The Train

The Clickity-Clack...Clickity-Clack of the wheels on the train lulled me to sleep as I was gently rocked, cradle-like, in my narrow bed in the sleeper car. The room was cozy, (translation ~ small), but clean, comfortable and adequate for two ‘thirty-something’ sisters on a journey from Barcelona to Paris and beyond by way of Switzerland and Germany. Mesmerized by the quickly changing shadows on the ceiling and walls as we scurried past little villages I fell into a contented sleep

.

It was coming upon midnight when the train stopped. To our amazement we were told that we were at the Swiss border and that the train needed to have its wheels changed in order to fit onto the different sized track for the rest of the journey. This was amazing and at the same time quite disturbing as I could not begin to fathom how this massive project could be done at all let alone with all of the passengers still on board. I assumed the seasoned travelers were still nestled in their beds but it seemed that most were standing at their windows in nightgowns, robes and slippers! 

But it was done in record time and we were soon back in our beds sleeping soundly, rocking left to right, left to right to the Clickity-Clack of the new wheels for the next track-line. (I understand that this method has been replaced by variable gauge axles now).

A few weeks ago I injured my knee. Oh it hurt!  It hurt day and night, it hurt when I walked, it hurt when I sat, it hurt the most when I tried to stand and it hurt to lie down. Regardless of what I tried or the distraction I created with movies or food or social media my focus always came back to the pain. It ruled my life; it dominated my thoughts and confounded the ability to function normally.

It has healed now, I’m fine and even though it is no longer screaming out for attention, I still appreciate the value of having a good knee!  I'm quite attached to it in fact.

I realized shortly afterwards though that for nearly three years now my underlying mind-set has been the pain of being without Dale. Similar to my aching knee, when I wake up in the middle of the night that emotional raw pain is there in my mind and heart. Or when I finish anything, be it reading a book, watching a show, painting, taking a walk, shopping….you name it.  As soon as the distraction is over my brain’s default falls into focusing on the pain of being alone.  Not just alone, although that has taken a good deal of adjustment, but the pain that continues on unceasingly is being alone without him. I’m not seeking companionship, which would take care of the being alone but it would never take care of the being without.

In the early hours of morning and as my eyes go from deep sleep to wide awake in a literal blink as they so often do, I’m aware that this emotional pain dominates my quiet times. I can involve myself in all kinds of distractions and goals which work but unless I carry it on 24 hours a day those transitions between activities times quickly make my mind re-set to that standard default which is emotional pain.

But to try to fight it or deny these emotions only makes me focus on them more. One cannot simply say goodbye to a 42 year old bond. 

But then I think of that train. I don’t need to disembark from the comfort of the train, the “being the-wife-of-Dale” train; I just need to change the wheels for use on these current tracks. The old wheels having morphed into the painful emotions that are always turning turning turning below the surface of my very existence.  And perhaps, just perhaps, instead of fighting it or protecting myself from that pain… I should just simply release it.  Not release my love for Dale or the memories but release the painful emotions. 

I asked myself to just let it go. And I felt a change come over me. A freedom. I realize that I may be required to release the pain now and again as it crops up unexpectedly until it becomes the standard mind set. Who would have thought that quietly releasing the pain and have it flutter silently away as if on butterfly wings works better than bravely fighting it and trying to force it to stop!

I’ll talk about Dale’s passing now when I need to but without the pain. I’ll think about it when I want to but without the pain. Isn’t doing that like being fitted with new wheels that work on the track of my new default set point? The one of emotional happiness for the time we had instead of emotional pain for what I've lost?

I stopped by the charming little book store in the village yesterday to look for a children’s book I had heard about for my grandchildren.  Pushing open the front door I passed by the little café on the left enjoying the aroma of fresh baked muffins and then past the book loving employee handing a book to a customer; “I play the guitar and also paint” he said, “And I believe that writing is an art as well and this author is the epitome of that” he went on to elaborate the finer points of the book which I missed as his voice faded away as I continued on in my pursuit of the children's nook.

There it was - a delightful little place with colorful books and matching fluffy toys, a table with chairs and a big rocking chair.  I found the book I wanted and sat at the table to peruse. I was aware that a little child had climbed into the rocking chair next to me but I didn’t look up from my reading. 

Then interrupting the quiet, a little voice: “Hello”.

 “Hello.” I answered back.  I turned my head now to see her - She was a darling little girl with deep blue eyes and long wavy black hair. She sat with her legs crossed and clutched an overstuffed purple unicorn up to her heart.

“I don’t have any friends” she divulged with sad eyes and a trembling lower lip. “Nobody likes me”.

I put down my book. “Why do you think that is?” I asked. Captivated by her dark blue eyes.

“Well I did have a best friend but she moved and I won’t ever see her ever again.” There was agony in her little voice.

“I lost my best friend too” I told her.

We both sat in silence for a few seconds.

“Did your best friend move too?” she questioned.

“No, my best friend died.”

“Oh” she said.

And I could tell she knew now that I understood her angst.

She continued on with her woeful story…“So I tried to get Abby to be my new best friend and she just hit me and told me she doesn’t want to be my best friend”.

“Well that’s a problem” I sympathized. “Why do you think she said that?”

“I don’t know!” she sighed. “She pushed me away and when I tried to pull her arm she hit me so I bit her”

“Perhaps she’s not best friend material” I mused. “The thing is, you need to be friends before you become best friends. Do you think if you were not looking for a best friend and concentrated on being a friend that you might be happier? The best friend part could come later.

“Maybe” she said

“Are there other children in your class that you like?”

“No, none of them want to be my best friend so I don’t l like them”

Are there any children who are nice to you?

“Yes”

“If you had a book to write in, could you write down the names of the children who are nice to you? (I've become keenly aware of the power of counting your blessings at a time such as this).

“I don’t know how to spell their names”

“Can you draw pictures of them?”

