Grief - lesson one

My nephew died.  He was only 19.

Through the past two weeks, I have been learning the lessons of grief.  Our family has been walking the paths of sorrow through the valley of the shadow of death.  My nephew's mother is my sister and we are walking through the valley together, along with many other people. 

I know that other lessons and insights will come in the next weeks, months and years, but I am most struck today with how grief reveals our true self.

I have heard it said many times that as we grow older we become more of what we really are.  We lose either the ability or the desire to cover up our flaws.  We don't care what people think.  We let the world see who we really are on the inside.  This concept has often challenged me to be better and more led by the presence of the Spirit.  When the time comes that I am no longer capable of covering up my raw, true insides, I want peace and love and joy and self-control and patience to come through.  Not the selfish, insecure, prideful person who tries to reign in me.  The process is taking me an entire lifetime -- it is terribly difficult.

So, when I notice other people, I am also noticing myself.  Making observations of others, making corrections in me.

I say all of that to say this:  Grieving makes us raw and revealed.  In the past two weeks it has looked like this:

Servants serve.
Cooks cook the most delicious of meals.
Artists make art that inspires and comforts.
Gift givers give gifts that become treasures.
Talkers talk.
Angry people become angry.
Listeners listen attentively.
Runners run long distances.
Problem solvers solve problems that others can't begin to figure out.
Writers write beautiful notes and essays.
Withdrawn people withdraw even more.
Wise people share wisdom that gets us through a tough hour or day.

And all of it, the good and the bad, is okay.  We're on a journey to become more and more like Jesus and none of us is there, yet.  Our journey has taken a very sharp and painful turn, and in this turn we have lost our cover-up.  The grief has taken away our desire and ability to 'look good' around other people.  We are exposed.  We have become real.

The streak



 Here is a little phone conversation I had yesterday:

 

Me:  I've got a little running streak going.

 

Jackie:  Great!  What kind of streak?

 

Me:  A running streak.

 

....silence across the phone lines....

 

Jackie:  Oh!  You mean running!

 

Okay.  This may be confusing.  But, I have a little running streak going.  I have run for 35 days in a row!  I have a friend who has a big running streak going.  She has run for 386 days in a row.  So, mine is just little. 

 

It's a big deal, though, because I'm not good at it, I don't like it, and I sweat terribly.  Running is good for me.  Period.  That is why I do it.

 

My running began almost two years ago and besides the physical benefits, there are some blessings that go along with my little jogs.  I get to run along wooded dirt roads and on smooth paved roads past loved ones' homes.  I have seen the sun rise and seen the sun set.  I have heard birds singing songs I would never hear from inside the house.  I have smelled freshly tilled earth, newly planted with wheat seeds.  I have nearly stumbled over big rocks, mud puddles, and dead snakes.  I have worshiped and prayed.   Many times I am alone, but I have also been joined by my sister, my husband, and my dog.

 

Yesterday, I had planned a fairly short outing and half-way through I did something I had never done before.  I took a detour.  To my left was a pond that I rarely visit.

 

On that pond is a small deck.



 

On that deck is a swing. 

 

And I sat down.  Right in the middle of my run.

 

I think that peaceful, quiet time did as much for my heart as the run that took me there and back home.  And, I think I will do that again.  Maybe on a Saturday next time, too.  Maybe I'll get a streak of how many Saturdays I have taken a detour!

 



One of my favorites

This is one of my favorite pictures I took last year.

In September, Daryl and I were in Honolulu.  We went to Ala Moana Park to watch the sunset and definitely weren't disappointed.

There were people everywhere, some on the beach with us, others in the water.  But, just after the sun fell below the horizon this lone paddle-boarder drifted in front of me.

I have wondered since that day about the man in the picture.  I don't have any idea about him except that he looked to be native Hawaiian and that he was comfortable on the water.  I have looked at the picture many times since I was there and this guy has become a part of my consciousness.  He has no idea.

Two people connected by a picture only one of us knows about.

Strange.

The praise of birds

The birds and I had a little sunrise Easter service this morning.

They sang.  I listened.

We were both worshiping the God who made us.

Thanking him for springtime and new beginnings.

A pleasant oak sunset

The sunsets from Mom and Dad's deck are famous.  

I captured this one looking between the limbs of one of their gnarled oak trees.

Beautiful!

Solidarity

I woke up this morning with a feeling of solidarity with my mom and sisters.  We are all, in our own ways, fighting against cancer.

Mom's fight is an actual battle and she is waging war against ovarian cancer.  Cancer is an enemy that came, not unexpectedly, but as a surprise none the less.  At least two generations of women before her had fought the disease.  Brave, strong, courageous women.  Those traits are in Mom, and since we take the bad with the good, the cancer was in her, too.  She is fighting with the strength that comes from God, with chemotherapy, and with an indomitable spirit.

