Tag: Writing

A to Z Challenge: Chance

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He had ridden his bike for 20 minutes in the sweltering heat so his dark skin was wet with tiny droplets, which he quickly dispatched with the bottom of his T-shirt.

“How ya doin?” he said with an enthusiasm she could hardly imagine him having. She noticed he was sniffing in the direction of the kitchen. “Cookin’ up somethin good tonight?”

He was a pretty good cook himself, an expert actually, at the kind of food he liked best. When he was given free reign in the kitchen there was usually a lot of tasty fried chicken, and a lot of greasy pans to wash.

But he wasn’t there for the kitchen. The piano was where he was headed. He slid to the middle of the bench and started chording and doing small riffs with a rhythm right out of a black church choir. That’s where he had taken a job, at the St. Stephen’s African Methodist Episcopal Church. Too many names to even fit on the sign.

He had started experimenting with the keyboard after coming to a small hymn sing in the park near his home. His name was Chance, and that’s what she had offered him, a chance to learn. He was short for his 13 years of growing, and there was one hand that hadn’t grown normal fingers, not that it kept him from learning the chords he was taught. He loved playing on the black keys – his fingers had no trouble landing on those.

“You going to teach me to read notes today. We got to work on that. They want me to be able to play printed music and I’m fakin’ it now.”

He could listen to a tune and play it accurately after one go. With soul. But he wasn’t familiar with a lot of church music and had to hear it played first. That’s what she did for him. “Wish I could do like that Miss Allie. Let me hear that verse part again.” But no matter what the lesson was, he would end up playing his favorites, quickly tiring of practicing notes on lines and spaces.

He would make it look so easy, going up and down the keyboard with chord progressions that were not the usual, but so compelling. She had told him that the piano was in the percussion family of instruments – hammers hitting strings inside a box – but his brand of percussion was foot on the pedal. It felt like the room was moving, and more than once she had to remind him to go easy. He had broken the inner workings of the sustain pedal once already.

He sang too. Quite well.

It was the beginning of a long acquaintance that branched out into lots more than music. Not all of it was easy or pleasant, but his optimism and bravado rarely failed him. Well, there was that one time…

A to Z Challenge: A for Alice

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Character sketches that are fictional but based on real characters, like us.

She knew she tended to overthink things. What a contrast now that she had trouble thinking at all. She watched the cat eat leaves off her favorite house plant, again. She wasn’t jumping up and chasing it away anymore. It hadn’t died yet and was possibly getting some nutrient it needed. Have to like a proactive cat.

And then there was her husband, who lay nearly comatose 90% of the time, making no decisions, proactive or otherwise. She had been deciding everything for him for the last four months since he had come home from the hospital and into Hospice care, in their living room. They weren’t all hard decisions. Medication schedules, toileting, when to give tube feedings – all that could be evaluated and changed if it needed to be and she had practice making those decision for previous patients. Sometimes the combined weight of them did make a difference in her energy level or kept her from sleeping well at night. But they were, after all, the easier things to decide.

What she struggled with was the fact that they had decided, after the stroke, to intervene. By “they”, she meant “he”, because it was still his choice. Ever since his earlier diagnosis of Lewy Body dementia, he had been waiting for God to heal him. He didn’t want to take himself out of the game before God got around to it. She was pretty sure he had made the decisions for the ventilator, the feeding tube, and rehab, even though it had already begun to feel like she was making them.

But now, it was pretty clear that decisions were on her. She was deciding to take really good care of him, and thereby prolonging considerable misery. The misery was more hers than his. Watching his decline was not fun, but he seemed unaware of his condition. Just that morning she had been orienting him to where he was, where he had been and how long he had been ill.

“Can I spit on the ground?” he asked.

“You better not because we’re in the house. You don’t want to spit on the floor.”

“But I can open the car door and spit on the ground, can’t I?”

“Yes, if we were ever in the car. But that hasn’t been happening for months. The only way you’ve gone anywhere lately is by ambulance. We stay home all the time now. You haven’t been in the car for nearly a year.”

