Renewal

This was not my normal Monday morning ritual. In fact, I would venture to say that few women I know were beginning their week this way. Most of my friends and family are busy with kids and jobs (never mind the expense).  This kind of indulgence is reserved for vacations or a special occasion. But here I was, about to partake in the joyful luxuries uncovered at a day spa.  The catchphrase for bubble bath soap kept playing in my head, Calgon - take me away!

“What is it you are needing today?”  she asked in a whispered tone.

Prior to stepping into the lavender scented room, I felt anxious and self-conscious. But, it was time to surrender all misgivings as I undressed and wrapped myself in the white terry robe that had been laid out.

“What is it you are needing today?” she asked again, while placing a warm cloth over my face.

This question stirs my soul. Endless possibilities come quickly to mind – but I simply reply,   “Renewal”.   Her confusion confirmed that this response was not the customary – relaxation, deep tissue or anti-age treatment - she is used to hearing. She moved her head, cocking it slightly, resembling my dog, Shade, when unsure of a command.  At the same time her eyes seemed to squint, as if looking directly into the sun.  She considered the options: essential oils, lotions and potions, that would bring me to the state of renewal I desire.

My body craves repair and restoration, like a fine old piece of furniture found in an antique shop.  I am prime for the fixing – ready to shine.  But my response to her question came more from my inner yearning. 

The past months have left me – shall I say – in need of “Rebirth”.  Like any meaningful journey, adjustment and realignment is required to set me straight.  I have to let go of the fears that carry me off course.  Release my mind from the worries that weaken my faithfulness.  No easy task for anyone to achieve! 

This remarkable spa day and that simple question awakened my need for renewal.   There is much work ahead of me because conversion takes time. But I am so ready to feel better and so ready to further trust God’s plan.   No easy task… but the placement of that warm soft cloth on my face was a really good start!

Walking Shoes

I wrote this story in October 2015.  How vividly I recall the memory & details of those walking shoes
~~ 

I didn’t want todays writing prompt!   It came to me when I was pissed off and feeling sorry for myself.   As I’ve mentioned before - I am a person “of the light” feeling Hope, Grace and Love as remedies for all the things I must endure.   For the most part, God has gifted me with an unwavering faith.    But I do have moments when my resolve crumbles leaving my present attitude to truly suck!

It was the shoes in my closet that took me to this dark place. The object of my affection for so many years was sending me down a dark path.  The task at hand was to clean out my bedroom closet and go through the 50+ pairs taking up valuable floor space.  My love affair with boots, wedges, high heels, flip flops and leather flats was long gone.   Out of necessity (that is the need to walk), I have given up trying to be fashionable with my footwear.   Making this transition to practical / comfortable was a no brainer.  The hard part today was the actual removal and elimination of these beautiful pieces of me that no longer fit.

Sitting on the floor in my bedroom, I surround myself with boxes containing shoes in every shape, size and color.  Lifting open the covers, I find myself reminiscing about where each of these shoes, now lifeless and without purpose have taken me.  To the office, celebrations & parties, the gym, shopping, hiking & long walks.   I seem to have the words from a Dr. Seuss children’s book running through my head - “Oh, the places you have gone, the places you have been.”(Or something like that)

The shoes were more than just a reminder of days past – but a vivid depiction of where I will no longer be able to walk.   Looking at each of these right and left shoes thrown in a pile gave me some “closure”.  I allow myself to mourn the loss of these pretty articles but most importantly to let go of what is no longer mine.  It is the right time to clean house and move to yet another level of acceptance. 

Today’s clearing gives my new sensible shoes a place to call home, and at the same time the power to take me where I am meant to go.

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...” 

-Dr. Seuss

Intersection

Ken observes as his wife sits motionless in the kitchen. He knows her patterns and habits, perhaps better than she knows herself, and senses her somber mood.  Ken patiently leaves her to be, mindful that soon he will be called upon.   A warm and adoring embrace will give Chris the human touch of compassion she needs, but that will come only when she is ready.