“Yes”

Could you draw them with happy faces?

“Yes”

She started rocking and I could see she was in thought, so I finished reading my book, but as I was disappointed in it I decided against buying it and said, “Well I’ve finished my book, I think I’ll put it back and go now”

She reached over her shoulder and grabbed a three headed dragon puppet from the puppet tree and as I put the book back on the shelf she said in a pleading little voice, “Can you give the dragon a hug?”

I did, and I told the dragon that I loved him and that I thought the dragon was very brave. I told the little girl my name and asked her if she would draw me in her new friend book.

She smiled, nodded and hugged the unicorn and dragon.

We had both found a new friend.

I walked out of the book store and climbed into my car and as I fastened my seat belt I realized that it hadn’t pained me to talk about Dale dying. It isn't that I don't still love him or miss him, but like my knee - I don't have to be in pain to recognize what's there. I had released the emotional pain of my loss.  Clickity-Clack Clickity-Clack... my journey through life can continue now.

In Silent Awe

I remember those beautiful end-of-summer days as a child at my grandparent’s farmhouse.  I can still hear sweet Grandma calling: “Come sit on the porch and watch the sunset with me!”

I’d scurry out to the wide porch gracing the front of the old home that I loved so dearly. The porch was draped in the green of lush summer vines and I'd find Grandma sitting cozily in a white wooden rocking chair. Climbing into the matching chair next to her, my young legs were too short to touch the floor but even so we would sit and rock ever so slowly, ever so quietly, ever so aware of being together and we would watch.  She’d place her 80 year old hand on my youthful one resting on the arm of the white rocker and we would just watch the miracle of “God signing his name to the end of the day” as she would call the sunset.

With his colorful pen of gold and crimson and saffron and honey we would observe with amazement how brilliantly his signature would appear on his masterpiece, another perfect day.

It always felt like an important time. Those moments shared with Grandma. A Grandma with her memories and a child with her dreams but not now, this was a grateful and non-rushed time. No words, no music, no hustling or bustling.  Just a time of awe.  Simply enjoying the moment.

It was magical and like they say…it’s hard to feel down when you’re looking up.

I’ve strolled through the great museums of the world, lost in the grandeur of masterpieces brilliantly created by artists whose only goal was an attempt to emulate in paint or marble or clay the beauty and power of God’s masterpieces. Be it his world or his children.

The Bible begins with the words…”In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth.” And it seems to me that he "goes about" each and every day since then attending to it. Every day is unique, every day is important; every day ends with his signature.

Many years have passed since sitting on that front porch with Grandma; the dreams of my youth are my memories now. I feel as if Grandma and Dale are on the other side of the sunset, along with Mother and Dad and Grandpa and all of those others that I loved so dearly in this life.  I’m comforted to know that they will be waiting for me there someday.

It pains me to be without them though. 

I’m left with the pain of missing them as well as the physical pains of mortal life at this age but it occurs to me that my pain, whether emotionally, physically or spiritually turns to prayer.  And prayer turns to hope and hope turns to strength and strength turns to courage and courage turns to peace. A peace like I feel when I watch God sign his name at the end of the day, or…I look out the window now as I type this and it’s snowing.  Quietly, softly, peacefully snowing, pure white prisms, none alike, each a mini masterpiece. And I am in awe.

It's only two days until Christmas and I think again of the Christmas carol “O Little Town of Bethlehem” with my favorite line…”How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given.”  This miracle of peace made possible by the Savior’s birth.

What a gift of peace is waiting for us when we stop in awesome wonder for just a moment or two to observe one of God’s masterpieces. Especially at this joyously busy time of the year.

My most loving wishes for a happy and peaceful and.....

T'was the Week Before Christmas

T'was the week before Christmas and two little girls, 

one blond and one red (the redhead in curls)

Would giggle and squeal as Dad brought in the tree, 

he added lights and glass ornaments to heighten their glee.

Year after year, the routine unaltered, 

became part of the girls’ stability and comfort.

When the lights were emblazoned their joy became song 

as in harmony the girls sang “Oh Tannenbaum”.

The girls became teens; each Christmas was Merry,

‘til Grandma arrived with a gift – they were wary;

She said it was an angel, but twas more like a fairy,

 its dress made of feathers, bright yellow like a canary!

As Dad opened the box, he gasped (I can’t lie). 

Grandma was so pleased she wiped a tear from her eye.

Dad retrieved the said ornament and with love in his heart 

placed it on top of the tree and turned with a start. 

His eye met his kind wife's and she knew just what to say, 

“Oh Grandma, how lovely, we’re so happy today! 

To have a new angel to bless our tree 

and year after year we’ll remember thee!”

Now Grandma had talents, none other was better; 

she could tatt she could quilt she could knit you a sweater.  

Her ability to cook is memorable still; 

her desserts were legendary and made with great skill.

But once a month dear Grandma became prey - 

to the blessed event they called “Homemaking Day”.

The crafts, a bit tacky– we could not escape - 

popcorn roosters, computer-card wreaths and giant glass grapes.

Year after year, Dad donned the top branch 

with the bright yellow fairy for he wouldn’t take a chance,

Of offending his Mother whom he loved with devotion 

– to use something else could cause a commotion.

The girls moved on, they each would soon marry 

and have trees of their own (sans the bright yellow fairy) 

But they hold love in their hearts for their dear little Grandma 

and their wonderful Dad who placed love before drama. 

Each Christmas they decorate their own pretty trees

and with love and remembrance they fall to their knees

and thank Heavenly Father for the years so divine

when their father created these memories sublime, 

for it isn’t the gifts they remember through time, 

it’s the tree and their Dad and it’s all very fine.

And so to all a very Merry Christmas!

 May your own fir-tree with lights blazing green & bright red, 

be topped with a shining bright star instead.  

Giving praise and glory to the Son and our Brother, 

and perhaps some unconditional love for your mother.

