Reflections and Ramblings

Snow!

2012-01-02T23:30:00.001-05:00

At long last winter has arrived in Rochester! Drew is beside himself with joy. Big splatty flakes plaster the ground, the trees, the car - everywhere is pristine white! Not enough to cancel school which starts up tomorrow for Drew. But we still have today to play and be happy with a taste of winter.

Perhaps we love snow so much right now because we have been expecting it for such a long time. Perhaps because it is still novel and not impeding us from our required duties or forcing us to be indoor prisoners. I know this winter will be like all winters and eventually we will moan about the darn cold and sloppy roads and pesky bothersomeness of snow. We will sigh for spring and warmth and greenness. But not today.

Today we watch Sugar bounce around with abandon, hopping from one snowy spot to another to another, sticking out her tongue like a child and licking the brilliant coldness, then snuffling along, sneezing clouds of white into the air. We rejoice that the deadness of autumn is hidden away beneath cozy blankets of protection, awaiting renewal.

Yeah, snow! Yeah winter! Hurrah!

Happy New Year 2012

2012-01-01T23:29:00.001-05:00

Today I am privileged to be allowed to give the sermon at Community of the Savior! What a great way to start a new year. Here is the gist of what I contemplated:

20/20 Vision

[take glasses off]
When I was in the 7th grade, I began to notice that I was having difficulty seeing the blackboard in class. I used to squint my eyes to see what the teacher was writing. I sat near the blackboard. I waited until the bell rang to copy the next day’s assignment which the teacher always wrote on the blackboard. I was pretty functional. I understood what was going on in class, I could do my homework. It wasn’t so bad.

[put glasses on]
Eventually my parents caught on and took me to the eye doctor and I got my first pair of glasses. I was amazed at what I had been missing! I could see every leaf on the trees around me. I could recognize friends waving at me from the other end of the hall. It was wonderful to be able to see clearly. I am thankful for glasses.

[take glasses off]
Sometimes I wish I had glasses that would let me see clearly into the spiritual realm. There’s some pretty crazy stuff going on out there. Awhile back, people were falling on the floor laughing in the name of the Holy Spirit. Then there’s that whole ‘name it and claim it’ movement, and the healing crusades where some people get healed and others don’t.

What about the several hundred different Christian denominations out there, not to mention the differences between congregations of the same denomination – mega, seeker, contemporary, traditional, liturgical, casual. Who is right? Where is God in all of that?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could put your spiritual glasses on and look at Pittsford and see God’s salvation at work. [put glasses on] Oh, look! That’s of God. You could look at downtown Rochester – and see where God’s saving grace is at work – and it may not even be all that church connected.

More than just seeing where God is at work, we would know how we can be part of the work of the kingdom and not get ‘taken in.’ I don’t know about you, but I want to be in sync with God’s work. I want to see clearly what God’s intentions are for this area and for my life and ministry.

My desire is to be involved with work that has significant and eternal value, not just 9 to 5 time clock punching. I want to know that when I stand before God, he will say “Well done, good and faithful servant,” and that I won’t be embarrassed because I kept missing the boat. I don’t want to miss God. I want to cooperate with God at work in my world. But how do I know I am on course?

The good news is, God does want us to see his salvation at work in the world. He does want us to guide us in our work for the kingdom. God has given us lots of avenues of guidance. One of the most important is his Word. We can pray for guidance. We can talk with godly men and women we know. We have the church to teach us God’s truths.

But sometimes, even with all of that, it feels like we just can’t quite see the writing on the blackboard. Sometimes it feels like the trees are big green blobs and we can’t see the leaves clearly. How do I know when I am in sync with God’s plans?

Today, in our gospel story, we meet 2 people who clearly saw God at work in their world. They didn’t miss God. In fact, they actually saw God. Ask yourself, “If I had lived in Jerusalem when Christ was born, would I have known?” How did Simeon and Anna know where to go and what to look for? How did they come to be in sync with God’s plan of salvation? What special inside track did they have? What were their spiritual glasses made of?

First, let’s look at Anna. Anna was a ‘get up close to the blackboard’ kind of person. She spent all her time in the Temple worshiping God, praying, fasting, hearing the scriptures read – doing all those spiritually formative activities that we learn about today. Richard Foster would have been proud of Anna!

That’s the first key. We must want to see God at work in the world. We must want to know what is written on the blackboard. We must be willing to do what it takes to get close to the blackboard.

In the 1980s I lived in the Saratoga Springs area and attended a small church that taught about divine healing. There was an older woman and her adult daughter who attended faithfully. The daughter had been blind from birth. Yet she never went forward to pray for sight. One day I had an opportunity to ask her about it. She told me that she did not want to see! Imagine that! I was flabbergasted. Why on earth would anyone choose to remain blind when they might be able to see?

She explained that she would have to completely relearn how to think, how to navigate, how to live. I still didn’t understand what she meant, so she gave a few examples. I attend this church because for me it’s closer to my house. In reality, there is a closer church, but I would have to walk there. It would take me 25 minutes to navigate the 3 blocks. But in a car, I can get to this church in less than ten minutes. For me, this church is near and that church is far.

Near and far would take on completely different meanings! As would colors and faces – the reality would not match my imagined truths. I wouldn’t know who anyone is anymore. I would have to get a job – my whole life would be altered. I’m just not interested.

How does a sighted person convince a blind person that seeing is better than being blind?

That’s the second key: We must be willing to change based on what we see, even if it’s challenging.

There is much to be said for centering our lives around the things of God and getting close to God’s blackboard. Anna was willing to it. Because Anna spent time immersed in the things of God, she didn’t have to imagine what the salvation of the world would look like. She found herself at the right place at the right time and she recognized what was happening.

When Anna woke up that morning, did she feel a stirring inside? Did she know that the salvation of God would come into the Temple? Did she know she was looking for a baby and not a grown man?

I can imagine her finding a perfect vantage point, eagerly searching the faces of the crowds who came and went, people about their everyday business? With all the noise of vendors hawking their wares and animals bawling and dust flying and kids shouting and parents scolding, how did she recognize Jesus when she saw him? How did she know?

Anna was a prophetess. That meant that before the Holy Ghost had been given to the world, before Jesus was glorified, before Pentecost, before God sent the Comforter, the Teacher, the

Helper, her life intersected with the Holy Ghost. Prophets were people who were given special insight into the work of God by the Holy Spirit. I believe that the Holy Ghost guided her, helped her to see God at work in her world.

But maybe Anna is an aberration. After all, not many of us can spend every moment in the Temple! Our Scripture this morning tells us that the Holy Spirit rested on Simeon, who was not a prophet. He did not spend every waking moment in the Temple. He was a righteous and upright man. He was devout. He was immersed in spiritually formative behavior.

Verse 27 tells us that Simeon, guided by the Holy Spirit, came into the temple when the parents brought in the child Jesus for dedication.

That’s the third key: we must be willing to do what the Holy spirit tells us to do, even if it doesn’t make sense.

What would have happened if Simeon had questioned what the Holy Spirit was telling him to do? What if he had reasoned it through? He could have said, “Look, the Christ is supposed to come from Bethlehem. I should pack my things and go there, right? How does it make sense for me to go to the Temple? I have been there a hundred times and didn’t see the salvation of God.”

It reminds me of when I first got my GPS. I bought it for a cross country trip I needed to make, but I wanted to try it out around town first to see how it worked. So I plugged it in and programmed it for home when I was at the mall. I knew perfectly well how to get home. I knew a number of ways in fact. I had driven it hundreds of times. So when TomTom told me to take an exit I had never taken, I refused to believe him. I thought he was crazy or broken.

I argued with him and went my own way. Patiently, Tomtom told me to turn around at the first opportunity and go back. When it became apparent that I was not going back, he just rerouted and gave me new directions that were also not familiar to me.

I tried this on several occasions, always with the same results. Tomtom was just plain wrong. Finally, I decided to try things Tom’s way. What could it hurt? I could always find my own way home. After all, I knew the territory. Imagine my surprise when I discovered a shorter route with less traffic! Turns out Tom knew what he was talking about after all!

Simeon trusted the guidance of the Holy Ghost. He responded to that still small voice whispering to his heart. He got up, went to the Temple, searched until he found what the Spirit had told him about. He was at the right place at the right time to see God’s salvation.

Think about it. I am sure Jesus was not the only baby in Jerusalem being circumcised that day. When my first son was born, we lived in a small village with a small hospital. On the day he was to be circumcised, I wandered down to the nursery to check it out. There sat the doctor all gowned and masked, the nurses assisting. Just behind the station where he was working stood a lineup of baby beds filled with boys waiting their turn. There must have been several dozen.

Imagine what it must have been like in a big city the size of Jerusalem! There must have been many babies coming that day. How did Simeon know who to look for?

Was there a halo of light over Jesus head? Did his parents send out baby dedication announcements so Simeon and Anna would know the right day and exact time? I don’t think so. The Holy Ghost guided them. That’s how they knew. They had Holy Ghost glasses that helped them see clearly beyond the common activity of the everyday into the realm of the eternal.

Simeon held Jesus in his arms and proclaimed “Lord, I can die happy because I have seen your salvation.” He was in sync with God at work in his world. He had obeyed the Holy Spirit, and he knew he would hear “Well done, good and faithful servant.” He had not missed God.

Simeon and Anna were in sync with God’s plan because they were centered on the things of God and because they were guided by the Holy Spirit.

They wanted to see God. They were willing to change according to what they saw. They were willing to do what God asked of them. They looked at life through the lenses of daily spiritual formation and the guidance of the Holy Ghost. It was 20-20 vision.

We too can be centered on the things of God. We who have the Holy Spirit dwelling within us ought to be even more able to clearly see what God is doing in our world and to know what He is calling us to do.

The Chinese have declared 2012 the year of the dragon. I think we should declare 2012 the year of Clear Vision for God’s people.

This year, every time you put your glasses on, remind yourself to stay centered on the things of God and pray for Holy Ghost guidance.

Every time you see someone else wearing glasses, remind yourself to stay centered on the things of God and pray for Holy Ghost guidance.

Every time you take your glasses off, remind yourself to stay centered on the things of God and pray for Holy Ghost guidance.

Together let us make this a year of clear vision and great progress for the kingdom of God. Like Anna and Simeon, may we find ourselves in the right place at the right time to see the salvation of God at work in our lives, in our church, in Pittsford, in Rochester, in New York, in the United States, in the world.

Amen.

Kidney Stones

2011-12-31T23:29:00.001-05:00

Drat and bother. I get these kidney stone attacks about every 5 or 6 years. I am right on schedule. The pain started right after Christmas, but I knew just how to layer Tylenol and Advil to control the pain, plus hugging a hot water bottle helps tremendously. As long as you keep on top of it and drink gallons of water, you can stay ahead of the game.

Of all the things to have been blessed with from my father, this would not have been my first choice. I will hang on until the holidays are over, then call my primary because I don't even have a urologist in this area yet. Meanwhile, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink, drink . . .

12 Days of Christmas

2011-12-30T23:28:00.002-05:00

On each day of Christmas, the gift I gave to Christ was ~

1 heartfelt prayer (for world peace)
2 bags of food (for the food pantry)
3 handmade scarves (for the needy children in downtown Rochester)
4 prayer quilts (given to children in the hospital)
5 shoebox gifts (for poor children around the world)
6 volunteer hours (in the soup kitchen)
7 packs of tampons (for the women’s shelter)
8 quiet moments (with those who are grieving)
9 Christmas carols (sung in the nursing home)
10 pairs of socks (for the men’s shelter)
11 lighted candles (in memory of loved ones)
12 hands held (in the cancer support group)

May God be pleased with such as these.

Catching Up

2011-12-29T23:28:00.001-05:00

There are certain members of my family that I have not spoken to for awhile because I know that once we start talking, it will be a 4 hour conversation. I always feel badly when I see their number come up on my phone and I ignore it. It's nothing personal, just that I rarely have time and energy at once to handle a 4 hour conversation, as enticing as the idea may be.

Once again I find myself reduced to determining the "when" for these activities, and I have decided that this lull between semesters is an excellent time to catch up with my siblings. Each day I determine to call one person and talk as long as they want to. I clear the time with them ahead of the day so that they will also have a clear calendar to chat with no interruptions.

I set up with a glass of water, a box of tissues and an empty bladder. I call the number. We are delighted to hear each other's voices. We have no difficulty plunging in to a prolonged conversation. This works quite well. I loved catching up with news and chewing on philosophical issues and discussing the touchy politics and religion topics. It was wonderful.

Now all I need are a few more between semester breaks!

Mammogram

2011-12-27T23:27:00.001-05:00

I have been putting this off. Now I realize that I need to take care of it before my insurance clock is reset and I am back to paying the first $2600 out of my own pocket. It is easy to make the appointment. This is definitely the off season for following up on health care issues. I drive to the clinic with sadness. It is difficult to face more tests where cancer might rear its ugly head. I have no reason to think that, but the thought comes unbidden.

The women working there are wonderful and kind. They know I have cancer elsewhere in my body, so they are thorough and careful. They are pulling for me to have a normal reading. They ask if I want to wait for the results, but I decline. If there is something wrong, I have every confidence that they will not hesitate to let me know. Until such a possibility comes along, I prefer to assume that all is well.

The nurse nods, understanding. She tells me that they will send me and my doctors a letter in a week to ten days unless there is some concern. Then she makes no bones to tell me that although she is not a doctor, the scans look perfectly normal to her and she has been looking at these things for years. She gives my shoulders a squeeze hug and wishes me a Happy New Year. I smile. Kindness is everywhere. I appreciate her frankness and openness. One more health issue taken care of. Back to reading and not thinking about cancer.

Reading

2011-12-26T23:27:00.001-05:00

I am woefully behind in my reading for seminary courses. One of this semester's classes is heavy in philosophy and theological foundations. The readings are deep and complicated. You cannot just zip through skimming for big ideas. All the big ideas are packed tightly into a scant three or four hundred pages of deep rhetoric. Sigh. It is slow going. I count books. I need to basically read one book every day for the entire break. This will be challenging since some of the books, though only 300 or 400 pages, are dense.

I joke about reading until my eyes bleed. The truth is that after 2 or 3 hours of reading, I have trouble focusing on the print. They definitely used to use a very small font in days goneby (from which many of these dusty tombs come). I switch things up. I read a chapter, then do a load of laundry, then read another chapter, counting the pages, then do dishes, then read a chapter (can it be any more incomprehensible???) then walk Sugar. By evening I am so burned out I watch a mindless movie just for the change of pace. And this is only day 1. I eyeball the stack of waiting books and groan. Some holiday. Drew at least gets to sleep until noon!

Christmas Poem

2011-12-25T22:21:00.002-05:00

The Comforts of Home

I am going home.
It seems so far away.
I started down this path – was it only yesterday?

The road ahead is dark.
I cannot see the way.
If I’m still on the path, I cannot really say.

Then I look at where I’ve been
Through places dark and bright.
I’ve never been alone, even through the darkest night.

No matter what I face
How steep or rough the road
You’re always by my side to lift my heavy load.

You light my darkest night
And show me where to go
You give me strength and help, teach me all I need to know.

And so I travel on
Through places thick and thin
Knowing you will guide me beyond the mess I’m in.

When I reach home at last
And am welcomed through the door,
You’ll be waiting arms outstretched to show me even more.

Christmas Eve Services

2011-12-24T23:26:00.001-05:00

There are two services at the church where I direct choirs. The first one is family friendly and has special music provided by our accompanist and her son. I want to go, but I know if I do I will not have the energy to play for the second service - our accompanist and her son will not be able to stay for this second adult service. Besides, our choir sings at the second service. So I stay home to rest and only leave in time to practice for the second service.

It is a lovely service. True, some of our choir members are not able to join us, but for the first Christmas Eve service with the new pastor, it goes well. It is fairly well attended, lots of new faces to me. I am a bit nervous about playing the prelude and offertory, but Lourdes has loaned me a book of medium difficulty Christmas carols that I can easily play without too much practice and I am confident that I can manage. I think people were blessed.

Afterwards, I climb into the car and head home where Drew takes over the driving part. We go to his church for their 11 pm service. There is something mysterious and enticing about meeting so late at night, knowing the intention is to extend our time together until after midnight so we can wish each other Merry Christmas on Christmas Day. I love the liturgy, the readings, the carols, the company. Best part is that I don't have to lead anything and can really enjoy and enter in without thinking ahead to the next piece. How delicious to spend Christmas worship with friends and family. This is how it should be.

I find myself caught up in the candle light, thankful that no bombs are being dropped on this country, no threat of invasion looms here. We can feel peace and happiness, we can appreciate God's gift of life and light. Music surrounds me, lifts me up. I sit gratefully in a comfortable chair and remember pageants of past days, family gatherings, relatives long since gone to glory. I appreciate the company of the memories of loved ones, amused to find myself one of the grandparent generation now, able to remember people my children never met.

I smile at Drew. He is solicitous of my well being, grinning himself with happiness. He drives home. We are laughing and chatting and wishing each other Merry Christmas. He, of course, want to open a present, and I, of course, let him. It is a good year even if I won't be able to see my grandchildren. I will miss them. Perhaps next year when I am not so weak and tired and when I have a bit more funding, I will make it special for them. This year, I am just happy to be here with Drew and at peace.

Last Minute Shopping

2011-12-23T23:26:00.002-05:00

I have been whittling away at my list for the last three weeks. Every pay period allows me to check off someone else. Now I am down to 2 more people and I know exactly what I am planning to get for them. It is just a matter of dredging up the energy to battle the crowds and get these last two items (and then wrap them, of course). I took care of all the out of town presents that require mailing early on, the first round being sent at Thanksgiving time.

Today I am also taking care of getting stocking stuffers for Drew. I have not done a stocking for him for the last few years. It got so expensive. When I was a kid, I got 2 stockings - a HUGE one at my house and a normal sized one at my Grandmother's. Both were intended to keep excited children occupied and at bay while the adults either slept in or prepared the feast. I started doing just the huge stockings at home for the boys when they were young, but it became so expensive to fill them that I gave up.

Poor Drew never had the pleasure for long. Now that he is the only one left in the house, I decided it was time to provide him that experience and joy. Over the last few weeks, I have listened and tracked everything he expressed an interest in while we were out in the stores or while he was putzing around the house. I determined only to get what I could find at the dollar store - the one where everything really is only a dollar a piece. My limit is 20 items. A reasonable amount to spend on junk.

The store was crowded when I entered. Last minute shopping for lots of us I guess. There is a tremendous variety of stuff and I had so much fun wandering up and down the aisles picking out things I knew he would enjoy. From the kitchen aisle a red spatula, a coffee mug, and a white bowl scraper; from the tool aisle a screwdriver set with 20 interchangeable heads; from the toy aisle a transformer cube, a box of crayons and a truck shaped blue eraser. I remembered to get the cheap wrapping paper and a small felt stocking that would never hold all the presents. More fun when it spills out the top.

Lucky for me Drew is visiting with friends, leaving Sugar and I plenty of time to wrap all this stuff and tuck it away out of sight. Imagine the fun my Mom had doing this for 8 children! Makes your spine shiver just thinking about how each gift will bring a delighted smile to someone's face. Sort of like filling the Samaritan's Purse Shoeboxes. Oh what fun it is to wrap a stocking filled with toys!

I have to say though, I am glad the shopping is over for the season. I wish I could start in January and get presents each month - spread the labor out over time. I worry though that somehow by the time Christmas comes, the gift will no longer be appropriate. Guess I'll just have to keep putting up with the last minute scramble.

DeDecorating and Soup

2011-12-22T23:25:00.002-05:00

The college asks us to remove all the Christmas decorations before we leave for the holidays. That way, when the students return, there are no lingering reminders of the season past and they can jump into the spring semester with a clear mind. I missed the decorating party, so I am looking forward to the undecorating.

I have a hard time finding the boxes to put all the decor back into, but we finally tuck away every wise man, shepherd, snowflake and ornament. The foldable tree has been restuffed in its container and the lighted bows are packed carefully away. Yes, we have stripped the library clean, even to the collecting of the poinsettia plants which will be given to an assisted living facility.

At last we gather in the break room for the hot soup. We have decided to go easy on the pocketbooks and bring homemade soup and bread so we don't have to order out and spend money. Everyone is happy to enjoy the meal. There is virtually no one in the building and we are definitely winding down. No thought of projects or papers or research or products. Just a comfy relaxed meal with friends and family. A perfect note on which to end the year together. Pass the bread!

Setting It Up

2011-12-21T23:24:00.001-05:00

When Drew and I were at the RIT Barnes and Noble, he found an art tube that he really liked. "Can you get this for me for Christmas?" I look at him with skepticism. I will not likely be back here before Christmas, nor will I have time to shop when you are not with me. If I get it now with you here watching, what kind of surprise will that be? My mind races for a solution.

"This is the only one up there." OK. That settles it. I purchase the tube and Drew carries it to the car himself, delighted with the unique skinny bag they wrapped it in. I leave it in the trunk of the car. One night when Drew was out, I snuck the tube into the house and hid it in plain sight in my cedar chest which serves as my coffee table. I am pretty sure he will not look there, but I bury it beneath several blankets just in case.

I decide to send him on a wild goose chase, so I write 3x5 cards with clues on them and tuck the initial clue in an envelope and place it in the branches of the Christmas tree. Drew discovers the envelope marked To Drew From Santa and tries to figure out what's in it. Too small for a gift card. Who is it from? "Not me," I say since Drew basically bought the present for himself. He is stymied.

