Adventures of a Passionista

Vacation? or Vacate?

Struck by this quote today:

“Sometimes a gal needs a vacation from who she really is.”

Cedar Rapids  (2011)   Joan Ostrowski-Fox (Anne Heche)

Initially, upon reading and dissecting it's intent, I pictured only wanton carrying-ons completely different than who I really am...  but upon further contemplation have seen far more truth to it than I'd realized. However, in exact OPPOSITION! I need to RETURN to who I "really am"!!!!

Who I've become  -  is NOT the "real me".

In assessing and reassessing, I would have to agree, that I truly do need a vacation  from the girl who has dwelled within this Earthsuit the past few years.  This girl is one who has visited stress and fear and overwhelm far more than she has ever been accustomed to.  These places I've visited - since 2007 have become all -too-familiar "friends"  (gee with friends like these who needs enemies!!!) and have left residual crud upon my normally-upbeat mind.

I need a PERMANENT vacation from this girl!

I need to return to the real girl who has been suppressed for far too long.  While during these challenging days/years I've had multiple snippets of abundant life! and joy! and peace! through people on the planet - amazing people who have enriched my life beyond measure:  family, friends - who through unexpected Kairos / God moments have hit me at the most random of times.  It was these moments where I've been reminded that I am held and loved - and am truly not alone. yes!

Getting away from this current girl is a process, for sure.  Awareness of the emotional holes I've dug for the past few years is the first step in climbing out of them!  WOW ,  am I aware!   and boy are there some well-dug holes! 

A few years back I would have been one of the first to tell someone in a similar frame of mind:  "joy is not related to your circumstances -  there can be Joy regardless- rise above!" 

Yep just hit 'em with a quick fix and run.   gross

What did Christ, Himself, do when met with grieving family of a brother who was his dear friend?  He grieved with them first - empathized WITH them - he FELT their pain ... then He proceeded to raise Lazarus from the dead!

Here I am, an older dog learning a new trick. (Yes! it IS possible!)

The significance of what I've learned is transforming for sure :  when pain or struggle is "shared" (spoken)  it's usually not shared with the intent of seeking to receive an answer of "how to FIX" the issue.  A "how to" (we think we have to supply) is akin to applying a band-aid over a festering wound  and is NOT empathy or healing.  It is simply the equivalent of  waiting 30 minutes for the doctor, who finally enters the room - leaving! then gives us 2 minutes to describe what brought us there to begin with, being interruped mid-stream,  being handed a "prescription" , dismissed, with doc walking out,  left alone with the dizzying thought: "what!?!?"  and exiting to pay the co-pay - with no more clarity or peace than we  felt when arriving .   (haven't we all been there???)

I have not needed to know HOW to overcome the dark cloud I've invited to hover... I needed to SEE the Hope and Light and Joy! in others in order to recognize what I've been missing and yearning for.

Wow...

For all those of you who have touched me - in so many ways: laughed with, loved on, encouraged, spent time writing notes of "wow, I'm so sorry and am praying for", or picked up the phone to text or call me out of nowhere to tell me you were thinking of me and loved me :  THANK YOU.

For those who have spoken to me with such tenderness and thoughtfulness and offered yourselves to be or do anything that would help when I don't even know what to be or do:  THANK YOU!

For those of you who have nudged me with "hang on!", "you can do this!" and "you matter to me": THANK YOU!

For all you who have looked EXACTLY like Christ to me - as tender hearted, loving, hand-holding, heart-touching Servants:   THANK YOU!

Through you I have "seen the Light" and am returning to the Real "me".

While I'm sure, in this "land of caregiving" that I dwell in, that there will be even more challenges in store  in the near future - I am confident, once again, that He has already surrounded me with exactly who I need in my life to shine hope and love right when it is most needed.

I declare now: I am commencing with VACATING the crud  which will, indeed, be a most welcome VACATION!  (and will better me for being HOPE to others!)

Cool.

 

 Copyright 2011 J. Allen G.

Today she is 39 again...

Today: June 24, 2011  

  She was born June 24, 1934 

Happy Birthday little Momma! 

I know when I arrive at your house, in a couple of hours, the birthday greetings will surprise you... and when we joke about how old you are, you will say, for the hundred-thousandth time you are "39"... and when we try to do the math: "let's see 1934, 44, 54, 64, 74, 84, 94 - oh I'm 39!" meaning she really does NOT remember how old she is ... and I, her ever kind, considerate daughter will say: "wow mom, you're younger than me! and I'm your daughter!" which always, many times daily will elicit crinkled eyes and wide-mouthed laughter... 

(the following is an updated/edited reprint from 2007)

"Her hair crowns her head like a glimmery, silvery halo: slightly over-parted too far left, and bangs dangling a bit too close to her dim eyes, but so white - so pure.

Reflects the nature of her heart.

7ish Springs ago, a stroke played havoc in her brain.  Could have been far more severe, yet we discovered, who she was had been altered - forever altered. This was a new day.  A new dawn - a new mom. A new sister.   A new wife.  A new memory bank.

My mom who, formerly & quite prude-ishly,  would never have ever said the word "pregnant"  in full voice (whispered such words!) now freely referred to body parts by slang and would giggle, eyes scrunched up & tears flowing in glee. Young girl giggling in an elder body.

So cute.  So full of life.  Kind.  So inappropriately laughing at the weirdest times - socially unaware of her outbursts - always with hearty laughter and often happy to show whatever she was chewing at the time.  So strange...

Putting family first, always, however -that didn't change.  Her outlook.  Now THAT is what changed.

(L - R  Aunt Mary Lou, Me & My MOMMA!)

My mother had always, always, always purposed to look people straight in the eye: honoring others, demonstrating integrity and the fact that she "had nothing to hide".  She taught us kids, early on, to look directly into eyes - that honesty can be read by the eyes, after all they are "the windows to the soul you know."

One day, Momma said she was not going to drive again.  Ever.  Independent creature she was, was not going to ever, ever drive again. She had been harboring a secret: a deep, very dark secret, for awhile.  Months later, the low vision specialist called it "macular dystrophy".  Different than macular degeneration - it was from birth, just now manifesting itself to the level of "legal blindness" (took DECADES to get to this level).

No central vision.  Yes- Peripheral.  No central.

How do you look people in the eye, if you can't see their eyes?

She had hidden the changes as long as she could, hoping for healing, hoping a change in diet would make the difference - holding on to independence for as long as she could.

The pile of gravel in the road - same color as the road - was the "seal the deal".  Bottoming out on the gravel, the men at the construction site, helped her off the pile, helped her turn the car around, and she drove back - 10 houses away to the driveway - never to drive again.

Later, much later we found out.  My life, busy, stupid busy (single mom at the time) and I didn't know for months that she had not driven.

I had already watched my mom shift and change from full-sighted -professional- bookkeeper-of- family-business to someone who had to learn to feel her way - memorize her way around the house... Now her low vision was coupled with  Alzheimer's.

Crap.

I'm sure there are books to warn adult children about the changes their elder parents will go through, but I wouldn't have read it and it wouldn't have mattered a whole heck of a lot - then.

Now, well, now is now.. and now we live in the moment , for the moment, celebrating each precious moment.

