During the hectic and busy month of December, may you all remember to keep a little bit of this in your heart….
However you chose to celebrate the season, may it be merry and bright.
Tag: faith
Trees
When I was in grade school we were expected to memorize the poem Trees, by Joyce Kilmer. It was during 4th grade, I think. I sat at my desk reading the words over and over. Then I would close my eyes and try to recall one sentence at a time, peeking down at my paper each time I needed a prompt. Silently starting at the beginning of the poem again each time I had mastered a new line. Closing my eyes over and over and mouthing the words silently until I had memorized the entire poem.
In 4th grade, when I was 9-10, the emotion behind these words were lost on me. The poem was strictly an assignment. A task that I needed to work through until complete. When I was finished, we moved on to a different assignment.
Today, the words and the meaning behind the words are not lost on me. Especially at this time of year. In autumn when the trees are so full of beauty and rich color, the words to this poem wash over you and fill you with a feeling of gratitude and appreciation for all of God’s wonderful gifts to us. I’m so grateful for the beauty of autumn and for the sense of renewal that goes hand in hand with this beautiful season.
The trees seem to be at their peak color in the Midwest right now. My favorite season. Fall. It’s like floating over a carpet of bursting, vibrant colors every time you walk out your front door.
Trees
I think that I shall never see
a poem as lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
against the sweet earth’s flowing breast
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain
Who intimately lives with rain
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
– Joyce Kilmer (1856-1918)
Where Were You On October 2, 1998?
It feels a bit like cheating. But, some words are worth repeating.
I woke up this morning thinking about this exact post and knew it was worth re-posting. For those of you out there whose hearts are tender – to the new readers to my blog since I last ran this piece, I dedicate this to you.
Where were you on October 2, 1998?
You probably have no clue. If you racked your brain trying to remember, you probably would not be able to recall. But, if I asked you where you were on other significant dates in history, chances are you’d probably not only recall where you were, but what you were doing and who you were with.
Where were you September 11th, 2001? Where were you when Kennedy got shot? Or, when Pearl Harbor got bombed? Some of you may recall where you were when Nixon resigned. Or, when John Lennon got shot. Or, when Elvis died.
These significant days in history act as markers on the timeline of our lives. Because they were so catastrophic and life altering, we can remember exactly where we were and what we were doing in that specific moment in time.
We can also recall our specific whereabouts in our times of personal crisis and joy. When a baby is born. When a loved one dies. When a best friend calls us up and tells us they are getting married.
October 2, 1998 – a significant day in my life.
You may not recall where you exactly were then, but I know exactly where I was. That was the day my Dad lost his battle with Cancer. I was with him. My Mom and one of my two Brothers were there, too. 16 years ago today. (That’s so hard to believe!!) I was sitting on the side of his bed holding his hand. It was the first time I was with someone when they took their last breath. It was the first time I held someones hand and felt them go completely still and feel their life end. It was surreal. And sad. And at the moment, something I could not wrap my brain around. Even tho I knew he was near the end of his life, nothing quite prepares you for that moment when your parent actually passes away. Breathing in life one moment – and in the next instance, complete stillness. Their soul moving towards Heaven. It was a powerful moment in my life and a precise moment on my personal timeline where I will always remember where I was and what I was doing.
I’ve lost both of my parents now. My Dad 16 years ago and my Mom more recently – just 20 months ago. February 14th – Valentines Day 2014. I did not have the privilege to be with her and tell her goodbye when her time to leave this earth arrived. But I’m confident that she knew exactly how I felt and how much I loved and respected her. I’m confident that she knew how much all of my siblings loved her.
While I’m still adjusting to life without my Mom, the old saying really is true – “Time Heals All Wounds.” You start to come out of the fog gradually and learn to smile and laugh again.
My Dad was Irish. He was hardworking and funny and sentimental. He liked sports, Notre Dame and beer. He passed his sense of humor and hard work ethic on to all of us. Thanks Dad!! When my brothers and sisters and I get together, all we have to do is say one word to each other or give each other one look that was his and we all start laughing. And we laugh long and hard. And we remember him with fondness and joy and with the sentimentality that he unknowingly passed on to all of us. Time heals all wounds.
