Celebration of Life...And Death

The month of May has been challenging to say the least.
(And the 'least' I say the better, right?)

Early in May my family had the privilege of hosting/attending the 90th birthday of my Dad.  It was fun to do, especially since my sister-in-law Sally did most of the work while the rest of us did whatever she wanted us to do.

For once.

Anyway, that gathering was a great blessing to me, as it brought many friends, family, and associates together to honor my Dad and let him know how he had influenced them over the years.

It was a blessing too because I was able to work alongside my siblings in a way we rarely-if ever-get to do.
I was able to witness what other families see as commonplace- everyone working together for a common goal.

I knew my Dad had gained many friends over the years.  But to hear them share their pleasure at being included in this celebration really showed me that I'm in a pretty cool family. It was a joyful experience.

The following week I was notified of the death of a dear church lady.  This widow lady was someone I would call a 'delightful disaster.'  Ruth was the smartest, sweetest, most clueless person I ever met.  Everyone who knew her would just smile, shake their heads and say, "Bless her heart."

My most memorable experience with Ruth was the time she asked me to go with her to her late husband's graveside.  Once we got there she pulled her ukelele out of it's battered case, sat down on the grave and began playing and singing, 'Won't You Come Home Bill Bailey?"  It felt weird; but not much really felt weird around Ruth.

Ruth never met an animal she didn't love; she had nicknames and endearments for everyone's pets and remembered their names.  Interestingly, one of her requests for those attending her viewing or funeral was to bring their pet.  As I stood beside her casket I thought it was somehow fitting that my dog Teddy was there too.

As I left the funeral home that evening, I was struck by how similar yet different these two life events were.

One, my Dad's birthday, was celebrating his long life and the gathering of dear friends.

The other, Ruth's funeral, was also a celebration. I couldn't help but celebrate that Ruth was finally reunited with her husband Don and her son Joe there in Heaven.  I thought about how we had honored someone's life so far and celebrated where someone else's life is headed.

I'm so happy for my Dad.  I hope he understands how much he is loved (and sometimes simply tolerated!) by his friends, family, and golfing buddies.  Not many folks get the chance to experience so many healthy years with such good people.

But I'm especially happy for Ruth.  We had our differences to be sure.  But I can just picture her in Heaven, sitting at Jesus' feet, greeting (by name) every dog-cat-parakeet-bunny-guinea pig that she had ever loved while on earth. I wouldn't be surprised if God put her in charge of the Celestial Zoo and Kennel.

Now THAT would be heaven for her.

Rubbing It In

I am not a gracious winner.

Since grade school I, like most of you, was taught to be a gracious loser.  As if we needed training to handle something rare.

We're supposed to shake our opponent's hand and say such lame things as
"Good game"
"Nice job"
"Great catch"

when we REALLY mean

"You jerk"
"You cheated"
"I was better than you."

The winner then is expected to humbly bow their head, scuff up the dirt with their dusty tennis shoe and mumble

"Aw shucks, it ain't nuthin.'"

Well, let me tell you what I do:

I rub it in.

When I win I celebrate my victory like it was Wimbleton.  The World Series. The Oscars.

I gloat, I poke, I do my dance of joy.

When it's in a conversation against someone and my side wins I insist the loser repeat "You were right"
until I'm satisfied. Sometimes it takes all day...

I stop at having them put it on Facebook but I'm seriously thinking about it.

So what if I'm not gracious?

It ain't nuthin.'

Understanding the Grief of Others

We really can't understand what we haven't experienced.

Or, more honestly, we'd like to understand it WITHOUT having experienced it.

I'd love to nod and give perfect wisdom to dear friends who experience pain and grief.

And it's so easy to give advice to someone who is indescribably burdened.  We quote verses and tell them to trust God.  We say 'This too shall pass."  And we go home.

Admittedly, it's very difficult for me to walk alongside someone who needs me in a crisis. Sometimes I want to cut and run.

I grieve as I watch friends and other loved ones suffer.  I want to get into the mix and fix it.

I want to hire a ninja.

But since I can't, all I can do is BE with the sufferer.  Not to say things or to heal anyone.  Just to be a calm/protecting presence in the crisis.

Only then can we begin to understand the grief of others.

You Have GOT To Be Kidding!

My sense of humor is often twisted.

Now quit rolling your eyes they might stick that way.

I think it's funny to be slightly inappropriate when it's least expected.  I have too many examples to name (perhaps those of you who know me would like to share...).

But even I have my limits.