It still stinks.  Sucks actually.  (I hate that term.  But dang is it appropriate)

Dad.  Dad is so amazing.  I watch him love her and snuggle her and hold hands with her.  I watch them smooch - her with her lips scrunched up to her nose (so "sexy" haha) and him, giggling all the way in for the peck, touching -oh-so-familiar, now wrinkled lips like he has a million times before.  Now they kiss with a tenderness reserved for those who are choosing to be present in this moment, almost as if they're saying:  " we must be present in this moment.  This moment is a gift and we are going to relish it , and drink it in, and celebrate it - because you never know when..."

It makes me sick to my stomach.

Not them and their beauty.

The "you never know when". Actually, only initially -  Being faced with mortality - their mortality has awakened me to a new day. I battle between celebrating the present and dreading the future.  The future without them in it.

I KNOW they will be in a "better place".  Oh yeah!!

But I know the "crowns of glory" that I love to observe - daily, will be oh, so missed.  So very missed.

I want my grandbaby to see the smooches between them and groan and say "gross" and smile inside at how cool it is to know them.

I want my sons to hear all the stories another 10 times - and know that they have become part of the next generation of love...

But the reality is, I've spent too much time on this blog - time that would be better spent giggling at Mom's wacky sense of humor and listening to Dad's "this is so funny I can barely get it out without laughing my own hiney off"  jokes!

So for now this "new" mom is MY mom - I love her and all her facets, new and older... she's cool!

Wonder what's made her giggle today?"

 

(Happy 77th Birthday, Momma!  I'll honor that you've achieved such a lovely  age, while you celebrate being "vertical" and "39 - again! ")

 

Copyright 2011 J. Allen G.

Christmas Present(s)

There is no turning back: a TECHNOID CREATED remains a TECHNOID.

When did my little boys make the transition from cowboy hats and bandanas to world-wide-Halo-game-playing-gadget-attached-at-the-palm-stand-in-line-from-4PM-THANKSGIVING DAY-all the-way-to-6:30AM-BLACK-FRIDAY-to-spend-a-puny-50.00-TECHNOIDS????

Did I do this?

Am I responsible for submitting to every whim and fantasy of two once-young boys, now young man and man???? hmmmm????

Did I DO THIS???

I take no responsibility.

I did purchase a game console this.
and that.
and that.
and that.
And version 1 of this.
and version 2 of that.
and, and, and...
(no links people - you know what they were/ are!!! you name it!)

But I held back.  OH I FOUGHT THE GOOD FIGHT.  I said "no" so many times I forgot how to formulate the word "yes" off rusty "yes lips"...

And I think there comes a time in every parent's parenting-life, when the phrase "but everybody's got one" - really, really means "everybody's got one".

Cell phone.
I resisted.  Oh, I resisted.
Oh, wow, did I ever, ever resist...

... then there came a day when I could not find, reach, talk with my young teenage son, and boy did I need to find, reach, talk with my young teenage son... and said son ordered his first track (non  contract) phone THAT EVENING.

The fact that (most) EVERYBODY did have one - really didn't come into play then, what came into play was that it became important to ME for him to have one.

But I don't think HE GOT THE MEMO that it was important to ME.  I'm almost certain, that someplace in his boy/man mind he thinks he WON, for men, boy/men often battle, do they not? fight! challenge!  conflict!  stuff that video games are made of!

So if "he" thinks he "won" - so be it, deep down I KNOW I WON...

...but then the NEXT phone is bigger...
..."mom, I really want a 'contract phone' - cheaper minutes, better yada, yada, yada..."
...for the record - I DID NOT 'win'...

Looking back 29 Christmases for one son, and 16 Christmases for the other... there are so-many-LIGHT-BULB-defining-moments-in-time that are forever etched in "me old" memory banks. Ah-HA! discovery moments (usually reserved for students) that taught me oh-so-many-valuable lessons about the giving of gifts and the receiving of gifts...

1) Regardless what the list says,from TODDLER to YOUNG CHILD:  there are never enough presents/boxes/THINGS to open!
   It's really about the OPENING.  Therefore I learned from my OLDEST SON, that if I wrapped BOXES of all shapes and sizes - whether with something in them or not (often w/ existing books/toys) - that said baby bro would be THRILLED.  Both boys loved, loved, loved reading books... both boys had their favorites, though, and would wear them out... one Christmas I wrapped the youngest one's personalized story book (gift from friend with his own name printed in various storylines - way cool) in bright Santa paper, and Rudolph paper the next.  Following year it was toys, then snowflakes!  Always the SAME book, just wrapped differently.  One year it was in a box that was in a box that was in a box...sad to say, it was a short-lived tradition, "whiskers" and " baby books" - hmm, something ain't right about that.

2) Once you go gadget, ain't no going back.  Seriously.  It is forbidden.  Cannot go "electronic Battleship" one year, and generic move em w/ no sound Battleship the next. Just can't be.

3) Children learn that the term "Family Present" - means "most expensive thing that we wouldn't normally get unless the parents think it will result in some quality FAMILY TOGETHER TIME" then kiddies will risk all kinds of personal space and time to get said EXPENSIVE item...and parents try, try, try to understand said expensive "family present" but there's dinner to cook, and roofs to shingle and kiddies end up with the expensive Family present...

4)All this said, ONE OF THE greatest, greatest, greatest "presents" of all (no vote needed, you'll know it's right when you read it! Ha!)  ... one of the GREATEST PRESENTS of ALL is.....

... BEING PRESENT...

Breathing in the very conversations of those whom I love most  - honoring them by LISTENING to them - and in doing so, enriching my life - indeed GIFTING MY LIFE by them AND gifting THEIR lives by showing them how important they are to me and to the planet. My paying attention - being PRESENT - is a far greater gift than any technical gadget, or up-to-date-phone-ery could ever be...

Breathing in deeply aware that each breath is a gift and thanking the One, who by example, has paved the way for me to BE PRESENT - as HE is PRESENT.                                                   

Emmanuel : GOD WITH US.

God with us.

(Present!)

neglected.

My little bloggy has been neglected.
My adult children have been neglected.
My miraculous, amazing, brilliant, beautiful grandson (yes BEAUTIFUL!) has been neglected.
My house repair progress has been neglected.
My hair has been neglected.
My side of the bed has been neglected.
My marriage has been neglected.
My health has been neglected.
Ultimately, my soul - yes, sadly, even the health of my SOUL, has been neglected- for too, too long...
 
I suppose my flurried, hurried, exhausted state is a product of all whirling around me: concern for others,  self-imposed commitments, family-imposed commitments (necessities), financially-imposed
commitments... Maybe more accurately, I should say my current state-of-being is directly related to my self-imposed commitments- because, ultimately I have no one to blame but myself for over-committing, when I am already "committed".  (or should be.  that would be a joke. hmm not a very funny joke!)

Lonely?
Sometimes, often actually.
Do I reach out? 
Heck no, who has time to commit to an "outside relationship"?!? After all, I don't even take time to see the few people who love me, why would I waste time with those who don't?  or try to develop friendships when my time is so limited & so precious?

Tired?
self-imposed, burning the candle from the middle (the ends were gone long ago...) only can point the fingers one way - me.

What do I do to correct?
Heck, I dunno that takes energy.

Actually I DO know, just don't know if I want to take the effort to focus on me.

Okay, so the reality is this:  If serving others is important to me (it is)  and I desire to continue serving others (I do) then I must make certain be achieve some form of "rest" in order to better serve.

