Debra Basham

Living and Loving

Tag: Yellow Brick Road

  • Seesaw and Ups and Downs

    I just spoke with a dear friend. She is my sister from another mister. We are soul mates, and we have such sweet sincere respect and love for one another. We were sharing about the privilege of lifting one another up, and being confident we always get our turn. The metaphor that popped into my mind is that of a seesaw.

    Seesaws (also known as a teeter-totter) were commonplace on the playgrounds where we grew up.

    The seesaw is supported by a single pivot point. As one end goes up, the other goes down.

    My heart is filled with compassion for so many in our world. Irma has left many homeless, even if some only temporarily. It will be a long while before things settle to a new normal.

    A friend here in Michigan fell and is now in the hospital in horrific pain made worse by his blindness. He has lost his sister and his brother and now lives alone.

    What is an appropriate response? The following email message came from my teacher/friend, Barbara Brodsky, and her teacher/friend, Aaron. I have not asked permission to share it with you, but I know they will be glad to have you take it to heart and to share it with others.

    Dear friends,

    I have been watching the news and weather through the weekend with sadness, as I know is true for many of you. Harvey caused (and continues to cause) so much suffering as people lost homes, livelihoods and even lives. Irma will continue such suffering. Deep Spring Center is a national/ international sangha. In the past weeks and this week, I have spoken to friends in Texas and now in Florida, who have lost homes, have had to evacuate, and have felt bewildered and afraid. Such pain is a natural consequence of such uncertainty. We cannot fix it for ourselves or others, only hold it all in love.

    My first tendency was to think, “I offer you love,” whether it be to a person, place or situation. Aaron reminded me that to offer love is a subtle act of separation. It’s better than nothing, and does help, but it is also me, separate from you, trying to give you something to help your pain. It is a statement that it is your situation and pain though, and I need not experience it directly.

    He asked me to substitute, “I hold you in my heart,” with the recognition that we are one. “Your pain and my pain are one; your loss and my loss are one.” As in that beautiful chant with the lines, “because I am in you, and you are in me.”

    The natural human tendency is to want to separate ourselves from pain, from chaos and from helplessness, and to feel safe and in control. But life is often not that way. Acknowledging this truth, can we allow ourselves to be truly vulnerable and be touched by our pain?

    Please join me opening your hearts to our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers, our children, ourselves, in Houston, the Caribbean, Florida, and also in Mexico that has just suffered a strong earthquake, in places where there is war, and in the parts of the world where people go to bed hungry and sick. Please join me with the loving thought, “I hold you in my heart. Your pain and my pain are one.” In this way, the true energy of Love becomes available to all. We are not helpless; this is something real, to open our hearts to our own and the world’s suffering. We are bigger and stronger than we think.

    May all beings everywhere be free of suffering.
    May all beings dwell in the Heart of Love.
    May all beings everywhere find freedom and perfect peace.

    With love,
    Barbara and Aaron

    Some days we are up physically and down emotionally. Other days we are up emotionally but down physically. Whether the storms of life have you at the top of the seesaw where it is high and dry or the bottom where it is flooded with pain, we are able to know the truth of the ups and downs. As Barbara and Aaron expressed, “May all beings everywhere be free of suffering.” We are bigger and stronger than we think.

  • Dealing with Devastation

      Please be extra gentle with yourself during these highly charged, transformative times. We are all so beautifully sensitive to the collective experience – and especially right now.

      We are sending our blessings to those in the many places where there are wildfires, floods, and approaching hurricanes. Peace, love, and blessings to all people, all creatures, and all lands everywhere. So many new beginnings are underway. ~ Matt Kahn

    This photo was posted on Facebook by my son-in-law, Doug Dodge, along with his comments about yesterday’s hurricane damage: One of my favorite places in the BVI’s (British Virgin Islands). This is a picture of one of the rental fleets. They have total devastation and nothing left. We have met some great people over the years that live there and our hearts go out to them. Their only income is tourism and they have nothing to offer now. Please keep them in your prayers.

    At the time of this blog’s writing many friends and family and people we may never know across the state of Florida and other parts of the southeastern US are dealing with the anticipated devastation related to hurricane Irma after seeing what she has already done. This all makes me aware about the need to plan for dealing with devastation.

