What I have Learned...

This quote came from my dear friend Carolyn, and since I am tired and dont have the energy to be original I am posting it here...enjoy.



I Have Learned...

I've learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest is up to them.

I've learned that no matter how much I care, some people just don't care back.

I've learned that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.

I've learned that it takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it.

I've learned that it's not what you have in your life but who you have in your life that counts.

I've learned that you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes. After that, you'd better know something.

I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself to the best others can do but to the best you can do.

I've learned that it's not what happens to people that's important. It's what they do about it.

I've learned that you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.

I've learned that no matter how thin you slice it, there are always two sides.

I've learned that it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.

I've learned that it's a lot easier to react than it is to think.

I've learned that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.

I've learned that you can keep going long after you think you can't.

I've learned that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

I've learned that either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I've learned that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place.

I've learned that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.

I've learned that learning to forgive takes practice.

I've learned that there are people who love you dearly, but just don't know how to show it.

I've learned that money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I've learned that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.

I've learned that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down will be the ones to help you get back up.

I've learned that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

I've learned that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

I've learned that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

I've learned that you should never tell a child their dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few things are more humiliating, and what a tragedy it would be if they believed it.

I've learned that your family won't always be there for you. It may seem funny, but people you aren't related to can take care of you and love you and teach you to trust people again. Families aren't biological.

I've learned that no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.

I've learned that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.

I've learned that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I've learned that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.

I've learned that sometimes when my friends fight, I'm forced to choose sides even when I don't want to.

I've learned that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.

I've learned that sometimes you have to put the individual ahead of their actions.

I've learned that we don't have to change friends if we understand that friends change.

I've learned that you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.

I've learned that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.
I've learned that no matter how you try to protect your children, they will eventually get hurt and you will hurt in the process.

I've learned that there are many ways of falling and staying in love. I've learned that no matter the consequences, those who are honest with themselves get farther in life.

I've learned that no matter how many friends you have, if you are their pillar you will feel lonely and lost at the times you need them most.

I've learned that your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.

I've learned that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.

I've learned that writing, as well as talking, can ease emotional pains.

I've learned that the paradigm we live in is not all that is offered to us.

I've learned that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.

I've learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon.

I've learned that although the word "love" can have many different meaning, it loses value when overly used.

I've learned that it's hard to determine where to draw the line between being nice and not hurting people's feelings and standing up for what you believe.

~ Author Unknown
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Bella Bellagio

OK, I am letting the cat out of the bag. The past two days we have been in Bellagio, an idyllic old European town on Lake Como, on the Italian side. The only problem is it is raining. And apparently I control the weather, so it hasnt been as wunderbar as it could be.

In its quaint beauty it has highlighted the difficulties and really the frailties of my mother. Frail is not a word I would have ever chosen to describe her. This is the pack mule of a strong woman who would trudge from our house in Danville to Giant, the grocery store in town and back again and think nothing of it. All my Danville friends know her well, and often would remark that they saw her walking up Kaseville Road carrying her groceries. After all, in NYC thats what you do. Shop for what you need for today (and its Biblical! Think only about today, dont worry about tomorrow, doesnt God take care of the sparrows) and nothing more.

Bellagio, in its beauty is difficult to navigate. The streets are cobblestone and narrow, shared by pedestrian and fiat alike, and you had better get out of the way, or you might find your way to an Italian community hospital, not on my top ten of must sees. And the town is perched on a hill, so the stairs are also cobblestone. It only complicates the mobility issue for my mom, not to mention the fact that most places are walk ups and we are on the third floor...so it hasnt been enjoyable for my mom at all. She has sequestered herself inside the flat, which is dreary, especially in the rain. So she is unhappy.

So we put on our sunglasses in the rain and try to shine delight.

Even in dreariness there is joy.

Peace.

Be, Embrace, Share

Once again I have been stymied in the posting picture department...

I want to share some thoughts from a comment that a friend of mind posted yesterday.
She commented about "Being oneself, Embracing oneself and then Sharing oneself."

I love those words, but more so, I love the concept of living them. Isn't that really what God has in mind? That we are created as unique individuals to fellowship with Him and serve others; we all have a purpose in this life. I believe that purpose involves sharing ourselves, the ultimate expression of community. But I also believe we share ourselves best when we share within our areas of giftedness and passion.

And that is where in my mind it ties together, but also gets messed up...the embracing oneself piece. How many of us really embrace ourselves and appreciate that we are created in the image of God, and that He loves us just the way we are? I know I had a hard time with that for a long time. Yes, really.

So to be able to really abandon the notion of "what will other people think?" if the motives are pure and the action doesn't hurt anyone is pretty cool.

What are your passions? Are you living them? Do you embrace them? Do you share them? Take a step in that direction next and see what delights follow.

Connie and I have been sharing lots of smiles with our crazy glasses...

Lost Post...

Shoot. I wrote a post last night and the darn connection blanked out, and it's not even in autosaved edits.

We stayed up pretty late really talking, like I mean, really, really talking. Sharing from the heart talking, me, Connie and my mom. We shared of ourselves, our hearts, our joys, our sorrows and our God. She has such a difficult time accepting any kind of gift, that the concept of the gift of God's love is almost unfathomable. Heck, the grace thing rather than works thing is tough for any of us...

