Change is in the air ...

I can smell the change in the air – sharp – crisp – the harbinger of rain - of course, the rain – actually a very fine mist – just enough to make the sidewalk glisten…for now.

 And I can hear the thunder off in the distance – it’s only a matter of time before the storm comes………..

The weather person had been chattering incessantly for what seemed like hours before I finally turned her off – enough already - stop with the talking head charade - you made your point – there’s a storm coming so stay inside!!

I love storms like the one that’s on its way – it makes me feel comforted somehow.  I don’t get upset when Mother Nature gets her panties in a bunch – I don’t get upset at the chaos and the dis-array of the stormy weather. Maybe because I used to think it was the angels bowling…  That doesn’t explain the rain – but hey – I’m only 6, I can’t think of everything!!

Maybe it helps me to know that my storms aren’t the only ones - I know we all have them – some with more thunder than others. My brother-in-law’s sister-in-law (figure that one out, but still extended family) died Wednesday – there’s another storm threatening a family.  Mother, aunt, grandmother, wife, friend, co-worker. Rest in peace, they say - and I hope she will and her family too.

 

As I sit here pounding away on the keyboard, I can still hear the thunder in the background, even with the house all closed up for the sake of the pups… although it’s not working very well, the drugs haven’t kicked in yet.

But I love storms.  I love to watch them – whether they take their time or hurry through – it ‘s comforting somehow...

But my storm?  Cue in Billie Holiday, which Glenn could do without looking it up…

Don't know why there's no sun up in the sky
Stormy weather
Since my man and I ain't together
Keeps rainin' all the time
Life is bare, gloom and misery everywhere
Stormy weather
Just can't get my poor self together
I'm weary all the time, the time
So weary all the time

When he went away the blues walked in and met me
If he stays away old rockin' chair will get me
All I do is pray the Lord above will let me walk in the sun once more
Can't go on, every thing I had is gone
Stormy weather
Since my man and I ain't together
Keeps rainin' all the time
Keeps rainin' all the time

When he went away the blues walked in and met me
If he stays away old rockin' chair will get me
All I do is pray the Lord above will let me walk in the sun once more
Can't go on, every thing I had is gone
Stormy weather
Since my man and I ain't together,
Keeps rainin' all the time
Keeps rainin' all the time

But still, I’m comforted, I’m not the only one – I’m not alone - at least not tonight.   

Alive............

I’m on the deck, the pups ever vigilant, well at least Vespa is – that’s her job. Hunter wants to sit in my lap - he knows my moods better than I do. It’s hot, sticky, muggy, the air is still, clouds rolling in for the storm that is sure to come, but I’m tired of being inside. 

And from where I sit I can’t help but see the flowers that Glenn planted, in the container he picked out.  These Daisies were planted sometime in May, and at first didn’t do well, maybe too much water, I don’t know. But since he’s been gone, they have thrived… blooming, perky heads lifting their faces to the sun, leaves bright and crisp…perfect ...and alive.

Seriously?  Really? Why now?  I suppose, why not?  At least I remember…and I suppose that’s something…….when they die back in the fall part of me will die again I’m sure of it…

never again.............

I’m sure you’ve seen them… photos of a very aged couple, hair beyond gray, veined and knobby hands, in separate beds, holding hands and drifting off to never never land together – or at least within minutes… may be hours, but soon enough.

And it does happen… he died first – he’d been sick for awhile, she died 6 weeks later. It rocked the congregation – but as many said -she died of a broken heart.  It happened with my first 2 dogs as well.  Blackie died of cancer, Sherlock – a broken heart 6 weeks later.

A recent article in Christian Century brought this all home…(Joyce Ann Mercer, July 5, 2017). And while she talked about the physical, the limitations of older bodies and the dependence versus interdependence that is a struggle with older adults, her writings about the elderly got me to thinking…

I will never know what it is like to spend time in matching rocking chairs enjoying the day, holding hands.  I will never know the delight of seeing my sweetie at breakfast or feel his breath on my face with that morning kiss. I will never hold his hand again, because he insisted, no matter what (he was the romantic, the sentimental one).

 I will never again feel the almost mundaneness of that nightly kiss- no matter what. I will never again know the joy and/or frustration of whatever he did or didn’t do. 

Of course I can remember, but it’s not the same... it’s 36 days out and I can’t remember the sound of his voice …

Never again will I have to answer his question –‘yes, dear, it matches…’  yes, dear,  you can wear that together..’ or ‘yes, dear, those are blue socks…’. 

