“Well, there’ll be no more chemo,” she said to me, and the flat tone of her voice gave away the rest of the news. “The doctor says six months to a year,” she added. Honestly, I couldn’t take it in at first.
“Six months to a year for what?” I stupidly asked. “For life,” she replied. “Wait," I said desperately, "I’m not following you. Six months to a year before the cancer becomes a problem again, or…?" and my voice trailed off. “No. Six months to a year is all I have,” she said quietly. And just like that, my mother is in her final journey.
The tumors on the pancreas did not respond to the five months of chemo. Instead, they grew a tiny bit. According to the doctor, this is a slow-growing cancer and that's why he estimates six months to a year.
I still can hardly take it in.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Some musings for this morning
"Always be humble, gentle, and patient, accepting each other in love. You are joined together with peace through the Spirit, so make every effort to continue together in this way." Ephesians 4:2-3 (NCV)
Ironically, this Scripture came to my attention at the same time that I was watching a TV show about setting healthy boundaries to keep you safe from toxic people. I should say here that the people on the show had some good ideas (and good Scripture to back up what they were saying about fear and gossip). But it was kind of ironic that the Scripture placed in front of me by my computer was actually about getting along in peace through the Spirit.
The reason this verse really struck me this morning is because there has been some strife in a certain quarter of our lives (mine and my husband's, that is, and from external sources). And maybe, just maybe, we are seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. And that light really is NOT a train but truly is some kind of peace. We continue to pray.
And the other reason that verse struck me is because of how it ties into my recent ah ha! moment about forgiveness, about deferring justice to God. That, I think, is part of the key of getting along in the Spirit.
Just my 2 cents for today.
Ironically, this Scripture came to my attention at the same time that I was watching a TV show about setting healthy boundaries to keep you safe from toxic people. I should say here that the people on the show had some good ideas (and good Scripture to back up what they were saying about fear and gossip). But it was kind of ironic that the Scripture placed in front of me by my computer was actually about getting along in peace through the Spirit.
The reason this verse really struck me this morning is because there has been some strife in a certain quarter of our lives (mine and my husband's, that is, and from external sources). And maybe, just maybe, we are seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. And that light really is NOT a train but truly is some kind of peace. We continue to pray.
And the other reason that verse struck me is because of how it ties into my recent ah ha! moment about forgiveness, about deferring justice to God. That, I think, is part of the key of getting along in the Spirit.
Just my 2 cents for today.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Coming apart at the seams
Actually, it's not all that dire. I'm just so exhausted that I can't keep my head up much longer. I got exactly two hours of sleep last night, for reasons still unknown to me. I simply was awake most of the night. And then I spent ALL day cutting fabric and sewing.
Our church looked like a sweatshop today, honestly. Six sewing machines set up on six folding tables, with six people sewing plus two people cutting fabric (it took us 4 hours to cut everything), one person pinning the fabric in preparation for the sewing, and one (one-armed) guy catering lunch to the hungry workers.
We're preparing the structure for our Good Friday prayer walk, and my husband dreamed up a series of movable room dividers that would be hung with drapery. Lovely. Except he's not the one doing the sewing! We have to complete 75 of these panels.
So, this morning we set out the M&Ms (very practical when you're sewing since they melt in your mouth and not in your hands), made a pot of coffee, and snacked on homemade peach coffee cake. I made Tim bring us a yummy lunch from Costco, and then he came back later in the day to help us put everything away.
This was, in essence, a modern day "sewing bee," and we had a blast. I think we laughed all day and I would definitely do it again just for the fun of it. We certainly got to know each other better, and that's always good in the church community. Plus, I'm a novice sewer, and I had many patient and willing mentors to help me today.
I learned a lot today - and not just how to sew a straight seam.
Our church looked like a sweatshop today, honestly. Six sewing machines set up on six folding tables, with six people sewing plus two people cutting fabric (it took us 4 hours to cut everything), one person pinning the fabric in preparation for the sewing, and one (one-armed) guy catering lunch to the hungry workers.
We're preparing the structure for our Good Friday prayer walk, and my husband dreamed up a series of movable room dividers that would be hung with drapery. Lovely. Except he's not the one doing the sewing! We have to complete 75 of these panels.
So, this morning we set out the M&Ms (very practical when you're sewing since they melt in your mouth and not in your hands), made a pot of coffee, and snacked on homemade peach coffee cake. I made Tim bring us a yummy lunch from Costco, and then he came back later in the day to help us put everything away.
This was, in essence, a modern day "sewing bee," and we had a blast. I think we laughed all day and I would definitely do it again just for the fun of it. We certainly got to know each other better, and that's always good in the church community. Plus, I'm a novice sewer, and I had many patient and willing mentors to help me today.
I learned a lot today - and not just how to sew a straight seam.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Thoughts on Forgiveness
I’m listening right now to Amy Grant singing that she believes in “simple things… the miracle of forgiving.”
I don’t know about the rest of you, but there are one or two situations in my life where it really will take a miracle for me to forgive -- and it is in no way simple. In these particular situations, the people apparently never stop trying to find ways to do harm, always on the lookout for a way to trap someone – they don’t do it just to me, because I see them doing it to others, too. It seems to be their modus operandi.
It’s said that hurting people hurt people. And that’s true. But that doesn’t make things any easier when you’re on the receiving end of someone’s vile and venom. And you know that, deep down and despite their protestations to the contrary, they intended it to hurt.
I’ve struggled to forgive them over and over again. No sooner do I think that I’ve managed to give it over to God then I find that I’ve taken it back again. Why? Because. I. Want. Justice. And I want it now, where I can see it and feel the glory of it.
Counter-productive, I know.
And definitely not how God would have His daughter (that’s me) behaving.
I’ve started reading a book called What to do on the worst day of your life, written by Pastor Brian Zahnd. I’m not recommending this as a replacement for Scripture, of course. (Nothing replaces Scripture.) And I don’t agree with everything Zahnd surmises. BUT, he did point out something very important that I’d not thought about. And it’s this:
Forgiveness is not the “abdication of justice. Instead, forgiveness involves deferring justice to God.” (page 26 of Zahnd’s book).
This is another ah-ha! moment in my spiritual journey. Because that means I don’t have to feel it. I just have to do it. It’s an objective thing and isn’t based on what I’m feeling. In fact, any lingering hurt feelings will be a whole separate issue to take up with God. The main thing is to defer justice to God. I can’t bring those people to justice anyway – so it's useless to keep worrying over the situation. Better to just to get on with it. Then, if there are still hurt feelings – well, I’ll process those feelings with God as many times as it takes for them to leave. At least I will know that justice will be appropriately served – in God’s time and by God’s choice and His means, not mine.