But earlier in the day we went over to a neighboring town by boat and it was beautiful...we had a picnic on the boat of bread, cheese and then wonderful cookies...and the whole time Connie and I were wearing our flamingo and palm tree sunglasses.

We were on no schedule, even though my mom would always like to put us on one, but that's OK. She needs and does well with routine. We ambled, we laughed, we sat and had a capuccino and discussed our Diva Celebration and shared ideas about helping other women experience joy.

We continue to make people smile wherever we go. (Isn't that better than saying they are laughing at us?) And we forget we have the glasses on...and then we remember, and we smile first and it's contagious.

We found matching black outfits today that we will wear when we hit the road with Conversations with Connie and Kathy. Of course, I have to change the spelling of my name to begin with a "C"....but that's OK. Today we need to find Hot Pink accesories and we will be all set.

May you also bring delight to others. Smile first, you are guaranteed to get a smile in return!

I Did It!

I did it. I got my nose pierced today. I know, not exactly what I had planned, but let's just say spontaneity got the best of me.

My camera died (that is a crisis) so I had to replace it. So after I did that, agreeing to share it with Nicole, we got a bag to put it in. Well, once again, I admired someone else's nose ring. Where we are, it seems EVERYONE has one. So I asked where she had it done, and she remarkded offhandedly, "oh just down the street." Connie and my mom said virtually simultaneously, "oh you should have it done here." Nicole kind of scowled, but they were in agreement, so I thought, why not...what the heck, my dad would say "go fot it" so I went for it.

Finding the place was another story...we had to ask about ten different peoeple, but finally we found it. A streetside vendor. And there I sat, perched on a stool with my pink hat with my wonderful flamingo and palm tree sunglasses...what a sight.

As a matter of fact, earlier in the day when we were out and Connie had her sunglasses on a group of tourists stood between us one by one to have a unique phot op. It was hilarious. "My turn" until all four of them were flanked by two middle aged American women with flamingo and palm tree sunglasses. Oh my.

But the way we see it, we are spreading delight.

May you also be a delight spreader today.

A Slice of Heaven on Earth

One of the places we spent time at today was a slice of heaven on earth. There was an old, old church and we stepped inside the sanctuary. I almost felt like St. Francis was there...

It was beautiful. And peaceful. And my mom said she felt my dad's spirit there. I want to bottle that feeling of peace for her...and somehow let her know that she can have that peaceful feeling with her always wherever she goes through Christ's spirit. But for now, just to know that she has had that touch is a blessing.
The days seem to be getting a bit easier...but the nights are still so difficult. She is ricocheting between the first four stages of grief...but anger laced with blame seems to be the most prominent. She reminds me of a lost, scared puppy. She loved and depended on my dad far more than I realized...and has so many regrets, and regret is so difficult.

Live a life full of passion and devoid of regret. Find your purpose and fulfill it. In this you will achieve peace.

Plains, Trains, but no Automobiles...

Italy seems to be a popular destination...hmmm...but not correct, sorry. Honduras is in April, to re-write my MS. I am happy to say I did the intro and first story and found the voice the editor was looking for. That is a relief.

In the meantime, today brought a couple of trips on trains. We have relocated to warmer weather, which is lovely. Thank God Connie is along, as Friday would have been my parents 57th wedding anniversary. My mom is so sad and lonely...and distractions abound. So please continue to pray that the distractions quickly go away.

We are in a beautiful spot overlooking a lake with palm trees and just gorgeous blue skies...I think tomorrow may include a boat ride. We started the day at a phenomenal playground with incredible vistas and a seesaw that Nicole became totally enamored with. My thighs are beginning to scream at me now...more of a work out than squats...we found a cute little pizza place and just relaxed over a leisurely dinner, until memories started to overtake my mom and all we had was a dirty napkin for her to wipe her tears away with. She just misses my dad so much and doesn't have a spiritual anchor. Connie is so gifted with words to express the hope and belief that she (and I)have about where my dad is and the connection between us even though he isn't here physically with us.

There were fireworks over the lake at supper time...and they were beautiful, but only three and Connie spoke with such gentle caring and love about how she felt they were special greetings from my dad for just the three of us, me,my mom and Nicole. Just beautiful, and so reassuring to me.

I know my dad would love to be here with us in body, but I know he is in spirit.

Peace.

We'll Fly Away...

I'm a little bit punchy, after flying away and all, but after 36 hours am feeling better.

We arrived at our undisclosed destination yesterday, my mother, Connie, Nicole and myself. OK, for those of you who DON'T know where I am I will give a free copy of my Soccer Moms Devotions to Go to the first person who accurately guesses...comment away!

Our flight was uneventful (which is always good) and empty besides! So Connie and I both stretched out across the three middle seats...and took our Ambien and S-L-E-P-T. The wonderful flight attendent was sympathetic to my recent life experiences and gave us gratis red wine.

It never daunts me arriving in a new place; I guess that is one of the many gifts my dad gave me. A spirit of adventure and being undaunted by new situations. I am not one to ring my hands and moan in despair. So the fact that we didn't know where the youth hostel was was simply an annoyance, nothing more. Needless to say, we found it, and once we got there, no problemo, we were off and running. And despite being pretty tired, found our way around the city with absolutely no difficulty. Language was not a problem...and we made our way from the hostel into town and then down to the lake. There were swans and the reflection of the sun off the water was like shimmering diamonds. Beautiful.

