A Different Christmas

It just doesn't feel like Christmas yet...only three days away, most of the gifts are wrapped, the tree is up, the weather is unseasonably warm. Feeling like I should be more sad, heavy with deep remembrance. But I'm not. I'm content. Feet moving forward to satisfy the checklist, taking time to breathe and savor in between. I can only imagine it's a God-Thing....loads of prayer keep me from staying in bed all day long. Keeping my eyes heavenward keeps me from crying. Writing lets the truth bubble to the surface. Not saying I haven't had my moments, but 80% of the time I'm doing just fine. Thankful for friends that check in to see if I'm still breathing, I can almost predict those that will check in on Dec 25 and Jan 2. Two of the hardest days still to come. Moving forward with curious anticipation. Boarding an airplane to spend the holidays with dear friends...finally still and deep conversations expected, a few tears may spill. But in this moment, I'm content. Feeling like she was rescued and I'm truly overjoyed that she's no longer suffering...on so many levels. She's in the safest place of all. How can I be sad? I do miss hearing her soft voice always seeing the shiny side of things. I do miss her velvety soft hands in mine. I do miss snuggling up beside her in bed, each of us silently browsing the latest Women's Day magazines. I even miss her loud snores and that strange gurgling sound her belly made when she laid on her left side.

She raised me well...the best she could with the resources available. Now I'm making my own Christmas memories...mother-child memories. Recreating that silent snuggle with Maya as we browse thru our phones...her showing me the funniest videos and playing the most elusive tunes. Cole reaches over a squeezes my hand much more now... I love his adult sized hand in mine. Oftentimes, I'll slide up and check his pulse like Mom did when I was little...just to make sure all is well.

This Christmas indeed will be very different...but today, in this moment, different is very, very good.

 

 

Be Still

Entering a season of memories...Last Thanksgiving was the beginning of the spiral towards Jan 2. Stepping into the holiday realizing I purposely keep myself in motion so I won't have to think. Hosting 17 family members all with different social comfort and anxiety levels followed by a two week host and entertain stint with the in-laws...all good memories, all good distractions. Hands and mind so flurried that I didn't realize the loss until Dad crossed the threshold without her. Like U2 without Bono, the room seemed full and empty at the same time. I keep expecting her to appear...she was so unassuming...just quietly appearing...meek yet powerful.  No words to describe her. I sidled up beside Dad to reintroduce him to the crowd as he usually bee lines to my comfy corner chair and begins his nap. This time, he participated. My hand on his shoulder, I take a good long look at him...he has aged....maybe shrunk an inch or two...then I see it. Amidst my inner flurry, my soul still for a split second...enough to see the faintest quiver of his chin. He's struggling, too. He disappears upstairs, laying for a moment in Cole's bed, regrouping but saying it's his nerves from driving. He returns later to help with a puzzle and never heads for that comfy corner chair.

 

Days later, a 90^th birthday for Tim's grandmother...25 aunts, uncles, and cousins gathered to celebrate yet

her mind so loose from Alzheimers it seemed mildly overwhelming. It was nice to take a backseat to this festivity. More for us than for her....what stories that mind could once share. Now among faces she no longer recognizes, she appeases us thru dinner, opening of presents, and a few snapshots but is adamant about being ready to leave. Father-in-law leads his exhausted mother to the car as we offer our goodbyes. While others hug and offer final chats, I'm feeling led to follow Wayne as he places his mother onto the seat. She's cumbersome, sliding too far on the seat for the seatbelt to reach, he envelopes her to reach the belt, but her head nestles gently onto his shoulder. And then it happens... I am blessed with the most touching moment...he stops and lets her rest on him, cooing gentle words in her ear. The two of them are motionless for what seems a sweet eternity. Feeling like the luckiest girl in the lot, my eyes swelling with tears, the seatbelt snaps and the moment ends.

Realizing that I'm keeping myself busier than required to avoid deep thoughts...However, when I'm most still, I'm able to witness magical moments. Taking this first year of memories day by precious day...not wishing it away, being intentional with my time, my words, my memories. Having to constantly remind myself that when the flurry rises, I will be still.

A-ha Moments

My last post, since deleted, stirred family feathers, so I sat remorseful, tail between my legs, feeling censored. But words weigh heavy, desperately wanting to be released. Thoughts churning unsettled until they're on paper. 

 

For now, I'll stick with benign topics...some A-ha moments from these past few weeks.

A-ha #1:  When tired, rushed, not grounded in prayer, my words often skim surfaces,  at times unintentionally wounding. Working on becoming and remaining intentional with my words. Three occasions this week presented awareness that small deposits have uplifted, enlightened. What kind of an effect could be made if I truly turned on the jets? Depositing words that are based on good listening and soul based inquiries? How humbling that I could make an impact on another life.  Aiming to use my powers for good...

A-ha #2:  Some people come into your life for a season....lessons received or given, then unexpectedly, while making yourself a cup of tea one morning you realize you haven't talked in months. That awkward silence with far too many life gaps to fill. Then you wonder if the lesson is complete or was the lesson unable to be taught?

A-ha #3:  Some that have nearly nothing will gladly give everything they have to help others. An entire post on that topic is brewing....things I've noticed during volunteer time at the Community Closet. Desperate hearts, willing volunteers, grateful souls. Life changing stuff.

A-ha #4:  Feeling like a storm is coming...not ready for it to be one full year. I'd prefer to stay closest to the last moments I had with her.  Not wanting it to fade. Perhaps that's why I still write. Unable to attend her hometown event, Apple Scrapple fest in Bridgeville, De because that's when the decline began. Then Thanksgiving, then Christmas, and finally New Years. Holidays that carry major weight for me now. Staying busy to create fresh memories but still not ready to forget.

 

 

Mentally and physically scattered, but growing, changing in every moment.  Becoming a better version of myself...one that represents a good human to my children, that speaks loving words to my husband, and carries a full cup to more effectively help others.  Definitely a work and delicate balance in progress. 

Forgiveness - Part Deux

Writing about Forgiveness and actually doing are two different beasts. Seems I've been quite content to let bitterness consume me from within. Surrounded by suggestion... a sermon about offering forgiveness before too late. Then, darling husband asks almost daily if I've called my Dad. I read a fabulous book on what it's like to live in another person's shoes which makes me consider how little I know about his life, his fears. Then, this morning's devotional reads 'instead, you ought to forgive and comfort him, so that he will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow' (2 Corinthians 2: 7). Oftentimes slow on the uptake, but lately it's felt like a battering ram!

Couldn't I just write a letter? Written words flow more smoothly. Can't it wait til a personal visit? No, Lisa...call today. Call right now. That heavy soul-knocking urge to call weakens my resolve and I reach for the phone. Not in my favorites list, I have to search for his name. What will I say? I know I can't get thru much without breaking down. Ring Ring...maybe he's still asleep...he's known to sleep til noon. Instead, I get a sleepy hello. Uggg. Ok, I'm being obedient...Good morning.

Those first awkward steps of conversation aren't pretty....clumsily trudging thru...I know the meaty parts are coming... bursting to spill. That deafening silence and then I hear myself say the words I've withheld for years.

Can you forgive me?  I've been angry at you for how things went down with Mom.

Can you forgive me?  I was angry because I would have done things so differently. I was completely unaware of your perspective....what it was like living in your shoes.

I don't know how he'll process my call...choppy with tears and gulps for air. Not sure if he feels confusion or clarity. Feeling the same way, myself. There's so much more to purge. Baby steps.

 

 

Clumsy Words

These weeks have been a blur...busy mind and body...delivering meals to sick and traveling friends, celebrating a dear friend's book release, a monumental concert for daughter and an indulgent evening with a friend, meetings, volunteer hours, chauffeuring, cooking, cleaning. Nothing more or less ordinary than any other Mom. But this week, feeling that guilty sadness that summer is winding down, and many of my lofty summer plans did not materialize. Looking for precious windows of time in these final 8 days to squeeze in memories.

