Dorothy Had It Right

.....there's no place like home.

I spent a wonderful weekend with a friend of 22 years (why does that make me feel so old?)

I went to a conference and came home affirmed and supported and encouraged in my role as wife and mother.

I came home to a clean house--laundry done, bathroom cleaned (some of you heard about how disgusting my toilet was!!), the mudroom straightened, the kitchen/family room picked up, and a couple of little cards placed about the house for me to find. My boys came running and squealing to the back door when I walked in and gave me some big hugs. AND there was homemade apple pie and hotwings in the oven--Mmmmmmm! It made for a wonderful homecoming. I felt very loved.....and so did my husband! :)

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Today is Respect Life Sunday. On my way home, I went through a small town. The streets and the corners were lined with people standing silently, holding signs that said, "Abortion kills babies." Several had their eyes closed and their lips were moving in prayer. I couldn't help give them a thumbs-up sign and make the sign of the cross as I drove by them to show them I was united to them in prayer.

I was so proud of my brothers and sisters and their stance against something so horrible.

May God have mercy on our country. And on the innocent babies who die every day.

The Headless Chicken Dance

(Warning--you may interpret the imagery in the next paragraphs as graphic. Do not tell the animal rights people.)

Life whizzes by so fast sometimes. We all run around like chickens with their heads cut off. We all know the saying. Have any of you ever seen a chicken do that? I have.

After they are decapitated they go running willy nilly in any random direction and sometimes bounce off an obstacle. Their legs go fast and their wings flap until eventually (it doesn't take long) they fall over onto their side and lay there flapping and quivering until the quivering slows and ceases altogether.

Now picture about 50 chickens like that (for the record, I've not seen that!). I think it's a good description of our society.

I know I was made for a purpose. I know most times I have direction and my eyes fixed on eternity. But some days I just feel like a chicken whose head was suddenly removed. I feel like I'm at high speed running from or towards I-don't-know-what because my eyes in my head are laying on the ground and not attached to my body. And everyone around me is doing the same.

And we bounce off each other, say "hi" and "blurti-blurt-blurt" in a moment of quick impact before we crash into the next body. Eventually we fall over. I've not fallen over yet. But I want to. So here's the next thought.....

Part of me wishes I could fall over to get out of the random crazy blind chicken dance. But part of me feels if I do, I will be forgotten and replaced. And no one else in the midst of their chicken dance would even notice that Chris Chicken is not running around with them or bumping into them any more. I feel I'm easily replaced by a new bumper chicken. (At least maybe the new bumper chicken will have bigger breasts. Ahem.)

Sigh. Sing with me everyone.....(making chicken beak movements with your hands and flapping wings with your elbows. It's a Wisconsin wedding custom, doncha know!)....."nah-nah nah-nah nah-nah nah......"

A Glimpse at Why I Love My Job

A room in the back corner of a basement of a physicians clinic. Computers on tables with lots of wires lining the four walls of the room. Four long banquet tables pushed together 2x2 to make a rectangle in the center of the room. Sixteen clinicians sitting around the table, each with a laptop in front of them. Wires connecting the laptops to the wall--to electricity and to networks. Papers scattered on the table. The click click click of keyboard keys, various musical rings of cellphones, and an occasional overhead page. The confused delay in the conversation over the speakerphone connecting clinicians 40 miles away.

The report of how recently bereaved families are doing. The silent recitation of recent deaths. Discussion case-by-case of the 33 hospice patients the team I'm part of--Team 3--is responsible for. Concern about cares, or lack thereof, being delivered by caregivers. Problem-solving about something new ("anyone have any ideas?") that may take care of nausea not touched by any other med thus far. Other options for treating anxiety since the patient is allergic to the usual first line of treatment. Sharing of information learned at a recent conference about a new way to address a dry tickle cough in chronic COPD patients. Concern about a family's coping and the constant tears they shed. Rejoicing over a recent reconciliation of a patient to an estranged family member. Brainstorming about a patient and family not wanting to engage in any conversation about disease process or decline, despite the decline occurring. Pointing out a patient's estrangement from their faith background to keep an ear out lest there is increased anxiety/fear nearer to death. This person needs a volunteer to assist with attending a last-time fishing trip. That person needs a CNA to assist with her laundry.

We have to record this, sign that, document, document, document. But we play "the game" because it allows us to be present with families as their loved ones die. To make them more comfortable. So they don't feel alone. To answer their questions and teach them what to do.

To be present in the sacredness of the grieving of others heretofore strangers, but strangers no more.

Resolutions I relate to

I've said I'm reading a book called "The Secret Diary of Elisabeth Leseur". Her heart so resonates with mine, and I thought today's post would be the section from her diary I read this morning. This is a bit long, so I apologize, as I've been trying to keep my posts short and sweet. This is more for my benefit, as much of it about loving others hit home to me today.

