words that work His will into the world. The soulful, brave and selfless prayers overwrite the selfish, cold and hateful ones and translate them into prayers that propel the global us into His ultimate destiny for us. As we live here together, sharing our resources, we must pray selfless prayers, bold prayers that lift the hearts of those that are suffering around the world. When we do this, we can expect to receive the answer for our own needs in today's blessings as He gives us all our daily bread of love, hope, faith, joy, patience and comfort.

A decent life

I read the One Year Bible. It is the perfect way to read it, a little of the Old Testament, a little of the New Testament, a Psalm and part of Proverbs. Like a full course meal in 15-20 minutes each day. And voila, at the end of the year you have read the whole Bible through. Today's reading was from Romans chapter 13. Because we belong to the day, we must live decent lives for all to see.  In times past, some of my life wasn't so decent, but for different reasons. Now, so much of what is happening here I don't want all to see. I don't want to show my frailty or my grief, I don't want to cry or be sick in front of them, my little world of family and friends. But I belong to the day, and the day is full of these emotions and physical pains and sorrows. My little decent life will be lived out for all to see, because I am loved and the love is the kleenex and the whey protein and the hugs. I have not lost hope in Our loving Father, or faith in His compassion and His mercies that are new every morning. My tears are often of frustration that I cannot participate in the life that is happening around me. But I do love to see you smile, and hear your stories and share your life. Don't be afraid to call and see how I am doing today.

Life without guns

I hated what happened over the weekend, innocent movie goers randomly slaughtered. I hate hearing about shootings and craziness and wars and weapons. I hate hearing the blaming and finger pointing and who should have done what and how can this be prevented in the future. I hate that it keeps happening to people, that someone goes crazy and anyone is in the way of the one that does. We share this precious planet, a brief span of days to live in, just so many moments to love someone, hug someone. Every time I hear that a life has ended sooner that one's actuarial 78 or so years, I grieve at the loss of those moments, those hugs. The loss of someone that is loved diminishes the lives of all of us in tiny ways. It is like a light that goes out and leaves some greater darkness. Yet, the love of God reaches past all our woes and craziness, into the hurt and dark, and lights more lights. He ignores our faulty gun and mental health laws and impotent political swaggering. He shows us a life without guns, a life lived with compassion and concern; wise as serpents, innocent as doves. It is hard work to live that life, we might rather carry a concealed weapon to feel safe. I would rather lean into the light.

Nothing on the calendar

Tonight is the first night in 3 weeks that we are not hosting family. Our refrigerator is still bursting with leftovers, which is a happiness from countless meals prepared and enjoyed. We have been on a 3 week roller coaster ride of a grand faux-cation, grateful that family spent their vacation time and money coming to see us and fill our home with love. Now, there are no more activities on the calendar for the rest of the week, no excursions to the city or the country. No wedding planning appointments or shoe shopping. Nothing on the calendar means the house can get clean, the cat can relax, we can resume our daily routines. I can sit under the tree and recharge my batteries. We will get lonely eventually. The calendar, with open empty days, begs to be written on. Dates, meetings, appointments; we will call friends and see what they are doing and see if they can put us on their calendar. We will pencil in pool parties and baseball games, cookouts and bike rides. We will hope that I am able to get out and get away. If not, we will open our home to whoever wants to come by for a glass of ice tea and a bite of ice cream. The lazy days of summer are still inviting us to relax and enjoy every single one of them.

Food Glorious Food

I took care of patients with cancer when I was a new nurse. What amazed me was the way they would become so emaciated; food sights and smells did not interest them, in fact it had the opposite effect. I am told that this happens in poor countries also, when malnourished children go so long without meaningful food that they lose interest in it, even when finally made available by rescue agencies. I understand it now, because it is happening to me. I sit down to eat, 2 bites, no bites, I don't want anymore. Yet I am hungry, I can feel it deep down. I see pictures of food on Facebook, people enjoying my favorite menu items at my favorite restaurants, cookouts with burnt steak and grilled corn and even while mentally I lick my lips, I know that I could no more eat it than a plate of rocks. Meanwhile, I watch my weight drop, seemingly helpless in the face of the toxins that the cancer endlessly secretes that kills the appetite. Maybe this is the most humane way it goes, how a body reacts to overwhelming disease or famine, a kind of quiet fading. I took the taste of grilled buttered corn for granted, I guess...food, with all it's flavors, one of life's greatest pleasures. Today take a taste of your favorite food, savor it, and share it. I think mine will be a root beer float.

Rain

It rained here yesterday, maybe for an hour. It didn't rain at my dad's farm. The corn and beans there are still struggling through cracked earth. Here the little pond is shiny again and ducks are wandering the banks, snacking on greens and swimming again. The global warming people are speaking doomsday speak, and politicians are volleying about what to do. Drought, heat, dying crops, rising food prices; all cyclical, evidence of our cavalier attitude about the earth's ability to regenerate and renew itself. Depending on where you decide to look, you can see the shiny pond or the parched corn. You can see the ducks swimming happily or the tree leaves turning brown and dropping prematurely. Neither shows an accurate picture of what is happening; life happens somewhere in the middle of both views. Without pointing fingers or casting blame, we need to look at our world with our eyes wide open, and see it all. We need to pay attention to what is around us; close by us and far away from us, in order to learn what our role is in preserving shiny ponds and happy ducks. God gave this world to us to live in, we can make dozens of decisions every day that will impact what kind of world we leave for those we share it with.