Slowing the mind as I set the list aside and listened to daughter's fears and dreams for her upcoming

school year. Enjoying a marathon of Harry Potter with her before she's off and running again. Helping me understand the importance of horcrux items and Patronus symbols. Deep and heady thoughts from a Dumbledore quote, “Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it.” Words I strive to represent...intentionally placed words of concern, praise, correction. Often, I miss the mark. Children, husband, perhaps friends, disappointed and confused. Seems to be an ever present exercise as I savored a far-away friend this weekend as she voiced her excitement over a new move and the heart saddness over the sudden loss of a dear pet. Learning to listen and not stumble over clumsy words and canned thoughts. Home again, somehow forgetting the lesson and fruitless words tumble out. Saying one thing, but another meaning heard. Are surrounding ears that fragile or are my words that graceless? Written, they come silky...but something between the brain, ears, and tongue tangles intention.

Since not speaking is an ineffective answer, my only answer is prayer. Praying to soften my words, letting them lay softly on loved one's ears. Praying to cushion my own ears to hear love always. Praying my words have that power to remedy and not inflict injury.

 

Answered Prayers

This week, my nose has been buried in a book titled 'A Better Way to Pray' I snagged recently in efforts to better understand prayer, it's power, and how I can begin to fathom this mysterious and supernatural gift that we're all equipped with...feeling like I have a lightsaber but I use it like a can opener.

As the chapters progressed, however, I was feeling convicted with regard to Mom's illness...if I had just prayed more precisely, if I had commanded the Cancer to leave, if I had more faith. But, like a good father, he answered my sad heart in such a tender way...he offered me a flashback:

When Mom became very ill well after a 15 year battle, well after all of her immediate family had already passed, well after years of injections, biopsies, toxins, and a bevy of symptoms. I spoke to God for healing and clearly heard, “hasn't she suffered enough?”. This world isn't Heaven but she surely made the best of what she was given. I shifted my prayers quickly to remove pain...please Lord, don't let her suffer. Please Lord, let her go without fear. Please Lord, don't let her feel pain.  In that moment, I realized my prayers were clearly and lovingly answered. She left quietly, without fear, and without pain. I'm thankful for that. It wasn't that He couldn't rid her of her Cancer, it wasn't that I didn't pray correctly or didn't have enough faith. It wasn't that my Mom didn't have enough faith....God answered that she was ready to go home and gently ushered her upward. He answered both of our prayers at once.

This tingling return of old-Lisa has brought guilt, too...guilt that I am forgetting Mom, worry that I'm forgetting to live like her and letting her death mean nothing. How silly I am... how quickly I return to sorrow and ashes when I should be remembering how faithful He was over her....over me. I am one lucky girl to have had the honor of speaking to her of her beautiful abode in Heaven...that she'd soon see him face to face....that she'll finally be rewarded for all the unappreciated things she did. How silly I am. The returning to Me doesn't have to mean forgetting Mom and all the lessons I learned thru her passing. Those lessons are bone deep...thankful for the gentle reminder this week of how faithful He was and continues to be. I'll keep praying and trying to learn how to better use my lightsaber.

Flurry Days

This week was quite the flurry...seven straight days of baseball, Florida in-laws under roof, while still hosting a sleepy post-vacation buzz. It was a feet-hitting-floor-instant-ON kinda week. Entertaining family guests, cleaning house while they visited others, soaking and scrubbing clay stained baseball pants for another evening game, prepping dinner for early eating, then packing coolers for hot spectators and a hard working baseball player. Thankful for a rejuvenating stay at the beach to fill the reserves, never feeling overwhelmed.

School's out for summer and my precious silent writing space has been invaded. My therapy time... soul words that clear the shadows. Squeezing in car time during practice and scattered notes on my phone. As busy as this week was, I felt a shift...old Lisa returning like the tingling of a sleepy limb reawakening. Parts though, still wanting to hold fast my new awareness so in the busy days I don't forget those important lessons, my bullet points. Wanting the change to stick to my bones.

A call to reality, however, was a text from daughter....'when you get home, I'd like to talk'. The world continued to spin, but suddenly laser focus was on her. Never letting the flurry supersede relationship, once home, a bee-line to her room closing the door behind. The cleaning and entertaining would have to wait. Snuggled up beside her and quieted brain to truly hear her words and the meaning behind them. Thankful that she seeks me out and trusts my opinion. A lifetime of listening to all the small stuff so I won't miss the big stuff. Advice on a boy that broke her heart... should she extend a second chance. Personally being The Queen Recipient of Second Chances, with protective hesitation, I agreed. Taking inventory of all the chances I've received, the fourth and fifth chances I've regretfully given, passing along wisdom for both sides. Offer Grace, but don't abandon common sense. Take it slow and don't dangle guilt.

Content, we parted and the flurry continued but home base is secure, so all is well.

 

No Coincidences

Anxious about taking a long weekend with the ladies... arriving in-laws and a missed baseball tournament, but the heaviest concern was whether I'd be a wet rag. Still not on my A-game, wondering if I've been enlisted to an entirely different game...would I contribute to the fun, would I have weepy moments, am I still enjoyable to be around? Two tenured friends and two newbies...one of which is currently midway thru her journey with Cancer. Would conversation stir memories still too fresh?

No coincidence that I was surrounded by exactly the kind of women I needed to refresh my soul. I should have known better than to be anxious for anything at all. Settling in, sweet aggreeance all around...not wanting to upset the other. Our conversation deep, supportive, and broad. No one took center stage, no tantrums. Sharing heart stories by the pool, then at home, then at the beach...a simple change of scenery then more chats.

The high point was a pool side exchange that became an incredible therapy session. Five women with heartbreaking stories made me realize:

1. There are some amazingly strong women in the world...we coined them 'beautiful mules'. They carry the load when others cannot.
2. We all have a story....something that defines us and how we see the world forever after.
3. The sharing of stories offered sustenance...the heady realization that we are not alone.
4. The difference between being a victim and a victor is not letting the story become an excuse.

Rejuvenated and ready to embrace the in-laws, our return trip home offered another sweet reminder... no coincidence my randomly selected seat partner was a newly retired 17-year breast cancer survivor.
 

Sucker Punch

It's the little things...the seemingly insignificant events that sucker punch while skipping oblivious thru the day. On a long overdue and lengthy drive to Westminster to check my questionable hearing, turning off the radio so I can listen to my own head thoughts completely unexpected Mom thoughts entered. My hearing has been a years-long issue that I've belittled and tried to self medicate, but it's pretty obvious that hearing is still lacking. Compensating with lip reading, but if not facing you, details are missed. Mom was worried, I was preoccupied. Rounding the corner into Westminster, I hear myself say how glad Mom would be that I'm finally following thru. Then realization that I can't call her to relieve her fears. Heaviness settles on the heart and stomach when I remember I no longer have a Mom. That I'm the sad member of the single parent club.

Later in the week, while shaking the guest bed comforter over the deck to scare off any stray puppy hairs, the sun caught the floating dust, fibers, particles and I remembered Mom was last to lay under that comforter. Little pieces of her floating away. It's silly, but it made me cry. Usually saved for the safety of my inner sanctum, I felt so exposed with the air hitting my wet lids. Would the neighbor think I'm loosing it? Will she think I'm weak? Will it provide yet another story for the gossip chain? Deep breath, drying eyes, task continued...stopping when needed and not caring who saw. This grief thing is pretty universal and if it hasn't hit your world yet, I'm thankful, but just wait. It'll tip your cart, too.

Tomorrow, I head south with friends to soak in the Myrtle Beach sunshine...fearful that I'll receive another unexpected sucker punch and deflate or that I'll be an uber buzz-kill. Packing my running shoes because they seem to help shake off the funk. Preparing for guests, the lack of recent sunshine, and one week into Claratin for the hearing issues has made me a zombie. I'm ready for some vitamin D, hearty belly laughs, and perhaps a few adult beverages.

