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.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
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
Saturday, March 27, 2010
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
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
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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
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
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