This is a struggle of many years that I think just might be coming, if not to a close then at least to a better place. What a relief! And no, my forgiving them – deferring justice to God -- probably won’t stop those people who deliberately hurt others, but it does open up the place where I can stay close to the Lord in the midst of the storm.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but there are one or two situations in my life where it really will take a miracle for me to forgive -- and it is in no way simple. In these particular situations, the people apparently never stop trying to find ways to do harm, always on the lookout for a way to trap someone – they don’t do it just to me, because I see them doing it to others, too. It seems to be their modus operandi.
It’s said that hurting people hurt people. And that’s true. But that doesn’t make things any easier when you’re on the receiving end of someone’s vile and venom. And you know that, deep down and despite their protestations to the contrary, they intended it to hurt.
I’ve struggled to forgive them over and over again. No sooner do I think that I’ve managed to give it over to God then I find that I’ve taken it back again. Why? Because. I. Want. Justice. And I want it now, where I can see it and feel the glory of it.
Counter-productive, I know.
And definitely not how God would have His daughter (that’s me) behaving.
I’ve started reading a book called What to do on the worst day of your life, written by Pastor Brian Zahnd. I’m not recommending this as a replacement for Scripture, of course. (Nothing replaces Scripture.) And I don’t agree with everything Zahnd surmises. BUT, he did point out something very important that I’d not thought about. And it’s this:
Forgiveness is not the “abdication of justice. Instead, forgiveness involves deferring justice to God.” (page 26 of Zahnd’s book).
This is another ah-ha! moment in my spiritual journey. Because that means I don’t have to feel it. I just have to do it. It’s an objective thing and isn’t based on what I’m feeling. In fact, any lingering hurt feelings will be a whole separate issue to take up with God. The main thing is to defer justice to God. I can’t bring those people to justice anyway – so it's useless to keep worrying over the situation. Better to just to get on with it. Then, if there are still hurt feelings – well, I’ll process those feelings with God as many times as it takes for them to leave. At least I will know that justice will be appropriately served – in God’s time and by God’s choice and His means, not mine.
This is a struggle of many years that I think just might be coming, if not to a close then at least to a better place. What a relief! And no, my forgiving them – deferring justice to God -- probably won’t stop those people who deliberately hurt others, but it does open up the place where I can stay close to the Lord in the midst of the storm.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
More family history
I've been digging into my family history lately. I find family research fascinating -- I did quite a lot of it in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Back then I had to trek to the National Archives or the State Archives or wherever else I could find historical records. Nowadays we have ancestry.com, which has done a lot of the legwork (not all -- I still have some treks I'll need to make).
I haven't found any nuts on the family tree, but I did find one stunningly beautiful young woman: my great-grandmother, Luella (for whom my mother was named). This picture fascinates me. The intensity of her eyes and the intelligence in her face make me want to sit down and have a conversation with her.
I never knew my great-grandmother, but she and my mother were very close throughout my mother's childhood (Mom was 18 when the elder Luella died suddenly of a heart attack at age 78). Great-grandmother Luella lived with her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren in the city of Newark; she helped to raise her grandchildren, and that's one reason she and my mother, the baby of the family, were so close. Each summer she would take all the grandchildren to stay with her at the old family farm out in "the country" (the hills of northwest New Jersey). My mother and her sisters still talk about those summers, where they played freely in the woods and meadows for almost three solid months every year.
I recently asked my mother to tell me what her grandmother had been like as a person. My mother surprised me completely with her reaction to my question. She smiled and looked far away for a moment, and then she said, "She was a very special person." And that's all she would say. I tried probing, but to no avail. The smile remained on Mom's face but she just wouldn't or couldn't say anything more. Clearly the deep bond she felt with her grandmother has not diminished in 50 years.
This is my great-grandmother, Luella, in what I think was probably 1898 or 1899. She would have been about 28 or 29 years old then, and it's no wonder my great-grandfather fell in love with her.
I haven't found any nuts on the family tree, but I did find one stunningly beautiful young woman: my great-grandmother, Luella (for whom my mother was named). This picture fascinates me. The intensity of her eyes and the intelligence in her face make me want to sit down and have a conversation with her.
I never knew my great-grandmother, but she and my mother were very close throughout my mother's childhood (Mom was 18 when the elder Luella died suddenly of a heart attack at age 78). Great-grandmother Luella lived with her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren in the city of Newark; she helped to raise her grandchildren, and that's one reason she and my mother, the baby of the family, were so close. Each summer she would take all the grandchildren to stay with her at the old family farm out in "the country" (the hills of northwest New Jersey). My mother and her sisters still talk about those summers, where they played freely in the woods and meadows for almost three solid months every year.
I recently asked my mother to tell me what her grandmother had been like as a person. My mother surprised me completely with her reaction to my question. She smiled and looked far away for a moment, and then she said, "She was a very special person." And that's all she would say. I tried probing, but to no avail. The smile remained on Mom's face but she just wouldn't or couldn't say anything more. Clearly the deep bond she felt with her grandmother has not diminished in 50 years.
This is my great-grandmother, Luella, in what I think was probably 1898 or 1899. She would have been about 28 or 29 years old then, and it's no wonder my great-grandfather fell in love with her.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
A new blog to follow
The Totally Together Journal blog is new from my favorite CrockPot365 blogger, Stephanie. She finished her full year of using her Crockpot every day (and blogging the recipes, which you can find here), and now has moved on to some organizational stuff. Cool!
Monday, March 2, 2009
John Fischer's "Catch of the Day" entry -- The Gospel for Little Brown Birds -- is magnificent. Please read it here.
The two sentences that really got me are these: "We gravitate towards sameness and find comfort in the familiar. But the gospel of Jesus Christ is big and wide and messy."
And how. Jesus didn't come just for the beautiful Christians and those who always have it right. He didn't come just for the "in" crowd in the Christian culture. He came for everyone on this planet. Everyone.
- Catherine
The two sentences that really got me are these: "We gravitate towards sameness and find comfort in the familiar. But the gospel of Jesus Christ is big and wide and messy."
And how. Jesus didn't come just for the beautiful Christians and those who always have it right. He didn't come just for the "in" crowd in the Christian culture. He came for everyone on this planet. Everyone.
- Catherine
Friday, February 27, 2009
Comic Relief of Life
I’m cleaning this morning. Every time I march outside with more garbage or recycling, the dog greets me with his ball in his mouth as I come back in. It’s clear from his prancing around and his ears up that he REALLY wants Mama to go outside and play with him….... now!
