Ash Wednesday 2012

Another Lent begins.  Another time to clear out the spiritual cobwebs.  Some give up something for Lent.  Others take on a new spiritual practice.  What keeps us from God?  What will bring us closer?

Last year after my struggle with breast cancer I decided to give up suffering for Lent.  I felt I'd suffered enough with all the things that come with a cancer diagnosis.  Suffering found me in ways that I couldn't have imagined. In March, Hazzard, my sixteen year-old cat died.  He had kidney disease and so his passing wasn't a surprise, it was just painful.  He was an old friend.  He didn't want to be alone when he died and so he died in my arms.  That was hard, that was difficult, but I was shocked at the suffering that was to come.  

Losing a pet is like losing one of the family but it doesn't compare to the loss of someone from the human family.  In April Andrew was killed in a motorcycle accident three days from his twenty-fifth birthday.  He was part of our neighborhood's extended family.  He and his sisters and my son and daughters would migrate from house to house, usually the boys at one and the girls at the other.  I watched him while his parents worked.  As a young man he moved into the house next door to me and started raising his son.  He later moved to a different spot in the neighborhood later but I would see him skateboarding with his dog down the street or taking his son sledding.  "Hi Andrew."  "Hi Cheryl".  And then he was gone, dead, abruptly dead.  It was like I had been kicked in the gut.  This year I am not giving up suffering.

The first reading for Ash Wednesday from the prophet Joel tells us:

Even now, says the LORD,
return to me with your whole heart,
with fasting, and weeping, and mourning;
Rend your hearts, not your garments,
and return to the LORD, your God.

I've approached this Lent with a different attitude.  I am ready to do what I usually do.  I am giving up something that I can give up (don't ask me to give up coffee)  and something that is keeping me from spending time with God and from following his command to "love one another".  I am giving up Facebook and Twitter for the duration and plan to use the extra time gained getting closer to God and to my friends.  It's time to do a little face-to-face or telephoning or physical letter writing to get closer to the people that I love.  I guess the old fashioned ways of communicating are something that I will take up for Lent.  I'm going to try to work against the excuses for not spending dedicated time with God.

These actions won't keep suffering from knocking at my door but they will lead to a healthier relationship with God.  Peace be with you this Ash Wednesday.

  

Mrs. Dermody, Language Police

The other day one of my customers told me she was proud of me.  I was puzzled and asked her what she meant.  She said that she has watched me since I returned to work a year ago. Her husband has been in remission and has gone through cancer treatment and she was pleased at how well I was doing.  I told her that  there wasn't anything that I had done to make me well again.  Others have fought the same battle and have lost. I still survive and don't feel special just grateful.  I just played the hand I was dealt.

The language police part of me that wanted to take the compliment apart.  I looked up the definition of pride in Dictionary.com which says that "It may refer to an affectionate admiration or a justifiable pride concerning someone else."  Oh, that's what she meant, an affectionate admiration.  I was more thinking along the lines of justifiable pride like when I'm proud of my kids. Okay, thanks, which is what I should have said in the first place.

Honoring the Dead: A letter to Dad

Hi Dad,
It's been eleven years since you died at age 89 on November 4, 2000.  You would be 100 years old by now and we'd probably still be driving each other crazy.  Ah, we drove each other crazy but how we loved each other.  Your death was not unexpected.  You had been in and out of the hospital that last year more times than I could count.  After  much deliberation you decided to go into assisted living but you didn't stay there long until you were in the hospital again.  You were to go to a nursing home to get you back on your feet but you knew you were dying of emphysema and you were tired of fighting.  We weren't ready to let you go but had to listen when you decided to go with comfort measures only.

I got the call to come home to Moses Lake to come see you.  I came over on a Greyhound Bus with enough clothes to last me a couple of days.  I ended staying much longer.  I called my manager at my new job at Barnes and Noble in Seattle and told her the situation.  She said, "Take as long as you need."  I began participating in the vigil at your bed.  My oldest brother and I took the day shift.  My youngest brother and sister took the night shift.  My middle brother couldn't come because he had already taken off a lot of time from work during the year and couldn't manage any more.  My aunt flew in to see you one last time.  She had been very young when her father died and as big sister's husband you helped fill the roll. We kept you company on your journey.  On that last night the nurse told us we'd better call everyone because you would probably die that night.  We gathered around your bed, sons, daughters, grandsons, so that we could help you with your journey.  The nurse told us to keep talking to you even if you didn't seem responsive; you would know that you were not alone.  You died.  A young friend of the family and of yours had us make a circle of prayer around you.  You were in a place where you didn't have to labor to breathe.  You were Home.

I miss you, Dad.  I miss talking about the weather on the phone with you.  You often wanted us to send some of our Seattle rain to the dry-lands.  We didn't see eye-to-eye on religion or politics.  It was much safer to talk about rain; on that we could agree.  Oh, I want you to know that we take better care of our car now.  Mr. D and I take it in for regular maintenance so maybe you wouldn't remind us that you told us that the Dodge that died needed looking at.  Yup, we shoulda listened, but you know how kids are.

