"It was the summer of my 69th year when my body began to betray me." This refrain has been floating through my mind for days now, weeks even. It sounds like it should be the opening sentence of a book, don't you think? Or even the beginning line of a song. It is both of these--It is the story of my life and the words of a song permeating my being.
My Father was a muscular beast of a man. His stature wasn't overly large, but he was a picture of strength and sinewy muscle. He cut his eye-teeth on hard, physical labor. As a young man he and his brother sold fire-wood, cut by hand with a cross-cut saw. I remember watching him as a little girl as he wielded gunny sacks filled with grain and countless numbers of bales of hay. To say the farming kept him active and strong is a gross understatement.
Another memory stands out in my mind. He was an older man then, probably in his 70's, dressed in his Sunday best. As he showed me his upper arm he referenced my Grandfather. "I remember when Granddad told me he had lost his muscle tone," Dad said. The same thing had happened to him. I'm not sure if he was preparing me or just sharing.
And here I am. The gardening keeps me active. I haul equipment in and out of my truck every day, carry bags filled with debris and dispose of them as well. On occasion I have flexed my bicep to verify the physical labor involved. However, a change is taking place in my body. As with my Father and my Grandfather, the muscle tone is diminishing. "Buff" is not a word applied to those in my age group. We may be described as being strong or active, in good shape, with the qualifier "for his/her age," but very rarely are we labeled "buff."
Much of my work is done for those who are my age. Aging and change are often part of our discussions. One client recounted the body parts that are bothering her--shoulder, hands, feet, back. Another friend categorizes all the changes and maladies as O. A., old age. Ever since I did my faceplant in the street I have been more conscious of my knees than ever before. One cannot splat shamelessly on all fours and not have some after effects. There was no injury, but the knees were tender and, two weeks later, the abrasion is just now healed.
I have always been fascinated by life's cycles, how we end up not far off from where we began, often going full circle. When my son was born 6 weeks prematurely I learned the lungs are the last to fully develop before birth. There were no neo-natal ICU's 50 years ago, only incubators. I remember watching his tiny chest move up and down like a hummingbird's wings. Later on in life I learned the lungs are often the last to give out when one is dying. How many times have you heard of pneumonia as a cause of death?
Flexibility, agility, strength, balance, co-ordination--These are all things that infants learn and master. They are the very same things which become fragile as we age. Reality is always another story, and I'm not sure if I still view these cycles as fascinating.
The body does betray us as we age. Those things we once relied on, expected, and even took for granted are no longer there. However, in addition to the theme song playing through my mind another passage has countered. It is this: "Bodily exercise profits little; but, be spiritually fit." I am a poster child for the first part. I am also one who has great disdain for exercises in futility so I am placing all bets and all of my focus on the second part. For me it as a win, win.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Thursday, May 29, 2014
"On 'Old Lady'"
The topic began as soon as we closed the front door and before we even got to the truck. I was taking two of the grandgirls to school, and the little one stated, "Ladonna is an old lady name." I agreed with her and told her that is was a name that suited an adult rather than a child. I disliked my name as a little girl; it was a heavy name. I only became comfortable with it as I got older.
As we got in the truck the conversation continued. The sparkly grandgirl, the one who initially started the endearing "old lady" nickname added her own description. I suggested that "old lady" is attached to anything that has to do with me. I mentioned the old lady toothbrush I have and the old lady toothpaste as well. The little one said they were used to brush the old lady teeth. I started rolling with laughter as did they. Then she added, "...which you can see in the old lady smile."
I love laughing with my grandgirls, even when they are laughing at me. I had thought perhaps my status would be raised some since I had replaced my old lady cell phone with a new I-phone, but apparently it hasn't. And time is not on my side here.
As we got in the truck the conversation continued. The sparkly grandgirl, the one who initially started the endearing "old lady" nickname added her own description. I suggested that "old lady" is attached to anything that has to do with me. I mentioned the old lady toothbrush I have and the old lady toothpaste as well. The little one said they were used to brush the old lady teeth. I started rolling with laughter as did they. Then she added, "...which you can see in the old lady smile."
I love laughing with my grandgirls, even when they are laughing at me. I had thought perhaps my status would be raised some since I had replaced my old lady cell phone with a new I-phone, but apparently it hasn't. And time is not on my side here.
Friday, May 23, 2014
"On Change"
Part of the fence between the two backyards had been removed to create an opening, a pass-through from the neighbor's yard into mine. It was a short trek from back door to back door for the grandgirls, myself, my daughter and son-in-law. The routine was the sound of a knock on the back door and, as I peeked through the window, I would find two little girls standing on the steps, waiting to come in. This was a welcome part of my life for several years, one that brought me great joy.