For days he agonizes about the envelope, curiosity almost getting the better of him. I do not relent. It's good for him to learn patience, though the suffering part is a bit hard not to laugh about. I have tucked the rest of the clues in my underware drawer. I am certain he will not look in there! On Christmas Day, I will have plenty of time to place the clues in their proper place. Drew is unlikely to be up early even if we do plan to go to church!

This is fun! I can't wait to see Drew's reaction.

Advent Chapel

2011-12-20T23:24:00.001-05:00

Seminary Chapel for Advent is offered twice this week. It so happens I am meeting with my spiritual mentor one of those days, and I can stay afterwards to attend. What joy! How often does one have the opportunity to worship with a dozen or more pastors!

The chapel is intimate, cozy, filled with comforting icons of things peace-filled, uplifting, Godly. The space invites breathing and slowing down, opening one's heart for things eternal. Especially during what can often be a hectic holiday season, it is important to intentionally slow down and check in with things important. I welcome the time of silence as we gather our thoughts and hearts.

We slowly read Scripture about the coming Christ. We light a candle to remind ourselves that Christ is the light of the world. We sing together - what a rare treat to hear so many men, their deep resonance reverberating off the walls and windows. I stop singing myself just to listen. It's better than my CD of the Seminary men's choir (not from our seminary).

We pray together, for our concerns and joys, for our community, for global issues. My head lifts out of my own situation. In perspective, I have it easy. I give thanks for the goodness of God so evident in my life. We linger there in the presence of God and each other pervaded by the thoughts of others, of the world, of the saving work of the tiny baby who came to relieve the suffering and hardships of all.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow. We sing a final hymn and quietly make our way back out into the crazy hectic world from which we stepped aside. We remember those who waited so long for the initial coming of Christ. We join those still waiting. In the midst of the hubbub, we remind ourselves of the return of Christ, a hope we hold dear in these uncertain days.

Empty Library

2011-12-19T21:23:00.000-05:00

Wow. With exams complete and graduation over here (same weekend as the one at Concordia) the place is practically empty. Some of our staff have left for home as well. It will be a hard Christmas for some, being the first Christmas after the loss of a parent or a year when a parent or child is struggling with issues of one sort or another.

Those of us still holding down the fort are hard pressed to cover all the bases that students normally cover. We valiantly carry on despite the lack of hands to help. Our decorations shine cheerfully through the windows as we jump into projects that have needed our attention for awhile. We run reports and clean up our database issues and turn things off for the break.

Again this year the institution graciously gives us the week between Christmas and New Year off with pay as a gift. I am grateful for their generosity. While it seems strange not to be teeming with activity, I am happy for a bit of a break. I am just thankful we close at 5 these days and not at 9 pm. Long project packed days in the darkness of winter are less than enticing.

Chime Choir Lunch

2011-12-18T21:44:00.001-05:00

The Saints played in service today - a beautiful and moving rendition of What Child Is This. They did a marvelous job including the dramatic ending where we ring our chimes in a certain order and then freeze with our chimes in the air, holding still until the vibrations cease. Then we lower them together slowly. Nice. Very nice.

After service we practiced the piece we will ring in January (we won't get many rehearsals inbetween due to the holidays and people being away, etc.). Then we headed west on Buffalo to a wonderful diner to share a meal together. The hostess put us in a separate room around a large table. How appropriate that the room was decorated with Christmas bells! Conversations were punctuated with laughter and boisterous comments. A delightful way to get to know each other better.

Stories abound about travel to other countries and memories of Christmas from our past. Orders are taken and soon the steaming plates of good food arrive amidst cheery smiles and lip smacking. I ordered the meatloaf and my plate was laden with 2 huge slices of homemade meatloaf covered with ketchup, a mound of mashed potatoes with just the right dollop of gravy, and a dish of cottage cheese - all things I can eat though much more than I will be able to handle today!

My attention alternated between conversations nearby and discussions at the other end of the table. I caught snatches of numerous tales, all of them interesting and memorable. Time just flies by and too soon it is time to head home. I am suddenly exhausted. I clutch my Styrofoam box with a whole other dinner left over from my heaping plate and manage to scoop myself into the car to head out. What a wonderful afternoon filled with friendship and camaraderie! I look forward to our next outing.

Missed It

2011-12-17T21:43:00.002-05:00

After 7 long years of persistent poking, I finally managed to complete my Master of Church Music degree. Concert service was in the spring, comprehensive exams and orals accomplished in June, dissertation approved and submitted late summer. At long last I have completed the requirements and earned the degree. Commencement was today.

I had made all the arrangements to go, ordered my gown and hood, filled out the requisite forms. But the closer I got to the date, the more I realized that it wasn't going to happen. My energy levels are not quite where they need to be, I am dealing with 3 more broken teeth, I have had to pay for some unexpected things and my budget is just too tight.

With so many potential roadblocks, I just didn't have the oomph to undertake the journey. Seems to be my MO. I missed my graduation for my Master of Library Science degree too - well I should say I attended that virtually. Still, its not the same as being there.

Reluctantly I emailed my advisers and told them I would not be coming. They both sent encouraging emails of support and asked me to stay in touch, which I will. I suppose the ceremony is sort of anti-climactic in a way because the real work, the continued planning of the dvd for cancer patients puts to use much of what I have learned and experienced during my program.

Instead, I spent the day at home resting and spending time with Drew. We did mail a box to North Carolina for Christmas but other than that, just took it easy. I was supposed to see the dentist, but he cancelled. Just as well. I am not up to having bare roots pulled out of my head today.

Christmas Cards

2011-12-16T21:42:00.002-05:00

Addressing Christmas cards is a humbling and enlightening experience. Humbling because you suddenly realize how blessed you are to have friends and family and how fortunate you are to have time, energy, and resources to participate in this activity of connection. Enlightening because you find that people have moved or gotten married or had some change happen that affects your address book in some major way.

I sat in the chair by the lighted Christmas tree with Sugar curled up at my feet. Gathered about me were boxes of cards, address labels (with snowmen and elves and ornament designs) and stamps (the Nativity one this year). First I made out cards to my family. That took half a box. Then to friends. By the time I had finished, I was humming Christmas carols. Yes, the season this year is shaping up nicely despite the financial crunch. Now all I need is a nutmeggy cup of eggnog.

Winding Down

2011-12-15T21:24:00.001-05:00

We all thought that the Library would be basically empty today and that the semester would gradually wind down. Sure, we expected a handful of students finishing papers and studying for that one last exam tomorrow. Instead, the place is packed. We seem to be running full tilt.

There is a lot of chatter and conversation and energy. Groups are studying for exams, papers are visible on monitors, the printers are pushing out reams of paper and the coffee is flowing freely. all the spaces are filled and then some. Lone students wander about seeking a place to settle in.

It seems to get busier the later in the day we are. If today is so busy, I can't imagine what tomorrow will bring. And here I thought I would have no trouble parking! Guess again.

Packed Day

2011-12-14T21:20:00.001-05:00

I didn't plan it this way. It sort of happened. My calendar tells me that I have commitments from 8 in the morning until after 9 at night. And they are constant. I wonder if I shall have time in there to sip a bit of tea or take a breath!

This is one of those days when I begin with "Lord, I cannot do this" and end with "Thank you God for getting me through it all without falling apart." Everything I am doing is enjoyable on its own. But the amalgamation of it all is overwhelming. I never know if I will have enough strength to keep going. Somehow I always do, but I am clearly aware that it is not my doing that gets me through.

My parents tell me that after retirement their schedules got busier and busier. I hope that will not be the case for me (not that I plan to retire). I am learning now to build space into my schedule so I do not wear myself to a frazzle. Most of the time that works fine. Except for days like today when my life seems to be controlled by others. Lord protect us from the tyranny of the daytimer.

Rose Miscarriage

2011-12-13T21:22:00.001-05:00

With all the warm weather we have been having, the sturdy rose bush by our front door decided to send out another blossom. A tiny rosebud appeared the other day, developing into a deep pink blushing promise of yet another gorgeous flower. I was concerned the moment I saw it. How can it hope to last if the winter weather comes? It is out of sync with time. But I hope with it. I hope for it.

But alas! The night temperature drops and the poor little rosebud does not open. It stays tightly folded, hanging on for dear life against the frigid air. It will not open. It will remain forever a bud, like some miscarriage of the natural order of things. I know these things happen. But I am saddened at the loss, at what will never be. I stand long moments before its shriveled pinkness, sorry to see it cut down before it began.

Like so many women, I have been touched by the sadness of miscarriage. I think of it from time to time, of what might have been. I share this experience with women across time and cultures, a bond that needs no words to forge, a tinge of sorrow that colors our lives in many unnoticed ways, forming us, shaping our response to the hurts of this life. Though my event was many years ago, the effect lingers.

Perhaps that is why I notice such things as tiny rosebuds that never see the light of the sun and stop to appreciate what might have been.

Poinsettias

2011-12-12T22:23:00.002-05:00

I forgot that after the Christmas brunch the flowers that decorated the tables in Garlock so festively come to the library. What a delightful lift of spirits to see all the bright red and soft white plants wrapped in their gold and green foil pots.

We had put up the library Christmas tree, nativity, big red bows, and huge lighted wreath back at Thanksgiving time. And those decorations always look grand, especially when you view the lighted tree housed in the Fireside Reading Room from out in the parking lot.

But the flowers add just that much more festivity to the place. I don't know if the students are aware of it, or even the rest of the staff. But I sure appreciate these plants and the cheerful countenance they present. It makes me want to greet everyone with a joyful "Merry Christmas."

Christmas Cantata

2011-12-11T23:21:00.001-05:00

Today is the day the choir will sing our Christmas cantata. People are a bit nervous. Despite our extra rehearsal, they have that that "if only we had one or two more rehearsals, we would know it better" feeling. I often have felt that way when I was singing with a choir. You never think you have had enough time with the music - unless its something you have sung repeatedly in the past. And it has been some number of years since the choir has done this cantata.

The whole service revolves around hearing what they angels were singing about. We bookend our cantata with Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Angels We Have Heard On High. A sort of 'listen up' then 'did you hear?' The cantata went very well, especially the men's piece. Lots of congregation members told me they truly enjoyed it, and that it sent shivers down their spines. I think the choir is relieved that it is over.

Truly, the best part for me is that this music is whirling around inside, lifting up my spirits and bringing joy. I think it will stay with me for some time.

Christmas Brunch

2011-12-10T22:20:00.001-05:00

Drew has been asking about the date for the annual Roberts Christmas Brunch. The first year I had to practically force him to go. Now he can hardly wait. He loves the whole event from the delicious food (especially the canolis) to the family Christmas picture taking to chatting with all the people he has come to know. And then there is the free Roberts tee shirt - this year a pretty cheerful blue.

We turn in our mittens for those who have none, fill in our name tags, and head for the serving line. I love the Belgian waffles with toppings. Drew prefers the bacon and eggs. The best part is bumping into friends and colleagues and chatting. We linger over our plates, watching the line for the photo taking. Drew is wearing his Angry Birds hat and gets lots of comments. He plans to wear it for our picture, posing with his arms crossed and his attitude showing.

Time flies by. We miss some people who have not been able to come, and meet others we did not expect to see. 2 hours is a short time to fellowship with family, but totally worth it to see the big grin on Drew's face. As we leave Garlock, he is singing a Christmas carol. I do believe he has caught the Christmas spirit!

FedEx Dud

2011-12-09T21:22:00.001-05:00

Mom had embroidered 2 angel squares that did not fit in my wall hanging. I decided to add some calligraphy to each of them and have them framed for my 2 grand daughters in North Carolina - a joint present from Mom and me. I spent considerable time at the framing store selecting just the right color and frame type to set them off (great deal considering I had a coupon for 75% off - but even then it cost a pretty penny).

At last they were ready to be picked up. They came out beautifully - something the girls will treasure in time. I asked the artist about the best way to mail them out. She gave me some special packing materials, but cautioned that I ought to cover them with plenty of peanuts and bubble wrap. Hum. Where to get the right box and all that wrapping material? I decided to head to the FedEx store near my place. After a small wait, I stepped up to the counter and explained my project to the woman. Her response?

An unbelievable "Geez, I have no idea. I guess you should use a lot of bubble wrap."

That was the best she could do! I plied her with questions, but although she mentioned a number of box types and items they sell, she basically told me I didn't want to use them. Now totally frustrated, I asked her where I could go to get the kinds of things she was suggesting (special kinds of bubble wrap etc.). She allowed that there were FedEx shipping centers that would help me, but they were, in her words, "way over on the east side of the city. You won't want to drive all the way over there." What???!!!

I could not even get her to tell me the addresses of these places. Either she was new or stupid, I couldn't decide which one. Finally, I asked her point blank to tell me one address. She hemmed and hawed and kibbutzed and eventually allowed that there was one on Jefferson Road near 390S. I thank her and headed out, shaking my head. If her boss ever heard that conversation he would likely fire her on the spot! She certainly had a strange idea of what good customer service is.

After driving the short distance to the center, I climbed out of the car with my precious pictures and headed inside. We stood waiting until the clerk was free. I explained my situation. He said "We can do that." and took the pictures to a large table behind the counter. He had a special box, all the wrap and tape necessary and in less than ten minutes, I paid the bill and was happy to note that they were on their way, professionally wrapped and insured. That was easy.

Maybe I should suggest that the other woman take a field trip and see how its supposed to be done!

Pulmonologist

2011-12-08T23:51:00.001-05:00

Once again I find myself sitting in another specialist's office when the symptoms that I intermittently experience are not present. I have a wonderful in depth conversation with a fellow/intern who explores all of my cancer journey and the medications I have taken over the last 8 years. He asks many questions, jotting down notes here and there, then disappears to consult with the head honcho. Carbon copy of my visit with the neurologist, except looking at lungs.

These tests are easier. I am asked to exhale into a machine, to walk up and down the hall for ten minutes rapidly while hooked to an oxygen level monitor, then to repeat the exhale tests into another machine. Once again the amazing report that I am healthy as an ox lung-wise and nothing to worry about.

They are quite concerned about the amount of toxic chemicals I have ingested. They comment a number of times that its important to continue monitoring for lung damage because if they can catch something like that early, it will be easier to treat. To be on the safe side, they decide to do an in-home monitor of oxygen levels to see if they can replicate the issue that the sleep doctor mentioned, but otherwise, not to worry. Great!

I am beginning to think I have the A-Bomb Disease. I recently read a book about the survivors of Hiroshima. Seems there is a section of the brain that is affected by the massive doses of radiation that makes them think they are continually susceptible to bodily degradation due to being in the blast. Many people actually die of what they think are organ issues when in fact, their hearts or lungs or livers are perfectly healthy despite their traumatic exposure to radiation. Really what the radiation caused other than hair and teeth falling out was cancer, especially leukemia.

So there you have it. I have seen every conceivable specialist, and there is nothing to be concerned about. They will continue to monitor because the possibility of damage is real, but seems I have some kind of internal protection so far. Thank God! Now if I can just get the fatigue under better control, I should be hunky-dory.

Man Down

2011-12-07T22:37:00.000-05:00

I was minding my own business driving north on Long Pond Road when it happened. Some elderly gentleman walking along the sidewalk took a nasty fall. I saw him go down. His feet flew up in the air and he landed with a wham. I thought he must have hit a patch of black ice and slipped. His face was a mask of pain and hurt and he was clutching his arm. He must have smacked his head hard against the concrete walk.

I couldn't slam on the brakes in traffic, but I was very concerned. He was walking alone. What if he had a heart attack and that's why he fell? What if he broke something? I pulled around the block at the first possible opportunity and headed back towards where it happened. I prayed for him while I was circling back.

When I got to the place, there was no sight of the man. Whew! I hope he is OK, but if he got up and kept going, he must be alright. I pulled into the next street and turned around again. If I fell, I would like to think someone would take time to come see if I were alright. Even if they don't know me.

That frozen moment of agony sticks with me. For one brief instant I felt someone else's pain. How often do I pass people in pain and I don't even see that they are hurting? Really, I need to be more observant. People shouldn't have to fall in front of me to get my attention!

Thinking of Michael

2011-12-06T22:27:00.004-05:00

Today is my son Michael's day of birth. He would have been 33 today. How can he possibly have been gone for 23 years?? I suspect he is having a wonderful time, he and Dad, doing whatever it is they do in heaven. Every Christmas I try to put something at his gravesite, and to think of some special event or task to do in his honor and memory.

Usually I don't have any trouble finding some service project or charity opportunity that I silently chalk up to my #2 son. He was a tough and exuberant child, unmindful of rules and restrictions. He loved life fully and lived it like no one I have ever known.

Why do I try to do some kindness in his name? After Michael died, I was so surprised to be visited by people who lived in our apartment complex, people I had never met and did not know. But Michael knew them. He was apparently quite social and friendly (and not surprisingly). They came to tell me how Michael had helped them so often. The young mother with several small children whom Michael had entertained. The older woman with the dog that Michael walked for her - every afternoon. The elderly couple for whom Michael took out the garbage twice a week.

I could hardly believe my ears. I couldn't get Michael to take out our garbage or entertain his younger brothers or (if we had a dog) walk our pet. He was always outside running around the neighborhood. I could scarcely get him to come in for dinner! Not until after he was gone did I realize how unique he was for a boy of ten. And now I realize also unique because many adults are not naturally given to goodness and helpfulness and neighborliness.

Well, this year I have yet to settle on something appropriate. I am sure something will become apparent. I just haven't encountered the right thing yet. Not that I lack opportunities to do something good. Just that nothing has seemed the right thing. I have no doubt that I find something perfect.

Meanwhile, I remember his sunny smile and joie de vivre and I am blessed.

Simulcast

2011-12-05T21:28:00.001-05:00

One of my favorite choirs is the St Olaf Choir under the direction of Dr. Anton Armstrong. Their sound is inviting, their diction superb, their affect enjoyable and moving. They sing songs that I enjoy including many styles and varieties and they have fun doing it. I recently saw and heard them perform right here at Roberts Wesleyan College in our Cultural Life Center. I was not disappointed. The evening was like indulging in a decadent chocolate dessert. Delicious!

Every Christmas season for the last 100 years (!) they have presented a Christmas concert which (since sometime in the 1980's I think) has been televised every few years. Since I had the privilege of attending a summer workshop there 2 years ago, I met and sang under the various directors, learning much from their tips and teachings. When I found out that their Christmas concert this year would be simulcast in various theaters, I immediately looked to see if Rochester was included. Yes - in 3 different theaters.

I was so delighted that I splurged and got a ticket. Just like a child impatient for Christmas to arrive, I looked forward to the day (yesterday) and time of the event with great anticipation. I was a bit disappointed that the theater where I attended, Tinseltown, was not crowded at all. There were only a handful of us in attendance. I got all the joy of the concert without the hassle of wrestling with crowds and traffic! I settled back in my cozy comfy seat, closed my eyes, and drank in the fabulous repertoire which just rolled out of the 500+ student musicians so seemingly effortlessly.

Here is the program they presented:
http://www.stolaf.edu/christmasfest/2011program.pdf

You should be able to order a DVD of the event at some point - which is totally worth the investment. I hope they continue to make this option available. I would travel there if I could, but alas! I cannot do that very often. What a joy for a musician to be able to enjoy a concert rather than to work so hard to produce one! Now that you know this is possible, I encourage you to check it out next year. Attend a theater near you and have a cup of holiday cheer. It's delightful.

Another Sermon

2011-12-04T21:28:00.002-05:00

Pastor Will has graciously allowed me the opportunity of preaching in service this morning. Not only that, but he has taken me on as a coaching internship. What an amazing gift of kindness and friendship! I look forward to growing in my ability to preach, even though I am not headed for a position as a pastor. Still, when called upon, I would like to do the very best possible. I do not take it lightly to present the Word of God to anyone!

So here is the sermon I presented:

Sermon: To Move a Mountain
Scriptures Isaiah 40:1-11; 2 Peter 3:8-15a; Mark 1:1-8; Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
I suspect that John the Baptist and Isaiah were both a little crazy. Think about this morning’s Scripture readings. What did Isaiah mean when he said “every valley shall be lifted up and every mountain and hill be made low?” What kind of power does it take to level a mountain and fill in a valley?

Here’s one way to do that (show volcano video http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=CgpNqrR318U ). How would you describe that?

[get responses and make the following points:

Powerful
terrifying
traumatic
cataclysmic
irrevocable
messy
destructive ]

When you think about a volcanic eruption like this one, there is a timeline of events that occurs. It looks something like this (this was accompanied by pictures of volcanoes in the various stages described):

Things happen underground; Specialists feel tremors and see signs
First signs of activity
Full eruption
Secondary eruptions
Activity subsides / Clean up of surface
Things still rumbling underground
Final disposition

There are other ways to move a mountain besides earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. It still takes a lot of energy and power, it’s still messy and difficult, it still destroys a lot of stuff and takes a long time, but if someone wanted to get rid of a mountain, they could use TNT and blasting equipment and big earth moving Caterpillars, like construction crews use to make roads.

Think about what it took to create I-90, our NYS Thruway. To construct a mere 500 miles of superhighway, it cost $600 million in the 1950’s and took decades to complete. Construction companies used all kinds of destructive forces to create man made channels through stone mountains to make it easier for cars to drive – they made the path ‘straighter, less hilly.’ This past summer they began a $100 million reconstruction project to fix just a few miles of that highway. On top of all the things we said before, it is also tremendously costly to move mountains and fill in valleys.