My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys

We didn’t bring much to our marriage. Well not in the way of “things" - Love and dreams and happiness were abundant but the sum total of personal belongings carted to our small furnished one-bedroom apartment fit into a single car load. The wedding gifts, which we sorely needed, had been delivered, unwrapped, to our new home by our loving parents while we were on our honeymoon.

Among Dale’s belongings however was a black 3 ring binder. Upon inspection as I put things away, I saw that it was filled with articles from newspapers and magazines about people. People as different as could be. I couldn’t find a connection between them as I quickly scanned the pages.

Intrigued I asked and he replied, “Oh that’s my book of heroes!” And he took the book with a loving respectfulness and showed me each page.  It was then that I found out that my new husband’s first real heroes were cowboys dating from the time he was 5 years old. It was on his 6th birthday that he received a large box among his presents. He said he was so excited, so hopeful, but also so very afraid that he would be disappointed if it wasn't what he'd longed for that he actually waited a few minutes to tear off the ribbon and rip through the colorful wrapping paper. But his birthday wish came true! The box contained chaps, a neckerchief, a cowboy hat, two six shooters in a leather holster and…wait for it….wait for it…..BOOTS...with spurs!  Just like Hopalong Cassidy.

I asked him why cowboys were his heroes and he said it was simple…They were always the good guys.

Many heroes were to find their place in his book over the years. Articles were carefully clipped and urged into plastic inserts and snapped into place. In later years the articles were copied and simply tucked into the binder's front pocket as the binder ring was filled to capacity.

Just last night I came upon his Book of Heroes as I was perusing the book case for something good to read. And it’s clear as I read through the musty old articles collected over 60 long years of his life, that the common thread among all of these people was that they were all good guys, dozens of them, every single one - a good guy.

None of them wore capes, or wielded Rambo-like weapons, none of them had super hero powers.

•   Some were rich financially and did wonderful works of humanitarianism with compassion and sympathy
• Some were poor financially but from their humble situation did wonderful works of caring and helping with compassion and empathy.
•  Some determined a need in the world and created a solution.
•  Some had illnesses but inspired others to live their best.
• Some were athletes who rose through all kinds of trials to succeed.
• Some had Lot-like trials but never lost faith or the ability to smile in order to brighten someone else’s day.
• They were all people who worked hard and had integrity.

And so I carefully and even a bit reverently close the old book and sit back in my chair thinking; “Well this proves it – you become like your heroes”.

And I can honestly say I married one of the good guys.

A Christmas Resolve and Writing Assignment #38 High School part 2

It occurs to me that I've always known that Christmas is December 25. Even as a very young child  I was too excited to sleep just knowing Christmas would be arriving  the next day and I knew full well what day it was because we had been counting down for 24 days on the calendar each day until December 25 arrived – and oh the joy that was ours in those 25 days!

My Dad was Mr. Christmas!  Two little girls waited with great anticipation as the snow fell like giant goose feathers outside our winter wonderland home.  “Here he comes!” Mother would announce as she flung the door open.  With a jolly face of a triumphant hunter of Christmas trees, Dad would bring the very center of our Christmas celebration into the house and across the room to the very spot that he had prepared earlier.  Snow falling off the tree and onto the carpet, but not to worry.  The smell was heavenly and my sister and I would stand together and take great, deep breaths full of the fragrant Scotch Pine.  Dad would sing as he skillfully attached the tree to the stand and up it would go, perfect in size, shape, and freshness.  We would giggle and clap our hands.  

Next, we were put to work.  He laid the lights out onto the carpet in a long string, he plugged them in and if it didn’t work we were to twist each one to see if it was the culprit, was it loose or burned out for good?  The lights were multicolored and in the early years, they were shaped like snowmen or Santa Claus!  Later all the lights were the large teardrop shaped, always colored, red, green, blue and gold with a few oranges mixed in although they were not my favorite but I accepted them anyway.  Once the lights were in perfect order he would tuck them into the soft branches already lit and suddenly, magically, the Christmas season began. 

Next came the ornaments that had been so carefully tucked away and stored with great reverence.  Blown glass German ornaments that cost a fortune today were purchased at the “5 and Dime” in those days.  I loved each and every one of them and Sue and I watched with wonder as Dad carefully placed them in just the right spots. We were allowed to handle them and love them and pointed out bare spots on the tree for Dad to fill.  Oh, how the ornaments glimmered when they were placed near a light!  Next came the silver strand icicles.  Sue and Mother and I held out our arms and Dad draped our share of silver over them.  We were cheerfully instructed on how to place them and we were assigned a branch which we decorated with great pride.  

Skillfully, Dad did the rest and then we stood back and knew that it was a job very well done and again two little girls would clap and giggle with delight.  Dad knew just how to water the tree adding an aspirin and the tree would drink and drink for days, keeping the branches supple and the fragrance heavenly.  Another year, another success and off we’d go to Grandpa ’s house to see his tree.

Now if Dad was Mister Christmas, well Grandpa was Father Christmas!  His tree was always magnificent and he even had Bubble lights!  Some on the tree and even some in a ring around the tree stand!  He would even buy Christmas Logs for the fireplace that would send up gentle flames in red and green with the gold. 

Outside, the roof line of the house was outlined in colored bulbs. A wooden cutout of a larger than life Santa waving his hand to welcome guests stood next to a wooden cutout of a life sized sleigh and life sized reindeer and life sized elves.  All standing in the snow on the front lawn, skillfully illuminated with a soft spot light. Classy they were, not extreme or tacky and expertly made by this carpenter we called Grandpa. The aroma of Grandma’s holiday baking mingled with the scent of the tree.  Candy canes were for the taking and Christmas sheet music awaited my sister and me to play on the piano. 

Two little girls, by means of these cheerful preparations, were taught what Christmas was all about; Celebrating the birth of our Savior with all these symbols to remind us the great commemoration it was. 

