Living and Loving
Do you remember wanting to be old enough for kindergarten? Old enough to stay home alone? Old enough to babysit? Old enough to drive a car? Old enough to vote or drink?
Remember when you thought forty was old?
One of the best things about age is its relativity. I was mother to a 3-year old. My nephew was riding in the car with me. “Aunt Deb, you could pass.”
Looking around, I saw no other vehicles, “I could pass what?” I asked.
Motioning to my hands on the steering wheel, he said, “You could pass for a teenager.”
I was 19!
Do you remember the Ivory liquid commercial with the teenager and her middle-aged mom comparing hands? In that commercial, the mom’s hands could pass for those of a teenager because she used the correct dishwashing soap!
I am now old enough to know my hands could not pass for those of a teenager.
I’m glad.
I sometimes miss seeing my younger self in the mirror. I am surprised by the crepey skin.
I’m glad I’m old enough for more important things.
I’m old enough to choose comfortable shoes.
Remember the pointed-toe spiked-heels?
I am old enough to value women friends.
Gone are the days of blowing off our girlfriends because we got asked out by a boy.
Old enough to be honest about what we want. That was quite an adjustment.
“No, I’m really not comfortable with thus and so; given the choice this is what I’d do or where I’d go.”
I remember the summer morning in 1995: robins singing, sun streaming through the window. I sat on the sofa and I knew—with every fiber of my being—I was going to spend the winter in Tennessee bonding with our new grandchild who was due in October. “I am going to go to Tennessee for the winter,” I later told my husband, “I hope you can get your ducks in a row so you are able to go with me.”
Gloria is in her 90’s. Buried her son when he was in his 50s. She says about that, “By far the hardest thing I’ve done.”
Nancy’s in her 80s. She takes her therapy dog to hospitals and schools three days a week and still maintains her house and garden.
I’m not yet 70, but I’m old enough. Caroline Myss writes, “But now I feel that I have reached that age where I can speak more openly about the hidden realm, mysticism, and the wonders of all things holy and Sacred.”
I am old enough to know I would rather be close than right. I would rather be honest than accepted.
I am old enough to know that just because not everyone one talks to dead people doesn’t mean I am crazy because I do. After all, I don’t just talk to them, they talk to me.
And I am old enough to know we don’t have to agree to agree to be kind and compassionate.
Ah, yes, old enough for that….
1/15/2017 ~ Debra Basham
Twenty-seven years ago today, I became a grandma. Grandparenting has been and is one of the most glorious roles of my life, but I often say I went kicking and screaming into it. I was only thirty-nine when our daughter, Stacey, told us she was expecting. I was working full time. I did volunteer work. I traveled. I felt like I was not only too young to be a grandma, but also too busy.
Our family has been laughing about all of the quirky names people come up with for grandmothers. Me Me, Nana, Memaw, Gigi, Yaya, Mawmaw—to name a few. My grandchildren (and countless others) call me Gammie. I wonder if I am not alone in sometimes resisting the wonderful but new.
What I know is that I did not think about that name. It is something that slipped out of my lips like the oohs and aahs at the Fourth of July fireworks.
Early Monday morning on January 8, 1990, that is how I introduced myself to my first grand, Bradley Joseph Zelenak. “I’m your Gammie.”
Last year I wrote a grandmothers memory book for him for Christmas.
Brad has the only copy for now but I may publish a slightly different version because the pages are sprinkled with wisdom he came to share.
It is truly amazing how your sweet heart and beautiful mind processes life. The day we carved your first pumpkin it was getting late and your mom wanted you to get into the bath, but you were still having fun with your jack-o-lantern. Your grandpa had the idea to bring your pumpkin into the bathroom.
While you can’t always have a bath by jack-o-lantern light, you can almost always enjoy a soaking bath by candlelight. In the summer of 1997, you were in the tub. You had your entire body submerged, with just your face sticking up out of the water. Because your ears were covered, you were bellowing out very loudly.