We had a day long pass for transportation and went to a beautiful location above the city where the views were absolutely panoramic...we stopped and had a snack, which was a bit of a problem because we did lose our momentum and looked like we were going to lose Nicole, but then we all got anotehr wind. There was a great playground and Nicole had a ball while Connie and I walked a little bit more to take in more of the view. God's presence was undeniable.

I am so happy Connie is along. I am concenred for my mom; this is very, very hard for her. But our goal is to make her laugh and smile over the next few days. Please pray we are successful...

Peace.

My Pink Hair...

For as difficult and sad as yesterday was, today was fun. Busy, but fun.
I had a hair appointment, and I know Crystal just loves to do my hair because I go in with a "whatever" attitude. I let her basically do whatever she wants, with very little guidance. Today I told her I didn't feel like being blond anymore and wanted her color, which is more of an auburn. But I also wanted pink, and I knew she had it. Carolyn recently had purple strands (they are real hair and clip in) put in, and I just loved it. My dad would have too. So I told Crystal I wanted pink.

Then, I have to admit I got a bit carried away. I knew Nicole had her eyes and heart set on the blue strands, and has actually tried to dye her hair blue numerous times, without much success. After all, what can you do with red hair? It just ends up looking like mud...so I asked if there were any appointments this afternoon for a trim and lo and behold there was one for 2:30 and I retrieved her from school.Poor thing. She thought the appointment I had scheduled for her was either for a shot or with the counselor. When I told her it was for a trim and a strand of blue hair you might have thought the kid won the equivalent of the lottery. Yes, perhaps I have lost my mind. I want to get a little diamond stud in my nose too. Of course Tianna is mortified and her friends think I'm pretty cool. But here's the thing; it's not about them, it's about finally being really true to the free spirit that I am. I embrace my creative, fun loving, encouraging, people oriented self and recognize that those are gifts I received from my dad. Did you know we have the same birthday? So rather than repress the desires and tendencies, I am allowing them to be expressed. And today it looked like pink hair. (Please go visit Extreme Diva Media...she is my hero!)

Later this spring sometime it will look like a diamond stud in my nose. It may look like not caring how many dust balls are wafting around my house and missing Tino's fur all over the place. It may look like issuing an unabashed challenge to either one of my sons in areas in which they struggle.

And it will always acknowledge that without my faith I would be deep in sinking sand.

Peace for your journey, may you express yourself in the way that God has created and gifted you.

Natasha Richardson

Another loss. Another grieving family. More questions. Why? How? How could someone be lucid and conscious and then sink into unresponsiveness and die? We asked those same questions...

As I read Natasha Richardson's story, too much of it rang true to me. I extend my heart to this family, who has the further complication of being celebrities, which means they will be nagged, followed and not able to grieve privately. At least my grief can come and go in waves and the only person writing about it is me, not the hound dog press...that is another one of those invasions that just seems, well, so wrong. And believe me, death invites vulchers.

Reading between the lines it sounds like she had the same kind of head injury as my dad; so pointless, so senseless, and a freak accident. But hers is even more freakish than my dad's...how can one fall on a beginner slope and get up and be fine and then be dead just a few days later? I can't tell you how many people have said to me, "But I just say your dad, spoke to him, laughed with him the day before (or any variation thereof up to about three weeks before)." Both people so talented and full of life, leaving family behind. Such loss, such tragedy.

Yet through it all light can still shine.

Continue to love and live passionately. These are choices. Let us choose the way of life.

Chossing to Serve...

I get a great devotional emailed to my in-box daily written by Jon Walker. It is titled, "Grace Creates" and he writes in a way that I get it. I am able to understand the application of God's word to my life.

Notice I said "application" - it doesn't mean it is a cure all panacea, but it is a sustaining truth and thought that keep me going, give me strength and often help re-shape my heart, tongue (I hope!) and actions. So the last sentence grabbed me fr om this morning's devotional:

From today's Grace Creates Devo: So be eager to serve. Pay attention to those around you so you can become sensitive to their needs. “Each one of us needs to look after the good of the people around us, asking ourselves, ‘How can I help?’” (Romans 15:2 MSG).

There is something cathartic about helping others. It is healing. But if we get so stuck in our own pain (or whatever) we can't see or respond to the needs of others. I love being aware of what would encourage others...it brings me joy and delight (and will also delight God). It goes along with my thoughts related to what a different place the world would be if we just became a bit more aware and went out of our way to bless someone else, the way the United agent blessed me by returning my book (and I still haven't written the thank you note, that's next!).

I have to admit, that all sounds great, but I have a problem with this. I seem to be much better able to do this with others, even complete strangers than with members of my own family. Matt is (IMHO) lollygagging about looking for the easiest way to make a buck...researching online survey taking offers...this makes me bristle, so where is my love? Or my bewilderment at how to support my mom during her frequent spells of sadness that are so laced with anger that I just don't know what to do...so I hug her.