We remember and speak of our personal experiences and that helps to keep those collective memories of history and personal tragedy and triumph vivid and fresh. And then, suddenly, 10 years have passed. Or, 20. Or, 50
I miss my Dad. Especially today. I miss my Mom, too. I will never quite get used to them being gone – or not being able to pick up the phone to talk to them. And, I’ll never get used to no longer being able to just get in the car to take a road trip to see them. But I am grateful for two such loving, selfless parents who showered me with unconditional love. I’m grateful for the memories of their laughter and smiles. And kindness.
When was YOUR October 2, 1998?? We all have them.
The good new is, Time Heals all Wounds.
A thought for Monday…
Faith – Isn’t it comforting to know that somehow, someone is always in control of what lies ahead for us each day ~ that things work out exactly the way they are supposed to work out. Faith does not always lead us where we want to be, but always where we are supposed to be.
Faith is having the courage to let God have the control.
Rainbow Bridge ~ Something Worth Sharing
It seems that in the past few months I’ve read post after post from friends on Facebook who have lost a beloved pet. Today another post was made from another friend. In it, she mentioned a place called Rainbow Bridge. I remember my sister mentioning this place to me long ago. At the time I didn’t own a pet. I had no dog or cat. No fish or rabbits or birds. Or, any other creature that people decide to adopt and take care of and make part of their family.
Today I do have a pet. I have a puppy named Duncan. I have found out how quickly these wonderful creatures steal your heart and become a true member of your family.
When I read my friend’s post this morning referring to Rainbow Bridge, I decided to Google it and find out what and where exactly this place was. For those of you who have pets or have ever had a pet, I think you’ll find that my discovery is worth sharing……
Rainbow Bridge
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Where’s your happy place?
We’ve all been there. You wake up in the morning and feel somewhat stiff and sore. The Flu? A cold coming on? Some kind of illness that you’re sure will keep you from leaving your bedroom all day, let alone your home. Your mind starts to clear from the hazy slumber you just woke up from and then you remember. YOGA!!
I was going to become a yoga guru in the new year. My resolution – become more in tuned with my body while nourishing it through the ancient art of yoga. Great idea? Yes, I thought so!
In my mind, Yoga was stretching and a light, relaxing form of exercise. I could wear something fashionable and cute and not even break a sweat while getting into amazingly sculpted shape. It would benefit both my mind and body. And, my friend and I could not wait to get started. One of my bestie’s and I signed up for a 10 week beginners yoga course. It was all set for Saturday mornings. Ten in a row. We’d be fit and fabulous in no time at all.
We agreed to start the first Saturday of the New Year. Oops. That was Superbowl weekend. OK, we’d start the 2nd weekend. After all, what was one more weekend of indulgence after a long holiday season with no regard to nutrition or health whatsoever?
So off I went on the designated start day. I drove to the trendy yoga studio, feeling quite smug, looking around at the other drivers on the road at this early morning hour on a weekend. I wondered where they were going. Well, they weren’t going to yoga like I was. Ha! One point for me!
I walked in with my fancy, new, Costco discount yoga mat slung around my back like all the young girls I saw. I was ready to get my Yoga on. I had beat my friend to the class so I signed in with the bright pen that was decorated with a big daisy on the end of it. Very groovy! I turned and headed towards the sheer fabric panels that I saw hanging from the ceiling. They acted as a divider between the front reception area and the actual studio. I walked through them and entered the studio area.
Looking around, I noticed that the room was not as big as I imagined it would be. It was actually a little tight on space. There were yoga mats laying all over the place in random order. The air smelled warm and damp from the previous class that had just got done. I turned towards the back of the room and found a space in the corner of the crowded room. I unrolled my mat and plopped down on it. I saved the space next to me for my friend who had still not arrived. Everyone around me was stretching and warming up. I decided to do the same. The girl next to me was sitting crossed legged and bending over her thighs. She was folded almost in half, so low that her forehead almost touched the ground. OK! I’ll do that, too. I mimicked my neighbors position and tried to bend down. I didn’t get very far. I don’t even think I got halfway down. I was stuck in an almost 90 Degree angle. I used to be so flexible. When did this happen?
I heard my friend’s voice as she entered the studio and waved her over to me. We were next to each other on our mats, looking around at all the others bending their lithe figures this way and that. We decided to just chat about how great we looked in our new workout gear until the instructor got started. Don’t we look great?! Yes, we do!
