Monday, November 29, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
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.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
"There are moments when I feel like giving up or giving in,
but I soon rally again and do my duty as I see it:
to keep the spark of life inside me ablaze."
"The sky is falling!" cried Chicken Little. "The sky is falling!"
Most every day the first email I read is from "gratefulness.org". The daily quotes are always uplifting and thought provoking. When I read the Hillesum quote above, my mind went to a woman Terri has blogged about who is struggling with her own personal darkness. Since Terri has had some experience with the aftermath of one extinquishing her own flame, not to mention her big ol' compassionate heart, I sent the quote on to her. My mind was on people I don't even know who are suffering in a place I've been.
It didn't really occur to me to think about my father, until I came back to check on him. He's had a few pain-filled days. New pain medication seems to be zapping him of the little bit of strength he had. This morning I found him lying in bed, eyes half-closed. I'm just waiting, he said. I could feel his struggle.
Up to now Dad has vocalized being ready to go, but I felt it was more talk than walk. It seemed like he said what was expected of him ... I have cancer, therefore I'm ready to go. I think the change has been slow coming and subtle. Pain, I imagine, can do that. As can medication. I can feel my inner chicken little fluffing up her feathers, preparing to spread the news. Dad is dying. Dad is dying. But instead I sit by the bed and hold his hand, help him to the pot, re-arrange his covers, listen to Montavoni and Henry Mancini play on the easy listening channel. Preparations for tomorrows dinner will have to wait.
I’m reminded today of the spark of light that is ignited in each of us by the Divine One at the moment of our creation in the womb. The light remains with us throughout a lifetime of joys and sorrows, blessings and disasters. The same light that at the end of our days begins to dim. Only the one who created the light knows when it will shine no more. Until then all we can do is wait. Perhaps faith is nothing more than releasing the fear of the dark and relying on the Creator to light our way.
Holy Mother/Father God, thank you for the gift of your light which you loaned to us for our earthly journey. Help us be a mirror which reflects Your light to others whose light flickers and begins to dim. Be with us at the end when we begin to take our final walk home, back to You. As we wait give us patience to accept Your perfect timing, for in You, there is no pain, no fear,no darkness.
Today my wish for you is a quiet prayer of Thanksgiving,
Friday, November 19, 2010
Can anyone see the strings attaching me to the Divine Puppeteer? I kind of feel like I've being moved about by forces I don't usually notice.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
and this time....when I asked her what she wanted for her birthday present,
she said, "I don't need anything...I have too many toys and stuff."
So...she and her Daddy went back to looking for a place to donate
and they found this website where you can raise money
$5,000 is literally enough to build an actual well...(to dig deeply enough into the African soil to reach fresh water) ....water to an entire community."
There came a time when the risk
to remain tight in the bud
was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
“One of the deep secrets of life is that
all that is really worth the doing
is what we do for others."
“We are what we repeatedly do.
Excellence, therefore, is not an act but a habit.”
"Love the moment,
and the energy of that moment
will spread beyond all boundaries."
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Once upon a time there was a girl. She came of age when the moon was in the 7th house and Jupiter aligned with Mars. Instead of wearing flowers in her hair, and protesting the Vietnam War the girl followed all the rules. She married a man who flew helicopters in the Navy and soon had babies. The girl's husband spent the war years flying anti-submarine missions from bases on the East Coast of America. Pilots stationed on the West Coast flew combat missions over SE Asia. SE Asia was a long way from the girl and her family. No one she knew was ever sent into harm’s way.
From an early age, the girl knew what it meant to be proud to be an American. She always stood when the flag passed by, and covered her heart during the National Anthem. But she was silent when men came home from an unpopular war, wounded in body and spirit, let down by the people they served. Her eyes were opened one day when she met a man her husband went to school with. The man was in the army. He took of his shirt at the beach and his chest was covered in scars. He’d served in Vietnam while her husband drank beers in Naples. For the first time she realized how lucky they’d been.
Forty years have gone by but a war still rages. This time men and women are fighting in the desert instead of the jungle. There are new kinds of weapons, computers and cell phones. “Wounded Warriors” come home to a hero's welcome. They march in parades. They are buried with military honors. Even as Americans have learned to “support their troops” many a Nam Vet sleeps on the sidewalk and continues to fight demons only other Vets can see.
One day the girl heard a woman say her son had been in the Emergency Room of a local hospital for hours, laying on a gurney in the hall, with no covers. “My son,” said the woman, "fought in Vietnam."
When the girl heard this, she knew what she had to do. It was time now, after all these years, to say what she didn’t say then. She needed to say thank you to someone she didn’t even know, for doing what his country asked of him in a time when that kind of thing wasn’t very popular.
So the girl pulled out all her red, white and blue fabric. She cut, and pinned and sewed, and stuffed until she had, not only a big mess in her dining room, but a cover for the man the next time he had to go to the hospital.
“Thank you,” said the man’s mother. “He didn’t think anyone cared.”
“Thank him,” said the girl. “I care.”
- - - -
There is no statute of limitations on gratitude. Today we honor all those who have answered their country's call to service. May I be so bold as to ask you to put your hands together and say a prayer for the safety, well-being and comfort of all the men and women who put their lives on the line to defend the freedoms this country was founded on. And don't wait, next time you see someone in uniform say "Thank You." You'll be glad you did.
Wishing for you a world at peace,