Last night she started to cry again, saying, "I miss dad so much...I just want to hug him, I will never hug him again..." so I did what I could and gave her a hug...but I seem to be stuck in reactive mode with my family, rather than being sensitive to or searching for ways to serve ahead of time...one of my challenges, I suppose. I know I know how to be an encouraging servant, I just need to broaden my audience!

Anyway, today brings stuff to do, and lots of it...a desperately needed haircut (and color) for me I think I will have her do an auburn...I am getting tired of blond...and then schlepping out to Mifflinburg to deliver my mom's parakeets to a friend to babysit them while we are away. Can't depend on Howie or Tianna to feed the birds...the rest of our menagerie will present enough issues for them...and a story re-work in addition to delivering many of the remaining left over girl scout cookies...a bit of normalcy in the chaos that has been hurled my way.

Through this all I am carried; and I will serve.

Blessings to you this day.

A Day in the CIty...

I have to admit there is one thing that really drives me crazy. Crazy. And I experienced it first hand yesterday when I drove into NYC.

I absolutely despise it when there is a "lane closed ahead" sign notifying all the drivers of which lane is going to be closed (in my case the left lane) and cars go zipping by and then nose their way in instead of merging politely (sorry, that word seems to have disappeared from every one's vocabulary...) into the remaining open lanes. I HATE this. But of course then not letting these (IMHO) idiot drivers in in front of you can cause the next accident that will hold up traffic even more. I straddled a couple of lanes for a little bit, but they STILL passed me, practically driving into the road divider...

The apartment is beginning to look decent...roomier after taking much of my mom's stuff out. But the progress is SLOW.

I returned home sad. I miss my dad, my mom is a mess and Matt loves to sleep way too much. My mom was offered a smaller apartment across the hall, but we kindly deferred, but I did ask for a new or at least old new stove. Good grief, the stove in the apartment has been there since 1962 and you could cause an inferno by having to light the oven. You practically have to stick your nose up in the pilot light from underneath to get it going...no thanks...

My friend came today to help me clean at my house here in PA. Well, actually, she did most of the work. I just kept saying "thank you."

My major accomplishment for the day was re-working my introduction to my recently submitted and deemed unacceptable manuscript...but I am being carried, and have identified the voice. So now I can write.

Peace for the journey. The Stromboli burned, so now we are trying dinner number two and American Idol comes on in fifteen minutes.

Hope Restored...

Today I received a gift...an absolutely wonderful gift that has infused my hope tank in humanity with so much hope that it is overflowing.

When I went to get my mail, there was my book. The one I left on the airplane. In hope I had left my contact information with the woman who had been my gate agent when I boarded our flight back to Scranton. She had checked on the gate and new that the aircraft wouldn't be leaving again till morning. When she finished her shift she must have gone over from the F terminal to the C terminal and retrieved my book from the seat pocket herself and sent it in the mail. I was just overwhelmed with gratitude. That such a simple thing, yet one that required effort beyond the ordinary on her part, was accomplished and meant so, so much.

That's the way it is, isn't it? It is often small things, yet things that carry such personal significance to us, that mean so much. Yet they require a bit of effort. Usually not too much, but just enough to inconvenience us, or require us to just go out of our way, putting others first. So that's one of those things that should be passed forward.

I am going to make sure United Airlines gets a note, a good kind of note, lauding her for going out of her way to return this personal and precious item for me. And then think of others who could use that little bit of encouragement or affirmation. It is these kinds of thoughts that rattle around in my head when I think about wanting to write about an inconvenient faith: from comfortable complacency (which is where so many of us are...) to contagious compassion, where if we positioned ourselves the world could and would be a better place.

Why not make the world a better place for someone else today the way Mary Hernandez did for me?

Peace.

Back in the Saddle...

I love being home. It is a total and complete mess, and for once in my life I don't care. That's one of the gems of crisis, I suppose, it really jolts the behoosies out of you and all the things you say are important really become important.

I took my mom to my wonderful counselor today; I don't think she would have gone if she hadn't come to the retreat with me (the counselor was the retreat speaker) and been able to hear her and meet her and feel her caring. It did her soul good but she doesn't seem to grasp that grief is a long process and that she has so much past bitterness and regret she is holding on to that this isn't a magic potion...one step at a time...it was almost like, "OK, I went, all done, now I will be better..." the concept that grief is an ongoing process and one that is fluid isn't sticking. I hate to ask for patience because nothing calm ever comes about when I do...but I do need lots of it...

OK, enough of that.

One of the things they had us do at the retreat this weekend was have a silent meal. I understand the principal, but let's just say it wasn't my favorite activity...but I did follow the rules...Connie and I are going to plan our Diva Days of Celebrating Friendship and we have already come to the conclusion that if there are any rules at all then they MUST be broken! Fun, fun, fun...and breaking rules...No wonder I have a tendency to get myself into trouble...

The day ahead promises to be full. A trip to NYC to take care of some things while loving those I love passionately.

Peace.

Home

I have been away the last two days at a retreat. It was restful and a blessing. The theme was, "Lord, fill my cup for such a time as this." I am living through a time in which my cup needs to be not only full, but overflowing. I know I will need much strength, but I also know where my strength comes from; and that truth prevails.

I am tired, but glad to be home. The days ahead will bring many decisions and chores. Truth prevails and triumphs. Of this I am certain.