The instructor walked in, dimmed the lights low and got started. The people all around me had their socks off to prevent slippage. I kept mine on. I had not thought ahead. If I took my socks off everyone would see my 2 month old pedicure that had grown out almost midway to the tips of my toes. It was chipping and peeling. Who knew anyone besides my hubby would be seeing my toes during the snowy, winter months? Mental note: get pedicure before next class.
We warmed up with a few easy poses. OK! simple. I could handle this. No sweat! But after about 10 minutes, things started to get a bit sticky. We were bending ourselves in all kind of unnatural positions. We were doing planks. And, doing Ab work. My abs had not had a relationship with an exercise, well, since I had my kids 20 years earlier. I was starting to sweat. I could see the perspiration droplets starting to show through my new, trendy workout gear. The instructor had earlier told us to work with our eyes closed and at our own pace. I opened mine and peeked over at my friend. She was dabbing the sweat off of her brow, too… dab dab dab.. The instructor caught me looking around the room and reiterated that nobody should worry about anybody else’s performance level. But how could I not notice and be amazed at the little skinny thing in front of me. She had her ankle behind her neck. Good Lord, It was like something straight out of Ripley’s Believe it or Not. I looked at my friend again and she was silently mouthing something to me…. these poses are humanly unnatural… I nodded and agreed. I could hear pops from different parts of my body and prayed that I wouldn’t throw anything out of joint.
After 55 minutes of putting our poor, out of shape bodies through torture and hell, we finally got to the cool down.
Ahhhh. Now this I could handle. Granted, we were just lying there sweaty on the mats – silently. Eyes closed, hands at our sides, palms facing upwards. My heartbeat began to return to normal. My sweating slowed down from a steady flow to a little drip. The instructors soothing voice washed over us. There was quiet music playing in the background, swirling around my brain. I had actually become relaxed. I had gone from challenging my body like it had not been challenged in a long time to extreme relaxation. All in a matter of five minutes. As the entire class lay there silently she made us aware of all of our senses. Moving from one muscle group to the next. It felt like heaven. In a way, it was spiritual. She told us to let our breathing return to normal. To concentrate only on going to a place in our hearts and mind that made us happy. A beach. A recent or long ago vacation. A memory. It could be anywhere. Or with anyone.
I was sitting on a large tourist bus in a seat next to my mom. We were perched up high over the road. Traveling through the countryside of Italy on our way to Rome. We were traveling with a choir group from one of my girlfriend’s church. She had invited us to come along. There were extra seats available. It was my Mom’s and My first trip to Italy. A place where we had both always wanted to go. And, we did. My mind remembered that the choir on the bus was singing. They were practicing the hymns and church songs that they were going to sing in Churches along the way. It was beautiful. My memory shifted over to my My mom and I looking out the window at the rolling hills of Tuscany. We saw tall trees all around us. Those tall, pine-like ones that are so familiar to the Italian region. The ones I had seen in books and magazines all of my life. The houses were different. Stucco with tiled roofs. There was livestock, mostly sheep, roaming around. Our bus chugged along silently through the countryside over the hills. It looked simple. And lovely. My mom and I were talking all along the way. We were sitting arm in arm. And, we were laughing. Remembering experiences from the night before in Florence. A restaurant that stayed opened for us during the traditional Italian siesta time. The opened bottle of Limoncello sitting on our table Bottle’s of Italian red wine. Our new friends sitting across from us. We did not know them before we boarded the plane in Chicago. Now? We were close with them. And, traveling across central Europe with them. A bond had been formed. It was soothing and it was the happy place that my heart had gone to for that moment…..
And then, suddenly, the instructor invaded my happy place. I was back in the present. With my dear yoga buddy next to me. We were told to sit in an upright position and show the sign of thankfulness. Hands held in front of you. In a praying position. She told us to take with us something good for the rest of the day. Something that will make us shine, inside and out. To remember why we had come in the first place. Why we had walked through the door. That we were there for a reason and not out of randomness. And, she was right.
We had made a pact to better our minds and body in the new year. And now that I had been through the challenges of the first class and the spirituality of the cool down, I knew this was the place for me. I wanted to come back again. And, again.
Namasté
Welcome February
Welcome February
Oh My Beautiful Hometown – quiet, humble city. Thank You for dressing up for me.
“Everything was frozen, and yet it all appeared so beautiful. … Yes, like little children, in spite of the cold, we went from one extremity to the other, perfectly enchanted with the marvelous beauties of our new abode”
– Fr. Edward Sorin
twenty fourteen
Nobody knows what a New Year will bring. Nobody knows what life holds for each of us from one year to the next.
