With this Easter weekend, Christians reflect upon Christ's last supper, suffering, death and resurrection. People in the St. Louis area giving more indepth pause perhaps than in previous years. For some, we don't take this time of year to think of the great sacrifices of our Lord, but when tragedy strikes we tend to take more notice of what's around us and who might be responsible for our existence. Some of us think about it all year long. It's the core of who we are as Christians and what we believe. Some think it's the birth of Christ that is pivotal in our faith, but many prophets fortold of the coming of Christ. Easter pinpoints our reason for hope, joy and eternal happiness; knowing that eternal life is within our grasp after earthly death.
It's shocking for many who live in this tornado stricken St. Louis area that no reports of serious injury or death occurred. Here's one of those times I give thanks to God for his miracles.....this Easter miracle. I am not a scientist or even claim to have the knowledge base to say what ignites tornados other than hot and cold masses of air coming together to create turbulent wind storms we call "tornados". I am more of a believer in Christ who admits that His hand was involved in the saving of many lives this weekend. Some might think that God created these storms, while others believe in a free choice world, all happenings are possible......even death. What gives me hope is that there is the miracle of new life, eternal life.
My life has changed forever, not only with my sister's death, but with the death's of my parents. Losing each loved one to death has changed me drastically. More change at times than I want to accept, but it's not my plan; it is the plan of one greater than me. Just as those families who lost their homes this weekend, never expecting it could happen to them, I didn't think my sister would die so young. Young is a relative term, but for me young means so much life yet to be lived here on earth. At any time, death is possible, and it can happen to any of us at any time. We all know death is inevitible; yet, there is the hope of the Easter miracle to be reunited with all our loved ones again in eternal life. My words can't even begin to describe what that reunion will be like. As my family celebrated on Saturday this Easter holiday, I was pleasantly surprised by the joy I felt. Maybe a few "sips" of wine helped, but it went beyond that. For the first time since my sister's death, I was able to feel joy during a holiday gathering. Joy filled my heart as we reminisced over past stories, not only of her, but of us, too. Laughing at the simple joys of our lives gave me renewed hope. One who is grieving realizes this in our minds, but it takes a while for this to settle into our hearts and souls. This doesn't mean that grief isn't still there; it always will be. We are learning to live again.....slowly but surely.
While we take each step moving and hoping, Easter miracles happen all year long. Especially right now when tornadic weather enforces loss of tangible, emotional devastation; no lives appear to have been taken. Some people may have lost their homes, treasured photos, comfortable furniture, personal items and that leaves them in a state of utter shock; yet, miraculously they still have their families and friends intact here to celebrate and live. I don't mean to minimize what has been taken in this tragedy. I haven't experienced this myself, but I have listened to those interviewed, and while overwhelming and extremely frightening, they still give thanks for no lives being lost. I believe in Easter miracles not only today but everyday if we continue to believe and take notice. I pray for all of those people in the days ahead who will be searching in the rubble to have hope......hope for better days......hope for Easter miracles.
If the only prayer you ever say in life is "thank you," that would suffice.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
The "Quiet"
For those of us that grieve, we understand what that quiet means. It is a blessing to me when friends and family leave me in that quiet and understand. They may sense my absence of words and send emails or cards but don't expect a response. They just know as I know with them.....we are connected in spirit that way. Some of us have experienced similiar paths and different ones, too, but we just know without speaking. I appreciate those who "check in" if you will, and sometimes I respond, and other times I don't. No need to worry.....that's where I find myself.....that's where it's more clear for me.....in the quiet.....the quiet in my mind, my soul, my heart. With quiet comes clarity and for me my loved ones become more present in that quiet, those living and those in the non-living. Even in a crowd, I can feel the quiet. I have learned to tune out the noise, atleast most times. There are moments when my children talk of their day, and I give it my all to listen, and that isn't always easy, especially when I find myself at the end of my strength for the day. Sometimes a dear friend may want to chat, and I really want to say, "Stop, please, take a breath," and my mind may drift into that quiet and peace. Not always easy at certain moments, but I have to go there. It's survival for my spirit, it's a must.