“What a boring lifestyle”, he said in his weak, barely intelligible voice. He was grinning and looking at her for approval, like he had done all their married life. This time, instead of rolling her eyes, she laughed with him and wondered if it would be the last time he tried to tell her a joke.

She believed there was a kind way to explain to him that he might actually be dying. So far, her attempts had not been successful.

There were times when she felt she wasn’t taking good care of him too. She would get lost in a jigsaw puzzle and forget his feeding time. She would turn down the noise in the monitor in order to get another hour of much needed sleep. All those guilt producing moments. But, she was sensible enough to know that she had to take care of herself in order to take care of him. Everybody told her that, and it helped to hear it from others, even though they didn’t really know how that worked out.

Was she depressed? Not really. Sad, for sure, and tired. Tired enough to pray that it be over soon. And even though she had all kinds of questions about God’s timing, she was, ultimately, content with him calling the shots.

The Last Day (of 2022)

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My “second brain” planner

Most every year, during the month of December, I carry two planners around with me. One is for the present year, and one is for the year to come because I am often planning ahead. That’s what planners are for. The last day of December often finds me closing out one and looking back over the fading year. I am doing that today.

The first half of the year was filled with quiet routine. The husband was housebound except for a few rides in the car and a restaurant meal now and then. We had a regular habit of reading in the mornings and sharing thoughts on what we’d read. Evenings often included him getting a wheelchair ride around the community.

I enjoyed the seasons – skiing in the winter, gardening in the spring and, most of all, planning for our August family reunion.

While family was arriving in late July, the husband had a stroke. Before that time I often wondered how his diagnosis of Lewy Body dementia would play out. He was obviously experiencing symptom progression but so slowly. I thought he was dependent on me in some ways, but little did I realize that being able to walk at all, and being able to eat are very independent activities. He was still doing those things at will, and amusing himself during the day with tv, phone calls, and books.

The stroke took all of that away. What followed was 25 days in ICU, 5 days in a step down unit, 49 days in acute care rehab hospital, 26 days in skilled care rehab, and 24 days in a nursing home. I’ve been sitting here with my planner counting up the days and marking the events. Most of these places were 90 minutes away from home. The last was only half an hour away. I’ve put thousands of miles on the car. I was weary of traveling and welcomed bringing him home. This is his 29th day at home, the 17th day under hospice care.

I am the primary caregiver, although we do have around 15 hours of care each week from CNAs hired privately. That is the summary of the second half of 2022 for the husband and me. It’s been a year to remember.

I can’t say that I have felt like writing much during this time. Occasionally it has been an emotional release. I might also like to have record of what we have gone through, at some later date when memory fails me. But much of it I would like to forget. Ten years ago I would not have imagined living the life I have now.

Should I say something about God and his part in the road we’re on? I see him as having been very patient and understanding of my fatigue, my not want to think deeply, or pray consistently, or immerse myself in scripture every day. In some ways I am numb to those disciplines in much the same way as a young mother with a house full of toddlers. God sees what overwhelms his humans. He sends me out on a “walk and talk” and I will tell you that the natural world has been my lifeline this year.

Lots of privacy out here and a real sense of who I am praying to as I walk. No denying he has a sense of beauty.

He sits with me when I cry. He gives me words for the husband when calming and encouragement is needed. When action is called for he has given me the thought of what must be done and the energy to do it. He has given me assurance about all the confusing and uncertain things – that I can trust him and decide not to fear, not to blame.

Many friends have said they are praying for us, and have reminded me of that often. That has weight with me. This is not the first time that prayer has been important to me, but still it is a mystery how God uses it. I want to be involved in that mystery, not necessarily to understand it, but just to have a part in it. Somehow God attaches great power to prayer and I love to see him be powerful , up close and personal.

I think it was good that we asked God for healing for Dennis. Why would we not? But it is also okay that he has not been healed because perfect health is not the only blessing God can bring with a hard experience. And we have always known that we will die at some time – it’s just the end part of being human. We will not waste the experience by becoming bitter or turning away from the most exciting relationship humanity has ever been offered. No, neither Dennis nor I feel any disappointment with God, or the way he has exhibited his friendship with us.