“GAMMIE, I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY PEOPLE ARE SO UPSET PRINCESS DIANA DIED. DON’T THEY KNOW SHE IS IN HEAVEN WITH GOD?”
Knowing you were attending a church in the Bible Belt, I wondered what you thought about where heaven was, so I tapped you on the shoulder and motioned for you to sit up so you could hear me. “Buddy. Where do you think heaven is?” I asked.
Submerging yourself again, you answered the question. “WELL, GAMMIE, IT IS RIGHT HERE; IT IS IN OUR HEARTS.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that your precious view of life had not been washed away by dogma.
Over the years, we shared many conversations about the meaning of life. The depth of your thinking has been consistently remarkable at every age.
I recall our being in the car one day. You may have been about four. You said you wished you had a great big house. I asked why you wanted that. You began to list off everyone in your life. You wanted us to all live together. It made me feel sad to know you were always without someone you loved.
Another time, your grandpa and I took you fishing out at Pitcher Lake. When your grandpa caught a fish, you said to him, “I wish I was you.” Isn’t it remarkable that you did not say you wished you had caught the fish instead of your grandpa? Your disposition was so filled with empathy. You knew you would have liked to have the experience of catching a fish, but you would not have that at someone else’s loss.
I know your life is still just unfolding, but I can see you as an important being in the world. Every stage of your life you are more aware than most. You are loving, and kind, and generous, and thoughtful, and you have a way of seeing the world that is broader than most.
And here you are, turning twenty-seven. You recently turned down a big promotion that would have required a move because you were not willing to do for money something your heart was not in. I am still learning lessons from you.
Happy Birthday, Bradley, from your Gammie!
She was at a picnic with some of her church friends when she was drawn to a beautiful autumn tree. She spontaneously walked over and gave it a hug.
Then suddenly she felt a strong urge to tell the Bible story of Zacchaeus, a tax collector. A short man, wanting to see Jesus, he climbed up in a sycamore tree. The story says that Jesus looked up in the tree, called Zacchaeus by name, and told him to come down because Jesus was coming home with him. Shocking.
As she finished telling the story, a man in the group called her over to see something he had on his computer screen.
“I thought you would appreciate knowing that the tree you just hugged is a sycamore,” he said.
These are sacred stories. Have one to share? Send email to debra@scs-matters.com.
Perhaps you remember having heard the name Dr. Saul Shaye. If not, I certainly hope this post gets your attention.
I had swollen feet after the drive home from Tennessee for our Thanksgiving visit. I chalked that up to having eaten way too much junk.
On Sunday (Christmas Day) I had edema. On Friday evening, we had had friends in for bunko and heavy hors d’oeuvers. I indulged in salami wraps and cocktail franks and sausage balls. Christmas Eve we did fondue with the kids. Again, these foods were much more sodium-laden than is normal for me.
The swelling did not go down overnight, and it increased some as I was on my feet during the day so I still had some puffiness Monday. Tuesday I spent about 12 hours in the car.
I confess to having a bit more angst about health stuff since my blood pressure crisis this past May. I had another spike in my readings (thankfully not as high as in May) the week after Thanksgiving when I was at the foot doctor for a recheck.
This is what my feet looked like on Tuesday evening when we stopped for the night:
That is when Dr. Saul Shaye popped into my mind. I sent him an email message, with the photo of my feet and told him, “I would appreciate a distant healing session at your earliest convenience.”
My phone rang.
I have previously written about having been a demonstration subject for Dr. Shaye. (See Spiritual Healing.)
The following day, we did more driving, and then I was on my feet for hours and hours unpacking. It was a very long day and I was exhausted when I crawled into bed, but the edema was gone!
If my relief of symptoms was all of the story, it would be amazing, but as I was busy unpacking I received a frantic text message from a friend. Her adult son, living out-of-state, has struggled with alcohol addiction. Earlier this fall he had a severe incident, and although he had said he would come home for Christmas, he did not show up.
She made some calls and discovered her son had not shown up to work. Because of the earlier incident, the police were dispatched to his apartment. The police confirmed that he was drinking again, but since he said he was not feeling suicidal they could do nothing.
