there are no words .............

Vespa and Hunter waiting for a treat

The other day I wrote that I thought the ‘corner had turned’, but alas and alack – it has not – today (Wednesday) it made a sharp U-turn and now I’m back at square one.
The day is now over and I’m trying to make sense of it.

 6:30 this morning and I make an emergency call to the vet – Vespa is not well.
 And so I wait til someone gets here to help me get her into the car for the ride to the vet’s office.  It sucks being alone.

She can’t stand, can’t walk – legs shaking and totally disoriented … I leave her at the vet for treatment and observation – I can’t care for her in her condition – it has to improve or  ???

And so on the way home I lose it, which while driving is not a good idea.

But even more – Vespa was/is Glenn’s dog.  She was his sweetie -  and he hers.

She has what in human terms is something like vertigo – probably caused by a lesion/tumor/something on the brain. Not a good prognosis.  So a treatment of steroids to see if it will alleviate the symptoms and give her some quality of life.  I can only hope. 

But I’m already thinking the worst -1 year – 2 dogs, I husband, 1 friend, 1 other family member -  and countless deaths among families of colleagues - not to mention the anniversaries of those who have died in the past.  This month sucks. Big time.

But then there is this – dinner with a new friend who understands, she’s been there.  And a crackhead of a dog that won’t permit self pity!!

There is not enough wine in the world to make this right – or even tolerable.  Are all the days going to be like this? A turmoil of emotions and not knowing what to do?

Now it’s Friday – the vet is not calling me back – probably doesn’t want to give me bad news over the phone – and so I go to there.

The 3 days of treatments for Vespa have not helped, in fact she is getting a bit worse.  And so it is decision time.  It‘s time to say goodbye.

Fortunately a friend had offered to be with me – and so I called – ‘it’s time, please come.’    And he does.

A rag tag jumble of emotions in liquid form running down my face and myriad thoughts running through my head – ‘why isn’t Glenn here to help with this – but then, I’m glad he’s not - he would be even more of a basket case than I am I think - she was his sweetheart… his early morning companion – his walking buddy.’  And then this, ‘why does life have to be so hard?’ a rhetorical question of course – there is no answer.

But now – the quiet has gotten louder. It’s just me and Hunter – and while he does have a big personality – half of my family is now gone………

AND all of this on top of several September anniversaries of loved ones, human and canine dying. AND on top of the news that a colleague and friend died suddenly yesterday.

ENOUGH ALREADY!          STOP!!

And yes, I know the mantra, ‘if we didn’t love it wouldn’t hurt…’ but right now that is no help whatsoever.  In fact, I’m not sure what will help today – well, maybe puppy kisses and the comfort of a dog.

Because at this particular moment in time, that’s all I’ve got.

crumbs .................

I started this blog about 6 years ago as a way of reflecting on, and making observations about, (and trying to make sense of)  faith (mine), life, spirituality and the intersection of those ideas. I thought I had something to say and this seemed the best way to do it.  After a while I stopped, as I ran out of things to say. And then life threw me a curve and I felt the need to blog again – and so picked it up again about 3 months go…

When I started 6 years ago this is what I said as an introduction:

I am an ordained pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America.  My vocational callings have run the gamut from door to door encyclopedia salesperson to insurance broker to bartender to social worker to pastor.  I have traveled extensively and almost always find myself at the waters edge, on the water, in the water or flying over it.  Life isn’t just a journey, it’s a ‘trip’, where I stumble and fall, skin my knees and bruise my ego.  But it is also full of surprises, joys, disappointments and wonder.

The name of the blog was taken from what is assumed to be a comment from Martin Luther about how we are to live our lives.  Walking wet as in wet from the waters of our baptism – a reminder of how we Lutherans are to live each day – remembering whose we are and what we are about.  Children of God – living out our call to love one another.