We had all hoped that since Mom had made it so long without facing cancer that maybe the cycle was broken.  When that hope wasn't realized, a very obvious thought came to our minds:  my sisters and I are next in line.  We asked for advice from the oncologist and her opinion was that we have a complete hysterectomy to remove the possibility for cancer to get us there.  She advised us to make an offensive strike in our fight.

And that is what we have done.  In order, oldest to youngest, in our own time.  My surgery was first while Mom was still undergoing a round of chemo.  Cathy next, and yesterday was Cheryl's turn.

Will this radically proactive step prevent cancer from attacking a fourth generation of women?  I don't know.  But, I'm not afraid.  Not one bit.

We are brave.  We are strong.  We are courageous.

And the God who is in the four of us is strong enough to save us from cancer or save us through it.

In or out

On this beautiful, sunny, warm Saturday I have decided to... crochet.

Inside.  In my den.

There is so much sun to enjoy!  So much warmth to soak in!

But, I am in my cozy den, curled up with my yarn.

It is a choice I made in a very deliberate way.  After all, everything I do is a choice between many options.  Most of them very good options.

I have slowly come to realize that I feel a little overwhelmed by all of the things I would like to do well.  So, I did what I do best:  I made a list.

I made a list of everything I could quickly think of that, 1)is my responsibility to do, or 2)I am passionate about doing and doing well.  In about 60 seconds I thought of 25 things.  Twenty-five!

My project this year may be to pare down the list.  To go deeper instead of wider.  I can already feel the grieving begin for things I may not accomplish in this life.

Those thoughts are for another day, though.

Crocheting is a peaceful, relaxing, productive thing to do.  I love to do it.

Being outside and working in the yard on a warm day after so many cold days is revitalizing.  The birds are singing and brown is changing into green.  I love to be out there.

Today, I choose crochet.

Here comes the sun...

Oh, sun, I am so glad to see you!

I do love cloudy, rainy, dreary days.  We have had many of them lately.  And, if the skies are gray again tomorrow, I will be happy.

But, for today, I am thankful for the sun's rays as they break out across the field.

A November gift

Today was a gift.

I suppose that every day is a present that God gives us, but he gift-wrapped this one even more special than normal.  If this mid-November Saturday had been gray and rainy no one would be surprised.  After all, we are in the waning days of fall, winter is looming on the next calendar page.

But today is one I dream of all year.  Perfectly sunny, warm, and all in tints of yellow.  

I walked around the yard soaking up the sounds and views around me.  The slope to the boat landing leads to the back waters of the Alabama River.  Much of the year it is muddy, but today the water came up to the bottom of the landing.  It is hard to tell, but the shiny place at the bottom of the picture is the river.

The birds and squirrels accepted today's gift with a playful attitude.  They sang more, chattered to each other, played in the big oak.

I've always heard that robins signal the coming of spring, but that would be if you live in more northern climates.  Our yard was full of robins today. 

As I roamed around I found my way to the top of the hill in our yard.  We share a driveway with Daryl's parents.  This is where the drive splits, theirs to left, ours to the right.

At the back of our hill is a small burial plot.  A few years ago when Jackie's cat, Scarlett, died I buried her at the base of a tree.  It was just me and her on a rainy day I'll never forget.  I placed a small piece of flagstone on top of her grave as a marker.

When Shiloh died we buried her next to Scarlett.  They would never have been this close to each other in life :)   Scarlett's stone stayed flat for years, but Daryl stood the stones up and I like it that way.

One day I'd like to put a place to sit and reflect and enjoy the beauty on top of our hill.  And when I am gone and cremated I want my ashes scattered or buried there.  Not because I want to be buried next to my dog, but because I can't think of a better resting place for the earthly me.  

The eternal me will already have gone on to endless days just like this one.

I voted for Twinks

About 30 thirty years ago Daryl and I were part of the Farm Bureau Young Farmers, which at the time was an accurate description of us:  Young Farmers.  I don't remember the entire purpose of the organization, but I do know that it was an attempt to promote farming in our area.

One year we organized a beauty pageant.  I have no idea what that might have had to do with farming, unless we were attempting to recruit beautiful young women to drive tractors and ride horses.   And, while I don't remember very much about that event I do remember the name of the winner:  Twinkle Andress.

Daryl fell in love with the name Twinkle and decided that day that if he ever had a daughter her name would be Twinkle Greer.  I, on the other hand, was not so sold on that name for our daughter.  I have forgotten the story that the original Twinkle told us about her name, but we had no such story and the name didn't fit in with our other children's names.

How would it sound to say, "I'd like you to meet my children, Ben, David, and .....Twinkle."