Okay, admittedly I have very few limits but this is one of them.

White Castle scented candles.

Yes.

The bane of women and teenage-girls-on-dates everywhere White Castle.

Of course, I don't know if it's pre-eaten White Castle or post-eaten White Castle; either one strikes fear into my heart.

I have a 'no White Castles in my office' rule at work.  Seriously.  That room is just too small.

I have actually watched couples FIGHT over whether hubby should stop there on the way home. Or if he already had.

Anyway, I see(smell?) trouble looming.   I wonder if this is the beginning of the end for mankind. Instead of mace or pepper spray in our desk drawers or purses we have to carry portable febreeze.

Or we could propose a ban on matches.  After all, White Castle scented candles don't kill people- but lighting them might.

checking In

Hey Folks.

Just checking in to check to see if you've been checking up on me.

Check?

Check.

It's been a busy year so far although I can't tell you what has kept me so busy.  From talking to other people I don't seem to be the only person to experience this.

I've even taken to writing down in my day planner what I actually did that day.

 Apparently I'm a pretty busy gal.

This is when I'm supposed to talk to you about mindfulness; that being the habit of noticing and making sure you experience every moment of your life, making sure you appreciate and savor it all.

I realized not too long ago that most of us focus more on what's NEXT rather than what's NOW.  What we have to DO rather than what we're DOING.

It's time to stop and smell the roses, I think.  What good is life when it becomes a check list rather than an experience?

So I'm checking out right now to check in with my dear hubby and check out in front of the tv.

Check?

Check.

Be Careful What You Wish For

When the new year began I decided I was tired of the 'somedays' of my life.

SOMEDAY I'm going to keep all my lunch meeting promises with friends.

SOMEDAY I'm going to take my dog for more walks.

SOMEDAY I'll take MYSELF for more walks!

SOMEDAY I'll start planning to accomplish a few things on my bucket list.


So in my fervor to accomplish something I asked hubby Don to go away for a weekend so I can finally concentrate on writing my new book.  He was willing and I felt satisfied.

His weekend visit is now a weeklong trip to Florida to visit his family (I'm glad cuz his family is important).

But now I'm faced with the reality of doing what I set out to do- write my new book.

The 'what if's' that strike us all is in my face with a vengeance.

WHAT IF I can't express what I want to say?

WHAT IF I have writer's block?

WHAT IF I sound like every other Christian writer out there?

WHAT IF it is too long or too short when I'm done?

WHAT IF I have a stroke of genius and I get accused of plagiarism?

At any rate, I can rest in the fact that I'm not expected to produce a masterpiece with my first draft.

That's a comfort.

It's just that this next work is way deeper than my first one, "Lord, Shut Me Up!"  I'm already opening up some of my own pain and hurts from my past.  That's risky. Plus, um, it hurts.

So as I pray and write and pray some more, I have to admit that risk is risky and sometimes we have to be careful what we wish for.

We just might get it.

Wanderings and Ponderings

I've always known I don't think like other folks.  And other folks who think wonder what I'm thinking.

So here's what I think I've been thinking lately.

I've been visiting Pinterest quite a bit.  I love that it's like shopping without dragging a bored husband along.  It's like collecting magazine articles and photos without scissors (and I'm dangerous with scissors).

Such a variety of ideas and interests!  My collection of pins seems to be comprised mostly of rude comments and cute animals.

Culling through the assortment of available pins I often wonder how that photo was taken.  Where were they, how did they do it?  Some of my questions include the phrase, "Why bother?"  Oh, and/or "Who cares?" Let's not forget the classic "What IS it?"

But what has caught my attention lately are the cutesy pictures of the awwwwdorable baby photos.  Now I like baby pictures as much as anyone- not really- I only think MY babies were adorable.  All the others are simply tolerable.

So what I'm wondering lately is who ever thought to stuff sleeping babies in flowerpots and mailboxes?  What creative genius thought putting naked sleeping babies on flower petals was a good idea?  Is that legal?

And where did they find the babies?  Did they send out a request to talent agencies looking for naked sleeping newborns?  Cute naked sleeping newborns.  Cute naked sleeping newborns who could look even cuter wearing little angel wings and bumblebee costumes.

Or did the photographers sneak into hospital nurseries in the middle of the night, pick out the adorable one with the little headband on who just happened to be sleeping resting his/her little head in his/her cute little hand?

I worry about things like this!

In 20 years or so I can just picture a new client sitting in my office with this issue:

"It all began when I was a newborn..."