He has been “with” us. Sometimes he has been a peaceful presence on my walks. Sometimes he has sent others to us to spend time or offer help. I’m often told that I’m not alone and have felt like saying “Well, I feel pretty alone in spite of what you say.” But now I receive that differently. God puts that sentiment on the lips of others to remind me that he is with me, even when people are not. That’s enough. He is not named “Immanuel” for no reason.

Thoughts on a Snowy Day

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It’s February. I’m sitting next to the window watching winter storm Nancy and the air is white and swirling with the snow. For the last day I’ve gone out periodically to shovel the walk between my house and Mom’s. It doesn’t do a lot of good because of the drifting, but perhaps it won’t be quite as deep when it finally stops falling.

Thank you God, for kitchen windows, for entertaining squirrels.

I’m also making bread. It’s in a warm place rising right now. I have a kitchen counter where I can look out a window at my bird feeders. I should say animal feeders because the squirrels and rabbits are there too. There is much about this time that is very nice.

I’m to consider the following questions today, in preparation for a guided group zoom tomorrow. A bunch of writers, including me, are trying to think deeply about who they are writing for and what their message is.

1. What do I know about my ideal reader and message? Answer: Not much. The people who give me the most feedback are personal friends, and a few others who seem to be around my age. Baby Boomers are starting to be introspective as they think of themselves as elderly. The messages they tend to like are along the lines of “you’re not dead yet. What you do will probably look different from when you did it at 20, and it may kill you, but you can still do stuff if you try.”

2. Is there anything about exploring this that makes me nervous or uncomfortable? Answer: Yes. I wonder about all the readers that I don’t ever hear from. I think there are a lot of different kinds of people reading that don’t say anything and I wish I could be more engaging. I wish I could know that I’m striking a chord or answering a need for encouragement.

3. What do I like to write about or talk about? I like to talk about the natural world because the bottom line is WONDER. I always arrive at the point of looking for God in what he has created, and that includes humans and their stories. The list of what I consider the “natural world” is pretty long. That is why my blog subjects are so eclectic. It might be snowflakes one day, a walk in the forest the next, a conversation with my mom, and today it might be making bread. To me, everything has a connection to the Creator.

4. How would I describe myself? I am outwardly calm, quiet, attentive, and resourceful. Inwardly, I often feel “less than” and insignificant, and in need of being reminded that I am unique, valued and loved. I think a lot of people feel that way. I would love it if my writing could give people the reassurance they need in those areas.

5. What do I know about my personality and how does that affect my writing? I am primarily an introvert, but I can step outside that when I need to, on a good day. I don’t mind being around a lot of people but my love is having good conversation with one at a time. I’m a helper type, always picking up on people’s needs and wanting to assist. It’s actually easier for me to decide to help someone else than it is to do my own hard work – that definitely affects my writing. Writing is hard work.

6. How do people describe me? Ask! Answer: I have asked but it’s hard to get responses to that question. It’s work to think about someone else and give an honest, serious assessment. I tested myself on that and find it difficult to describe others. So, I get it. No judgment. I always appreciate feedback and wish there were more of it. See question 2.

Have you ever tried to describe yourself, to yourself or others? How did that seem to you?

New Skills, New Thrills

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Yes, I’m actually learning something new. I am on a launch team for a new book coming called Raising Prayerful Kids.

I chose to help with this particular launch because it deals with two of my primary interests – prayer and children. What a great pairing! I will get a sneak peek at the book which doesn’t come out until 3/8/22. I can think of so many good places to promote this topic and will be working hard to do just that.

I’ve learned that getting a book out in the world is a real job, and it goes better if you have something called a launch team. Who knew? I didn’t. This is the first time I’ve ever helped with something like this. I’m finding it quite interesting. You can apply and join too, if you feel like helping this book get known. The application to join is here https://forms.gle/1Ky3kpUUY6KXDtKJ6

Launch team is closing soon so check it out if you want to know more.