My son-in-law boarded up the opening when the family moved into a larger home. I had no idea what a change that would be. That one simple change was the statement of a much larger whole. I cannot tell you how many times I headed next door only to run into that boarded-up fence. Neither can I express the emotions that were stirred up every time I did.
The definition of change is the process of becoming something different. In my thinking, the opposite of change is stagnation. The first has to do with life and living; the second has to do with death and dying.
Mother's Day 2014 brought with it the gift of a new I-phone from my children. Talk about a change! It was meant to replace my contractor's cell phone, one which was functional, serviceable, and withstood countless trips to the pavement. The sparkly grandgirl went so far as to make fun of it whenever she saw me use it. She seemed amazed that it even worked. A friend had been after me for several months to replace my dinosaur of a phone with a "new and improved" one. "You'll love it," I was told.
The old was replaced with the new, and I have been thinking about "change" ever since. My initial reaction was to revert back to what I knew, what I found comfortable, what worked for me. However, since the old phone was rendered inactive that was not possible. Change is a process, and it does take time to adjust.
The type of change I found myself thinking about is the kind that takes place within. I am one who begs my Heavenly Father for personal change. I am of the belief that a work from the inside-out is far preferable to one from the outside-in. I do love that kind of change, the kind where you find yourself with nary a ruffled feather when, in times past, temper and anger would have flared; where impatience and intolerance are replaced with patience, tolerance, and understanding; the kind where you find yourself listening, really listening, instead of needing to dominate, needing to be heard; the kind of change where you have an inner peace instead of mental turmoil.
This kind of change is priceless and is a gift. It doesn't necessarily come easily and often it comes at a cost, that of giving up self and one's own way. But, for me, change is evidence of life, continuing development, ever moving forward and becoming more than I had ever hoped to be. I do want to come to the end of my life being able to say that I am not the same person I used to be, that I have been changed.
The new neighbor and the fence without an opening is part of my everyday life now. I'm getting used to my new phone and, yes, I do like it. In fact, my daughter told me how to turn the ringer on today. Change is a fact of life whether we like those changes or not. The one I still haven't got used to is the reflection I see of myself when I look in the mirror. Just when did that happen, where was I, and what was I doing?
My son-in-law boarded up the opening when the family moved into a larger home. I had no idea what a change that would be. That one simple change was the statement of a much larger whole. I cannot tell you how many times I headed next door only to run into that boarded-up fence. Neither can I express the emotions that were stirred up every time I did.The definition of change is the process of becoming something different. In my thinking, the opposite of change is stagnation. The first has to do with life and living; the second has to do with death and dying.
Mother's Day 2014 brought with it the gift of a new I-phone from my children. Talk about a change! It was meant to replace my contractor's cell phone, one which was functional, serviceable, and withstood countless trips to the pavement. The sparkly grandgirl went so far as to make fun of it whenever she saw me use it. She seemed amazed that it even worked. A friend had been after me for several months to replace my dinosaur of a phone with a "new and improved" one. "You'll love it," I was told. The old was replaced with the new, and I have been thinking about "change" ever since. My initial reaction was to revert back to what I knew, what I found comfortable, what worked for me. However, since the old phone was rendered inactive that was not possible. Change is a process, and it does take time to adjust.
The type of change I found myself thinking about is the kind that takes place within. I am one who begs my Heavenly Father for personal change. I am of the belief that a work from the inside-out is far preferable to one from the outside-in. I do love that kind of change, the kind where you find yourself with nary a ruffled feather when, in times past, temper and anger would have flared; where impatience and intolerance are replaced with patience, tolerance, and understanding; the kind where you find yourself listening, really listening, instead of needing to dominate, needing to be heard; the kind of change where you have an inner peace instead of mental turmoil.
This kind of change is priceless and is a gift. It doesn't necessarily come easily and often it comes at a cost, that of giving up self and one's own way. But, for me, change is evidence of life, continuing development, ever moving forward and becoming more than I had ever hoped to be. I do want to come to the end of my life being able to say that I am not the same person I used to be, that I have been changed.
The new neighbor and the fence without an opening is part of my everyday life now. I'm getting used to my new phone and, yes, I do like it. In fact, my daughter told me how to turn the ringer on today. Change is a fact of life whether we like those changes or not. The one I still haven't got used to is the reflection I see of myself when I look in the mirror. Just when did that happen, where was I, and what was I doing?