Stink.

My nasty self and I had better take time to RE:

RE-  
    fuel
    fresh
    energize

By RE-establishing my relationship with my Lord who longs to "refuel,refresh and re-energize" me.

Actually, He's been longing for me to drop the load - for a long time.

Okay, Lord.  I get it.
Thick-headed.
Stubborn.
But too tired to do it on my own much longer.
Any longer...

Now,
I come back
to
You
cuz your daughter
has dried up
and needs
You
to make
it
one
more
day...

And so, with Grace and Mercy that You, alone, offer, (as a gift - I surely don't deserve it!) I receive your Love... and I begin, again, with You in the Lead. (where You belong)

Help me, God, to honor You, by honoring MY BODY, MY MIND, MY SOUL...
after all, You created me in Your image - I'm just not healthy enough to reflect You like you desire me to...

Help me be more like You.
Help me look like You do.
Help me see what You see when You're looking at me
Help me see me like You do...
So I can see what You see when You're looking THROUGH me,
So I can do what You want me to do...

(slow learner, Lord, but thanks so much for the REFRESHer course!) 

Love, love, love.

Your daughter.... me.

 

 

Warriors in Pink on the Breast Cancer 3-Day: raising awareness, money and PINK MOHAWKS

Wal-Mart Fundraiser 6/14/08
Warriors in Pink (top left to right: Leah, Teresa & friend Mickey) Amy, bottom: L - R - Judy, AnnMarie, friend PATTY, AnnMarie's daughter-Adriana, friend PATTY & mom, and  Sheila )joined by friends & family offered breast health information, artisan crafted jewelry, FancyFlops, Adopt-A-Ducky, Warriors in Pink temp tattoos & scarves, baked goods and grateful smiles to all who graced our tables yesterday.

Some observations from our adventure:
1) some people suck
2) some people don't

3) people living in the "fire" of "struggle" (read that disease, poverty, etc.) tend to have larger hearts
4) people living with a "more" attitude are oh-so-small-and-in-reality-have-so-little-which-stinks-for-them-cuz-they-never-have-enough-and-have-fat-wallets-cuz
they're-on-a-"get this next thing" budget-while-the-world-goes-"to hell in a handbasket" and they're saving for "more"... which is so very sad and so very small and just don't get me started
5) love comes in many shapes and sizes and colors and smiles
6) people (read that "person" - actually read that "Patty B" in Pink mowhawk) with Sarcoma and less than 1% survival rate have so much love to give and live life so largely and squeeze out every-last-drop of joy from every minute of every day - and when in their presence (HER) you KNOW, you KNOW, you KNOW you've just looked into the eyes of an "angel-here-on-earth", and you KNOW, you KNOW, you KNOW your life will never be the same with her in it, and you KNOW it drives you (me and my amazing Warriors) to DO MORE! Raise awareness MORE!  Raise $$$'s MORE and Give MORE so that somewhere someday soon angels-in-brand-new-pink-Mohawks, with one "new booby" and one "new 2-week-husband who doesn't care if she has one or two boobies and hair or not" don't lose those Mohawks in a matter of weeks to some blasted Chemotherapy that is sure to kill GOOD cells and PRAY TO GOD it kills the C#NCER cells while it's at it..

Geesh.

(Take a breath and re-read that "item # 6"  it's profound - because SHE is profound...)

All that being said, I am, once again sorting through the pain of loving - loving the world that is in pain - often makes the lover of the world -ahem -- FEEL pain...

At 52, I know some things:
...all of what was listed , above...
...that LOVE is an unspoken glue that connects hearts- seen and unseen-
...I know that there are people in my life who are "idle-ing" through life without passion or purpose and my heart breaks for them that they know not what I'm speaking of or experiencing
...and as much as  my heart breaks for those dwelling in complacency, it breaks more for those who aren't..
for those who aren't are dwelling in the Land of Passion for Something Bigger than themselves...and those who aren't (living in the Land of Complacency, remember? hee)  are setting themselves up to Loving Largely... and it is, indeed, a GUARANTEE that if you "love large" you are gonna get hurt - badly hurt - because your HEART feels what their pain feels like - loving care and concern does that, you know.  And LOVING HEARTS connect with this GLORIOUS world on so many different levels, and LOVING HEARTS see more to love, everywhere they look, and with that brings even more heart-ache, because when you LOVE you CARE and when you CARE when those whom you LOVE experience PAIN---- so do you.

And that, my loves, that is when you (read that "I") SCRATCH THE SURFACE on the intense LOVE of the Heavenly Father for His Son and for the world - His kids..

Ah-ha... the Love of the Father...rejoicing with His kids who are rejoicing while hurting with His kids who hurt

And He loves me (read that "US") so much that He wants us to Love as He loves - pain and all- because in the loving and in the hurting is where  true LIFE and JOY is found ...

...now THAT's "Father's Day"...

...and the truth behind the phrase: "because I love you, honey... this is going to hurt me more than it does you..."

...indeed it does...

Spread way too thin. Then why are my hips so big?

I drove the 60 mile jaunt to St. Joseph Michigan, last night - alone with my thoughts. Alone after having spent a day with my little momma who had a bad bout of high blood pressure, she so accurately diagnoses as "the flu".

I spent 2 hours in the hotel room decompressing.

It took 5 minutes to dress, check out and make it back home to see how my momma was doing, and all Auntie plans OUT THE WINDOW - because, after all, she is doing well and my momma was....??? didn't know...

 

My little momma said her head felt "Busy" -translate "dizzy" head = nausea = check her Blood Pressure cuz it's gonna be a doozy.

Checked & it was so very high.

Scary high.

But my dad, momma's "dearly beloved" let his little short-term-memory-deficient-sweetheart convince him that she needed to shower first, before going to doc or hospital.  And she felt too sick to shower so it resulted in my dad allowing my mom to make a decision for her own welfare, based on incomplete and inaccurate information, just cuz she wanted to wash up first.

How cool that she cares about her girls. How sad that she could have stroked out (again) and he - we - because I didn't have the balls, uh, er COURAGE to step in and intervene, because God only knows it would make matters worse.

I want to scream. I want to cry.  It's so difficult walking on eggshells so my sweet daddy won't stroke - an action that could very well cost my momma her life.

How in the world do you balance that?

In the meantime, Auntie, needed me to have a care conference - at the same time.  As God would do it, He has worked out the details, providing another week of care for Auntie where she loves it and is loved. Deep breath while I focus on momma for awhile... well at least for another day...

Hope! A labor of love...

My daughter-in-love is the daughter a "girl-less family longs for".   She continually surprises me with support and affirmation and uninhibited love - exactly when I most need it. As mom's we learn from each other.  As wives we learn from each other.  As much "friend" as she is "family", I've grown to trust her insight and crave her confirmation or discernment.  When weary from life's challenges she supports me with empathy and love.

I kinda like the girl... a lot.  Bunches... with mushy kisses on her forehead-momma-love...

Creative. Passionate. Attachment parenting guru. Green. Sacrificial. Intensely protective, yet supremely providing boundaries and oh, such freedom to "be!, explore!, do!" within those boundaries - I watch my daughter-in-love navigate this life with power and determination.    Her tiny, gentle, oft-quiet self, nonetheless has a strong presence of "I honor you, world, but do not 'threaten' my family - oh, don't even think about it".