"A good man obtains favor from the LORD, but the LORD condemns a crafty man." (Proverbs 12:2) I have received much favor, and walk in this promise.

Peace.

Time for Laughter and Joy

Thanks to Jodie for sending me this very apt quote:

"Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh."

-George Bernard Shaw

How true this is and important to remember. I intend to laugh a lot this weekend; I am going to our church's ladies retreat. I haven't attended now in a few years, even when two of my dear friends, Connie and Mary spoke. Shame on me.

But this weekend Connie is coming as a participant! And we are both going to have our flamingo and palm tree sunglasses, and I have packed tiaras and pink glitter besides. My friend Katy was also going to join us (we'll miss you!) but family beckoned. As it should. I am shifting my life in huge ways to reflect the priority of relationships. So my mom is going to take her spot. I hope she can laugh a bit also...

So I am virtually certain there won't be Internet. But you know I will try!

May God smile on you and join you in laughter.

Home to Reality

We arrived home very late last night...really more like the wee hours of the morning. I felt the oppression of everything ahead just closing in on me...sorting, thinking, planning, loving, and grieving amidst logistics that overwhelm. And a mother who is so sad.

She keeps saying she just wants to die. And I just keep wanting to give her a glimmer of hope. I was reading the glimpses of heaven book on our first flight...and left it in the seat pocket of my seat. I felt lost and overtaken by grief...over leaving that book behind. Tianna's heat winner ribbon from championships was the bookmark...it is like the book was the symbol of all the compounded losses of the past month, some of which I can't even speak about...

But the one highlight of our trip home yesterday was that our first flight was oversold and Nicole and I were able to volunteer our seats and still easily make our connecting flight, so now we have flight vouchers to boot. Count it a successful trip...

My mother was waiting up for me but had dozed off and I startled her when I came in. She has been crying every night...I am witnessing a real love and tenderness that was too hidden when my parents were alive together, all too often pursuing separate interests. How can I help her feel hope? Healing? I know she misses my dad; I miss him too.

I so appreciate my friends who recognize the hole that exists in my life. It is never wrong to acknowledge or send a card, give a hug. Those things make all the difference in the world.

Peace for the struggles and the journey.

One Step at a Time

Today Nicole and I will try to go home again...I am more than ready in some ways, but in others would rather stay and play. But life is what it is and what we make of it, so my aim is to live and love fully. Just at a pace that allows this to happen, which is one step at a time.

Travelling at this pace also allows one to notice and respond to fellow journeyers.

One such journeyer was a woman we met while enjoying the hotel's wine hour. She has lost both her parents, in fact both many years ago. Her affirmation of my loss was beautiful and meaningful. She understood. We spoke, held hands and allowed tears to flow. Such moments in life are to be appreciated and savored.

As I step through the next several weeks and months, support for what I will be faced with is coveted. Prayers mean everything. I am certain there will be obstacles; more on that later. Suffice it to say that when selfishness replaces service and servitude **** happens...but truth prevails. Always. In God's time.

My thoughts? Allow yourself to be carried, take only one step at a time, and as you give up the reigns of control watch wonderful things happen. Things you could never imagine...

Peace.

Jags of Sadness

The past twenty four hours I have been really up and down. I miss my dad a lot. I am in a city where there is so much he would enjoy and where we could really have fun together.

But there are reminders of life's fragility all around, especially in the faces of homelessness that abound in this city. There are many.

Some are young. Some old. Some have animals. I have stopped to talk to a pair with a dog, Buddy, a couple of times. I shared some food with them, and they were truly appreciative. The first time I stopped, there was a third guy with them. We spoke about God and love, and one of them pulled out a Bible and started talking about how he had been to a Bible Study the night before and left feeling a little better, a little more hopeful.

As we were sharing some thoughts a woman walking up the street started to scream at them, calling them ignorant and demanding they get out of her neighborhood. It just made me feel so sad. How human beings can treat each other so badly. But I shouldn't be surprised. I have witnessed it and in fact am living through a situation right now that is the height of selfish greed.
We agreed that this woman knew not of what she spoke, and shared more about Jesus and his love for all.

I imagine it is a bit easier perhaps being alone and on the street with the unconditional love of a dog. I asked about feeding Buddy and they said that they have a ten pound bag of food in their backpack for him and he eats first. I believed them.

Then there are other homeless who reek of alcohol. Does God love them any less? Or are begging for spare change while unable to stand up straight. Or who are huddled under the eave of a building. Or are muttering to themselves, or are like the woman that Nicole and I stopped to talk to who was pushing her two cats around in a stroller and was pretty batty. In fact the more we spoke to her, the more we realized just how out of touch she was.

But don't we really all want the same thing? Connection. Love. Touch. A home. A place to call our own...and it reminds me how quickly we assume we know other's stories and make snap judgments about them. And how those judgments often dissuade us from engaging in meaningful ways with others, because of how uncomfortable it might be for us. But yet, chances are it would be huge for the other person.

I have been thinking about this a lot with the loss of my dad. There are lots of people who haven't acknowledged the loss. They don't know what to say, or don't want to bring it up. But like any loss, (miscarriage, divorce...)it isn't reminding the person of anything they aren't immersed in anyway.