 

The kitchen has always been her sanctuary, the cornerstone of their home.  Critical and trivial moments all have been shared around the reassuring middle island.  Chris sits on the leather stool at the counter needing a few moments of silence to just be still.  Waiting rooms & doctors, labs and blood tests, drugs and needles have set Chris on a course of despair.  A downward spiral has begun, with the depths of despair seemingly never ceasing.

Chris lifts her arm high as her fingers tightly curl, forming an angry fist. With eyes closed, she speaks out loud a simple prayer, Why? … I thought you had more for me to do?  She knows God is listening. She never doubts His presence in her life or His authority over her existence. But today, Chris is broken and beaten. 

Ken’s strong shoulders come to rescue and carry his wife through this storm.  Her prayer and question cutting through him.  He whispers encouragement; God isn’t finished with you yet! And through cleansing tears, they regain some strength. Both long to gain human understanding as to the meaning of suffering; both understanding that they will never have an answer.

******

A letter arrived a few days later, informing Chris of approval to begin a medical treatment in her home. Casting her net out – she chose a few members of her inner circle to keep her company. Chris explained to all that her week would involve 5-days of IV infusions.  The promise of this new medicine did little to ease her anxiety. 

Comfort and love poured in from those she had sought out. The nurse displayed kindness and Chris shared meals and meaningful conversation with friends. A warm tray of lasagna had been delivered, and in the mornings there was nothing quite like the contemplation and reflection that accompanied her sweet tea. Her bliss being interrupted by the concerned check in calls from friends and family alike. Chris’s kitchen counter became the place where science, technology, and faith sharing intersected.  The combination seemed to heal the weariness of her soul. 

Thursday morning brought Kara for a scheduled visit. Prior to arriving Kara asked God for words to offer Chris. Make me a vessel of your Peace.  And as only God could do, it appeared on Kara’s daily devotional message.  She could hardly contain her joy – for she knew it would be meaningful for Chris.   In the final moments of that visit, Kara spoke words that released the curl of an angry fist and replaced it with arms lifted high and open hands ready to receive God’s answer to her cry.

Remind her… she is loved. 

Remind her… how much you respect her.

Remind her… that she is a woman who has so much to offer.

 Remind her… she is valuable and she is enough.

Where science & faith come together

Liquid Gold

Last night I was determined to cook something from a recipe in an old magazine lying on my kitchen counter.  “30 meals in less than 30 minutes” boosted what little confidence I had in my culinary skills.  I tend to stay within the 8 or 9 meals I have mastered the art of preparing.  Outside the realm of these, I dare say my family has openly wept at the threat of me cooking from a recipe.

Years ago, I would blame the electric stove for the many cooking mishaps.  Then I moved onto the culprit being the pots and pans for so many of my failed attempts.  Maybe too much salt, not enough pepper? Well, the electric was replaced with gas and the cookware upgraded to the finest…. leaving little else but myself to blame for being a terrible chief.  Ken’s favorite one-liner, “It’s not the bow and arrow, but the Indian.”  Cooking has never been my strong point!

Beginning to review the ingredients needed, I take stock of a few items missing from my inventory.  What is a good substitute for honey?  Hmm, no Marsala wine.  Shallots, Tarragon, Chile Peppers, c’mon really?  Too much planning that I close the magazine and take a ½ hour nap, exhausted from merely concocting the meal.

With little time left to prep the gourmet banquet of my dreams, I decide that tonight we eat from the pantry!   Making my way through cans, mixes, noodles and sauces; emerges a tiny blue and yellow cardboard box.  I literally have to dust it off before spilling forth the contents of Liquid Gold (as the advertisement suggests).  Tonight we dine compliments of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese! 

I am not too proud admitting my love for this cheesy mess.  Guess my taste buds have never aged past that of a 10 year old. But it is cheap, easy and handy!  I’m just following doctor’s orders at a time when I can do little else.  Sometimes in the grand scheme of life – with all our planning, organizing and good intentions – a little compromise is good for the soul!

Living with a "chronic" illness has made me quite the Master of Compromise! My inner narrative used to say; compromising is a defeatist approach or accepting a lower standard.  That inner voice had to be silenced and replaced with another.  Concessions have to be made on a daily basis and go hand in hand with giving me a positive outlook on a very negative reality.  
                                         Amazon replaces the mall, 
                             Peapod delivers a tradeoff for grocery shopping, 
                              an energy boost coming from a scheduled nap, 
                          grabbing a ride instead of the independence of driving, 
                                 simple floor stretching exchanged for the gym, 
                                           early to bed & late to rise…. 