Hank provides a lot of comic relief in our house. As I reflected on that, I remembered some other moments of comic relief, canine and non-canine. It’s moments like these that bring a smile to your lips when the rest of life seems to be a bit too thick for comfort.
+++++++++++++++++
Hank on the back steps, excitedly anticipating a ride in the car with us:
Catherine: “Sorry, pup, but you cannot go this time.”
Hank looks straight at me for a long moment, heaves an ENORMOUS sigh, turns around and walks back into the house.
Question: Does our dog understand English?
+++++++++++++++++
Heard while riding in the car with a 16 year old who was clearly daydreaming:
Tim: “What do you think, Darren, should we stop and get some lunch?”
A moment of silence, and then, from the back seat: “What do you mean?”
+++++++++++++++++
A discussion about a morning’s proposed activity:
Catherine: I really feel underwhelmed about that
Doug (all of 5 years old): We can get you whelmed up, Catherine!
(I still marvel that his 5-year old mind got the sentence sense exactly right, even though there is no such phrase as “whelmed up.”)
++++++++++++
In the car, passing the gargantuan picture window of a very busy, very fancy, and very well-lit restaurant one night:
Catherine: Wow!
Abbi (all of 4 years old): Look at all those people DINING!
+++++++++++++++
And the most recent was this one, when I came home from a long business trip:
Catherine: “The floors are actually crunchy underfoot. Couldn’t you have vacuumed once while I was away?”
Tim: “I didn’t bring the dirt in, the dog did.”
(I confess, at the time I didn’t think this was funny, but the more I consider Tim’s completely serious answer, the funnier it gets.)
+++++++++++++++++
Hank provides a lot of comic relief in our house. As I reflected on that, I remembered some other moments of comic relief, canine and non-canine. It’s moments like these that bring a smile to your lips when the rest of life seems to be a bit too thick for comfort.
+++++++++++++++++
Hank on the back steps, excitedly anticipating a ride in the car with us:
Catherine: “Sorry, pup, but you cannot go this time.”
Hank looks straight at me for a long moment, heaves an ENORMOUS sigh, turns around and walks back into the house.
Question: Does our dog understand English?
+++++++++++++++++
Heard while riding in the car with a 16 year old who was clearly daydreaming:
Tim: “What do you think, Darren, should we stop and get some lunch?”
A moment of silence, and then, from the back seat: “What do you mean?”
+++++++++++++++++
A discussion about a morning’s proposed activity:
Catherine: I really feel underwhelmed about that
Doug (all of 5 years old): We can get you whelmed up, Catherine!
(I still marvel that his 5-year old mind got the sentence sense exactly right, even though there is no such phrase as “whelmed up.”)
++++++++++++
In the car, passing the gargantuan picture window of a very busy, very fancy, and very well-lit restaurant one night:
Catherine: Wow!
Abbi (all of 4 years old): Look at all those people DINING!
+++++++++++++++
And the most recent was this one, when I came home from a long business trip:
Catherine: “The floors are actually crunchy underfoot. Couldn’t you have vacuumed once while I was away?”
Tim: “I didn’t bring the dirt in, the dog did.”
(I confess, at the time I didn’t think this was funny, but the more I consider Tim’s completely serious answer, the funnier it gets.)
+++++++++++++++++
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Cousins Redux
I just realized that I wrote this blog a couple of weeks ago but never posted it. So, here are my musings about my most recent "cousin reunion." (My first blog about a cousin reunion earlier this year can be found here.)
------------
I’m glad I took a few days to digest this second reunion with a cousin before I really blogged about it, because something unexpected clicked into place in my brain during the wee hours of this morning.
Sarah and I are the daughters of two men who were brothers – I am Ed’s daughter and Sarah is Bob’s daughter. Our dads hardly spoke to each other for most of their adult lives -- indeed, these two brothers hardly had anything to do with each other at all; not so much out of hostility as, we surmise, out of antipathy. They simply seemed to have nothing to say to each other and could see no reason to stay in touch.
But the thing that really struck me in my conversation with Sarah was that her experience growing up with her dad seemed very much like my experience of my dad; i.e. rather distant. We both felt as though our relationships with these men had stayed at a somewhat superficial level. Thus, when I lost my Dad, the major part of my grief had to do with what “should” have been. Something had been missing between us and, as children usually do, I blamed myself for the problem. I must have been either too [fill in the blank] or not enough [fill in the blank] or I reminded him of [fill in the blank].
So, what clicked for me at o’dark-thirty this morning was that it wasn’t me. My conversation with my cousin revealed that the problem wasn’t confined just to Dad and me. Apparently, this is how the sons of Ed and Elsie Schanck are, because both of these men were rather distant fathers to their daughters. And the knowledge that they shared this characteristic suddenly brings something new to me: my dad really did love me, just as Bob really did love Sarah. Shining the spotlight of his brother’s life onto my own father’s life has brought a whole new sensibility to the situation.
Relief? You bet! The enigma of my father is now several puzzle pieces clearer than it was before, and that’s HUGE.
And I’m glad to find a kindred spirit in my cousin, Sarah, and see the similarities in our lives. Because it feels so much like home!
And now let me tell you about Sarah.
Hee Sun Park, born in Seoul, South Korea, arrived in our family in the Fall of 1969. My aunt and uncle named her Sarah after our paternal great-grandmother. I was 11 years old, she was 5 months old, and she was the only female first cousin I would ever have. My parents and brother and I traveled to visit her for the first time on the occasion of her christening, when she was 7 months old. I remember being very excited about this event – not only did I finally have a girl first cousin, but I was going to be among those who stood up with the family when little Sarah was christened.
I tell you this because of the thread that continued on from Sarah’s advent into the Schanck family. That thread went deeply into my own life because had there been no Sarah, there would have been no Abbi – my own cherished daughter, adopted from Korea when she was 3 months old.
I’ve blogged about adoption before. It is a real relationship that is in no way “second best” to a blood relationship. I know this. Abbi knows this. Sarah knows this. We have the empirical evidence that it isn’t just DNA that makes a family. And, in a backward way, that is proved again by my father and Sarah’s father. Brothers by blood, but, for most of their lives, hardly brothers at all.
For various reasons, Sarah and I went 19 years without contact. But, as our parents’ generation passes away, we cousins are all we have left. I don’t think we’ll ever go another 19 days, let alone 19 years, without at least a hello between us. That will be a better record than our fathers’.
------------
I’m glad I took a few days to digest this second reunion with a cousin before I really blogged about it, because something unexpected clicked into place in my brain during the wee hours of this morning.