Today something shifted in me, and maybe even turned a corner.

crumbs of life: creatingagreatday.com

I was at church this morning (good place to be!!), sitting in the first row of pews (good Lutheran that I am), in a congregation that I knew well.  And so I had a clear view of the giving and receiving of the sacrament of communion, something I usually don’t see from this vantage point. Communion was received by intinction, 2 orderly lines of people coming and going as we know how to do. As the presider was clearing the table, covering up the bread and wine, chalice and plate I noticed something.

First of all I noticed that not everything on the altar was covered - 2 chalices were left out from under the white cloth. 

 

And I noticed the crumbs. Crumbs on the floor – in stark relief against the dark red of the carpet – and everywhere - like the leaves in my backyard.  What a mess!

What a mess, indeed! A glorious mess!

And I couldn’t help but think.  Life is like that – messy. The bits and pieces of our daily lives scattered all over the place.  Bits and pieces of our lives uncovered, to be seen as only God can.

Think family dinner – Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas – any family gathering around the table and the meal. All have eaten now and conversation ebbs and flows, the leftovers languishing in the uncovered bowls and platters.  Maybe someone is even  nibbling on the leftover turkey leg. Wine is poured or coffee – laughter maybe, maybe something serious to consider – but a family gathered around table and meal. 

And if there are children? Children who have not yet mastered the art of silverware, or maybe it is Uncle John, old enough to forget the art of silverware – and so there are crumbs. Kinda like that 1^st birthday cake that the child dives into face first – hands grabbing frosting and maybe it gets to the mouth, maybe not.

You know what I’m talking about.

Crumbs – leftovers from a messy meal.

Crumbs – the results of a messy life. And life is messy – mine has been these last 3 months – and yours will to if it hasn’t already.  You know what I’m talking about.  Many of you have been there. Crumbs (or maybe the whole loaf) of despair, hurt, grief and mourning, anger, illness, sadness, frustration, and on and on………and maybe even crumbs of love and hope and faith.

Life is messy.  If you like orderly, this life is not for you. Just like with the giving and receiving of the bread and wine this morning, we do not do this thing called life alone. It is a communal affair, like that family dinner.

God calls us through the waters of our baptism to be a community, a family of faith.  God calls us to be in communion with one another. Communion – together -  with -  in union. And there was plenty of that this morning. And it felt good.

But what about the crumbs on that red carpet?  The women of the altar guild will clear and clean the table – the custodian will vacuum the carpet – willingly, all of them.  And the crumbs of our messy lives?  No - the dog will not get to these, ‘cuz God already has and will continue to do so.

God is there is the mess of our lives and s/he will vacuum up the crumbs. God will gather them up: and here is the kicker – make something new out of them, like scraps of pie dough.

‘Always being made new….’ Lutherans, remember??

God will take the crumbs of my grieving and mourning and do something with them – what I’m not yet sure -but I can wait. Don’t have much choice really.

The mourning is not over – not by a long shot – but at least I’m ok with leaving the crumbs on the floor.

So here’s to the surprises, joys, disappointments and wonder – and the crumbs………. 

Silence

I’m not sure why this is hitting me today – but it is. Have you ever wondered about why we humans talk, have conversation?   I’m not just talking about communicating that the enemy is behind you – apes and elephants and lions can do that.

No, I’m talking about face to face conversation about whatever is on your mind – or mine. 

It hit me today.  Today was a usual day – putzing around the house and in the yard, playing with the dogs, studying the pilot training handbook, dinner in front of the TV.  And I did talk to 2 people, other than store clerks (which for this don’t count). But neither short conversation was of any depth. Somewhat superficial – ‘thank you for doing…, please do this….’

And I realized that I miss it. Even Glenn’s innate ability to think out loud and drive me crazy – I miss it. And talking to Hunter and Vespa – ‘good boy or get down’ don’t quite cut it. And while talking to myself often results in a good answer – today it did not.

And, yes, coming from a true introvert, someone who does NOT relish casual small talk – I miss it.

It is way too quiet……this lack of conversation. Back in my pre-married single days – I’m not sure if I noticed… probably not because that was what I was used to. Not so much anymore.

