Ringing Phone

The humming from my cell phone startles me.  The doctor’s name clearly displayed, takes away any of the mystery found in a ringing phone.  I pause and take a deep breath, then release the extra air caught in my lungs before pressing the answer button.  Days have slowly moved to weeks then crawled to months of waiting for this very call.

I want to answer with a cheerful greeting, “Good evening Dr. K and thank you for calling”.   I want my voice to conceal the angst I am feeling in the pit of my stomach.   There is a sour taste of bile in my mouth now overshadowing the seasonal pumpkin latte I was enjoying.

My dreams have been invaded with the waiting of this call.  Some nights offering me comfort as the conversation moves us to a new treatment option for a cure.  Other nights, which are more frequent, I wake in a cold sweat learning the fate of my remaining life.  Upon lying down each night, I am at the mercy of my imagination to set the stage for my dreaming.

I have yet to press the green button to accept the incoming call.  I lack the courage to receive what waits being heard.  My energy drained and spirit defeated before even hearing her voice.  The ringing has stopped causing my heartbeat to be the only vibration left.  

With the phone now silent a blinking light suddenly appears indicating a message has been left for my hearing.  I wonder only in that moment what the scenario of this evenings dream will be?

Eye Has Not Seen

When he brought over all the paraphernalia, I didn’t know whether to be really angry or really sad.  My father-in-law meant well, thinking only about my well being.  I would have none of that “stuff” in the house.  It was banished to the garage in that “out of sight, out of mind” place.  Really, did he think these things were essential and that someday I would need them?  Did he see something miraculous and healing that I just wasn’t seeing? 

All the anger I felt came from my pride and all the sadness from my fear.

Pride has a way of distorting your vision.  The idea that we can control our destiny and plan our fate is an arrogant notion.  I have spent the better part of my prayer life “Giving it to God” & “Letting Go”.  But yet, I felt I had some authority and command over my ability to walk without the use of any aids (which were now piling high).  I saw each of these things as a spotlight telling the world that I had a “problem”.  It took away my ability to fake my symptoms and be normal.  I could no longer pick and choose who knew that something “was not right with this lady”.  Damn, that cane and walker! 

Pride and Vanity blinded me from what really needed to be seen.

Worse than pride, was the feeling of sadness.  By the action of my father-in-law bringing these “gifts” to me, he was accepting a fate I was yet to embrace.   He was planning for a future I could not see for myself.  Every glance at the wheelchair and scooter, made my heart sink deeper into my chest.

That was my sorrow twisting the reality of what was before me.

And then the AMEN moment came.   I needed the wheelchair to take me a very long distance.  Cursing and swearing under my breath, embarrassed and hating every moment of this spectacle. I arrived at the place I needed to be with the help of the damn wheelchair!   But leaving would be a different story …

I felt the urge to walk, needing to stretch my legs.  Feeling strong I began the long walk back to the car – holding on and pushing the wheelchair.  With each step forward, my vision seemed less narrow and more focused.   I was on the “Road to Emmaus” and could now clearly see the space between me and my appointed destination, accomplished only with a walking aid.  I grabbed the handles a little tighter and seemed to walk faster.  Stronger with each step – I arrived but forever changed. Gone from view was seeing my disabilities and limitations magnified by my need for these aids.  With a new set of eyes, I saw what I could accomplish and the strength I gained leaning on that which I had cursed.  

With the help of my trusty cane and chariot (walker) - I do not have to stumble and fear falling.  The wheelchair will bring me to places I have yet to travel and the scooter will allow me to get there in great style!  Gone was my pride, gone was my sadness – replaced with new possibilities found in these walking aids, which were proving to be quite miraculous!

Lesser of Two Evils

When my son was growing up he delighted in a game I liked to call - The lesser of Two Evils.  “Would you rather be a passenger in an airplane about to crash or in a car driving off a bridge?” Would you rather be shot in the back or with an arrow through the heart?” “Would you rather be held down in the deep end of the pool or stranded in the middle of the ocean with sharks.” He could and would continue for hours!

My daughters would simply disregard his annoying and menacing questions choosing instead to shake their heads and ignore him (the price for not having a brother to share in the fun).  Ken played along, but after a while begged for mercy from his disturbing imagination.  I often found myself taking a few calculated minutes of thought, to pick the lesser of these evils.  Most times I cried out for him to stop, realizing this game was both ridiculous and quite alarming.

Was I raising a monster or an inquisitive child?  Looking back now, this little game would offer a valuable life lesson.  For our lives include choices of free will, journeys of our own making and paths laid out with little or no option.  Questions beginning “would you rather…” could help us through the many cross roads we stumble upon.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was a few summers past,  at our annual “family reunion”.   Standing in a circle with our feet in the sand at the shoreline – 3 cousins shared stories of those “struggles” in their lives.  Carol spoke first, “it is a form of leukemia that must be monitored.  So many blood tests and frightening symptoms come with this diagnosis but I am hopeful to remain in remission”.  Cousin Christine spoke next of the terrible day she heard the word cancer. “The doctors gave me little choice. What followed was the fear and uncertainty before and after undergoing a double mastectomy and the months of recover”.  My turn to share and out poured my story of Multiple Sclerosis, “The beginning days were very dark from not knowing and then the definitive MRI image sentencing me to a life with a chronic, debilitating disease”.  We stood together, listening attentively; understanding beyond the words spoken out loud.  There in the middle of this circle was “not two but three evils”.   