Santa would be arriving soon joyfully waving and calling out to us perched upon the shiny red firetruck as he entered the small downtown where we would bundle up against the winter cold and wait in a line with other red nosed, wide eyed children to sit on Santa's knee to make our one Christmas wish.

Ahh, the Christmas wish.  I had given it much thought before climbing up upon Santa’s knee. Only one wish allowed so it had to be the right one. Even then I knew that there were things I wanted but knew I couldn’t have so I fit my wish within the realm of possibilities. So I had given it much consideration.

And now, once again I’m counting down to Christmas. I’ve known it was coming for quite some time so I prepared myself by giving careful thought to my Christmas wish, knowing that I can’t have Dale with me or many of the other things that are out of the current realm of possibilities, I've decided on a good, simple, peaceful one. Simply that I may have peace.

Why is it that I am well aware of December 25^th and make such complete and full preparations and yet  when the candles are lit on my birthday cake and I’m asked to make a wish and blow them out…I’m suddenly surprised and come up with a wish as I inhale and as I exhale I watch the little fire lights flicker out and I already regret that I’m just using the same wish I wished last year and the year before and the year before that…you know…the one that didn’t come true?

And why is it that the act of making New Year's resolutions sneaks up on me? The New Year's Eve party I'm ready for, the New Year's day activities are well planned but each and every year the idea of making resolutions for the new year sneaks up on me and I hustle to come up with a list and sadly, (much like the birthday candle fiascoes) it's almost always the same list which I’m realizing, after many failures, that a list of resolutions scratched out in a hurry-up New Year’s Eve moment are actually just quick wishes with no actual resolve whatsoever, but in my defense, written none the less with good intentions (which I may concede is a step beyond the birthday wish).

I read recently that 90% of the things that we do are based on habits. And achieving success in our resolutions depends upon on making or breaking habits. Or as J. Paul Getty suggests (with a bit of experience I’d say):

The individual who wants to reach the top must appreciate the might and force of habit. He must be quick to break those habits that can break him – and quick to adopt those practices that will become the habits that help him achieve the success he desires.

And Jack Canfield (the author of Chicken Soup for the Soul) instructs:

Whatever habits you currently have established are producing your current level of results. More than likely, if you want to create higher levels of success, you are going to need to drop some of your habits and replace them with more productive habits.  Good or bad habits always deliver results.

Ok!  So I can list my resolutions (or areas for which I desire success) but back it up with what habits I need to change or make in order to be successful. Then add the steps I need to take to work on making/breaking those habits.  Now that’s a more systematic approach and holds a better chance for the hope of “resolution” success rather than just making a list of the desired results!

He goes on to suggest that it’s best to choose just 4 habits to work on in the course of a year since it takes 13 weeks of repeating a behavior for it to become a habit.

So why shouldn’t I make a New Year’s resolution list with only 4 items  (with its accompanying habit to make or break) and then work on one chosen habit each quarter,  working at it gently and kindly but wholeheartedly. Keeping in mind the saying I once heard: “Successful people make it happen - Unsuccessful people make excuses”. So I don’t want to be too kind and understanding to myself while listening to the little voice in the back of my head that is determined to give me permission to make and accept my own excuses.  LOL

Hey, the time is going to pass anyway right?  So between now and New Year’s resolution time (it won’t be a surprise, I know it’s coming December 31st!), I will give some serious thought to my 4 resolutions.

I remember that on that snowy December day so long ago when "little girl me" climbed up on Santa’s lap, I whispered to him that I wanted a doll (the one that I had determined was my one great wish) Her name was Betsy. 

I still have her.

And so while I’m counting down to December 25^th, this year I’ll have a separate countdown to New Year’s Eve and by giving it some genuine thought between now and then…I will be ready to make resolutions I will actually have hope that I can keep. That will surely make for a Happy New Year!

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WRITING ASSIGNMENT #38 - HIGH SCHOOL - PART 2

• Did you have a favorite teacher in High School? How did he or she influence your life?
• Did you have a despised teacher in High School? What effect or influence did he or she have on your life?
• Did you attend your school dances or proms? With whom? Describe them, including the clothes you wore, the type of music that was played, the popular  dance styles etc.
• Tell about your hopes and dreams at this time in your life and what plans you made.
• What was an historic event that took place during "Your generation"? How did it affect you?

I'm sitting here....

I'm sitting here listening to the fireworks being set off by the lake to celebrate the lighting of the town Christmas tree. I guess I could have driven down there to watch, Dale and I did together once and it was a beautiful thing to see.  But today has been a hard day. We had a wonderful Thanksgiving yesterday, even though it seemed as if there was a chair and place setting missing.  Oh how he would have enjoyed the good food and fun conversation.  But today, nothing but quiet time and leftovers. I'm grateful for the leftovers...the quiet time...not so much.

The sound of the fireworks tonight only heightened the intensity of the loss that I thought I had under control, I suppose holidays can do that...and I'm convinced that the beauty of it all would be lacking anyway even if I had driven down there.So I decided to turn on some music to drown out the sound. 

"Hmmm, Hawaiian music should do it!" I mused, deciding that's about as far as I could get from my memories of Christmas by the lake with Dale.  I clicked a song by Keali'i  Reichel just at random...he started to sing...and I lived his words.....

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.
I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.

You used to rock me in the cradle of your arms,
You said you'd hold me till the pains of life were gone.
You said you'd comfort me in times like these and now I need you,
Now I need you, and you are gone.

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.
Since you've gone and left me, there's been so little beauty,
But I know I saw it clearly through your eyes.

Now the world outside is such a cold and bitter place,
Here inside I have few things that will console.
And when I try to hear your voice above the storms of life,
Then I remember all the things that I was told.

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.
I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.