This amazing young wear her baby momma, has launched her beautiful!new Spring Line at her shop -  Nest Baby Slings.

In support of her aunt - bi-lateral mastectomy from breast cancer and in support of my fund-raising efforts for Susan G. Komen for the Cure, proceeds from the sales of  this beautiful , pink "HOPE" baby sling  will go toward breast cancer research!  Also offered is her  Hope Hatchling Sling where young child, or older sibling my proudly wear around their "hatchling dolls" (or dinos! or dump trucks! as the case may be) while mommy wears baby / toddler.

Please check out the new line!  Each sling is beautifully hand-made with love by her very own self! Take a peek (or 5!). These make a most PERFECT shower gift, new-baby gift, sling season upgrade, or Toddler-wanna-be-like-momma present for the young tykes!

You're gonna love 'em as much as I do.

(Daughter - I'm so proud of you!  I love your line!  "Hope" is PERFECT! - truly represents the mission - we fight for the Cure!)

Not holding my breath...

She received a bill from her fav chiropractor - the "good doctor" for $139.00. 

While waiting for an emergency HIP REPLACEMENT she asked me repeatedly to make sure I pay that bill.

While waiting for an emergency HIP REPLACEMENT she asked me repeatedly to make sure I pay that bill.

Hmm did I just repeat myself?

No, I repeated HER repeating HERSELF.

"Honey, he's a good 'doctor'. I need to pay that bill."

"I'll check, I promise. Well, you're gonna get a new hip, anytime now... are you scared?"

"Nope, but I need to pay that bill. "

(the world would benefit from such bill-paying responsibility)

That "bill" was balance due from "manipulating" her hurt leg. That good "doc" took x-rays of her leg. Proceeded to explain to her friend why her left leg is over 2"shorter than her right leg - something useless and might have well as been a storyline from a roger rabbit type cartoon - like:- "compression of the spine" from gravity/age/from being whacked on the head too many times with a giant mallet until bottom fully buried in sand, except from waist up where she proceeded to weeble-wobble back and forth until her brain got mushy and it caused memory loss and make her leg short".

This guy who trys to  resemble a "medical professional"  is far, far less "medical" and more, more "witch doctor that gives HOLISTIC HEALTH CARE a black eye and bad name, and dared to treat this woman over $300.00 worth before he finally said "there's nothing more I can do , I think you need to go to an orthopedic DOCTOR".

Ya think?

Gee, her stinking BALL JOINT was only fractured - horizontally cracked OFF. I mean - clean across, cracked - fractured OFF.

Turns out the yahoo (chiro) took an xray of that hip.

Turns out the yahoo saw the SHORT LEG and  attributed it to arthritis in her spine. (not the roger rabbit version I created)

Turns out the yahoo has ANOTHER scheduled appointment with my aunt this Monday - that I will keep. I will show up for the appointment and I will calmly gather her x-rays (as requested by orthopedic) and I will then -WITH XRAYS IN HAND- proceed to tell him that he manipulated a woman's FRACTURED HIP- not once -but 2 different times: each time, stretching, pulling, doing everything OPPOSITE of what should have been done to a fractured hip...

I want to watch his face.  I hope it matters to him.

I hope he'll look at me in shock, in horror at what I am saying to him and realize his role in taking a little old lady and establishing her TRUST in their alternative-medical RELATIONSHIP - taking that CHILDLIKE TRUST and filling her mind with a RIDICULOUS, completely wrong "diagnosis" - which attributed to her suffering an extra 4 weeks of excruciating , unnecessary pain and hardship.

I hope he gives a darn.

And I truly hope TRUE Alternative Healthcare professionals are not hurt by someone who so casually plays "god"...

I hope his mom, his aunt, his loved one never experiences to them the equivalent of what he did to her...

I hope.

(but I ain't holding my breath)

78: naked and unashamed

When the CRAZY phone call came last week , it alerted us to trouble.

Making a late morning call, I was stunned to find my "always-early-riser" Aunt still in bed "her time" - 1 hour ahead of us.   She, who is notorious for rising at the crack of dawn was still in bed at noon.  An immediate visit was in order.

While traveling the 1 hour-on-a-clear-day jag to my Aunt's, I tried to prepare myself for what I would be finding when I got there.  I knew she had hurt her leg. I didn't know how badly.  I knew it had been "a few days ago".  I knew she was diagnosed with  DEMENTIA last October, but we had already seen many, many signs of memory loss  that popped up randomly-unexpectedly-inappropriately.

Now, a half an hour away, I reflected on her history - her roots in her town & what had been so familiar & comforting to her. What had now become a "prison" to her...

She's been a great tenant. Sharing a 2-flat historic home on red-brick streets 2 blocks from Lake Michigan in scenic mid-America, for the last almost-30-years, she has always shoveled the sidewalks, the driveway and the porch on this old home.  Younger families moving in and out of the lower flat, she's remained - having lived up stairs - up MANY stairs all those years, having traveled a steep, dark stair well for so long that her delicate fingers have smoothed out once-rough, now oh-so-familiar and friendly handrails that guide her up counted/memorized/visualized steps to her door.

She's been housebound for weeks. Although she earnestly claims her fall  - from shoveling the driveway for the landlord (she's 78 for pete'sake!) was "3 days ago" - a friend took her to the chiropractor on Feb 3rd AFTER weeks of pain.

We didn't know.

We've communicated NUMEROUS times with her.  I don't know if she was trying to protect her younger sister from worrying (my mom) or if she was merely forgetting to talk about it.

When I arrived, care packages in hand, she called me in - sitting on her new pastel sofa- bright eyed and oh-so-tiny and worked so hard to stand and give me a "proper greeting".  Dressed in her church finest - struggling to get up off the couch and grabbing the walker loaned to her by her neighbor "yesterday", she slowly, carefully, painfully moved to the kitchen, gingerly sat at the table and watched expectantly as I unloaded my packages.  En route, I had called her to see if I could pick up anything specific for her.  "Honey, if you don't mind, could you pick up a hamburger?  I haven't eaten today, yet." (3:00 p.m. HER time)

I joined her as she ate from a collection of all the favorite things I could think of - like a child given free reign at a dessert table. Joy. Delight. Starvation.  Without trying to - she has lost from 155 to 107 in 6 months.  Now I know why.  She's forgetting to eat.

I broke inside - wondering how long had it been since she'd eaten. Why didn't I know? Why didn't I make the effort? How could I love someone so much and not care enough to know - to call - to check in - to ASK THE RIGHT QUESTIONS - to care enough.  Regardless of my issues with my mom , this is my precious aunt, my family - and I am her power of attorney...

Throughout our visit, I approached touchy subjects with her. At one point she met my look and locked in - eye to eye: " I want you to know, I pray every night.  I thank God for my good life. I pray every morning when I wake up. I thank Him for my good life. This morning when I talked with Him, I asked him what I should do today.  He told me to 'take it easy', so I did. He really told me. I've had a great life.  I've experienced more than most people. I've traveled and done things some never will. I have no regrets. I tell Him I am ready to go." 

The intensity, the impact of those words disarmed me.  She was there.  Real and "present" and "current"  (I now understand the difference in the two). Immediately after, the "new her" returned, innocent, childlike, repetitive... it may have been fleeting, but I know it was real.