Thursday, May 15, 2014
"On Faceplants"
It was an afterthought, really, the split-second decision to get my mail from across the street. You know the kind which, in retrospect, makes you realize your life could have been changed forevermore. I was on a mission to get the lawn in my back yard mowed and was heading that direction when the lure of the possibility of a check in the mail sent me heading to the mailbox instead. I live on a busy street, but there wasn't much traffic at that time of the day.
Just then the neighbor who lives across the street came zipping up. He has a certain parking technique which entails doing a U-turn so he is able to back in his driveway. That is when it happened. Wanting to be out of his way so he didn't do a reverse job on me, I began hurrying instead of walking. The toe of my rubber work boot caught on a raised area, and I found myself looking at the pavement, on all fours.
Initially, checking to see if traffic was coming, I was more mortified than anything. Picking myself up, I found I was still mobile so got my mail and headed on back to my house.
The fall shook me up; even more so, the possibilities had me reeling. Youth is not a factor in my life. I'm pushing 70 here. I could have broken both wrists, destroyed both hands. I landed on the upper part of my knees rather than the lower part. I can only imagine what would have happened otherwise. Gardening, my means of earning a living, could have easily been wiped out. What did I end up with? A small bruise on one knee and a road burn the size of a quarter on the other. Oh, yes, and a large dose of humiliation.
The thought "My God is a good God" has been flowing through my mind. My life with Him, my experiences with Him are real, they are living. As my life goes on I may or may not have understanding as to why I did a face plant in the middle of Echo Hollow Road. At any rate, I am a thankful and grateful girl today.
Just then the neighbor who lives across the street came zipping up. He has a certain parking technique which entails doing a U-turn so he is able to back in his driveway. That is when it happened. Wanting to be out of his way so he didn't do a reverse job on me, I began hurrying instead of walking. The toe of my rubber work boot caught on a raised area, and I found myself looking at the pavement, on all fours.
Initially, checking to see if traffic was coming, I was more mortified than anything. Picking myself up, I found I was still mobile so got my mail and headed on back to my house.
The fall shook me up; even more so, the possibilities had me reeling. Youth is not a factor in my life. I'm pushing 70 here. I could have broken both wrists, destroyed both hands. I landed on the upper part of my knees rather than the lower part. I can only imagine what would have happened otherwise. Gardening, my means of earning a living, could have easily been wiped out. What did I end up with? A small bruise on one knee and a road burn the size of a quarter on the other. Oh, yes, and a large dose of humiliation.
The thought "My God is a good God" has been flowing through my mind. My life with Him, my experiences with Him are real, they are living. As my life goes on I may or may not have understanding as to why I did a face plant in the middle of Echo Hollow Road. At any rate, I am a thankful and grateful girl today.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
"On Priorities"
The floor has needed vacuuming for days and days now. Plus, the furniture begs to be dusted. I would like to say I am one who cleans religiously on a weekly basis. I'm not. I never have been and, at this point in my life (a seventy-something), never will be. My impulsive nature is to deal with it when the urge hits. I guess you could say a regular schedule of cleaning isn't a high priority.
My days begin early. I'm usually up by 5 or 5:30. It's a habit begun many years ago when I had four children at home. The very early morning was the one time of the day I could call my own. After the children left home, that practice continued. A cup of green tea, spending time at the piano, working on Christmas ornaments for the family, time spent on the phone with friends--There's nothing like the crack of dawn to accomplish these. If I were to categorize this time in my daily life, it would certainly be placed at the top of the list as a priority.
A priority is like a yardstick which measures the level of importance something holds in a person's life. The mark may be high, low, or somewhere in between. Each of us has our own most important priorities which factor into, and even control or motivate our lives.
For some, that criterion of high priority is met in education, financial worth, a circle of friends and business contacts. It may also include political or environmental causes, church, health and fitness, hobbies, or sports interests.The range is as broad and varied, as one-of-a-kind as we are as humans.
When one's priorities are revealed, it is like peering through a window deep into that person's being. An undeniable statement is made without words, explanation, or definition. A person's priorities are a true representation of what they deem to be of value. We invest our time, our money, and ourselves in that which is most important to us; if it doesn't matter to us, we don't.
The true worth of a priority, however, is when it is measured against God, life, and eternity. Will it matter in the end? Is it eternal?
Personally, my life springs from two base priorities: God and family. He is the author and source of my life; my family comes second only after Him.
The urge to vacuum hit. I am hoping I will have that same kind of impulse to mow my lawn. Apparently the care and upkeep of my yard isn't a priority either. A friend asked recently what I would do if I was retired. My response was I would probably have a cleaner house and a yard I enjoy. I can hope, but time will tell. They may not be that much of a priority after all.