I think on the things that made me feel so wonderful when i was young.
I think on the things that made me laugh, made me dance, made me sing.
I think on the things that made me grow into a being full of pride.
I think on these things, for they are true.

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.
I thought that you were gone, but now I know you're with me,
You are the voice that whispers all I need to hear.

I know a please a thank you and a smile will take me far,
I know that I am you and you are me and we are one,
I know that who I am is numbered in each grain of sand,
I know that I've been blessed again, and over again.

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.
I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
to see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.

I am thankful I had Dale right here with me for as long as I did and grateful for the beauty I saw through his eyes and I'm grateful that he is still the voice that whispers what I need to hear.

You can hear the song here if you'd like...

The View From Here and Writing Assignment #37 High School Part I

I was just a young, new mother when we relocated our little family from Los Angeles to a quiet hamlet bordering a redwood forest near the beautiful coastal city of Santa Cruz. We loved it there; the pristine beauty, the clean air, the peace and quiet.

We moved into a cabin we had rented at the edge of the forest and settled down to domestic bliss; coaxing our baby boy to take his first tottering steps, shopping in the local market for heirloom tomatoes and portabello mushrooms, watering the hanging fern that grew to great lengths thanks to the sunlight that filtered into the large windows that covered the front of our A-Frame home-sweet-home.

As a bonus, it was just a ten mile drive through the forest that brought us to the city and the breathtaking views of the ocean and picnics on the beach and to watch the local surfers.

When Dale was at work I would load the baby and the baby stroller into the ’65 Ford Mustang convertible that I just had to have during a pregnant moment a year before. It was such a sweet little car - destined to be a classic but at that point just a cute old car.  I loved it, in spite of the fact that because of it I learned what a butterfly valve was. When the car wouldn’t start I could pop open the hood, find a small rock to prop open said butterfly valve, go back behind the wheel, turn the key and voila down with the hood and off we would go - baby and me.  Off to a park with a walking trail through the redwoods where we strolled – delightfully enveloped with the silent majesty of the forest and the intoxicating aroma of pine needles. We’d reach what would become my favorite bench - a favorite because it was at the base of one of the largest trees; far enough into the woods to feel magical and far enough into the walk for my baby to have finished his bottle and to be sound asleep allowing me the freedom to pull out a book to read and enjoy those  few exquisite moments of ”me time” that mothers of babies find so elusive.

As Christmas approached we bundled our little family up in parkas and woolen hats, put the top down on the Mustang, laughingly called it our “one horse open sleigh” and drove to the designated spot in the forest where we were allowed to cut down our own tree.  Dale chose one that I feared was much too large but he sawed and chopped and twisted and down it came to the squeals of a one year old and the muffled clapping of Mommy’s gloved hands. Into the car it went sticking way out over the trunk but the little trio happily sang “Dashing Through the Snow in a One Horse Open Sleigh” while Daddy waved goodbye to the attendant and Mommy prayed the tree would stay put in the back of the car until we made it home and up the steep driveway.

In truth, it was a meager Christmas due to the fact that the business that had taken us there, well let’s just say it just didn’t work out. We were determined to go out on our own and make it there anyway but our savings were quickly used up; we had to sell one of our cars, the nice one and despite our best efforts, things were looking grim.

We were being faced with having to move back to the smog and traffic and heat of L.A., having to admit defeat, moving in with my parents and leaving a life we had so carefully chosen and had so enjoyed.

While Dale went to close down his office and then over to pay the final rent on the house, I tucked my baby into his stroller and with tears streaming down my face brought on by an intense sense of loss, fear, disappointment and failure; I went for a final walk in the forest. I pushed my way slowly over the pine needles to the bench at the base of my favorite tree. It was huge, the width of a small car and as tall as a skyscraper. As my son slept, I tucked his blanket under his chin and I leaned back in the absolute silence of the forest. I peered through the branches that reached forever upward and felt a kinship with that tree…my problems were as big as it was! Insurmountable and unconquerable, all seemed lost. How could I possibly do all that would come next?

And then, overhead, just a dot of silver sparkled in the sky many miles above the tree. I squinted my tear filled eyes and watched a glistening jet, high and silent in the brilliant blue pass overhead. And in that instant a thought came to my mind…”The pilot of that plane looking down on this giant tree would see it as being quite small from his vantage point!”  And suddenly, I began to view my vexing problems from a different perspective. A loftier view! In the grand scheme of things this was a challenge to be sure but not the end of the world and certainly not something that I couldn’t handle. A list of the blessings I still had and the potential opportunities ahead populated the optimistic part of my brain and a feeling of peace and of renewed strength flooded my soul… and I bowed my head and whispered “Thank you!” to the compassion and understanding of the most high one who was viewing my problems from a much higher vantage point than even that jet pilot.  I hurried back to the cabin to pack for moving. No more tears, I was ready to turn the page and tackle the next chapter.

Many many chapters later I find myself looking back down on my life from a loftier point of view. The children have grown, the grandchildren are growing, Dale is gone. 

I’ve enjoyed life, tackled many things, bitten off more than I could chew more than once, made good decisions, made some bad ones, suffered through some things (key word here is through), left a few too many things to do until now that should have been done in younger years or should have been done all along…and then…. ”OH DEAR, how can I do it all?” I feel myself begin to panic; I clench the arms of my chair and my mind is whisked away to that moment again... looking up up up at that giant problematic redwood tree in the forest that day so many years ago and just as I wipe away a tear I suddenly get a strong and yet calm directive to look back more closely at my life from the view I have from here and now and with the strength of experience to move ahead without fear to the next chapter.

Once again, I bow my head and whisper “Thank You!” No tears today, I’m ready to turn the page and tackle the rest of this book of life.

I quite like the view from here.

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WRITING ASSIGNMENT #37 - High School Part I

Describe your school (What did it look like?Where was it located?:

What were you called? (ie the Tigers, the Cougars) What were your school colors?