Vertical

We met a nice man one day while Rich was getting chemo, this man was getting chemo too. We chatted about his life and treatment plan, and he said he took his courage from an elderly friend who told him: If you find yourself waking up in the morning, then get up.  There is a lot of power in being vertical. Sometimes the desire to lie down becomes overwhelming during the day, when the heat of the summer bears in through the windows and the air is muggy and still. Sometimes it takes all one's will to stay upright, to enjoy the baby and the little girl, to read books and tickle bellies. Everyone is gone now, back in their homes, back to their routines, their own beds and toys. It is quiet enough for the cat to sit out in the open, and sleep in his favorite spots. I spent more time than I wanted to resting in my cozy bed or on the couch while they were here. A full house is tiring. Today could be another one of those days, but today I am going to putter around the house and finish folding the clean towels and sheets. I am going to put away the sippy cups and bibs for next time, storing each memory in mental tissue paper. It is how we proceed through this business of living out our days; when we wake up we get up.

The best advice

I think my father's favorite film was Pollyanna. I liked it because Haley Mills was in it and I thought I looked like her. The reason why I think he liked it so much was because he was forever wishing, out loud, very loud, that I would be more like her. She was always finding the silver lining in every cloud, always happy and smiling, cheering up grouchy old ladies etc. I have to admit that I found it easier to be negative and long faced about things, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. I actually thought I made that up until just recently, when I discovered that it is the working life plan for pragmatic people like me. Anyway, in order to see if the Pollyanna way was workable, I started this collection of stories. My first requirement was to find something good in every day, and record only that when the day was done. In almost 2 years of writing, I have found that it has gathered a small group of followers, and opened the doors to new relationships, as well as given me joy, peace and acceptance of what life puts in my path. There is always something good in every day; it might take some thought to find it, it might have to be orchestrated, but it is always available. Sometimes the best advice our parents give us is the one we have the hardest trouble accepting. I am glad I gave Pollyanna one more try.

Bright mornings

It is in the early evening when I feel the magnitude of what is happening inside my body. Fatigue, pain, no desire for food or entertainment take over and off to bed I go, sometimes with a good book and Ritz crackers, late sun still bursting through the west facing windows. It seems too soon to shut down, but no amount of will power is enough to make any physical part of me willing to forgo the call of the bed. That I why I like our bright mornings. The sunlight all around but not beaming in, the cool clear breeze before the sticky humidity of the day. The early birds catching the worms. The still moist earth from last night's watering, the rising sunflowers, the herons stalking breakfast. Hunger pangs, and the sweet taste of fresh blackberries in a smoothie, painless motions and creative energy. Enough to pick up my knitting, or clean off the counters, plan the day's events, do some yoga. I live in a compressed day, now, much like those who work a full time job. My job starts in the evening, when my body requires a 13 hour period of rejuvenation and restoration. Upon awakening, I get time to live the other half of life, at a slower pace perhaps, but one that still bring joys and wonders. Today is another beautiful day.

In between the pandemonium

My family is all together again. There are toys strewn all over the house, baby wipes and diapers in every trashcan. The cat is spending most of his day hiding from Miss Collette. There is shouting and laughing, crying and whining. Even from the adults. We had no air conditioning for 3 days in 100 degree weather. People are coming and going, to wedding planning events, extended family events; to the grocery store, the mall, the playground and pool. Doors opening and closing, the washer and dryer running constantly. Sometimes I would like to find out where the cat is finding his peace and quiet and hide there with him. Just for an hour or two. Just long enough to catch my breath, quiet my mind, pray and rest. Of course, we have plenty of that when family is not here. Funny how the presence of more people causes the comfortably warm soup to bubble and sometimes boil over. How loud is the quiet in between the pandemonium, when children are sleeping and mothers are knitting. How nurturing the peace, that blows across our faces like the cool air from the repaired air conditioner, eliminating any harsh or hasty words. It breaks open our smiles and restores our joy. Our happy, normal, noisy family.

Elevated temperature

Ohio is suffering from an extended period of elevated temperatures, ie: it's hot. Really hot. The pool is almost too hot to swim in. The grass is brown. The cat is shedding so much hair it drifts in the air and swarms in circles under every table. You can sense the trees begging for rain. We are tempted to stay indoors in the air conditioning, which is reminiscent of winter when the windows are shut and all the outside sounds are lost to the constant white noise of fans blowing. Yet, in Ohio, we learn to deal with the weather extremes, because that is how we are seasoned by the seasons. We put on our sunglasses and sunscreen and broad brimmed hats and sit in the shade. We drink lemonade and iced tea by the gallon. We complain about it to each other, but we still want to be outside. We want to swim and go boating, we want to play cornhole and watch baseball. In fact, my daughter is driving my unairconditioned car today. No big deal. She will be able to brag about how she did it, with the temperature being 101. Plus, it's a great excuse to eat more ice cream.

New Red Car

It looks like Christmas in our garage tonight. Richard traded in the black truck for a new red car. It is parked next to my green car. The new red car is a Scion XD, loaded with what most people would consider standard equipment these days...electric locks, USB port, automatic transmission, cruise control. The truck was 10 years old this month, and did not have electric locks or cruise control or USB ports. It served us well. It carried college girl furniture all over Ohio and across the country to Colorado. It took us camping to Gratefulfest in Akron, twice. We used it to haul my craft tent and totes of crafts up and down the highway, setting up in distant towns to sell my handmade wares. It carried radio controlled airplanes, bags of dirt, birdseed, lumber. It made a 50 mile round trip daily for 7 years when Rich worked in Oxford. He took me to work one snowy night in it, because it did have 4 wheel drive, but had a flat tire on the way home and somehow made it all the way back from Cincinnati in a Level 3 storm without a repair. One thing is couldn't do is hold carseats. That is one reason why it is Christmas in our garage, the grandkids are coming for a visit. Goodbye, old friend...hello new friend. We will tell your story someday, when you have over 125,000 miles of them to tell. And listen to the green car tonight, there are 200,000 miles of happy tales tucked under that hood.