"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Matthew 6:21
Sunday, May 11, 2014
"On Firsts and Lasts"
Life is filled with firsts and lasts, much of it measured in that description of experience. How often do we say, "That was the first time......" or "I remember the last......?"
"There's a first time for everything."--first steps, a first day of school, a first kiss, a first job, a first home, a first time at parenting. And then there are the lasts--the last day of school and graduation, the last day at work before retirement, the last night at home before our children leave the nest, the last contact with a loved one before their passing. Firsts and lasts are often milestones, markers in life; at the very least they are our memories.
I found myself wondering why we do that--think and speak in terms of the first and the last. I don't have an answer; I don't even know if it is a part of other cultures. In my part of the world it is how we, as humans, measure time and experience, and I don't know if we can do any other. The first of anything carries with it the idea of a new start or beginning, a fresh approach, a clean slate. And yet, "All good things must come to an end."
Each of our lives is an individual story, with myriads of firsts and lasts. One with a beginning and an end, it is everything in between that truly matters, those chapters that fill up the book that is our life. Nothing is more important than living one's life well and living it in truth and light. I may say all kinds of words but, in the end, the pages are filled with how I live my life.
The first day of life also brings with it the last day of life; the first breath of life will end with a last breath. It is an inevitable. I am of the conviction that the last of this physical life becomes the first of another, with life continuing on, one with no end. "Last" has no place in that next realm as that IS what eternity is.
Thankfully, as I watched the sparkly grandgirl play volleyball, I wasn't of the mindset that it might be a last time. That would have taken away from the pure pleasure and joy of watching her. Actually, I am thinking I can easily plan a trip to Idaho during volleyball season. And that will be a first but not a last.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
"On Flex and Flow"
The weather outside my window is not coordinating with my to-do list--at all. I know the weatherman predicted rain, but I always go into denial with that sort of forecast until the evidence is at hand, and I am forced to use my windshield wipers. Then, and only then, do I concede, and I have conceded.
For days now, I have been beating my head against a wall, figuratively speaking. The gardening work has come on all at once, and I still haven't addressed my Sunday mow jobs as it was raining then as well. Those were going to be taken care of today. Several of my clients have asked for as many extra hours as I am able to give them; one had to hire extra help as there is just too much to be done. Thursdays are a fairly open day for me, and I was going to accomplish oh, so much! The prospects of that happening are pretty "iffy" at this point.
Life is made up of all sorts of variables, the curve balls that come in unexpectedly. For me it is often the weather, but it can be health issues, a mechanical break-down in the family car, the need to replace an appliance, an employment situation, a work schedule, home repairs, a delay in an airline schedule, an appointment that takes longer than expected. The list is virtually endless. In truth, most things in our lives don't go as planned, and we are unable to plan for the unknown. What is that saying? "If you don't bend, you break."
I wrestle mentally with this sort of day. I never really give in to the fact that I am grounded. This morning, however, I was reminded of a principle taught me many years ago, that of being able to flex and flow. I am not in charge of nor am I in control of my life. Another is. I was shown of the need to flow with Him, not struggle against Him. Today is a good day to practice what I preach, to live what I have learned.
A while back a friend asked me if I ever just "veg and nap." I honestly can not remember one of those days, but as I watched the rain come down a bit ago it occurred to me that today just might be a good day to experience that. I have begun by lighting candles. Surely that is setting the tone for relaxing. As for the work, as my Mother always said, "It'll keep." And it will. It certainly isn't going anywhere. This much I know: To flex and flow is a positive; striving and struggling against is a negative. It is for me to choose and decide how I will live.
For days now, I have been beating my head against a wall, figuratively speaking. The gardening work has come on all at once, and I still haven't addressed my Sunday mow jobs as it was raining then as well. Those were going to be taken care of today. Several of my clients have asked for as many extra hours as I am able to give them; one had to hire extra help as there is just too much to be done. Thursdays are a fairly open day for me, and I was going to accomplish oh, so much! The prospects of that happening are pretty "iffy" at this point.
Life is made up of all sorts of variables, the curve balls that come in unexpectedly. For me it is often the weather, but it can be health issues, a mechanical break-down in the family car, the need to replace an appliance, an employment situation, a work schedule, home repairs, a delay in an airline schedule, an appointment that takes longer than expected. The list is virtually endless. In truth, most things in our lives don't go as planned, and we are unable to plan for the unknown. What is that saying? "If you don't bend, you break."