As I prepare for our Easter Brunch at my house, a tradition that has been in my family ever since I can remember; I think of her and them in my quiet. A while back, we changed the Easter Brunch to Saturday, so I reflect in the quiet of past Easter celebrations, and I think of all of us kids searching for our baskets. Grandma always using shoe boxes with our names on white hard-boiled eggs, always in the same familiar hiding places. Even into our teenage years, until the death of my grandma, we were always searching for her "baskets." I think my sister, Susie, was married, and she still had to hunt for grandma's basket. We loved it! The day will be different, as all our days have been since her death, but we will carry out the traditions as we always have......perhaps adding some new ones.
The other day I attended a funeral mass, and there I found myself in the quiet. My mouth was moving, but my mind was in the quiet. God only knows what I said to people or how I acted, I'm not sure. Honestly, I don't care what anyone may have thought, and perhaps they don't even know. A few times one of my sisters was asking me questions, and I think I said, "I don't know." It's important to be present, but it's also important to be in the quiet, and I realized that many never take the time to be in the quiet.
Sometimes the quiet is a tearful place, there's no energy to give, a numbness, a disconnect. With Frankie's birthday yesterday, I stepped out of the quiet and actually laughed and talked of Chrissy. We all laughed, and it was good. My fear was that if I stayed there out of the quiet, I will not find my quiet place again, I will not feel her or my loved ones who have passed on to their new life. In one sense they're brought to life by the humorous memories; yet, in another sense, I forget a part of them, I forget me, and I don't want to forget.
The quiet is different for all of us who grieve; yet, it's understood. I'd like to share something that happened in my quiet as I was reflecting, thinking of the one who had passed at this funeral I attended. While my relationship with this person was not a close one, far from it. In fact, I had some interesting thoughts of this spirit, and I wondered where she might be. I thought about her kids and the impact she had on them or not? I wondered about my own soul, my actions, my purpose as a mother. I watched my great neice, Lucy, ramble about the pew, the floor, watching her daring spirit test the limits of my husband as he patiently removed her from unsafe situations. I wasn't aware of this at the time, but later learned from my husaband as I reflected in the quiet of my mind, that our precious little Lucy did something out of the ordinary. As she played around in her childish mind of dreams and carefree ways, she lifted her head ever so carefully, pursed her tiny little lips, made a manly sound and shot a quid across a couple of pews. Luckily, no one was the recipient of this spit, but it made its way to an empty pew. In the quiet of my mind, unfortunately I missed this spectacle. Had I witnessed such a sport, I would have lost it! I honestly would have brought noise back into my mind, into the solemn church and lost it! God knows that the quiet saved me that day. More of us need the quiet, for whatever happens in your life, quiet is good. Quiet saved me; otherwise, I would have been the spectacle that day. Quiet saves me most days in more ways than I can express. Living in the quiet is needed.....not only for me.....but for those who grieve.
As I prepare for our Easter Brunch at my house, a tradition that has been in my family ever since I can remember; I think of her and them in my quiet. A while back, we changed the Easter Brunch to Saturday, so I reflect in the quiet of past Easter celebrations, and I think of all of us kids searching for our baskets. Grandma always using shoe boxes with our names on white hard-boiled eggs, always in the same familiar hiding places. Even into our teenage years, until the death of my grandma, we were always searching for her "baskets." I think my sister, Susie, was married, and she still had to hunt for grandma's basket. We loved it! The day will be different, as all our days have been since her death, but we will carry out the traditions as we always have......perhaps adding some new ones.
The other day I attended a funeral mass, and there I found myself in the quiet. My mouth was moving, but my mind was in the quiet. God only knows what I said to people or how I acted, I'm not sure. Honestly, I don't care what anyone may have thought, and perhaps they don't even know. A few times one of my sisters was asking me questions, and I think I said, "I don't know." It's important to be present, but it's also important to be in the quiet, and I realized that many never take the time to be in the quiet.
Sometimes the quiet is a tearful place, there's no energy to give, a numbness, a disconnect. With Frankie's birthday yesterday, I stepped out of the quiet and actually laughed and talked of Chrissy. We all laughed, and it was good. My fear was that if I stayed there out of the quiet, I will not find my quiet place again, I will not feel her or my loved ones who have passed on to their new life. In one sense they're brought to life by the humorous memories; yet, in another sense, I forget a part of them, I forget me, and I don't want to forget.