Even doing it slowly with road construction, it still follows our timeline of mountain moving events in many ways. They talk, raise money, do studies, get engineers involved all before the first shovel of dirt is moved.

When Isaiah says that we need to prepare for the coming of the Lord by “making straight in the desert a highway for our God!” what was he talking about? How is blowing up mountains and moving the rubble into the valleys something that will bring us comfort??!! What mountain are we moving and why?

Let’s look at the context in which this was spoken. Israel was going into captivity in Babylon. All hope for freedom and prosperity was gone. They were being punished for their lack of obedience to God. On the eve of this devastation, Isaiah speaks a word they could take comfort in. It will not always be like this, he says. A time will come when the Lord will bring deliverance, with might he will overcome their bondage. It will be messy and painful, but God promised to do it.

Isaiah’s prophecy talks about much more than one discreet moment in time. God’s promise of deliverance began in the Garden of Eden. When Adam and Eve disobeyed, sin brought bondage. It affected the entire created world. No longer was everything perfect. Suddenly there was a wall between God and humanity. The wall was too high, too long, too deep to get around. Remember that song?

So high, can’t get over it.
So deep, can’t get under it.
So wide, can’t get around it.
O, bless my soul.

The mountain of sin would have to be destroyed. Isaiah’s prophecy fits into a similar kind of timeline which you could think about like this (each listed under the same picture used above, indicating the same stage):

Garden of Eden – Sin
Old Testament Prophecies
Incarnation
Crucifixion & Resurrection
Early Church
Present Day
Second Coming & Judgment

How will God destroy the mountain that separates humanity from God? What is his tool of choice to make straight the path of salvation? He chose the most powerful weapon of all: Love.

This weapon came in the most unexpected package. In his infinite wisdom, with his vast power and wisdom, in his magnificent omnipotence, he crammed the incredible magnitude of God in all God’s glory and power into a single human cell. He took the infinite and placed it in a microscopic bit of flesh and tucked it in a dark womb.

This speck of divinity, this power beyond anything we could imagine was harnessed by bone and sinew and muscle. Imagine what it took to accomplish that! It was the visible sign of the earth-shaking mountain-moving restoration of God’s children.

Did you ever wonder why the Bible talks about what John the Baptist wore? What difference did it make that he worn a camel hair shirt with a leather belt? I have always been bothered by that. How incongruous. Who would go listen to a crazy person who wore clothes that intentionally irritated his body as a type of enforced discipline and penance for sin?

I wonder if we can see something symbolic in that. John came to prepare the way for Jesus. Perhaps this was his way of showing how difficult it must have been for the creator to put on creation, for the divine to be clothed in humanity. Can we for a moment grasp how Jesus must have felt when he took on human form?

What an incredible sacrifice to willing put on flesh. It was costly for him to become a baby. We think that Jesus’ sacrifice began on the cross. But I think it began at the moment of conception. I think it began with the incarnation.

When we think of a baby, we think of holding a newborn after it has gone through the trauma of being born. Hold a baby in your arms. Look into its precious face. See a quiet, sweet little face filled with peace and contentment. How adorable.

We forget all the agony it took for that baby to arrive! They don’t call it labor for nothing. Ask any women who has had a child. She will tell you how hard and painful it is. Mary was no different. She didn’t just miraculously blink and tah-dah! A perfect baby. She felt the pain of labor, she sweated. She groaned. She pushed. It was a messy process.

Having a baby is traumatic. It’s cataclysmic. It’s irrevocable. It’s terrifying. Just like moving a mountain. Think how being born must feel to all babies. Jesus went through that with far more impact than any human child.

Being born is not fun. How do I know? What do babies do immediately after they are born? They CRY! If being born were a joyful experience, babies would laugh great big belly laughs of joy. But they don’t - they cry. Jesus cried.

Did the angels scream in horror as they watched the torture and agony, the hurt and pain Jesus was enduring in being born? No! They did what we do when a baby is born. They CELEBRATED! They called all the relatives (think shepherds, think wisemen) – hey look – it’s a baby!

Jesus was so much more than just a baby. He was relief for a sin torn world. After centuries of suffering and sin and bondage, Jesus’ birth was the first eruption, the first tangible sign that God was at work restoring our fellowship with Him. Jesus’ birth was part of the process of creating a smooth and level highway by which the world can return to God. Jesus POWER erupts in the incarnation, set free by the pain of delivery.

Crazy John broke with Temple tradition to offer a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin. Up until then, sin was taken care of by placing your hand on the head of a lamb, transferring your sin to the animal, and then killing the lamb. Why did John tell people that they could repent of their sin not through the sacrifice of lambs but with washing of the water.

Why water? How do you know when a baby is about to make an appearance? The pregnant woman’s water breaks. When Jesus was born, the delivery process for the whole world began. So there was John, and water, and promise of deliverance all wrapped up in the power and pain and trauma of Jesus’ divine human birth.

The priests of the Temple thought John was just a crazy person, but John had felt the tremors of the earthquake that was about to hit. He knew how traumatic, how cataclysmic, how irrevocable the upcoming events would be. “Get ready!” he shouted. The Promise is coming. Behold, believe and be baptized! Mountains are moving. The walls of sin and death are tumbling!!! He knew the incarnation was full eruption and that the crucifixion and resurrection were not far behind.

Isaiah’s words looked forward not just to the manger, but on beyond to the second coming. We still look forward to Christ’s return. There’s more to come. Are we ready? Have we prepared ourselves for this final cataclysmic earth-shaking event? Are we making our own paths straight through repentance and growing in the grace of God?

II Peter 3:10 tells us
“But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare.

Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming.

That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat. But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells.

So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him.”

What kind of people ought we to be? Not hunkering down on the side of Mt St. Helena assuming that the worst is over and we are safe. The grass has grown over the destruction and we can get comfortable. We ought to always be aware of that final coming earthquake.

Isaiah and John call us to make straight our path by living holy and godly lives and to make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him.

May it be so in our lives this Advent season.

Cantata Rehearsal

2011-12-03T21:29:00.001-05:00

Wow! I can't believe it is already December and our church choir cantata is just a few weeks away! We have just finished reading through the entire work but not really begun the serious shaping and tuning needed. Yikes!

Granted, this is one that the choir has sung before. The title is Angel's Joy by Don Innes. It has wonderfully singable melodies and comfy harmonies. The range is well within easy-to-reach levels and the words are not challenging. It harks back to a gentler, kinder era when music was sweet and pretty.

Today is our regularly scheduled weekend rehearsal. My goal is to work for the first hour in sectionals so we make sure all the pitches and timings are correct. Then we will take a short break to view the slides that will show while we are singing (since the choir doesn't get a chance to see them while we are presenting the cantata), and then come together for the second hour to work on shaping and phrasing and dynamics and all those other aspects that make printed notes into engaging music.

While we are practicing, members of the congregation are decorating the church for the Advent / Christmas season. They put up and decorate trees, hang greenery and angels and ornaments in hallways and the fellowship hall as well as the sanctuary. The place looks wonderful and festive! Perfect timing for our musical offering.

Today we make excellent progress. Next Thursday we will work on the woman's piece (a sweet lullaby) and the men's piece (we three kings of course), then sing the whole cantata from, as my Grandmother used to say, "tither to yon," a saying that cracked up my alto section. OK, pillar to post. Or beginning to end. Or here to there. Or however else your colloquialisms take your fancy! Any way you say it, we will sing the whole enchilada.

Snow!!!

2011-12-02T22:49:00.003-05:00

Can you believe it? The first real snow of the season. We have had a few flakes in the air before today, but not a white sky of dancing flakes! It almost feels like winter is here. Of course, it doesn't stick to the ground or make driving all that difficult.

What is there about first snowfalls that delights us so? Is it still the memory of a day off from school, the freedom we used to get from the daily drudgery and the plodding normality of day to day life that we recall? That doesn't happen for adults. We still get to go to work for the most part unless its absolutely horrible out. AND we have to drive in the slippery stuff. No vacation in that.

Is it the covering of all the bleak browns and bare trees with such pristine clean whiteness that appeals? Perhaps, but the snow does not stay pristine for long. Add the sand and salt from the road crews and soon enough white turns dingy and ugly. Could it be the cleansing of bugs and germs and bacteria that lifts our hearts? I hardly think that cause for outward joy, benefits notwithstanding.

So what IS it that makes us smile and fills us with happiness when the snow first begins to fall? Maybe it is a throw back to when life revolved around the seasons of the year. One worked hard in the spring preparing the fields and planting. Summer brought the back breaking labor of weeding and hoeing and watering. Fall meant hours of harvesting and preserving, picking, bending and carting heavy loads. But winter! Ah, winter is when you hunker down indoors by the blazing fire and mend your gear. It is leisure well deserved and a time of being at rest.

Maybe that is what we instinctively feel when those first few flakes begin to fall. The full larder, the abundance of our labor safely stored, the let-up in toil, the comfort of hearth and home. Yes, I think that must be it - our primitive recognition of times past, of the orderliness of creation, of traditions long observed.

Still, I can't help thinking how sparkly and pretty it all is in spite of the fact that my larder is not driven by seasons but by paychecks.

You've Got Your Nerve

2011-12-01T22:49:00.002-05:00

Mostly I spoke with the intern in the neurologist's office. She chatted with me for quite awhile, taking down my history, documenting my symptoms, asking questions. It felt good to be able to say "here's what's going on, here is why I think it is happening, here are my concerns." I gave my spiel about believing that most of what I am experiencing is from the many years of treatment - after all, you can't keep taking toxins and being radiated without some effect.

I told her that I was well aware that my symptoms come and go, and that in the overall grand scheme of things, weren't really all that big a deal. Just that I don't want something to get out of hand and end up in a mess when I could have prevented it. Especially considering that sometimes my legs feel like lead weights and just don't move well. She understood and assured me that it was entirely right and appropriate for me to track what is going on even if there is nothing of concern at the moment. I relax a bit. She steps out to connect with the doctor.

He agrees that we should run the nerve tests, but nothing full scale or overwhelming. Just a check in to see where things lie. I am shown to a testing room. The technician has me lie on the bed while she revs up the machine. She places a warm pad on my right leg which feels wonderful, especially considering that for the next 10 minutes, she will be using her 'cattle prod' to send electric shocks down my leg to activate the nerves - 3 in particular. Yikes! Thank goodness I didn't get the full 9 yard treatment!

I get the results right away. Same as last time I had this test over a year ago. Some neuropathy. I could take something for it if I want to, but neither the doctor nor I see any reason to take yet another drug when I can control the symptoms with movement and on the really bad days, Tylenol. So he agrees, but wants to see me again in 6 months. The one thing he puzzles over is that Rituxan is not really known for causing nerve damage, but that is all I am getting, and I do experience the neuropathy when getting the Rituxan. So he wants to keep touch.

OK. I feel like that woman who spent all that she had on doctors and was none the better for it! At some point I am going to pull the plug and stop all this crazy running around. Happy December.

2 Candles

2011-11-30T22:00:00.001-05:00

This year I placed both of my electric candles in the kitchen window, plugged them in, and decided to leave them on 24/7. Something about this year's Christmas season seems to call for something beyond our normal activities. I sense it everywhere I go. I find it difficult to believe that I am the only one who seeks more from this year. Perhaps all of us are tired of the economic falderal and the downsizing of life. Maybe this year we crave not the shopping and the glare of harsh neon, but the true down to earth basics of love and goodwill.

Oh, I have heard stories of bad behavior among shoppers. But what I see more of this year than in previous years is that desire to reconnect with people who are part of your sphere. To spend time with family and friends, to "do" the traditional actions of decorating a tree and hanging lights not because you have to, but because you want to spend time with people doing something memorable. Even Rahway Street, the icon of miniature golf course decor, has engaged more homes in the display of lights this year - and with less of that commercial 'my lights are bigger than your lights' attitude.

We want to go back to the good old days when life was enjoyable and one could actually retire in peace and the children all came for the day to see the grandparents. We want to move past the uncertainty of the times, beyond the bad job market and the instability of an unpredictable future. And the only way we know of to accomplish that is to hang more lights. Blot out the darkness.

Let the soft glow of colored lights bring us some small measure of vision in the dark times. Let the consolation of connection with loved ones (and yes, even the not so loved ones) assuage our fear of finding ourselves left out in the dark while the rest of the world is inside celebrating. Let the love of Christ pour over us now in the same powerful way that it did so many years ago in a little town, in a stable, in a manger.

Yes, I shall leave my 2 lighted candles on for the duration. Every time I come home, they cheer me up. Every time I leave home, they give me strength to face whatever I am doing. In the middle of the night when I wake, the soft glow of the candles comforts my heart and dispels any disturbing dreams. May the lights at your house do so too.

Winter Fog

2011-11-29T21:29:00.001-05:00

Swaddled. Isn't that a peculiar word? Sort of a combination of cuddled and swathed. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the verb "to swaddle" as "To wrap round with bandages; to envelop with wrappings; to swathe, bandage." Mostly the reference people know is about Jesus in the manger being wrapped in swaddling clothes, but the more common usage is to swaddle a corpse with linen cloths. How apropos. It is also used to describe dressing a wound. Hum.

All that to say that the world this morning is swaddled in fog. The air is fuzzy and out of focus. It's enough to give you a headache. Sometimes it is a comfort to be enclosed and covered with the soft white mist. Other times it feels very restrictive. One wants to know what is coming! I suppose for a baby fresh from the confines of the womb, it is comforting to feel the closeness of swaddling cloths. Helps them know the boundaries and that they are not adrift in a huge unknown.

It doesn't take long before you want to be able to move your arms and legs, before you long to bust out of the confines of the swaddling clothes the better to explore the wide and wonderful world. Maybe that's where it hits for the corpse. Longing to slip the confines of this earth for wider spaces. Wanting the fog of this world to be lifted to reveal the eternal. To explore the wide and wonderful beyond.

At any rate, Sugar and I both agree that we want to get back inside out of the damp swirling fog. Neither of us expected such weather in late November. Winter is certainly acting oddly this year.

Back to Work

2011-11-28T21:23:00.000-05:00

Monday. After a holiday and a break. I expect it will be busy, but the parking lot is half empty. Perhaps students have delayed returning, unwilling to give up their relaxation time - or not eager to jump back into assignments and paperwriting. Several staff are still out, some not feeling well, others not back yet.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the morning is quiet. I get a few questions at the reference desk, nothing earth shattering. I catch up with email, always a task needing attention.

I change the liturgical decor in my office since I was not there the Wednesday before Thanksgiving when we normally make that change. I like my tapestry of the annunciation and my nativity snow globe. Next week I will move to the actual nativity tapestry too, but I don't want to miss the importance of Mary's acquiescence even though that was some nine months ago.

And so the day unwinds, slowly and lethargically like honey that refuses to come out of the bottle. I kind of like easing back into things gently. A nice relief from the usual jolt.

Carting About

2011-11-27T21:06:00.000-05:00

I have delayed getting groceries because of the chemo hangover. But I must take care of things before school starts back up for Drew. After church, I am already done in tired, and I manage to rest a bit and eat delicious left overs for lunch while waiting for Drew to return from church. He brings me an Advent wreath he made in church. He did a nice job. We put it on the kitchen table and admire his handiwork. Usually we purchase a real pine wreath for the scent, but this works just fine.

He is eager to get to Wegmans. The list is ready, he jumps in the drivers seat - to spare me the energy drain, of course - and off we go. He is quite solicitous of my well being. He selects a large cart and politely maneuvers it so I can take over. I lean heavily on the handle. I man the list, and Drew makes the side trips, fetching this and that while I navigate a straight course through the store. I know my strength will last only so long. I move slowly, trying to stay out of people's way. The store is not too crowded. I suspect the main force already moved through a bit earlier.

Our cart fills gradually. Drew is into cooking this year. Chocolate chip cookies seem to be at the top of his list. He would also like to learn how to make bread, something I once did regularly when the boys were little. I got to be pretty decent at it. We search for yeast. Who would have thought to look near the cheese refrigerator case? I thought for sure the baking aisle. But we have it now. Only two more things to get. I am beginning to fade.

I need a large mailer envelope and a windshield scraper. Mine from last year disappeared. I might have tossed the darn thing because it didn't work very well. I decide not to bother. I am too worn out to handle a trip to Target for these two items. Drew senses my distress. He runs ahead to open the car door so I can sit down while he loads the groceries in the trunk. I recover enough to be able to manage sitting in the car a few more minutes while he runs in to Target for the last 2 items. He calls me to tell me the options.

At last he pulls into our parking space. It takes me a good ten minutes to crawl out of the car and up the stairs. I feel like an old woman. I know this will pass. It always does. I sit while Drew brings everything inside. What would I do without him? Plan ahead better! After a bit my energy returns. I can help put things away, but then I am done for the day. Drew makes dinner. I would have just gone to bed. Good thing tomorrow is another day away from the chemo and I will be in a better place. God is good. All shall be well and all shall be well and all things shall be well.

The Paper

2011-11-26T22:58:00.000-05:00

No matter how I feel today, the paper is due. I must complete it. Fortunately, I created an outline and sketched in some thoughts before the chemo just in case I ended up with chemobrain too badly. I look at what is there. This will work. I have all day. Surely I can manage 2400 words by midnight.

But papers don't write themselves. I struggle to push into words thoughts that are still foggy and unclear. I am out of my element writing about Islam. I don't know anyone of that faith, so I have no idea how to hold a discussion of beliefs with someone who is Muslim. I write a page, reread, delete and begin again. It all sounds so artificial. I immerse myself in the readings. It makes sense when I read about it. But can I discuss it with any sense of integrity? I try again. Again I delete and start over.

Some papers are more challenging. They say to write about what you know and have experienced, and I see that this is my issue. So I just begin there. I don't know anyone of the Muslim faith. Perhaps that is my fault for not seeking them out. Regardless, here is what I understand of their beliefs from the readings, and here is where we agree. This is where we disagree.

I worry over it all day like a dog with a tough bone. Finally I am out of time and patience. I just want to get this darn thing off my computer and safely uploaded to the professor's class site. I suppose I could make some chemo excuse, except that chemo is not the reason this isn't my best work. Sigh. Sometimes you just have to take your lumps.

Black Friday

2011-11-25T20:46:00.000-05:00

There is no way I will go anywhere near a mall today. In fact, since my chemo has hit royally, there is no way I am going anywhere at all today. Drew wants to spend some time with friends and asks me to drive him there. I look at him like he has lost all his marbles. You got to be kidding. His face falls. He disappears. I hate this stuff. He shouldn't have to give up seeing friends just because I feel horrible. But there is no way. I can barely manage to sit in a chair.

Drew returns. His friend's Mom will pick him up today if I will come and get him tomorrow. I hesitate. Will I be up to it tomorrow? I hate to commit and then have to renege. But his pleading eyes are hard to resist. OK. I will do my best. I am not sure about this at all. Besides, I know he has not done his homework yet. STOP! He is an adult. You cannot force him into making the right decisions. You will be lucky to prevent him from making damaging ones.

He dances off in glee to get ready. I realize this means another day alone and that I will have to somehow find the strength to walk Sugar. I ask Drew to take her out one last time before he leaves, but his ride has arrived and he doesn't want to make them wait. Sigh. Its good for me to have to make myself move when I have no energy. That's why I got the dog in the first place. Remember? Right.

Moving is better than not moving. As a faculty colleague of mine says, "As long as you can move, you will be OK." OK is good. It doesn't get the paper written, but its still good. Keep me going, Julian. “All shall be well. All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.”

The Day After

2011-11-24T20:31:00.000-05:00

Not so bad. Really, I don't feel too bad. I wonder if the steroids are helping. I don't rush about rising. Drew is going to visit his brother and father and I know Sugar and I will be on our own. I am glad I will at least have the oompf to walk her when she needs it.

I do have a paper to write, but I need to finish reading the material first (always advisable). So I curl up in the recliner with my books about me and begin to read. Some of the material is kind of prickly but I force myself to wade through it despite my opinions. Suddenly I nod myself back awake. I didn't even know I had drifted off. How wonderful to be drowsy and in a perfect place to snitch cap naps.

Must be time to warm a plate of food. I rumble about in the fridge, delighted to have so many tasty dishes to choose from. How kind of people to have sent casseroles. This makes it so easy. I bless my food and take my time eating. Then another little nap. I am still feeling OK. No pains, no overwhelming fatigue. Sugar and I take a walk. The weather is amazing for this time of year.

By the time I return to my chair, the exhaustion begins to take hold. I try to read. I have yet to get to the writing the paper part, and I realize I will not get there today. My grace is ending and the mack truck experience is beginning. I take Tylenol and give up on the recliner. This is a definite lie-down-on-the-bed thing. I am sad to leave behind the cheerful lights of my little Christmas tree, but I know I will drift off quickly.

I just hope Drew isn't too late getting home. Sugar will need to be walked again.

Chemo

2011-11-23T21:57:00.002-05:00

I procrastinate. I know I am doing it. I drag my feet, waste time, loiter over little details like walking the dog. I watch the clock ticking down. I have to leave. I don't want to be late. Do I? I rush to pack my big pink bag that Sherri gave me when round 2 began. I am comforted by her presence. You can't wait any longer. You have to leave NOW!