I wrestle mentally with this sort of day. I never really give in to the fact that I am grounded. This morning, however, I was reminded of a principle taught me many years ago, that of being able to flex and flow. I am not in charge of nor am I in control of my life. Another is. I was shown of the need to flow with Him, not struggle against Him. Today is a good day to practice what I preach, to live what I have learned.
A while back a friend asked me if I ever just "veg and nap." I honestly can not remember one of those days, but as I watched the rain come down a bit ago it occurred to me that today just might be a good day to experience that. I have begun by lighting candles. Surely that is setting the tone for relaxing. As for the work, as my Mother always said, "It'll keep." And it will. It certainly isn't going anywhere. This much I know: To flex and flow is a positive; striving and struggling against is a negative. It is for me to choose and decide how I will live.
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
"All It Takes Is Just One Thought"
"Just a thought." I have developed a habit recently of expressing myself, then applying that comment as a post-script. That half-hearted approach carries with it one of minimizing, of making my input that of one with a lesser value.
For days I have been thinking of the impact, the force, the power just one thought can have in a person's life. I'm not talking about grand plans waiting to be placed into action but, rather, one thought. My experience has been that the direction and outcome of my life has often been changed, altered as the result of a single thought.
My home was built in the '70s, and the entire place could use a major remodel. There is, however, a single area of "lovely," my bathroom. One day I had the thought to paint it--a single thought. As they say, "One thing led to another." New counters, sink, commode, a really beautiful ceiling, light fixtures and fan, and the frosting on the cake--heated tile floors. You see, while out working one day in the cold I had the thought of how nice it would be to come home and have my tootsies nice and warm. One of the things about having a thought like that is once you have it you can't ignore it. Do you get my drift?
It was a single thought that set the stage for me and my daughter to move from an area we had lived in for decades to a larger city. The result of that move has been a husband, home, and family for her; for myself, a home and a life filled with people.
These are the kinds of thoughts that aren't forced. There is no "Think Tank" going on here. They just appear, making themselves known quietly. They plant themselves within the mind, taking root, and don't go away until a decision has made to either act on them or disregard them. Personally, I love when this happens. They may be incidental, as with the remodeling project, or they may carry great weight, as when my daughter's life was changed forevermore by a move. They take on a life of their own and who knows what the end result is going to be?
I have no doubt you know what I am speaking of and that you have your own experiences you can relate to. As for me, I think I won't be so casual when I am expressing myself. After all, "All it takes is just one thought."
For days I have been thinking of the impact, the force, the power just one thought can have in a person's life. I'm not talking about grand plans waiting to be placed into action but, rather, one thought. My experience has been that the direction and outcome of my life has often been changed, altered as the result of a single thought.
My home was built in the '70s, and the entire place could use a major remodel. There is, however, a single area of "lovely," my bathroom. One day I had the thought to paint it--a single thought. As they say, "One thing led to another." New counters, sink, commode, a really beautiful ceiling, light fixtures and fan, and the frosting on the cake--heated tile floors. You see, while out working one day in the cold I had the thought of how nice it would be to come home and have my tootsies nice and warm. One of the things about having a thought like that is once you have it you can't ignore it. Do you get my drift?It was a single thought that set the stage for me and my daughter to move from an area we had lived in for decades to a larger city. The result of that move has been a husband, home, and family for her; for myself, a home and a life filled with people.
These are the kinds of thoughts that aren't forced. There is no "Think Tank" going on here. They just appear, making themselves known quietly. They plant themselves within the mind, taking root, and don't go away until a decision has made to either act on them or disregard them. Personally, I love when this happens. They may be incidental, as with the remodeling project, or they may carry great weight, as when my daughter's life was changed forevermore by a move. They take on a life of their own and who knows what the end result is going to be?
I have no doubt you know what I am speaking of and that you have your own experiences you can relate to. As for me, I think I won't be so casual when I am expressing myself. After all, "All it takes is just one thought."
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
"On Death.....and Life"
One could say it was a chance encounter, but when I met "Death" yesterday it was like running headlong into a wall. When I told my children of it I told them I didn't know what I was feeling. The starkness of it, the reality, the image remaining in my mind was unexpected.
As is usual on a Monday afternoon, I had finished mowing Lucille's yard and was heading up to Carolyn's. Halfway up the hill I came upon it. Death, that is. I noticed the two police cars parked next to the curb with the yellow tape. As I got closer my eyes took in the body lying on the sidewalk, covered by a blue surgical sheet. There was no indication of an accident, no sense of violence as there was no urgency on the part of the police officer talking on the phone, just that of finality.