Her son was not answering his phone. Her husband was driving there, terrified of what he might find when he arrived mid afternoon the following day.
I suggested she have Dr. Shaye do a surrogate healing for her son. It would help her, and it could not hurt her son. She made contact and received the healing. She wrote, “Dr. Shaye went through me to my son, but I felt a huge shift and then a touch on my sternum.”
This text message came from her earlier today:
I just got a voicemail from my son saying he was in the same medical unit he was in earlier this year. He gave me the code so his dad could get in. I also got a call from the Human Resources department where my son works. They sent him leave papers, which means he could still have his job! I now have the number of the friend who took him to the hospital.
Fortunately we never have to know how things might have played out for my friend’s son without the spiritual healing session with Dr. Shaye, but even the most skeptical personalities can not miss the significance of the timing of his distant healing. And we may never know what caused the edema in my feet to dissipate.
But don’t just take our word for it. Check out Dr. Shaye’s free ebook, Bigger Little Book of Miracles. Who might need you to have a healing experience yourself and then share it with them? I certainly appreciated having just had that experience when my friend reached out in desperation. And I have great appreciation to Dr. Shaye’s willingness to be such a clear channel.
The cost? $30.
The result? Priceless.
I applied for the position of an “Opinion Columnist” in our local newspaper. A good friend/writer colleague had suggested I apply.
It might seem odd to those who might think a committed spiritual person may not have a lot of interest in the things of the world, but that is untrue. We care deeply about all of life, and we recognize our life in this world as the richest venue for development of consciousness.
Admittedly, spiritual practices are not the most commonly recognized ways of making a positive contribution.
For example, this quotation by Lewis Thomas that was the WORD FOR THE DAY from Gratefulness.org today: Society evolves not by shouting each other down, but by the unique capacity of unique, individual human beings to comprehend each other. An entire program of Nonviolent Communication has been developed by Marshall Rosenberg.
When I opened the Thought for Today from Deep Spring Center, Aaron’s words fit beautifully:
When groups get together to make a statement such as about the war, it’s easy for the fear elements of the group to become the most loudly heard. Thus in your present world it is all the more important that those of you who have some clarity and know how to be present with your fear with spaciousness, step forth and become an active voice for a force of change, a true expression of soul force, or satyagraha. You must be willing to actively involve yourself with the world rather than withdrawing from the world, for it is only by the modeling of you who are more clearly that others can learn such clarity.
Satyagraha is the idea of nonviolent resistance (fighting with peace) started by Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhi used satyagraha in the Indian independence movement and also during his earlier struggle in South Africa.
The best way to understand this idea is to be honest about what I am feeling. If I am feeling angry, I am adding anger to the pot. Fortunately, it is possible to desire change, to speak up against things like cruelty or injustice, and to do so with a heart of genuine love. I can even feel compassion for those I am calling forth a different behavior from.
The Kusala Sutta from the Buddha speaks clearly to this idea:
Abandon what is unskillful . . . One can abandon the unskillful. If it were not possible, I would not ask you to do so. If this abandoning of the unskillful would bring harm and suffering, I would not ask you to abandon it. But as the abandoning of the unskillful brings benefit and happiness, Therefore, I say, ‘Abandon what is unskillful!’
Cultivate that which is skillful. One can cultivate the skillful. If it were not possible, I would not ask you to do it. If this cultivation of the skillful would bring harm and suffering, I would not ask you to do it.
I will let you know if I get the columnist position. It is a nonpaid job, but my opinion might just be very valuable.
In the meantime, just remember it is possible!
His friend had died of a drug overdose.
The day after the wake, he found a dime in his suit jacket pocket.
Two days later, on the way home he had chills and goosebumps and his friend’s photo fell off the visor in his car.
The next day he found a dime in a jacket he had not worn for a year.
After his grandpa passed, his grandma started finding dimes. His grandpa had told her anyone could send pennies from heaven, but she would get dimes!
These are sacred stories. Have one to share? Send email to debra@scs-matters.com.