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Showing posts from July, 2013

Life Lessons

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It's been two weeks since I got the news my friend Laura has cancer - lymphoma to be exact. In those weeks she's undergone several tests, had her lungs repeatedly drained of excess fluid, had her first chemo treatment, and if that isn't enough,  developed a blood clot in her shoulder.  Laura lives in VA and I'm in FL. If you have read enough of my blog to know anything about me, you know I've been pacing the floor, fearing the worst, wanting to help and holding myself back ftom making the 9 hour drive to see for myself how things are going. I sincerely care about what's happening to Laura and her family. Even though 13 years have passed since I answered when a little one called me Mo, Mar Mar, or Cherry, I still feel like part of their family. Someone else with a little distance might say my motives are egocentric. And I admit, I do sometimes have a bit of a Jesus complex. I forget that my super powers are limited to deep caring. For real, sustained healing th

My Friend Amy

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I can't believe it's been a week since I've posted anything. If you could see into my brain, you'd see all kinds of blog posts floating around, vying for my attention, waiting to be written.  I watched a Martha Beck coaching video recently.  She explained the difference between what she calls her essential self (who she is at her core)  and her social self (who she needs to be in the world to accomplish anything).  Because her essential self has all kinds of issues like ADD and caffeine addiction her social self needs to make deals with her essential self to get things done.  Lately my essential self feels like it's addicted to speed. I know you wouldn't think it to look at the neaer comatose body sitting in the chair watching old black and white moves, but my mind is racing with things I'd like to write about. I don't seem to be able to corral those thoughts long enough to get them on paper - or in the computer, as the case may be. Heavy topics such a

God by any other name is still God

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On Friday evening Sweetie and I attended a traditional Shabbat dinner with my new employers.   Strangers to the group, neither of us knew what to expect. I felt sure, however, we would be welcomed like family because that's the way I felt from the first time I met the K's. Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath, begins a few minutes before sundown on Friday. In Hebrew Shabbat means "resting"symbolizing how God rested after creating the world. Observing Shabbat is mandated for Jews in all parts of the world. "We have remained true to the Shabbat in every place, culture and circumstance of our 4,000-year history has visited -- from the glorious days to the blackest of night." Something that's lasted for 4000 years has got to have the backing of the Divine One, don't you think? It's been so long since I've attended a social function, and forever since I've gone to dinner with people I don't know. Yet when L asked us to join them, I felt a sti

Reminicing

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When I was growing up, I believed my mother was the driving force of our family. The home was her domain. She washed and cooked and ironed and made beds, and mopped floors. She got kids up for school and drove them to doctor appointments. She pincurled her hair, changed her clothes and put on lipstick before my Dad got home from work.   She disciplined with a rubber flip flop, nursed us when were sick and made sure we got to church on time.  My mom knitted sweaters, crocheted afghans, and taught me how to sew. When storms blew twigs and branches across the yard, mom was the first one out there to pick them up. When we were little girls and needed naps, we lay on mom's bed with her while she read stories. Mom liked to watch golf and tennis on TV. She cheered for her favorite football team, win or lose. She was watching (maybe listening) a boxing match when she went into labor with me. There were two things I wanted to be when I grew up. Just like my mom. And nothing like my mom. I

Rambling

Today I noticed how frail my friend, Mary, has gotten. She fell again over the weekend. I'm afraid all the progress she made might be for naught. And I've noticed how I'm carrying around a kind of ache inside. It seems like the rest of the world is talking about racial profiling and justice for all. All I can think about is the plight of old people. Maybe plight is too strong a word. But I can't forget thinking the things I saw in the care facility where Mary stayed for 7 weeks. And I think about the number of people in my age bracket who are becoming caregivers. I found taking care of your parents is like having your first child. One day you're only responsible for yourself. Then the next thing you know the care and feeding of another human being lies firmly on your shoulders. There is no instruction manual. It's on the job training. It makes you scream. It makes you want to pull your hair out. And it makes you cry yourself to sleep at night. Dr

Another Dad Dream

Great Lakes The faded memories of my past - partial recognition New places - figments of a wild imagination "Take me home," he said. "Where is home?" I asked, thinking heaven had to be about as "home" as anyone can get. "Tennessee," he said. I notice when I have dreams about my father, they are often a combination of known and unknown. And I always wake up feeling heavy with sadness. "What do you feel sad about?" asked Sweetie. I can't say, it's more of a weight than an emotion. Melancholy Merry