Describe yourself as a teenager (hair style, fashion, idioms, etc. ) What things were important to YOU?

Describe your best friends during high school.

Where did you and your friends spend time after school and what did you do there?

Were you involved in school sports? Clubs? Music..drama...dance?  Tell about them, your biggest successes and flat out failures.

What were your favorite subjects and why and of course the reverse...what subjects did you not like or even hate.

You're Not Alone

I remember the very first day of kindergarten.  For many days leading up to that crucial day I had been educated by every tall person I knew, with the enthusiastic details of the wonderful things I would learn and the fun that I was certain to experience and of the new little people that would instantly become my good friends. Even so it was with a certain amount of trepidation that I entered the class room and not surprisingly it was colorful to be sure, the teacher was kind as was expected but I looked into the wide eyes of the children and other than the little boy who was clinging desperately to a ragged and well- loved stuffed monkey, we were all, each and every one of us, standing there feeling totally and utterly…alone.

What did I do?  I jumped in and figured it out!

That’s the first time I remember that feeling.  That “all alone” feeling that is so familiar to me now.

I remember having it again when I had the lead in the school play “Babes in Toyland” in Junior High. It was my solo and I was suddenly on the stage by myself. The rest of the cast had parted (as was scripted) to the wings and I faced the audience with nothing between us but a song. I was alone.

What did I do?  I SANG! For all of it was worth, I sang my song!

In High School I accompanied the choir and at our concert the solo piano part came, the choir stopped, the director looked at me and the only thing between me and the audience were my fingers on the keys. The moment before the director gave the motion with his baton seemed like a very long and quiet time, all eyes were on me. Me alone!

What did I do, I played; I played my heart out.

It occurs to me that these and many other “all alone” times in my life have helped to prepare me for this one. 

Now, please note that alone time is far different than “Me time”!

“Me time” was that rare snippet of time I fought for and treasured as I slipped into a warm bubble bath surrounded by candles and the wafting trills of classical music while I blissfully let the rest of the world go by outside the door.

I think it was Ronald Reagan who when asked how he liked retirement retorted that retirement meant that every day was the same and frankly that just ruined his weekends!  And so it is that suddenly becoming a widow and being alone for the better part of my days and the full part of my nights has completely and totally squelched the purpose of, the need for and the indulgence in “Me Time”.  It’s not the same now and I must admit… I miss it.

So I’m thinking that I must have known some sort of strategy back in my youth about dealing with being alone that perhaps I need to dust off and revitalize now! Regardless of my efforts -  the standing alone in a crowd or feeling aware of being alone on the center stage in this play I call my life comes around often! It’s a daily anxiety in fact! 

It also occurs to me that I’m not the only one. There is an army of widows and widowers out there as well as people both men and woman who haven’t found their soul mates and feel the serious pangs of aloneness. 

There are children going to the first day of school, teenagers taking their first solo drive in the car, college kids entering their first lectures, adults taking on a new job and people moving to a new town or a new home in an unfamiliar neighborhood.  In fact, we all feel alone at some and actually many times in our lives.  Those moments where we stand as just one human being alone and we are suddenly aware of it. With all of our senses, we feel it.

So at my age I should be an old hand at it by now right? Well, not so much.  So I did a little research, thinking I’d find the advice for the anxiety that children feel upon entering school for the very first time and what I found can be applied to adults at any point of aloneness as well.  Just see if you can’t enter your “feeling alone” situation into the following scenario and consider the advice given as help for us…now!

Helping Your Child Cope with Back-to-School Anxiety

 https://www.anxietybc.com/parenting/helping-your-child-cope-back-school-anxiety

Anxious feelings are normal and expected during times of transition or change. This is especially true for children and teens going back to school, or for first-timers starting kindergarten. This transition can be stressful and disruptive for the entire family!  Prior to the first day of school, your anxious child may cling, cry, have temper tantrums, complain of headaches or stomach pains, withdraw, and become sullen or irritable. 

(So do you see how similar this is to adult loneliness situations?)

Worries are Common. Anxious children and teens worry about many different school-related issues, such as teachers, friends, fitting in, and/or being away from their parents.  Some common worries include:

• Who will be my new teacher? 
• What if my new teacher is mean?
• Will any of my friends be in my class? 
• Will I fit in? 
• Are my clothes OK? 
• Will I look stupid?
• Who will I sit with at lunch?
• What if I miss the bus? 
• What if I can’t understand the new schoolwork?
• What if something bad happens to mom or dad while I am at school?                                 

(Yup, all of those things still are part of our adult anxieties!)

Although it is normal for your child to have worries, it is crucial to make your child attend school. Avoidance of school will only increase and reinforce your child’s fears over the long-term, and make it increasingly more difficult to attend.  Besides missing school work, children and teens who stay home because of anxiety miss: 

• valuable opportunities to develop and practice social skills
• important chances for success and mastery
• being acknowledged and praised for talents
• fostering close friendships with classmates

Most importantly, anxious children and teens who miss school cannot gather evidence that challenges their unrealistic and catastrophic fears!

(OK I’m not talking about going back to school here…but getting out in the world?... pretty much the same right?)

How To Deal With Back-to-School Worries!  

Below are some general strategies parents can use to deal with back-to-school worries, followed by a schedule leading up to the first day of school.

  

Look after the basics.  

Nobody copes well when they are tired or hungry. Anxious children often forget to eat, don’t feel hungry, and don’t get enough sleep. Provide frequent and nutritious snacks for your child during this time, you also need to build in regular routines, so that life is more predictable for your child. These routines can involve the morning and bedtime habits, as well as eating schedules. Encourage your child to share his or her fears.  

Ask your child what is making him or her worried. Tell your child that it is normal to have concerns. Before and during the first few weeks of school, set up a regular time and place to talk. Some children feel most comfortable in a private space with your undivided attention (such as right before bed, or during mealtime). Teens often welcome some sort of distraction to cut the intensity of their worries and feelings (such as driving in the car, or taking a walk).   