I force myself down the steps and out through the laundry room door. I flip the car unlocked and squint as the yellow lights blink. It isn't even early. Only 8:30 am. I nose out into traffic on 390 S. Today I am in no hurry. I refuse to exceed 55. Cars whizz by. I shake my head. Let them pass.

I check in to the reception area and for once end up sitting there awhile. The infusion center is abuzz with activity. I hadn't realized how crowded it would be today. It makes me more nervous than I already am. I give myself a stern talking to. Behave yourself. You are not a little girl. Act your age. I am braceleted, weighed, temperatured, blood pressured and ushered to the farthest possible pod where I have never been before. One nurses' aide going by tells my guide there are only 2 chairs left until they reach capacity.

I ask if its unusually busy. My friendly guide happily announces that there are over 140 of us in the clinic today. All hands are on deck. They have squeezed everyone in because of the holidays. She is not kidding. I panic that I might not get a window. How selfish of me. But God is with me and of the two remaining chairs, one is not only by a window, it is in a corner with 2 windows! And the other candidate does not want it! Yeah!

I immediately raise the blinds. Even though the scene outside is construction and the sky is gloomy and gray, I feel better. I am not in prison. How silly, but how important for me. My nurse is new to me. She tells me she will get to me as soon as she is done setting up her other patients. Two people are with the other new arrival, and they ask to take my extra chair since I don't have anyone with me.

I nod, smiling. How little they know. I do have someone with me. God is with me, but he doesn't need the chair. I settle in facing the great outdoors, plug in my iPhone and dial up St Olaf's media page. For the next hour I am blessed by their fall concert. I do not even notice how long it takes the nurse to get to me. Who cares? Maybe they will send me home free of chemo!

But no. The nurse finally enters my pod and asks me if I always have a reaction to the Rituxan. I say yes. She is surprised that they are not trying to prevent the reactions. She decides to talk with the charge nurse. They call my doctor and discuss how they might help me. There is another preventive drug they can add to my list of stuff. Maybe I will not have a reaction today. Isn't that interesting? Underneath the conversation I can almost see Jesus' smiling face. Once again I know the comfort of being in good hands, just like last night.

I dutifully swallow the cupful of Benedryl, Decadron, Tylenol, Pepcid. I ask the nurse to wait long enough for stuff to take effect, and to hang a simultaneous bag of fluid to thin out the Rituxan. She is happy to oblige. And so the drip begins. I select another service at St Olaf, then one at Duke University chapel. I am alone for long stretches, yet I am not alone. I am comforted.

People wander in and out offering me warm blankets, animal cookies, ginger ale. I gladly accept them all, then return to my uplifting music. I hit the ceiling of my endurance at 200, a notch above the usual 150. The reaction starts in my feet, then the neuropathy climbs my legs to my knees. I don't say anything. I want to be done and get out of here.

Then it hits my mouth and I know I cannot delay. I tell the nurse. Here we go with more IV Benedryl. Thank God I learned the trick of putting it in the IV fluid because the straight dope makes me pass out. We pause the Rituxan until the burning, swelling and itching subsides, then we back down to 150. I will have to be here awhile longer. Sigh. I turn to the St Olaf Vespers service. Time is immaterial now.

One by one, my pod mates complete their treatments and depart. Even the latecomer newbies are done and pack up to take off. The center quiets down, unwinding after a hectic day. I am impressed that the nurses handled it so well. I watch out the window as darkness falls, shrouding me in a cocoon of nightness.

And Then.

Then.

Then the choir sings this gorgeous song called Stay With Us from Egil Hovland's Captive and Free. (see the last 5 minutes of this) The words pour over me like a warm and soothing potion. From deep within my being, all the angst, the fear, the burden, the heartache of my entire lifetime cried out to God. I can feel it rising straight to heaven in a shaft of misery. In return I feel a ribbon of light and warmth tumbling back down, covering me, healing me, comforting me. It is almost unbearable it is so amazing.

Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
Stay with us, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
It soon is evening and night is falling.

Jesus Christ the world's true light.
Shine so the darkness cannot over come it.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus the night is falling.
Let your light pieerce the darkness and fill your church with its glory.

Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
Stay with us, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
It soon is evening and night is falling.

These are the words of the disciples on the road to Emmaus, talking with Jesus and not knowing it was him. Recognizing how they longed to be with him, urging him to stay with them (Luke 24). As the darkness fell and I became more alone in my isolated pod, as the bustle of life worked its way down the hall away from my place, the tears streamed down my face in total release of the weight I had been carrying. God's love washed over me, tender and caring. I felt loved beyond measure. You cannot imagine how the music and the love and the words and the darkness outside and the aloneness aligned in one amazing heartlifting moment caressed by His presence.

Nothing else mattered. It was all true, what the song said. I knew it. I felt it. I pressed repeat over and over again until all the tears were cried, until all the heartache was eased, until I was at total peace. It was the primal cry of my being. God, don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Stay here. Stay here with me. Please. I took a deep breath for the first time in days.

And just as suddenly as the Holy Spirit appeared, my world returned to normal. The nurse came to tell me I was done and remove my hook up. One bandaid later I gathered my things and began the long trek down the darkened hall and into the glaring light of the parking garage where I climbed into my car and started the engine.

Stay with us. Stay with me. You will never leave me or forsake me. You are with me always even to the end of my world. Be with those who watch and weep and wait through the long hours of the dark night and comfort them with your eternal light. Stay with me, Lord. I know you will. You promised.

Getting Ready

2011-11-22T23:42:00.001-05:00

I don't usually have such a difficult time thinking about getting a chemo treatment. I have been doing this for a long time. There is nothing unexpected, nothing all that big a deal. This will be my 16th round of Rituxan, and I still have 8 more to go over the next few years. But something inside will just not sit still.

I consider calling my pastor and asking for prayer. I mean to do it. I keep getting sidetracked. Besides, something inside keeps saying how silly it is and how unnecessary. After all, its not like I can't handle a little chemo. But I know deep inside that it is not a sign of weakness to ask for prayer. Of all people, I should know that.

I am sucked into one issue after another all day at work and by the time I am free, the day has ended and it is really too late to ask for a meeting. I know people are praying for me, and I decide to let that be enough. I could have called the pastor and had him pray for me over the phone, and I know the pastor would not have minded. But I am all out of sorts. What is wrong with me?

Maybe its because three friends of mine have lost their battle with cancer in the last few months. What if I am next? I have been holding on until Drew at least graduates from high school and he is getting close. What if I run out of time? This is not some silly game. This is for all the potatoes.

My friend once told me that I have every right to be distraught about having cancer. After all, what I am going through is not nice. I should be upset. True. I responded by saying that really, I had been through much worse and by comparison, this wasn't such a big deal. Also true. But by comparison with how things should be, its all out of whack.

I give myself permission to be distraught. Then I find I am too tired to be upset or angry or fearful or anything but tired. Maybe that's it. Maybe I am just worn out with having to intentionally make myself submit to these bouts of feeling horrible over and over.

I tumble into bed and just say, "Dear God - " That is as far as I can manage. Dear God. And in those two words, all the everything inside is said. At once I know he has heard and knows exactly what is what. I can rest. Its as simple as knowing that I am in good hands no matter what. I drift off to sleep. We will see what tomorrow brings.

Unexpected Bonus

2011-11-21T21:26:00.003-05:00

Today I pulled back the curtain to water my Christmas cactus. I have had this particular plant for a long time - well, at least since after my first round of cancer. I have carted it around from Illinois to Connecticut to Rochester. I even have left it in my Mother's capable care during times of moving.

The poor little thing has never bloomed. It almost bloomed after Mom took care of it for a month or so. Actually had a few little buds on it. But as soon as I took it back, the buds fell off and nothing came of it. It has slowly grown, and I repotted it a couple of years ago. I mostly keep it in the window for the sun. After all, it is a cactus. And this is not much of a desert or hothouse.

It obliges by growing long dangling arms of green succulent plant with little spines here and there, but no flowers or buds. I chalked it up to the stress of the household or the fact that I somehow got either a male plant or a defective thing. Or I just don't have a green thumb. Or even a pale yellow one. No matter. I like the greenery and everything has it purpose.

Today, as I pulled the curtain aside, I was suddenly greeted by more vibrant huge pink flowers than I could take in. What on earth happened?? Astounded, I set down the watercan and gently pull the pot from the window. More blooms cascade from the window side of the terra cotta pot. I am overwhelmed. I cannot believe this dormant quiet little unproductive plant has suddenly produced so many beautiful blooms that it completely makes up for all the years of silence.

I call the kids to look. They are impressed. What did I do? Nothing. Nothing different from what I have always done! The plant just decided it was time. We admire the gorgeous blossoms until we finally have to tear ourselves away. I tuck the pot carefully back in the window sill and head out into the day totally blessed and smiling my silly head off. Who would have thought?

I Am Thankful

2011-11-20T21:02:00.001-05:00

I open my eyes and am glad to be alive. I stretch and immediately am thankful for my cozy comfortable bed (having slept in lumpy old bunks crammed with siblings where I was far from comfortable) and the warmth of my bedroom. Not so long ago I was in a home where there was no heat and it was c-o-l-d! And I remembered living at Charlie Lake in the winter when you had to use the outdoor facilities that were definitely not heated. I am so spoiled.

I am thankful I do not have to rush to work and do hard physical labor before breakfast (like when I visited at Gram's and the chickens had to be fed first). And how luxurious is a hot shower! Manys the time I have taken cold washcloth baths after carting gallon jugs of water from the mountain pipe down the road, pulling dozens of the heavy things in a little red wagon. Or stood in a pan and poured warmed water over myself, soaped up in the freezing air of the unheated house, then doused again to rinse. That's no fun.

I am thankful my house has no vermin or critters. My sister used to sleep with the dog even though she was no fan of dogs because it kept the mice from running over her bedcovers at night. And in the south, the inevitable cockroaches gave me the nervous willies. I love my warm flannel jammies and sheets - no need for hot water bottles to keep your toes from freezing with shock from touching frigid cloth.

I am blessed to have a closet full of clean clothing that I like. Stuff that fits, is my preferred color and style, and is NOT a hand-me-down. My shoes are perfect for my feet and don't give me blisters (unlike those blasted Salvation Army used shoes I had to wear when I was a kid), and my sweaters (plural) are warm warm warm. I love the smell of my shampoo and handsoap. I not only have food in my fridge, I have a fridge and not an ice cooler. Manys the time I have lived in a dumpy place where either there was no refrigerator or the electric was off. What a nuisance to have to buy ice and dump out stale water and hope to God the food isn't spoiled. And I have pans and a working stove to warm my delicious food, of which I can choose what I am in the mood for today.

I have a happy little doggie companion, a car that works well and is dependable and gets good mileage, a son who keeps me company, neighbors to chat with, a quiet peaceful neighborhood, and money in my wallet. Not a lot, but enough. I have a job thank God thank God - one I truly like and enjoy and find pleasure in doing with good people. I am free to come and go without being questioned and for the most part I am not in pain. At least not constantly. And I can get medicine when I need it.

I cannot even really begin to list the wonderful amazing blessings I enjoy on a regular basis. What's not to be thankful for? As Julian of Norwich once said, "…All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." which translated means, Thank God, I am blessed.

Thanksgiving Arrives Early

2011-11-19T22:44:00.001-05:00

My wonderful church family is once again coming alongside me to offer meals and prayers while I undergo chemo next Wednesday - right before Thanksgiving. I am busy gearing up for this chemo, trying to get the house in order and take care of bills and papers for coursework, etc.

It never occurred to me to celebrate Thanksgiving early while I am still feeling well. I just fell into the trap of assuming that since I would be reeling from the treatment, I would lie low, sleep, and somehow manage to get through the day. But they suggested I consider celebrating with family today. If I was willing, they would bring a complete Thanksgiving dinner! Who could refuse such an amazing offer?

I invited Kiel and Andrea, and as an afterthought, also my sister who lives alone here in Rochester. I had a reference shift in the late afternoon and Kiel had work until about the same time. We both arrived home to an apartment filled with yummy smells and a plethora of pans brimming with holiday goodies. I almost feel guilty accepting such largess at the expense of someone else's labor. After all, I could have done this had I thought of it. I could have squeezed it in before the boom lowers.

Still, what an enjoyable evening we had. Good conversation, laughter, memories of past family events - while gathered around food which we could all thoroughly enjoy. We pulled one delightful dish after another from the warming oven - turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, gravy, home made rolls, sweet potato pie and cranberry relish. No one was shy. We lingered at table long after forks stopped moving.

Chairs would have been more comfortable in the living room, but no one wanted to move. No one wanted to leave the fellowship or break the good time we were having. After a bit, we thought of the pies - apple AND pumpkin! Can you imagine? How spoiled are we? We decide to wait a bit before indulging more, and finally wander into the living room where I ask for help in setting up my little Christmas tree (might as well get a head start on that holiday too!).

This year I am graduating to a one-person sized tree just large enough to hold the select ornaments I have gradually collected as children have moved out and taken their favorite ornaments with them. It goes up in a zip and then we watch the Veggie Tales Little Drummer Boy dvd until our dinner settles and we are ready for pie.

It felt just like Thanksgiving - a wonderful day filled with family and food and fellowship. Just right. I am surrounded with memories of past Thanksgivings where we met at Grandma's house and played with our cousins. Even Drew reminisced about the bit bowl of walnuts we used to have, and how he liked to crack them and pop them in his mouth. Good memories. I will not be sad at all or alone come the actual Thanksgiving Day when I will be home alone nursing a chemo hangover.

I am extremely grateful for the hands that prepared all the wonderful food we enjoyed and for the kind hearted people who recognized how important it was for us not to skip this important celebration. My heart is singing with happiness as I tuck the remains away for another day. Perhaps I will save a plate for next week. Perhaps it won't manage to last that long! But the memories will be there. I will be buoyed up by these moments of happiness. And some year, I will be able to give such a precious gift to a family going through the pits. I hope it will be soon.

Dark Takes Over

2011-11-18T22:32:00.000-05:00

I am sitting at the reference desk, and suddenly, I realize that it is already dark outside. And before I leave work for the day. How can that be? I know the change in daylight hours is a gradual process, but I have been paying no attention. Daylight Savings Time speeds the process along, but really, until tonight, it hasn't hit me that I leave work in the dark now.

Maybe it has been the incredibly warm weather straight through November that made me think we were not close to winter yet. Maybe the recent snow jogged my awareness and said - Pay attention! Days are short. Soon you will be going to work in the dark and returning home in the dark.

I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter, but it does. I revel in sunlight. I suppose I have chosen to live in the wrong latitude. Not that I could survive equatorial living, but someplace where both ends of the day don't meet quite so soon for so much of the year. (it could be worse - I hear Alaska is desperate for workers and jobs are plentiful there).

Rather like getting old. Suddenly one day you wake up and realize you are aging. Where did the time go? Why doesn't my body work so well? And who made everything move so fast! I can do nothing about growing old or lengthening days. At least with the day thing, it self corrects! As for the body thing, I hear we get eternal ones after graduation. That could work.

SNOW!

2011-11-17T22:10:00.000-05:00

The weather station predicted snow showers this afternoon, and sure enough, as I was heading to church for a worship committee meeting, the flakes began to sift down, one here, one there. By the time we began our meeting, it was pelting the window. My car is a white mound in the parking lot and the grass has disappeared. I feel the chill of excitement. Winter! Soon the dead brown of autumn will be blanketed with fresh white snow, scrubbing the pollen and fleas from the face of nature.

My colleague, who is from Cuba, can hardly focus on our discussion. Snow is still a wonder for her. She finally excuses herself to call her friend who just arrived. This is her first time ever seeing snow. I can imagine the joy! The rest of us smile. We remember being excited about the first snow, before we got jaded about the shoveling/driving parts.

One year when I was attending college in New York and my parents had moved to Texas, I awoke to a Currier and Ives "snow filling the air blanket of white on the ground" scene. I was so excited I quite forgot that my parents lived in a different time zone and I bounced out of bed and called Mom. She answered the phone and I was so excited I missed the hint of worry in her voice. Why would anyone be calling at 5 am unless it was an emergency?

I gushed on and on about the snow and how exciting it was until I finally ran out of words. Then Mom said, "Is that why you called? Nothing is wrong?" Suddenly I saw things from her eyes. First snowfalls are meaningless if you can't see them, if you haven't been living with dead leaves and brown grass that suddenly are transformed before your eyes. Joy is not necessarily contagious over the phone, especially at 5 am. Moms have their limits. I felt sick inside. What a fool I had been, how thoughtless of me. My silence was deafening.

"Enjoy your snow. I'm going back to bed," Mom said. Click. Dial tone. I sat in my dorm room stunned at my unthinking intrusion into my Mother's world. Please forgive me. Just then, my dorm sisters tumbled out of the side door into the white new world beneath my window. They scooped up the white slush and tossed snowballs at each other, yelling and laughing. I couldn't resist. I grabbed my coat and mittens and headed out, properly sobered but still up for some joy.

Mailing Katie's Present

2011-11-16T22:23:00.001-05:00

My grand daughter's birthday is coming up. I wander the toy aisles at Target. Never having had a girl, I am a bit at a loss about what she might want. I know she is into princesses and my little ponies. There is a Barbie princess doll that is a vision of loveliness. I remember playing with Barbie and all her stuff for hours and hours, but I was a bit older than Katie. Besides, there is all that rhetoric about warping young girls' ideas of normal body size. Sigh.

I go to Walmart's and look at their toy selection. Really, I would rather give her art lessons or something that will help her develop her creativity. But I am so far away, and I don't want to press her parents into having extra transportation duty. So I text my daughter-in-law to see what I should get. Yup - the Barbie would be perfect. OK.

I head home with the beautiful Barb tucked beneath my arm. I search my storage drawers for wrapping paper. Apparently I don't have anything left of my once copious supply. Trip to the dollar store to find birthday wrapping for a little girl, then on to the post office to box it up and send it out.

I arrive at the post office and enter an empty foyer. Impossible! No one in line for stamps? I decide to ask the clerk for advice about which box to use. She sets the wrapped present on her scale to see if it makes sense to send it priority (where I don't have to pay for the box) or flat rate (where I do have to pay for the box in addition to the postage). It will be the same cost either way if I can make it fit in the small priority box.

I unfold the box and try stuffing the present inside. It is just a bit too large. Hum. I stand there contemplating. A gentleman comes in and wanders past, then comes back and offers help. Really? I am the all time guru at packing, having moved so often. I can fit the contents of an entire household into a small pickup truck. This is really not possible.

But he bends the box just so, bellying out the middle and violating the end folds just enough and voila! He has managed to cram it inside. The clerk doesn't bat an eye at the unusual packaging. She weighs and stamps it and tosses it into the bin for North Carolina. Who knew you could bend the rules of a rigid cardboard box and make it do something it was not intended to do? Apparently, my helper.

Go, Barbie - fly to North Carolina and make my Katie smile.

Great Crepes

2011-11-15T23:23:00.001-05:00

Girls Night Out! Yeah! We have all had so much going on in our lives that we haven't gotten together for awhile. Tonight we head for Pittsford once more to the Simply Crepes restaurant. I am a sucker for a good crepe. Plus I know that I can eat almost any of them without detriment.

The place is elegant - crystal chandeliers, fireplace, homey wood paneling and old fashioned furniture. It is small and cozy, a nice reprieve from the cold outside. We settle at a table and peruse the menu. We can have anything from breakfast to lunch to dinner to dessert. The options are bountiful. We decide to select 3 different dishes and each try a bite of all. A sampler approach.

Conversation flows freely and time passes. The food is amazing and delicious. Before we realize, it is time to head home. We decide to indulge in the bite-sized cream and chocolate filled raspberry crepettes (and strong decaf coffee for my friends. We are loathe to leave the warmth and camaraderie. At last we tear ourselves away and head out into the night for our various places, our stomachs and our hearts both full. We definitely need to continue this wonderful tradition.

Darn Cough

2011-11-14T22:23:00.001-05:00

I have been coughing since February. I know it is chemo cough, but I am so tired of hacking and choking and gagging. It wears me out, saps my energy, and makes me self-conscious in public. I am sure people think I am tremendously rude. I am so fed up that as a last ditch effort, I make a doctor's appointment. I plan to beg for something, anything that will alleviate this horrible hacking.

The doctor does all the same things as usual. Its not in my sinus, not in my chest, no redness in my throat. It is, really and still, chemo cough. She sees my distress. I am bummed. Together we scour a list of possible medications on the computer screen. She gives me several choices of things I can try, and encourages me to gargle with warm salt water. I suspect she does not believe these medications will help much, but at least I can try stuff.

Please, Lord. Make it go away.

Cluster Choir

2011-11-13T22:39:00.001-05:00

Ah, our annual choral gathering! There are 11 choirs participating this year. I am approaching it a bit differently. I purchased 2 new songs for the event. Songs that I like and which I plan to sing in our home services, but upbeat songs that I think other churches might want to try out. Its challenging for the choir to learn them on top of the regular service repertoire and feel like they know them well enough to sing in public, so to speak.

Several people from choir will not be able to be there this year for one reason or another, so we are small in number, but big in heart. I always worry about my choir members because it is such a long and uncomfortable and demanding day. They are such good sports about it. I especially worry about people driving home in the dark after such a long day out.

I have suggested to the other directors that we consider having the rehearsal on a Saturday for the 3 mass choir pieces, then schedule the concert in the afternoon on Sunday. That way we wouldn't need to do a marathon of singing for the 6 hours we will put in today on top of the morning service.