We finished sharing and looked out into the water.  Silence allowing us to go deeper into our own thoughts.  And then I asked, “Would you rather have a deadly blood disease or  cancerous cells growing in your breast or an illness attacking your immune system?"  This was no longer a game.  But in that moment, we laughed and came to understand that if we had to choose – we would keep our ‘evil” for it seemed the lesser.

There is a wonderful quote that comes to mind when I think back on what I learned within that circle….

If you lined up all the troubles in the world and threw them into the ocean –
you would go back in to get your own.


* a special thanks to my cousins for being part of this story

Our Time

As the weekend approaches, the fact that our time is our own catches me off guard.  Years ago Ken would say, “Someday we will no longer be running to softball, football, school events & activities”.   I could barely fathom that notion, as we went in different directions chauffeuring three kids to their appointed destinations.  Many times feeling overwhelmed by not having a single day of the weekend to relax without someone’s schedule demanding our attention.

Today at 54, I sit poolside on a beautiful Saturday afternoon and wonder what the day will hold.  Stretched before me are hours of freedom having nowhere special to be.  The calendar is empty of any markings indicating obligations. The day belongs to us and in that moment we are like newlyweds again – without the worries and responsibilities associated with people our age.

My mind races with exciting ideas and suddenly I am dreaming about hiking the trails at Caumsett Park, or a stroll on the boardwalk at Jones Beach, an afternoon journey to NYC for a show, or perhaps a simple bike ride around the neighborhood.   The wonder and excitement is limitless as I sit with my feet dangling in the pool, dreaming.

But I am only capable of fantasizing when physical activities are involved.  These damn MS symptoms have put a damper on so many adventures imaginable.  They simply are no longer possible and daydreaming leaves me feeling cheated.  How did we get to this season in our lives and why is it filled with such difficulties?

After more then 35 years of knowing one another, Ken seems to read my mind.  He sits beside me and takes my hand.  “So, what does my bride want to do today?”  I do not share the dreams filling my thoughts or allude to the sorrow in my heart.  Instead I lean my head upon his shoulder and say, “Anything honey, as long as I’ve got your hand in mine” 

Whip Cream & Cherry

“A chalice, which is a goblet-shaped wine glass, has long been a symbol of the Christian church. It symbolizes the vessel from which Jesus Christ drank with his disciples during the Last Supper. It is also viewed as a symbol of Christ's power to redeem humankind.”   

I like to keep my theology simple and usually see God’s grace through the ordinary stuff in life.  After reading the definition of a chalice and understanding its symbolism - the image of our lives as a Deluxe Ice Cream Sundae comes into view.  Each scoop of delicious, creamy, sweet ice cream added to our empty cups are but moments in time when we have accomplished great feats….

It is like “build your own Sundae” – filling your chalice with scoops of love, self sacrifice, good will, acts of mercy and the list (like flavors) continues without end!  The only thing missing from what you have created by your works and deeds is the whip cream and cherry.  Who doesn’t like this finishing touch on any Ice Cream Sundae? 

The whip cream and cherry are the instants in our lives when we pause and do nothing but lift our hearts up to God.  It is when we pray, acknowledge, gives thanks and share fellowship in church with other believers.  It is added to our chalice when we give the Glory found in each Scoop of the Sundae to God.  

So many people experience the joy of an Ice Cream Sundae overflowing with a lifetime of goodness.  But missing is the one final and perfect ingredient - that comes from being more then just a good soul.  It is the topping to any life, given not by the merit of our actions but in our trust and belief in a Loving and Almighty God. 

My prayer today – Loving Father, add another scoop of “Rocky Road” to my chalice and if it please you Lord – a double shot of Whip Cream with two cherries!

Sweet Music

The metal chairs have all been unfolded and arranged in a wide semi circle.

As each member of the orchestra files into the rows of chairs, he or she sits

down in sections of instruments grouped together. Although one singular

orchestra, the musicians are reminded of their individuality as they peer at

the other players and instruments present; each radically different from their

own.  And yet, in a few short minutes these eclectic instruments will create

beautiful, sweet music together.

This unity or shift from a room of musicians to an orchestra is brought about

by the almighty conductor; the iconic woman standing at the podium in a

long-tailed black and white suit waving a baton at little prodigies.

Although at no point during the performance does the conductor actually play

an instrument, without her present the orchestra would cease to exist.

With my hands clutching a small imaginary baton, I feel a sense of power and excitement.    At my command a symphony lies waiting to be composed with a melody waiting to be heard.   The players are all assembled eager to please.  I am perched high on the podium, self conscious and wary of my ability to bring this song to life. 

I am ready to let go and give in, releasing myself from any feelings of despair.  In return for this release, I gain confidence in my capacity to create a masterpiece.  I am the conductor and responsible for all that follows from the movement of my baton.

Every morning when I arise I am faced with the reality of my circumstances; but I understand that my job is not for the light-hearted. And I understand that the show must always go on, no matter how I feel.  I channel my longing to pickup and play these instruments before me.  They are within my grasp but better suited for those treasured “players” in my life who gladly, lovingly and joyfully carry the weight of each note.  I am but the catalyst to bring this symphony to a swelling crescendo.

And so, I begin to direct - unifying the performers, setting the tempo, listening attentively, correcting critically and shaping the sound of the ensemble.  I make adjustments, work out interpretations and relay my vision for the score. 

Each guiding stroke moves us wondrously closer to a newly 

constructed rendition of a timeless classic.

*special thanks to Aileen for her contribution to this piece