Sarah and I are the daughters of two men who were brothers – I am Ed’s daughter and Sarah is Bob’s daughter. Our dads hardly spoke to each other for most of their adult lives -- indeed, these two brothers hardly had anything to do with each other at all; not so much out of hostility as, we surmise, out of antipathy. They simply seemed to have nothing to say to each other and could see no reason to stay in touch.
But the thing that really struck me in my conversation with Sarah was that her experience growing up with her dad seemed very much like my experience of my dad; i.e. rather distant. We both felt as though our relationships with these men had stayed at a somewhat superficial level. Thus, when I lost my Dad, the major part of my grief had to do with what “should” have been. Something had been missing between us and, as children usually do, I blamed myself for the problem. I must have been either too [fill in the blank] or not enough [fill in the blank] or I reminded him of [fill in the blank].
So, what clicked for me at o’dark-thirty this morning was that it wasn’t me. My conversation with my cousin revealed that the problem wasn’t confined just to Dad and me. Apparently, this is how the sons of Ed and Elsie Schanck are, because both of these men were rather distant fathers to their daughters. And the knowledge that they shared this characteristic suddenly brings something new to me: my dad really did love me, just as Bob really did love Sarah. Shining the spotlight of his brother’s life onto my own father’s life has brought a whole new sensibility to the situation.
Relief? You bet! The enigma of my father is now several puzzle pieces clearer than it was before, and that’s HUGE.
And I’m glad to find a kindred spirit in my cousin, Sarah, and see the similarities in our lives. Because it feels so much like home!
And now let me tell you about Sarah.
Hee Sun Park, born in Seoul, South Korea, arrived in our family in the Fall of 1969. My aunt and uncle named her Sarah after our paternal great-grandmother. I was 11 years old, she was 5 months old, and she was the only female first cousin I would ever have. My parents and brother and I traveled to visit her for the first time on the occasion of her christening, when she was 7 months old. I remember being very excited about this event – not only did I finally have a girl first cousin, but I was going to be among those who stood up with the family when little Sarah was christened.
I tell you this because of the thread that continued on from Sarah’s advent into the Schanck family. That thread went deeply into my own life because had there been no Sarah, there would have been no Abbi – my own cherished daughter, adopted from Korea when she was 3 months old.
I’ve blogged about adoption before. It is a real relationship that is in no way “second best” to a blood relationship. I know this. Abbi knows this. Sarah knows this. We have the empirical evidence that it isn’t just DNA that makes a family. And, in a backward way, that is proved again by my father and Sarah’s father. Brothers by blood, but, for most of their lives, hardly brothers at all.
For various reasons, Sarah and I went 19 years without contact. But, as our parents’ generation passes away, we cousins are all we have left. I don’t think we’ll ever go another 19 days, let alone 19 years, without at least a hello between us. That will be a better record than our fathers’.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
The Family Wiki
One of the effects of reconnecting with cousins is a renewed interest in my family of origin. I know a lot about them already, but obviously there is much more that I don't know.
My cousin, Sarah, and I have traded a few stories about our grandfather, and in the course of our catching up, we decided it would be good to have a website where everyone could contribute their memories and stories and facts about the family that we come from (my grandfather was one of seven children).
So, I started a wiki for the family. Each of the seven siblings (i.e. my grandfather's siblings) will have a page, as will the couple that all of us have in common -- my great-grandparents. We all have access to edit the wiki pages and add what we know about the various family members from whom we are descended.
Sarah's mom, my Aunt Jan, contributed some interesting stuff today -- including one important fact that I never knew: my grandmother had a brother! I thought there were just the three sisters (she being the eldest), and I do not EVER remember hearing about an Uncle Ernest!
This blows me away. In theory, I should have known this man, as I knew my grandmother's sisters, but he may very well have died before I was born. I'm hoping my Aunt Jan will write more on the wiki and fill in that gap.
And I'm really hoping that more family members will contribute what they know because I think this promises to be a very interesting exercise for all of us!
My cousin, Sarah, and I have traded a few stories about our grandfather, and in the course of our catching up, we decided it would be good to have a website where everyone could contribute their memories and stories and facts about the family that we come from (my grandfather was one of seven children).
So, I started a wiki for the family. Each of the seven siblings (i.e. my grandfather's siblings) will have a page, as will the couple that all of us have in common -- my great-grandparents. We all have access to edit the wiki pages and add what we know about the various family members from whom we are descended.
Sarah's mom, my Aunt Jan, contributed some interesting stuff today -- including one important fact that I never knew: my grandmother had a brother! I thought there were just the three sisters (she being the eldest), and I do not EVER remember hearing about an Uncle Ernest!
This blows me away. In theory, I should have known this man, as I knew my grandmother's sisters, but he may very well have died before I was born. I'm hoping my Aunt Jan will write more on the wiki and fill in that gap.
And I'm really hoping that more family members will contribute what they know because I think this promises to be a very interesting exercise for all of us!
Saturday
It's Saturday and my to-do list is much longer than I'd like it to be. How's yours?
I'm still waking up on East Coast time, which actually isn't a bad thing because it does give me a couple of hours of peace and quiet before the day really begins. Of course, it means I'm dead tired by 9:00 at night, but there are always trade-offs, I guess. I enjoy the stillness of the house before everyone else gets up, I must say; it gives me a chance to get myself oriented for the day.
Today's list includes vacuuming, steam cleaning the floors, making a batch of tomato sauce, making gluten-free pizza for dinner, baking a gluten-free chocolate cake, and the domestic equivalent of "all other duties as assigned." In this case, both the "assignor" and the "assignee" of those duties would be.... me. (Except, if I see my hubby looking like he needs something to do, I'll happily assign him something from my list.)
This weekend is a brief respite of nesting in the midst of a busy work and travel schedule. Tomorrow we'll be going out to watch the Super Bowl, but otherwise, I intend to be At Home. The kitchen will smell marvelous with the tomato sauce slowly simmering in the oven, and the family room fire will be roaring. We won't even notice the 10 degree weather outside -- well, except for when the dog insists on his daily walks and playtime.
I'm still thinking over and processing my recent visit with my cousin, Sarah, and I'll be posting that blog entry pretty soon.
Happy weekend to all!
- Catherine
UPDATE Saturday night: got it all done! My floors are so clean you could eat off of them. The chocolate cake was so amazing that we ate an enormous portion of it tonight -- so a much smaller portion than anticipated will be going to the Super Bowl party tomorrow. All of tonight's dinner was gluten free -- the pizza and the cake -- and it was all wonderful, if I do say so myself (and I do). Ta da!
I'm still waking up on East Coast time, which actually isn't a bad thing because it does give me a couple of hours of peace and quiet before the day really begins. Of course, it means I'm dead tired by 9:00 at night, but there are always trade-offs, I guess. I enjoy the stillness of the house before everyone else gets up, I must say; it gives me a chance to get myself oriented for the day.