The quiet is different for all of us who grieve; yet, it's understood. I'd like to share something that happened in my quiet as I was reflecting, thinking of the one who had passed at this funeral I attended. While my relationship with this person was not a close one, far from it. In fact, I had some interesting thoughts of this spirit, and I wondered where she might be. I thought about her kids and the impact she had on them or not? I wondered about my own soul, my actions, my purpose as a mother. I watched my great neice, Lucy, ramble about the pew, the floor, watching her daring spirit test the limits of my husband as he patiently removed her from unsafe situations. I wasn't aware of this at the time, but later learned from my husaband as I reflected in the quiet of my mind, that our precious little Lucy did something out of the ordinary. As she played around in her childish mind of dreams and carefree ways, she lifted her head ever so carefully, pursed her tiny little lips, made a manly sound and shot a quid across a couple of pews. Luckily, no one was the recipient of this spit, but it made its way to an empty pew. In the quiet of my mind, unfortunately I missed this spectacle. Had I witnessed such a sport, I would have lost it! I honestly would have brought noise back into my mind, into the solemn church and lost it! God knows that the quiet saved me that day. More of us need the quiet, for whatever happens in your life, quiet is good. Quiet saved me; otherwise, I would have been the spectacle that day. Quiet saves me most days in more ways than I can express. Living in the quiet is needed.....not only for me.....but for those who grieve.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Sweet Pea
How is it that my oldest son was given this nickname by me? Clearly, once you know him as I do, his heart alone speaks the name......sweetness, thus transformed to "Sweet Pea." As Eric approaches the age of 15 in August, I don't think he would appreciate me yelling out the car window to him "Love you Sweet Pea" but between you and me, that's who he is. He has always been an old soul and has empathy of one who has lived into their retirement years. As a child, he never gave me a moments worth of grief, unless you count some sleepless nights or lack of social interactions with his peers. Other than that, he has always been one who was eager to please.
Most moms would probably agree that the birth of their child is memorable. Not only are the pain memories of Eric's birth clear in my mind, but the specifics of that day are vivid in my mind as well. I not only remember the day of his birth, but I also remember the day when I knew I was pregnant with this precious soul. It wasn't necessarily a pregnancy that Marty and I had planned, but it was welcome and happened when it should have. We had been married about 4 years, and I think both of us were afraid of parenting.....never sure when that right time would be. Perhaps by the nudging of a higher power greater than this universe, the plan was set in place. Feeling little quirks and tiredness, not to mention that time of the month was passed due, I knew what was most likely inside. With the reliable pregnancy kit, I came to realize what I knew all along. Before taking the pregnancy test, I mentioned it to Marty, and all I remember was seeing fear pass across his face, and I think he started to munch on some chips. Of course he was thrilled, but we had that sense that NOW we were really "grown ups", it was official.
The pregancy went without a hitch other than its usual stomach upset and tiredness. We came home from our 3rd or 4th Lamaze Class, and low and behold I think my water broke. It was mid August and so terribly muggy and hot. I didn't know if I was just "damp" down there or had something really happened??? After calling my older sister, she said to call my Ob/Gyn......I layed in the bed, unable to sleep because of all the unknowns ahead. I thought about what my mom would think, having another grandchild. Although she lived in the spiritual realm, I knew that she was so thrilled. We didn't know if this baby would be a boy or girl, but as I lay in my bed, thinking of us as parents, I made my way to the bathroom. It was official, the flood gates had broken. The dampness was a slow leak that had turned into a gusher. I yelled to Marty that my water had broken, never having felt any glimmer of labor pains. We had gone to our Lamaze Class earlier in the evening practicing "pushing" and the teacher had said I wasn't doing it correctly. What did she know!? I think I literally made my water break.....that's how good I was. We arrived later that night into the wee hours of the next morning, and that baby "Sweet Pea" didn't come out until around 5:00 p.m. later that day. Yes, it was the longest, most memorable labor I had of my three children. I'm sure I screamed and moaned a few negative terms that day, probably deserved as Marty made his "funny" remarks or left the room without asking. Every mom in labor knows that the man must ask permission before doing anything during this turbulent time.