I wrote an essay recently about silence – the silence that was deafening when I came home from that day at the hospital (you didn’t miss it, it’s not been posted). And the silence has continued… I must be getting acclimated to it but today I noticed it again.

Despite the train whistle from across the river or the cars on the road behind the forest of trees, or the squirrels chattering and forcing Hunter to bark, in spite of the noises of life all around me, it is not just quiet but silent. And yes, there is a difference.

Silent because there is no conversation. Silent because the energy in this place I call home is different. Silent because the voice of love and the voice of life is gone. And the sound of that silence is deafening today.

It is what we humans are known for – this talking to one another – in a way that no other species does as far as I  know. 

What to make of it? Nothing really, just an observation.

The silence of being one – like one hand clapping……….

"The Sound of One Hand Clapping' by Dobie
Album cover 

Puppy Kisses

Vespa - the Queen, and Hunter - the Crackhead posing for a treat. 

Ok, so buckle your belt – this one will take a while and it’s gonna be bumpy. You can get off now, if you’d rather.

I just turned off the news with the hyper-reporting of the devastation in Mexico and Puerto Rico – hurricanes and earthquakes galore. Hundreds dead and no end in sight.

I have a real problem with the hyper-vigilant reporting. This is not a new movie debuting – this is disaster. Can we calm it down a bit? We really do not need to sell more newspapers, thank you very much. There is sorrow in the world – always has been - and will be for a long long time. This should not be about ratings – but truthful and calm reporting? What a novel idea.

And then there is Hunter, missing his human as only a dog can after 2 ½ days gone -  he is in my face and lap and has been for the past few hours.

And I say to him – 'thank God you are a dog – you don’t know about the tragedy and disaster in the world.  You have 2 hots and a cot and that’s all you care about (well maybe a walk or 2 )'  – the grace of God indeed.  And he responds by cleaning my face.

But anyway, I digress… earlier this afternoon I came home from a 2 ½ day conference for leaders in my synod – a yearly coming together of clergy, some with spouses, other church leaders, to learn, to enjoy fellowship, to share meals together, to revel in the grace of God.  And we did.  We listened to a well-known resource on biblical preaching – and a well-known church musician – and it was all good.  (Where have you heard that before?)

The music, I think, was what got me.  Yes, the keynote speaker was excellent – but I’m not preaching now and so I was listening with 3/4 of an ear.

But the music.  Churchy hymns, most unknown to me, some folk music. But as music will do, something opened up in me that I didn’t know was closed. One of the hymns/songs that I heard ( I don’t know which it was, but yes there is a difference) had the words ‘father and mother ‘in it.   And I lost it. Actually I was on the verge of losing it for the entire 2 ½ days.  Tears behind the damn of my eye lids. And while I knew I was in a safe place (why else would I be here?), it’s not pretty to ‘lose it’ in public.

So I tried to be discreet, but did not go unnoticed. My colleagues knew that my husband had died suddenly 3 months prior – we keep each other informed, that’s what we do.  And so there were hugs with no words – (yes, that’s good), and questions – ‘how are you?’ meant with sincerity and waiting for an honest response – which they got in spades. (Probably to their chagrin!). And that was good as well.

But amidst the hymns proclaiming God’s grace, God’s love, no matter what, God’s abiding, Jesus abiding in us; amidst the emotional words that all hymns have,  somewhere were the words ‘father and mother.’

And it was all I could do to stay sane. My parents have been gone for a long while.  My mother – 17 years, my father 27.

Long enough to ‘get over it’ one would say.

But no.           NO.                   Not this day.

It’s been years since I have remembered them with intense emotion. But not so yesterday.
 I miss my mother. And, yes, even my father.  If Glenn had died before my mother did, we could have commiserated together – talked about the hurt and pain – but it was not to be. And stoic that my father was, even he might have been a help.

But they are no longer here – and so I can only imagine what they might say or do.