Today's list includes vacuuming, steam cleaning the floors, making a batch of tomato sauce, making gluten-free pizza for dinner, baking a gluten-free chocolate cake, and the domestic equivalent of "all other duties as assigned." In this case, both the "assignor" and the "assignee" of those duties would be.... me. (Except, if I see my hubby looking like he needs something to do, I'll happily assign him something from my list.)
This weekend is a brief respite of nesting in the midst of a busy work and travel schedule. Tomorrow we'll be going out to watch the Super Bowl, but otherwise, I intend to be At Home. The kitchen will smell marvelous with the tomato sauce slowly simmering in the oven, and the family room fire will be roaring. We won't even notice the 10 degree weather outside -- well, except for when the dog insists on his daily walks and playtime.
I'm still thinking over and processing my recent visit with my cousin, Sarah, and I'll be posting that blog entry pretty soon.
Happy weekend to all!
- Catherine
UPDATE Saturday night: got it all done! My floors are so clean you could eat off of them. The chocolate cake was so amazing that we ate an enormous portion of it tonight -- so a much smaller portion than anticipated will be going to the Super Bowl party tomorrow. All of tonight's dinner was gluten free -- the pizza and the cake -- and it was all wonderful, if I do say so myself (and I do). Ta da!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
But.....
[Fair warning – this entry is a rant.]
The world seems to be enamored of the escape clause these days. “I’m sorry, but….” Or “I’m grateful, but….” In other words: I will acknowledge what’s going on here but in no way am I responsible for my action or words, and your efforts aren’t good enough to satisfy my vanity.
The latest example I’ve seen on a grand scale is that at least one of the passengers on the recently ditched US Airways jet is contemplating a lawsuit against US Airways in order to compensate his emotional suffering as a result of the accidental loss of both engines due to a bird strike. Apparently, US Airways is responsible not only for its jets but for the natural ecosystem around them and the environment in which they fly. Uh huh. Who knew the airlines had such all-encompassing power?
We live – and have always lived – in a world in which not everything can be under the control of human beings. Accidents happen. US Airways was in no way negligent in this incident. How can anyone, in good conscience, sue them? It’s not as though the airline has been silent or is ignoring the situation. They’ve sent each passenger a check for $5,000 up front plus they’ve set up an insurance mechanism by which passengers can recover more of the replacement cost of their belongings. It won’t be perfect, but is it fair to bankrupt a corporation because Mother Nature completely screwed up the careful preparations and planning that were made for everyone’s safety?
The passenger’s lawyer is quoted -- actually quoted – as saying “We’re grateful [for US Airways efforts at restitution], but….” [meaning: it won’t be enough until we have millions of dollars]. Puh-leeze!
If you have to put the word “but” in the sentence, then you’ve negated what went before it. Thus, you are not grateful. Not at all.
Even worse than “I’m grateful, but…”is the phrase “I’m sorry, but…”. It’s a sorry excuse for an apology. In fact, it’s not an apology. An apology is an expression of regret and of taking responsibility for one’s actions. “I’m sorry, but….” does no such thing. A real apology sounds something like this (choose two): “I’m sorry. I truly regret that. I will do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” A genuine apology is a short declarative statement of regret that acknowledges the damage that was done – with nary an excuse in sight. The explanations about the situation may come up in a later conversation between the two people, but explanations become nothing more than excuses when they are attached to the apology itself. Either you are sorry or you’re not. Either you take responsibility or you don’t. The addition of “…but…” means you’re still trying to justify and excuse your actions, or, worse yet (and far too common),actually trying to place the blame on the person to whom you are ostensibly apologizing. “I’m sorry, but… [your actions were the root cause of mine, thus it’s really your fault].” Wake up! The apology isn’t about you – it’s about the person whose relationship you claim to value.
Further, it doesn’t matter what your intentions were. Whether or not you intended to cause offense or pain, the end result is the same: there IS offense and/or pain, and you were responsible for it, whether you meant for it to happen or not. Do you care about the other person? Then make a genuine apology and save the explanation for later. On the other hand, if you don’t care, then I guess the phrase “I’m sorry, but…” is perfectly correct. Because, really, you’re not.
I once had someone say to me, “I’m not going to apologize because I didn’t intend to cause a problem.” At least the person was honest, but the truth is, whether he/she intended it or not, there was damage done. And that damage has yet to be undone because this person thinks their intentions somehow trump their actions.
I am completely unapologetic about this issue. Take responsibility and make your sentiments genuine, please! As a society, we’ve devolved to an extremely low level of personal accountability and an even lower level of gratitude. It’s pathetic and it is no wonder we have such a problem living together peaceably. All is vanity (so says Ecclesiastes 1:2). How sad.
[Okay, rant over.]
The world seems to be enamored of the escape clause these days. “I’m sorry, but….” Or “I’m grateful, but….” In other words: I will acknowledge what’s going on here but in no way am I responsible for my action or words, and your efforts aren’t good enough to satisfy my vanity.
The latest example I’ve seen on a grand scale is that at least one of the passengers on the recently ditched US Airways jet is contemplating a lawsuit against US Airways in order to compensate his emotional suffering as a result of the accidental loss of both engines due to a bird strike. Apparently, US Airways is responsible not only for its jets but for the natural ecosystem around them and the environment in which they fly. Uh huh. Who knew the airlines had such all-encompassing power?
We live – and have always lived – in a world in which not everything can be under the control of human beings. Accidents happen. US Airways was in no way negligent in this incident. How can anyone, in good conscience, sue them? It’s not as though the airline has been silent or is ignoring the situation. They’ve sent each passenger a check for $5,000 up front plus they’ve set up an insurance mechanism by which passengers can recover more of the replacement cost of their belongings. It won’t be perfect, but is it fair to bankrupt a corporation because Mother Nature completely screwed up the careful preparations and planning that were made for everyone’s safety?
The passenger’s lawyer is quoted -- actually quoted – as saying “We’re grateful [for US Airways efforts at restitution], but….” [meaning: it won’t be enough until we have millions of dollars]. Puh-leeze!
If you have to put the word “but” in the sentence, then you’ve negated what went before it. Thus, you are not grateful. Not at all.