When I Don’t Have to Wait

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It’s a strange, hard world out there. It’s time we fight back with a little fun. I have lots of thoughts on the subject and will be writing about it for the rest of October.

Everywhere we turn these days there is something to wait for. I wait in traffic, at the grocery store, for commercials to quit, for the spooling to stop, for food to be cooked, for my hair to dry, for sleep to come, for the headache to go away. What surprises me though, is that I find myself waiting for things I don’t have to wait for – out of habit, I guess. It is a habit I am setting out to conquer.

On this beautiful evening, calm, warm enough to sit outside, I’m not waiting to light a fire in my Solo Stove. Making fire (small and controlled) and watching the flames has always been fun for me so I followed the fun and started my fire. I knew I would love this little fire pit, but I can see that if I waited for others to come enjoy it with me, I would not be getting much use out of it. I do like to invite others to sit around the fire, but that usually involves some planning ahead. When it’s only me, I could be doing it any night when the weather is nice, even without a plan. Why wait?

Waiting can be a good thing, right? Why? Because I have to let the people in line before me go first (unless I want to get thrown out of the store…). Because the food tastes better when it’s cooked long enough. Because things work out better when I match my desires with right timing, right circumstances, right preparedness. I learn that patience is a good thing and I learn patience by having to wait.

But what about not waiting? You see, I’m learning that I won’t have much fun if I wait for it to happen by itself. I’ve spent my share of time feeling sorry for myself, wising I was having fun, being pitiful. I can decide to have fun, sometimes with others, but even when I’m alone. Often that is my only choice. I have a ready list of those things I enjoy doing, because everything in life goes better with fun mixed into it. It’s medicine really.

And honestly, fun is a huge part of my faith life, my life with God. I’m not sure I’ve ever read the word “fun” in the Bible, but I have seen “pleasure” and “enjoy”which are probably about the same thing. I can’t imagine the abundant life that God says he wants me to have, without it also being fun. I feel it in my heart, God is in favor of fun.

All this to say that it’s a good night out here on the patio. There’s work to do inside the house, which I’m not doing. I’m alone with my writing pad and my cup of tea, watching a warm, glowing fire. No guilt, no regrets. I’m having fun and fun is good. (Wish you were here…)

Random Spring

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Today it is raining and blustery. Will it snow once more in the hours ahead? It’s possible. I never know how to dress for my daily walks – down coat, rain jacket, only a sweatshirt, hat? So I put it all on and take it off and carry it if I have to. For our spot on this planet, the month of March is never sure whether she is winter or spring, which leaves us waiting in various ways. Life is just a little more eclectic and full of random activities, waiting activities.

We watch the snow melt. I know it’s hard to imagine that being exciting, but when you’ve seen nearly five months of whiteness, a little bare ground is a big deal. It has disappeared from the roads and most of the yards except for the deep snow banks that the snow plows left. There are still patches of snow in the woods where the sun doesn’t shine. The lakes are still covered with rotten ice, but the geese are arriving and looking for any open water in the streams and marshes.

We are cleaning closets, emptying boxes long forgotten, and making decisions. Spring cleaning, it could be called that but it’s much more. It’s like taking trips down memory lane and we spend a lot of time talking about what we are remembering.

We (I) are finally putting December behind us. I turned off the winter lights on Daylight Savings day. The sun is coming up earlier and in a different place on the horizon. The patio furniture is out on the east porch and we are ready for the first day that allows us to sit outside for morning coffee, no longer in the dark and cold.

For some odd reason, I’m finding puzzles to be more than usually comforting. They have appeared in greater than usual numbers too, thanks to friends who have dropped them off. This is the first year that I’ve done puzzles alone since there is no one in the house who cares for them like I do. When my brain needs a break from daily duties, the puzzle is there waiting, demanding nothing, requiring a different kind of focus, full of color, visually interesting, solvable and just challenging enough.