Death does not frighten me. In fact, I think about it often. I'm not morbid nor grim, but I do have a curiosity about it. What happens when this physical body gives out? When I hear of one who has died I wonder where they are and what they are doing. I recently read a book, "Proof of Heaven," written by a neurosurgeon who had severe bacterial meningitis and was in a deep coma for a week. Not only did he live, but he fully recovered. He writes of what he experienced during that week. This is one of the reasons death fascinates me.
I am of the belief that we have been created eternal beings, in the image of our Creator. Given that, I feel that this life is just the beginning, that eternal life continues on after our physical death. My own personal experiences and accounts have brought me to this.
My Mother was in an Alzheimer's state for 10 years. Anyone with a similar experience can relate and knows how difficult communication is. However, there are moments of clear lucidity before the confusion takes over. At one point I was visiting Mom. "Visiting" is a loose use of that word as you well know. I was surprised when she looked at me and said, "I was walking down a road and came up to a door. The door opened, and there He stood, just as big as life." "Who, Mom?" I asked. "Well, God, who do you think?" Living with a grave fear of God at that point in my life I said, "Were you afraid of Him?" "Well, no, should I have been?" And then she spoke no more.
I do feel that what we call death is simply a transition into the next stage, that we will continue living, just in a different way, in a different place. In a sense it's no different than our physical life. We'll either continue living with God or without Him. And it is as simple as walking through a door.
I will probably think about the one lying on the sidewalk for quite a while. I doubt the image will ever leave my mind. As I have begun to process the experience the one thing that has struck me is the solitary experience of death, the aloneness. It is true that we enter the world alone, we leave it alone, and we take nothing of this earth with us. Preparation for the next life is a good thing.
As is usual on a Monday afternoon, I had finished mowing Lucille's yard and was heading up to Carolyn's. Halfway up the hill I came upon it. Death, that is. I noticed the two police cars parked next to the curb with the yellow tape. As I got closer my eyes took in the body lying on the sidewalk, covered by a blue surgical sheet. There was no indication of an accident, no sense of violence as there was no urgency on the part of the police officer talking on the phone, just that of finality.
Death does not frighten me. In fact, I think about it often. I'm not morbid nor grim, but I do have a curiosity about it. What happens when this physical body gives out? When I hear of one who has died I wonder where they are and what they are doing. I recently read a book, "Proof of Heaven," written by a neurosurgeon who had severe bacterial meningitis and was in a deep coma for a week. Not only did he live, but he fully recovered. He writes of what he experienced during that week. This is one of the reasons death fascinates me.
I am of the belief that we have been created eternal beings, in the image of our Creator. Given that, I feel that this life is just the beginning, that eternal life continues on after our physical death. My own personal experiences and accounts have brought me to this.
My Mother was in an Alzheimer's state for 10 years. Anyone with a similar experience can relate and knows how difficult communication is. However, there are moments of clear lucidity before the confusion takes over. At one point I was visiting Mom. "Visiting" is a loose use of that word as you well know. I was surprised when she looked at me and said, "I was walking down a road and came up to a door. The door opened, and there He stood, just as big as life." "Who, Mom?" I asked. "Well, God, who do you think?" Living with a grave fear of God at that point in my life I said, "Were you afraid of Him?" "Well, no, should I have been?" And then she spoke no more.
I do feel that what we call death is simply a transition into the next stage, that we will continue living, just in a different way, in a different place. In a sense it's no different than our physical life. We'll either continue living with God or without Him. And it is as simple as walking through a door.
I will probably think about the one lying on the sidewalk for quite a while. I doubt the image will ever leave my mind. As I have begun to process the experience the one thing that has struck me is the solitary experience of death, the aloneness. It is true that we enter the world alone, we leave it alone, and we take nothing of this earth with us. Preparation for the next life is a good thing.
Monday, May 5, 2014
"On the Weather"
"Elaine said it was going to rain today," was my thought as I headed to the truck for a raincoat. Elaine is a gardening client who keeps track of such things, even on an hourly basis. I don't. My tack is to deal with the weather at hand, at the moment. I keep two sets of raingear in my pickup, and my rule of thumb is when both sets are soaked through, and I have begun to feel good and wet underneath then I call it a day. That doesn't say much for the quality of raingear I have, does it?
The day was one of those typical in Oregon's Willamette Valley in mid-Spring. My comment on the weather at this time of year usually is, "Of course, it's softball season." Two of my daughters played softball, and anyone who has been around either softball or baseball, soccer or track, golf or lacrosse in an Oregon Spring knows exactly what I'm talking about. The day can begin with sunshine and blue skies only to have the wind come up, the skies darken, and rain pelt down. That's what happened today. As I finished up my weeding job with raingear on, I began planning the rest of my day, a day of inside work, only to turn around and find the rain had stopped, and skies were clear once again.