The labor was long and painful as I didn't get my epidural until I was at 8 1/2 cm. Long story, much too long to relive, but it was memorable. What I do recall most were my sisters being there, all wanting to see the actual birth of this baby coming out. "Hah, were they kidding???!!!" One who could barely show my belly, and they thought I would bare ALL of IT???? I politely asked them to exit the room, and shortly after, this beautiful wide-eyed small baby was born, and he looked exactly like my husband. He didn't cry; rather, he searched the room, and when I said, "hello" this precious baby's eyes met mine, and I fell in love with him. I loved him before, but this moment was ours, just the two of us. It didn't matter who was in the room, but his soul was forever linked to mine. How blessed am I!
Since then, I've learned the kind, cool spirit of this young man who beats to his own drum. He isn't swayed by peer pressure, and he has never cared what anyone thinks except his mom or dad. He makes those oh so right gestures without being told......he just seems to know. The moment he was born, his smile and big blue eyes took my breath away, and they forever will. He isn't one for sports, but he loves nostalgia and playing the drums. While most kids his age are talking on their cell phones or playing video games, my son searches out garage or estate sales, looking for the best bargain and truly enjoys chopping wood or listening to old time rock n roll. While some teens can be tormenting and harsh at times, it pulls at my heartstrings to see him be the recipient of their comments. For Eric, though, he doesn't give it a second thought. As he's told me before, I don't care mom, those girls are just goofy. Some day they will know the rare commodity of this young man, and they will wish he'd look their way. I know better, though, as he will find the heart the heart that matches him. If by chance he meets the wrong sort, one who doesn't appreciate the young man that he is, I will make sure she wish she had never met me. (smile) Does that sound like the mother bear protecting her cub? I don't think I'll have to worry about that, though, because Eric is a wise old soul. Some say mothers know best, but in the case of my son, Eric, he knows what's best. He will never be none other than my Sweet Pea.
"No love is greater than a mother for her child"
Most moms would probably agree that the birth of their child is memorable. Not only are the pain memories of Eric's birth clear in my mind, but the specifics of that day are vivid in my mind as well. I not only remember the day of his birth, but I also remember the day when I knew I was pregnant with this precious soul. It wasn't necessarily a pregnancy that Marty and I had planned, but it was welcome and happened when it should have. We had been married about 4 years, and I think both of us were afraid of parenting.....never sure when that right time would be. Perhaps by the nudging of a higher power greater than this universe, the plan was set in place. Feeling little quirks and tiredness, not to mention that time of the month was passed due, I knew what was most likely inside. With the reliable pregnancy kit, I came to realize what I knew all along. Before taking the pregnancy test, I mentioned it to Marty, and all I remember was seeing fear pass across his face, and I think he started to munch on some chips. Of course he was thrilled, but we had that sense that NOW we were really "grown ups", it was official.
The pregancy went without a hitch other than its usual stomach upset and tiredness. We came home from our 3rd or 4th Lamaze Class, and low and behold I think my water broke. It was mid August and so terribly muggy and hot. I didn't know if I was just "damp" down there or had something really happened??? After calling my older sister, she said to call my Ob/Gyn......I layed in the bed, unable to sleep because of all the unknowns ahead. I thought about what my mom would think, having another grandchild. Although she lived in the spiritual realm, I knew that she was so thrilled. We didn't know if this baby would be a boy or girl, but as I lay in my bed, thinking of us as parents, I made my way to the bathroom. It was official, the flood gates had broken. The dampness was a slow leak that had turned into a gusher. I yelled to Marty that my water had broken, never having felt any glimmer of labor pains. We had gone to our Lamaze Class earlier in the evening practicing "pushing" and the teacher had said I wasn't doing it correctly. What did she know!? I think I literally made my water break.....that's how good I was. We arrived later that night into the wee hours of the next morning, and that baby "Sweet Pea" didn't come out until around 5:00 p.m. later that day. Yes, it was the longest, most memorable labor I had of my three children. I'm sure I screamed and moaned a few negative terms that day, probably deserved as Marty made his "funny" remarks or left the room without asking. Every mom in labor knows that the man must ask permission before doing anything during this turbulent time.