This year my throat is so bad that I cannot sing. I sit in the pews and listen. It IS a lovely sound to hear 80+ voices sing together. And everyone seems to be enjoying themselves despite the grueling schedule. The last piece they sing is the Hallelujah chorus from the Messiah. The organist is stellar, knowing just how to work the stops to best effect. They have run the piece twice and are doing one last swing through.

Suddenly, in the middle of the piece, I feel rather than hear, a depth and spirituality that is rare. The faces of the singers are shining. They are all pouring everything they have into this song. There is a collective energy. The sound floats with majesty. The singers also feel the moment of powerful significance as they lift up the ancient music to the ears of God. Yes, this is why we do cluster choir every year. We would have never been able individually to achieve such a moment. But together, in community, we affirm our common faith, we reach a unity of knowing the grandeur of God.

The rest of the evening slides by, but for me, the one moment of pure awe made the entire day worthwhile. I am blessed that I was able to sit there and be part of it despite my inability to sing. Hallelujah!

Kicking the Chicken

2011-11-12T22:39:00.002-05:00

Today is the seminary retreat. I have looked forward to this time set aside to take a deep breath and think about how things are. It is always a rich time of meditation, connection, grace. As I have been around for more years than one normally needs to complete the program, many of the faces today are new to me. I join a table and meet new friends. It is hard to tear away from the conversations and begin the morning session.

The topic intrigues me. It is a question I have wrestled with. How can I make a difference to the starving millions in the world, to the invisible people I will never meet who need help? Our morning speaker, a sociologist, Lisa Graham McMinn who authored Walk Softly on the Earth sets forth this scenario:

Suppose you are at the grocery store, and checking out. What would you do if the clerk told you that you could save a dollar if you kicked the chicken tied to the cash register? Would you do it? What if you could save $5 by punching the child behind the counter?

What a ridiculous question. Of COURSE we wouldn't do it. But everytime we buy products from companies who exploit animals or children, we are, in essence, kicking the chicken and contributing to the cycle of exploitation and misery. She offers some ideas about how to lessen such an impact without crusading.

1) plant a garden and grow your own produce
2) buy local (also saves on fossil fuel consumption)
3) join a community agricultural project
4) for products that are not available locally, make sure you purchase Fair Trade products. that way you don't support the huge corporations that are concerned more about their bottom line than their slave labor
5) eat low on the food chain (more fruit/veggies; less meat)
6) walk, bike, carpool when possible
7) savor meal preparation and don't go out for fast food or convenience foods

Seven simple do-able lifestyle changes that collectively make a real difference to those poor invisible people who are in need. She also encouraged us to simplify our lives. Don't think you need so much. Make gifts. Own less.

How good it is to hear these truths. How easy to implement the ones I do not yet abide by. We break for lunch and violate most of her suggestions. Oops. The afternoon flies by. Before I know it, we are leaving. I pray this is one event where I don't forget to follow through once I step back into the hectic daily routine.

That Darn Woman

2011-11-11T23:11:00.003-05:00

I was having a marvelous time at an event where I would be presenting a lecture. I chatted with friends and colleagues, sipped punch, nibbled crackers. The atmosphere was warm and friendly. I happened to glance toward the windows, and suddenly I saw HER. I had no idea she would be at this event. This woman humiliated me in public several years ago.

Smiling to my face she plunged the dagger into my heart, and, still smiling, her back hiding her treachery to the world, she twisted the knife, gaining great pleasure while watching me gyrate in pain. Nothing I could do released the steel from my flesh. When she turned from me to the people in the room, she feigned innocence. She knew nothing of what had just happened. I hated this nasty person from the depths of my heart. No matter what I said to defend myself or to explain that it was all her doing, I just ended up looking worse and worse. My only hope was to walk away, nurse my wounds, and never go near her again.

I never did know why she did what she did. I had not really known her before the incident. We didn't intersect except at the one event, and I had done nothing I could think of to have made her angry with me. Well, no matter. I will just avoid her and try to enjoy today despite her presence.

Except. Except that my head kept telling me that I, as a Christian, as a daughter of the King, must love my enemies. Love her? Not gonna happen. She is mean. She hurt me. I hate her. Uh. OK. I know hate is not part of love. Really, God can't expect me to actually love her. Look at her. She is studiously snubbing me. Walking past without deigning to acknowledge my presence. Making ostentatious animated conversation with people near me to rub it in that I don't count in her eyes. Really? Love this creature?

Yes.
I can't.
You can't or you won't?
Well . . .

OK. I will make some small gesture. But if she treats me badly, I am absolved of all responsibility. Deal?

Make the gesture.

She is walking by. I look her square in the eyes, smile as widely as I can and greet her as if we are friends. She stopped dead in her tracks, looked at me with a frozen smile, then seemed to melt before my eyes. "Oh, hello. Nice to see you. How are you doing?"

She seemed sincere. Inside my mind was reeling. How do you think I am doing after you butchered me in public? Outwardly, I asked after her well being and her activities. It was as if she did not remember her treachery towards me. As if there were no wall between us. Really? After all that? She patted me on the arm as we parted, and said with genuine feeling, "It's good to see you again." And with that touch, everything changed.

I am floored. And surprised to discover that my hurt and hatred have melted away. Things seem to be in perspective once again. She is a person. Whatever her reason that day, she doesn't seem to have realized what she did. Nor does she seem to remember it or harbor any ill will towards me.

Huh. All I did was say hello in an attempt to be nice. Can it really be that simple? What just happened here? I shake my head and enter the conference room. Amazing.

Clean Teeth

2011-11-10T22:38:00.001-05:00

Drew was supposed to have his teeth cleaned today, but the dentist needed to change the time of his appointment, and I didn't want him missing school. Since I had to cancel my last cleaning, I volunteered to take this appointment at the later time and make another appointment for Drew. I am curious if I can even get through a complete cleaning. If I get a coughing jag I will have to quit. I pray for a cough-free dental time.

I warn the hygienist ahead of time. She understands and is willing to do whatever it takes. She has been worried about me because I cannot go long between cleanings due to my compromised immune system. I need to keep my mouth under control ( a good trick if you can do it!). I manage to mostly be cough free. The cleaning goes well and my mouth tastes so minty and fresh.

She gives me a new softer toothbrush and lots of dental floss. Then I head in to be seen by the new dentist - a specialist who deals with many cancer patients. She spends a good while checking things out under the auspices of digital technologies of all kinds.

Only one tiny cavity, but my teeth have evidenced more places where a small piece has fractured off. I will need to have repairs done. Then she discovers an infection around one of my molars. I will need to see a specialist in another clinic to have that dealt with. My immune system is no place to harbor an infection.

She recommends two different mouthwashes to help with the dryness in my mouth and the resulting bacterial buildup. One during the day, one right before bed. Sigh. Its never ending, the fall out of the radiation chemo track. At least this time no more teeth have fallen out. Thank God for that.

Late Night

2011-11-09T22:38:00.001-05:00

On Wednesdays my library work day begins at noon. Of course, I use the free morning to run errands and read assignments and catch up on housework. Then I head off for the afternoon and night shift at the library. Today I plan to stay long after my usual home going time to work with the new Evening Supervisor. She comes in at 9 pm. Depending on her questions and what she is able to absorb, I could be here well nigh all evening.

I am happy to be training. Because of the bad job market out there, I was fortunate to be able to hire far above the normal level of expertise for these positions. I know our new hires will catch on quickly and take us much farther down the improvement road than we have managed to get thus far, and for that I am grateful. I keep telling myself that the late hours will end soon, and that there is a light at the end of the "filling in for two other jobs more than I normally do" thing.

Still, by the end of the day when I finally head home bleary eyed, I am more than ready to call it quits. I guess I am getting old. I used to run all day and not get weary. Or else its just this cough that tires me out so much. If I could just breathe better, I think I could manage to handle the occasional candle burning at both ends day.

Blue Skies

2011-11-08T22:38:00.001-05:00

Glorious! If I didn't know better, I would think summer has returned. Or at least a very amenable fall. Everyone is outdoors. Neighbors are smiling and chatting. Hearts are filled with joy and good will. After all the gloomy rain, this reprieve lightens steps and workloads and expectations. Dogs bark, birds sing, flowers bloom again, grass greens up. Makes me long for the days when we lived 3 miles from the Mexican border and even in the winter the sun kissed our faces and warmed our backs.

What is this strange effect that the color blue has on us? Or is it the color yellow sun? Can the sun touch our world in ways like the moon, causing tides to flow and cycles to repeat? Would it be fair to say that just as the full moon brings out all the weird behavior, the full sun brings out all the happiness?

Whatever the cause, I hope it lasts for a long while. I hope I can store it up for the long winter's night when I am cooped indoors and face a frozen tundra of white. Blue over white. I'll take the blue for as long as I can. Meanwhile, I make every excuse to get outside. Oh, Sugar!

Out Sick

2011-11-07T22:37:00.001-05:00

Darn cough. I woke at 4 am sputtering and hacking. It took a good half hour for my throat to settle down so I could go back to sleep. I was just drifting off when I coughed again and suddenly sat bolt upright. Now I have to go to the bathroom. And I mean right now. I jump out of bed and run for the room. That was close. I trudge back to bed and settle in, shifting the pillows and blankets around me just right. Three seconds later, I scramble out of bed and bolt for the room again. Oh, no.

The coughing sets off the stomach. The stomach sets off the coughing. Vicious cycle. At this rate, I'll never get any rest. By 8 am, I realize I am not going to be able to function at work in any capacity. I decide to call in and take the day to get over whateverthisis before it gains a foothold. First I call the person I report to. Then a trip to the bathroom. Then I realize I have a morning training session, so I call that person. Trip to bathroom. Then I call the front desk to let them know. Another trip. I forget to call anyone else. I should have called the reference desk and my afternoon meeting person as well.

But I am too worn out to care about all that. I know I should, but I don't. Sometimes I just don't act very responsibly. I wander in and out of sleep vs bathroom most of the day. Drew is home and we watch a movie (with many pauses). At last it all seems to pass, thank goodness (pun intended). Let's not repeat that any time soon!

Long Day

2011-11-06T22:37:00.001-05:00

Every once in awhile I draw a Sunday reference shift at the library. I try to sign up mostly for Saturdays because it makes such a long day for me. First I drop Drew off for his ride to church at 8:30, then head to my office where I watch an online service like St. Olaf or Duke University for awhile.

I must be at church for rehearsals at 9:30 am, then service at 10 followed by children's choir rehearsal and chime choir rehearsal. I am finished around 1 pm, then the library begins at 2 and goes until 6 pm. Today I will be staying after 6 to work with our new Evening Supervisor. I am hoping to get home before 9 pm. It does make for a long day.

I am not complaining at all. I am happy that I have so many wonderful things happening in my life and that I truly enjoy all of them. But I am glad that the Sunday long days are not the norm! I so prefer my afternoon rest and spending the day with Drew.

Pretty Sugar

2011-11-05T21:39:00.001-05:00

How fast Sugar's fur grows! When she starts looking like a fat little sausage, I know its time to take her to be clipped. She loves to go, and when I turned in the opposite direction to run an errand before dropping her off, she cried and whined and scratched at the car window! Smart dog.

Too bad people don't come with some kind of automatic indicator of when they need attention! Oh, the outside grooming is easy enough to detect, but the inside stuff is much harder to read. Wouldn't it be grand if a person's face turned blue when they are sad and in need of cheering up? Or their fingers tingled when they are in need of a big ole hug! These are the kinds of things you can only know by really paying attention to someone and learning their norms and abnorms (is that a word?).

You can't really do that virtually or textingly (another new coinage?). You can't do it remotely or as you are passing through on your way to another meeting. You simply have to be with someone consistently to see the needs. And then of course, to know how best to meet them.

For all Sugar's cuteness with her new trim job, despite the colorful thanksgiving neckerchief she sports, regardless of her perky little ear bows, I know she is missing Kiel who moved out when he got his new apartment and hasn't had time to visit. She is moping. Me too.

I know when he settles in and finds his pace, he will show up again. Meantime, I scratch Sugar behind the ears and take her on extra walks. That will just have to do for now. Drew is still in his delighted to have his space back mode, but I think I do detect just a tinge of blue in his face, even if he won't admit to missing his brother.

A Carpet of Geese

2011-11-04T16:05:00.002-05:00

It is early - 7:00 am. I want to be to work ahead of time to take care of a few things. Elmgrove Avenue is already busy, especially around the 531 entrance. I crest the hill, and glance to the right. It looks like someone rolled a dark carpet out over the grass by the industrial park. I look closer. The carpet is moving!

Then I realize the lawn is literally covered with geese waddling about, preening and sniffing. They make no honking noise. I hear no sound at all, even with my window open. A car honks, but the geese pay no attention. No one flutters about anxiously. No one seems to be eating or digging in the grass. They are just milling about like a crowd gathering for a parade. The next lawn area is also filled with geese. I have never seen so many in one place. Each successive lawn area is graced by the big birds, though the numbers begin to thin out.

And then I am past the space and back to morning traffic. What was that all about? Big migration south? I guess winter must truly be on its way if this huge family is passing through Rochester. I check the rearview mirror to see if they have taken flight, but nary a bird appears. Sure wish I could be there when they take to the air!

Drew's Internship

2011-11-03T22:39:00.001-05:00

You can tell when someone is really into an activity because no effort is too small or unthinkable. Like Drew working as an intern at Post Central. He is excited for the opportunity to see what happens in this field and made his own arrangements for transportation. His idea of how to make that happen?

He plans on walking/jogging from school the 3 miles to Post Central for the one day a week when he is allowed to be there. His last period is a study hall and he figures he can cover the distance in an hour so as to be in place by 3pm. I am not crazy about this idea. But I cannot take off work to drive clear over to the east side of the city and drive him, and he does not yet have his license (or a car for that matter).

His idea for getting home since he will be there for an undetermined amount of time? After he completes his work, he will walk to a plaza where there is a Burger King (about 2 miles back towards school) and sit there until I can come and get him. That might be late since it is a choir night and I am not able to come until after 8:30. Hum. This is definitely not what I had in mind. Good thing he is young and full of energy and strength.

In some ways, it is healthy for him to be put out a bit - this will help him understand more about the problems people have to overcome to accomplish things. It will stretch his own level of commitment. On the other hand, I do not like the idea of him wandering about on major roads. We talk. Next time we will find better arrangements. But for today, he is stuck with his plans.

And judging from his glowing face when I picked him up, it was well worth the effort!

Sleep Study

2011-11-02T21:51:00.000-05:00

I knew it! The doctor has reviewed my study and proclaims that I do not have any sleep disorders or anything like that. I beam. Good news. He glowers. It would have been easy to fix a sleep disorder. Now we have to dig deeper to find out what is really wrong.

Hah! That's his perspective. Personally, I am happy that I do not have to deal with a sleep disorder. Of course, I don't want something else more serious to be wrong either. But I have always slept well and had no trouble doing that.

Then he mentions that he is somewhat concerned that during the night my oxygen levels drop to 89 or 90 on a regular basis, but not due to any obstruction or collapse of the throat area. While that isn't horrible, it is concerning. He suggests that I see a pulmonary specialist. Of course! He makes a note in his report to the oncologist and my primary doctor.

Personally, I still think it is the chemo cough and the multiple trips to the bathroom and the hurting of all the bones and joints that are of more interest, but OK. Might as well follow every lead. Just hurry up and do it before the year ends and I am back to shelling out $6,000 for every little medical thing.

Sad Little House

2011-11-01T23:11:00.002-05:00

Across Orchard Street from the library sits an empty house. The blue siding is faded, the grass overgrown, the windows vacant. It has sat thus for some time and I have often wondered to whom the house belonged and where they have gone. How sad to confront abandoned dreams and memories of someone's life now left to the imagination of the uninterested and uncaring.

Today I noticed a couple of men circling the property, chatting to each other. Perhaps they have purchased the property! But no. Their pickup truck tells me they are workmen come to begin the process of dismantling the poor little place. They begin with the faded blue siding. How easily the house sheds its cover, giving it over without protest. Beneath the shiny aluminum lies brown shingles, an immediate flashback to the fifties.

I suppose over the course of the next few weeks more of the structure will disappear as they remove all traces of what once may have been a happy life. I will be the first to admit that we need more parking space on this campus, but this feels too high a price to pay. I want to capture the value of those who once were there loving, living, caring, doing, being. I cannot. I cannot even name their names or conjure up their visage.

I can almost see the leveled ground already despite the building remnant still standing. It is almost as if they are taking me apart, removing my protection, dismantling my own dreams and security. I take a moment to acknowledge the fleeting nature of life, to think about how quickly the mindless grass will cover any awareness of our time on this earth. Who will remember after I am gone? Who will care that once I was here, that I did things, that I loved people?

Good thing there is an eternity of otherness that will more than compensate for our brief if somewhat frenzied life here. I touch my heart, making sure my ticket is secure just as the workmen throw a pile of siding into the back of their truck.

All Hallows Eve

2011-10-31T22:51:00.001-05:00

The house is strangely quiet. No one knocks on my door asking for treats. No pumpkins flicker yellow candlelight outside my house. No bowl of candy sits by the front door. Drew has deserted me. He is off helping the coach take his daughter around their neighborhood for treats (and hoping to snag some for himself). For the first time in decades I am free and clear of Halloween. Sugar and I settle in for an evening of reading.

I think about past years. When I was a kid, I took great delight in Halloween. How exciting to dream up and create a costume and be something you normally aren't! We lived in a small town, and my sisters and I went all over town collecting bags full of big candy bars and home made popcorn balls. We dragged our loot home numerous times so our bags wouldn't look too full. People often tossed 2 or 3 bars in our bags at once. Sometimes they would ask who we were, and if they knew us, we got the special stuff. For kids who seldom had chocolate treats, we were in heaven. Mom made us freeze the majority of our take and doled it out in our lunches over the course of the school year.

Dad sometimes created a haunted house in the church, of all places! That was before celebrating ghosts and witches came into scrutiny by church leaders who rightly called a halt to such stuff. Dad would peel grapes and put them in paper lunch bags, then have people feel them without looking and tell them they were peeled eyeballs. Or put cooked oatmeal in a container and tell us it was someone's brains. I'm amazed he got away with such stuff, being a pastor and all. But it drew big crowds of kids who normally didn't attend church. The haunted house always ended up in the church basement where Dad told scary stories and rattled chains and had displays of beheadings and such stuff.

When my boys were little, there was a huge push against church participation in Halloween. My kids attended church parties where everyone dressed as Bible characters and played games and we knew the candy being handed out was safe and not laced with razor blades or poison like happened in the 1960s. Still, it's a far cry from the old All Saints Eve, the time when people gathered in churches for protection because they mistakenly thought that souls who had died got one last chance to take vengeance on their enemies before going to their eternal reward.

All last week I heard people complaining about how kids from the city are bused to their neighborhoods for the free candy and how rowdy and rude all these strange kids are. Many of the neighborhoods have agreed to turn their lights off at 7 pm and ignore any knocks on the door. That way they give to the kids in their neighborhood who are little enough to be happy about getting a few treats, and don't have to go broke serving the entire city population.

Another friend talked about having bridge duty. On Halloween numerous volunteers work with the police department guarding bridges because pranksters throw big pumpkins over bridges onto the cars driving beneath. Seems they catch a lot. They work in groups of two and have walkie talkies to call the police as soon as they spot someone. Dangerous work as you never know when someone will pull a knife or a gun. Something is wrong with this picture. I've heard of many caveats about Halloween, but this seems over the edge.

This year I got a picture of my grand daughters in costume - big bird and a princess. They didn't go too many places since my son distrusts the loot and doesn't want to risk them getting something they ought not to get. What a confusing holiday! Maybe we should just come up with something safe and fun to do at home for the night.

Gate Woes

2011-10-30T21:34:00.001-05:00

Saturday. Closing time. The desk students tell me that the gate doesn't seem to want to go down. I amble toward the locks mounted on the wall and insert my key. Nothing. Not a sound, not a click, not a buzz, not a hum. That's strange. The other gate went down just fine.

I can sense the students' impatience. Of course, they are eager to be on their way. I tell them to leave. I will call security and figure out what to do. Security comes. They can't get it to work either. Strange. There is no help for it. We will have to close the 24 hour area and lock the entire building until Monday when facilities can take a look.

There are students in the 24 hour area trying to work on papers. Most of them are good natured about being booted out. One poor gentleman, not a native speaker of English, was troubled. He really needed to complete his paper. I feel badly. I hate to kick him out, but I can't leave him in there with the whole building undone. We lock up. I go home after sending emails to everyone who will need to know over the next few days.

Fortunately, one of the people I emailed had a solution, called security, it worked, and within 2 hours we were back in business. Hurrah! Would that everything could be fixed as quickly. I just hope that student came back and was able to finish. I hate tripping other people up!

MapleWood Park

2011-10-29T22:45:00.002-05:00

Where the rose gardens are - that's what my friend said in her email about where we could walk this weekend. Along the river. I have never heard of the place, but the thought of discovering a local park with roses entices me. I miss Yaddo and have not found anything like it in this area. I type MapleWood into my iPhone and head that direction - not too early mind you. After all, its Saturday and there is no driving need to be up and about at the crack of dawn (even though I will be anyway).

I arrive a few minutes before she does and am amazed to find that there are still many roses in bloom. So many colors - orange, red, yellow, pink. So many sizes - delicate little tea roses, mid sized climbing roses, huge show roses. Some of them have ethereal fragrances that transport you to a more elegant time, a more formal occasion. Others have no fragrances at all. How disappointing. A rose with no fragrance. What a terrible thing.