And yesterday and today  I miss them in a way that I haven’t for many years. Like a kid with a bruised knee, a child in the throes of chicken pox, a teen in angst over a betrayal, a boyfriend leaving you for another. Mothers are supposed to be there when you need them.That‘s what Mothers do!!!!!!!!

 Right??  MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Try as I might, there is no glass of wine large enough, no box of Kleenex soft enough, no bed with covers deep enough, or bedrooms dark enough to make this better.  They are both by my side, the wind and the Kleenex,  but even adding Hunters kisses to the mix it is not enough.

And that’s the rub – I don’t know what is enough to dull the pain, the physical-emotional pain.  Don’t be fooled, folks, it is physical. Should I even try? How the hell do I know?

Today was another day of chest hurt and hard to breath. And so I didn’t – sing that is. You can’t sing when your chest hurts, there is no breath, you can’t see through the monsoon of tears, and your emotions are that untamed mustang dodging the halter.

 I knew this would be a bumpy ride – and it hasn’t let up.

And yet a wise woman asked me,’ So what gives you life now?’ And I had to be honest:  friends, family and colleagues that truly care and there are more of these that I even knew existed. But they are not there in the dark of the night or the early mist of the morning.   I can’t yet go to the God thing.  If She were to stand in front of me I not even sure what I would do – or say. So the sigh too deep for words is all I’ve got. For now.  That has to be good enough - 'cuz it's all I've got.

Yet even as I make these emotions tangible by putting them in 3D, putting these words somewhere, I still can’t quite make sense of it.  I guess all I can do is try to ride it out- like they are in Puerto Rico and Cuba and Mexico and the Caribbean  - ride out the hurricane and the earthquake and the resulting disorder.

I told you this would be bumpy – and I wasn’t kidding… but, once again,  there is not a damned thing I can do about it.

38 years and 9 months

Our wedding candle,  Sept. 16, 1978

I’ve been trying to forget what today is… but I can’t.  I’m no longer marking the days on the calendar - and so I don’t know exactly how many days it has been since THAT DAY. But 3 months and counting.

And  yet try as I might, this day keeps rearing is nostalgic head.  And after 38 years of celebrating, what should I expect?

We would have been married 39 years today.  Just that statement says a lot.  And buried within it – a cave full of emotions that I can’t even begin to name.

Are their regrets? Of course.  But in the big scheme of things – 4 decades worth if I count the ‘dating’ years - it was a good run – and Glenn would have agreed – in fact he often said so. We made it work -both of us – together. Overcoming the difficult and the awful – and celebrating the good and joyful.

So what do I do with this? I guess just remember, count my blessings because some don’t get this far.

And two shall become one – is now one again.  Remember? Marriage ends in either divorce – or death. It is inevitable.  But I feel like half – not half a person – but half a couple - like my right arm is gone/not functioning, as if it were broken.  Living alone now is like buttoning my shirt with my left hand – awkward.  Can I do it? Sure, but it takes twice as long…

Will I adjust? Get used to it? I suppose.  Do I have a choice? Well, yes I do… but I also remember our long conversations, the ‘what if’ conversations, the ‘what will you do when I am gone…’ conversations.

And so the best I can do is honor those long talks.  And yet at the same time I remember with both sadness and joy the life we had together… and try to have the life he would have wanted for me. 

Sitting with my coffee this morning, this is what hit me as I was reading about today’s 16^th anniversary of 9/11:

My sister died in September 29 years ago

My sister in law died in September 16 years ago

My Uncle died in September 15 years ago

Rocky, my dog died in September 1 year ago

And tomorrow will mark 3 months that Glenn has been gone.

Another family member died 2 months ago

We would have celebrated 39 years of marriage this month

And yet – this time last year we were in South Africa on one of the best trips we had ever taken -  celebrating 38 years of marriage on Safari… it doesn’t get better than that…

No wonder I feel out of kilter….