Daryl was serious, though, and I tried to find names that would work with Twinkle.

Twinkle Ann.  Twinkle Louise.  Mary Twinkle.  I was trying.

As it happened, though, when we had our little girl, level heads prevailed and we gave our daughter two family names: Jacqueline, after my dad, Jack, and Anne, after me.

Jackie grew up knowing that her "almost" name was Twinkle.  In fact, Twinkle was one of her nicknames.  Other people heard about that and started calling her "Twinks."  Twinks was part of her email address for years and sometimes, even now, a friend at church will ask me how Twinks is doing.

It seemed a shame to have a name be such a part of our lives and never have a family member wear it.  So, when we named our cat, Twinkle was an easy choice for us all.

The original Twinkle grew up from her beauty pageant days and became a wife, mother, business owner, and....a politician.

When I saw her name on the ballot today I did the natural thing:

I voted for Twinkle!

October full moon

It was the night of my favorite full moon, the one in October.

He called me on the way home from work.

"I'm bringing home a party.  Wieners, buns, marshmallows, Hershey's bars, and graham crackers."

He cut some firewood, pulled up the fire pit, a chair for him, a chair for me, and built the fire.

Then he waited for the fire to get to the perfect wiener-roasting temperature.

We made our hot dogs and smores, drank our Coke and root beer.  As the beautiful, huge moon came up, we saw it through the trees.

And we celebrated autumn.

Together.

Protected

Today, I am thinking about everyone in the path of Hurricane Sandy.  

When the wind and rain begin there is nothing to do, but sit it out and wait for relief.

Jackie sent this picture from her back patio in Philadelphia.  Stay safe!

Plans

Today was not what I had planned.

I thought I would clean house, run one errand for Daryl, do laundry, cook dinner, plan meals for the next week, pay bills and the like.  This plan was made several days ago.  It was in writing.  It was purposeful.  I shared my plan for the week with Daryl, he shared his plan for his week with me.  Everything I planned to do was in support of our common goals.

Ready, set, go!

But, the errand that should have taken 45 minutes from leave home to return home took 5 1/2 hours instead. I called Cathy to share my frustration as I drove in literal circles around our three county area and she spoke loving, calming words to me.

She helped me understand that while my job title might be 'homemaker', today my job was not at home.  No one will go hungry or undressed, the bathrooms can wait until another day be cleaned.

Plans are just that.  Plans.  Not unmovable stone mountains.

I knew that, really, but needed the reminder.

Thanks, sis.

Thanks, God!

Beautiful fruit

I am the vine 

and you are the branches.

If you stay joined to me, and I stay joined to you

then you will produce lots of fruit.

John 15:5

I pray that my fruit is a beautiful as this we saw in Napa last month.

Thankful Thursday

I cleaned my bathroom today.

That may not be big news at your house, but it is around here.  I tend to keep it picked up, slightly swiped regularly, but not what I (or anyone else) would call cleaned.

I had a little laugh at myself when I realized that I am trying to moisturize myself into looking younger.

I have night cream, day cream, extra-emollient cream (it is so good that it will soften my feet), microdermabrasion cream, eye cream, cream to fade age spots, cream to cover up age spots, creams with names that I can't pronounce because they are in another language but someone told me they are creamy and good for aging skin.

I even have one called Precious Cream.  I haven't opened it, yet.  Because it is precious.

The years that brought the age and the wrinkles that need the creams have also brought great blessings.  I noticed a deeper wrinkle yesterday when I looked in the mirror.  The great thing is that the mirror was being held by Lily as she put makeup on my face.

I am so thankful for the blessings of the day I had yesterday.  I spent special, one-on-one time with two of our grandchildren and talked with and hugged the other three. I had meaningful conversations with two of our children, two of their spouses, my mother, both sisters, a sister-in-law, my mother-in-law, and my husband.  I feel a peace that completely passes any understanding I could have had in my youth.  I am aware of the perfect, total, and complete love that God has for me.

I am learning to love the skin I am in.

I just want to keep it moisturized.

Thankful Thursday

This is how I feel about cutting grass:

Somebody has to clean all this away.

somebody, SOMEBODY

has to, you see

Then she picked out a somebody 

and it was me.

        (paraphrase from The Cat In The Hat)

I have been a grass cutter since I was in the second grade.  Some years other people have had the primary responsibility to keep the yard mowed, but for most years since I was eight, I have been the lawn mowing queen.  Many times I have quoted those lines from Dr. Suess's book.  SOMEBODY has to do it.  Why not me?

I've had some great machines to work with, but none better than the Kubota with the 6 foot deck we use now.  If you don't mind the bumpy parts of the yard and keep the speed pretty high, all of the grass around here can be cut in about 3 1/2 hours.  That's not bad for the several acres that we try to keep well-groomed.