Even worse than “I’m grateful, but…”is the phrase “I’m sorry, but…”. It’s a sorry excuse for an apology. In fact, it’s not an apology. An apology is an expression of regret and of taking responsibility for one’s actions. “I’m sorry, but….” does no such thing. A real apology sounds something like this (choose two): “I’m sorry. I truly regret that. I will do my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” A genuine apology is a short declarative statement of regret that acknowledges the damage that was done – with nary an excuse in sight. The explanations about the situation may come up in a later conversation between the two people, but explanations become nothing more than excuses when they are attached to the apology itself. Either you are sorry or you’re not. Either you take responsibility or you don’t. The addition of “…but…” means you’re still trying to justify and excuse your actions, or, worse yet (and far too common),actually trying to place the blame on the person to whom you are ostensibly apologizing. “I’m sorry, but… [your actions were the root cause of mine, thus it’s really your fault].” Wake up! The apology isn’t about you – it’s about the person whose relationship you claim to value.
Further, it doesn’t matter what your intentions were. Whether or not you intended to cause offense or pain, the end result is the same: there IS offense and/or pain, and you were responsible for it, whether you meant for it to happen or not. Do you care about the other person? Then make a genuine apology and save the explanation for later. On the other hand, if you don’t care, then I guess the phrase “I’m sorry, but…” is perfectly correct. Because, really, you’re not.
I once had someone say to me, “I’m not going to apologize because I didn’t intend to cause a problem.” At least the person was honest, but the truth is, whether he/she intended it or not, there was damage done. And that damage has yet to be undone because this person thinks their intentions somehow trump their actions.
I am completely unapologetic about this issue. Take responsibility and make your sentiments genuine, please! As a society, we’ve devolved to an extremely low level of personal accountability and an even lower level of gratitude. It’s pathetic and it is no wonder we have such a problem living together peaceably. All is vanity (so says Ecclesiastes 1:2). How sad.
[Okay, rant over.]
Monday, January 26, 2009
Lost photo
So, I got some great photographs of my cousin, Sarah, and her family this weekend, as you can see in my Picasa web album.
When I visited cousins Karen and Jim earlier this month, I took a digital photograph of them -- just one. I did upload it at one point to my computer. Do you think I can find this photograph? I cannot. I've looked everywhere in my hard drive and on the memory card of the camera, and it is nowhere to be found. All those bytes of data.... vanished.
The wonders of technology.
Sigh.
With luck, I'll get more pics the next time I see them (hopefully in April).
When I visited cousins Karen and Jim earlier this month, I took a digital photograph of them -- just one. I did upload it at one point to my computer. Do you think I can find this photograph? I cannot. I've looked everywhere in my hard drive and on the memory card of the camera, and it is nowhere to be found. All those bytes of data.... vanished.
The wonders of technology.
Sigh.
With luck, I'll get more pics the next time I see them (hopefully in April).
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Cousins, Part II
I’m in Baltimore today, visiting with yet another "long lost" cousin. This one is my first cousin – and we are the only female first cousins on this particular side of the family. In the odd way of some families (such as ours), we have been out of touch for nearly 20 years.
There will be another (longer) blog post when the visit is done, but suffice it to say that I am finding with Sarah that same familiarity of “home” that I found in the visit with my second cousins, Jim and Karen, earlier this month. Cool stuff!
There will be another (longer) blog post when the visit is done, but suffice it to say that I am finding with Sarah that same familiarity of “home” that I found in the visit with my second cousins, Jim and Karen, earlier this month. Cool stuff!
Monday, January 19, 2009
Horses, milestones, and tombstones
I don’t know where time is going these days, but it’s astounding to me that 10 days have gone by without my posting another entry in my blog.
We spent the weekend at a two-day horse training workshop -- my husband, my youngest, our nephew and his daughter, and a dear friend who’s as nuts about horses as we are. It was an excellent clinic done by Clinton Anderson. Without doubt he is the best teacher I’ve heard yet when it comes to explaining how to effectively work with your horse. He’s also very generous with his knowledge and his experience -- and even with his merchandise (a lot of very valuable prizes were given away during the workshop). Many famous horse trainers use their tours as nothing more than an advertisement to get you to buy their very high-priced club memberships and DVDs. While Anderson’s DVDs aren’t exactly cheap, most of his merchandise is actually moderately priced, and he really does teach you a great deal in the course of the workshop itself. I’ve come away from other horse training workshops feeling inspired – I came away from Anderson’s feeling like I really know something about working my horse. Big difference. And I can’t wait to try it out.
My husband purchased one of the Clinton Anderson DVDs as a gift for me, which is great. But you should know that Tim is still trying to worm his way back into my good graces after the debacle of my 50th Birthday party. The story is this: My June birthday usually passes with little fanfare since it is a hectic time in my work year. When my daughter, Abbi, came home from Korea last August, I naturally planned a party for everyone to come over and visit with her before she headed back for her second year of teaching English. Unbeknownst to me, Tim decided that this event would also be my 50th birthday party. Only problem – I did all the planning and buying, and I did most of the food preparation. When Tim stood up to give thanks to God before the meal, he suddenly revealed that this was my 50th birthday party. That was news to me, and also news to a few of Tim’s kids that he’d forgotten to notify (they were at the party but didn’t know about the intended surprise).
Let me say here and now that I had a great time at my party and that my husband said very nice things about me. I love Tim dearly – he’s a very good man. But, as a point of wifely honor, I have yet to let him forget that I catered my own 50th birthday party, in stark contrast to his, which was quite an extravaganza arranged by li’l ole me. I told him that I was going to put it on his tombstone for all to see: Here lies Tim, who let his wife arrange and cater her own 50th birthday party.
I have to say, the Clinton Anderson DVD was an inspired attempt by my husband to get back on track. It’s something that I definitely wanted – and also something that Tim and I will be able to share. All to the good.
Maybe I’ll let him off the hook in a year or so. We’ll see……
In the meantime, my horses are going to love this.
- Catherine
We spent the weekend at a two-day horse training workshop -- my husband, my youngest, our nephew and his daughter, and a dear friend who’s as nuts about horses as we are. It was an excellent clinic done by Clinton Anderson. Without doubt he is the best teacher I’ve heard yet when it comes to explaining how to effectively work with your horse. He’s also very generous with his knowledge and his experience -- and even with his merchandise (a lot of very valuable prizes were given away during the workshop). Many famous horse trainers use their tours as nothing more than an advertisement to get you to buy their very high-priced club memberships and DVDs. While Anderson’s DVDs aren’t exactly cheap, most of his merchandise is actually moderately priced, and he really does teach you a great deal in the course of the workshop itself. I’ve come away from other horse training workshops feeling inspired – I came away from Anderson’s feeling like I really know something about working my horse. Big difference. And I can’t wait to try it out.
