Drought Unable to Prevent Color

For several weeks prior to the leaves putting on the current display many of us are enjoying, I read reports of how fall foliage would be minimal this year due to the drought conditions and high heat we experienced over the summer months. What happened? As I type this I am looking out my window through several heavily wooded acres. I see oak, cherry, maple, dogwood, crabapple, beech, and more~~ all gloriously arrayed in the colors of autumn. I so look forward to this display every year. There are always the favorite trees to look for and they have not disappointed this year. One Japanese Maple in my yard is so brilliant it almost looks like flames (the Burning Bush?).
There is something inherently soothing about cycles. The change of the seasons, morning and nightfall. The end of the school year, holidays, work and school week followed by a weekend.
I would not like living in a place where there was no change of seasons. Yes, we all complain about the heat of The Valley, and are miserably, stifling hot come July and August, but all the better to enjoy cool November mornings, needing a sweater as you head out the door, and fires with hot chocolate.
Thinking about the seasons always gets my mind on the Liturgical Calendar and then to Scripture. I need to remember that God is Sovereign, the only One who never changes. Despite drought, earthquake, famine, financial chaos, come what may, God remains the same. Over the last few years I have learned in a bone crushing way that all else can, and will be lost. God is the only One who will never change.

Blessed is the man who trusts the Lord, whose trust is the Lord.
He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and it is not anxious in the
fear of the drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.
Jeremiah 17:7-8

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be removed, and the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; though the waters roar and the mountains shake.
We will not fear though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though its mountains tremble with its tumult.
Psalm 46:1-3

Martin Luther wrote A Mighty Fortress Is Our God from inspiration he received from these verses from this Psalm. One of my favorite hymns.

Have a great day, enjoy the leaves and each moment.

Peace,
Lisa

Angry in Lakebottom

There is a woman I see several times a week when I walk the track at Lakebottom. She will not return a smile or greeting. In fact, just the opposite. She is seething. I have tried numerous times to engage her with eye contact, smiles or even spoken greetings. She looks at me with such hatred, it gives me serious pause.
What has happened to cause her to be so vitriolic?
I think most of us reflect back what we've taken in. She has obviously been the recipient of unkindness. After I few times I thought--How dare she!?
Then I realized if I am to be a source of love in the world, which can frequently be a very unloving place, I must stay the course. When I cross her path I always smile, but if I'm honest I'll admit there are some days when I see her coming and I change direction before I meet her.

I once encountered a toddler with a pronounced facial deformity. I looked in her eyes and smiled and tried to engage her and. . . nothing. She stared back blankly and then looked away. She was reflecting back what she was accustomed to seeing. It made me sad for days. I wonder what became of this little girl, I wonder how she views the world.
I hope she found acceptance and peace.

The world is a harsh place and we could all, myself included, be kinder. I'm going to work on that today. And tomorrow morning if I see the woman walking at Lakebottom, I won't turn away.

Peace,
Lisa

Feeling It

If you don't feel the pain; examine it, acknowledge it, even look at it, it will not retreat.
For a myriad of reasons I have been in a real slump for weeks. I've experienced a recent disappointment, the death of a dream. Sometimes when this happens it awakens old hurts. And along comes the end of the school year with its award ceremonies and reminders that my husband and their father is dead. Relay for Life is next week-end, and Team Lucius is hard at work. . . I still stop and think: How did this happen? Surely, he is just gone for a time. I never thought I would be here at mid-life without the love of my life. It is hard to cook meals without thinking of Lucius, and sometimes I avoid the family atmosphere because it is excrutiatingly painful.
I still think of him mid-mornings around the time he would usually call just to say, "What are you up to?" After 25 years he still called me every day from work, usually a couple of times. I miss the sound of his key in the door. The girls miss the man whose approval they sought.

We miss him still. Always.

