Embrace The Suck

"If you do follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while waiting for you, and the life you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and they open the doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be. If you follow your bliss, doors will open for you that wouldn't have opened for anyone else." ~ Joseph Campbell This was the quote of the day from Gratefulness.org. It seemed to strike a chord with me. Yet, to be honest, I'm not sure what "bliss" is exactly. The dictionary says it is "supreme happiness, utter joy or contentment, the joy of heaven." I think, however, it's become kind of a new age catch-all term like "paradigm shift." What, may I ask is a paradigm? So I ask what is my bliss? How do I find out? And then how do I ...

“ Happy are those who sing with all their heart, from the bottoms of their hearts. To find joy in the sky, the trees, the flowers. There are always flowers for those who want to see them.” Henri Matisse Some people on the north side of town saw a few snow flakes falling a couple days ago. All I've seen are the sad and droopy, i.e. frozen, bushes in our yard. I shouldn't complain because lots of people know the real meaning of cold when all I no is the wimpy, whiny version. When I look at trains and planes and automobiles stuck in snowbanks I've got to admit the seat between Dad's bed and his fake fireplace heater is something I don't dare complain about. There is something pristine, almost sacred, about newly fallen snow. It gives a kind of glistening luster to most everything it touches. In my book, however, the icy beauty diminishes proportionately as the snow banks grow higher. Like the time we lived in Patuxent River, MD. My then husband was attached to a t...

I'm dealing with some really heavy stuff. Dad is declining but not dying as fast as he'd like or as gently as I'd like. He has been agitated and mean, repentant and hostile. Not just to me but to my Sweetie, my sister and any representative of Hospice that dares to step into his room. I would like to be writing about it. Mainly I'm just too tired living it. I'll probably forget the details yet I wonder if I'll ever forget the pain. I've thought of starting a whole new blog to record the events. Two blog feels redundant! So anyway, I traveled around Blog World today, reading and looking at pictures. I found the picture above over at Bedlam Farm. Jon Katz takes really cool pictures. If you haven't seen them go visit his blog and take a look. I don't know much about donkeys but I love the gentleness that shines in their eyes. I guess there is a big difference between donkey's and jack asses. There is a certain someone for whom I care who is showing ...

[In front of the Gingerbread Pirate Ship in the lobby of the Ritz Carlton] "I don't see much sense in that," said Rabbit. "No," said Pooh, humbly, " there isn't. But there was going to be when I began it. It's just that something happened to it along the way." The train of my life is on the fast track and I have lost all control. There is a little bit of this done, and a little of that, but nothing feels very festive, let alone holy. In years past, I've been depressed at this time of year; one of many, I'm sure. This year I just feel discombobulated, unable to prioritize any of the many tasks. Well, that's not exactly true, of course my father is the #1 priority. He goes up and down physically, stays down emotionally. Last night I was so mad at him for things he was saying that seemed just downright mean, that I was ready to throw in the proverbial towel. An hour or so later, he was shivering so badly he could barely stand with me o...

"A new baby is like the beginning of all things - Wonder, hope, a dream of possibilities." "Edna J. Le Shan" Robert Warner "Bobby"Estrada Born: December 16th at 11:28pm, 8 lbs, 10 oz... Early and perfect! Proud Parents: My cousin Melanie and her husband, Bob Proud Grammy: My Aunt Letty Welcome, Bobby, may your world be full of love, joy, wonder and peace. May the Creator of all things watch over you and keep you safe. Smiling a big ol' smile, Merry ME

(WARNING: This could take awhile!) 5:00 am Dad calls. I am startled from a deep sleep. Go to his bedside. He's sitting on the pot. "I need a pain pill." Ok. What's going on? I'm sleeping. Okay, go back to bed. But at 10:00 I want breakfast - crispy bacon, two fried eggs, English muffin, juice and coffee. Ok. 6:00 am. Dad calls. What's going on? I'm sleeping. I want breakfast at 10 am. 10:04 am. I am dreaming that my father has fallen off the toilet and everything in the room is on top of him. Dad calls. What's going on? I'm sleeping. Didn't I ask for breakfast? Yes. Are we going to see the gingerbread houses today? Yes. Well let's get moving. Enough said. My sister and I swing into action. She starts the bacon. I help Dad get dressed. The man who called his family to sit around his bed yesterday to watch him die is alive and well today. He is dressed, shaved and raring to go in 23 minutes. Noonish. Dad is still eating breakfast. Hey, Dad ar...