 

  

Holes in the Wall

In efforts to prepare for a visit from my father-in-law and his wife, I panicked and had a serious 'If You Give a Mouse a Cookie' moment. I adore visits from my father-in-law. But I do have to step up my Homemaker game when he's in town. Bathroom cabinets are organized, base boards dusted, meals organized and prepared. All I wanted to do was hide the wi-fi cords. But, hiding the cords meant moving the surge protector. Moving the surge protector prompted a shelf shuffle. The shelf shuffle required the removal of a curtain tie-back. The removal of the curtain tie-back resulted in four glaring holes in the wall. One week til arrival and now the room requires a complete room repaint all for a small collection of cables.

He loves us regardless of the condition of our home. Made me ponder past relationships that I would over nurture and images I sought to portray to ensure my seemingly fragile social status. Ultimately, I learned, I could be the juiciest peach in the orchard and someone will still not like peaches. I could clean til my fingers bled and someone will still spot something I missed. I could carry the sweetest smile and speak the kindest words, and someone will still find fault. I'll have a chat with father-in-law and laugh about how silly I was, reminding him that every waking moment is spent spoiling my children at baseball games and shuffling them to friend visits. One day, when the house is quiet and the kids are gone, I'll have a pristine house...until then, my windows will be dirty, the floors have puppy prints, and you may or may not find a cereal bowl hidden in my son's bedroom. Until then, I'm talking myself off the cleaning ledge and looking forward to a visit with four extra holes in the wall.

Challenge - Intentional Schedules

We're in full blown baseball mode...practice every week day but Wednesday and tournaments on the weekends.  This busy schedule has forced me to become very intentional with my extra time...weighing out every appointment, chore, task, visit.  Seems the more time I have, the more time I waste.  This trimmed schedule allows me to only add the most crucial tasks. 

Not too long ago, I volunteered for everything...saying yes to all.  Standing in as Mentor Mom for our local M.O.P.S. crew, organized merchants for the York Bloom Art Market,  filled my brain and soul
at Bible study, joined a Knitting and Crocheting club, and sat in on the newborn meetings of our local donation center.  Unsure why at the time, I began to retreat and empty my plate of activities feeling over-occupied.  Then Mom got really sick. Suddenly, the need to clear decks made sense.  Ready to add things back to my plate, I'm finding myself extremely selective.  Things that once interested me,  no longer carry the same luster.  So, I pause...I ponder...I pray.  Adding in only the best, most important things.  Time is super precious and I don't want to waste a single drop. 

This selective process has made me reexamine what exactly makes me happy...not simply laugh, but truly make me happy.  It's a tough question I'm still dissecting. 

So, this week I enforced a 2-day limit to volunteering, cheered like mad at five baseball games, reconnected with an old friend, and carved out time with a new friend.   Two more unused furniture pieces departed, while I added extra workouts to accommodate holiday gnoshing and upcoming beach visits.  I was able to stay dry eyed when I heard Mom's funeral song, but got misty when Melissa Rivers recounted her last moments with Joan, climbing into the bed with her.  I count this week in the good column.

Challenge - Mother's Day

This first week of May, counting down to Mother's Day, was filled with nervous expectation... similar to facing a massive cavity fill.  Knowing it would pinch, sear, ache but there was nothing you could do to stop it.  A year of first's then perhaps the ache would cease.  Saturday found me cheering on the sidelines in a day full of baseball games.  Not quite 100%... a little off.  Sitting in the glaring sun, no nearby trees, I spotted several Maple tree spinners spiral from the sky...gifts from Mom.  My family home has a massive Maple that drops ungodly amounts of seedlings, spinners, helicopters.  So
overwhelming and annoying.  Leaving so much to sweep that once, my Mom even attempted to vacuum them up.  It didn't fare so well for the vacuum.  I knew right away my little heaven sent spinners were a little inside joke. 

Mothers day came with an all day heaviness.  Head not even off pillow and tears falling.  Dear friends sent early texts checking on me, sending love.  Twenty-four hours of that forgetful belly-ache...as if I'd forgotten to call her then the sad realization that I no longer had that task. 

On a high note, Tim gave me the best distraction ever...tickets to see Prince that Mother's Day in Baltimore.  For the first time in months, I was excited, thrilled, cheering, smiling, I may or may not have even shed a few excited-fan-style tears of joy.  It was great evening.  I am truly blessed with a thoughtful hubby!

Four months have passed and I worry I'm sounding like a broken record...how much time is acceptable to grieve before friends and family have had enough?  When does the happy-guilt end?  This writing, it has become my therapy.  If I am helping anyone in this process it's myself...anyone else is simply a welcome ride-along. 

Challenge - Long Road Home

This week presented a long hometown trek to visit family the first time since her funeral. I planned a visit with my Great Aunt Bootsie before too much time slipped by. Realizing I had procrastinated this trip. The road so familiar now reminded me of hospital trips. No longer feeling that anxious anticipation to get home...no more umbilical pull...as if I was headed somewhere foreign. Found myself anxious, defensive, offensive...how will Dad appear? Has he been keeping up with bills and his health? Will the house be a wreck? Still angry with grandma for not attending funeral. Bit the bullet and made most difficult stop first...Dad, brother and grandma all present. Dad seemed alert, happy, organized. Brother proudly busy. Grandma weaker still and paper thin. Talks of forgiveness truly hitting the pavement in true form. Smile and spread joy, love. Quick visit then off to Pepper Road...busy niece is asleep fresh from the night shift. Too excited to wait, I awaken her for hugs. She is filling Mom's shoes too well...helping keep Dad fed and house cleaned. Funny, I no longer have the compulsive desire to help clean.

Afternoon spent with Bootsie enjoying lunch but we both notice an obvious absence. Long quiet

pauses fill our chats. We both miss her so. We visit her gravesite together...brother, sister, and grandbabes visit often to place flowers and release balloons but I don't find her there. Just dirt and faded plastic flowers. Laying out favorite lilacs while Bootsie pulls weeds...her own compulsive desire then we're off. Excited to see what flowers are emerging at Bootsie's beautiful garden...Mom always enjoyed lingering there , too. She shares her blooms with me to grow at home. She's excited to have the company and I sense she doesn't want me to leave...”just one more thing”. Sadly, we part after numerous I love you's and I begin the long return trek. The trip not nearly as bad as anticipated...life has continued.

Challenge - Week Nine

Over two months into my challenge and honestly, it would be so much easier to revert to old-Lisa. Not that old-Lisa was all that bad compared to some, but trying to be intentional with every blessed thing is definitely requires more energy, more thoughtfulness. Most days, it would be much easier to put the kids on the bus and stay in my jammies all day long. But at days end, I feel guilty, uber unproductive, and have no exciting stories to report to the family. Every good thing seems to include struggle...most days, I don't want to exercise and do my devotions, but historically, I know I'm a wreck without both. So, I hunker down and finish the tasks. Feeling immediately better, I attack the day on a positive vibe. I'm motivated to make that lunch date with a new friend. I attack my chores with new found vigor. I call my sweet Aunt Bootsie and set a date for a long overdue visit before months have passed and busy-ness occupies my calendar.

Last weekend was testosterone filled...Celebrating sons birthday by playing paintball followed by a Sunday of baseball. I hadn't played paintball since a random social event in college...but this Mother tore it up! It was crazy thrilling...I jumped, dived, hid, crawled, provided cover fire, and pelted six 13 year olds. Exilarating. As I strolled between courses in my many paint stained layers ( to prevent painful stings), I noticed many cute, paint-free moms sitting sidelines. They gave me the once over as I stood a little taller knowing I had participated...I got dirty for my little man...I didn't even consider there was an option to do otherwise.