In fact, I think just the opposite is true, that it demonstrates caring. And I for one, appreciate that.

Go let someone know you care.

Peace.

GraceNotes: Glimpses of Heaven

I have digressed from the accounts of grace and God's fingerprints all over the events surrounding my dad's time in the hospital. There are so many more stories to tell, and many more yet to unfold, I have a feeling, in the coming days.

So here is another touch of love and encouragement from God through the time my dad was in the hospital.

It was the third day my dad was in a coma that this story unfolded. Matt and Carolyn had just arrived at the hospital, and as Matt was walking towards my dad's room at the end of the hall he had a book in his hand. Initially I thought perhaps Carolyn had bought it because I knew she had been to the Barnes and Noble close to the apartment. I was curious about it as the title caught my eye. "Glimpses of Heaven: True Stories of Hope and peace at the End of Life's Journey" published by Revell (who I would love to write for, I might add...).

I asked Matt where the book had come from and he simply answered that a woman in the waiting room had given it to him, and then vanished. Another angel? Who was she?

I took the book and held it in both of my hands, determined to locate the woman who had given us this gift, eager to hear why. Carolyn said the woman's husband was a patient in the same unit, and that she would point her out to me when she saw her.

I didn't need to wait too long, as during one of my visit breaks Carolyn gestured to a woman walking away from the waiting room.

Not to miss my opportunity to talk to her, I ran after her, saying, "excuse me, lady in the white sweater who gave a book to my son..." at any other place I am certain I would have been labeled as a lunatic. But not here. Not now.

She turned and smiled and we talked. I asked her why, what had prompted this incredible gift. She answered that she had been on the cell phone with her daughter and saw Matt in the hallway, crying. At that moment she said the Spirit just came over her in a very powerful way, communicating to her that it wasn't her husband's time but it was time for someone in this young man's family,and the book was to be passed on for such a time as this.

Through her responding to the nudge of the Spirit we were blessed. The listening and responsive ear is such a valuable way of sharing God's love.

We talked some more, and now I am not sure where I put her contact information. I hope she reads this and comments. I want to continue to thank her for being yet another angel who ministered to us during my dad's time in the hospital.

Peace.

The Unfriendly Skies

Well, let me tell you, it was an unfriendly day in the air travel department.

Nicole and I were supposed to fly home today.

The first surprise was that we were on separate flights to Chicago leaving about three minutes apart; that is, if they were on time. So they put her on my flight standby, because her flight was delayed. We were somewhat challenged in the logistics department trying to figure out which gate to wait at. Luckily we had a kind agent at her gate who accommodated me on the flight because people were bailing right and left because of the fact that it was delayed. Due to weather in Chicago. No, not snow, thunder and lightening.

Delays, more delays and more delays and then the dreaded "C" word came up on the screen. The flight was cancelled. The line at customer service was at least 100 people deep so I opted to call the 800 number to be re booked.

I'm not sure which is worse; speaking with someone in India, or trying to be understood by the computer generated being. Neither worked out well for me.

The gentleman in India was nice enough, the only problem was that my reservation had never been changed from the first flight as I had been told it had, so I couldn't be re-booked becuase I was still showing up as checked in for an existing flight on the master grid. No amount of explaining resolved that dillemma. I shamefully admit to having become exasperated and hung up on poor Punji in India.

A weary and sympathetic, friendly in fact, fellow traveler gave me a special line for global services, but when the agent found out I wasn't the global service client, the friendly skies once again turned unfriendly. No amount of begging, telling my all too true to life sob story, or humor coaxed help out of the agent I was on the phone with. She suggested I ask for a supervisor. Great.

I decided to leave and call the airline back from the hotel, because the hold time was now up to 46 minutes...so several hours after we had left and two wasted round trips to the airport Nicole and I arrived back at the hotel where we scared Howie half to death when we came back into the room. The poor guy was in the shower...he thought the maid was coming in to clean.

When I finally did get through (to India again, this time to a Punjita)I was promptly told we couldn't be accommodated till Wednesday. So I guess we will have to play for two more days. At least we have a place to stay since Howie is staying till then. Otherwise it would have been the airport floor till then. Big sigh. I will take a bump any day. At least that way you get a free ticket.

Which isn't all bad, except that I am really tired. And sad. Missing my dad hit me today...as I am sure it will many times in the coming months.

Trick or Treat in March

Yes, you read that right. There is trick or treat going on right now in San Fransisco. Only the spoils aren't candy...

I have developed pretty strong feelings about this over the years, although I must admit that I once was quite guilty of wanting to fill my own goodie bag to overflowing. Howie's feelings haven't changed at all over the years. He always saw it for what I have to come to view it as: an unfortunate indictment of greed of the already affluent. (Yes, I know those are harsh words).

What I am talking about is the Exhibit Hall for the Convention. Rows and rows of companies line an enormous room peddling their wares and wooing spouses. Yup,no kidding. There is a day where the exhibit hall is open only to dermatologist's spouses. Of course, admittance is only by badge, and the badge costs $75. But of course far more than $75 worth of samples are hauled off after a day at the hall.