Love you lots and lots,
C

Honoring the Dead: A Letter to Andrew

Dear Andrew,

It's been half a year since you died.  It was in the spring time and it seemed so out of character for Spring to be a season of sadness.  Most of the people that I have mourned die in the fall or winter. You died on a rainy night in April; it was almost a monsoon.  You took your motorcycle.  I wish you could have taken the Volvo.  Whenever I ask myself why you had to die I have to remind myself that it was a dark and stormy night and the road was slick.  The other driver didn't see you.  When you were little your family had a bird that got caught by the family cat.  Your sister cried, "Why, why did the bird have to die."  You answered, "Because the cat had sharp teeth and claws".  There was no cosmic conspiracy.  It was just life.

A lot has been happening since you passed.  Did you know that they finally have that new skateboard park at Delridge.  I remember you riding up and down the street on your skateboard.  You would have liked the park.  I would love to see you flying up and down those curves. You have a new brother-in-law and a new niece.  One of your sisters got married one day in August; the other had a baby the next.  It's amazing how much sorrow and joy were packed into such a brief time for your family.  Your son is growing into an amazing three year-old.  You, your son's mom, and your parents have done a fantastic job!

I miss you so much.  Every time I see someone dressed like you I see you.  When you died I begged God to give you back.  I knew that wasn't possible in the grand scheme of things but I asked the way a child would ask a parent to fix something that is hopelessly broken.  I watched you grow up alongside my children.  I took care of you while your parents worked. You were almost a brother to my kids and you were almost a son to me.  I'm glad that you were a part of my life.

Love,
C

Honoring the dead

Today is the Feast of All Saints.  Tomorrow is the Feast of All Souls.  November is the month in which the Catholic Church turns its eyes toward our beloved dead.  At Holy Rosary we have been invited to put pictures of loved ones who have died on a special table to honor them.  We believe that death is not the end.  We pray for the dead and they pray for us.  In this change of seasons as the light turns to darkness for more hours, the leaves turn beautiful colors, and the weather grows colder I am drawn toward remembering those whom I have lost.  I am writing letters this month to the dead to honor their very special place in my heart.  Stay tuned.

Reading recommendation time

I've read many good books lately.  My Kindle has been very busy.

Please Look After Mom by Kyung-Sook Shin
A mother with dementia goes missing at a train station.  It's told from many points of view.

Before I Go to Sleep: A Novel by S.J. Watson
A woman's memories are lost every time she goes to sleep.  She must become reacquainted with her husband each morning.  She hides a diary so that she can make sense of her life.  Is her husband hiding something?  A hard to put down thriller.

Dreams of Joy: A Novel by Lisa See
A continuation of the story in Shanghai Girls which was also fantastic.  A young American Chinese woman runs away to China during the time of Mao to get away from the mother that she's just found out is her aunt.  She finds life very different from the Chinese utopia she imagines.

The Leftovers by Tom Perrotta
People disappear in what might be the Rapture.  This is nothing like the Left Behind series.  This is actually well written.  Those "leftover" try to continue with their lives some by joining a the Guilty Remnant whose members dress in white, take a vow of silence, and must smoke cigarettes.

Children and Fire: A Novel and Stones from the River by Ursula Hegi.  I had enjoyed Stones from the River many years ago so when Children and Fire came out I had to read it.  Some of the characters are in both books.  They deal with the first world war, the depression Germany had afterwards, and the resulting Third Reich.  Both show how simple it is to be eased into evil and the price of its resistance.  I re-read Stones from the River and realized once again how excellent it was.  You don't need to read one book to understand the other but do yourself a favor and read both of them.

Then They Came for Me: A Family's Story of Love, Captivity, and Survival by Maziar Bahari and Aimee Malloy.  I saw Mr. Bahari on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart speaking about his ordeal in Iran during and after the elections in Iran.  He went there to report on a most exciting time of hope for great change and ended up imprisoned and tortured in Evin prison. He survived by remembering his father and his sister who had suffered in Iran's most notorious prison in the past under different leaders

Enjoy, friends.

A Happy Birthday

Let's just get this out of the way.  The 58th anniversary of my birth fell on the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.  I wonder if people born on December 7th (Pearl Harbor anniversary) have the same sort of problem I do.  People wonder if I should be bummed about having my birthday on such a solemn day.  I answer that I was born long before those terrorists were in diapers.  I mourn the state the world is in but I celebrate my birthday.

Last year I was really sick from chemo for my birthday and couldn't enjoy it at all.  Although there is something to be said about being alive to celebrate one's birthday, so last year had something going for it after all.  This whole summer I've been grateful for the contrast between this year and last year.  This year Lady and I can walk as far as we want.  I can let nature unfold all around us.  I felt like I totally missed last summer.  Bed is no substitute for walking along the creek listening to birdsong and reveling in the joy of life.  My birthday weekend was great this year.  After work on Saturday Martin took me to A Terrible Beauty, a new Irish pub in West Seattle.  I had a couple of pint of Harps and I even had cake for dessert!  Then yesterday on my birthday proper the festivities continued.  My friend Moe from church made a card for me, there were lots of happy birthdays on Facebook, my son called from Oakland, my daughter on the road texted me, my brother called me,  and my oldest daughter and her husband took Mr. D and me out for dinner at The Rusty Pelican in Wallingford.  Ahhh, satisfaction.