One day, too soon, I may not have baseball games to watch and cheer or a fabulous excuse to play paintball.  He won't want to play with me anymore. Til then, I'll continue to make memories for the both of us.

Praise

My previous pain gauge was childbirth. “Will this tattoo hurt? I've had two children, nothing can hurt as much as that”. My new bar has become watching a parent die...nothing can hurt as much as that. It'll be four months soon, and I can still picture her taking those final breaths...arching her head back against the top right portion of the pillow. Glad I am the only one to carry that image. Glad that it was only me...no wailing, no gnashing of teeth on her part, mine, or any other family member. But looking back, the room itself always carried a peaceful atmosphere. Those closest to me noticed I omitted obvious drama from my daily reports. It surely circled, but never landed in the room...hallway conversations, stressful briefs, worry, sadness, confusion. Her thankful mindset and the uplifting praise music set the precedent. Nothing else mattered.

Tapping into that same mindset on a daily basis is no easy task. The path of least resistance is to feel nothing...so easy to turn it all off and withdraw from every single thing. But what kind of legacy would I be manifesting? This being positive thing takes work. So, I take lead from my Mom...I play praise music. I've read that scripture is stronger than a double edged sword...able to cut thru bone and marrow. Wouldn't musical verse have the same affect? It speaks life and changes perspective...I've seen it happen with my children. Sour moods become helpful, lighter.

Regardless of my situation, regardless of my surroundings, regardless of my fickle energy level and mood, I have unlimited access to joy...anywhere, anytime. Instead of changing the situation, I change. I simply need to press play and offer up my praise...Thank you for my husband, thank you for my children, thank you for our health, thank you for our work, thank you for our church, thank you for our friends, thank you for the food we eat, thank you for our warm beds, thank you even for my dog. To that giant pile of laundry which will tie me to the washer all day long, thank you for the blessed abundance of clothing options. To the rain that so often falls in April, thank you for my beautiful green grass and emerging flowers. To the neighbor that never secures his recycling, thank you that we have healthy legs and hands to retrieve the clutter. Seemingly negative situations will never change...but my attitude towards them certainly can.

Challenge - Time for Self & Others

Learning that there are close friends dealing with issues bigger than mine, shaking off the blues, I pulled up my britches, helped a friend and began volunteering at my church donation center. It felt good...like soul-satisfying kinda good. One task less for my friend to complete and an opportunity to help others in more dire straits than my own. Like everything else, though, there is balance to be found. Never wanting to be mindlessly busy. Never wanting to become the self-less martyr. Finding if I start with stillness, asking if the task is mine, I can filter out the tasks that are best left for others. Balancing helping others with making time for myself was delicate. So much of what I do, what any mother does, is for others...family, friends, church, community. I craved and sought out something solely for me this week and found it in Yoga. Setting up my mat, block, blankets, quieting my mind while waiting patiently for the teacher to instruct me. Praying hands to heart, I set my intention...instant tears. What IS my intention? Not just for that hour of Yoga, but for Life in general. Am I flitting around, untethered, from one event or crisis to another? Tabling that deep thought for another time and moving from one pose to another. Balance and I are not best friends, so all I could do was concentrate on holding still. No awareness of others in the room, not concerned that they might scoff my angles or judge my poses. The post Yoga Shavasna is my favorite part...an hour of intention towards every muscle ends with complete stillness. Pushing aside busy mind chatter of tasks, concerns, conversations, only hearing my breath. All tension melts away. Left feeling such peace and ready to filter out the unimportant from my list. Another first for me this season was hitting the ground running, literally. Tim and I went for a hearty run thru the neighborhood...my first run in over a year. It wasn't pretty. The final stretch includes a Mt. Everest climb up the hill parallel to our home. My mailbox is the finish line and I ceremoniously threw my hands up in celebration/relief while desperately gasping for air. Not a glamorous look, but it was complete and it was all for me. Deciding that my schedule needs to allow equal time for me and for others. Time to refill the tank so I can properly love.

Challenge - Week 7 & 8

Week Seven into my challenge and I call a big, fat, giant redo! Backing up a little, there was certainly joy to be found...a full day getting to know a new friend and liking what I found. Pleased with myself that I stepped out of my comfort zone and made my own play date. The house is also certainly becoming more joy-filled...Tim is pleased that his basement is coming together and retaining it's testosterone. Challenge items checked.

The call for redo circled around my children this week. I found myself feeling like the red-headed step child (no offense to red-headed step children). Seemingly good things went unappreciated and like a sleepy toddler, I declared a end to all nice things...forever. As if. In hind sight, I realize doing nice things doesn't always generate the excitement you expect. Realistically, I have two elevated and amazing children and I should realize that bad days, or several bad days are par for the teenage course.

A secondary redo is called and retracted for the process of fluffing our nest. Eleven years of primer in our bedroom was finally refreshed with a calming coat of grey paint. The process required dresser drawers being removed, drop cloths laid, switch plates removed, heavy furniture moved from it's very fixed spot...One task requiring two or three additional steps...very 'If You Give A Mouse A Cookie' type of a process. Knee deep in Spring Cleaning needy furniture while Tim diligently painted. Waiting for the swan to emerge from the ugly and very dusty duckling. Walls finished and furniture replaced, I'm happy with our new space. Piles gone, dust removed, it's a sweet, love-filled place. Framing Tim's artwork to present a meaningful view versus a quickly bought massed-produced print. Another often passed room now features yellow curtains that spill butter colored light over a pair of rustic piggies that make me chuckle. I suppose with any new growth, some pains must occur. Accepting the pain and waiting patiently for the grand reveal.

 

Week Eight brought me far too much free time. Feeling like a spoiled-first-world-stay-at-home mom, but with too much free time comes waste. Finding days that are structured are more productive. By mid-week, I realized I needed a schedule. Something I can rely on to fill my days. Work out, devotions, time-structured cleaning (or else I'd clean all day or not at all), leaving time for errands, writing, volunteering, or an impromptu lunch.

Too much time also left excess space for thinking and dwelling. Easter was tough...her loss heavy in the meaningful songs during church service, while preparing a meal for the family, and resisting the urge to call her. Instead of dwelling, I sought out a space to volunteer. Hoping that helping others will redirect my pains. My problems aren't nearly as all-consuming and destructive as others. Choosing to spread the love instead of keeping it hidden under a depressed and broken basket.

Challenge - Week Six

The highlight of my week was a long lunch spent with my Aunt Gail.  A most excellent story teller, an expert at the art of conversation, and close as sisters to my Mom, she had plenty of belly-laughing stories for me and I know there'll be more next time.  I realize quickly that it was Mom that updated me on Gail and her family...sad realization of loss like a paper cut to the heart.  She warms my soul.  I  hope she knows how much joy thru laughter and concern she gifts to me.  Many blessings to her, my sweet Aunt. 

Tuesday allowed me to participate in my current guilty pleasure of the most mild variety... standing
in as smoothie-maker / tea-brewer at my favorite local tea shop.  Always amazed at the variety of customers it drawls, I enjoy making conversations and spreading more joy.  I whip up their order, they smile, say thank you and are off to pursue the rest of their day hopefully a bit happier.  This week, however, I encountered a customer of a different sort... uber needy, self-aggrandizing, with some un-nameable underlying dark force.  Life certainly would be pretty grand if you only dealt with unicorns and rainbows every day, but I suppose one dark apple in the bunch is manageable.  I refused to allow her energy to permeate my happy space and moved on.  Not allowing drama to become my own.  Deep tea shop lessons...