Sometimes Despair

My dear friend Betsey sent me a link to an artist's website this morning, she knew I was having a very rough patch and thought it would help. It did. The man's name is Danny Gregory, he is an artist/author of some repute. Recently his beloved wife died after living as a paraplegic for a number of years. She either fell or dragged herself over the balcony of their 8th floor Manhatten apartment.
There is something comforting to me in reading another person's words when that person has lost their soulmate. Not as in misery loves company, but as in this person does understand the depth, the breadth, the magnitude of my loss and pain. Even though I don't know him, and never will, he is out there and he knows. He articulated some of the very things I feel, some days on an hourly basis.
I do have the comfort of my faith, but sometimes we all need to know there are fellow travelers walking the earth at this time, who get it. And he gets it. No, we probably don't have the same spiritual or political belief system, doesn't matter, he gets it.
Reading this man's words have inspired me to shake off the present despair and know that joy is still in me. It is.

Homesick

Yesterday both of my children were away. I had plans for the evening, but I was home during the day gardening and puttering. Waves of nostalgia washed over me as I realized it had been this time FOUR years ago that I saw the first symptoms in Lucius. Most times it is the little things that make me miss him or someone else who or that is no longer, such as a simple time in my life when there was no hint of the heartache to come. When we were young marrieds and had over a decade together before children came, time seemed to be in endless supply then.
I see an old fashioned orange day lily and miss my maternal grandmother. Smell steaks cooking on a grill and remember my Daddy in his white t-shirt and shorts bringing Saturday supper into the house, him younger than I am now. The scent of chlorine brings back youth and summers that lasted forever. Motown music comes on the radio and I am a child again. . .

In a few short months Mary Casey will begin high school. This would be a sentimental time for any parent, but made so bittersweet by the absence of her father. He was and would still be so proud of the girls and the way they have handled themselves through a monumental tragic loss. I am thankful every day that we have held it together as well as we have.
Time marches on and I'm homesick.

Post Easter

Isn't it great to live on this side of Easter? I don't mean just THIS Easter, but the original Easter. Years ago I was in a study group with a wise woman who said she wondered if she would be so courageous if she were living in the days Jesus was alive.
Forgive me if I have written about this book before, Everything Belongs, by Richard Rohr, but it is simply too good not to mention every time I think about it. This book on contemplative prayer is one of my very favorites. I was re-reading a chapter today and so many sentences jumped off the page:

Many people become their thoughts. They do not have thoughts and feelings; the thoughts and feelings have them. It is what the ancients called "being possessed"
by a demon.

We won't see things as they are, we will see everything as we are.

We live too much in reaction to others. There's something strangely sweet about negative or accusatory feelings. It's a strange way to achieve moral superiority:
to feel right because someone else is wrong.

My minister preached on some of these things this past Sunday morning-- If we spend so much time focusing on what others are doing wrong, And pointing it out to them, why would anyone want to be a Christian? As Gandhi said, "I do so like your Christ, it is the Christians I do not like. They are so unlike Christ.

Don't misunderstand me, I needed to hear these words as much as anybody. I need to hear them every day.

In My Life

One of my favorite songs of all time is "In My Life," by the Beatles, written by Lennon and McCartney.

Some of the lyrics:

There are places I'll remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

I never thought I would be here at this time in my life alone, widowed and raising two precious girls without their father. At times it is nearly unbearable. I think of the secure childhood I had with a loving father who came home every night, a constant presence. How can it have happened that my girls do not have that? How?!
I think I have scrambled up the mountain only to see a big boulder come rolling toward me and push me back down into the valley of despair and loneliness. What saves me is the knowledge that I am not alone. God grieves for me and hurts with me. I do not believe God causes cancer, and I know that believers die of cancer at the same rate as non-believers. I just didn't think Lucius would ever get sick, let alone die in the prime of his life. Those sorts of things happened to other people. I thought.
When I revisit those early days of the illness discovery, realizing Isabelle was in her first week of kindergarten, it threatens to undo me. But it will not. I will press forward, these girls need me. They hurt now, but will feel their loss more in the years to come: When they began dating, graduate, get married, have children of their own. My hope and prayer for them is that they will always carry the enormous love their Daddy had for them wherever they go. His last words were to ask Isabelle where she was going, just a few days before he died. I don't think he was referring just to her plans for the day.