My friend arrives and we chat while deciding which way to go - towards the city or towards the zoo. We head towards the zoo. To our right down a steep embankment lies the river lazily meandering along in the bright sunlight despite the fall chill in the air. To our left, the back yards of large homes, some formal, some casual. Lots of vines run along the ground but the path we walk is well marked, sometimes dirt littered with dusty leaves, sometimes blacktop, sometimes cement sidewalk.

We chatter as we walk along, the path gently rising and falling with the shape of the landscape. People pass - walking dogs, on bikes, alone, with a friend. We can see below by the river's edge groups of people muddling with nature. There is a second trail paralleling ours but much lower. Ahead we can see a bridge enabling the highway to pass over the gorge. Our path takes us beneath the bridge and we marvel at flowers still in bloom along the stone wall where the warm sun has tricked them into thinking it is still summer.

After passing the bridge, we come to a division in the path. If we go forward, it will take us to the zoo. There are steeper hills there. I am already tiring and I know I must have enough energy to get back to the car. I opt for turning around and heading back the way we came. I am sure I could have gone a bit farther, but I don't want to take chances. We decide that next walk we will start here at the path turn.

I hadn't realized that all along we had been gradually descending. Now that I am retracing, it is all uphill! Not steep, but enough to make me huff and puff. I know I am out of shape, but I want to talk while walking and I find I am not able. Twice my friend stops to allow me to catch my breath. We gaze out over the steep cliff to the river below. How beautiful the trees are with their fall colors, even though we both agree that this fall has not been as stellar as previous falls have been. Something about how the temperature keeps fluctuating. One minute winter is immanent, the next summer has powerfully returned.

At last the parking lot weaves into view and my decrepit body will be able to relax. We spend a few minutes smelling the roses. If either of us knew how to make rose hip tea, we could have harvested a bounty. But then, my friend pointed out, its probably not legal. Besides, I add, who know what sort of chemicals they were sprayed with.

We part ways, each heading for household duties and errands. I promise myself to return to this floral mecca next summer when the garden is in full bloom. I am sure it will be a treat. Today was sumptuous, even without the full floral effect. I wonder if I can convince Drew and Sugar to come with me?

Crazy Week

2011-10-28T21:45:00.001-05:00

I feel a sympathetic vibration with that 12 Days of Christmas song. This week has been packed with all kinds of events:

6 class instructions
5 reference shifts
4 training newbies
3 circ desk assignments
2 doctor appointments
and a host of vendor demos to boot!

I am not complaining. Just a heads up that sometimes I may not have any idea where I am and what it is that I am supposed to be doing here. I will say, despite my chemo-aged body, I am delighted to find that I can take it all in stride and not be so completely done in by end of day. Yahoo! Progress. Keep on trucking.

Christmas Cantata

2011-10-27T22:44:00.001-05:00

In choir practice, we have been working hard on the music for the Cluster Choir event. We have 2 new pieces that we have not yet sung in our own place, much less shared elsewhere, so we have a lot of work to do. And we have indeed been working hard. Not just on these pieces, but music for services, and the three mass choir selections for the year, 2 of which we will sing for services ourselves.

Tonight we spent a considerable amount of time on the harder passages and for a full hour and 15 minutes, have drilled and listened and tried out and spoken in rhythm and clapped rhythms and worked on intervals. We are worn to a frazzle with work. I can't let a rehearsal end this way! I know the perfect antidote to a hard workout. Sing Christmas Music!

I pull out the cantata we will sing this year and we read through the first three pieces. This is a cantata that the choir has not sung in a long time. It harks back to an era of simple melody, telling the story without some slant or twist. It is filled with angels and shepherds and wisemen, just like the Christmas story ought to be. The bass line is straight forward, the harmonies thirds, the melody singable. Yes, they are remembering it. And -- best of all -- they are definitely having fun.

That's better! And on that merry note, we wander out of the sanctuary and chat light heartedly in the hall as we head home, visions of Christmas stars dancing in our heads. I hear familiar carols humming through the air as several people head to their cars. I do want Christmas to come this year. Let's do it up right and just have a lovely time of it.

Cancer Support Group

2011-10-26T23:44:00.001-05:00

This is the second time I am blessed to be able to attend the cancer support group. Tonight, I am moved by my friend who is hurting from her recent treatment, and by the gentleman who is going in for surgery tomorrow. I am sad to hear about a young man who has just been diagnosed with a terminal cancer and who is struggling to hang on. I am distressed to hear that someone I know is near the end. No food or water for the last few days. It is time. She wants to move on.

Make no mistake. This disease is a horrible plague that tortures and tears and torments. Some less, some more, all in more ways than one. It makes me realize how blessed I am right now to be where I am. Out of immediate danger. Out of fear of upcoming unknown procedures. Done with anxiety about the future. I am in a good place.

I can reach out my hand and hold the hand of someone going through places where I have been. I hug my friend who is in pain and whisper that it will pass. I have been there and I know. I can pray for people heading into surgery, for people hanging on to life, and letting go. I understand these places. Not that I have had to let go, but I had to be ready to do that.

I am sobered by the remembering, but not depressed. I dig in but am not overwhelmed. I have been granted that rare gift of eye opening insight that jars you from complacency and malaise back to reality. I am blessed.

3 Little Raccoons

2011-10-25T22:31:00.001-05:00

Traffic is heavy on Buffalo Road this morning. I am slightly late getting to work. I pass the new ACE hardware store, wishing the car in front of me believed that the speed limit on this stretch of road really is 55 and not 35. A truck stops to make a turn, and I glance out the passenger window impatiently.

There in the shoulder of the road lie 3 little raccoons, each stretched out in some awkward position, their fur still sleek and soft. My heart melts. How cruel that all of them met their fate together. Some poor mama coon is lamenting the loss of her offspring somewhere. Or maybe mamas. Perhaps these chilluns were just friends out for a romp in the moonlight.

At least the bodies are not mangled or bloody. Actually, if they were possums, I would suspect they were just playing dead. But I am relatively sure coons don't know that game. The truck turns and the traffic moves on. I continue my own journey, touched by the sadness at the side of the road.

I wonder how much I am missing in my rush to keep on schedule. Perhaps if I had not rushed through here every morning, I could have seen them playing and chasing each other through the brush. I really must pay more attention to life. It can be so fleeting.

Naked

2011-10-24T22:41:00.001-05:00

Just a week ago, Sugar and I were still admiring the petunias planted by the complex office. Their delicate colors and nodding heads did not seem out of place next to the bale of straw or the scarecrow announcing autumn's arrival. Only a week ago the trees were cavorting in dress of red and yellow and orange. Even green.

Overnight, that has all gone away. I am shocked to find barren dirt where once the flowers clustered; naked branches where once the squirrels hide while scolding Sugar for sniffing them out. How did it all change so suddenly? Especially this week when it has been mild and pleasant on the days it wasn't raining.

I know winter is on its way. Some places have already had their first snowfall (some of them measurable in more than inches!). Someone told me they saw white flakes briefly on a windy afternoon (I am not sure I believe them). Today, the plants trumpet their warning. Pull up your sidewalks. Take down your awnings. Stock your woodpile. Winter is coming and soon. They have done just that, pulling deep within themselves to hibernate through the cold hard days, coddling the next generation, knowing they will outlast the cruel cold and ice.

I do not take it lightly. I tug on Sugar's leash and scurry back indoors where my heat is on. As I hang up my jacket, I catch sight of my amaryllis. A lone green shoot is beginning to push through the soil, product of the fat bulb consuming the pot. Even in winter, there is hope. Even in the most bereft and naked season, life cannot help itself from peeking out.

Music Extraordinaire

2011-10-23T23:42:00.001-05:00

Roberts Wesleyan College has a new choral director. This weekend was his premier performance with the chorale. I have heard the chorale under other directors, and they are good, no doubt about it. The kind of concerts where you know the music is challenging and you are proud that the singers have risen to the occasion and seem to be enjoying themselves at the same time.

But this concert was different. From the first song I knew I was in for a rare treat. Here is a choir not just singing the right pitches and rhythms, but being EXPRESSIVE. I hear precious few choirs whose performances are riveting, but this concert was pure delight. I basked in the luxuriousness of the nuances in each piece. Never did I feel I was being manipulated or that there was an attempt to impress the audience with precision and effect.

This director is an artist. And not just mono-stylistic. Some directors do renaissance well, or gospel well. This director had a nice mix of various styles and each song was just right for the kind of music. Here and there, he sprinkled a little "stage business" - cute movements or poses that brought out the significance of the text. Nothing showy or overdone. Just nice touches to music that really said something.

Here is a choir I plan to listen to as often as I can. I hope they will consider cutting a CD. So far I collect recordings by the Robert Shaw Singers, Dei Gloriae, St. Olaf Choir and a few other choirs where the music is more than just sound. I would add this choir to my list in a heartbeat. It was definitely a walk on the delightful side.

All Day Paper Writing Marathon

2011-10-22T21:40:00.001-05:00

Read three thick volumes of systematic theology, then write your core beliefs and how that applies to your ministry in 2,000 words. Right. On it. I try to follow some kind of outline so as to cover all the required bases. I get lost. I try again. I do the math. For each topic, I can only write less than 200 words for the what part and the same or less for the how part. Tight. Words need to be at an economy.

I begin in the morning, hoping to write at least 2/3rds of the paper today and finish up tomorrow. It is like working your way through mud up to your waist. Not impossible, but slow going. Still, a valuable exercise. I find myself reflecting on where my journey has taken me over the years, in and out of solid theological ground, sometimes through swamps, sometimes through deserts, sometimes (but not often enough for my taste) through the verdant pastures of plenty.

By 7 pm, I have had enough. It is not quite done, but well along the path it needs to go down. I am not entirely sure I am satisfying the assignment requirements, but I am within the constraints of space allotted. I will think about this for awhile. It may well be that my subconscious will provide further enlightenment before the turn-it-in date arrives.

It is challenging to consolidate a supermarket full of food into one simple dish.

Girl Getting Off the Bus dancing

2011-10-21T21:33:00.001-05:00

I am sixth in line behind a school bus wending its lugubrious way down Lyell Avenue, stopping to spit mama's kids from its yellow door. I sigh and turn up the radio. This will take awhile. I slouch down behind the steering wheel, car in park, and wait out the little tyke's egress, his legs barely navigating the high steps.

We - the whole lineup - creep forward two feet and stop again. Bus door swings open, lights flash bright red. Little kid with bookbag the size of his torso stumbles down the steps into his mother's arms. He drops his hat. The driver waits until he retrieves it and is safely away from the wheels. Like gumballs in a slot machine, we inch forward another 2 feet, halting once again for the lights and the door and the kid. This could take forever.

Then the sun peeked out. At the next stop, the door opened, and a very tiny girl bounced out of the bus, all wriggling with excitement. She bent over and looked at me from between her legs, her entire face a smile. She was singing away and bouncing and her long brown hair swung about freely. You could practically feel her joy. Happy, happy, happy. Life and laughter and exuberance radiated from her tiny frame.

And then the bus moved on. I carried her joy with me well beyond the road where the bus turned off and the line of traffic melted away. I think I may even have danced a little two step as I got out of the car. How wonderfully infectious.

Morning Moon

2011-10-20T22:31:00.001-05:00

Avast, white slip of moon.
Think you to carry the magic of your realm
into the vibrant day?
See you not the world bathed in light
Cast from the fiery hand of your strong brother,
That same orb of which you are a mere shadow, a vapor?

What good your pale print against bright blue sky?
Can your dreams persuade workers from their destiny?
Blush for shame.
Step aside for magnificence.
Quietly disappear and let reality show the way.

Still,
There is need for dreams to enchant our misery.

Tantalize us from our stupor.
Perhaps in our sleep we build the necessary castles
To sustain our blistered hand and lighten our weary load.

Dream on, little moon.
Bleed into the daylight.
Wrap us in softness.
Still us from our labors
So that we might hear Truth.

Daytime Sleep Study

2011-10-19T23:31:00.002-05:00

How lucky I am to be given the gift of a day for reading. I know most people would watch TV or play on the internet or talk on the phone. After all, being a prisoner in a closed up room makes you want to escape somehow. Maybe not everyone is a claustrophobic as I am. I've tried to explain to people how I believe I got this way, but mostly no one gets it.

I remember when I was a little girl and our family went to visit the Alcoa Aluminum factory in Quebec, Canada. First of all, stopping at customs was a bit scary for someone under the age of ten. Dad told us in no uncertain terms to be Quiet. Not a peep. His serious tone of voice got our attention. The guards, their uniforms, the heavy accented questions, the flashlights shined in our eyes - it was all intimidated to say the least. After the border incident, we drove on in the gathering darkness of a winter's evening.

We smelled the factory long before we arrived. The sulfur was so thick in the air it turned the streetlight glow a dusky yellow. I put my hand over my nose and mouth and tried to breathe as shallow as I could. My brothers and sisters and I, crammed in the back end of a station wagon (way before seat belts even existed) caught little glimpses of a grid of lights, spires of white smoke, huge squat buildings, gates. All that was missing were barking dogs on leashes sniffing out escapees.

Dad parked and we held hands as we tremblingly entered the windowless building and stood in a tiny vestibule where we were greeted by our tour guide, a fat hairy man with pudgy cheeks and a loud voice. After a l-o-n-g and boring speech about subjects I was not interested in, we moved through a heavy metal door into a huge warehouse filled with noisy machines. The guide yelled over the din while I covered my ears and stared at the filthy concrete floor. The smell was horrible - worse than it had been outside.

Somehow Dad and I got separated from the rest of the family. I was terrified that we were lost and might never make it back to the safety of the car. Perhaps my brothers and sisters had already fallen into one of those noisy whirling smelly vats that seemed to vibrate my entire body. I grabbed my father's hand and began crying. There was no way I wanted to go further. I only wanted to go back the way we had come, through the tiny vestibule and outside to find my siblings, and to climb in our car and go home.

Dad dragged me forward as the tour moved deeper and deeper into the factory. Dad found the whole tour fascinating. He couldn't hear me crying, didn't see my distress. When the guide opened yet another door and all I could see was darkness, all I could hear was more noise than ever, and even the smell got stronger, I sat down and refused to budge. I knew that if I went into that room, I would pass out from all the overwhelming assaults on my senses. I would probably die right there, in the middle of the aluminum factory, and my Dad wouldn't even know until he got outside and counted noses.

Dad leaned down. I tried to tell him how frightened I was. I tried to explain that I would die if I had to go any further into this horrid place. But he saw no harm from continuing, so he dragged me by the hand through the door into that dark room. My heart was pounding. My breath came in short gasps. The room was small and all the adults crowded together. On the far side of the room I could see flames orange and red shooting from the maw of a brink wall. The guide talked on and on. Everyone smiled and nodded. I almost threw up.

Dad just kept pulling me from room to room to room, all of them oppressively sulfur stenched, and packed with huge machinery that knocked, banged and made grinding sounds. Suddenly, without warning, we stepped through another door and found ourselves outdoors. Tour over. No pounding noises. No clanging machines. No shouting. Just clear sky overhead with friendly stars twinkling. Granted, the sulphur smell was still overpowering, but I could breathe! I could let go of my father's hand and wipe the tears from my eyes. My brothers and sisters rushed over to ask where we had been.

For once, I could not say a word. My constant stream of chatter was dried up. I wanted to shout "Don't ever shut me in like that again," but all I could do was wobble over to the car and climb in. I practically kissed the ground.

Once you have been shut in like that and scared good and hard, you don't ever want to be cooped up again. Curtains have to be open. Light must come into every room. Windows need to be large and filled with green trees and grassy areas. No boxed in areas are acceptable. You must be able to escape quickly into the great outdoors.

My daytime sleep aide does not know this about me, of course. He must think me strange. After every nap where he carefully draws the dark curtains, I rise and the first thing I do is open the curtains and stand there for long moments, reassuring myself that I am still connected with the world.

Nighttime Sleep Study

2011-10-18T22:30:00.003-05:00

Show up at 7:30 pm with a 2 piece pajama and any medicine you need. Sounds pretty simple. But in reality, sleeping has become quite the ritual of pillow placement and angle elevation for me of late. So I drag along the various pillows that enable me to get comfy enough to sleep, and an entire bookbag of reading that I need to accomplish. At least I can appreciate using the time productively if I have to be here almost 24 hours.

The staff are very welcoming, greet me at the front door and show me to my "suite." I am surprised that the person who will be assisting me is male, but I guess that will work. Its a bit creepy thinking that anyone will watch me snore and drool. He explains the drill and tells me he will be back around 9 pm to wire me up and tuck me in.

I unpack, slip into a tee shirt and pair of shorts (I always sleep in a nightgown - this is weird), and crawl into bed to read. There is no comfortable sitting chair in the room. Too soon, my aide returns and the process begins. He glues wires to my head in various places, alongside my eyes, on my legs with wires that run up over my shoulder, across my chest. I get a nose plug with thermometers to measure the temperature of the air coming from my nose and my mouth. Do they really think anyone can sleep with all this stuff stuck to them?

Here we go. He exits the room, assuring me that if I need anything, I only have to call his name and he will come. He can talk to me if he needs to, and will be watching me via camera with infrared light. Interesting. I go through my normal contortions of trying to get comfortable. One pillow between my knees, one under my arm, the head elevated just so, the foot dangling over the side of the bed. Nothing can touch any other part of my body.

Now I lie still and hope for the hurting to stop. Unfortunately, I have to go to the bathroom, so I call my friend and take care of that. Then the whole process begins again - pillow placement and body alignment and the waiting. It takes much longer tonight - probably the additional stressors. I know I have just about drifted off when I get hit with a coughing spell.

This is my radiation cough thing. There is nothing really there, but my body thinks there is. I sit bolt upright and my aide comes in to see if he can assist. An hour later, after retucking and hurting, I finally fall asleep exhausted, only to wake up because I have to go to the bathroom. Hum. Its going to be a long night. If I get 4 hours of sleep I will be doing well. Good thing they are keeping me all tomorrow and letting me sleep on and off.

It does drive me crazy that they insist on making the room dark. I usually sleep with my curtains open. I prefer the moonlight. Besides, my body is very in tune with the rhythms of the day and night. If I cannot see the sun and moon, my body will get off kilter! At least in the day between forced naps, they let me open the curtain. Still, I spend the day in bed reading because there really isn't any place to sit comfortably.

For the most part, I do not sleep during the enforced nap times. It turns out to be a nice break from the reading, but no real sleep. At last, 5 pm rolls around and I am released to go home. Can you believe it? I am exhausted! Who knew that sleeping all day could make you so tired. At least in my own cozy warm room with the blinds fully raised and the moonlight comfortingly shining, I can get the right pillow placement. I drift off happily, so glad to be in my own bed.

A Good Cup of Hot Tea

2011-10-17T20:18:00.001-05:00

Tea is on my no-no list right now. Black, green, white - all off limits. The tanic acid is too drying to my damaged vocal cords. I sometimes drink herbal teas that don't have the drying effect, but I miss my good old Ginger Green, English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Lady Grey, Peach Black teas. For the most part, if I want a hot drink, I have been just heating water and drinking it warm and plain. But it's not the same.

Today I decide to go for a good, robust, flavor-filled hot drink of real tea. Ahhhhh!!! I drool over the choices and finally decide to go for the Peach Black. I start with cold water, heat to just the right hotness, immerse the forbidden teabag and watch the water turn warm brown with just a hint of orange. I inhale the steamy aroma, breathing deeply past my constant cough. Delightful.

I take a test sip, holding the liquid warmth in my mouth, letting the full impact bathe my tongue, cheeks and palate. Ooooooohhh, so good. I swallow, and feel the warmth caress my uvula, then slide down my throat and into my tummy. I practically shiver with delight. What a welcome treat. I enfold the mug in my hands, letting the warmth seep into my bones while the steam fogs my glasses. My whole body relaxes.

I finally tear myself from my libation, set the mug on my cup warmer, and go back to work. Every few minutes, I reward myself with a sip. I know I will pay for this later with a coughing spell, but I deem it worth the trouble every once in awhile.

Sermonizing

2011-10-16T22:25:00.001-05:00

I don't think of myself as a preacher. But this semester I am taking a class on preaching, so I have asked around for opportunities to practice. College Green, a local senior apartment complex, holds a Vespers service on Sunday evenings, and I was fortunate to be included on their schedule.

That was the easy part. Now I have to come up with a sermon! I have been reading about how to preach but have only actually given a sermon a handful of times. Much more of my ministry involves pastoral care kinds of activities. The books say talk about something you are wrestling with. What am I wrestling with? Well, how to help Mom for one thing. How do you minister to someone who doesn't want you to talk to them?

I gave that some thought and prayer. Here is what I ended up saying:

One of God’s Plans for Dealing with Depression

As a cancer survivor, I see my oncologist on a regular basis. One of the questions she asks me from time to time is whether I am depressed. I always say, “I don’t think so.” And she always responds “If you are depressed, you are the happiest, most upbeat depressed person I know.”

According to the American Medical Association, upwards of 15% of the population in the United States feels depressed.

I know someone like that. Her name is Lillian, and tonight I want to share her story with you.