Tea shop hours also provided time with the local homeless lady, Ms. A.  Can't even fathom the darkness she encounters on a daily basis.  Scattered and random joy with a solid base of self-preservation.  She shuffles in, her bag dripping some milky substance and desperately needing a bath.  Abandoning all judgment and side-barring all chores, I elbow up to the counter and greet her with a tentative smile...testing the waters and not wanting to bombard her with my syrupy happiness.  She's tired, in pain from an arthritic knee and needs something to cut the chill.  Warm tea seems to help.  I listen and nod...her stories rich, decorated with her own vocabulary.  I wonder if they hold truth or if they are her own imaginings, her own reality.  I wonder how she'd receive a care package of street goodies...she seems too proud to accept help.  I wonder what brought her to the York streets...aren't we all just a few decisions away from the same fate?  She reports that she always feels content when she visits...not happy or loved because that would be too "kinky"...a place to warm her bones, use a safe bathroom and receive a smile. 

And THEN....I got to baby-sit the most adorable little babe all day Wednesday!  She sat on my lap, so content, so trusting, completely reliant on me for the afternoon.  Of course, the mental queue started to scroll....could I switch loads of laundry, vacuum, prepare dinner, call my Dad...but instead, I savor her.   She drifts off...eyes so heavy, arms completely limp and the sound of rain hitting glass enters awareness.  Then I watch a robin and a cardinal search the frozen ground for food...normally too busy to witness these simple yet sweet things, I savor them.  She stirs as if dreaming..what does someone so new to this world possibly dream about?  We're both most content when my cheek rests on her forehead.  That sweet smell of baby...I savored it. 

Forgiveness

My deepest thoughts gather in the early morn...the house is quiet, the dog content, as I brush my teeth and hair.  Pondering how a fairly joy-filled day can be completely undone by the presence of select humans that grate my ever-loving soul. Small in number, but one powerful effect. Trying my best to avoid them, yet adrenaline and hairs rise when paths cross. Past pain simply outweighs being polite. My happy cart left completely tipped. Hoping I'm not alone here.  Justifying avoidance by not wanting to 'cast my pearls before swine'... however, we're also to 'forgive 70 times 7'. So which is it? Today, I realized that one does not negate the other. No need to blindly offer the best of me to the few that would manipulate and mangle while awaiting an apology never delivered.  Forgiving them for hurtful words and actions, instead. Forgiving doesn't mean I have to maintain toxic relationships...it just means not letting it consume me.  Forgiveness means I'm letting someone higher than me judge actions.  Forgiving also doesn't mean approving of actions.  Pain won't be forgotten, but won't define me. Working on releasing that gut-punch reaction at sight, choosing instead to send positive vibes their way. My own kind of happy sabotage. So liberating and somewhat sneaky.

This idea of forgiveness seems easier said than done, the most difficult part will be executing daily. Not a one and done deal, thinking this will require daily action.  Repetitive mind over matter. Another exercise in renewing the mind...replacing negative with positive, sending love versus indifference. Retraining the brain. Each day is presenting new challenges, new insight. Certainly way off from perfect, yet ever evolving. Attempting to forgive so I can fully love. 

 

Challenge - Week Five

Finding balance between frantic busy-ness and depressed lethargy.  Last week, I was at both spectrums...sometimes both in one day. This week, I sought a happy medium.  Shifting gears to slow or speed as needed.  It would be so much easier to just stay in bed, curl up with the pup, close eyes and listen to the wind.  Motivation is low most days, but realizing things simply must get done, I make myself do it anyway. Didn't feel like making dinner, do it anyway. Didn't feel like making conversation with friends, do it anyway.  Didn't feel like cleaning or doing bills, do it anyway.  At some point, my arms were moving, words were spilling out, mind was active and I was enjoying myself. I allowed myself one tear-filled, bummer of a day and then pulled on my big-girl panties.   Until I discover my new 'normal', I will do it anyway. 

This week, I'm making happy spaces at home.  Decluttering and Spring cleaning, I find myself drifting thru rooms sorting, pulling, pitching.  Sorting Mom's stuff proved overwhelming...one that inspires selective intention with those items I surround myself with. Items without a purpose or that no longer bring joy were donated or sold.  Tim says I'm organizing as if I was dying.  Still working on that 'happy medium'. 

Quite content to stay in my jammies all day, I rallied and enjoyed dinner with friends.  It proved a grand surprise....uplifting chatter, speaking words of praise, sweet confirmations all around.  No gossip, no slander, not one negative word.  Contagious...each woman wanted to add something to sweeten the pot.  Returned home filled to the brim and craving more. 

Still working on that balance, seeking that happy medium.  When to speak, when to be quiet.  When to be still, and when to move.  Normal, everyday decisions now taking on a more elevated purpose. A constant renewing of the mind to listen for that still, small voice so that everything is done with love. Love for my family, my friends, my self. 

Challenge - Week Four - The Wall

Productive, manic, empty best describe my week. Most days I felt tired down to my soul. Constantly yawning, yet early to bed, even Tim has noticed I'm off. Those days with extra energy, I frantically attacked every task...riding the wave before it would crash. Trying to be as productive as possible...vigorously cleaning, making long lists, purging clutter, trying to find some semblance of order.

Then I hit the wall.

Wednesday, there was no joy to be found. Exhausted, no desire to smile, no bliss found even in the things that typically bring me happiness. Just blah. Wondering if these long months of sadness for Mom has made me forget what it feels like to be consistently happy? Did I not leave any space for mourning? Keeping myself busy, busy, busy so I won't have to feel? Busily redecorating my surroundings in hopes it will also stir my soul? Tim practically had to pry the vacuum out of my hand and suggest I take a long, hot bath. Friends suspicious when I say I'm doing just fine. I actually said I don't think about her.

What I can't fix, I clean. When I can't control, I cook. My to-do list lengthens by the second and my mental queue spins wildly. Afraid to start crying for fear I won't stop.

Today, I will leave time to be still. Just listen. Breathe. Cry if I must, showing myself some grace. This, too, shall pass. But when it passes, what will remain?

 

 

Challenge - Week Three

This week began on a massive high...a gluttonous weekend with Tim's college buds. An 18 year tradition, we travel 5 hours to snowy Cazenovia, NY and eat, drink, laugh, sleep and repeat. Laughter is truly healing for the soul. Sweet conversations, good-natured teasing...it filled my cup. Over-whelming at times, though, the sounds, cross-table banter..once I swore I saw Mom across the restaurant with her salt and pepper hair and silly bird and bunny embossed mock turtleneck sweatshirt. It was another customer, but the resemblance took the air right from my lungs.

The remaining weekdays were detox and slightly manic. Highly productive, but working myself to
exhaustion.  Efforts to organize created a domino effect leaving more and more to accomplish. A juicer purchase required an entire kitchen cabinet shuffle for space. (More on the juicer later). Basement is inching closer to Tim's perfect man-cave, however. Each weekend is another step towards a finished project. Baby steps.

 

As for my other challenges, I enforced screen-free hours and became the instant wicked witch, but the transformation was priceless...I witnessed the rare moments of watching sister teach brother how to play a ….wait for it....card game! How entirely old-school! She was so patient and he was so eager to learn. Mission accomplished.
 

As for the final bullet item of making plans for vacation time with the family, summer seems to be consumed with baseball tournaments, but I've dipped my toes into the idea of traveling cross country. There are so many beautiful things to show the kids and before I know it, oldest will have her own license and won't want to be couped up with us. Dream plan is to fly west, rent an RV and visit the Grand Canyon. It's been daughters dream vacation for years...fingers crossed we can make it happen.

 

 

Challenge - Week Two

 Perfectly content to hibernate indoors, hidden away from people, quietly cleaning and organizing...Each day this week, I had to push past my comfy default to get out of the house, meet people, speak to others... a constant renewing of the mind to speak only positive, to move forward, seeking joy, spreading love. It doesn't always come naturally...but any good thing requires work. So, each day I gave myself a little pep talk...get out there, talk, listen, share, love. Moving in the right direction, until I owned it.