    Some will blame God, others will blame humans for accelerated global warming. Many will be second-guessing choices they have made to build, live, visit, stay or go. It is natural to be awash with emotions as we anticipate and/or witness devastation, but blame and remorse are not helpful.

    Perhaps Ira Byock’s book, The Four Things That Matter Most, now updated for its tenth anniversary, can offer us some advise. Byock says four simple phrases “stating the obvious” allow us to experience the benefits of letting old grudges and toxic emotions:

    “Please forgive me.”
    “I forgive you.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I love you.”

    And there are things we can do. We can give money to organizations we know are responsible with their dollars and have good sense about what is helpful at what time. We can pray. We can also do Tonglen to assist in the processing of all of this collective emotion. If you are new to the practice of Tonglen or you will benefit from a refresher, please read “Terrorist Attacks and Tonglen.”

  • Follow the Energy

    Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, way back in the sixth century B.C. said: “You cannot step twice into the same river.” This is because the river is in flux. Perhaps it is also because we are always changing. I certainly was aware of this truth while attending a Level 1 Healing Touch workshop at the VA in Hines, Illinois. I attended my first Healing Touch Level 1 in February, 1995.

    Accompanied to the workshop by my friend, Norleen, my heart was filled with compassion for the nurses whose work days are rife in life-or-death actions. Instructor, Ann O’Malley, tells us to ground and center, attune to the universal healing energy and the person we are working with, and to “follow the energy” because “you cannot do it wrong.”

    This class is all women, most nurses working with Veterans here at Hines VA.

    We learn the basic healing sequence, practice on/with one another, and find ourselves changing, just like the river.

    Since my first Level 1 Class in 1995, I have had the honor to help many individuals become aware of the subtle healing energies. I have great respect for Ann, and I am grateful she is still teaching after all these years. I am profoundly aware it is good for each of us to be here in this class and simultaneously good for our world that we can be open and willing to learn and share the truth.

    During the last weeks of my brother-in-law’s life, as he and his family dealt with his increased body restlessness, I offered to share some of the Healing Touch techniques that might lessen or abate some of his symptoms. In our class Ann stresses the ethics of always asking permission before sharing Healing Touch. She tells of a man who sat in her chair for a demonstration at a health fair. When she sensed he was not open, she asked him if he wanted to receive the Healing Touch. He admitted his wife had made him come and he did not believe in it. She suggested he be honest about that and allow someone else to come. He left the chair.

    We must be open.

    We must be willing.

    Sunday morning’s Thought for Today from the Brahma Kumaris seems so very timely: I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by belief.

    I am grateful my brother-in-law was admitted to Hanson Hospice Center and that he passed peacefully. In the last minutes of his earthly life between 3 and 5 a.m., I was awake. (See Shadow Work)

    I toyed with the thought of getting dressed and going to Hanson Hospice Center, but determined I could just as easily offer support from home. As I settled onto the sofa in the great room here in the tiny house, my heart went automatically to the Healing Touch technique called Chakra Spread, often used in hospice care for the terminally ill. You begin by holding the sole of one foot with the palm of your hand and the other hand on top of the foot or ankle. Then you do the same to the other foot. Next, you do a thumb-lock handshake with your other hand on the back of the client’s hand. Repeat with the other hand.

    Moving gently from about a foot above the head you slowly and tenderly spread each chakra three times: Crown, Brow, Throat, Heart, Solar Plexus, Sacral, Root, knees (done together), and ankles (done together), then slip the “earthy boots” or “worldly cares” off the feet. This entire process is repeated three times before you return to one hand and hold it in the thumb-lock handshake again as you place your other hand over the person’s heart.

    This is often taught to a family member or loved one. Rather than sit in fear or sadness, it is a way of praying with your whole body, mind, and spirit.

    I fell asleep on the sofa after doing the chakra spread and it was shortly before 5 a.m. when my husband came in to tell me his brother hand passed. It was wonderful to have the song No Longer Slaves sung at his service.