Avoid giving reassurance...instead, problem-solve and plan!  Children often seek reassurance that bad things won’t happen in order to reduce their worry. Do not assure them with “Don’t worry!” or “Everything will be fine!” Instead, encourage your child to think of ways to solve his or her problem. For example, “If (the worst) happens, what could you do?” or “Let’s think of some ways you could handle that situation.” This gives you the opportunity to coach your child on how to cope with (and interpret) both real and imagined scary situations. You will also be giving your child the tools he or she needs to cope with an unexpected situation that might arise.

(I’m so loving this advice!)

Focus on the positive aspects!  Encourage your child to re-direct attention away from the worries, and towards the positives. Ask your child, "What are three things that you are most excited about on your first day of school?" Most kids can think of something good, even if it's just eating a special snack or going home at the end of the day. Chances are that the fun aspects are simply getting overlooked by repetitive worries.   

Pay attention to your own behavior. It can be anxiety-provoking for parents to hand over care and responsibility of their child to teachers. Children take cues from their parents, so the more confidence and comfort you can model, the more your child will understand there is no reason to be afraid. Be supportive yet firm.  When saying goodbye in the morning, say it cheerfully – once!  Ensure you don’t reward your child’s protests, crying, or tantrums by allow him or her to avoid going to school. Instead, in a calm tone, say: “I can see that going to school is making you scared, but you still have to go. Tell me what you are worried about, so we can talk about it.”  Chances are, your child is anxious about something that requires a little problem-solving, role-playing, planning, and/or involvement from the teacher.  

(Since I’m both the parent and the child in this scenario…I need to consider both sides carefully!)

I’m taking strength in the realization that in my quest to conquer the stigma of being alone I am in fact…not alone!  And I have been in training for this since…well since kindergarten.

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I'll restart the autobiography writing assignments next Thursday, I hope you'll use the time to catch up! 

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time (a smidgen over a week ago) there was a Grandma who decided that nothing would make her quite so happy as to have a good visit with her grandchildren and their mommy and dad. 

So she got up really early, before the sun was even awake and she loaded her suitcase into her car, drove to the airport and got on a plane. In fact she got onto a very big plane and settled down into her seat and said, “This will be wonderful!”

The plane rolled out onto the runway and Grandma looked out the window excited with anticipation to see the ground going by so very fast and looked forward to being able to feel the plane rise up into the clouds but instead of taking off  - the plane slowed down and the pilot made an announcement…

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it seems we are having some mechanical issues up here in the cockpit and we need to return to the airport and have you all get out and get into another plane.”

“Oh too bad!” said Grandma.  But if that’s what it took to get to see her grand-kids then she was okay with that.

Many hours later the new plane had arrived at the gate and Grandma followed the single file line onto the plane and once again buckled herself into a seat by the window.

This time the plane took off speeding down the runway and then with a rumble and a bump they were up and they soared over the forest and they flew over the farmlands and passed over a great desert until they landed at an airport somewhere halfway between her home and the children’s home and she had to wait for yet another plane to take her the rest of the way to her family.

Many hours later she was on a new plane, her third one, she buckled her seat belt and looked out of the window at the setting sun. Up Up Up they went and she looked down at more desert and then ranch land passing beneath them as the sun slowly sank on the horizon.

But then she couldn’t see anything at all, It was dark now and Grandma had journeyed through two time zones in order to be with her little ones.

Suddenly lights, lots and lots of lights shining up from a big city.  Time to land!

Daddy (Grandma’s wonderful son) met her at the airport and after a big hug; he loaded her suitcase (that was stuffed with presents for her grandkids and grandkitty) into the back of his car. It was after midnight when they arrived home so Grandma didn’t get to see the little ones until morning.  But then, Oh what fun they had!!

Together they laughed and they played and all of Grandma’s dreams came true.

For one whole week the days were filled with love and happiness and treasured experiences.

And then one morning, before the sun came up and as the children still slept soundly in their beds, Mommy drove Grandma to the airport.  All of the hugs and goodbyes and tears had been shed the night before.

A few hours later, Grandma buckled herself into her seat by the window and breathed a heavy sigh. “My that was wonderful” she said.  And she closed her eyes until take off.

Flying through the air once again, she looked down from her window and watched ranchlands and then deserts and then farmlands pass beneath her and finally, after many many hours she saw the forest again.  She was home.

Her car was waiting for her in the airport parking lot. It started right up and Grandma said, “Oh thank you, you wonderful car, my good good friend.”

There was a little rain falling on the windshield as she drove away which felt very much like teardrops but Grandma refused to feel sad.  She started to sing, like she always does when she doesn’t want to be sad..”Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day (what a day) I’ve got a beautiful feeling...everything’s going my way”

As she drove closer to home her heart leaped a little in joy. Home is a good place to be. She was happy to see that the trees were still wearing their coats of many autumn colors in her absence and it brought a sense of comfort and welcome as she drove by them.

Home now, she pulled her suitcase out of the car and pulled up the handle. It followed her easily inside the door of the kitchen.  She stopped to inspect what she saw there. Everything was just as she had left it.

And it was quiet.

Oh So Quiet.

So very Very Quiet.

So awfully, terribly quiet.

No kitten playing peek-a-boo; no children doing handstands and flips or playing games of Sorry or Chess; no Son saying so many interesting things to make her marvel and feel so very proud, no World Series games playing in the background;  no daughter-in-law making caramel apples or braiding a little one’s hair. And there would be no family prayer tonight, no “Goodnights!”and “I love you’s!”, No hugs or kisses when tucking the little ones under their blankets.

Grandma sat down in her big comfortable chair. She quickly vetoed the thought of making dinner for one.

She was alone and the loneliness felt like heaviness in the air.  The way a thick fog feels in the early morning.