Snug as a Bug in a Rug

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Today I noticed how quickly Sweet Caroline has progressed from barely moving  to  Rollover Queen

Easter in July

I've found a new blog that has lit a fire under my spiritual self. You know that commercial where a woman hits herself in the head and says, "I could have had a V-8?" That's how I felt after reading yesterday's post about waiting. “To create newness you have to cover the soul and let grace rise. You must come to the place where there’s nothing to do but brood, as God brooded over the deep, and pray and be still and trust that the holiness that ferments the galaxies is working in you too. Only wait.   And somehow the transformation you knew would never come, that impossible plumping of fresh life and revelation, does come. It manifests itself in unseen slowness. So it would happen to me and so it will happen to all who set out to knead their pain and wounds, their hopes and hungers, into bread. Waiting is the yeasting of the human soul.”  Sue Monk Kidd,  When The Heart Waits "Waiting is the yeasting of the human soul." OMG, I love that line. 

The Power of Laughter

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  "Laughter is America's most important export." Walt Disney Today I noticed that Sweet Caroline has almost mastered rolling over. It would be hard not to notice. Every time she made it to her stomach, she let loose with another new achievement - a really happy sound, somewhere between a squeal and a screech. It's not a full on laugh, but an expression of contentment that only a baby can make. In an article by Maria Shriver she wrote: "Go out of your way to laugh today. Try to laugh everyday and surround yourself with people who make you laugh. That has made all the difference in my life." Maybe that's why working with babies has me feeling so good lately. Babies make me laugh.  [ http://mariashriver.com ] In the same newsletter, I read an article by a woman whose mother resides in a nursing home (I've noticed that nursing homes are becoming recurring theme on this blog) and suffering from depression. Until "a very talented art teach

Independence Day

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It is fitting that my friend Mary was released from what I refer to as the "care facility from hell" today, July 4. In fact she managed to her escape before her release papers were signed. Talk about freedom. Just as her son got her settled in her favorite chair, the phone started ringing. There was no way he was going to get her back in the car to sign a paper or two. I wonder if the ink was dry on the Declaration of Independence before our forefathers and mothers realized there was way more to being independent that just wanting it so. Poor Mary, was second-guessing her leaving before the morning was over.  Home sounded pretty good when she was living in an area the size of a twin bed. The reality of home is having to walk side ways to get into the bathroom,  having trouble getting out of the chair she normally sits in, getting even a small meal or cup of coffee from one place to another while using a walker, being even more alone than when she was in purgatory, admitting

Hanging Out

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While waiting for my deposit to be processed, I noticed this little guy. He must have been waiting too, because he just hung out while I reached for my camera, then said, "cheese!" as I took the picture. 

Bad Dreams & Memories

Old boyfriends. Money. Not enough money. Rearranging the house. No plants in the backyard. Dad. Sister Jo. High school. All mixed up together in one creepy dream. Today feels like one of those summer days I spent as a child at Grammy's camp, when the skies were gray, and rain drizzled through the trees, steamy mist hovering over the lake. There were only two things to do while waiting for the rain to stop. Both took place on the screened in porch with it's view of the lake. I could sit at the card table and attempt to beat Grammy at Scrabble (a fruitless endeavor even for adults - a kid had no chance and Grammy gave no breaks for age, lack of vocabulary, or crappy letter choice) or lay on the cot behind the curtain with a book, too good to put down, except when my eyes closed and the book fell to my chest. I'd doze for awhile, then wake up, check the weather, and start reading again. Today, I'm noticing how much I miss being a child on vacation, when the gr

Why?

This morning I noticed that running a few minutes behind schedule on the way to to the car, Caroline's big brother, David, spied a snail as he took each step in similarly snail-like slooooow motion. It's been raining a lot and the snails are loving it. I think. Maybe not. Maybe snails are on the sidewalks because they're trying to dry off. Regardless, David watched as the snail stretched out his gooey body, then pulled his rear up into his shell with only his head and antennae poking out. "Why did he curl up?" David asked in little boy fashion. "I don't know," replied his mom, piling lunch boxes and tote bags into the car, along with beloved bear, fox and monkey. "Maybe he didn't like all the noise." "Why?" asked David. "Come on, let's get in the car." "Why?" "Because." With each why David took another step closer to the car, but kept his eyes on the snail, who was doing his best &quo