But isn't there something wrong with this picture? Some dermatologists are among the higher paid medical practitioners. That would include those who specialize in cosmetic procedures not covered by insurance companies and paid for willingly by those who can afford them to turn back the hands of time (or t hose like me who can't bear to see a vial of botox be poured down the drain...yes, guilty as charged...) and here are the spouses pushing and running to collect copious amounts of lotions, creams, salves...the entire time having had to pass at least two dozen homeless folks between their hotel and the convention center.

I Met Romeo at Ghirardelli

I have always enjoyed people watching...noticing expressions, interactions, wild outfits, colorful hair, beautiful (or outrageous) clothes, you name it, I take it all in and wonder about people's stories. I think I got that curiosity and eye for people from my dad. And now that he isn't here, I feel a heightened sense of wondering about the stories behind the stories.

It's really just a matter of taking the time to notice others and absorb details.

The other day was a day like that, full of taking just a little extra time to notice people, engage in conversation with them, ask questions, smile, make eye contact, encourage...and be encouraged.


No trip to San Fransisco would be complete without a trip to Ghirardelli. The prices for sundaes have always struck me as outrageous, and as such rubbed me a bit the wrong way, but those kinds of things never really bothered my dad. (To a fault...as much as my mom is tight, my dad was loose...well, maybe generous...) At any rate, it just seemed like the day to splurge on sundaes. In fact, Nicole ordered a banana split. I found edible nirvana in an espresso chip hot dark chocolate sundae with gobs of whipped cream, the real kind swirled on top. YUM. There was a group of older gentlemen who entered just ahead of us and were seated off to our right at the next table. It did not escape my notice that they were having FUN...just pure, unadulterated fun. Laughing, eating their hot fudge, and just having a good time.

I couldn't resist. I had to ask what their story was. And, they told me they are all ROMEO. (And old enough to be my dad...it made me miss him terribly).

Retired Old Men Eating Out. And today they chose treats involving ice cream and chocolate. Smart move. But what really struck me was the camaraderie, fun, and connection they had. For them it appeared to be all about relationship. And that is as it should be.

Peace.

I Can Still Laugh

My friend Shauna met me and Nicole for breakfast this morning. I haven't seen her in ten years. She is a derm PA and in town for the Convention. It was so good to see her and catch up... Then she got to meet my friend Connie who also happens to be in town. Too much. We had a blast.

Today was so therapeutic... I discovered I can still laugh. Yesterday Nicole and I had a great day full of adventure, shopping, and delicious ice cream, but my mood was still very reflective. I noticed people everywhere and wondered what their stories were...I will write more about them later.

For now I am really tired but just want to say I discovered today I still have laughter inside of me. I have had a wonderful break for a couple of days, and it will be back to serious business soon enough...but I saw my friend Connie today. We bought more goofy glasses, this time with palm trees and flamingos on them...and we wore them in joy as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I'm tired, so just wanted to check in. Lots of thoughts that I will share next time.

Peace.

Losing a Parent

As you know, recently I joined the club of those who have lost a parent. It is not a club any of us wants to join, but all of us will sooner or later. And many have preceded us.

Specifically I have been reflecting on those of us in the Sandwich Generation, the generation of boomers who are sandwiched between aging parents and growing children. Most of the thoughts out there on the SG deal with caring for both groups, but another layer in the sandwich (which you may recall I recently commented on wanting to be Gourmet, if you please, rather than bologna slapped between two slices of white bread...) is those of us who have lost a parent.

I am now so much more sensitive in a way I could never have been before to my friends and peers who have already established membership in this club. Until you cross that threshold you have no idea.

No idea how to respond. How to care. How to listen. How to affirm. What to say. And the cool thing is, it is OK, because those who went before didn't know either until they joined the club.

The best we can do is then be there for the next as we weren't for the ones who preceded us. I find myself asking my friends if they have lost a parent. If they have I acknowledge their pain and apologize for not being there for them. If they haven't I encourage them to love passionately and make sure they have no regrets.

Have no regrets. Love passionately. Take time.

Peace.

Goodbye Tino

Today we had to say goodbye to Tino. It was hard. So hard.

Tino was a great dog. And he had an incredibly long life. Sixteen years. Unheard of...He came home to us from the SPCA in 1995, before we had Tianna or Nicole. We named him after Tino Martinez, the baseball player when he played for Seattle. We threatened to change the dog's name when Martinez was traded to the Yankees... I took him to the vet this morning. I was so blessed that one of the vets, who is also a friend, heck, I taught their prenatal class come to think of it...came out of surgery to take care of Tino, and us today.

He took one look at him and said, "It's time. It's hard. But he is tired and ready to go." But I had promised Nicole I wouldn't let him go without her, so Tino stayed at the vet until we came back after school. It was too hard for him to get in and out of the car.

How could I be saying goodbye again? Deciding to let go? Deciding what to do with ashes...the tears came, and came. Nicole, Matt and Carolyn were with me and Tino. It was Marley revisited. But it was swift and I was assured painless. I hope so. How do they know?

My mom enjoyed Tino's company and it gave her something to do. Now he is gone too...they did an ultrasound and told us he was riddled with tumors. He also is in a better place. It sounds so cliche. We miss him, but I think my dad is waiting for him.

Jesus is carrying me. There is no other way.

Peace. Love much. It is most important that you do.