Lillian became a Christian in her teens, attended a Bible College, married a pastor, raised a family, helped build the family house, and faithfully attended church for nearly 60 years of marriage. Every night, she and her husband had devotions together and kept a journal of their prayers. Lillian was a powerful prayer warrior and saw the Lord answer her prayers, often in miraculous ways.

Then one day her husband was diagnosed with cancer and passed away a few weeks later at the age of 86. For awhile, Lillian’s children marveled at how well she was handling her loss.

Then one day, Lillian said “Why am I here? I have served my purpose, raised my family, took care of my husband. There is nothing left for me to do. I’m just marking time. Why can’t I go home and be with the Lord.”

She stopped being interested in bird watching and reading and quilting, things she once enjoyed. She sits in her chair day after day refusing to engage with life, waiting to die.

It’s difficult to watch someone go through such an experience. Lillian’s children tried everything they could to help her. They took her to psychiatrists and psychologists and geriatric specialists who did their best, but could not touch Lillian’s grief.

They tried pastoral counseling and Christian counselors to no avail. Each of her children talked with her, trying to find the words that would help her snap out of her misery and rejoin life.

I couldn’t help but wonder where God was in all of this. Surely the Bible could offer words of wisdom we could say that would help us reach Lillian and return her joy of living. As I prayed about Lillian’s situation, God led me to this story in I Kings 19.

Let me set it up for you. I'm sure you know the story. Elijah had prayed for a severe drought. It lasted 3 years. Finally he confronted the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. He called down fire from heaven to completely consume a water-drenched sacrifice, wood, bull, stones and all, proving to the people of Israel beyond a shadow of doubt that God is real and powerful and worthy of worship. Because of his boldness, God’s people fell on their face, repented and proclaimed the Lord as their God.

Elijah killed 850 false prophets who had misled the people to serve Baal and Asherah, and then he caused the drought to end through fervent prayer. The power of God came over Elijah and he ran faster than the king’s horse-drawn chariot down the mountain.

In spite of all that amazing victory, when Jezebel, whose prophets had been killed, threatened to kill him, Elijah ran away scared. So in I Kings 19 starting in verse 3 we read:

3“When he came to Beersheba in Judah, he left his servant there,
4 while he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness. He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, LORD,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.”
5 Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep. All at once an angel touched him and said, “Get up and eat.”
6 He looked around, and there by his head was some bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again.
7 The angel of the LORD came back a second time and touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.”
8 So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God.
9 There he went into a cave and spent the night. And the word of the LORD came to him.”

Notice how Elijah isolated himself from those who could have encouraged and supported him. First, he was convinced that he was the only person left who served God. He says in verse 10 “The Israelites have rejected your covenant, torn down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left.”

Then we hear that he left his faithful servant behind and purposely headed out into the wilderness. It is almost as if Elijah wanted to pout and be miserable.

Lillian has done the same thing. She has cut herself off from everyone. She doesn’t want to get letters or take phone calls or be visited by friends or family. She stopped going to church.

Once Elijah was alone, out where there would be no chance of anyone intervening, out where there were no distractions, no comforts, no provisions, out where he could be as miserable on the outside as he felt on the inside, he spoke the bottom line out loud.

He said what was really bothering him. “God, why don’t you just let me die? I’ve had enough. I’m tired. I’ve done more than my share, and without any help, thank you very much. It hasn’t made any difference anyway. That old Jezebel is still in power. The people are fickle and soon they’ll be right back to worship Baal.

What good is anything I have done, anyways? The world moves on and I am left out, a relic of an era long past. I’m not doing any good. Just taking up space, breathing air someone else could use. Go on. Take me home. Let me be done.”

It must have felt good to get the weight of all that off his chest. It was such a relief to be open and honest about his discouragement, that immediately afterwards he fell asleep. No more worrying or fretting or stewing. He had cast his burden on God, laid all his ugly cards on the table, then, exhausted, he gave in to his depression and slept.

Lillian has not yet reached the place where she can say her honest feelings to God, confident that God will still love and care for her. Hopefully she will be able to come to that place.

God’s reaction to Elijah’s tantrum? Thunderbolts? Condemnation? Reproach? Not at all.

First, he began by addressing the isolation. He sent someone to minister to Elijah. In this case, it was an angel who touched him. There is something about physical contact that is so soothing and comforting. It helps us know we are not alone.

Second, the angel saw to Elijah’s physical needs. He baked Elijah some bread and provided, even in this barren wilderness, refreshing water.

If Elijah had really wanted to die, I suspect he would have refused the sustenance. But he got up, ate and drank, and lay down again.

Sometimes the best antidote for depression is food and rest provided by the hand of someone who job it is just to care for us. One of Lillian’s daughter’s has become the nurturer for Lillian, seeing to her physical needs and giving her permission to rest.

Neither God nor the angel told Elijah that he needed to immerse himself in God’s promises, or that he ought to know better than to behave in such a childish way, or that it is sinful to wish to be dead. Nothing about Elijah’s spiritual state is addressed by God’s actions. No preaching. No condemnation.

God didn’t send him a self help book or tell him to pull himself up by the bootstraps and quit acting like a dope. God didn’t say “You are a King’s Son. Act like one.”

God’s response indicates that a display of loving care is needed for someone so discouraged. It is normal and natural to be in such a state.

Like a loving parent picks up and carries a toddler who has worn himself out at the playground, God nurtures his prophet with kindness, hospitality, and patience.

The angel returns a second time to feed Elijah. It takes time and continual ministration of love to help someone move beyond a state of depression, of thinking that their life is worthless, that all their work for the kingdom has left no mark.

Thank goodness God is in the restoration business. Psalm 23 tells us that our Shepherd restores our soul by providing for our needs, by leading us in green pastures and beside still waters, just as He is doing here with Elijah.

This time, just a hint of solution to the situation is mentioned. The angel tells Elijah that the Journey is too much for him unless he takes the second round of provision. Journey? What journey?

Elijah begins to realize that he is not just running away on his own whim. God is with him, and has a destination in mind. How good it must have felt to realize that God had not abandoned him.

Elijah’s journey took 40 days and 40 nights. Elijah, in a slightly better place but not yet out of the woods, walks on and on and on finding neither resolution nor answers. He knows he is out of the line of fire, safe but far from happy.

Elijah’s destination is Horeb, the Mountain of God. This is the important part of the story, the part where God asks something of Elijah now that he has regained some stamina. God’s request was simple. Come to me. This is the third step in God’s plan. God always wants his children to come to him when things are not right.

After finally arriving, and after a good night’s rest, at long last, Elijah is ready to hear what God will say. And what does God say?

This is the fourth step. He asks Elijah to repeat the question. And then, God listens. This is not just some mean poking at a person when he is down or a psychological ploy. God is interested in what Elijah has to say. This is Jeremiah 33:3 “Call unto me and I will show you great and marvelous things.”

Notice Elijah’s statement of the issue. It has changed. No longer does he say let me die because everything I have ever done for you has been pointless. Rather his question is couched in more hopeful terms.

He says, “I’ve been zealous for you. Israel has rejected you and killed your prophets. I am the only one faithful to you, and they are trying to kill me.”

This implies “So, what are you going to do, God?” This is less focused on Elijah, less about Jezebel’s threat, less about the effectiveness of Elijah’s work and more about God.

Once Elijah hears himself ask the question honestly, God still does not give him a three point outline, or 7 steps to victory, or some lengthy lecture. What does God do? He simply says “Elijah, go stand in my presence. Come out of the cave, stand on the mountain of God, and be where I am.” Period.

One simple thing. But Elijah can’t do it. He still wasn’t ready to hear. He does not go out of the cave.

God sends wind strong enough to shatter rocks. Earthquakes. Fires. Wow. Impressive and maybe a bit scary. But none of that touched Elijah’s heart. He could not be forced to listen and more than Lillian’s children can make her listen.

It wasn’t until things quieted down that Elijah finally went out of the cave into the presence of God. The Bible tells us that he pulled his cloak over his face, perhaps in recognition that he was unworthy to stand in the presence of God. Perhaps because of his overwhelming pain. Perhaps because he can’t bring himself to see anybody else yet.

Now God asks the question again, face to face. How much better it is to talk to someone in person! To be able to see their reactions and read their body language.

What are you doing here, Elijah? Can he see that God cares and is seriously interested in what Elijah is dealing with? Once again, Elijah states his case. “God, I have always loved and served you. But the world has changed. It’s not a friendly place anymore. I feel like my life is over. I feel like it’s all been a waste of time and energy, what I have done with my life.”

Hear what God said to Elijah: “Go back the way you came, and go to the Desert of Damascus. When you get there, anoint Hazael king over Aram. 16 Also, anoint Jehu son of Nimshi king over Israel, and anoint Elisha son of Shaphat from Abel Meholah to succeed you as prophet.

17 Jehu will put to death any who escape the sword of Hazael, and Elisha will put to death any who escape the sword of Jehu.
18 Yet I reserve seven thousand in Israel—all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and whose mouths have not kissed him.”

God’s Steps to helping Elijah out of his depression?

First, he was with Elijah and sent him someone to minister to him.
Second, he fed Elijah and helped him rest.
Third, he invited Elijah to come into his presence.
Fourth, God listened to him.
Here is the fifth thing God does. He puts things in perspective with eternity, and gives Elijah both encouragement and an assignment.

Turns out his life is not over. There is work to do. Important work. Maybe not mountaintop Baal- worshiper-destruction and massive conversion miracles. But kingdom work all the same.

He shows Elijah the future, that a new king is on the way in. That the opposition will be taken care of. That a new prophet will take up the work Elijah has been doing and provide him with years of close companionship. And most of all, he shows Elijah that he is not alone because there are still 7,000 who love and serve God in the land.

I think of a friend of mine, Kathleen Merry. She and I were both battling cancer in 2005. We both had bouts when we were able to do little more than just lie on the couch and breathe.

Kathleen wrote about how helpless she felt that she could not care for her family or even handle her own basic needs. She thought she was useless and a terrible burden to everyone. But the Lord reminded her that she could pray. She had lots of time to pray. More than others. And pray she did with fervor unmatched.

What about Lillian? I cannot do anything to fix her situation. I cannot give her any magic words that will snap her out of her depression. But God can help her. It will take time and love, both of which God showers on Lillian every day even though she does not yet see it.

Lillian is being fed and cared for, she is resting. She is plodding through the wilderness on her long journey to the mountain of God. I know now that there is nothing I or anyone else can say or do to address her depression. But I see that God deeply cares for Lillian and is working with her, restoring her, loving her.

When she is ready to listen to God, she will hear his love and encouragement, see things from God’s eternal perspective and know that her work is not yet done. God still has important things for her to do. God will help her understand.

I entrust Lillian to God’s care daily in prayer and hope she comes through her wilderness quickly. I know that God cares about Lillian because Lillian is his daughter. I care about Lillian because Lillian is my Mom.

Amen.

A Day With a Mind of Its Own

2011-10-15T23:57:00.001-05:00

Nothing on my calendar for today - yeah! I need to catch up with reading assignments. I'm not that far behind, but I really need one good day of concentrated reading. But today will not be that day. It is as if people are conspiring to fill my dance card. And I am happy to oblige.

I begin the day cleaning the house, hoping to get everything germ free and in order. I get half done when I find I need to help a friend. I take care of that, and then I remember that I need to send my grand children Halloween cards. I have picked up some beautiful red leaves to tuck in their cards, and I want to send them out before they turn to dust. Trip to the post office.

I discover my iPhone does not track mailing addresses - how strange - so I have to go to the office to get the zip codes, and I decide I might as well stop at my favorite gift shop and select a fall card for Mom. And browse, of course! Then I get sucked into a myriad of emails I need to respond to, planning for Jairus House, ministry to a cancer patient, pay a few bills, sort through my insurance information, take care of my new semester financial aid - the list seems endless, but I make good progress.

Before I realize it, the day is coming to a close (as well as the library) and I need to get going. So far I have read zilch. But now Drew and I must gather supplies and groceries for the week. By the time we get home, dinner must be fixed and eaten and the clock says a depressing 10 pm. Where has this day disappeared to? I am happy to have completed so many little tasks, but really I need to read. Except that I have been looking forward all week to connecting with my best friend in Michigan, and I realize how late the hour, then remember with joy she is an hour earlier.

I pick up the phone and dial. What a wonderful conversation we have - we always do! Really, I need to call her more often. We close our chat and I head to bed, having not cracked one book nor taken the walk I promised to Drew. Tomorrow perhaps I will get to those things. Right now, lights out.

Concrete Fluff

2011-10-14T21:45:00.000-05:00

The light turned red and I slowed to a stop, blinker ticking. Cars on Elmgrove whizz by. Nothing unusual about that. Headed for the Ridge I suppose. In between cars, I noticed something rolling down the road. At first I thought I was seeing things because the moving stuff was the exact color of the road pavement. No, something is definitely moving there. Dragged along by the traffic. What is that stuff?

Pollen? I never heard of gray pollen. It looks a bit like wads of dandelion fluff, but there are massive amounts. There aren't enough dandelions here abouts to create that much fluff. It looks more like the stuff that lines padded envelopes. Sometimes we have one blow up in Interlibrary Loan and the fine gray stuffing gets into every nook and cranny. Yes, it looks like that. I wonder if a FedEx truck blew up.

The light changes. Two more cars zoom by before I am able to turn. Ah! Mystery solved. There in the middle of Elmgrove lies a smashed bag of concrete. It must have fallen off a truck. Part of the paper bag that used to enclose the powder waves forlornly over the drifting mass, as if trying to convince the stuff to stay put. Sure enough, as each car passes the mess, little scraps of the fine powder ball up and roll down the road toward the intersection. Too bad. If Dad were here, he would stop and salvage the leftovers. "Perfectly good," I can almost hear him say. "I can use that."

Perhaps that is what the good Lord says when our lives are in a mess and we find ourselves rolling down the street at the whim of every passing vehicle. He is a master at salvaging busted lives.

I smile and suddenly the sun breaks out of the cloud covering.

Fellow Traveler

2011-10-13T23:07:00.001-05:00

I met with the sleep doctor today. Another test to rule out what is NOT making me feel yukky. We chat for some time about my 8 years of cancer treatments and what that might mean from his perspective. He has treated a number of cancer patients, but my symptoms are not what he normally hears.

It is possible that sleep issues are involved, but he doesn't feel that I have "classic" symptoms. Worth running the tests (thank goodness I have met my deductible and will not have to pay anything out of pocket). He ushers me to the front desk where I sit down to wait for the receptionist to assist me.

We chat while we check calendars, and it turns out she had colon cancer and is on my low fiber, low residue diet (she doesn't mention the no acid part). I ask her what she eats in light of all the restrictions. Here is an opportunity for me to check in with someone who totally understands my dilemma.

She smiles, then says, "Crackers." Really? Yes. She can, like me, eat most meats and white processed bread stuffs. She finds Saltines the most soothing, and we both laugh over episodes of eating forbidden foods that we paid dearly for.

She can't do watermelon - if even the tiniest seed gets through she is in misery. I have had good luck with watermelon so far, but I always get the seedless variety and then am merciless about making sure I only eat the heart where there are no seeds. Not too much because the fiber will get you if you overload.

"So, what else do you eat?" I ask. She thinks for a few minutes, thinking about her recent meals. "Not much. Meat and crackers. Horrible diet. People think I am terrible when I am out in public and I turn down a tossed salad for a roll." I know what she means. I always feel guilty because my diet is so unhealthy. It makes me look like I am undisciplined and uneducated.

Do you know other colon cancer survivors? She does. Quite a few since the disease runs in her family. Their diets have been as restricted as our. She shows me her shoulder. There is an angel tattoo surrounded by different colored stars. She tells me each star is for a family member who has died of cancer. Sisters, parents, siblings, aunts, cousins. Wow. I am sad for her. She is the only one left now. They all died young, but she is my age and has somehow managed to survive. I ask her the secret to her long life. She shrugs. "No idea."

"Maybe its the crackers," I grin.

"Maybe it is," she nods. We will see each other again.

Farewell

2011-10-12T22:16:00.001-05:00

I guess there must be such a thing as a fall rose. This morning I was greeted by beautiful blooms from that same rose bush by the corner of my house that has been so prolific in the summer. I had thought that final rose that appeared at the end of summer would be the last flower for the season, but today I discover not only 2 fully open flowers, but a handful of buds waiting their turn. It is a veritable fireworks display of rosery.

These flowers are even more beautiful than the ones I have enjoyed all summer long. They remind me of the bipolar rose I discovered because the colors are intense, then delicate, then rich, then fragile.

Perhaps they are blooming so beautifully so late because the woman who planted them spent the weekend packing up her belongings and moving. She will not be with us next year. Her daughter took a job in California to be near her boyfriend, and she has found a new love of her life and now that her daughter is gone, she is free to move in with him.

I will miss her quiet gentle smile, her precision in laundry details, her tiny purse sized dog, her lazy window cats, her skill with the flowers about our building. We never got close, but had a number of "over the backyard fence" kind of neighbor chats where you cover a multitude of subjects intensely, then part with a smile.

She was recovering from a broken heart the first year I moved in. So much fallout from divorces. She nursed her wound well, regained her composure and confidence, and didn't wait too long to wade back in. Bravo for her. And the roses are a fitting farewell gesture for the brave woman who nurtured them, the bold summer that encouraged their growth and the blue skies that soon will turn gray. Farewell, one and all.

The Lady in the Red Pajamas

2011-10-11T22:17:00.001-05:00

5:30 AM. Sugar stirs, a low growl coming from her throat. Bad dream? No. She jumps up to the window and peers out into the darkness, the growl growing in intensity. "What's wrong, girl?" I whisper. I scootch over and peer into the darkness. I see nothing amiss. "Go back to sleep."

But Sugar keeps staring out the window. In my sleepy fog, I think someone has turned a radio on. I can hear voices. Sugar whimpers. Its not the radio. Someone is talking. Outside. I carefully kneel by the window and pull aside the lacy curtain. I can hear the voices louder now. I strain to see through the murky morning air, rotating my head from left to right.

There. Standing in the middle of the road. A woman smoking a cigarette. Who is she talking to? I don't see anyone else. I stare at the woman, realizing she is wearing bright red pajamas with cows scattered all over them. Her feet sport fuzzy pink slippers. Her mouth is moving but her words make no sense.

"You better come in now." Who is she talking to? A dog perhaps? Did her pet get away from her? I don't see any animals. "Git home before Bob wakes up." I still see no one. She glances in my direction. I drop down out of sight, embarrassed to be caught evesdropping. I can just see over the window ledge. She is looking at the lawn now, flicking the ashes from her cigarette, brushing her tangled hair from her face. The red of her pajamas is startling in the early gray dawn.

"Who told you that? I don't believe it." She starts walking toward Lyell Avenue. I wonder where she lives. I glance behind her to see if someone will appear, but no one does. Maybe she was talking on the phone and I just couldn't see her headset. She is out of sight now. I can faintly hear her inane comments as she waddles down the street.

Sugar settles down and curls up on the end of the bed, the danger past. I lie down, but sleep is far away, waddling down the street after Red Pajamas, trying to unravel a mystery. What a curious beginning for a Tuesday.

Leaf Shower

2011-10-10T22:06:00.002-05:00

I step outside with Sugar and am immediately inundated with falling leaves. It has been a lopsided autumn. The little trees outside my bedroom window whose leaves usually turn yellow and drop early in August are still green and hanging on to their leaves.

Last week I saw lots of yellow on trees, but no orange or red. Today the leaves falling on my head are all brown and withered. What a strange unveiling. The leaves continue to sift down during my entire outing with Sugar. We stop at the office so Sugar can sniff the new bales of hay and the scarecrow decorations and pumpkins. I am shocked by the flowerbeds. Just yesterday they were filled with red, pink and white petunias. Today there is only dark brown dirt. Where did all the flowers go (to quote a famous song)?

Fall is getting serious about arriving. Next thing you know, we will be staring at bare branches and brown grass. A squirrel dashes past me, walnut in cheek, scurrying to hide food before the snow. My reverie broken, I call Sugar and we too hurry home.

Break Means More Hours

2011-10-09T23:38:00.001-05:00

Today is another glorious day. It would have been wonderful if after church I could have taken another walk in a park. Drew had actually suggested a trip to Letchworth State Park. Turns out they are having their annual miles-long craft show. That would have been grand. But unfortunately, I have to work this afternoon. And in fact, I had to work yesterday after my walk.

It's quiet in the library, but for the graduate students who are not on Fall Reading break, its important that the library be open and available. So here I sit with one student, monitoring the dozen or so people who have need of working on such a glorious day. And in fact, I am able to help with several issues that would have required my input anyways.

I have realized that this weekend is, in fact, Indian summer. The last hurrah of warm weather that we are likely to get before the dreary fall gray and the frozen winter white overtakes the out of doors. It has been a glorious Indian summer. It makes you almost think this reprieve might be repeated in November. I suppose we will not be that fortunate.

I am already thinking about winterizing the car and have unpacked some sweaters and warm jackets. But I can't help thinking about the turtles and swans of yesterday (yes, the mate did show up behind a stand of rushes) floating about in sun lit sparkling water. Surely the lazy days of summer are not that far behind us. Hang on to that memory.

A Walk in the Park

2011-10-08T21:37:00.003-05:00

It promises to be a gorgeous weekend. Warm and sunny, not too much wind. I am determined to try and get some exercise while the weather cooperates. I know I will not walk unless I go with someone else. It is too easy for me to say I am too tired to go or I don't feel up to it. I call my friend and ask.

