It was the last opportunity to watch the 11-year-old grandgirl play volleyball, perhaps for a long time. This sparkle of a girl, the one with the contagious laugh who loves unicorns and sloths, is moving away and involvement in her daily life isn't going to be so easy. I remember when she was born; I remember seeing her and holding her for the first time.
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.
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.
"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."
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.
"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
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.
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.