My husband purchased one of the Clinton Anderson DVDs as a gift for me, which is great. But you should know that Tim is still trying to worm his way back into my good graces after the debacle of my 50th Birthday party. The story is this: My June birthday usually passes with little fanfare since it is a hectic time in my work year. When my daughter, Abbi, came home from Korea last August, I naturally planned a party for everyone to come over and visit with her before she headed back for her second year of teaching English. Unbeknownst to me, Tim decided that this event would also be my 50th birthday party. Only problem – I did all the planning and buying, and I did most of the food preparation. When Tim stood up to give thanks to God before the meal, he suddenly revealed that this was my 50th birthday party. That was news to me, and also news to a few of Tim’s kids that he’d forgotten to notify (they were at the party but didn’t know about the intended surprise).
Let me say here and now that I had a great time at my party and that my husband said very nice things about me. I love Tim dearly – he’s a very good man. But, as a point of wifely honor, I have yet to let him forget that I catered my own 50th birthday party, in stark contrast to his, which was quite an extravaganza arranged by li’l ole me. I told him that I was going to put it on his tombstone for all to see: Here lies Tim, who let his wife arrange and cater her own 50th birthday party.
I have to say, the Clinton Anderson DVD was an inspired attempt by my husband to get back on track. It’s something that I definitely wanted – and also something that Tim and I will be able to share. All to the good.
Maybe I’ll let him off the hook in a year or so. We’ll see……
In the meantime, my horses are going to love this.
- Catherine
Friday, January 9, 2009
Cousins
I met up with a couple of “long lost” second cousins the other day. I’d been looking forward to this reunion for several weeks and was very excited about it. And I thought sure there would be a terrific blog post immediately coming to mind after the reunion. I even anticipated beginning that process on the Metro while riding back to DC from our lunch. But, surprisingly, I had no immediate desire to blog about it.
I think I needed time to digest it.
And so I have. And here’s what I think:
First, I think I have some awesome cousins!
I last saw Jimmy (my apologies, Jim – you will forever be “Jimmy” to me) when we were in high school. That’s about 35 years ago. Truthfully, I would not have known him if Karen hadn’t said to me, “That’s Jim.” But when he opened his mouth to speak, I finally saw the resemblance to the boy I’d known. We’ve both had lots of life experiences in the 35 years that have gone by. Jimmy’s life certainly agrees with him and it is always a great joy to see that in someone. He did a five-year stint in the Navy after high school, got married, went to college, had a couple of kids, and now he hangs out in the swamps of Virginia (okay, he’s a distinguished “wetlands biologist” – but wetlands are swamps to me).
I am in awe of Karen. She has homeschooled all five of her children and she’s done it thoughtfully and well. She grinds her own wheat. And she’s a grammar nut (said with much affection) who writes with considerable grace and elegance. I know that because I keep up with her blog. I last saw Karen about 18 years ago at a family function in New Jersey that neither of us can actually remember – except we know that we were both there, she with her youngest baby and me with my 6-year old daughter (both of whom are named Abigail, by the way). Cannot, for the life of me, remember what kind of function we were attending! Anniversary? Memorial service? Funeral? Have no idea (very sad, that).
The second thing that I think is this: there is something that is not tangible but is nevertheless very comforting and real about families. I can’t attribute it just to DNA because I’ve seen firsthand how adopted children can be part of a family so completely that the DNA doesn’t matter. In other words, “nurture” is just as powerful as “nature” and plays just as great a part in what makes a family. Part of this indefinable something, I think, is that we three cousins grew up in the same State, in the same general area, at the same time, and so we were shaped by the same society. And part of it is that we are, in fact, descended from the same family culture. Each family is unique in the way they live – Jim, Karen and I are products of that same experience.
We have some of the same ways of speaking. We have some common viewpoints (and many that diverge, too). I can hear echoes of our parents and grandparents in the ways that we look at life. We have ranged far and wide in our adult lives and have been out of touch with each other for a very long time, but when we sat down together there was a unique feeling of home that just cannot come from anywhere else. I’ve blogged about home before. Being reunited with my cousins reminds me again of who I am; they are part of the experience that formed me. They are unique and interesting individuals. I hope and pray they will continue to be part of my life’s journey.
- Catherine
I think I needed time to digest it.
And so I have. And here’s what I think:
First, I think I have some awesome cousins!
I last saw Jimmy (my apologies, Jim – you will forever be “Jimmy” to me) when we were in high school. That’s about 35 years ago. Truthfully, I would not have known him if Karen hadn’t said to me, “That’s Jim.” But when he opened his mouth to speak, I finally saw the resemblance to the boy I’d known. We’ve both had lots of life experiences in the 35 years that have gone by. Jimmy’s life certainly agrees with him and it is always a great joy to see that in someone. He did a five-year stint in the Navy after high school, got married, went to college, had a couple of kids, and now he hangs out in the swamps of Virginia (okay, he’s a distinguished “wetlands biologist” – but wetlands are swamps to me).
I am in awe of Karen. She has homeschooled all five of her children and she’s done it thoughtfully and well. She grinds her own wheat. And she’s a grammar nut (said with much affection) who writes with considerable grace and elegance. I know that because I keep up with her blog. I last saw Karen about 18 years ago at a family function in New Jersey that neither of us can actually remember – except we know that we were both there, she with her youngest baby and me with my 6-year old daughter (both of whom are named Abigail, by the way). Cannot, for the life of me, remember what kind of function we were attending! Anniversary? Memorial service? Funeral? Have no idea (very sad, that).
The second thing that I think is this: there is something that is not tangible but is nevertheless very comforting and real about families. I can’t attribute it just to DNA because I’ve seen firsthand how adopted children can be part of a family so completely that the DNA doesn’t matter. In other words, “nurture” is just as powerful as “nature” and plays just as great a part in what makes a family. Part of this indefinable something, I think, is that we three cousins grew up in the same State, in the same general area, at the same time, and so we were shaped by the same society. And part of it is that we are, in fact, descended from the same family culture. Each family is unique in the way they live – Jim, Karen and I are products of that same experience.
We have some of the same ways of speaking. We have some common viewpoints (and many that diverge, too). I can hear echoes of our parents and grandparents in the ways that we look at life. We have ranged far and wide in our adult lives and have been out of touch with each other for a very long time, but when we sat down together there was a unique feeling of home that just cannot come from anywhere else. I’ve blogged about home before. Being reunited with my cousins reminds me again of who I am; they are part of the experience that formed me. They are unique and interesting individuals. I hope and pray they will continue to be part of my life’s journey.
- Catherine
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Travels with Catherine
Here we go again.
Getting to DC was a nightmare -- of re-routing, weather delays and mechanical delays. 16 hours, one $400 travel voucher, and 2,000 bonus miles later, I finally got to DC. And now, on the eve of my scheduled return home, I’ve just discovered that the airline somehow dropped my return trip from the system!