The labor was long and painful as I didn't get my epidural until I was at 8 1/2 cm. Long story, much too long to relive, but it was memorable. What I do recall most were my sisters being there, all wanting to see the actual birth of this baby coming out. "Hah, were they kidding???!!!" One who could barely show my belly, and they thought I would bare ALL of IT???? I politely asked them to exit the room, and shortly after, this beautiful wide-eyed small baby was born, and he looked exactly like my husband. He didn't cry; rather, he searched the room, and when I said, "hello" this precious baby's eyes met mine, and I fell in love with him. I loved him before, but this moment was ours, just the two of us. It didn't matter who was in the room, but his soul was forever linked to mine. How blessed am I!
Since then, I've learned the kind, cool spirit of this young man who beats to his own drum. He isn't swayed by peer pressure, and he has never cared what anyone thinks except his mom or dad. He makes those oh so right gestures without being told......he just seems to know. The moment he was born, his smile and big blue eyes took my breath away, and they forever will. He isn't one for sports, but he loves nostalgia and playing the drums. While most kids his age are talking on their cell phones or playing video games, my son searches out garage or estate sales, looking for the best bargain and truly enjoys chopping wood or listening to old time rock n roll. While some teens can be tormenting and harsh at times, it pulls at my heartstrings to see him be the recipient of their comments. For Eric, though, he doesn't give it a second thought. As he's told me before, I don't care mom, those girls are just goofy. Some day they will know the rare commodity of this young man, and they will wish he'd look their way. I know better, though, as he will find the heart the heart that matches him. If by chance he meets the wrong sort, one who doesn't appreciate the young man that he is, I will make sure she wish she had never met me. (smile) Does that sound like the mother bear protecting her cub? I don't think I'll have to worry about that, though, because Eric is a wise old soul. Some say mothers know best, but in the case of my son, Eric, he knows what's best. He will never be none other than my Sweet Pea.
"No love is greater than a mother for her child"
Thursday, April 14, 2011
That's What it IS
What happens to your spirit when life pitches you a curve? Of course, disappointment sets in, tears flow and your confidence diminishes. There are all sorts of curves being pitched everyday. Mine happens to be living my life without the physical presence of my parents, my sister Chrissy and so many other loved ones who have passed on to their new life. So many people that I miss terribly. There are other life events that have shaped who I am, like being rejected by someone you cared about, getting a failing grade on a test, having miscarriages, disappearing friendships, not getting hired for a certain job. The list could go on and on, and that's life. It shapes our character, and anyone reading this could say the same about their own lives. The disappointments could be different for you, but they hit us all the same, right in the gut, and some linger on longer than others. All of them shape who we are. On the flip side there are also the joys, like life long friendships, marrying the love of your life, giving birth to children, being hired for a new job, laughing amongst good family and friends, eating delicious foods, watching the sun appear on the horizen, watching the sun disappear on the horizen, a good night's sleep, the ocean, the mountains, holding a baby in your arms, kisses, hugs, feeling the wind in your hair, witnessing a flower's first bloom.........and oh yes, CHOCOLATE! Chocolate was one of God's best inventions created in the human brain, and it's oh so good! My list of joys are endless and yours are too, if we only look around.
Tonight I held my little girl in my arms who was dealt one of life's disappointments, and while it was heartwrenching, it wasn't her first and it won't be her last either. There will be a plethora of life's disappointments and challenges for her, some more difficult to endure than others, but she will also experience the great joys, too. Envisioning of all her joys to come are all encompassing at times......in a good way. As mothers, we always want the best for our children, and life has a way of throwing us those curves, but it has shaped me into the person I am. Haven't yours shaped you? Painful, yes, but look where it's brought us. I am still a work in progress; it's the journey that inspires me I suppose. For some, life's journey might be too difficult to face, and they choose to end their life, never knowing some joys that lie ahead. How sorry I feel for those souls who feel that much desperation to end their own lives. Thoughts of my own death have crossed my mind. Yes, they have. I've thought about this aching, emotional pain that never seems to go away. How I could reunite with Chrissy, mom, dad and all the others. Wouldn't that be grand, the pain finally lifted? Then another thought fills my mind, perhaps it's the Holy Spirit intervening or God........then I see visions of joy in my life. I see the joy that would be gone from my own children's lives if I chose that path.