Never again will I say …’yes, I’ll be home in time for dinner… what do you want to eat?’

Never again will he take me out to dinner, or buy me a hot dog to eat at the river…

Never again will he say – ‘so what do you want to do today?

Never again…

Never again…

Never. Again. 

Rivers

I had dinner with a friend the other night – and we were taking a trip back in time, remembering ‘the good ole’ days’ back in our misspent young adulthood.  He and his band mates practiced in our basement – and Glenn and I would always be there at their various gigs – regardless of how seedy the venue! And on the way home, I was thinking (that’s scary!) about this whole ‘life is a journey’ idea.  And I came to the conclusion that this cliché – and it is an overdone one – needs a refresher.

And so I was thinking…

I’m thinking it is more like a river.  Glenn loved rivers – even just sitting on the banks watching the water flow  southward – and whatever was floating on it… On the Hennepin Canal, quietly paddling in our canoe, on the Rock River it would be geese, pelicans, ducks, a jumping fish now and again.  On the Mississippi – the tangle of barges and tugs making their way to a port somewhere far away…  ( Ok, cue in Samuel Clemens about now…)

And so I was thinking…

A journey often means traveling to a destination – a planned trip and one with a known end. And life can be like that – our ‘end’ is always death. But life is more than just an ending. Rivers generally don’t just end- they usually flow into yet another body of water. And so they continue on, albeit in another form.

Rivers flow thru valleys, under cliffs, over cliffs dropping inches or hundreds of feet. Water crashing as it goes.  If you have ever seen Niagara Falls or Victoria Falls in Africa – you know the majesty of water falls…and the danger...

Rivers often out run their banks… flowing sometimes endlessly where they shouldn’t be, indiscriminate, with a voracious hunger devouring everything in it path.

Rivers can be soothing – a great place to swim if the current isn’t too strong – and yet they can be dangerous – flooding out homes and leaving dead and injured behind.

And so I was thinking…

Isn’t life kinda like that?  Our Christian/Lutheran faith teaches us that while the body may die, it will be resurrected and there will be eternal life. But however you make sense of that, when we die our form changes.  The body changes – we become spirit, maybe? Whatever happens, we are no longer the same. But we do continue to live on in the memories of those still alive – maybe in a legacy of some sort – and, as I’ve been told, as long as someone remembers, that person lives on.  And I believe that. I have to.

In this life we too flow through the valleys and under cliffs.  The low spots – those valleys of death where we sometimes crash and burn and then there are the mountain top experiences that revive our souls. Or maybe just an uplifting prayer spoken on our behalf………..

And then there are the times we out run our banks, take on more than we can handle, say yes to often, no, not enough. We stretch ourselves thin – often through our own doing but often not.  Like when the death of a loved one,  life partner, a spouse, a best friend, smacks you in the face – draws you out of your ‘banks,’ out of your limits of endurance, out of yourself and into another place.

And like any great flood, it takes time to retreat and retract back into place.

And, just like that river that oversteps its bounds, in life, that place is not the same as before. Maybe good, maybe bad, maybe ragged around the edges; different nonetheless.

And there are times when life is soothing – when all is well with my soul – when the sun is always shining and it only rains gently at night…when the ravages of life are far away and love reigns.

But life is dangerous, too. Despair and grief and sorrow, anger and longing; emotions roiling like that #7 rapids that is almost impossible to navigate. Life is dangerous. As Annie Dillard one wrote, we should all be wearing crash helmets.

And unlike that river that doesn’t just end, life does. Our physical life anyway. So maybe it is a journey after all… one that we all take, no one is exempt, we all are traveling to that known end. All life ends in death. But life is more than just an ending - more than the death that is inevitable. The rivers of our lives flow on endlessly.... I believe that. I have to.

466

Do we ever think, when we/you are first getting married,  or in partnership, or committed relationship, or however you define your relationship, what this will really mean? Of course not – love is in the air – and everywhere – and you look onto into another eyes.  The longing for the physical, the intimacy of touch and just being together – conversation, dreams and hopes – you know what I’m talking about – most of you anyway.

But then reality sets in – the bills, the day-to-day experiences of living together – you get mad – he gets frustrated – you yell or remain silent. It happens -  we’re human after all – not perfect.

And so it is.

But then something happens – a tragedy – a major disappointment – the death of a mutual loved one…. it happens – we are human after all… and it brings you together again.