Peace,
Lisa

Entering Holy Week

Lent is heavy on my heart, weighing on my shoulders and invading my dreams.
Tomorrow we celebrate Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem on the back of a young donkey. We will wave the palms and sing Hosanna!

For the contemplative person grief can be compounded by this season. For me it has been a necessary part of the four year journey we've been on. Indeed, it was about four years ago this month that I first began making written notations of Lucius' behavioral changes. He wasn't diagnosed with the brain tumor until August of that year, so there was a time period of wondering and questioning. Sort of what I find myself doing during Lent.

Two days ago I had an appointment with my counselor at the Pastoral Institute. A wonderful woman I began seeing the first year of Lucius' illness. She lost her husband in a car wreck, so she is familiar with grief and the aftermath. I was lamenting some things I wish I had done differently over the past few months and sharing my disappointment and grief over an issue the girls and I were struggling with. She gave me several gems of wise counsel that I will treasure forever. Among them was her suggestion that I avoid people who were overly critical or givers of unsolicited advice. When I asked why, she replied, "You do such a good job beating yourself up, and as strong as you are, I don't think you can hold up under anyone else doing it." Ouch!

I felt free and equipped to move forward. Sometimes you just need a gentle push.

Maundy Thursday is next week. After the triumph and joy on Palm Sunday, I will again be in the choir loft, but the songs won't be joyful. They will be anguished and filled with great sorrow and regret. But, Easter is coming.

I am making an Easter Basket in my soul this year. I am placing in it all the good gifts I have been given. My basket, and my cup overflows. Thanks be to God.

There is a story about a Navajo grandfather who told his grandson, "There are two wolves who live inside of me. One is the bad wolf, full of greed and laziness, full of anger and jealousy and regret. The other is the good wolf, full of joy and compassion and willingness and a great love for the world. All the time these wolves are fighting inside me."
"But grandfather," the boy said. "Which wolf will win?"
The grandfather answered, "The one I feed."

Peace,
Lisa

Synchronicity and Carl Jung

Synchronicity (noun)

1. The state of being synchronous or simultaneous, synchronism.
2. Coincidence of events that seem to be meaningfully related, conceived in Jungian theory as an explanatory principle on the same order as causality.

Carl Jung was the first modern psychologist to espouse that the human being is by nature a spiritual creature and that we should explore this part of our beings. He was a pioneer in the field of dreams and the subconscious.

I have read some of Jung's writing and find it most interesting and quite cutting edge for its time. While I agree with much of his thinking on these subjects, I prefer to employ Providencial as the term of choice. Whatever you call it, it happens to me often. I think it happens to many people, if not all of us. I think some are more in tune than others. Pay attention. There really may not be such a thing as coincidence.

Peace,
Lisa

On My Knees

God is showing me that is where I must be today, and perhaps for days to come. After a very painful couple of months, I had a decision to make, one I referenced in the previous offering. Pain has followed that decision. Pain can be good, we can learn from it. Yes, I am preaching to myself in an attempt to convince me that it is so. . . .
So many times over the past 4 years (and many other times in my life as well), I've had to be shown, sometimes in excrutiating ways, that God alone must be enough. After being married very young and for 25 years, it has been harder to be alone that I could have ever imagined. Lucius took good care of us, and he loved me and the girls with his whole heart. He was everything I ever wanted in a man. I thought the memories of that would be enough, and they are a comfort. Although when it's late at night and you're alone and lonely--there is a difference between the two, it's hard to rely on God completely sometimes. Like my wonderful pastor says, "Sometimes you need someone with skin."
It is a glowing testament to Lucius that I would consider marrying again. Now, I just need to let God direct me, not the world. I say God is Sovereign, but living it isn't always as easy as speaking it. Talk is cheap.
Over these past 4 years I've learned more about people than in the other 45 years of my life. Sometimes the very ones you think surely couldn't have much to offer you in the way of wisdom, comfort, or encouragement, are the very people who can offer you a glimpse into the heart of The Almighty. And, sometimes the ones who think they know what's best for you are the ones who know the least.
Today I am thanking God for the rest and comfort offered, and I am remembering to keep my eyes and heart open to new things God may want me to see or hear.