My week was looking pretty phenomenal until the busy days closed in and I worried I had over-booked. One event stacked after another, until the universe intervened and snow canceled most plans leaving only the most important. I savored a long lunch and shopping with a friend, played some killer ping-pong, cheered daughter's first sports banquet, comforted a mourning friend, and listened as a brave friend poured out her difficult history to a room full of young moms. I searched and found some cute furniture to tidy up a few more piles, and helped Tim paint more of the basement (relieved he decided to keep the color). Each venture filled my cup, leaving me better off than I started. Hoping that I was able to give as much as I received.

Each day was a new struggle, however. A new opportunity to choose sadness or joy, dark or light. Not depression, but close. However, a special someone  is struggling desperately with depression...finding it difficult each day to peel back the covers and place her feet on solid ground. Attempting to fill the void with food, weepy and sleepy most of the day. Your mind and body scream stay put...fight it, sweet girl. You are meant for more than this. Rise, find some small thing to be thankful for, put one foot in front of the other and live. Don't merely exist. Make connections, find something that brings you joy, breathe, pray, move. This, too, shall pass.

The Good Ones

Another tender soul has succumb to Cancer. Last week, a young mother of two took her final breath after a long battle with the beast. She had an infectious smile, one that would travel up her cheeks and settle into her eyes with a twinkle. Wishing for more time, I had only two short evenings with her. But that's all you needed to love her so.

It stirs up too familiar feelings...why does Cancer seem to feast on the bright lights of this world? More generic, why do bad things happen to good people? It seems the truly evil, and even mildly naughty often manage a clear bill. I know a few people that would deserve such justice. But thankfully, I'm not sovereign, I don't make the rules. Perhaps the good ones have learned life's lesson early and no longer need to suffer here. Their reward awaits on the other side. Mean while, the rest of us need more training. What if this world is simply training grounds for something better? What if this place we call home is simply a pit-stop? Plucked from it like a carnival claw game if you've managed to live a righteous life despite your circumstances? Overcome with sadness among those  left behind, but ultimately we're moving thru our own test?

Not sure why good people suffer while the naughty thrive. All I know is that this place we live is certainly not Heaven. Terrible injustice and evil intermingles with the sweet and pure at every moment. A wicked dance. A terrible struggle. Sadness, mourning, loss, depression, suicide, abuse, gossip, stress, illness. Joy, love, laughter, beauty, peace, charity, support, kindness, trust, compassion, grace. All living

together..yin and yang. I suppose the trick is to look at this life we're given in the positive ....darkness is inevitable, but choose light. Death is unavoidable, but remember their life. Hate is an option, but choose love.

She, like so many others I know, lived a life of love. There was struggle and sadness, but the common thread is that they focused on the positive...as thin as it appeared at times. More of us should lift our eyes to that goal...stretching and reaching for the positive in this desperate world. Linda, Bill, Carol, Kim, Tom, Gerald...I want to live like that.

Challenge - Week One

Week one into my challenge...no earth shattering changes occurred, but incremental steps in the right direction. Task one was successfully accomplished as the majority of each day began with dedicated time with just me, my Bible and God. I sweetly ushered the kids off for school, made myself some tea, and settled down in my sacred spot. I'm in Psalms...David is being sought after by blood thirsty assassins. Why so downcast oh my soul...he's having a really bad day. My chapter finished, I tip my head back and offer up some gratitude for that day. Thankful for healthy family, thankful that Tim has a fruitful job allowing me to stay home, thankful that Mom is with Him. I can only imagine the joy she must be feeling right now. I linger a bit, thankful for blessings to come and open eyes to see them..I find myself calm, focused, ready to attack the day.

Task two... quality time with the family seemed strangely awkward, something that needed to be guided with much intention. Kids were confused by my suggestion to play a long unopened board

game. Son says that's why they're called bored games. They played along, however, and he even sat nearby to make sure I didn't cheat thru round two. It is truly much easier to sit and stare at the phone...all the possibilities of games, information, crafty inspiration. I felt a magnetic pull drawling me back to check endlessly...like swinging open the fridge door hoping for something magical to appear. Must resist the pull (said in my best Captain Kirk voice). Instead, I played the music loud and made some brownies. A good country song inspired a solo two-step, son didn't want to join in, but he was watchin' and a-grinnin'.

Setting aside time for three friends and one unexpected connection was a sweet treat. We caught up and sat eye-to-eye, not once to tell Facebook where I was or stopping to take a selfie. Their stories magnificent, rich, sometimes heavy creating such thoughtful human beings. Communication is truly an art..one that needs to be honed and appreciated. I adore friends that ask meaningful questions and find myself doing more of the same. We shared hugs, held hands when one of us needed that extra squeeze, and left feeling filled to the brim.

My next task of completing annoying tasks was, well, annoying. I suppose that's why I've procrastinated. I've been sitting on a complicated insurance issue that I knew would require several lengthy phone calls. I bit the bullet, made the calls, explained too many times, and soon after, the problem was resolved. Everyone satisfied and thankfully off my plate forever! One less nagging task in my must-do pile. Another task was painting our 11-year-primer-white basement. A little too ambitious with this task, I set aside a snowy afternoon and for three hours I attacked walls. Sadly, the color is not making hubby happy. His manly basement a little too girlie. So, that task will most likely need to be redone...lesson learned, paint small area for approval first.

Overall, this first week of my challenge I find myself feeling very productive, very intentional. Inspiring myself to live smarter, kinder, with more love. Making connections with family and friends before time passes by. Using precious time more efficiently but at the same time, filling the quiet gaps with soul searching, laughter, and making sweet memories.  Encouraging more of the same this coming week.

 

 

Silver Lining Challenge

Not being a professional on the topic of life change, I've decided to go with what I know...myself. I'll report what I've done, what changes I've made, and the results that issue forth. One thing is true...change has occurred and there's no returning to the sleepy days of coasting thru life. I'm newly aware and anything else will just appear bland. Hopefully, you'll harvest something inspirational from my findings and incorporate something new into your own life. Here's what I'll be up to:

• Spending 10 min reading the Bible and having a nice, quiet dialogue with God each morning sets the tone for my day. It weeds out the unnecessary and fills me up to the brim with a whole different level of love and peace. I'm able to share a genuine love not one that is tinny or fabricated. Only then can I properly proceed with my day. 

 

• Spending time with family...good, intentional, phones down, eye gazing, ears and hearts open quality time. Daughter has called me out on excessive phone use...our smart phones have created time and attention sucks. My plan is to set a maximum screen time for the day the rest will include old-school activities...games, books (gasp!), crafts, and outdoor activities...good old fashioned memory making.

 

• Setting aside time for friends...each week, I'll meet up with at least one friend for uninterrupted quality time. Too often I've promised friends to set a date only to have life rush forward with no time spent. I've learned that if you have the prompting to reach out to a friend, that you should always follow through. There are so many souls with fabulous stories...I aim to spread love and joy one person at a time.

 

• Completing all annoying tasks...I have an exhausting list of unfinished tasks...pictures never framed, paint never applied, rooms unfinished. One by one, they will be completed so that when I pass by, I will no longer feel guilt but joy. I am surrounding myself with things that make me (and my family) happy! If it doesn't bring joy, out it goes!

 

• No longer living vicariously thru others. I will be researching, saving for, and fulfilling our family wish / bucket list items. Children will soon be grown and no longer wish to be seen with us. Memories are itching to be made. Life is indeed too short to wait for a more perfect time.

So this is my personal challenge...I'll keep you posted on my developments! If you're feeling motivated, play along and keep me updated as well! Much love and success to you, my friend!

 

 

Beautiful Friend

I recently had a conversation with my daughter about friends that simply could not see their value, their beauty. Painful words or actions delivered by a 'loved one' have made them feel unworthy. Consequently, they settle for less, they can't accept compliments, make questionable choices, traveling down dark paths. It made me realize many of my adult friends share this line of thought. Perhaps even I think this way at times. I've gathered two handfuls of dear friends in one writing and believe that there are many others that share these sad self thoughts.