I always tell new couples getting ready to be married that marriage is about having each other’s back – it is not about living face to face.  That’s fine for the bedroom – but not the reality of life together.  If you don’t have his/her back – who will?  It’s about being partners – together in this journey we call life, living daily back to back and side by side. None of us can do it alone, at least not very well. We all need someone. (cue in Barbara Streisand!)

Were there times when I wasn’t there for him? I’m sure… and visa versa…. But in the big picture – the long run, he was and so was I. We are human after all…

I think marriage is like flipping pancakes  - it’s all perfect and bubbly on Monday – but burnt to a crisp on Friday…  but we slog thru it and with enough (real) maple syrup (and yes that means love), we muddle  our way through.

On the 16^th of each month we celebrated our month-a-versary.  Today would have been 466 months together (you can do the math!) – 466 of months of marital bliss (well, at least most of the time!!!??).  And yes – we gave each other a card – or at the very least a kiss and a  verbal – ‘hey – happy month-a- versary, I love you…!......and we did – and I still do….

’

Is it God’s will that he died?  I don’t believe that. We live in a broken world and unexpected, too soon death happens - to many of us. But as M. Craig Barnes so eloquently put it in his article in the Christian Century, all marriages will end ….. either death or divorce.

Figure out for yourself which is the ‘better’ ending………….

Let's talk..

Bastile Day, July 14, 2011, Briare Canal and the Lore River, France. A celebration.

As a 15/16 year old teen, I wanted to be a writer.  I thought I had something to say.  And I did to my private journal- for quite awhile, actually.   Then I became a pastor and I had to write often – once a month for the newsletter and also once a week – it’s called a sermon, and various and sundry bits and pieces along the way. And then I started a blog because I thought I had something to say – and for awhile I did.  I really didn’t matter if anyone read it– it was for me. I couldn’t not write what was on my mind.

 And so here I am again.  There is something about putting your thoughts on paper (or screen, same difference).  It does help to clarify – to discern – to  figure it out – when life throws you a curve ball that you cannot catch.

I just learned that a member of my extended family is now on hospice. My brothers-in-law’s sister in-law (?). Anyway, family nonetheless.

Cancer – of course. This will make 3 heart wrenching, unexpected, difficult life events in as many months.

And you know what? We, as a society, and more importantly as a CHURCH, do not do enough to prepare.  We simply do not talk about this – except in outlandish theological words that are, for the everyday, meaningless.

I know we teach and presume to believe in the resurrection of the body – it happened to Jesus and we presume it will happen to us someday – somewhere.  But what does that have to do with today – with the now of my husband’s death? Or the death of a good friend that did not necessarily believe in this theological ‘stuff’? Or the other pastor’s wife who maybe did? What about that?  
What consolation is there for the now?

I don’t know…for me, here and now, not much.

I have preached at funerals, because I do believe it, that our memories of our loved one, our sharing stories and jokes and life events of our loved one is, in part,  what we mean by eternal life.  ( I’m not sure what the other part is..).  That as long as there is a memory of that person, s/he lives.  After that? I have no clue… and guess what – no one else does either…………..

But what can we do now to help with this dilemma that everyone faces and no one is prepared for?
Let’s talk about death – let’s talk about what we think and believe – let’s talk about what we might want for ourselves – let’s talk about it.   Let’s take away the stigma  of death – it is a part of life – we know it will happen to all of us. It is inevitable. Period. No one escapes. Let’s make death dignified, let’s celebrate the life (and yes, we sorta do this at funerals), but let’s not wait til it’s too late.  I wonder if other cultures (read primitive, cuz they are not sophisticated like us) have a better grip on this. Many understand the ebb and flow of life as a continuum, one stage just naturally follows another.

And so – to echo Joan Rivers – can we talk? I’m ready – are you?

Change

Change – you know that old Lutheran (or fill in the blank) joke about change – ‘we don’t do it…’ ‘Oh yes you do ..’– or you will at some point....whether you like it or don’t.

Glenn started a project a while back – no big deal – just cleaning the deck. Except he didn’t finish it. But that was HIS job – I have my own to do list thank you very much.

And so now I have 2 to-do lists – mine and mine = change.

I did laundry the other day – how pathetic – I could put all of the dirty clothes in the machine – each batch would have been too small – no more ‘laundry day’,  now it is ‘laundry hour…’ = change.

Grocery shopping  - I only need 2 of those reusable bags instead of 6 or 7…and not very often at that…= change.

My time is all my own now – no one to answer to at home – no need to be there, if I can, when he gets home from work – no need = change.