    “No Longer Slaves”

    You unravel me with a melody
    You surround me with a song
    Of deliverance from my enemies
    ‘Til all my fears are gone

    I’m no longer a slave to fear
    I am a child of God

    From my mother’s womb
    You have chosen me
    Love has called my name
    I’ve been born again into your family
    Your blood flows through my veins

    I’m no longer a slave to fear
    I am a child of God

    I am surrounded
    By the arms of the father
    I am surrounded
    By songs of deliverance

    We’ve been liberated
    From our bondage
    We’re the sons and the daughters
    Let us sing our freedom

    You split the sea
    So I could walk right through it
    My fears were drowned in perfect love
    You rescued me
    And I will stand and sing
    I am a child of God.

    Yes, I am
    I am a child of God
    I am a child of God
    Yes, I am
    I am a child of God
    Full of faith
    Yes, I am a child of God
    I am a child of God

    I’m no longer a slave to fear
    I am a child of God

    Janet Mentgen, beloved founder of Healing Touch, encouraged all Healing Touch students and practitioners to “Just do the work!” Her personal goal was to have each human on earth bring light with every step that we walk. What gift. We can just follow the energy. We do not have to worry that we are doing it wrong. Hallelujah!

    I am so honored to have spent these two days with my friend Norleen and these other brave women. May all be no longer slaves to fear….

  • Shadow Work

    Just as we now have a new address, so my brother-in-love, Jim, also has a new address. Jim was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer this past November. Although a very difficult time, he and his family found gifts tucked inside the days. He passed from this life today about 5:00 am.

    I am choosing to hold on to what I know to be real: within every experience I have the opportunity to learn love. This is brought home by a very stressful interaction with our granddaughter who is here visiting. You could say she is 18 going on 40, if you know what I mean.
    I remember the day her mom and grandpa and I were riding with her soon after she got her driving permit. As we came into the subdivision the back way she was not quite up on two wheels, but she was for sure going way too fast. “Slow down!” yelled her mom.

    “I know what I am doing!” she shot back.

    “You are going way too fast,” her grandpa added.

    In a voice sounding more calm than my innards felt I said simply the truth, “Between your mom and your grandpa and me we have about 120 years of driving experience. You may not be mature enough to admit it but we are a better judge of your driving right now than you are.”

    Last night she stepped way over our boundary when she came in at 3:00 am. I do not know where she really was all that time or what she was doing but I do know that her “attitude” is a pattern of behavior she has played out with her mom many times before.

    We miss seeing what is obvious to others because that is the nature of shadow work.

    My brother-in-love was changed dramatically during this journey with cancer. He learned to laugh easily and he helped others do the same. Just last Sunday when he asked his wife for nail scissors she cautioned him to be careful with them. He has been very shaky. He took the scissors and then feigned a dangerously shaky hand before their eyes met and they both giggled.

    My granddaughter and her mom and I may not be ready to tease and laugh easily about our parts in all of this but we will all feel better as we can.

    William Arthur Ward said to make mistakes is human; to stumble is commonplace; and to be able to laugh at yourself is maturity.

    My granddaughter is only 18. My brother-in-law was past 70. We have time….

  • We Are Moved!

    I have had some long days and short nights the past couple of weeks, but we are moved! Here is my poem about all of that I wrote for the last Pine Island Poetry group:

    A Week’s Lifetime
    I. I’ve slept in my bed in this house the last Sunday of my life. The scent of long-past passion still lingers in my nose. The waterbed gave way to a California mattress. The headboard frame with the drawers underneath replaced by a rich Cherry poster bed that stands tall enough I can store the massage table underneath.
    II. This is the last Monday morning I will wake up in this house. Approximately 83,216 Monday mornings I’ve sat here looking east. Thousands of times I’ve watched the shadows grow long, had the sun in my eyes, and marveled at the rain pelting the window.
    III. More than two decades of pulling out of the driveway on Tuesday mornings heading to Still Waters. Sitting in the grapevine rocking chair in front of the sliding glass door looking at the majestic oak tree. Remembering that day I realized one of the women in the library was someone I had carried a deep grudge against, Forgiveness was unnecessary as the truth of how perfectly her role orchestrated divine will in my life set my heart free.
    IV. Working in Kalamazoo on Wednesdays, traveling enough to always keep my makeup bag packed, finding it easier to live out of my overnight bag than to realize some culturally-demanded essential was where I wasn’t. Years of driving into the sun on the way over Wednesday mornings and driving into the sun on the way back Thursday evenings.
    V. So many trips to Tennessee, watching grandkids grow up, remembering moments and milestones and many miles. We always left on Thursdays. Brad is married now, almost a year. Adam is a firefighter. My thoughts were also of Adam as I watched the first responders last Friday morning trying desperately to give my new neighbor one more day or week or month or year. Quite forgetful, she would introduce herself to me every time I stopped in at the new house. “I’m Katey,’ she would say, “I’ve lived here 33 years. It’s the best place I’ve ever lived. You’re going to love it here….” Adam arrived the day we moved in. Granddaughter, Courtney, will be here on Friday.
    VI. Friday night used to be date night. We would have the house all to ourselves. We’d make love in front of the fireplace, dozing off afterwards. I remember once having an ear print on the inside of my thigh. The nostalgia of leaving this house is not just about brick and mortar or years gone by. Moving makes us remember what really matters. We buried Spanky here. So many times I felt the weight of that cat on my chest long after his ashes were way out back.
    VII. Saturday morning Jehovah’s Witness visits, regular until the day John said, “Oh, yes, we are believers. My wife is an interfaith minister….” It’s funny how ritualistic our lives can become. Weeks and years and decades look so much like their predecessors, yet nothing truly remains the same. Next Monday morning I will wake up in my same bed, between my favorite bamboo sheets, having listened to 2002 Land of Forever. While my bed won’t be at 4230 Lincoln, part of my history will be.
    VIII. It’s a new beginning at 1153 West Glenlord Road, Lot 84…
    Debra Basham 7/24/17 (WC 544)

    This week I held baby Iris for the first time, stained and varnished a desktop, made my first risotto, and it absolutely amazes me that I can feel right at home somewhere other than where I felt right at home for the past 40 years. I trust that means this is the next right step….

  • A New Home

    This morning as I am so grateful for making time to get my fingers on the keyboard as my “to-do-list” grows longer and my time-table grows shorter. I notice how relevant that is to all those who are in their later years. I have lived 67 years, and in this body probably do not have 67 more. We have our home of 40 years scheduled to go onto the market today and have purchased an 1120 square foot home in a 55 and over park literally right around the corner. The simultaneity of the sacred and the mundane dancing across the moments we call time have my eyes leaking and my heart aching in its perfection….

    As we paint, clean, pack, (See Garage Floor!) we witness miracle upon miracle in the journey of John’s brother, Jim, who is journeying through metastatic cancer. From the ease and timing of finding of our new home to a vivid pray without ceasing demonstration the lines blur between now and then, here and there, alive and dead, mortal and immortal.

    We are living Harry Chapin’s Circle song. I hope you will take time to listen.

    As I have said before, we are living a charmed life. Last evening we said goodbye to an antique china cabinet that had sat in our kitchen for 25 years. It belongs to a friend, Doris. We kept it for her when she went through a divorce and had no place for it. That cabinet had belonged to her grandmother. There is now floor space in my kitchen, and I can feel my mother smiling to see her carnival glass gleaming in the light of our new home.

    Yesterday afternoon my yoga teacher and another friend met me at the new house for yoga. We offered gratitude for Ursel, the woman who had made that house her home for 31 years. We reminded ourselves we were on holy ground. After I packed each piece of glassware carefully in washcloths (no need to wash the dishes like you have to if you pack them in newspaper) John brought his guitar and played and sang as they were moved into the built-in china cabinet at the new house. Every action is intimate with thoughts and prayers regarding Jim and the unfolding of our shared destiny. The best way to share this holy thought is to let you read a journal entry by Krista Meyer, Jim’s daughter, posted about 7:00 pm Saturday, the 4th of July, 2017.

    Blessings

    Sometimes God just surprises you with an unexpected miracle.

    After nearly 48 hours of not being able to speak or communicate with anyone, Dad suddenly started talking this afternoon! Kurt and Heather and Sam and Ben were here, along with Uncle Jerry and Aunt Jeanne, Uncle John, and some of our kids. We had an amazing time of talking and laughing and visiting! I’ve attached one of the videos I took of Dad talking to our nephew, Craig, and Hannah and Jonny.

    I sent this message to my cousin:

    Everyone else left and I was sitting in the room with mom and dad. Mom went over to Dad’s bed and said, “I’m so proud of you! Are you proud of me too?” Dad replied, “Yeah!” Mom asked why he was proud of her and he said, “Because you’re the best wife in the world!”