Even the cat is waiting to be let outside. She watches the squirrels at the bird feeder and gets all excited, but only spends a few seconds in the cold when I let her out. She is waiting for the warm times she remembers, and as I watch her sitting in the sun I am reminded of spring window washing duties. I cleaned this window this week and it looks much better now.

Everyone’s chickens are laying eggs now and it is easy to get them fresh from the farms. I get a strange delight at boxes like this one from a chicken breed called Rainbow – for obvious reasons. I am having time to pay more attention to our nutrition and exercise needs. I feel healthier and ready for summer, ready for the sun, and work in the garden.

I am writing, although finding it hard. April Challenge is coming up and I would like to have my posts finished beforehand. It is slow going because my theme is so interesting and personal. Stories of my great grandmother and her family are so thought provoking and absorbing and I find myself spending days thinking about one episode before actually nailing it down. It is hard but I know it will be worthwhile.

And amid all the projects that didn’t get done this winter, there are a few that are getting done. I’m sealing the beautiful outdoor chairs that my uncle made for our patio, and I sawed the backs off my kitchen stools and painted the seats barn red. Now they fit under the counter better. I swept under the stove, vacuumed out the truck, and put away the snow shovels in favor of the rakes. I am even finding time to knit, and that amazes even me. I am grateful for all there is to do that makes waiting an interesting part of life, almost like a season in itself.

I can almost forget I’m waiting,… just sayin’.

February Goodness: Good Words

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I love it when someone speaks influential words that apply to my life.

I believe that learning, growing, and being curious makes me a happier person. Sometimes I can commence down a better path all by myself, but most often I am inspired or encouraged by someone else’s good words. I have good words written on note cards, in my journal, on sticky notes here and there, magnetized on my refrigerator, and on note apps on my phone. In fact, they are stashed in so many different places that I have trouble finding any certain one when I want it. My favorite books are highlighted so I can easily find those places where words changed something for me.

When I was younger, encountering good words was easy. I had parents and teachers who felt responsible for telling me all kinds of things. Now that I’m older I have to search for that kind of input. It’s actually work to keep growing. I’m trying to do it on purpose.

A favorite thing, and I don’t do it often enough, is to ask someone who knows me fairly well to think for a minute and then tell me something they think I need to hear. I pick kind people, like Mom, who have earned my respect. But I am willing to hear correction as well as anything else they might have to say. Although it might feel selfish to ask someone to think about me and give feedback, I think that is a distorted feeling. I think it’s healthy to want to know what other people see. It adds balance to my life and keeps me away from unhealthy extremes.

Thank you Emily for some good words today.

Today I listened to a podcast that had a good word for me. I am a writer of sorts and have been a member of a professional writing group for several years. I have writing projects that I want to complete and I thought I was taking them seriously. I am working on them whenever I get time. And then, prompted by words from the podcast teacher, I took a look at my calendar and did not see writing anywhere on my schedule. I had to admit that it did not appear to be a very serious task. I now have a chance to do something better.

Okay, it’s on the calendar now. (I know it doesn’t look like I do much, but that’s because I’m retired and don’t write things down until after I do them.)

And of course, there’s nothing like a pandemic and year long isolation to make good words precious to me. I hear all the time that people are lonely, wondering whether they have value to anyone, feeling a bit hopeless, depressed… and I begin to feel some of that myself. I am grateful for words that came along one evening this week, from the video series “The Chosen”, Season 1, Episode 1 (such a good, thought provoking series!). The words are “But now, this is what the Lord says – he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine.’ ” From Isaiah 43:1 Those words are for all people and they make me feel known, valued and not afraid. Good words.

What good words have come across your radar lately? Please share.

Today’s Four Good Things

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There were four very good things about this day. They were good things to me because they made me feel very alive and stimulated by new insights. They spurred me to action.

The earth is still spinning in space. It’s a good day.

The first was seeing an amazing sunrise, with my favorite morning people. I love watching the sky, the clouds and light doing their thing at the beginning and the end, like bookends of the day.