 

 

Sweet girl, you flutter by, never content, unable to see clearly that you are beautiful, skin to soul. This truth invisible to you. Lay down your baggage and rest. That burden was never yours to carry.  Stop your spinning, your constant search for steady ground. Trivial, unnecessary...your ever-shifting goal of approval, striving to be thinner, smarter, the perfect homemaker, the total package. Compared to whom? Compared to what? The perfect life will keep you waiting til the grave. 

 

You are worthy of more than this.

 

Our days are simply too short to strive and compare...pushing for that next goal, one less pound, the clean house, the perfect facade. Settling for toxic friends that rob your joy, dull your sparkle, drain your confidence, leaving you empty. Instead, seek joy, surround yourself with friends that love and uplift. Those that speak ill of you will fall away, thankfully bored. No longer requiring their approval, their perceived social status, their false attention.

 

Hurt from the past still so very present. Crude words spoken have altered your image.  Unspeakable actions molding your beliefs.  Unsurmountable loss creating a raw heart.  Creating a guarded, tough exterior yet fragile just beneath. So expectant of disappointment. No answer for why, only consider what you've become.  So willing to help those kindred pained spirits. Heart filled to over-flowing for others in need. Pain turned  positive...never damaged goods. You are so much better than you believe. Embrace your beauty, sweet friend. You are so beautiful, so worthy of love, joy, peace.

 

Therapy

Saving the world must temporarily wait as I'm in the middle of a massive Self-Examination. Mom's eulogy detailed how closely she lived according to the Love is Patient, Love is Kind guidelines. Am I patient? Am I kind? I'd like to think the majority of the time I am. Am I slow to anger? Do I keep no record of wrongs? Hmmm. Don't let Tim answer that one. If the greatest of all things is Love, am I living up to the challenge?

95% of the time I am full of joy and cheer. The balance are my yuck days. Days I don't feel like doing anything, much rather stay in bed days. I wonder sometimes if it's depression. In my happy cycle, I'm effective, organized, on point. In the other cycle, I carry loads of 'I don't wannas'. Unmotivated to do any task. My dad often stares into oblivion. I click my fingers to awaken him and he travels back from wherever he was lodged.

I recently found myself staring as well.

It's comfortable. I'm looking but not seeing. Protecting. Insulating. Not thinking of anything...barely breathing. Hoping it's just a side effect of recent events and I return to my happy 95%. I can see why my Dad so often finds solace in sleep. You don't think, you don't feel. Those first few moments of sleep-filled peace before your eyes open are so sweet. Then awareness seeps in and familiar thoughts return. I remember again and it consumes me another day. Happy moments followed by realization then sadness. One vicious cycle that I'm sure will slow. It's not who I am...it's just where I am at the moment. I wonder if my Dad will ever become aware of his depression...will he actively fight it? Or will he choose to remain far, far away?

Until recently, I was a very angry girl.

I carried a lot of negative energy towards the choices my Dad made. I couldn't understand why he lived by such a different definition of love. Visibly upset years ago, he expressed that he wished he had been around more when we were younger. Still, he chose to remain in an all consuming hobby of a job that never supported the family. In my mind, he chose the store over me. He chose the store

over my Mom. His decision required Mom to work long hours. The bottom line is that it created a very angry Lisa. One that didn't want to travel down to visit. One that treated her husband who once reminded her of her bubbly father as suddenly sub-par when the daddy bubble burst. One that didn't want to communicate with her far-off family.

I had the pleasure of meeting a dear lady that taught me that we don't need to carry others consequences. Basically let them own their own stuff. (ok, so she said a different word..). I can only live my life the best way I can based on current knowledge and they must do the same. In the process, their definition might be completely different. His definition of love is completely different than mine....and I'm learning to be satisfied with that. The anger is slowly departing. It was never mine to carry, I just picked it up along the way by mistake.

So, now you have a mildly depressed, angry image of Lisa...not quite the bubbly, cheerful image I present every day. I am ridiculously blessed to have a husband that thinks I wear a crown, and children that make me proud every single day. It makes me wonder, however...how many others are walking around behind a mask? Building, maintaining and presenting a front for everyone to make their life appear content, healthy, joy-filled, “normal”, meanwhile covering deep pain.

I enjoyed the company of a room full of friends and strangers this weekend and looking around, I considered how many others are dealing with pain, hurt, disappointment, illness, anger, depression, abuse. The pain options become endless. Overwhelming.

I will start by loving myself...accepting my imperfection, appreciating every moment...and when I have my 5% days, I will show myself Grace. Only then, can I show and share love with every person that God places in my path. Showing love....one imperfect person at a time.

What Next?

Many have approached me to offer their thoughts on my writing, telling me they connected my loss with their own, many offering praise on my writing ability. Humbly, I offer my thanks, but this entire process has made me question everything. Every aspect of my life is up for inspection. Do I continue writing? Could I write as eloquently without the passion of those incredible moments? Deeper, what am I passionate about? What truly brings me joy?

I've attended many business related self-help seminars where you leave wired, ready to attack the world. Then shortly afterwards, you are exactly where you started. Sometimes even lower than you started with the added guilt of not performing up to par. This month has left me feeling like every single neuron is now sitting just barely beneath the surface. Beyond just feeling emotional, I crave more from every moment. I don't want to loose this heightened awareness. I don't want to look back in a few weeks, settled back into my routine, and see that I am exactly where I started. I want to examine every friendship. I want to be a better friend. I want to expect the same from those around me. I want to be a more present mom. I want to find what brings my family joy and shower it upon them. I want to remove those things around my home and in my life that do not bring me absolute joy. I don't want to be on my death bed and wish that I had done this life-examination sooner. I want to consider what I put in and on my body to encourage better health. Maya and I are now prime candidates for Cancer. Why not attack it before it rears it's ugly head..slowing any potential growth or prevent it in the first place? So many questions... An old friend at the funeral had recently experienced a similar loss and he mirrored my feelings of not wanting to loose this raw emotion...this heightened awareness. Do you have to experience extreme loss to feel this way? Hasn't everyone experienced some sort of loss? Could I possibly spread my Mom's kind of love among my family, my friends, my community? Would they get it? Would I appear crazy? Do I care? So many questions...where do I even begin?

Love seems as good a place as any to begin. I don't want to pick up some surface level challenge where I start paying Starbucks bills for the car behind me...it has to be more significant than that. There are so many people out there silently hurting. How do I reach them? My tea-shop gals shoot love and peace out in a radius around them like ripples in a pond. Is that enough? My mom had this gift of being able to tell when anyone needed more love. A townie gal bad-mouthed my mom, my family, and when we 'educated' her on the details instead of keeping her distance or becoming angry, she shocked us all by continuing to reach out to her. This gal was very ill, had experienced great loss, it was clearly eating her up inside and making her bitter. My mom saw through her anger and loved her still. Always checking in on her...loving her regardless of her exterior conditions. So, my questions become how do I find those silently hurting and how do I love them? And so it begins...my transformation into finding, spreading, and culminating love. Stick with me if you wish to join my revolution.

Eulogy

We've all heard the scripture Love is Patient, Love is Kind from 1^st Corinthians...it's on plaques at Home Goods, it's tattooed, it's proclaimed at weddings. Because God is Love, you can easily replace the word Love with God...God is Patient, God is Kind...It offers a guide line for Christians in this crazy world.. it gives us some elevated way to live our life but so often we miss the mark. However, looking back, I realized how closely my Mom lived this guideline. She had every opportunity to shake her fist at God, become bitter, angry, empty of love, instead, she radiated this way of life. Mastered it. Let me show you how well she loved.