Every time I come to the blogosphere, I stare at the Reindeer Girl who graces my blog. She looks so darn innocent. I just want to put my arms around her and hug her. I'm torn between telling her to "run, baby, run and don't look back" and "hang on, for the ride of your life." I know where the picture was taken, but I don't remember much of that girl's life back then. Her little sister was due to be born - her world about to change! No longer the baby, she was going to have to give up the title and pass it on down the line. She was going to have to fight for attention with three sisters, not 2. She was never much of a fighter, so she is going to have to kick up her cuteness a notch or two! When I look at that Christmas tree I see several of the ornaments that used to make me say, "ahh" when the tattered, Kleenex they were wrapped in came off. There was glittery snow on them that sparkled in the light. Those ornaments, like so much of the pas...

"The children were nestled all snug in their beds "..... Under a pile of warm handmade quilts. It's been pretty darn cold here in the sunny south. They weren't kidding when they said an Arctic air mass was heading our way. The last two mornings the temps have been in the teens. My son, Jacksonville Johnny, who recently got a roofing job, heads out while it's still dark and spends the day on ice covered roofs with his hands in clogged and dirty gutters. The man is my new idol. There's nothing I like better than waking up, getting a sneak peak of the outside weather then crawling back under the covers and pulling them up to nose. Cold weather makes me think of quilts. Old quilts or new quilts. Handmade quilts or store bought quilts. Heirloom quilts or Made in China quilts. Pieced quilts or scrappy quilts. Quilts just make me happy. Here are a couple of quilts I made recently. Sophia's Quilt is made out of pillow cases she received while at the Children...

Guess who was on the radio this morning? My writing coach/friend Carol O'Dell was filling in for her friend as host a local show on caregiving. She asked if she could interview me. ME?????? I think being on the radio is probably one of those things one can't say no to. Well, you can, but probably shouldn't. How many times do you get to be heard, and don't have to worry about a TV camera adding pounds to your already pound covered body. Perhaps if anyone else had asked I might have hesitated. But I really, really trust Carol. I trust that she wouldn't ask me to say anything I didn't want to say. She leads with a very gentle nudge that makes it feel like what you're about to do isn't new at all, but something you've been doing your whole life. So there I was this morning on WBOB radio! Carol asked questions about being a caregiver and had me read portions of a new essay I've written. The hour was split up with commercial segments so the time went p...

I'm feeling anything but Merry today. My eyes, like the overcast sky, are beginning to leak. Why so sad? It's hard to put into words. I got a message today, via caringbridge.org a friend from the "good old days" has died. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer just four short months ago. Along with looking for the best course of treatment he signed on to caring bridge which is way of journaling and getting notes from people. Reading his guestbook was like being transported back in time twenty years. I won't say that those were the best of times, but with the benefit of hindsight I realize they were also not the worst. Sure there were long deployments, overflowing toilets, and divorces. There was also a camaraderie born out of shared joys and trials. The helicopter band of brothers were a formidable group who played as hard as they worked. They were Naval Aviators which was, in their minds at least, only a few steps down the chain of command from God - there wasn...

I'd be the first one to say that TV and print journalists use the negative rather than the positive to grab you and pull you in, thus increasing their following. I don't know why we as a society have bought into that thinking but apparently we have. The the nastier, the better. Basically, the only reason I still look at the paper is for the coupons and crossword puzzle. I seem to have taken up where my father left off where puzzles are concerned. That said, I just scanned the Jacksonville on-line headlines and read something that hit my heart hard. It would be awful to hear any time of year, but at the holidays it feels like a triple axel gone seriously wrong in my gut. In a nutshell, a family was traveling home from NC. It was late at night. A tire blew. Five people were killed and 4 children injured. Now here's the kicker - " Only two of the nine occupants were wearing seat belts and several victims were ejected." I remember when cars didn't have seat belt...

Music produces a kind of pleasure that human nature cannot do without.” Confucius Christmas came early for Sweetie and I in the form of two tickets to see/hear the symphony again. This time the music was Handel's Messiah and I must say it was quite delightful. Many thanks to one of the ladies in my writing group who just happens to sing in the choir and just happened to have two tickets she wasn't going to use. The music was great. Being in the company of my Sweetie even greater. But I think the best part of the night was being away from home for 3 hours and not once thinking about what was happening in my absence. Once I sat down in my seat (where, by the way, it felt like we could reach out and play a few notes on the kettle drum) and turned off my phone I also turned off my caregiver mode. It really is great to get away from the madding crowd and let my body, mind and spirit relax. It's also good for Dad to spend time with his other daughters. It was definitely a win...