The second thing was a set of lessons on recognizing and understanding more about shame and the part it plays in people’s lives. It was so enlightening that I finished nine lessons. I couldn’t stop. Thank you Dinah Monahan! I would sit in any class you were teaching.

A third good thing was hearing an interview with a very insightful writer who said so many profoundly helpful things about writing. Everything she said was meaningful and gave me ideas about collaborative writing (and about life in general). I wanted to try new things right away. I had to take action and buy her book immediately on Kindle. Thank you Diana Glyer for your “Bandersnatch” book and I hope I have time this weekend to read it.

The fourth good thing was that I made my step count for the day once again. It was a combination of treadmill, walking outside, and just getting around doing life. I’m finding that it’s a commitment that’s not always convenient. For instance, it means getting sweaty two or three times a day and having to decide whether to shower and change clothes – yeah, that’s right, I don’t always do it.

You might think this picture is too big. That’s okay, you can think that. It makes me feel good to look at it.

But I feel like it is doing me some good. I’m sleeping differently because I’m physically tired at the end of the day. I’m starting to get some lower blood pressure readings, and although I’m not usually in a bad mood, I feel my mood is better than usual. It feels so good to have done something challenging.

Today as I was walking outside, sweating underneath my winter coat, and hoping my phone wouldn’t run out of battery, I kept getting texts from some poor scammer. Whoever it was (and I don’t think it had to be a woman), they used the same tired story of wanting me to be their Mary Kay consultant and help them with a big order for a daughter’s wedding. I don’t know why I get pleasure out of playing with these people for a bit, but I do. I tell them they can order off my website, which is where they got my phone number. And then it branches off into why they can’t do that, followed by how their boss is going to cut me a check for the product. Their boss? It’s such a lame story that it always amazes me.

The good part is that I did get home before my phone (and exercise app) ran out of battery. I’ve also taken a shower, finally, and will be ready for a clean start tomorrow. Just sayin’…

Small Stories Series

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Life produces many small stories. Being small doesn’t make them “less than”, except maybe in word count.

Static Electricity (or What Is That Doing Out Here in the Field?)

I will start by saying that I don’t have a clothesline so I dry our laundry inside with an electric dryer.

It was about a week ago in early spring, so early that neither Mom nor Dennis, the husband, had been outdoors much. We were a month into the COVID 19 pandemic and tired of it already. Snow had just melted and the fields were bare, but it was a warmish , breezy evening.

We had just finished a “tea party” with family and weren’t quite ready to quit having fun. In a rare burst of energy the husband decided he wanted to walk down past the barn and to the pond to see whatever could be seen. Off he went.

Mom and I had the golf cart out for the first time of the season and we headed out past the pond to tour the wetlands and meadow. It was exhilarating, partly because the wind was still chilly. We did one big circle and headed back. I could see the husband had passed the pond and was making his way toward some neighboring condos. He had been in one of those “do it myself” moods so I decided to get Mom home first and then come back to see if he was tired and wanting a ride.

We had just crossed the bridge when I saw something on the ground ahead of us. It didn’t look like debris and it hadn’t been there when we passed by earlier. It looked like clothing of some sort.

Coming closer, I thought it looked like underwear! How strange, I thought.

And closer still, it was underwear, and in fact, it was MY underwear. What!?

I swerved over and snatched them up, and once again I noticed the husband in the distance, his pant legs flapping wildly in the breeze. There was no other way those panties could have made their way out into the field except he must have had them. They must have been stuck inside his pant legs and the wind had shaken them out as he walked. He never noticed them stuck in his pants and never noticed when they left either. His “do it myself” mood had started earlier when he had taken his shower and had chosen his recently washed and dried pants to wear. Let’s just say he’s not a real careful dresser. (But I would so have noticed if someone else’s underwear had been stuck inside my pants…)

For a minute it looked like Mom might fall out of the golf cart, laughing as hard as she was. I figure with the pandemic and all going on, God knew we needed some comedy and decided putting something common in a very uncommon place would fit the bill. (At least it was some of my prettiest underwear…)

Yep, right out there in this grassy field…