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
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
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
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
Thursday, May 6, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, March 29, 2010
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
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
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