Dawn Eggenberger* Over at Dani's blog this morning she asked the question, would we even notice the mother of the Christ Child if we crossed paths with her today? Piggybacking on that, I can't help but wonder would our heart's "inn" be too full of commercialized merriment to recognize a purple haired girl, covered in tattoos, and perhaps wearing a nose ring, as the Madonna? In addition to trying to get ready for Christmas, I'm also planning for our church's 5th baby shower to collect gifts for needy moms and babies. The idea was born after thinking about that 14 year old girl who was chosen by the Divine One to give birth to the Savior of all mankind. Unlike Princess Diana who was hand picked to be the mother of the future King of England and followed from day one by a montage of photo-crazed papparazzi, Mary and Joseph journeyed alone to a place far from home and family to deliver their baby in a stable. Sure they was surrounded, as the story goes, by ...

This doesn't have anything to do with a countdown to Christmas, but could be filed under the waiting category. In the last few days, my father has gotten visibly weaker. His legs don't hold him up. Even his voice sounds tired. However, to his great dismay, the hospice nurse says he has not yet made it to the actual "dying" process. I guess that means that his body is not working at peak performance, but it still gets the job done. Philosophical discussions about holding on or letting go are not met with much interest or enthusiasm. Basically it comes down to God's timing. Until that comes we all have to wait. Around 5 am Dad called me into his room. He needed to be cleaned up, the sheets changed, etc. Once that was done he asked me not to leave him. He felt "tight" and didn't want to be alone. I crawled up on the bed with him, keeping my hand on his chest so I could feel it moving. I didn't know what "tight" meant. It wasn't going...

I remember when I was a little kid and the Sears Wish Book would arrive filled with just about everything I could desire in a lifetime, let alone one holiday season. For me, that catalog ushered in the season of waiting in a more defined but less holy way than any Advent wreath or calendar. In my family there were five of us plus my mother, aka Santa's helper, who cried dibs on the Wish Book. I was the third or fourth in line before I could even get my hands on it. Oh, but after the wait, the page turning and the dreaming was that much more exciting. I skipped right over the underwear and tool sections, and went straight to the baby dolls, Easy Bake ovens and velvet holiday dresses. I savored each page so I wouldn't miss anything. After the page turning and list making the real waiting began. Counting the days til Christmas was an exercise in patience in a world that hadn't yet invented the terms instant gratification or no payments til July. Today, with prize-filled Happy...

Objective? Who am I kidding. The problem of saying goodbye to someone you love is that a gaping hole is left where that one used to reside. Not just in your heart, but in every room in your house, in the car, in the back yard. I've heard that amputees can still feel their missing limb. It's been eight years since my mother passed away and there are still times I feel her presence every bit as real as if she were sitting on the stool across the room from me watching The Price is Right. Today there was no need to get up and open the back door. No need to mess with the dog food. No one standing at my feet hoping for a morsel of turkey as I clean the bones for soup. No collar rattling. No dog to trip over in the dark hallway. No poo on the rug. (Well, okay, this is probably not something I'm going to miss.) I don't know much about physics. Who am I kidding? I know nothing about physics. But isn't it some Newtonian law that a space will fill itself up - that a vacuum d...

"Grieving is a very necessary process." Andrew, Touched by an Angel I'm beginning to feel a bit like the Angel of Death. Not a dark and scary angel. More like Andrew from the TV show Touched by an Angel. You always knew someone was getting close to dying when Andrew appeared in the scene wearing his all white suit. Even though you knew the goodbye was going to happen and you'd probably need a couple of tissues, there was something comforting about watching Andrew lead the dying one across to the great unknown. At one point in my life, because I'd never experienced the actual death of a loved one - you know, actually seeing the lifeless body - I was really scared of being in the room when it happened. In the way (S)He does, God put me in the right place at the right time so that I'd have practice before I was called on to sit by my mother's death bed. Each and every time has been anything but scary. In the last few years I've also been present when som...

I really shouldn't be sitting here. Dad seems to be sleeping soundly so I should be doing stuff like laundry, putting away the good dishes and whatever else needs to be done. But I just don't feel like it. I'm feeling a little depressed. We're barely past a day which was set aside for giving thanks and counting our blessings and Christmas is still a month away (I know that 30 days will travel at the speed of light, but still it's not tomorrow) yet there seems to be a collective frenzy going on to get things to put under a fake tree that smells more like pine sol than fresh evergreen. I have to admit, the idea of getting up early and joining in the craziness appeals to me on a level I don't even understand. I don't get sleeping on the sidewalk for days just for a piece of electronic equipment. Yet every year, as we sit around the T-day dinner, feeling more stuffed than the bird that fed us, I kind of want to see what the madness is all about. As if I don...