My resolutions: to love despite the disappointment, rejection, and misunderstandings. To keep my heart soft.

Here's her entry from October 7, 1905:

"Firmer resolution to have deep inner stability, and to accept as a trial that does not touch the depths this assault of troubles, agitations, and confusions that, to be sure, have their cause in my health, and also the painful disappointments caused by certain persons. To love those who have betrayed my confidence and made me suffer, or at least to pardon them fully. Not to assign to others my own faults, but to accept the humiliation of having given my confidence too quickly and of having committed these faults. For the future, without discouragement or bitterness, to practice great prudence in regard to work and new connections, and in all things to observe the greatest moderation. To give myself to everyone in charity, but not to let everyone enter into my heart, which I must not open too lightly. To welcome an affection only when I have solidly proved its value, and yet to have kindness for all. Never to compromise with ideas and principles, and yet to be full of indulgence for those who differ most widely from me in their point of view. To maintain, by prayer and daily effort, integrity of will and moral energy in spite of the oppression and failure caused by ill-health. It was, I think, Bichat who said, 'The soul makes its body.' And when God dwells in the soul, how shall it not be stronger than the very evil that acts upon its body and sometimes overwhelms it?"

Why It Matters

We all need to remind ourselves of the epic story of the God of the universe and his love for us. Sometimes we forget, you know? Well, I don't forget, really. Just sometimes the storyline ends up more like background music in my life rather than a crescendo.

This song by Sara Groves always reminds me of that. And our need to tell each other the story. Over and over. Put your poet hats on. I'll try to change the music playing in my blog for a couple of days so you can appreciate it fully, too.

"Why It Matters"

Sit with me and tell me once again of the story that's been told us,
Of the power that will hold us,
Of the beauty, of the beauty.....
Why it matters.

Speak to me until I understand why our thinking and creating,
And why our efforts of narrating about the beauty, of the beauty.....
Why it matters.

Like a statue in the park of this war-torn town,
And it's protest of the darkness and this chaos all around,
With its beauty.....
How it matters, how it matters.

Show me a love that never fails--
Some compassion and attention
Midst confusion and dissension--
Like small ramparts for the soul.....
How it matters.

Like a single cup of water.....
How it matters.

Stranger Encounters

2 strangers today.

The first one I thought of off and on all day. I prayed for his day. I prayed for his family. I wondered about who he is and where he lives and what is his story. I slowed down in town today to go around a utility truck. And as I passed, he shot me a glance and a smile through the windshield--not a glance that made me uncomfortable. More a glance like, "Well good morning, ma'am. Have a nice day." So what in tarnation is so exceptional about that, you ask? I'm right there with you. I'm not really sure why he lifted my mood. Maybe because in our culture of cubicles and 15-minute time slots and cell phones and e-mails (and blogs!) and running hither tither far and yon, we've forgotten the common courtesy and personal touch of eye contact with strangers--other human beings going about their day as we do ours.

The second one made me stand straighter. I went shopping for new running shoes. I sorta mumbled with some embarrassment to the owner of the store about my running injury when he asked about my running particularities. Ten minutes later a lithe, blonde woman older than me marched in standing tall and anounced loudly that she needed new running shoes because she's training for a marathon and "I have injuries here and here" (pointing to her arch and her hamstrings.) She wore her injuries with pride. Like they were her battle wounds. Like they were part of her. Part of her story.

I limped out standing taller.

Ok. I guess I'm a bit syrupy today.

"Intentional Presence"

At mass tonight, Fr. Dave was talking about how God is an intentional presence in our lives. And it got me to thinking about all of the other "intentional presences" in my life. And am I an intentional presence in others' lives??

I confided in a chaplain coworker of mine 14 years ago as a new hospice social worker that I didn't feel like I was making a difference in any of the lives of the patients I had seen. I felt awkward at times, didn't know what to do, or what to say to make it better. Not only did he remind me that we cannot take others' pain from them, he said, "never underestimate the power of your presence." Hmmm. I often return to that advice when I cannot see the impact of my life on others' lives.

Be an intentional presence.

I DID IT!!!!

I've entered the blogging world. This template makes it easy, but it took me three days and the assistance of my b-i-l Dave (thanks, Dave!) to figure out how to embed music. I love this song. Read about why I chose it on the left.

I've been thinking a lot today about how God leads us through life. I have a friend whose life has changed course today, and you can see God's hand all over her exciting new adventure!

But it's that way for all of us though, isn't it? At times I feel insignificant. I mean, there are billions of people in this world, who knows how many in heaven, and yet I'm to believe the God of the universe is the lover of my soul and cares about me? It's mind boggling. I can't grasp it. Yet I know, should I die someday unknown and forgotten, or leaving a lasting legacy, I will have been in the spot He made for me to be in.