Trying to support her - 1 hour away (on a good day) is going to be so difficult. Hoping her desire to "caregive" her sister would overrule her resistance to move, to change - I tried to encourage her to take time to visit- I would be her wheels - take time now while they both know each other. She repeatedly asserted that "I'm not bad yet, I'm independent, I can take care of myself". Must have heard that 20 times.

Preparing to leave she caught me off guard by asking: "do you think you could help me into my pj's? I have a hard time getting my leg into the bottoms".  Happy to oblige this fiercely-independent creature, I stepped 6 feet away into the bathroom & returned to find a 78 year old little girl, sitting naked as a jaybird on the couch, ready for "mommy" to dress her. (how did she raise her leg? did she forget she hurt?)

I've never seen 78 and naked.

She was beautiful.  Her naked, little girl, 107 pound self sitting there so innocently, so trustingly, only her wrinkled face betraying her age.  Her innocence was beautiful.

And heartbreaking.

I dressed her.

"Don't lock the porch door!"                                                                                                                  "I won't."

Kissed her goodbye.

"Don't lock the porch door!"                                                                                                                 "I won't.  Surely love you, I'll call you tomorrow & see you next week!"

"Love you, honey. Don't lock the porch door!"                                                                                         "I won't. Bye! Love you!"   

"Don't lock the porch door!"                                                                                                                  "I won't."
            

Walked numbly down the steep, dark stairwell.
Drove off into the night, leaving her to fend for herself.
While I returned home to assist my parents.
While she sits there.
Little.
Alone.
Ready to go.
Forgetting to eat.
Forgetting her present.

Remembering to remind all, not to lock the porch door but...

Forgetting her very self.

of cackles, guffaws and powers of attorney...

"She hurt her leg shoveling. (laugh, hahaha) Well, actually she hurt her leg because she forgot to turn it when her body turned"  (hahaha!) She lies alot (hee hee ha ha)  She is the sweetest thing and doesn't lie at all (hahahaha) Oh, and by the way, who's her power of attorney? I want to help her in her checkbook. (haha ho ho ho, cackle, etc.)"

Above is a segment of a recent conversation to my folks.  Call came in late one night from someone they knew only by name - laughing uncontrollably, speaking sluggishly -as if drunk- bellowing rudely in the calm night with the intentions of helping her buddy (the sister, my aunt) because she's getting "senile".

And who, exactly, needs help here?

I'd say when a "getting senile" friend of a "getting rapidly senile" aunt is calling to get help for said friend/aunt - that said aunt must be in a whole lot of down-hill memory, functioning sliding.  Auntie is 1 hour away (on a clear day) and who has never had a roommate, nor spouse, nor anyone to give & take with.  You know how families do.  Sacrifice.  Compromise.  All the stuff that grows us into people who live within community.

She lives alone. Always has.  Always wanted to.  Still wants to.

When do I (power of attorney) intervene?  Is there a SIGN?  hmmm this call from senility about senility just could be a doozy.  Ya think? 

And just HOW do I intervene?  Traveling every week for a day of bookkeeping/stuff is do-able.  What about when she forgets how to climb back upstairs to her apartment.  What about when she gets lost (again) driving to a 30+ years of traveling to a familiar place and no one knows how to reach her because she refused, yelled, stamped her feet when given a new-fangled-cell-phone- for Christmas 2 years ago.

Independent. to a fault. independent, nonetheless.

My feeble attempt to connect and earn her trust for her future begins this week.
My strategy is to see where on her "caregiver" chart her heart is, these days.  If, indeed, she 's still the same "adoptive momma" to us nieces & nephews, then I've got some people who  would benefit from her "care".  People here.  Hopefully I can inspire her to be "utilized" - to come here to help take care of her sister (my mom) and my uncle. (widower) Move here - close by.

Hmm.  The best laid plans are merely IDEAS. Ideas sometimes merely equal an empty plastic grocery bag swirling around in the whirlwind... The next few days will show just how feasible this all is.  In the mean time I become a "parent" to this beauty and carefully guide and instruct - all the while trying to balance respect for my beautiful elder and care for this ever-increasingly-becoming-woman-child.

For those who wish to be young again - careful what you wish for.

"I see your true colors-

-shining through.  I see your true colors, and that's why I love you. So don't be afraid to let them show. You're true colors -- are beautiful -- like a rainbow"...

If you ever want to know how it is - how it really is - ask a young child.

Purity. Simplicity.
True colors.

Here we have a little man helping big man work with his stick-"scu-dwy-uh".
Little man putting his "screwdriver" into the screw hole and frustrated that nothing was happening.
Little man, how did you know that something was supposed to happen when you put the screwdriver in the screw hole? You're too young to know that!!

He always knew.

"Hey buddy, what do you want to be when you grow up all big like daddy?"
"Cars"
"You want to be a car driver?"
"Ca-a-rs" (a bit more emphatically)
"You want to be a car?"
"Ca-a-a-a-a-rs!!"  (holding out the word did not really help me get it any easier!)
"You want to have cars? a lot of cars?"
(nodding affirmatively)   "Cars!!!"

For the longest I thought he meant he would have cars, many beautiful shiny cars parked in a huge-o-mongo garage.

Here he is balancing.

This child has always "balanced" far better than I could ever dream to:

play vs work
save vs spend
family vs friends
He's balanced - or at least more balanced than anyone I've ever met before.
Which is foreign to me.
And scares me, a bit.

Showing me a shiny penny  "Momma, I'm c'lecting"
"You're collecting pennies?"
"Yes"
I corrected: "saving, buddy.  Collecting pennies would be called saving pennies."
(with furrowed brow and a frown, under his breath- yet loud enough to hear) "C'lecting!!"
He was right.
Collecting is a different mind set.
Collecting is gathering things that - to him- had value and enjoying them.  Saving is more like gathering and putting away.
The child WAS collecting.

Collecting pennies.
Collecting cars - metal cars, plastic cars, wood cars, calendars of cars...

As he grew, he collected many things:
Friends
And parents of friends who loved him
And baseball hats
And movies
And video games
And everything Pokemon (used to!)
And jokes
And joke books
And athletic shirts with team sponsor names - each one he had passionately played on- soccer and basketball

And drawings of cars
Drawings that I eventually learned would be to add to his collection
of things he longed to do, to accomplish

Fast forward - uh, say 10 years - back to cars.

"Son, now that you're in Junior High, have you been thinking about what you want to do when you're out of High School?"
"Yeah, cars". 
"Uh, more specific than 'cars' - are you saying you want to have many of your favorite cars - because in order to do that you're going to have to work in a field that makes a lot of money in order to be able to afford those cars and the huge-o-mongo-garage to put them in.."  (I'm so wise, seeing the big picture like I do)
"Mom, I've been thinking about making cars"
"Ohhh, like building cars?  like manufacturing?"
"Like where dad works"
"You want to work in a car dealership? oh! and work in the service department and fix cars?"
(with a look of disgust because it was obvious I didn't get it or him...)  "Mom, I want to DESIGN and build  and manufacture cars.  I want to have a CAR COMPANY and call them whatever I want to. I want to design and make cars for people to buy and drive".

Oh.

CA-A-A-ARS... I get it. Finally. (This boy's going to make me a rich old lady)

Okay, now the full truth is - this conversation is the GIST of what actually transpired.
What actually transpired was over numerous conversations, but it all boiled down to this: this child had vision - then and now.
This child researched what FIELDS he would have to go into to become a car designer.
His true colors.