Devised strategies acceptable for making my life more manageable.

Tonight, the give and take of compromise tells me,  Hey not a bad deal, Chris!  That little box of processed, high sugar, high salt, zero nutritional value goodness will equip us for the bigger battles we have to face!

The unveiling of tonight’s dinner has Ken excitedly saying (in the voice of a 10-year-old), Is that Kraft Mac & Cheese?  Pure magic - Liquid Gold in a Bowl!   

Winter Grey

I am all but willing to hibernate in the gloom of these winter months, but deep within I yearn for brightness.  I savor the brilliance bestowed on the earth by the sun’s rays. The thought alone of sunshine catapults me from my dreary disposition.   

I peer out the window and observe the tender blanketing of snow forming.   Such beauty in the falling white flakes, beckoning me to join in its movement. 

But, I remain.

                                                             ~~~~~~~~~

Images are projected onto the large computer screen.  Grey and white fuzzy shapes are brought into focus.  Before my eyes materializes the inner workings of my spine and brain.

Hundreds of magnetic resolution images capture damaged parts deep within.  She points to three large areas casting a shadow and mumbles, Here is the part of the myelin sheath or nerve fiber which is damaged, nerve impulses traveling to and from the brain and spinal cord are distorted or interrupted, producing a wide variety of symptoms.   The damaged myelin forms scar tissue (sclerosis), which gives the disease its name.

I am well aware of the shadows name, which has been lurking inside of me for 8 years.  But now, for the first time I am looking directly at those grey areas, which cause my every weakness.

I stare in disbelief as she comments on the size, Yes, they are quite large but at least there are only three.  At least gives me little comfort.  

She changes from scan to scan causing the illusion of graceful movements running across the computer screen.  The healthy parts of me beckoning the damaged areas of my spine to join in the dancing.  

Unable to look away, I am crushed and silenced by the weight of the grey shadow before me.

But, I remain.

Pandora's Box

The family conversation has changed and sounds something like this:

Look at all the racially motivated killings by police...

Trump's victory is certainly bringing out fear in people...

Immigration policies must change...

Gun control, mass killings...

and then my son stating 

(so matter of fact)

I may not even want to bring children into this damaged world!  

I long for simpler days when our family discussion revolved around what everyone wanted to eat for dinner.

Sitting back I try to listen as they voice their opinions.  Before me are young adults who were raised with a moral compass pointing in the direction of love & mercy.  I've lead them this far, given them wings to fly so they can make a difference in this aching world.  No longer can I take their hands or shield their eyes from the many horrors lurking outside our family home.

It should be simple to let them think for themselves. But alas; it is not so!  I cannot contain my temper or hold my tongue.  Quickly jumping into the "Mother Hen" role when I do not agree or like the opinions they are expressing.  On the heels of my son admitting his wish to buy a gun, I lose it! Yelling like a looney, forcing my voice to be heard - I find myself strutting around in a fit of rage; hardly forming a coherent sentence.  Not sure what is worse, my yelling or my inability to clearly articulate where I stand on these very real situations.

Pandora's Box has been opened pouring forth all that is wrong with the world.

The bear has been poked and nobody appears surprised (almost like they were expecting my sudden Italian uproar)!   Laughter erupts, filling the brief lapse of any sound coming from my lips.  Ken and the kids work to control themselves aware that I am not ready to let it go and laugh...yet.

Later it comes to me, the words I wish I possessed at that moment to clarify my point.

The world can never be fixed.  But what we can do is Fix our eyes on what is right and what is just.  Then we will see only Hope in every tomorrow.

I am pleased with my ability to finally give voice to my feelings and begin to search for my son.  I'm excited to share and pass on these precious pearls of wisdom - but instead I am met by a young man who is concerned and asking what is most important to him at that very moment in time.  Mom, I'm starving - what's for dinner?"

So for now, Pandora's Box has been sealed again.