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:7

Peace,
Lisa

Discernment and Holy Trinity

In January of this year I attended a retreat at Holy Trinity. I am a dyed in the wool Presbyterian, but have always been attracted to the idea of a convent or monastery. Apparently, I've read one too many Kathleen Norris books. Oh alright, everyone of them actually.

At this retreat, which began on a Friday evening and continued through Sunday afternoon, I met several of the Sisters, order of The Most Blessed Trinity. After speaking briefly to one sister at the Friday night registration, about nothing of great significance, I did not see her until the following morning. The next morning she approached me in her humble and gracious way, and asked if we might speak for a few minutes. She shared with me that her sleep was interrupted many times during the previous night and when awakened my face kept coming to her mind. I listened attentively, slightly on edge (I mean c'mon, a nun of 50 years service seeks you out, I could almost hear the ominous musical score). This sweet soul had the most earnest look on her face as she told me that she felt it necessary to tell me that God had placed something on her heart for me. She said I have been given the words that you are a woman of great discernment, but you need to ask for courage to go along with that.
I was shaken to my core. She had no idea how desperately I needed to hear and believe that.
The weekend was a fabulous experience and very meaningful for me. I am ashamed to admit as I moved through the days further and further away from her words, I did not heed them. She did not know why she was the messenger, or even what the message was intended to address, but I did. I let the security and fortitude I felt at Holy Trinity slip away as time passed. Two months later I was able to embrace that Courage that was waiting for me, waiting for me to take hold.
Sister, thanks be to God for you and all those who work so selflessly for The Kingdom.

Fear of Flying, Sleepless Nights, and Golgotha

On a crisp November day in 2006 I lost my fear of flying. I was in a Lear Jet with my very sick husband, and we were heading to Raleigh-Durham, destination Duke University Medical School and the Preston Robert Tisch Brain Tumor Center. I had never before flown unmedicated. With a background in counseling I recognized the fear was not of actually "flying," but rather being out of control, not something I did well. I made a choice to abstain from the Xanax to be as alert as possible for Lucius and what lay ahead. My heart was pounding as we climbed into an aircraft much smaller than the commercial airliners I was accustomed to. The same heart that was also broken.
As we taxied down the runway I put The Newsboys, "In Wonder" on the iPod. My girls wanted me to listen to one of their favorite groups. Up until this time I was quite the musical snob where sacred music was concerned. I thought if it was more recent than say 1720, no way.
The plane lifted off the pavement and I watched the ground drop away. There was only awe.
And Wonder.

Last night I slept fitfully. My heart is always heavy during Lent, but even more than a Lenten solemnity was present last night. Sometimes when this happens I find guided imagery and meditation helpful. I was having a St. John Dark Night of the Soul. It has been going on for weeks. . . .Suddenly an image of Christ on the Cross came to mind. I was standing behind and slightly at a right angle. The tones were all sepia. I could hear wind and smell the dusty ground.
Sleep came, but hours later I awoke again and asked for peace and guidance. I saw feet as though they were my own, walking dusty, rocky soil. These weren't my feet, but I was seeing them from a perspective as if they were connected to me. I could hear many footsteps hitting the ground with heavy thuds.
There is no place I can travel to alone.

No place is so deep that God is not deeper still.
Romans 8:38-39

Peace,
Lisa

Starts, Stops, Pauses, and Begins Again

Hello Everyone,

I think I may have found my blogging nest. After trial and error, this seems to be the best fit. Please bear with me, as many of you know I have a very tiny left brain, vestigial even, but I am trying to exercise it to a place where it may be somewhat functional!

Writing has always been therapy for me, especially over the last few years. I hope there may be something of use to offer here.

Life has taken me down some roads I did not want to travel, but I am pressing forward. It's a journey, always. Life is inherently good.

Peace,
Lisa