    I can’t get over what a huge miracle this is. Over the past couple of days, my heart was hurting for him because I wondered if he had things he wanted to say to mom, especially, but hadn’t said them before he lost the chance. And mom said this morning when she went home for a bit, she had a meltdown and was telling God she missed hearing Dad’s voice and wished she could hear him talk again. She came back an hour later and he was talking!

    However long it lasts, whatever lies ahead, we are thanking God for this amazingly wonderful gift. Trying to remember to carve our blessings in marble and write our trials in sand. ❤️

    Once in a while, we witness what has been there all along. The blessings we carve in stone today are of a new home and moments of life spent with those we love. Rabbits hop in my backyard now. May rabbits hop in the yard at the new house, too.

    Here are the lyrics to Harry Chapin’s Circle:
    All my life’s a circle;
    Sunrise and sundown;
    Moon rolls through the nighttime;
    ‘Til the daybreak comes around.
    All my life’s a circle;
    But I can’t tell you why;
    Season’s spinning round again;
    The years keep rollin’ by.
    It seems like I’ve been here before;
    I can’t remember when;
    But I have this funny feeling;
    That we’ll all be together again.
    No straight lines make up my life;
    And all my roads have bends;
    There’s no clear-cut beginnings;
    And so far no dead-ends.
    I found you a thousand times;
    I guess you done the same;
    But then we lose each other;
    It’s like a children’s game;
    As I find you here again;
    A thought runs through my mind;
    Our love is like a circle;
    Let’s go ’round one more time.
    I found you a thousand times;
    I guess you done the same;
    But then we lose each other;
    It’s like a children’s game;
    Songwriters: Harry Chapin
    Circle lyrics © Harry Chapin Foundation

  • Garage Floor!

    Everything and everyone will teach you something.

    What did you learn yesterday?

    What will you learn today?

    Anything that angers you is teaching you FORGIVENESS and COMPASSION.

    Anything that causes you frustration or discouragement is teaching you PATIENCE and ENDURANCE.

    ~Based on the Law of Attraction

    As is so truly the case, as you go about the business/busyness of life, life is presenting you options of learning. That was certainly the case with our garage floor. I have hated our garage floor since we moved into this house in 1977. That is 40 years ago now in April. I have information saved from internet research I did on April 1, 2015: “Fix Your Garage Floor Like the Pros.” Nothing in that article came close to addressing the multiple issues with our floor, and I am very sorry I did not take a photo before DAY 1, which was installing backer core, filling cracks, and patching concrete. This first photo came 30 days later, after the concrete had been allowed to cure, and after powerwashing.

    Let me say here how much I appreciate the information people provided along the way. I had never heard of foam backer core to fill the cracks and it is so much more controllable than spray foam which has a tendency to start out like a lamb and end up like a lion. I even made a home visit to see a garage floor which had been done the way we ended up doing ours. It is encouraging to know a real human being has been successful at something you want to do. (Note, “Insert Smiley Face Here”)


    The first step (unless you count filling the cracks as number one and waiting a month before power washing number two) is to etch the floor. I am not talking about the classic Etch A Sketch where you could turn the knobs and have everything disappear, I am speaking of using citric acid and a ton of elbow-grease to remove any oil or dirt from the floor.


    The next step was to apply KILZ primer to imperfections. Our entire floor could have been considered an imperfection, but I used all I had and said, “This is good enough.” It makes sense to let yourself be content with the way things are. Best not to overthink.


    The next step was to paint the concrete block foundation. I spent a lot of time down on my knees. Each step has had its own challenges and learning but is part of the total transformation.

    Working in four-foot sections, we rolled on the epoxy coating and applied the paint flecks. Even the directions says not to try to do it alone. In addition to the two of us, I invited a host of angels.


    We have to wait a couple of days before putting stuff on the floor, but all through the process I just kept saying, “I love it!”

    How like life. Maybe my next book should be “I Learned Everything I Needed to Know in Life from my Garage Floor.”

  • Tuesday’s Tumble and a Happy Healing

    (If you are signed up to receive blog updates by email, remember to follow the link at the bottom so you can see the photos. These are ones you will not want to miss!)