The weather is a great equalizer, a universal fact of mankind. It knows no race or creed, does not recognize class, status, or financial statements. Every corner of the globe is subject to its variances. When a tornado or hurricane, an avalanche or mudslide, Tsunami or flash flood, heat wave or blizzard passes through, the wealthiest of men is affected as is the most impoverished. The weather is unbridled, controlled by no man--nor woman.
In naivete, I used to think farmers must be the godliest of men as their very livelihood is so dependent upon the weather. Surely they would turn to the One who is in control of their destiny. The proper amount of rain and sun is necessary in growing any kind of crop; too much of either or a lack thereof spells disaster. At this point in my life I doubt those who provide our food are any more God-fearing than any other group of businessmen, and I warrant a guess there haven't been any studies to reinforce or dispute that thought. My suspicion is it depends upon the individual not the calling.
As I was shedding myself of my raincoat yesterday and heading off to yet another mowing job--in the sunshine, no less--I thought of the name applied to the One in charge of our weather, that of Mother Nature. In my curiosity I wondered if He ever gets tired of being so described and wants to throw His hands up in disgust, if He ever wants to shout "Do you not see it is me?! I am not a contrived picture, a label created to satisfy your narrow world and your narrow minds!" I would, but then, that's me. By the way, before the day was over there was such a deluge of hail the ground turned white. God, not Mother Nature, put in a busy day weather-wise. Of course, it's softball season.
"...for he makes the sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." Matthew 5:45
The day was one of those typical in Oregon's Willamette Valley in mid-Spring. My comment on the weather at this time of year usually is, "Of course, it's softball season." Two of my daughters played softball, and anyone who has been around either softball or baseball, soccer or track, golf or lacrosse in an Oregon Spring knows exactly what I'm talking about. The day can begin with sunshine and blue skies only to have the wind come up, the skies darken, and rain pelt down. That's what happened today. As I finished up my weeding job with raingear on, I began planning the rest of my day, a day of inside work, only to turn around and find the rain had stopped, and skies were clear once again.
The weather is a great equalizer, a universal fact of mankind. It knows no race or creed, does not recognize class, status, or financial statements. Every corner of the globe is subject to its variances. When a tornado or hurricane, an avalanche or mudslide, Tsunami or flash flood, heat wave or blizzard passes through, the wealthiest of men is affected as is the most impoverished. The weather is unbridled, controlled by no man--nor woman.
In naivete, I used to think farmers must be the godliest of men as their very livelihood is so dependent upon the weather. Surely they would turn to the One who is in control of their destiny. The proper amount of rain and sun is necessary in growing any kind of crop; too much of either or a lack thereof spells disaster. At this point in my life I doubt those who provide our food are any more God-fearing than any other group of businessmen, and I warrant a guess there haven't been any studies to reinforce or dispute that thought. My suspicion is it depends upon the individual not the calling.
As I was shedding myself of my raincoat yesterday and heading off to yet another mowing job--in the sunshine, no less--I thought of the name applied to the One in charge of our weather, that of Mother Nature. In my curiosity I wondered if He ever gets tired of being so described and wants to throw His hands up in disgust, if He ever wants to shout "Do you not see it is me?! I am not a contrived picture, a label created to satisfy your narrow world and your narrow minds!" I would, but then, that's me. By the way, before the day was over there was such a deluge of hail the ground turned white. God, not Mother Nature, put in a busy day weather-wise. Of course, it's softball season.
"...for he makes the sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." Matthew 5:45
Saturday, May 3, 2014
"On Mom's Isms"
My mother was a woman of few words. There were no lengthy monologues expressing her feelings or thoughts but brief, to-the-point sayings, what I call "isms." Quotes--brief, concise, and quite pragmatic, they were a'propos for each occasion or circumstance which arose. It is impossible to mentally retrieve them on demand, but during my daily life I find myself repeatedly saying, "As my mother would say...." And one of her quotes comes forth. This is a collection of Mom's "isms," those personal expressions I connect exclusively with her. While they may have more meaning to my children and extended family than those who did not know her, they may resonate with others as well, as they come from another time and place. Perhaps they will initiate some of your own memories of people in your life as well. Enjoy.
1. "Things could be worse." This was a classic of my Mother. It was my chore to dry the dishes she washed by hand. I remember standing at the sink baring my soul with all the angst of a teenager, and this was her response. Though I never spoke
it, I usually thought, "They could be better too."
2. "Six of one, a half dozen of another." When making a decision between two things that
were similar, this was the solution. It's a way of saying that it really doesn't make any
difference.