Taking the dogs to the park was a 2 person job, as Vespa can’t get in the car by herself – and I can’t lift her – and so we don’t go, at least not the 3 of us …= change.

When I leave the house, I have to be doubly sure that all the doors are at least closed, the garage door down.  

There is no one to remind me – and so if the dogs get loose?  I don’t even want to go there… = change.

Every day presents a new challenge – a new change.  And it’s not that I can’t do these things – but many I haven’t had to for – 38 years….= change.

And so when the toilet needs repair – or the backyard fountain that Glenn loved, goes on the blink - or I can’t unhook the sprinkler from the hose, cuz it’s on too tight, I have to stop and think – ‘ok now what?’  And calling for him won’t help one little bit….= change.

Even when we had our ‘what if’ conversations, these mundane things never came up.  And why would they? You think about the important things -  finances, the advance directives and the will, maybe you even talk about how to file a  Social  Security claim – or what to do with the life insurance - but you certainly don’t talk about what to do when the toilet needs repair- or your laundry day is now an hour…or how to reset the coffee maker – because he took care of that too…= change.

I think I read somewhere that it takes 3 weeks to change a habit.  Well, I disagree -it will take … I don’t know how long it will take.  How do you undo 38 years of habits? How do you undo your life? It’s not like untying a shoe lace – and then retying it – I only have one shoe lace to work with now… = change.

There is a huge disconnect here – and frankly I’m not sure when the re-connect will happen… = change. It’s hard – and I’m tired of it already.

One Month - 30 Days

One month – 30 days. Days when time has stood still – infinite, unmoving. Dead. And days when they slam together so fast it feels like kids out of control in bumper cars.  That week is now a blur .. I don’t remember anymore who all came to the visitation or the funeral –(I know I can always look at the guest book, that’s not the point). I don’t remember the sound of his voice. What did we do all day when we were home together?

I can, however, still recall the fear of that early morning, my heart beating so fast I couldn’t breathe. My hands shaking so, it took several tries to dial 911. Times a wastin’, Vicki, pull it together…

One month – 30 days. We’ve never been apart more than 4-5 days , not counting various and sundry hospital stays – at least we could still visit….

One month – 30 days. A lifetime and yet it is gone in a blink… What have I been doing?  The necessary things – walk the dogs, feed them, of course.  Requisite phone calls to settle affairs. Feed myself – read the mail – the usual. Projects that seem to take on immense importance – but a month ago I wouldn’t even have thought about them.

I’ve often preached about chronic busyness and how we need to rest – to take that sabbath time… I should listen to my own preaching – but I can’t, at least not yet.  It‘s too hard to sit still and just be – time’s a wastin’, Vicki, pull it together.

But of course I do - once in awhile. Late afternoons on the porch in the swing that is mine when I’m in it and his when he was in it. Time passes, moves along without me, I look up and an hour has disappeared… where did it go? Notice the shift in verb tense? I do…

Where does time go when it is gone? Is it stored someplace ‘out there.’ We can’t ever get it back, right – so where does it go? Is it the opposite of matter or energy – just ‘not’ anymore? Like a soap bubble – just gone?

One month – 30 days. A lot of time to reflect - to remember, to wonder – why?  Why now?  And to wonder – what’s next?

It was different when my mother died (and my sister, too, but that’s for another time…)

My mother passed away in the spring of 2000, a different kind of stroke – and 8 weeks to get acclimated to the fact that she would be gone soon. That summer we vacationed along the Gulf coast - in a little town called Pass Christian.  Our lodging was across the street from the water, with the requisite sandy beach, sea shells and driftwood tossed round as if by a child in a tantrum. One night I was feeling particularly vulnerable, deep in grief and sorrow, really unable to do anything about it.  And so I left Glenn in the room and walked along the beach by myself – at one point even walking into the water as if to keep going.  I didn’t, obviously, keep going, and eventually Glenn joined me.   But as I walked along the beach I found a sailboat that someone had made out of popsicle sticks, complete with sail and rigging.  Whoever had made this had done a fantastic job of it – then left it there.  But I kept it.  For the longest time it sat on my dresser as a reminder of that dark night, a reminder that grief can hurt so much that you simply don’t know what to do. There is no Band Aid for this one.

Well, I happened to find it the other day – hidden in a closet (kinda like Calvin had stuffed Hobbs away in a closet oh so long ago).

It is now on the mantle over the fireplace – along side Glenn….. The irony that it is a sailboat is not lost on me – Glenn loved sailing, being on the water – would have had a sailboat if only he knew how to sail!