And yet, I know that there are millions who have experienced much more devastation and loss than that.  I have my house and all of my ‘stuff’, I have my health, I have family, I am not going hungry (far from it!), I have friends that I can rely on. I have my pups. I really do have a lot to be thankful for – and I am – and yet…

The sadness overwhelmed me this morning.  In fact, I almost cancelled my flying lesson – not sure if I could concentrate enough ( and yes, that is a requirement for staying aloft..... ) – I almost got back under the covers never to be seen again…

But I didn’t. I guess I figured that if I gave up now, I’d just set the stage for more of the same – and nothing would be accomplished…. The sadness will never go away – it will always be a part of me and I must accept that. 3 months of being alone means he really will never walk through the door again. It’s not just a bad dream. This is the reality of my life now – and for many days to come.

free google image  - yup that's me!! 

They say that the mourning process will begin in its own time – and I think it is finally hitting home.  I’ve shed a lot of tears this month – but at least I can breathe – so I guess that’s progress.  It is, right?

It is now evening – and the air is a pinkish golden color – not a bit of wind- perfectly still are the trees… I heard a plane fly overhead a while ago – like the one I was in this morning… small like a bird… amazing that the air will hold it aloft…...the pups are quiet for a change – no more chasing squirrels ‘cuz they are hunkerin’ down for the night…

 And so I relax, it’s been a long day. Memories of days and years  past, emotions running a muck, the challenge of a new thing, trying to learn something totally foreign to normal human existence (flying!, really??)

Can the human heart handle all of this? Well, I guess it must, because we do – all of us – we do – every day and then some. 

hurricane

Day 89 – not a particularly significant number – but getting there. (It’ll be 3 months in 3 days).  And I don’t even know where to begin about today….  

Sadness has over whelmed me today – every so often in the middle of something mundane – watering the trees… planting flowers... changing a lightbulb (that was his job!), playing ball with Hunter… getting the mail… lunch…. Is Hunter in my lap because he can sense my mood or does he want my lunch? Probably both, but lunch might win.

Tears at the back of my eyes – not ready to fall - but there nonetheless…. On and off throughout the day – even out in public – I CANNOT LOSE IT IN PUBLIC….

Sadness – like the waves threatening Florida – fierce, destructive, overwhelming, of the kind you can’t prepare for….

I think I know what set it off.  Yesterday.

I did 2 somethings altogether new – started flying lessons. (This is a bucket list item.) I was actually in the plane for the first time learning how to handle, maneuver, keep aloft, not crash or drop out of the sky.  Exhilarating at best, nerve wracking at worst. But I did it. 

And then attending a play with a friend – something that Glenn and I did together every summer.  But the worst part? Not having him here to share any of this with - he isn’t here anymore – silent – his physical presence quieted…… forever.  I came home from the flying lesson and the play to a quiet house – not a home anymore – just a house.  And of course the dogs don’t get it – so they were no help.

 Free Google image

So I am beyond sad.  I guess this is what they call mourning – the roller coaster of emotions, unbidden, a surprise at the most inopportune times.

What do I do?  Ride the waves, I guess, what else can I do?

A week from today it will be what would have been our 39^th wedding anniversary.  I can’t even imagine what that day will feel like…. A hurricane of immense proportions – like Andrew, Harvey, Irma, Jose, Katrina all in one. Prepare? Impossible.      

    

And yet – this is all after the other day when I had resolved to not be pessimistic -  to be positive – to think about the future and not the past – to put it behind me and move forward….

So much for forward. 

But the ‘can’t breathe’ starts again and the pain in my heart starts again – so move forward? Not today……….

laughter .......

Christmas 2016, Hunter and  Vespa behaving for a change. 

So – in spite of the rather pessimistic postings of late – (and there have been a few !) – it is not all gloom and doom. around here. Animals are amazing creatures – and my two are no different. 

Some of you have met them.  First there is Vespa – the Queen of the pack.  Eighty plus in people years.  Once upon a time, she chased, caught and killed a squirrel – no small feat for a dog. But she was FAST… about 150 yards or so and she got it. But not anymore – and we have squirrels in abundance all over the deck – but she is non-plussed – been there done that, wrote the postcard and the book…!!