3. "Don't cry over spilled milk." You can't change what's happened. There's no going
back, no doing it all over again, so just deal with it and don't make a fuss about it.
4. "To each his own." This was my Mother's way of expressing the individuality and
uniqueness of each person and was her personal acknowledgement life is lived according to themselves and no other. Do not judge and do not waste your time trying to figure other people out.
5. "If it's a bear it would have bit you." Try explaining this one to an 8-year-old munchkin
who takes everything literally. You know when you search high and low for something
you've lost, and you find it in a very obvious place, one you've overlooked? That is
when this is applicable.
6. "You make a better door than you do a window." This was Mom's approach when
someone was blocking the view. Get out of the way. Straight-forward, direct.
7. "It'll keep" or "It's not going anywhere." Unfinished work, projects left undone
because other demands of daily life called. There IS always another day to deal with
them.
8. "Don't count your chickens before they hatch." Things may not turn out the way you
would like them to. It's better to just wait and see.
9. "I wouldn't lose any sleep over it." Whatever is going on, it isn't worth worrying
about.
10. "When it rains, it pours." We have all experienced this one. You just get through a
difficult set of circumstances, and another appears. You finally get through that one,
and yet another one rears its ugly head. As I recollect, these were never easy
situations, but the kind that buckle you at the knees. Which leads me to my next
one:
11. "Things always come in threes." According to my mother, events came in sets of
3. It could be deaths, births, broken dishes, sicknesses--calamities large and small.
She had a pretty broad view as to what was covered.
12. "It won't kill you." As you can well imagine, there was no arguing when she pulled this
one out of her arsenal. It didn't matter what my brothers or I didn't want to do or didn't like doing, this one sealed the deal for her. She was right. It wouldn't and didn't kill us.
13. "Were you born in a barn?" I was raised on a farm. This was Mom's admonition when we didn't close a door behind us.
14. "If I give you an inch, you'll take a mile." I was a difficult child. There was no malice,
but I did push the boundaries. My persistence, strong will, and stubbornness caused
my parents grief.
15. "Just sleep on it." Mom's sage advice, which was passed down from my grandmother, in dealing with problems. She maintained a solution would usually come forth in the morning.
16. "Too much of a good thing." Overstimulation in today's vernacular, when fun is no longer fun.
17. "Your eyes are bigger than your stomach." This was an oft repeated saying at family gatherings when food abounded.
18. "You bit off more than you can chew." A succinct expression of good intentions with less than ideal results.
19. "You're making a mountain out of a mole hill." Overthinking, creating a problem where one doesn't exist.
"As my mother would say....," coming from my own mouth, is a gentle reminder of the woman who was in my life for over 40 years. A part of my present, everyday, practical living, her "isms" will continue to surface for the rest of my life. And perhaps this reinforces the principle as well that what we say matters and lives on long after we are gone.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
"A Little Pit Bull's Observation"
The softball game had been going on for a long time, and she was very, very bored. Watching the older sister play wasn't all that appealing or interesting, but she wasn't making a real fuss about it. She was just "bored and hungry." And itchy, because she had done some cartwheels and headstands in the grass.
In between the periods of boredom and hunger she expressed a thought she had just had. "I think," she said, as she looked out at the ball field, "that all the blades of grass, the weeds, and the flowers represent all the people in the world. The weeds are the bad people, the flowers are the good people, and the grass represents everyone else, people who aren't good or bad." She went on to explain that when these living representations die it is because a person has died, and when new life grows it is because a baby has been born.
The command of language and expression this little one has stretches beyond her 8 years. Her perceptions are priceless, and she is wise beyond those years. I told her that I was going to write her profound observation down so she could read it someday when she is a grown woman. And so I am. Tell me you'll look at a patch of lawn or vegetation in the same way as you did before you read the wisdom of Miss Syd. And tell me her observation isn't so.
In between the periods of boredom and hunger she expressed a thought she had just had. "I think," she said, as she looked out at the ball field, "that all the blades of grass, the weeds, and the flowers represent all the people in the world. The weeds are the bad people, the flowers are the good people, and the grass represents everyone else, people who aren't good or bad." She went on to explain that when these living representations die it is because a person has died, and when new life grows it is because a baby has been born.
The command of language and expression this little one has stretches beyond her 8 years. Her perceptions are priceless, and she is wise beyond those years. I told her that I was going to write her profound observation down so she could read it someday when she is a grown woman. And so I am. Tell me you'll look at a patch of lawn or vegetation in the same way as you did before you read the wisdom of Miss Syd. And tell me her observation isn't so.
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