Life is filled with all sorts of wonders, and I am taking the time to see them all......good, bad and indifferent. Even in the fast-paced events of life, one has to take pause to see all of IT. As painful as this grief can be, joy surrounds me as well. While I don't want my children to experience disappointments, they must....it just IS and so IS joy.....it just IS. I will be there to support them, love them, cry with them and laugh with them. As long as God gives me breath, I will be there for them. How much would be missed in our own spiritual growth if we were denied the sorrows. I wish this sorrow wasn't mine, but as ironic as this sounds, while I have cried to the depths of my heart for reason in my life and for the events that have happened, it just IS.....and it shapes us into the people we are meant to be. The reason isn't for us to know but to believe and have faith....that's what it IS.
Tonight I held my little girl in my arms who was dealt one of life's disappointments, and while it was heartwrenching, it wasn't her first and it won't be her last either. There will be a plethora of life's disappointments and challenges for her, some more difficult to endure than others, but she will also experience the great joys, too. Envisioning of all her joys to come are all encompassing at times......in a good way. As mothers, we always want the best for our children, and life has a way of throwing us those curves, but it has shaped me into the person I am. Haven't yours shaped you? Painful, yes, but look where it's brought us. I am still a work in progress; it's the journey that inspires me I suppose. For some, life's journey might be too difficult to face, and they choose to end their life, never knowing some joys that lie ahead. How sorry I feel for those souls who feel that much desperation to end their own lives. Thoughts of my own death have crossed my mind. Yes, they have. I've thought about this aching, emotional pain that never seems to go away. How I could reunite with Chrissy, mom, dad and all the others. Wouldn't that be grand, the pain finally lifted? Then another thought fills my mind, perhaps it's the Holy Spirit intervening or God........then I see visions of joy in my life. I see the joy that would be gone from my own children's lives if I chose that path.
Life is filled with all sorts of wonders, and I am taking the time to see them all......good, bad and indifferent. Even in the fast-paced events of life, one has to take pause to see all of IT. As painful as this grief can be, joy surrounds me as well. While I don't want my children to experience disappointments, they must....it just IS and so IS joy.....it just IS. I will be there to support them, love them, cry with them and laugh with them. As long as God gives me breath, I will be there for them. How much would be missed in our own spiritual growth if we were denied the sorrows. I wish this sorrow wasn't mine, but as ironic as this sounds, while I have cried to the depths of my heart for reason in my life and for the events that have happened, it just IS.....and it shapes us into the people we are meant to be. The reason isn't for us to know but to believe and have faith....that's what it IS.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Move When the Spirit Moves You.....Listen
It's been awhile since I've written, and all I can say is that numerous thoughts have been going through my mind, countless events and commitments.....some chosen but most are required. In many attempts to write, none of my drafted journal entries made much sense, and I would stop....think of new thoughts.....write and then stop yet again. Perhaps my mind was preoccupied with life's events. Some might call it writer's block. None of my thoughts seemed important, even though I wanted to write......nothing was cohesive. I came to the conclusion that all I needed to do was take a step back, pause, reflect and take in what was happening, and when the spirit moved me, it would happen. So, the spirit moved me, and here I am again.
This past month, my sister-in-law, Connie, was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. All those familiar words came back again. I thought I had sent them soaring, thrown them out, hoping not to hear from them for a long time, but they've returned. Biopsy, blood tests, chemotherapy, ports, oxicotin, lack of appetite, tumor, lymph nodes......words I hoped to be rid of for awhile, came rushing back. I could try to dodge it; pretend like it's not in our lives again. No matter how I choose to deal with it; bottom line is Connie has been dealt the hand that so many are facing today. I'm not naive in thinking that none of my loved ones will ever be touched by "The beast" again, but I found myself moving into auto pilot these past few weeks. It's been told to me that this must be difficult to have this happen in your life again, especially when the experience with Chrissy is still so fresh; yet, my main concern was for my husband and his sister, Connie. Connie was the one who had been dealt this hand. Did hearing those words of cancer hit straight to my heart? Absolutely. I would be lying if I said it didn't bother me. Even though we may not be afflicted with the disease; all loved ones are living the journey in one form or other. I don't really know what I'm capable of giving, but I know I must be present. I must be present with my husband, present for my inlaws and present for myself. This cancer hits people of all ages, economic backgrounds and cultures. There is no rhyme or reason to the madness, but I know I must act, and that's what we must all try to do.