Who thinks like that?  Not me, how foreign.  and a bit scary.

"I love you, Mom".
"Sure love you too, buddy"...

5 minutes later, I hear coming from the living room while engaged in a Tiger Woods golf game:  "I love you, Mom!"
"Love you too, buddy".

Never ashamed to say it or to kiss goodbye in front of friends.
True colors.

Saying goodbye to his stinky-old-man-friend- Bear

February will be 1 year since we had to put down our old-man dog, Bear. Broke our hearts. Timmy & Bear had a love-hate relationship.  Early days, Bear didn't like little boys.  Little boy was broken hearted over a doggie who regularly rejected him & preferred "the mom" in the house.  Little boy loved old doggie anyway.Little boy, now young man, grieving the truth before him: he will be a part of a convoy driving to the vet to put this old, stinky, lovable doggie out of his pain and misery. No matter the dog used to snarl his underbite at the boy. No matter the dog used to jump in mom's lap & not his.

He loved anyway.
Eventually his gushy, amazing love broke through and that old dog loved that boy. And followed him in the house. And jumped his old, hurting feeble self onto the boy's bed where he received a  gentle head rub and oh-so-tender-touch on his oh-so-painful-back.

At the vet, Bear looked into the eyes of the 2 boys from his life - these two- brothers -who loved this old, ugly dog unconditionally -  and this old dog found comfort - you could see it in his eyes - as he drifted off to forever-sleep - looking into the eyes of this man/child the one - the younger brother - who had loved unconditionally until he was loved back...
He collects love by giving it.

(here he's gathering love in from Molly-girl)

Here he's pouring in some love to baby nephew and collecting some beautiful, wet-kiss-I-love- Uncle Timbo, in return.

15 and headed to a ceremony...(6' 1.5")

" My beautiful son.  Happy 16th Birthday!!!  Today, this morning - precisely at 8:07 -as you know- you became 16 years old. Knowing how your brother's world from 16 to 28 was merely "yesterday" - this 16th birthday of yours is "bittersweet".

SWEET:
16 years of showing your family, your friends your world just what an amazing gift we've been given by, God.  Why He entrusted you into our care is beyond me (both of you boys - brothers, are nothing short of awe-inspiring in talent & vision - truly thumbprints of God).  Maybe He knew Dad & I needed you to help grow US.  Maybe He wanted those in our lives to come to know you and help grow you by experiences - rich and full - AND maybe in His wisdom, He knew our WORLD, the world Dad & I move in - needed what you had to bring to it.  What I DO know, is I'm grateful that you are you.  You love deeply.  You hurt deeply but you forgive easily.  You work to make good decisions and choose great friends.  You love the unlovely and unlovable - you feel them.  I'm so proud of you. 

Your growth these 16 years has been spiraling - the last 2 - spiraling UP in intensity and passion and interest.  I watch you calculate numbers in your mind - how you SEE them -and I'm in awe.  And yet as scholarly as you are - I'm so very proud that you are so HUMAN and balanced.  I'm proud that you choose to follow Christ and love that you are drawing closer and resembling Him more each day.  I'm so proud that you choose the hard way, the narrow way, and love all along the way... 

BITTER:  not really bitter - just a bit "sad" because this day brings you one day closer to leaving this nest, from my momma arms, and into the world that is waiting for your adult sensibilities and offerings...

Son, may this year be another milestone toward your goals.   Because intelligence, in and of itself,  is oft sensual and intoxicating, I pray you continue to seek wise counsel and His direction for each "next step". Keep true to your heart. Keep true to yourself for, my son, your TRUE COLORS are, indeed, beautiful - so beautiful.  I love you, buddy.   Happy Birthday! Momma"

My hero is 79 today.

Heroes come in all shapes and ear sizes...

I am the daughter of this man - my hero- and I am so proud.

This is a man that could do anything he put his mind to. Who was only limited by the always-too-fast-decending shadows of nightfall yet held tightly to the hope of another day with more to do.

More than merely mentoring, this man's legacy to his family has been rich with layers of growth: inquisitive mind -exploring- questioning- looking for a better way, a simpler way, a re-design of an old design or a new, brand-new design of something to make a hobby more fun, or high-rise-dwellers safer in case of fire and the need for rapid/safe escape or to make a repair easy with what was on hand...

My father is the kind of man who would take his family to the park: not to play on swings or picnic.  Oh no.  My father is the man who would take his family to the park to witness him: bubbling with excitement - strapping on the safety harness, much like a mountain climber ready to begin ascent to the summit of his "peak of dreams"... he is the man who, rung by rung, each one met with more excitement the the last, successfully climbed up the city water tower (yes, 'tis true)... attaching his fire escape invention to the top ladder rung, and proceeded to test his invention's performance by oh-so-carefully-slowly- lowering himself to the ground - hanging off the side of the tower - oblivious to anything other than the pure joy, the delight and peter-pan-passion (always the glimmer of the boy in his eyes) living a fairy-tale-come- true  moment right in front of us! It worked! And he wasn't arrested! And people's lives were going to be saved!  And it worked!!

He is the man who delights in sharing jokes for the 101st time and each time just as hilarious as the time before and each time accompanied with crinkled-invisible eyes dancing with joy at the buried-treasure hilarity.  This is a man whose rugged, lined face rich with experience, more often than not, softens at the thought of his children... and his children's children... and the joy of the truth of the love passed through generations this joy communicates to well-used tear ducts the need to spill over their banks - yet once again -  upon thoughts of great-grand-baby-love's newest interest (papa tractor!) or sharing inside joke-ery with his beloved, my momma - with words more unsaid than said- between them. Their language of love and of life so oft unspoken, yet known and well-worn like a favorite pair of brown leather shoes - the ones that wrap oh-so-familiarly around your foot, as if you slipped them on when the chocolate was warm and sweet and thick and it cooled to exact-foot-fit proportions.

This man is driven to love - driven by the love of his Lord to love others.

Passionate.
Fiercely protective.
Often and freely gifts his love to strangers who may or may not be worthy of it, but are reciepients, nonetheless.

Today, February 3, 2008 this man is 79.

I am honored to be his daughter.
I'm honored to share pieces of his nature.  Nice way of saying I have his "hard head" : he loves to call me a "chip off the old block-head"!!! I'm proud to carry on the blood line with his "Allen ears" that he's worn so proudly and I've worked so hard to cover up! I'm proud to have learned to find a bargain and see that bargain as an INVESTMENT and buy them all to sell later! (smile!)

I'm honored to be his daughter - from sitting on his shoulders as a little girl- to rebuilding front porches on office buildings - to sharing hopes and concerns of the future with tender, almost secretive / knowing looks... (changes...changes...)

I read this poem recently, by Stanley Kunitz ---how I saw Dad in it's pictures...

Touch Me, from Collected Poems   
Stanley Kunitz

Outdoors all afternoon
under a gunmetal sky
staking my garden down,
I kneeled to the crickets trilling
underfoot as if about
to burst from their crusty shells;
and like a child again
marveled to hear so clear
and brave a music pour
from such a small machine.
What makes the engine go?
Desire, desire, desire.
The longing for the dance
stirs in the buried life.
One season only,
and it’s done.