But, just because it is my responsibility to cut the grass and just because I have a great mower, it doesn't mean that I don't enjoy some help.

This week Daryl changed the blades, changed the oil, and did some other mechanical things I don't know a thing about.

Today he cut the grass.

That feels like love to me.  And I am so thankful.

If not for summer...

My favorite season has always been Fall.

I love everything about it:  crispy leaves, fire pits, football, cool weather, October.

And if my favorite season is fall, I'd have to say that my least favorite is Summer.  I feel bad to say that, really.  Summer is full of happiness, sun, water, flowers, warmth, no school, vacations.  It's just that I never enjoy the summer as much as the other three seasons.

Last week, though, I was walking through the yard, feeling the heat beating down, noticing all of the grass that needed to be cut when I realized something....

The reason I love Fall so much is because of the contrast it brings to the summer.

Without summer, I wouldn't know how to appreciate fall.  Without the oppressive heat and humidity I wouldn't know the joy of a cool, crisp morning.

When this thought entered my mind, I realized that so much of my life is that way.  Without some poverty, I can't fully appreciate some wealth.  Without some sickness, I can't be fully grateful for my health.  Without pain, my muscles don't get strong.

Without summer, there is no fall.

God's plan is perfect in all its ways.  I love it when I can see it so clearly.

You call this a sale?

I saw this on the sale page at the Terrain website yesterday:

Japanese Hand Rake

$15.95 

$16.00

I'm just not sure that saving that nickle is going to make me buy this handy rake!

The roosters and the eggs

The day has come when I must have our little talk about the birds and the bees.  When I say, "the birds", I am talking about "the chickens".  And this talk doesn't include any bees.

Very intelligent people, who otherwise seem fully aware of how nature works, are confused about the rooster and the egg.  The incident that forces me into having this discussion with you is a conversation I had recently with a Grown Man.


Grown Man:  I think I would like to raise chickens in my backyard.

Me:  Good!  I think you would enjoy having them.  Chickens are a little noisy, though.

Grown Man:  We live on 2 acres so we aren't that close to our neighbors.

Me:  Then you shouldn't have any problems with noise as long as you don't get a rooster.  And you will love having the fresh eggs.

Grown Man:  Well, you need a rooster to get eggs, don't you?


Dear reader, you fall into one of two groups.  Either you are laughing at my little exchange with Grown Man, or you are sitting there saying to yourself, "What's so funny?"

For the "What's so funny?" crowd, here is my little lesson:

Girl chickens are like girl people.  They have eggs.  In girl people, we have an egg about once a month and then we get rid of it.  Girl chickens get rid of their eggs every day or two.  Sometimes an egg can get fertilized by a boy chicken or a boy person.  When this happens,  a baby will grow.  In a person, the baby grows inside the mommy.  In a chicken the baby grows inside the egg.  But, in both cases, it takes a boy to make a baby.  Without the boy, the girls still have eggs.  Boys do not make the eggs, they only fertilize them.

So, the answer to the question, "You have to have a rooster to get eggs, don't you?", is a laughing, "NO!"

Of course, I didn't give the Grown Man a laughing NO.  I very calmly replied, "No.  Chickens lay eggs whether or not there are any roosters around."

Every time I am asked the rooster-egg question, I find myself attempting to answer in a way that won't cause the person to feel totally embarrassed when they get home and realize their ignorance.  They will think about all of the millions of eggs that chickens lay each day and realize that, of course, there are not roosters going around.....  you see what I mean.

They are going to feel really silly when the truth hits them.  

Scents of grandparents past

Two times in the last two days I have had memories of my grandparents wash over me while I worked in the yard.  Both times the memories were brought up by smells and both times I had a warm, loved feeling inside.

Yesterday, while I was using a pitchfork to get some hay for the chicken pen, I remembered Grandmother and Granddaddy Atkinson's hay barn.  As I pulled layers of hay from a round bale, the smell of that hay knocked me back in time.  All the way back to the mid-70's when my sisters, my cousins and I would play hide-n-seek in a barn stacked tall with square hay bales.

Today I cut the grass around a fig tree and remembered the one in Mama and Papa Skaggs' back yard.  My memory isn't so much of the figs, but of the back yard.  Always well-manicured, with a small garden and a work shed full of tools.

I wonder what smells will remind our grandchildren of us.  Maybe it will be...

Bubble bath

Chicken scratch feed

Fresh cut grass

Chicken nuggets

Chocolate Oatmeal cookies

Smoke from a fireplace

Movie popcorn

Lotion

Cabbage Patch doll heads

Pine woods while on a walk

Homemade pizza fresh from the oven

I don't know what it will be, but when a smell makes them time travel back to me, I hope they know it is the smell of love.