Today I talked with my son's teacher, and she said something that inspired me to write this entry today. A couple of years ago, her dad died, and when I heard of her loss, I felt compelled to write her, tell her how sorry I was to hear of her loss. Frankly, I don't remember the specific words I said, but whatever they were, she weeped and saved it. She said it helped her get through that moment, and she didn't feel alone. With tearful eyes, she thanked me for those words she received awhile back and said she refers to them when she's having a bad day. It also brought to mind what our pastor mentioned at mass a few weeks ago. He said that to evangelize doesn't mean we have to go around and preach the word and recite the Bible all the time; rather, evangelizing could mean something as simple as smiling at someone, baking a cake, sending a card, doing an act of kindness. All of those actions, examples of kindnesses are what God wants us to do for one another. I don't at all claim to be on top of these matters, but what I propose is that if everyone took the time to notice, how wonderful our lives would be........take notice. When the spirit moves me to write......then I write. If the spirit moves you......then DO IT.
One thing I've learned in this journey is that this world is filled with joys, surprises and disappointments. All those are a given in life, but when the spirit moves you, listen and act. Perhaps a smile is all you're able to give.....do it! Whatever it is that you are capable of giving to another human being, then follow that calling. When the spirit moves you.....listen! It might be a life changing moment for another human being.
"Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier."
- Mother Tereasa
This past month, my sister-in-law, Connie, was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. All those familiar words came back again. I thought I had sent them soaring, thrown them out, hoping not to hear from them for a long time, but they've returned. Biopsy, blood tests, chemotherapy, ports, oxicotin, lack of appetite, tumor, lymph nodes......words I hoped to be rid of for awhile, came rushing back. I could try to dodge it; pretend like it's not in our lives again. No matter how I choose to deal with it; bottom line is Connie has been dealt the hand that so many are facing today. I'm not naive in thinking that none of my loved ones will ever be touched by "The beast" again, but I found myself moving into auto pilot these past few weeks. It's been told to me that this must be difficult to have this happen in your life again, especially when the experience with Chrissy is still so fresh; yet, my main concern was for my husband and his sister, Connie. Connie was the one who had been dealt this hand. Did hearing those words of cancer hit straight to my heart? Absolutely. I would be lying if I said it didn't bother me. Even though we may not be afflicted with the disease; all loved ones are living the journey in one form or other. I don't really know what I'm capable of giving, but I know I must be present. I must be present with my husband, present for my inlaws and present for myself. This cancer hits people of all ages, economic backgrounds and cultures. There is no rhyme or reason to the madness, but I know I must act, and that's what we must all try to do.
Today I talked with my son's teacher, and she said something that inspired me to write this entry today. A couple of years ago, her dad died, and when I heard of her loss, I felt compelled to write her, tell her how sorry I was to hear of her loss. Frankly, I don't remember the specific words I said, but whatever they were, she weeped and saved it. She said it helped her get through that moment, and she didn't feel alone. With tearful eyes, she thanked me for those words she received awhile back and said she refers to them when she's having a bad day. It also brought to mind what our pastor mentioned at mass a few weeks ago. He said that to evangelize doesn't mean we have to go around and preach the word and recite the Bible all the time; rather, evangelizing could mean something as simple as smiling at someone, baking a cake, sending a card, doing an act of kindness. All of those actions, examples of kindnesses are what God wants us to do for one another. I don't at all claim to be on top of these matters, but what I propose is that if everyone took the time to notice, how wonderful our lives would be........take notice. When the spirit moves me to write......then I write. If the spirit moves you......then DO IT.
One thing I've learned in this journey is that this world is filled with joys, surprises and disappointments. All those are a given in life, but when the spirit moves you, listen and act. Perhaps a smile is all you're able to give.....do it! Whatever it is that you are capable of giving to another human being, then follow that calling. When the spirit moves you.....listen! It might be a life changing moment for another human being.
"Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier."
- Mother Tereasa
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