So let the battered old willow
thrash against the windowpanes
and the house timbers creak.
Darling, do you remember
the man you married? Touch me,
remind me who I am.

On this, his 79th birthday, I am most inspired by his DESIRE, DESIRE, DESIRE - the longing for the dance of this glorious life- to:

Love God
And because he loves God so passionately and so tenderly... he

Loves Man
And because he loves God so passionately and tenderly, that naturally  makes him love man so deeply and he's driven to...

Speak with the world
Help the world
Love the people of the world
And do anything and everything possible to
Serve the world... (because God so loved the world that He sent His Son...)

Thanks, Papa, for living the faith life right in front of me and my children.  Thank you for being a strong example of hope, and trust and good moral values.  Thank you for showing what to look for in a husband by being a faithful, loving, protective husband to mom.  Thank you for parenting, for sometimes over-parenting and for being driven, by love, to serve your family. Thank you for the countless times you've sacrificed for your family.  For each job you worked to provide.  For each hour you spent away from home to put food on the table and give your family a warm place to dwell.  Thank you for teaching me how to shoot a gun at targets, for treating me like a PERSON not "just a girl", for trusting me and for your FRIENDSHIP.  I love you, dad.  Thanks for "this dance"... Oh, and Pop, I still won't break.

Happy Birthday, with love...

...and I'm ready for bed.

These days they are a flyin'
My mind she is a racin'
My heart she is a breakin'
And I'm ready for bed.

Use to be my "go to" was chocolate or even better CHOCOLATE FUDGE WALNUT BROWNIES.  Now, all too often my "go to" is  "sleep".

Clarification.

I actually don't really sleep much.   5ish hours per night.   About a 5 min POWER nap daily.  That's it.  Play catch up every 3 weeks or so - actually get in 6 - 7 hours... but mostly 5.

Yet, these days I've found myself filling up with so many "TO's" that truly "being IN the moment" and processing each moment - escapes me. And escaping me protects me from feeling too deeply: hurting too deeply, grieving too deeply, even loving too deeply. (spread so thin)

I liken that to sleep.  There but not "present".  My current "TO" list - note: far BROADER than a mere "to DO" list - DO is a GIVEN...

To think: process me, them, us, we, devastation, future, hope
To plan: me, them, us, we, devastation, future, hope
To remind: me, them, us, we, them
To go: for, because, now, later, always 
To  research:  for, because, now, later, always, too much
To walk:  away, to, from, slowly, briskly, far, farther
To organize: me. 
To help:  them, them, them, them 
To love: better, practically, emotionally, attached, fully, unconditionally 
To purpose:  to squeeze life while life is squeezable.

I'm not a cancer survivor.
I'm not an elder with failing memory.
I'm not an elder with low, low, low vision.
I'm not a spouse watching my spouse decline-right before my eyes.
I'm not a teenager feeling alone: brilliant, funny, left-out.
I'm not a husband struggling to manage - with vision- yet limited by others.
I'm not a church leadership with bruises.
I'm not a daughter-in-love pulled from every direction as wife, mother, business-woman, friend, daughter.
I'm not an adult son struggling to be healthy, to plan for the future of his family while his hands, his WAY TO MAKE A LIVING, are killing him.
I'm not - no I'm not.

But I am me.

And me is a child of The One who holds and deeply loves all those in ways I cannot.  And He offers me peaceful sleep - it's up to me to receive it.  (Thank You...)

Do I hear "naptime"!"

You've got dementia...

Aunt Mary Lou - cutie pie with her head by my shoulder.  Mom's older sister.
Mary  was the kind of aunt that would sneak you a puff of her cigarette and giggle and say "just one, honey, it's not good for you".  The kind of aunt that became a second momma.  Never married.  No kids, just us nieces and nephews.

Mary Lou was an executive secretary to big shot at Whirlpool in Benton Harbor for over 30 years.  Tough as nails. Used to handling life and handling people.  Told men in the office where to get off, what to do, and often where to stick it. :) 

Mary Lou lived large.   Loved large.  Hurt deeply. 

Many years ago, she was dating a fella, grew to love him and hoped for a future with him.  Mary had emergency appendectomy and while she was in the hospital, "fella" married somebody else.

Nice guy.

Nice guy ran into Mary MANY years later and wife was an invalid and he was lonely (horn-toad) and wanted to "rekindle" the romance with Mary.

She had wanted to build a life with this man.  This was a test.

She passed!

She told me she had told him to "S _ _ _ w himself" and NO way, and other choice words.  Bottom line, she valued herself enough to say NO.  I'm so stinking proud of her!

Witty, laughing till tears stream down her eyes, those eyes so often look lost now.  Those of us who have the privilege of seeing her 5 - 6 times a year have seen the changes -rapid changes.  Last year she couldn't remember 4 of the 6 visits.

We all knew.  Now she knows.

Going to the doctor, test after test, Mr. Professional, SENSITIVE Doctor-Guy says (while looking at test results) " I see you have dementia."

Like he was telling her the Strep test came back positive... Like he was telling her that her blood pressure was too high...   Like telling her: "oh, and by the way, you parked in the wrong spot"...

Moron.

And, just for clarification, because she's single, she was alone. ALONE.  BY HERSELF.   At the doctor's office, undergoing testing, and hearing a word that rattled her world.  Alone and being told her mind was slipping.   Alone to process, to grieve, to wonder...to wander.

Does she have presence of mind to really get it?  Can the whole picture be realized?  Living alone. Doing alone?  How do you function in this world by yourself, when your mental world changes and you don't even know it is changing?

So she lives alone - she refuses to move closer - or "in" with family. She does laundry - down 45 stairs (2 stories) and up 45 stairs.  She drives.  She shops. She maneuvers through town... with dementia.

My mind is a whirlwind of "what can I do?" and these days are being filled with helplessness AND "just do it" whatever "it" is, just do SOMETHING, anything to help.

And so I go drink another cup of coffee.

Invisibility:on being a Mom (for Ashlee)

NOTE:  This, in it's ENTIRETY, is an email I received that stunned me - moved me- affirmed me.  I hope it does you too...(writer unknown..)

"I'm invisible.....

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way  one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a
satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Pick me up right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.

She's going... she's going... she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip,and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure
why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
            -No one can say who built the great cathedrals -we have no record of their names.
            -These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
            -They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.                                                                             -The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why areyou spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked or bought, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one  of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our  lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I rea lly think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand-bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women."

Thank you for giving...

Recently spent the day at US Steel, Gary Works as the keynote speaker for United States Steel's  2007 United Way Campaign.  Emcee?  Moderator?  Hmmm hard to classify it...

Given the task to speak to 1200 men/women from 6:30 a.m. (5:00 a.m. arrival - YES it's true) to 5:00 p.m.  LONG DAY.  LONG amazing WOW kind of day.

My charge was:  "Hey Jude, you're a professional speaker, I've always known that - okay, so I'm the Project Manager for the USS 2007 United Way Campaign (big task!) and I need you to come speak.  You know - INSPIRE!  CHARGE!  Be authentic - you're so good at it, and be passionate! I know you can communicate that! And we're gonna ask people to give - like never before and we're gonna feed 'em and celebrate the 34 agencies that Lake Area United Way funds and we're gonna show real people - who their money's going to and, and... and I want YOU to be the speaker..."

Get the picture?  Big charge.