Love is Patient: Every Thanksgiving I reach my boiling point when I make the final dish..gravy. It never thickened quickly enough, turkey growing cold, bellies rumbling, I frantically whisk and whisk until Mom stepped in and took the weapon out of my grip and relinquished me of my beatings. Sure enough, with her love and attention, the gravy thickened and dinner began. She was patient.

Love is Kind: Recently going thru every single thank you card she ever kept, I saw countless notes from new parents thanking her for her kindness and gentle spirit as she lovingly ushered their newborn into this world. I'm pretty sure it made her the best Nurse ever. (although racing me around the dining room table with the immunizations she could bring home definitely didn't feel kind at the moment). She was kind.

Love does not envy or boast: Whatever she had she gave to others. If she had two pennies, she'd give you both. She spoke sweet stories of her friend, Karen and her amazingly decorated house and themed tabletops. I often wondered if she left deflated, thinking she didn't have an equally trimmed home, but she remained joyful for Karen's skills, she was very proud of her dearest friend. She was never ungrateful or jealous. She did not envy.

Love is not proud: She never spoke as if she was better than another. She carried herself oftentimes as lower than those around her...an unsung hero. There was nothing beneath her...quick to change a soiled diaper, open to take in stranded family members, she gave all of her time and energy to help raise, organize, nurture, and tidy up our family. She was not proud.

Love is not rude: I think I can speak for everyone here in agreement that she never spoke a rude word. I never heard a curse word uttered, never a discouraging word, never demeaning. I know I certainly have and when I slipped in her presence, she would hum her signature calming tune. (insert hum...) Subconscious or not, it always changed the atmosphere. She was not rude.

Love is not self-seeking: ..she always took second place..sometimes third or fourth. Quiet and unassuming...a wonder woman in disguise. Mom never put herself first...always made dinner plates for every single family member before serving herself. Let her children use her car and found her own ride to work. Instead of resting, she would take Grandma on errands and doctor appointments. She was never self-seeking.

Love is not easily angered: Not once did I see her angry. When her father was shot in a liquor store robbery, the evening news briefly highlighted the event and Bryan and I were too loud playing nearby...or more likely fighting...and she rushed out frustrated that she couldn't hear the broadcast. Looking back, I gladly would have taken a spanking...but she contained herself. Knowing all that we three children put her thru, she contained herself like a saint! She was certainly not easily angered.

Love keeps no record of wrongs: Bryan, Jody and I have a laundry list of wrongs...all long forgiven...she certainly never rubbed our noses in it. She loved us in spite of our faults. She loved us equally, never judging. We all have a lot to learn from her. She kept no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in truth: You could look at the Cancer within her as evil..as a beast. I certainly did. Instead, she looked at the path of her life as only drawing nearer to her proper home. For months now she has been joyful about seeing Heaven...Seeing God, Jesus, reunited with her father, her mother, her sister. And at 1: 46am on January 2, I know she truly was rejoicing in that truth.

Love always protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres. She fought nobly, without complaint for 16 years...If that's not perseverance, I don't know what is. She sat for 6 long hours with chemo drips contently listening to Luke Bryan. As a Nurse, she was fully aware of her odds, but she always trusted and hoped for one additional day. I think she got that and much more. She always trusted, always hoped, always perservered.

Love never fails: Even in death, her love remains. Stuart Scott of ESPN passed two days after my Mother and spoke such profound words that resonated in my core and really speaks volumes about how she lived. He said, “ When you die, it doesn't mean you loose to Cancer. You beat Cancer by how you live, why you live, and the manner in which you live.” She never failed. She never stopped loving. She beat Cancer by loving until her very last breath.

The Love is Patient guideline scripture ends with Faith, Hope, and Love. But the greatest of these is Love. I know the greatest legacy she could possibly leave behind is to encourage us all to love..Love better, love more, love harder, love more often, love when it hurts, love when you really want to kick, Love yourself, love the unlovable, love that annoying person because they need it more, love with every ounce of your being, love every single person that touches your life. She sure did.

The Days After

Moments after 1:45am, January 2, 2015, I transformed from loving comforter to committed funeral planner.  She told me her wishes, now was my time to execute.  Home at 3am, restless at 6am, I climbed out of bed and hit the ground.  Freshen up as visitors will begin to arrive, begin to clean kitchen for same reasons.  By 8am, the funeral home was calling..I suppose that means Mom's earth suit was transported back to Federalsburg.  They were available to meet, so I raced in town to hammer out the details.  They had the perfect dark blue urn (her favorite color) and a guest book/card set with the garden of her dreams printed upon it's cover.  This is going so smoothly. Too smoothly...I think  I must be heartless, cold, why am I not a quivering mess?  I'm in Get-It-Done mode. A dear friend compared it to planning a wedding and that only after will this all settle in.

I have to identify her before cremation.  Thankful that I don't have to witness her in foreign surroundings, the owner traipses downstairs to take a picture.  I can hear every step so I can imagine Mom right beneath me.  I distract myself with desk brochures...steps returning.  I take a deep breath and wait for the photo to load on her desktop monitor.  Yes, that's her.  They did something with her mouth because now it's closed.  She appears content, peaceful...the faintest hint of a Mona Lisa-esque smile.  I'm tasked with forms to complete and her obituary to forward and still without a tear, I'm out the door.  Leaving her behind. 

Returning to Pepper Road, brother calls to inform me he has broken the news to our 90yo Grandmother.  She's distraught.  Feeling like she's lost her best friend.  I think, surely she's been thru this countless times, I always assume older people handle death easier.  Shifting from park to reverse, I motor over to her home...partly my Dad's store (which is open that day, by the way).  Bryan reports he needs the distraction...I scowl at the sole customer leaning over the counter.  Don't you have anything better to do?  Are you really waiting for a vehicle?  I digress...that's another post.  I find Grandma in the kitchen, more frail than I saw her last.  I hadn't visited while I was on Mom duty.  I couldn't handle anything more.  She's crying.  I can't remember the last time I saw her cry.  Mom was always helping her clean, organize, transporting her to doctors visits, the hair salon, and bank.  I comfort her the best I can, having to yell to be heard makes me feel insincere.  No one had updated her these past 12 days so she was shocked...last we spoke, she hoped Mom would 'snap out of it'. 

Back home, gracious family arrives with sandwiches in tow.  I didn't realize how hungry I was for food and laughter.  They truly are both good medicines. After, I begin sorting Mom's room with Jody. Mom had tasked us with taking what was sentimental to us and sending the rest to Goodwill.  I've seen family and friends transform after death..suddenly nasty, suspicious, greedy.  When Tim's grandfather Gerald died, his home was looted by friends and family...pictures snagged from walls, seasoned cast iron pots lifted.  No shame.  So, I'm careful to tell everyone of anything I claim as mine.  Of all items, I'm only interested in Mom and Grandma Hasting's recipe boxes.  Cards written in their handwriting.  Family recipes and traditions to continue. 

Back home in Shrewsbury, Pa, it's more flurry...sweet friends make us dinner and grace me with moments to reflect and share.  But still no breakdown.  Friends text daily to see if I'm still breathing.  Waiting for the floodgates to open, I ask Tim if he thinks I'm heartless.  We agree that I've been crying for months.  When she called to report her Cancer numbers were high again, I wept.  When she called to tell me she was taking a break from chemo, I wept.  When I felt far away and helpless, I wept.  I've leaked a lot over a long time and now only peace remains. We Christians mourn, but not as those who have no hope. I am wearing a completely different set of spectacles by which I see this world...this temporary dwelling where we are tested and grown daily to become something better.  (yet another post...).  So, friends, in the moment I write this, I am breathing, moving thru the day, not bed-bound.  I can't speak for tomorrow or even later today, however.  But know that your prayers, hugs, love, messages, texts, calls, meals, gifts, and visits are appreciated more than I can express.  Much love returned to every single one.  xoxo