    I was riding my bike to yoga at the Y on Tuesday when a driver failed to grant me the right-of-way. I ride a lot and am usually sufficiently aware, but this time I took a nasty spill.

    WARNING: graphic photos!

    I am so grateful to the two drivers who saw what happened and stopped, and to “Doctor” Kathy Zerler and fellow students for patching me up and helping me get through class. I was able to ride my bike home and see a client before I knew I needed emergency trauma treatment.

    I had major road rash on my right elbow and wrist, and although I had little visible damage there it was my left elbow that was in excruciating pain. Words cannot express how much I appreciate Leah Ke at Lakeshore Acupuncture for staying at the end of her day and treating me. One needle going in to my right knee to treat my left elbow resulted in a scream that she said could have brought down the roof. “That is the point,” she calmly said, as I sobbed. I was shaking inside from a full adrenaline rush. Leah sent me home with herbs and I fell into bed exhausted from the day. During the night it was difficult to turn over, to get down or up, and I hurt all over. I could not get myself up from the toilet seat, so I just straddled the bowl.

    Wednesday morning I struggled getting dressed with only one arm, could only use my right hand to brush my teeth and hair. I could not get my left hand to my face, and just carrying my arm was a challenge when I went for a walk. Through all of this, waves of compassion for those who have lost an arm or lost the use of an arm would wash over me. My heart felt raw with a sense of the blessing that I had no broken bones and the knowing my bruises and scrapes would heal.

    As I walked along with my left arm in the makeshift sling of my fanny pack, a past-life surged forth in full-blown cellular memory: My father was a senator in ancient Rome. We were in a balcony overlooking a courtyard where below a Christian was being persecuted. I raised my arm and yelled out in protest. My behavior brought shame to my father, so to save face he was unable to prevent my being punished. The punishment? Having my arm crushed!

    Last week I was reminded of a past life where my brother and I physically fought over the inheritance of our father’s kingdom: I cut off his arm and he cut off my head, we both died.

    Instantly, I felt the connection of these events to this current injury. “All time is in all time,” I could hear Angel Gail Konz saying. No past, no present, no future, just this eternal moment. You may have heard the saying everything that ever was is, and everything that will ever be also is. I knew the truth in my core. Karma was being released through this experience.

    Now, this is the most amazing part.

    I slept comfortably Wednesday night and Thursday morning I was able to use my left arm!

    The acupuncture and herbs administered by Leah were a key component to my rapid recovery but I also recognize the trauma that was released when I screamed out during the acupuncture was not just the current trauma. It was ancient….

    Three days after the bike accident, the bruises on my hands are totally dissipated and I have absolutely no residual injury in my left arm.

    The scrapes and the bruises on my knees and legs are still healing. I imagine we are all healing on all levels for all time. I was so blessed we can see that clearly this week.

  • Aphorisms: You Already Know

    “In the deep end, every stroke counts.”

    “Best not flirt with disaster, lest it decide to commit.”

    “Take two opposites, connect the dots, and you have a straight line.”

    These are a few of the pithy wisdoms included in Where Epics Fail, an upcoming book of aphorisms from Egyptian-American poet Yahia Lababidi, who also said, “Poets, thinkers and artists do not really teach, but remind us of what we already know.”

    This was certainly the case on Sunday, May 21, 2017, when I was honored as guest minister at St. John’s UCC church in New Buffalo, Michigan. The title of the sermon was, “The Light that is You.”

    I opened with a story from way back in the days of full-service gas stations, about a minister who waited in line to have his car filled with gas just before a long holiday weekend. The attendant, a member of the church, worked quickly, but there were many cars lined up ahead of the minister.

    Finally, the attendant motioned the minister toward a vacant pump. “Reverend,” said the young man, “sorry about the delay. It seems as if everyone waits until the last minute to get ready for a long trip.”

    The minister laughed and responded, “I know what you mean. It’s the same in my business.”

    In the perfect style of aphorisms, the sermon was summed up by this wonderful image on the bulletin cover, selected by Sandy Orange:

    I was blessed to share the work of some wonderful writers, including Zan Lombardo’s poem “EVERYTHING IS INDEED REACHING OUT TO EVERYTHING ELSE” that is done in calligraphy along the bottom of her amazing 30-foot watercolor (See: Three Sylables), and “Social Ethics,” a poignant opinion article by Kathy Zerler which had recently been published in our local newspaper.