She knew the feeling well. It has been her constant companion since Grandpa died. She had developed many tricks and techniques to fight and avoid this terrible lonliness but she couldn’t think of any of them right now.

She realized she was too tired to cry and too tired to fight it so she closed her eyes and dreamed of all of the happy things they had done together. She thought of her granddaughter looking like an Olympian on the balance beam at the gymnastic meet and winning the overall GOLD Medal, she will now go on to State, it’s a really big deal.  Grandma dreamed of playing chess with her 6 year old grandson and going trunk or treating with him - so handsome in his Ninja Halloween costume. She dreamed of walking through the beautiful art museum with her son and eating crepes at a Parisian restaurant. She dreamed of being in awe as her daughter-in-law told her of the incredible things she was accomplishing at her work. She dreamed of dinners of smoked salmon and of the clever things that were said around the dinner table and the daily hugs and the laughter and the tender moments.

Grandma woke up with a smile several hours later and once again decided as she had decided before that she was definitely alone but she didn’t HAVE to be lonely.  Especially not now that she has more happy memories just behind her eyelids when she closes them each night.

For it was all just as wonderful as she had hoped it would be.

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And so this journey of being alone continues. To my surprise and with a fair amount of consternation... It’s an ongoing process with as many emotional twists and turns as the plane ride I just took and it takes “action” and a good plan to deal with loneliness and loneliness inevitably leads to that tool of the adversary...Discouragement.. Sadly, the plan to ignore it doesn’t make it go away it only allows it bloom like sugar poured onto yeast.   

 I just have to keep going, keep working on it, even if I don’t feel like it or even if I feel weak.  I glance over at the post-it note on my calendar, it reads: “You Brave, Brave Warrior You” and it gives me courage. I am once again aware (and it's something that amazingly requires a constant reminder) that even a little Encouragement, however you can get it, is a powerful antidote against the poison of the most dreaded emotion...Discouragement.  And I move on with a plan while I also remind myself that at any given time if Plan “A” doesn’t work…there are still 25 more letters in the alphabet. And it’s OK for me to use all of them if needed!

I Want to Hold Your Hand and Writing Assignment #36 - Holidays

An interesting side effect of living alone is the realization of how much you can actually miss the human touch.  I mean I communicate all day long via social media and phone conversations but none of that equals the satisfaction of a heartfelt touch.

I looked at my hand the other day, wiggled my fingers, sighed and whispered to the air “Oh Dale, I wish I could just feel your hand on mine!  I miss that!”

And I heard his voice say in a quiet but earnest tone, “Oh how much I miss that too!”

How very odd that I hadn’t thought of that before.  Perhaps I just think that he is in a better place and things are all pretty wonderful. And…I’m sure they are, he’s not in pain any longer, and he’s with a society filled with his family and ancestors that he learned to respect and love throughout his life because of their great stories of faith and courage. But of course, and it seems so obvious, now that I think about it, he can’t touch me any more than I can touch him!  I backed off from feeling sorry for myself and began embracing the loss that he is experiencing and wishing I could comfort him.

It made me wonder what else he is missing.  What else can we do on earth that a spirit who once lived and worked and loved and played here can’t do now?

There were so many things he loved here.  Things that I know he didn’t take with him because I had to deal with them after he died!  Through many tears and hard work I either gave them to loved ones, donated them to those who were in need or kept them for my own need to feel close to him.  But the fact remains, he didn’t take even one of those treasured things with him! 

I remember walking through the Metropolitan Museum in New York City seeing the exhibits and collections of treasures that had been placed in burial chambers of ancient kings to accompany them to the afterlife.  Since I was walking by these items thousands of years later and thousands of miles from where they had been placed in the burial chambers but removed for protection from looters or the ravages of time, it was fairly clear to me that the kings had not actually taken those opulent and treasured belongings with them into the afterlife either.

So what did they take?  What do we take from this life?

I don’t believe that “things” are that important to Dale now. But wanting to bounce a little grandson on his knee or swing him up onto his shoulders for a ride or to feel the sweet kiss of his precious granddaughter or get a hug from his all-grown-up son who is a man now, or giving aid to someone less fortunate, or as I felt that morning, just holding my hand; these are precious earthly things that can only be experienced here with our mortal ability to reach out and touch.

Those chances to touch and to experience life, to learn, to make choices and grow, to give of ourselves and become who we knew we could be before we came here.  These are all earthly delights to be treasured and enjoyed here.

My mind seemed to open up to other concepts.

I felt like regardless of how much time we have here that we shouldn’t spend it simply “enduring to the end” although that is important. The idea is not simply getting to the other side, it’s getting as much out of life (and I’m not talking about adventure per se but learning and giving and developing and understanding) as much as we can, right up to our final days.

So how do I do that? I pondered.  And then it occurred to me that I do and have for as long as I can remember, make a To-Do list each night for the following day.  I realized that the majority of the entries, although important and extremely necessary are things that are required to "survive" and just a few things were written in that would fit into the category of "to thrive".  So I decided I would make a division on my daily To-Do list.  One titled "Survive" and one titled "Thrive".  

In my mind’s eye I saw myself packing my bags for a trip to heaven. Not with earthly treasures but with experiences, knowledge, good works and wisdom joyfully obtained right up to the very end. Filling each invisible valise with the many real treasures of life, including the sweet memory that was the absolute joy of simply....holding hands. 

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WRITING ASSIGNMENT #36 - HOLIDAYS

Describe how Holidays were spent in your childhood home.

The sights, the sounds, the smells, the tastes the activities, the worship.  Who all were there? What did the holiday mean to you?

Describe how Holidays are spent in your home now.  What do you do in your home today that reflects (or rejects) this childhood experience? (Don't forget to express why)

Tell of your most memorable Christmas and New Years and Thanksgiving.  And don't forget National Holidays and birthdays!

Have fun with this one!