Not so Hunter, my  Drama King…five in dog years I think… and so late teens early twenties? Still short of being responsible (think sophomore somewhere?) He thinks he can get the squirrel – but no – they are smarter than he is. And quicker. 

And then there are the bees – and he thinks that they will make a yummy snack – but alas and alack, no. But the antics are funny...............

And he thinks he can climb trees- or tries anyway – THERE IS A SQUIRREL UP THERE AND I HAVE TO GET IT!!

They too, are quicker than he is... but he is ever vigilant, and will keep trying. And then there is this – we are napping, he is laying on top of me -but then SQUIRREL ALERT in the backyard – how he know this from deep inside the house I have no idea – but bounding off the bed he goes – and, yes, BARK, BARK, BARK, BARK,  AND THERE GOES MY NAP….

And then… the snuggles… he is always trying to get in my lap … remorse for wrong doing and too much barking? Maybe.  But in all fairness, he does recognize my moods in a way that Introvert Vespa does not – at least not in an obvious way.

Do dogs grieve? I think so – we know that elephants do – so why not dogs? I’m sure Vespa notices the difference, Hunter not so much, he wasn’t with us that long and he has issues of his own.

But anyway, the cartoon continues in the backyard and I have to laugh – even when I don’t feel like it.  I know Glenn would be laughing…delighted with their antics, and I am as well.  

Laughter - it is good for the soul. And God said - It is good. and very good.

  

Dinner

It’s day 81. September 1, the beginning of a new season. (The calendar keeps track for me.) And now, this day, at this time, like the 80 before me, it is ‘dinner time’.  We always ate a 5:30, (I have no idea why), and yet somehow, I manage to keep this tradition… habits die hard…although I try to stretch it out to at least 6:00.

But whatever, how many of you like to eat dinner alone? I’m guessing not many.  But I do now every night, with the exception of invitations out, which are welcome.

And because I like to cook – I do. Tonight was grilled salmon and couscous. However, in spite of the fact that Glenn would not eat couscous, rice is preferable, he would eat salmon.

But regardless, I am eating alone, the TV blaring in the background, alone at the dining table so I can watch the blaring.  Not what we used to do, but it will suffice, because it is all that I have. 

But I hate it.  The pups are not much help – they have their own routine. And I try to keep it, for their sake, they are creatures of habit after all. And I am to a point – but this dinning alone sucks.

But so do many things that I have to do alone.  I had to take Vespa to the vet today, a real challenge as she won’t just jump into the car, she needs serious assistance. She is old, 14 dog years, 80+ human years and I want to make sure she is not in pain.  And as I wait for the vet to come into the room – I cry. Why do I have to do this by myself?  This is a 2 person job – me and him – together – not me alone.

This is just one more thing on the long list of ‘things’  that I now have to do by myself - alone.   Can I? Of course.  Do I want to? You bet your bippy I don’t.

But it is not what I want – but what I must.

And it sucks, to be blunt.

Especially, but not entirely, eating alone.  Eating, Biblically, is communal. Breaking bread together, sharing a meal, feeding each other in need, coming together in community – even if it is just 2. Where 2 or 3 are gathered, there am I, says He,  I can’t think of a single Biblical story where someone eats alone ------------if there is, please let me know.  So as a ‘1’, is He here?  Am I ‘gathered together ‘as a ‘one’, gathered into what? 

And so eating alone is a challenge - lunch at McDonald's or some other fast food emporium it is ok – we all do it.   But at home alone? Not so much…… and so I push away my plate – as good as it tastes is it is not enough,  eating alone is not what God intended. I don’t think……….

But then the pups are here – so I guess I’m not really alone after all – kinda like if the pups are with you, you are not drinking alone?

But bottom line… a dog face in mine is not the same as a Glenn retort, a funny that really isn’t, a joke the falls flat, a song lyric that hits it, a comfortable embrace that signals the end of the evening…….

 It just isn’t the same… and there is not a damned thing  I can do about it.