    Confessing that I have already created my own eulogy so I can feel honored while I am still here living this life, and to save my loved ones from having to work to do it when I transition, from that I shared “When I’m Gone,” a poem by Mrs. Lyman Hancock, and “Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep,” written in 1932 by Mary Frye.

    Kathy, my sister-from-another-mister, was with me at church on Sunday, so she got to hear me read her piece. Following the service, Kathy blessed me with the most delicious lunch at Pierre Anne Crȇperie. An authentic French restaurant in a charming Victorian home has been there for 19 years waiting for me to discover it. I am still feeling the lingering effects…

    From the sermon:

    Our lives live on. Our lives are important. Children watch how we live. And children watch how we deal with death. We can live in ways that teach children death is not the absence of goodness, nor the absence of beauty. Perhaps life and death can each be seen as the place where true beauty can be known.

    Death is the only inevitability we all face.

    It seems only fitting to close this blog with another powerful aphorism that reminds us of what we already know—this one found on the St. John’s UCC web page:

    Never place a period where God has placed a comma…

    Can I get an AMEN to that?

  • Turtle Bax, Tupperware, and Tears

    It was Mother’s Day as I grabbed a sufficient amount of time to sit with the deeply personal, and profoundly honest Dramatic Dialogue poem of a writer/colleague/friend. This poem was her response to a recent hurtful encounter with her husband after the tip of his favorite fishing rod was broken off when she accidentally shut it in the car door in the pouring rain.

    As is so often the case, I did not yet know how relevant the words I wrote to my friend would become for me later in the day.

    My heart reaches out to both of you. For you, the value of taking responsibility for your own emotional safety, and for your husband his ability to recognize the larger value of a “person” over a “possession.”

    This has been a learning for me in this lifetime, too.

    For years I had a favorite ink pen at work. It was very unique. This pen didn’t have a round barrel like others, this one was shaped like a hexagon. The barrel was yellow, and the logo from Turtle Backs (garments) was worn nearly completely off.

    I had purchased many refill cartridges for this special pen.

    In a culture where people walked off with other people’s pens all the time, I liked this one especially because it was obviously “mine.”

    I still remember the day my special pen was lost.

    I was out to dinner on a Friday evening with my husband, his four adult brothers and their spouses and children, and my mother- and father-in-law. I know the exact location of the restaurant and the occasion for the gathering. And I remember it was my brother-in-law who borrowed my pen to sign the check.

    It wasn’t until Monday morning that I realized my pen had not been returned.

    My father- and mother-in-law are no longer in body. My brother-in-law is going through treatment for stage-four lung cancer.

    It was many years later before I would realize I held myself responsible for not thinking to get the pen before I left the restaurant.

    One of my spiritual teachers compassionately expresses the truth that all anger is essentially anger of the self.

    Some days I still miss that pen, and when that feeling comes, I let my own tender underbelly soften. Today I shed a few tears for all the other times and other circumstances where we fail to forgive ourselves sufficiently to have compassion for another.

    Just hours after this sincere reflection and sharing, the pattern showed itself in spades. My grandson popped some leftovers in the micro. I snapped, “NOT in that container,” as I grabbed it out, putting the contents into a proper bowl. I could see the emotional pain in his whole body. I apologized, but also had to make my point about other people in the family doing the same thing.

    A few stressful words with my son-in-law were the rapid-fire result of my critical comments.

    For that one moment I knew I had put possessions first. Fortunately, I also knew that is not my true value. I was instantly disappointed with my unwholesome behavior. The cost? Rather than enjoying time with people who are so precious to me, I had to give myself a time out.

    Have you noticed that as your awareness increases, old patterns often show up in your life again so you can appreciate your progress? What a powerful Mother’s Day this one has turned out to be!

    Tonight, I hold back the tears, but tears the overflowing love and gratitude for those in my life who forgive me when I am not at my best so I can forgive myself, too.

    I am profoundly thankful to have had a sweet text exchange with my son-in-law earlier this evening. We were both able to affirm our affection and appreciation for one another. I signed off with the gospel truth, “I love you guys. You mean so much more than any stinking old Tupperware!”