Cookie Time and Normal Life

The cookies have arrived. As if there wasn't already enough to do...now there are 300 boxes of GS cookies to distribute. That would be $1074 worth. It will give us something to do...

All joking aside; my mom needs something to do. She is not doing well. She remembers certain things really well, but then with other things she doesn't fare quite as well, and the nights are really tough. I think she will need a year's supply of Ambien.

I have asked her to please not throw anything away, but since she is in even a bigger "hog" than I am, she doesn't always comply. And the things she keeps are not valuable, whereas she went to pitch a couple of photos the other day that had quite a bit of significance to me from my childhood. I am daunted by the fact that basically every item in my parent's apartment of almost 50 years will need to pass through my hands before being trashed or treasured.

That will be my job for the foreseeable future and probably well beyond.

Thank God for my church family and friends. We haven't eaten this well, I think, ever...it is such a blessing as I float from laundry to cookie delivery, to phone call, to errand, to hug, to negotiating through the aftermath of death. There is so much to learn and the crash course isn't the way to do it. And the stories....yes, another book.

My Buddy Tino

Tino, my Marley, has taken a turn for the worse. He needs to wade through the Red Sea with me. He is old and tired. I settled in next to him, much as I just had with my dad and put my head down on his chest and gave him permission to go if he was just too dog tired to stay around any more.

I finally broke down and called the vet this morning, but I didn't want to. What if they suggest putting him down? Not now, not so soon after we had to let my dad go.

Saturday and Sunday he didn't walk, eat or drink; he couldn't go out. We had to wipe up puddles three times. So I knew I had to call.

Then when I got home this afternoon, after taking my mom to WalMart to get new glasses (she lost her other ones three days ago; has turned the house upside down looking for them and I know they will appear in a really strange place when we aren't looking anymore...) and doing other errands that have been put off) Tino wasn't in front of the door. I panicked.

But he was back in the family room looking out the window, and he got up and went out for the first time in three days.

I am going to keep the vet appointment, a little less afraid of what is to come, but still apprehensive. I know he is old and tired and I am going to have to say goodbye soon. I'm just not ready.

Being the Best Doctor: Some Advice

There is much that goes into the education of physicians. It is much more than science; it is also an art. The art of communication; the art of tenderness and love; the art of self preservation; the art of caring. And often that care extends to the patient’s family as well.

The care my dad received while he was in the hospital was excellent. I have no complaints about the technical excellence with which the neurosurgical team delicately tried to preserve his life and ability to live. Life is, or at least for my dad was so much more than being kept alive by machines.

He was an artist; to him to live was to create. It was to experience all the senses and allow them to shape how he saw things and how he expressed them through his art. If he couldn’t consciously process the world around him, that was not life. Accepting a prognosis of deep persistent vegetative state at best was in itself a death sentence. So ultimately we knew when hope of a complete and full, creative, vibrant life for him was waning, that we would step towards saying goodbye. But we would step at our own pace, not to be rushed or pushed by anyone else’s clinical assessment or matter of fact yet unemotionally communicated lack of hope.

There was one doctor on the team who had a bit to learn in the communication department. One of the neurosurgery residents, I thought perhaps the first time I spoke to him he was just totally sleep deprived and coming off of call. I asked to speak to him, and he was not able (for whatever reason) to come to the floor, so I spoke with him on the phone. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but I was not impressed. Distant, clinical and terse were words that immediately came to mind in describing his tone during our conversation.

It didn’t get any better the next time we spoke, this time in person. It bothered me. The guy lying unresponsive in the bed was my dad and my mother’s husband of almost fifty five years. Not just the guy in 12 with no hope, so get on with the process of making some decisions. He’s not coming back; accept it and let’s get on with it…

But there is a point, and that is that the family needs time to adjust to the harsh reality of imminent death. Once the person is gone, it is too late for anyone else to say goodbye.
The third time I encountered the same doctor I knew in order to be at peace with myself I needed to say something to him. He was in the room trying to elicit basic responses from my dad and didn’t acknowledge me or say goodbye on his way out. So I broke the silence and asked if there was anything he needed to say to me.

“No, no change” is all he said, while pulling off his gloves and shedding his yellow gown.

“Could I speak with you a minute?” I asked.

He nodded and I said what I felt he needed to hear in a quiet and calm voice, one that was intended to communicate concern for him as a (young doctor) who would, as a neurosurgeon, find himself in critical situations with families for the rest of his life. I told him that I had no doubt that he was a technically superb clinician. After all, if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be in the neurosurgery residency program at NY Presbyterian Hospital. But I continued and stated that I knew what residency training required, as I am married to a doctor, and that one doesn’t devote that much of one’s life to a profession and not want to be the best at it.

I continued, placing my hand on his forearm, and looked directly into his eyes. I invited him to hear what I had to say in the spirit in which it was being said; one of concern and caring for him and his future patients.

“It’s OK to look at us, make eye contact. It’s OK to touch; in fact, we yearn for tender touch in a world of machines and intervention. And we need compassion more than anything else. Compassion that acknowledges the grief, confusion and loss we feel. And I ended by telling him when he was able to incorporate those things he would be the best possible doctor he could be.
And he thanked me.
I hope he will be the best he can be.