Yes! She is free and willing. I don't know where to meet, but she suggests walking the canal from Lake Ontario south. We can meet at Charlotte Beach, then drive to Turning Point Park together. She has walked the trail, and is thinking it might be prettiest there. I agree.

Baby decides to pick today to go on Theft System shutdown. I sit in the car waiting for the warning light to clear. A good fifteen minutes wasted. But at last, after calling my friend to tell her I will be delayed, I am on the way. 390 north is not crowded on this beautiful day, but then I understand why. It is closed due to construction a few miles north. I am detoured halfway back home. Phooey. The cards are stacked against me.

If it weren't for my waiting friend, I would have thrown in the towel and gone home. But I persevere. Then my body decides to have a bathroom needy day. Good thing the bathrooms at the beach are still open. Whew! At last I am ready to walk. We follow my iPhone directions to the park entrance and climb out. The view is gorgeous. We walk down shaded paths to a wooden boardwalk stretching out over the shallow canal. We see a single swan dipping into the muddy water. How odd. Swans usually travel in pairs.

Turtles sun themselves, ducks float nonchalantly, and a lanky heron hides itself in the tall bulrushes. Farther down the canal we can see a huge yacht heading toward us. My friend says that where Turning Point Park got its name. Yachts have to turn around at that place because that is as far as the center is dredged deep enough for passage.

I am wearying. We find a log and rest a bit. My friend is worried. Maybe we should go back. But I press on a bit more before turning around. I can feel the sun biting into my face and arms. I am huffing and red faced. But I know its not my heart. That is in perfect shape. So I slow down. My friend says - "I thought we were already going slow!" Ah, this would be why the boys won't walk with me.

I have seen several dogs here, so I am thinking I can bring Sugar (providing she doesn't jump off the board walk after some critter!). My friend has been exceptionally patient. We have caught up on family doings and career moves for her. I am happy to sit when we get back to the car. That was good. I would like to do that more often. At least its a start. Perhaps I can find other walking friends so I don't aggravate too many people too often with my slow pace and physical ineptness!

Internship

2011-10-07T21:17:00.001-05:00

Drew has had a difficult time connecting with the person at Post Central about his internship. His teacher is riding him to meet deadlines and get hooked up. He now has an F because business does not run on school deadlines. The mentor at his place of internship has been traveling and unavailable.

Today, finally, they have a meeting. But there is a transportation issue. This is important enough that I quietly slip away in the afternoon in order to drive him to the meeting. I drop him off, then head to a nearby store to use the facilities. I return to the parking lot just after he has finished his meeting.

He climbs in the car practically glowing. He talks fast and furious. "Mom - you should have seen --- they have all this gear --- they were working on shots from an upcoming movie---doing a commercial for a national chain ---"

On and on he went, drooling over the work, the place, the people, the equipment. He had stepped into a dream world and was overcome with anticipation. It took me forever to wedge in a question about schedule. Turns out he will call them the first week in November and be allowed to shadow after school for awhile. If things go well, later on they might allow him to do some hands on stuff.

He is hoping that he can convince them to keep him on in the summer too. I think he was floating all the way to soccer practice. He so has senioritis! I am happy he is finding what he wants. I just hope he doesn't get too deflated if things don't go the way he is hoping.

New Uniforms

2011-10-06T22:17:00.003-05:00

Drew got new soccer uniforms. With three games left to play in his senior year, Drew was happy that the coach had done some research and identified decent uniforms for the boys to purchase. Of course, coach is looking to next year. Not this one. I tried to convince Drew to stick with the old ones for the end of the season. Couldn't he just make do for a few more games?

But I see his excitement, his happiness, his pride in having the good stuff. I guess it sort of helps make the disappointments of the season a bit less painful. After all, they have only won 2 games. They will make it to sectionals, but it has been a hard year for them. Not one in which they were badly defeated. Always just by a point or two and often at the last minute. No matter. They have played well.

It has been a good sport for Drew. He has learned patience, commitment, good sportsmanship, and a surprising amount about how to be a leader. He believes that a team is only as good as their weakest link, and that the best way to deal with that is to come around that weak link and find ways to encourage and support that less athletic person, help them stretch for their potential without making them feel like they are impeding the team, though at the same time giving them a sense of the value - when to be included, when to sit out. Calling for commitment on their part to invoke participation rights.

Not bad. I know many adults who could learn that little lesson. So I invest not in new uniforms, but in the man Drew is turning out to be.

Achy Breaky Legs

2011-10-05T22:16:00.002-05:00

Oy! Today and for the last few days my legs have hurt and ached and been touchy. It is as if every inch of bone were inflamed, every muscle tight and often in spasm, every joint swollen. I can't think what might have set things off, but it takes the better part of 2 hours to get comfortable enough to sleep at night.

Hot water bottles don't help. Tylenol is pretty useless. I carefully tuck pillows everywhere, making sure no part of either leg is being touched by anything including blankets. I dangle one foot over the side of the mattress, thankful for the memory foam mattress pad. Once I am in the least painful position, I lie still and endure the throbbing aching misery until my hip says time to roll over.

Then I have to go through the whole pillow placement leg dangling routine again. Sometimes there is just no comfortable position. I give up exasperated, get out of bed and climb back in - often more than once - hoping to renew my chance of finding an acceptable position. Sometimes it works. Sometimes I just rock back and forth until I am able to get peace.

Through it all, my head is in constant prayer. I know God is with me here. I can sense his presence. I mutter verses, prayers, psalms, mantras. I am so tired, but my body has not yet surrendered. I hear the kids in the other rooms watching a movie or playing a board game or fixing a snack. It is good to hear normal life events in progress.

I work my way through my list of names, praying for one and then another who comes to mind. And eventually I drift off and manage to sleep well. In the morning, the pain will be gone - as if it never happened. During the day I will be fine for the most part. Once I head for home, I start feeling the aches. By the time I have finished supper, I am in trouble. I have to retire early. If the night would cooperate, that would be grand.

Update on Mom

2011-10-04T22:17:00.001-05:00

Got an email from my brother who works with Mom everyday. He has given up his job to make himself available to help. I give him a great deal of credit. Mom is not easy to be with. He simply said Mom is status quo. Nothing new, but nothing bad either. The little spell she had awhile ago has not been repeated, and she is still mostly sitting in a chair and moping. She eats a bit here and there, but her anxiety levels are not so far off the charts as they were.

I ask about the magazine I sent for her birthday. She complained that she wasn't interested, but she did look through it. Will she allow anyone to read to her? Not yet. At least the TV doesn't have to be super loud all day. And she does walk around the downstairs hallway loop a few times a day.

Its good to know she is no worse. I wish there were some improvement, but that may take years if it ever happens. I still pray for her and for my siblings who care for her every day. I still hope that somewhere along the line, she will come to herself and find peace. I will say that I have discovered in the story of Elijah's depression that God never leaves those who are overwhelmed, even if they want to cut themselves off from the world. And He does send sustenance and hope when they are ready to receive them.

May Mom be open to such ministrations.

Flu Shot

2011-10-03T21:37:00.001-05:00

Today I see my primary care physician. Last time I met with her, I ended up scheduling a boatload of tests, none of which had any indication of why I feel yukky so much of the time. I am not eager to see her again. I expect a lecture about eating better, exercising more, losing weight - its all my own fault.

I know all that. If I could figure out how to eat better without killing my insides, how to exercise when I am so exhausted that I can barely sit in a chair after work is over, and how to lose weight since I can't eat healthy or exercise faithfully, I would DO it! Maybe she could support me financially so I could focus on these things :)

Well, she surprises me today. We have conversations that run something like "Do you think you are depressed?" "Not really, but I am open to exploring that." "If you are depressed, you are the happiest most upbeat depressed person I have ever met. I don't think that's it." "What do you think it is?" "We'll have a better idea of what its not after the rest of the tests are done." "I see."

In the meantime, my vitals are all good - temp, blood pressure, heart, lungs. We discuss whether I could fit a shingles shot in between chemos, but decide its too risky to have a live virus and compromised immune system in the same body. She asks me to present left arm for the seasonal flu shot. Done.

She will see me again after Christmas. We head to the desk to make the appointment. Suddenly she turns to face me and says "You have every right to feel bad. Your body has been through a war. Its no wonder you don't always feel good. It's not your fault. I think you are doing amazingly well. So don't beat yourself up when you have a bad day or two. Its to be expected. You know? Let yourself be OK with bad days. Over time you will improve."

Then she moved on to the next patient. I stood there surprised. Wow. She gets it. When you have been physically abused, your body is bound to hurt. Right. I realize she has to run the tests to make sure it isn't something else, but she also knows I am the walking wounded some days. And since we both know that, its OK. I will eventually figure out how to eat better and get the right exercise and get that weight down. Good.

Wear Yellow

2011-10-02T22:36:00.001-05:00

I get emails from the Lance Armstrong foundation keeping me abreast of cancer research, what's new, how to contribute, how to add my voice to others in asking politicians to fund research, how to help other cancer patients, etc.

They have designated today a cancer awareness day and are asking all cancer patients, survivors, caregivers and supporters to wear something yellow. I don't have their special tee shirt. In fact, I don't normally even own anything yellow in color. But I do support efforts to make people aware of the issues of cancer. So I dug deep in my closet and found something yellow to wear.

No one will see it under my choir robe. That's OK. I know I am wearing it to add my small gesture of support to cancer patients around the world. And I am posting here to let anyone who might be so brave as to read my blog know that I am shocked at how many Americans will have cancer in their lifetime - fully half of our population. That's staggering. And filled with pain and sorrow for both those who survive and are cured, and those who don't make it.

It is a marathon I run alongside many others. So if you have the opportunity to support any initiative that will help stamp out cancer, please step up and help. Let's obliterate this disease from the face of the planet in just the same way we have lessened the impact of diseases such as TB and polio. Thanks.

Missed Retreat

2011-10-01T21:23:00.001-05:00

Lately there have been many opportunities to spend a day taking a look beyond the daily grind and reflecting about life's direction. I wanted to attend the McGowan Symposium - right on campus - and hear Joel Green. Unfortunately, work is so demanding at the moment because of covering unfilled positions and needing to support new people that I couldn't get away.

Community of the Savior offered a day retreat with special leader. I signed up. It sounded wonderful - a chance to make up for missing the symposium. But at the last moment I was emailed by the student staff assistant who is opening the library today. He has never opened and isn't sure he knows the drill. Since the reference librarian doesn't come in until the afternoon, I cannot leave him to his own devices.

I could just come in, help him open, then head for the retreat. But this staff assistant didn't work over the summer and isn't as comfortable with the various procedures. It would not be right to abandon him with a new student worker. Sigh. Retreating will wait. Right now I need to keep our ship on an even keel as much as possible, and for a time, that means extra hours on my part. I stay.

In the end, he really didn't need me beyond the opening, which he walked through on his own with the instructions in hand. But I know he felt better having me around just in case. And that's a good thing. Besides, I did finish reading assignments for class! All in all, a good day.

3 Dogs and a Cat

2011-09-30T21:29:00.000-05:00

If you have a dog, you soon meet other dog owners (sort of like with children, you get to meet lots of parents). Early in the morning, one of the joys of Sugar's jaunts is being able to greet friends and not-so-friends. We have gotten to know a jittery collie who prances nervously and a nonchalant golden retriever who is generally sporting a Frisbee. There are a few smaller dogs we occasionally encounter who will allow Sugar to sniff hello, and lots of bigger dogs that set her off on a frenzy.

This morning, we were fortunate to see the collie, the retriever, and a small brown poodle. Sugar gets so excited she is hard to hold back. She leaps and whines and sniffs the air excitedly. She is as eager to greet the owners as the dogs, and all the women (!) make a big fuss over how cute Sugar is while their dogs looked on, bored.

On the way back to our apartment, Sugar also discovered an uppity cat curled on the window sill of one of the lower apartments. The cat stared at Sugar's antics with great disdain, then lazily and with no show of emotion, batted the window and slipped away under the blind out of sight. Sugar ran in circles for a few minutes, then was off chasing a squirrel.

I am sure Sugar was thinking about how grand the day had begun. I wonder if I will encounter my own 3 friends and an enemy and have as good a time doing so today. One thing I am sure of - its likely I will end up chasing squirrels myself!

Christmas Star

2011-09-29T23:00:00.002-05:00

I have longed for Christmas to come early this year. I am not sure why I want it to be Christmas this soon. Maybe because this has been a demanding year. Maybe because I am tired of battling cancer. Maybe because I am getting old and I need to regain a touch of my childhood. Whatever the reason, I long for some time to curl up in a cozy cocoon of blankets and not do ANYTHING. No schedules, no deadlines, no demands from others. Just peace and quiet. Silence and comfort. Recapture that magical moment when I was a child when the world stood still for my beating heart in excited anticipation of joy and laughter.

To that end, I am beginning to look for signs of Christmas. They are all around me. Today I discovered a pumpkin vine in full blossom. The bright yellow flower was the shape of a perfect star - the star of Bethlehem. Filled with light and vibrancy. Anticipating a special event. I stand admiring its beauty until Sugar begins to whine with impatience. Christmas is coming. Yahoo.

And I move on content in the knowledge that Christmas can be whenever I need it to happen. Like today.

Cancer Support Group

2011-09-28T22:30:00.001-05:00

I have thought about going to the cancer support group at Peace a number of times, but they meet on Wednesday nights when I am usually at the reference desk. This semester for the first time I am not working nights because of the shortage of people for the circ area. So it occurred to me that I should take advantage of this. It won't last - maybe not even for the entire semester since I may end up back at reference once we hire a new person.

I find my way there, and am warmly greeted by people I mostly know. We pray, then watch part of a video that I already own (Psalm 23 for Cancer Patients). We divide into patients and care givers to reflect on what we have seen. After introductions, we patients share our experiences a bit. Some are new to cancer, some like myself have been at it a long time.

A few cry openly, pressed by their experiences. Some try to laugh it off. Others are quiet like myself (and I am not usually one of the quiet ones, as you know). None of us pretends to know the answers. All of us want to encourage others as best we can. It is clear we are a fellowship of kindred spirits who, like it or not, are walking the same path.

I have never found support groups to be helpful before. Usually they are sessions of weeping and wailing that wallow in the muck and make no progress. Or they are filled with advice that, while well meaning, is not helpful. But tonight is different. I can just sit and allow myself to feel the full extent of what I have had to go through without needing to "make it better."

We have so few places where we can lament without making others feel bad. This is one rare opportunity to let those feelings surface and be voiced (aloud or silently) as we stare at each other, battle wounds and all. We remember having no hair like one woman, or thinning hair like another woman, or aches and pains like one of the men, or fatigue to the point of just focusing on breathing, like another person. We know what that is like.

And we give each other permission to cry about it. The counselor sitting with us has had cancer herself. She knows the importance of acknowledging the crap. She does not tell us any magic formula for learning to be happy despite the pain. This is good. I can't do this with friends who don't know what cancer is. They want to make me feel better. I sure can't do this with my children. They don't want to think about it. I can no longer do this with my Mom because she has retreated into her own world of pain. If I mention it to a doctor, they send me for tests.

So this is welcomed. A place to just feel bad for awhile. To raise our fists in the air and say "this stinks." And know that someone understands that. We do not wallow in it. We do not pull ourselves up by bootstraps. We do not DO anything. We just are. We are honest. And that is good.

Orange Delivery

2011-09-27T23:52:00.002-05:00

Drew had a hard time getting up this morning. I must have called him a dozen times, urging him to hurry. He stumbles about trying to get ready, dropping stuff, mumbling. At last he heads out the door. I look at the clock. He is very late and I wonder if he will even make the bus. But after ten minutes I assume he managed to get to the stop on time and I return to my own preparations. Bzzz. My phone goes off. A text from Drew on the bus. He forgot the oranges he so carefully cut up last night for the team to consume at half time in today's game.

I snort. No way I can do anything about that. Too bad. I am sure the team would have appreciated it, but oh, well. My conscience pricks me soundly in the back of the head. "You could take them to him." What? I don't have time. Why should I waste gas running them clear to the other side of the city when its his own fault he was lazy getting ready? That won't teach him anything about responsibility. He is nearly an adult out on his own. Don't pamper him. Besides, people will think he's a Mama's boy.

But I know that there is a better way. I flip through my schedule for the day and think about this. I could swing by the apartment during lunch, pick up the oranges, and drive out to the school. It means I either skip lunch or eat in my car while driving (risky at best). But I remember being a senior in high school, struggling to keep up with all the activities and homework and social stuff. I know he is a good kid and that if I do this, it will have a broader impact for a longer time than if I tried to teach him a lesson. Sold. I will do it.

Traffic is not so bad for lunch hour. I put in a CD of Christmas music and eat a hard roll as I wend my way east. He and I connect in the hallway by the office and I hand off the fruit. He is leaving for the game in a half hour. Timing is good. He starts up the stairs to head back to class, stops, turns around, comes back and gives me a hug. "Thanks, Mom." Then he disappears in a swirl of student bodies passing classes.

Bonus. Sweet.

Charity

2011-09-26T19:52:00.002-05:00

I have not figured out how to deal with bipolar people. I just don't have the answers to how my responsibility relates to their unwillingness to do what needs to be done, like stay on the meds. Somewhere mixed up in all of this is the idea of knowing how to love someone unlovable. There is much talk about being a loving person in the Christian community, but I am not convinced that when the rubber meets the road we are truly doing loving things. I feel all awash and ashamed of my response towards someone out of control and obviously in desperate need. Here is how it makes me feel:

CHARITY

In the early gray of dawn
I head to the kitchen to get ready for work.
Some dark form lies on the floor, obstructing my path.
It is my brother, lying there bleeding.
I step carefully over him so as not to come in contact
And get my pants bloody.
I fill my water bottle, eat my yogurt, and drink my tea,
Careful not to look his way.
After all, I am busy.
I have obligations to meet.
I am a single parent and I work hard – two jobs mind you.
Besides, it is clear from his distress that it will take a professional to fix this mess.
Even if I started to help, I just can’t do it all.
I would never allow myself to get into such a state.
He could have avoided it by doing what he should have.
Not my fault he is hurting.
If I help him, where will it end?
How many other bleeding bodies will be dumped in my kitchen?
No, he will just have to get himself to the doctors
Where he can get the help he needs.
After all, that’s why we have clinics.
Still, I suppose it is the Christian thing to do.
I throw him a couple of bandaids from my purse,
Extras I carry around in case of emergency.
They are a bit worn and wrinkled and I should get fresh ones anyway.
I head off to work feeling good about myself.
Hope he is gone by the time I get home.
Bad enough I will have to mop up the blood.

Chiming In

2011-09-25T21:51:00.001-05:00

"What would you like to play in chimechoir this year?" I ask The Saints, my chime ringers. After all, if you are going to work on music and learn it, wouldn't it make sense if the song were something you knew and liked? I am constantly selecting music I grew up with, music that I assume to be standards that are well known, only to discover that my ringers have never heard of the piece!

They pore over the repertoire books and make a list of the pieces they would like to ring this year. After the excitement dies down, I take the books and the list home, lie on my bed and compare the two. Several pieces are listed more than once. I check those first to see how difficult they are and whether we are advanced enough to ring them without killing ourselves.

Some of the are doable, some a stretch, and some out of reach at the moment. I cross some titles off the list and circles others. Then I look at pieces that are too easy for us now - isn't that marvelous! We have advanced. I cross them off. I look at pieces that don't fit easily in the liturgical year and cross them off. I am down to a handful of selections that I think can be reasonably done.

I try out the order against the seasons of the church year to see what might make good sense. I find a good fit for the fall lineup. How Great Thou Art at a challenging but not undoable level for November. Two arrangements of Christmas carols for December, and one easier hymn for October. Yes. That will work. And I know the pieces for November and December will go over well because they both received numerous votes.

I like this process. They provide input and I provide oversight. It works well.

Reflections and Ramblings

Snow!

Happy New Year 2012

Kidney Stones

12 Days of Christmas

Catching Up

More Reading

Mammogram

Reading

Christmas Poem

Christmas Eve Services

Last Minute Shopping

DeDecorating and Soup

Setting It Up

Advent Chapel

Empty Library

Chime Choir Lunch

Missed It

Christmas Cards

Winding Down

Packed Day

Rose Miscarriage

Poinsettias

Christmas Cantata

Christmas Brunch

FedEx Dud

Pulmonologist

Man Down

Thinking of Michael

Simulcast

Another Sermon

Cantata Rehearsal

Snow!!!

You've Got Your Nerve

2 Candles

Winter Fog

Back to Work

Carting About

The Paper

Black Friday

The Day After

Chemo

Getting Ready

Unexpected Bonus

I Am Thankful

Thanksgiving Arrives Early

Dark Takes Over

SNOW!

Mailing Katie's Present

Great Crepes

Darn Cough

Cluster Choir

Kicking the Chicken

That Darn Woman

Clean Teeth

Late Night

Blue Skies

Out Sick

Long Day

Pretty Sugar

A Carpet of Geese

Drew's Internship

Sleep Study

Sad Little House

All Hallows Eve

Gate Woes

MapleWood Park

Crazy Week

Christmas Cantata

Cancer Support Group

3 Little Raccoons

Naked

Music Extraordinaire

All Day Paper Writing Marathon

Girl Getting Off the Bus dancing

Morning Moon

Daytime Sleep Study

Nighttime Sleep Study

A Good Cup of Hot Tea

Sermonizing