Big.

"Is he nuts?" was my first thought (silently!).

"Absolutely!" was my second thought (out loud! did I just tell him YES' ???').

"Stink!"  was my third thought (what the heck did I just get myself into?)

THE DAY - as in THE DAY of speak-age - I was given more specific directives - by 2 people, at the same time -5 minutes before the first bus arrived to the Celebration Center - 5 minutes before I was to take the microphone and SAY WORDS OUT LOUD. 

Didn't even have a pen to take their notes with...

So I grabbed the microphone and I did what I love to do - I said words.  Hopefully a few, well-chosen, heart-felt words.  I sensed emotions raised and eyes brightened...saw heads lifted from oh-so-tired-people who were longing to be in their beds from another long 3rd shift - and we connected.

In preparing for something so open-ended and unclear, I felt that God had given me a specific task. My mission was to somehow communicate to these precious people that THEY MATTERED.  Their individual effort DID matter. The "power of the individual and the dynamic force of many" has been resounding in my soul since this past March.  I knew I was charged with communicating to these people that their sacrifice - their dollar combined with other dollars became a DYNAMIC FORCE, that was life-changing for so many people.  How easy it is to get lost in the thinking "I won't make a difference. Giving 60 cents of every 100.00 (considered a 'fair share') won't make a difference"...

When my 15 year old son was in elementary school - we struggled financially.  Willing struggle - oldest son in college and happy to sacrifice to help provide higher education. Just do it.  Sacrifice of love.  Needing child care after school proved to be an expensive problem.  I was faced with shorter days just to be with Timmy - which also means less effective at work and less $'s on payday.

The Boys Club was our MIRACLE gift!  For $10.00 Timmy became a member.  As a member, I'd leave work for a short break, pick him up from school, pick up a snack, and go immediately to "the CLUB".   He safely checked in, almost every day they were open, eat his snack and run and play in a well-supervised, enclosed, clean, emotionally-supportive, wonderful environment.  For $10.00 per YEAR. 

$10.00  per YEAR.   

Peace of mind was priceless.  Who picked up the balance of the costs?  It never occurred to me. I just lived life and ran through the days.

At this US Steel event I learned that The UNITED WAY picked up the balance.  Almost $400.00 per child per year.  The United Way, funded by people who would never see the face of my son.

5 minutes before speaking I knew why I had been sent.  I was finally able to THANK these who had so generously given through payroll deduction - some for DECADES - for agencies like the Boys & Girls Clubs, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, Meals on Wheels, Arc Bridges (developmentally challenged) and 28 other remarkable agencies.  Givers, like these people at USS helped me through a tough season in MY life.  They had a face to connect to their giving - and the face was smiling and genuinely saying "thank you, thank you, thank you."

Hours of buses, hours of re-speaking the same (similar) message - and it didn't get old. THE LAST group of the day, as I was "shooting" my thank-yous directly to some amazing eyes, I was stopped dead in my tracks as one young man so clearly, so firmly said:  "you're so welcome".

Tears stinging, silence so thick you could feel it touching you and direct eye contact with hearts connected but for a moment... I tried to regroup, but moved beyond composure as I watched wrinkled grimy faces nodding in affirmation, younger, brighter eyes smiling in agreement...  We who were privy to that moment knew we experienced a defining moment in time:  they "got it". 

He knew he had made a difference.

THEY knew THEY had made a difference.

I knew I had made a difference.

How cool is that?

Who is this? she's a hoot!!!

Her hair crowns her head like a glimmery, silvery halo: slightly over-parted too far left, and bangs dangling a bit too close to her dim eyes, but so white - so pure.

Reflects the nature of her heart.

3ish Springs ago, a stroke played havoc in her brain.  Could have been far more severe, yet we discovered, who she was had been altered - forever altered.  This was a new day.  A new dawn - a new mom. A new sister.   A new wife. 

My mom who, quite prude-ishly wouldn't say the word "pregnant"  - now freely referred to body parts by slang and would giggle, eyes scrunched up & tears flowing in glee. Young girl giggling in an elder body.

So cute.  So full of life.  Kind.  So inappropriately laughing at the weirdest times.  So strange...

Putting family first, always -that didn't change.  Her outlook.  Now THAT is what changed.

(L - R  Aunt Mary Lou, Me & My MOMMA!)

My mother had always, always, always purposed to look people straight in the eye: honoring others, demonstrating integrity and the fact that she "had nothing to hide".  She taught us kids, early on, to look directly into eyes - that honesty can be read by the eyes, after all they are "the windows to the soul you know."

One day, Momma said she was not going to drive again.  Ever.  Independent creature she was, was not going to ever, ever drive again. She had been harboring a secret: a deep, very dark secret, for awhile.  Months later, the low vision specialist called it "macular dystrophy".  Different than macular degeneration - it was from birth, just now manifesting itself to the level of "legal blindness" (took DECADES to get to this level).

No central vision.  Yes- Peripheral.  No central.

How do you look people in the eye, if you can't see their eyes?

She had hidden the changes as long as she could, hoping for healing, hoping a change in diet would make the difference - holding on to independence for as long as she could.

The pile of gravel in the road - same color as the road - was the "seal the deal".  Bottoming out on the gravel, the men at the construction site, helped her off the pile, helped her turn the car around, and she drove back - 10 houses away to the driveway - never to drive again.

Later, much later we found out.  My life, busy, stupid busy (single mom at the time) and I didn't know for months that she had not driven.

I had already watched my mom shift and change from full-sighted -professional- bookkeeper-of- family-business to someone who had to learn to feel her way - memorize her way around the house... Now her low vision was coupled with brain damage.

Crap.

I'm sure there are books to warn adult children about the changes their elder parents will go through, but I wouldn't have read it and it wouldn't have mattered a whole heck of a lot - then.

Now, well, now is now.. and now we live in the moment , for the moment, celebrating each precious moment.

It still stinks.  Sucks actually.  (I hate that term.  But dang is it appropriate)

Dad.  Dad is so amazing.  I watch him love her and snuggle her and hold hands with her.  I watch them smooch - her with her lips scrunched up to her nose (so "sexy" haha) and him, giggling all the way in for the peck, touching -oh-so-familiar, now wrinkled lips like he has a million times before.  Now they kiss with a tenderness reserved for those who are choosing to be present in this moment, almost as if they're saying:  " we must be present in this moment.  This moment is a gift and we are going to relish it , and drink it in, and celebrate it - because you never know when..."

It makes me sick to my stomach.

Not them and their beauty.

The "you never know when". Actually, only initially -  Being faced with mortality - their mortality has awakened me to a new day. I battle between celebrating the present and dreading the future.  The future without them in it.

I KNOW they will be in a "better place".  Oh yeah!!

But I know the "crowns of glory" that I love to observe - daily, will be oh, so missed.  So very missed.

I want my grandbaby to see the smooches between them and groan and say "gross" and smile inside at how cool it is to know them.

I want my sons to hear all the stories another 10 times - and know that they have become part of the next generation of love...

But the reality is, I've spent too much time on this blog - time that would be better spent giggling at Mom's wacky sense of humor and listening to Dad's "this is so funny I can barely get it out without laughing my own hiney off"  jokes!

So for now this "new" mom is MY mom - I love her and all her facets, new and older... she's cool!

Wonder what's made her giggle today?