As I walk away from 2014, I reflect back on a year full of ups and downs. A year full of joy and heartbreak. A year that I would hear the word remission. And, A year that I would end up expectantly saying goodbye to my Sweet Mom. Amazing joy and bitter sorrow. Hand in hand throughout the year.
I turned to my friends and family for support. I turned to my WordPress community as a means of purging my painful feelings through blog posts. And, with camera constantly in hand, I turned to my photography as a way of relaying through photos what I was not able to and could not verbalize into words.
Before we can look ahead, let’s take a reflective look back at what was 2014.
Retrospective – 2104
Before we move ahead, a chance to look back….
“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language and next year’s words await another voice, And to make an end is to make a beginning.”
-T.S.Elliot
Where Were You On October 2, 1998?
Where were you on October 2, 1998?
You probably have no clue. If you racked your brain trying to remember, you probably would not be able to recall. But, if I asked you where you were on other significant days in history, chances are you’d probably not only recall where you were, but what you were doing and who you were with.
Where were you September 11th, 2001? Where were you when Kennedy got shot? Or, when Pearl Harbor got bombed? Some of you may recall where you were when Nixon resigned. Or, when John Lennon got shot. Or, when Elvis died.
These significant days in history act as markers on the timeline of our lives. Because they were so catastrophic and life altering, we can remember exactly where we were and what we were doing in that specific moment in time.
We can also recall our specific whereabouts in our times of personal crisis and joy. When a baby is born. When a loved one dies. When a best friend calls us up and tells us they are getting married.
October 2, 1998 – a significant day in my life.
You may not recall where you exactly were then, but I know exactly where I was. That was the day my Dad lost his battle with Cancer. I was with him. My Mom and one of my two Brothers were there, too. 16 years ago today. (That’s so hard to believe!!) I was sitting on the side of his bed holding his hand. It was the first time I was with someone when they took their last breath. It was the first time I held someones hand and felt them go completely still and feel their life end. It was surreal. And sad. And at the moment, something I could not wrap my brain around. Even tho I knew he was near the end of his life, nothing quite prepares you for that moment when your parent actually passes away. Breathing in life one moment – and in the next instance, complete stillness. Their soul moving towards Heaven. It was a powerful moment in my life and a precise moment on my personal timeline where I will always remember where I was and what I was doing.
I’ve lost both of my parents now. My Dad 16 years ago and my Mom more recently – just 8 months ago. February 14th – Valentines Day 2014. I did not have the privilege to be with her and tell her goodbye when her time to leave this earth arrived. But I’m confident that she knew exactly how I felt and how much I loved and respected her. I’m confident that she knew how much all of my siblings loved her.
While I’m still adjusting to life without my Mom, the old saying really is true – “Time Heals All Wounds.” You start to come out of the fog gradually and learn to smile and laugh again.
My Dad was Irish. He was hardworking and funny and sentimental. He liked sports, Notre Dame and beer. He passed his sense of humor and hard work ethic on to all of us. Thanks Dad!! When my brothers and sisters and I get together, all we have to do is say one word to each other or give each other one look that was his and we all start laughing. And we laugh long and hard. And we remember him with fondness and joy and with the sentimentality that he unknowingly passed on to all of us. Time heals all wounds.
We remember and speak of our personal experiences and that helps to keep those collective memories of history and personal tragedy and triumph vivid and fresh. And then, suddenly, 10 years have passed. Or, 20. Or, 50
I miss my Dad. Especially today. I miss my Mom, too. I will never quite get used to them being gone – or not being able to pick up the phone to talk to them. And, I’ll never get used to no longer being able to just get in the car to take a road trip to see them. But I am grateful for two such loving, selfless parents who showered me with unconditional love. I’m grateful for the memories of their laughter and smiles. And kindness.
When was YOUR October 2, 1998?? We all have them.
The good new is, Time Heals all Wounds.
Walking a mile in their ALS shoes
This past week as I was bombarded with ice bucket video clips on Facebook, I thought to myself…..I need to blog about this!! I want to do my part to bring awareness to this terrible disease. I thought about all the different spins I could put into the post. And then, just like that, an amazing article was brought to my attention. An article written by someone who this disease has personally touched. As I read through her thoughts which she herself blogged about, I knew I could not put into words, what she had managed to do.