And I remember – that with the passage of time, I did come out of that dark place, the sun did shine the next day – we did have a great time there, eating buckets of peel- it- yourself shrimp and lobster po’ boys……..

I’m not sure ‘time heals’ even though that is what ‘they’ often say..

Maybe time allows scabs to form, but they remain. 

The wound is always there, a part of you. Maybe it even becomes a faint scar that only you can see, but remain it does – for always. It is more than just a wrinkle in time – more like the kind of gash that needs stitches.

One month – 30 days. And so, in spite of my heart feeling like Swiss cheese, in spite of numbness some days and overwhelming sadness at other times, in spite of emotions I can't even identify, I know that in time the sun will shine again. I will probably eat peel-it-yourself shrimp again and maybe even a lobster po’boy. But still…time…where does it go?

Identity

'They' say gender identity is fluid – so I’m thinking identity in general is fluid.  We start out as a child – boy or girl or somewhere in between.  Then maybe a sibling is born and now you are a brother or sister – and then maybe there are cousins.  Then maybe, probably, you make friends - the kid down the street -at school – and maybe you get to keep them for a long while.

And then maybe you have a boyfriend or girlfriend – a romantic relationship - and then maybe you get married – so now you are a spouse, a partner.  And then maybe you have a child – so now you are a parent.  And then maybe a grandparent – or an aunt or uncle.  And somewhere along the way you also became an employee – maybe an important one., maybe even a boss or supervisor.

Each one of these additions to our lives  changes who we are – our daily experiences change who we are.  We are never the same today that we were yesterday…

And then things start to change  - again.  Maybe it starts with one or both parents – they die – because that’s what happens in old age – in life.  Maybe they had a long life, maybe not, but either way, now you are an orphan.   Grandparents die, sometimes children do to.  And as you get older, friends start to pass away – and before you know it your spouse, partner, friend takes his or her last breath – and now you are alone. 

The subtractions change us as well.

And so now I am someone different than I was a month ago. And so I wonder - Who am I now?  There is a new word to describe me - widow - but what does that really mean? How does one live into this new description  that wasn’t asked for, not anticipated, at least not yet, I’m way too young for this..

And so I wonder - who am I now? And how do I even begin to figure this out? 

A conversation with a friend got this little fiery rant going…..

Please Don’t …

….Presume to know how I feel because you don’t.  We all experience grief and sorrow differently – and my experience is not yours.

Please Don’t….

….tell me he is a better place. A better place is still by my side. Period.

Please Don’t…

…tell me God needed another angel. NO. S/HE. DOES. NOT. Gabriel and Michael and the cherubim and seraphim are doing just fine with the staff and work load that they have.  They do not need any more help.                                                                     

Please Don’t…

… refer to our deceased loved ones as lost.  They are not lost.  I know exactly where he is – on the mantle over the fireplace – and in my heart.  We might be lost – and often are - but they are not.

Please Don’t…

…tell me God called him home. We have a God that values life  (or at least so I believe), values  relationship, values the joy and love we share with and in each other. Home and heaven is right here, on this earth, not some golden city in the sky.

Please Don’t…

…tell me God needed him.  God needed him to do the work he was called to do here – not there, wherever there is.  What can he do ‘there’ that will benefit those still ‘here’ in any way? Beats me.

Please Don’t…

…tell me his work was finished – it’s all part of God’s plan.  I’m not buying it.  We live in a sinful and broken world.  Illness and dis-ease, war and turmoil permeate our world. There is discord everywhere. Shit happens.  And a death too soon, a life taken … why? I don’t know.    

However…………Please Do…

…Share stories about him, with me and with others who knew him and even those who did not.  Those stories will keep him alive – and as long as there are memories, he lives on still…

Please Do…

…was he kind to you? Then pay it forward and be kind to someone in need of kindness – or just because.  Did he help you with a problem or dilemma? Pay it forward and do the same for someone else. Did he encourage you in some way? Then pay it forward and do the same for someone who could use it – and who among us doesn’t need it now and then? Did he laugh with you? Even when you didn’t want to? Pay it forward…

Please Do…

….Grieve in your own way.  You who are his friends (and family, too) are feeling his absence as well., albeit differently than I am.

Please Do…

…remember that I do not believe we have a God that arbitrarily yanks people of their lives just because God can.   I do not believe in a God that is a puppet master, pulling our strings just because.  Dictators do that – not a God who is loving and merciful and slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.…

…Please Do…

…Just be my friend, be you. Hold me in prayer because I can’t.

Please…………….