I am on the phone right now trying to reinstate the flights of the original itinerary. Apparently when they rerouted me on the outbound itinerary (from home to DC), they dropped the rest of the trip. Hel-lo?!
I’m on hold. I’ve been on hold for a long time now. The representative came on a few minutes ago to assure me that they are taking care of it and that it will only be a few more minutes while they get it back in the system.
She just came back on again to ask about my address -- apparently they couldn't make sense of it. No wonder. They had the zip code of my old condo in Bountiful and the street address of my office in Salt Lake City. The real pity is that over a year ago I changed the address for my account to my Pocatello home address. How they ended up with such a mess in their system is beyond me. When I told the rep that I'd changed my address over a year ago, her response was "you must have done that online." Well..... if online is my only resource for making a change of address, why doesn't it translate through the rest of their system? Hel-lo?!
What the....?
Getting to DC was a nightmare -- of re-routing, weather delays and mechanical delays. 16 hours, one $400 travel voucher, and 2,000 bonus miles later, I finally got to DC. And now, on the eve of my scheduled return home, I’ve just discovered that the airline somehow dropped my return trip from the system!
I am on the phone right now trying to reinstate the flights of the original itinerary. Apparently when they rerouted me on the outbound itinerary (from home to DC), they dropped the rest of the trip. Hel-lo?!
I’m on hold. I’ve been on hold for a long time now. The representative came on a few minutes ago to assure me that they are taking care of it and that it will only be a few more minutes while they get it back in the system.
She just came back on again to ask about my address -- apparently they couldn't make sense of it. No wonder. They had the zip code of my old condo in Bountiful and the street address of my office in Salt Lake City. The real pity is that over a year ago I changed the address for my account to my Pocatello home address. How they ended up with such a mess in their system is beyond me. When I told the rep that I'd changed my address over a year ago, her response was "you must have done that online." Well..... if online is my only resource for making a change of address, why doesn't it translate through the rest of their system? Hel-lo?!
What the....?
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Flood
Yesterday I wrote a brief entry announcing the passing of my friends’ son, Ben.
Ben’s mother, Carin, kept a journal on the CaringBridge.org site – a free website service that gives people in the Towne’s situation the opportunity to keep loved ones and friends informed. The site contains a guest book feature, a journal feature, and space for photographs. Carin and Jeff made good use of this wonderful website during their 18 months’ ordeal.
I’ve been reading parts of the guest book and have been struck over and over again by the outpouring – the absolute flood – of compassion from people who do not know the Towne family. So many entries start out “You don’t know me, but….” And so many of those entries contain eloquent expressions of sympathy for, and empathy with, the Towne family.
It renews my faith in humankind.
Carin and Jeff are in a very difficult place in their life journey. Ben spent nearly half of his short life battling neuroblastoma; the ups and downs of his ordeal can be found in his mother’s journal on the CaringBridge site. Understandably, the doubts and fears of his parents can be found there, too. It’s a heartbreaking read, but I highly recommend it. Read the guestbook, too. More than 5,000 expressions of encouragement, comfort, and sympathy have been logged since the summer of 2007. A flood.
Ben’s mother, Carin, kept a journal on the CaringBridge.org site – a free website service that gives people in the Towne’s situation the opportunity to keep loved ones and friends informed. The site contains a guest book feature, a journal feature, and space for photographs. Carin and Jeff made good use of this wonderful website during their 18 months’ ordeal.
I’ve been reading parts of the guest book and have been struck over and over again by the outpouring – the absolute flood – of compassion from people who do not know the Towne family. So many entries start out “You don’t know me, but….” And so many of those entries contain eloquent expressions of sympathy for, and empathy with, the Towne family.
It renews my faith in humankind.
Carin and Jeff are in a very difficult place in their life journey. Ben spent nearly half of his short life battling neuroblastoma; the ups and downs of his ordeal can be found in his mother’s journal on the CaringBridge site. Understandably, the doubts and fears of his parents can be found there, too. It’s a heartbreaking read, but I highly recommend it. Read the guestbook, too. More than 5,000 expressions of encouragement, comfort, and sympathy have been logged since the summer of 2007. A flood.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tidings of Comfort and Joy
Another hectic December is flying by and I’m still not quite ready for Christmas. I am working on top-secret homemade projects and my inspiration level has been pretty darn low lately. Not sure why that is – must be my own version of the “shoot yourself in the foot” gene that has plagued some members of my family over the generations. I intend to rise above my DNA, however, and get these gifts done in time for the holiday.
It’s cold here in Pocatello – really cold. I’m so glad we have our gas fireplace/stove running in the family room. It’s very near my desk and I stay toasty warm all day while I’m working. We’re expecting more snow starting this evening and going into tomorrow; should be a white Christmas for us because we’re not expecting a thaw anytime soon. The barn in the picture above is my favorite of this year's Christmas scenery in Pocatello.
Last night a small group of souls from my church went caroling at one of the local assisted living facilities. This is a far cry from the nursing homes that we used to visit when I was a kid – those were much more like medical/hospital facilities than ‘assisted living’ homes. I can still remember caroling for the first time with my high school choir at one of those places. We were visiting one of the “nicer” nursing homes in our area, but sections of it were still pretty grim. What struck me, though, and also thrilled me was watching the faces of the inhabitants as we sang the familiar carols. Many who were disoriented, senile, and “out of it” would sing, or at least mouth the words along with us. Obviously the lyrics of the Christmas carols were embedded deeply in their memories – so deep that they couldn’t be completely erased, even as the years took their toll. I loved seeing these people come a little bit more alive in response to the music. I hope the message of the carols was just as deeply embedded in their minds as the words and the music – I’ll never know for sure, but I hope.
Last night we sang for many in a lovely facility. What struck me this time was a woman sitting alone on a bench at the end of one of the corridors. She watched us intently as we sang for her (we toured the hallways, singing), but she didn’t give any recognition, didn’t sing along or even mouth the words. As we moved off, she remained seated on that same bench, by herself. When we reached the opposite end of that corridor, I looked back and still she was there. Seemingly motionless. I wondered what she was thinking and hoped that the music had somehow reached her. That’s another one I’ll never know, but I hope.
It’s no secret that I am a Christian. I am seriously grateful for Christ’s work on the Cross on our behalf. I look with hope toward the day when I get to go home to meet my Savior face to face. In the meantime, I’m happy to be on this earth, where He came, too – just a tiny baby in the most squalid of human circumstances. God and man. Lord and Savior. Redeeming His own.
Merry Christmas!
- Catherine
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