Read on…
What An ALS Family REALLY Thinks About the Ice Bucket Challenge
Well, we are on week two of the very-viral very-everywhere ALS ice bucket challenge. I know, I know, I can hear the groans…it started out cute and now it’s out-of-control. Played. Clogging up social media sites everywhere.
I even read an article in which the author called the challenge (that has raised an unprecedented amount of money for one of the most outrageously underfunded diseases) a waste of fresh water. Another headline whined, “Is the Ice Bucket Challenge Going to Cure ALS?” Um, no (and – btw – that’s a stupid bar to set for any fundraiser.) Critics complain that the challenge is really about feeding our American narcissism and does nothing for ALS awareness or funding. They assert that people should just quietly donate their money and move on with their lives.
I get that they’re cranky, but I think maybe they don’t realize what it’s like to face this insidious disease and then realize that it’s nearly invisible to the rest of the world. As I watch my husband become entombed inside his own body, I feel desperate for people to understand that this sort of inhumane condition exists. But for some reason, while everyone acknowledges it’s one of the worst fates imaginable, funding for research and patient care is nearly nil. I recently mentioned to a doctor that my husband has ALS and she first looked confused and then said, “Oh, that’s Lou Gehrig’s Disease, right?” Right. Why does she -a doctor of medicine – still only know it by Lou Gehrigs Disease? Because we humans need to associate things with people. It’s easier that way. That’s why the celebrity faces and personal challenges happening in the ice bucket challenge are so effective at bringing in money. And if someone gets to look good while plunking their $50 in the ALS tip jar, I have zero problem with that.
Because here’s the deal: We are in for the fight of our lives with this monster, and the very LAST thing I want is for people to give quietly, anonymously, and then slink away. Raise the roof! Raise a ruckus! Call all sorts of attention to yourself! I will be happy for you and every Facebook like you receive, as you nudge ALS an inch or two closer to the collective public consciousness.
So, fear not, dear reader, this too shall pass and your Facebook newsfeed will go back to cat videos and kids singing Let It Go. Until that happens, here’s a little reminder about what it’s like to live with ALS and why this level of awareness is like gold to families like mine.
—————————–
A Mile in ALS Shoes
People ask me often what it’s like to live with ALS. It’s a brave question because the answers are not very pleasant. But it’s also such a worthy question because understanding how this disease impacts those who suffer from it creates empathy which is so valuable; it carries us into another person’s world and allows us to understand what they’re feeling and how they’re hurting. As I watch my strong husband struggle with things that used to be easy and automatic, I sometimes wish that everyone could see life from his perspective.
If you would like to experience just a tiny corner of an ALS life, I have a list of Empathetic Experiences for you. These are things you can do to walk for just a mile in ALS shoes. If you try one, take a little time at the end to consider that people actually living with the disease have a million miles more to go.
- Pick up a 10-pound weight. Now imagine it’s your fork and move it from your plate to your mouth repeatedly without shaking.
- Sit in a chair for just 15 minutes moving nothing but your eyes. Nothing. No speaking, no scratching your nose, no shifting your weight, no changing the channel on the television, no computer work. Only your eyes. As you sit, imagine: this is your life. Your only life.
- Borrow a wheelchair or power scooter and try to maneuver quickly through the aisles at Walmart, without speaking. Note the way people react to you.
- Strap 25 pounds to your forearm. Now, adjust your rearview mirror.
- Using none of your own muscles, have your spouse or child or friend get you dressed and brush your teeth. Write down some of the feelings you have being cared for in this way.
- Before you eat your next meal, take a good, long look at the food. Inhale deeply and appreciate the aroma. Now, imagine never being able to taste that – or any other food – for the rest of your life.
- Put two large marshmallows in your mouth and have a conversation with your friends. How many times must you repeat yourself? How does this make you feel?
- Go to bed and stay in one position for as long as you possibly can, moving nothing.
- Strap weights to your ankles and climb a flight of stairs, taking two at a time. That’s the kind of strength it takes for someone with ALS to tackle the stairs on a good day.
- Install a text-to-speech app on your phone or iPad and use it exclusively to communicate for one day.
And to my friends living with ALS: please give us more ideas and help us move into your world for a bit. We want to help make your lives rich and full and I’m not sure we can do that without at least a basic understanding of what you are facing. I think I speak for many when I say: you are superheroes and we are in awe.
With unending hope for a million-mile cure,
Bo
Being Margaret 