I have had some extremely special people in my life recently lose extremely special people in their lives. Sadly, we are of that age. Those lives lost effected me too, as I was blessed to have those we lost as tacks on my map. My friends are a gift to me, and so were their family members. I didn’t know them so well, but I knew them well enough. In those friendships, it was a gift to call them friends. They were special and unique people, loved by many, lost to all; way too despicable and fast.
I am shuffling around my house in my slippers crying for my friends and their losses. Only because I know all too well what it’s like to lose. I am still not so okay getting over my father’s passing. It’s painfully lonely. I remember that there wasn’t much anyone could do or say that could make me even. Now, I feel so desperately lost and sad and under water with it all. I don’t know what to do with myself carrying my grief for them all. It’s certainly not about me, but I wish I could take their pain away.
I’m puttering: cleaning and crying and trying to deflect. What can I do? What can I say? No food, no flowers, no errands, maybe not even hugs can help me help them. How do we help our loved ones who lose loved ones? I wish I learned something from my Great Loss, so I can help others going through it, but it’s all blurry and messy and simply just still so painful.
I think the thing to do is just be present. Keep reaching out to offer help, lend an ear to listen, check in. Circle of life is what it is. We all are born and we all pass on. But it just hurts so much because when there is so much love created and connected, the loss is that much more profound. The more you love and are loved, the more it hurts to the core of the inner most middle center piece of your heart.
AKA #lentphotoaday, April 15th word of the day is FOUND.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch; like me! I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind but now I see.” A hymn by John Newton
If I had a penny for how many times I have sung this song, mostly at funerals, I would have a couple bucks. But no seriously. I really have been singing it at funerals and celebrations of life since I was a teenager. It’s the saddest superpower ever. It’s also one thing I can do to help, to comfort, to give back to those who are mourning. One of the worst days of my whole life was singing it at the graveside of my dear friends’ child. There are not enough tears in the world to drown that pain, but I hope I helped soothe with a song. I cry as I write this. Ugh.
I actually walked by her place of rest the other day. I was also recently just there witnessing the burial of another friend and it was also a hard day. Sunday, My husband and I were on a walk and I was not feeling the greatest on the way back, so I didn’t stop in to see her at her gravesite, but I thought lovingly of her and reminisced about her beautiful smile and spirit. It hurts your heart all over again to think of it. I’ll make the walk back tomorrow and go visit her resting place. I’ll never, none of us, understand. It’s up to me to work through my personal heartache with losing those who we love, to at least find comfort in the fact that they are within the realms of the Kingdom of Heaven and they are at peace.
The most popular reference using the word “FOUND” is from Jeramiah 15:16 stating “Thy words were found, and I did eat them; and thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of mine heart: for I am called by thy name, O Lord God of hosts.” It’s the revelation of finding absorbing and internalizing God’s word; laying the the rock and the foundation. I gravitate to Amazing Grace and the meaning of the hymn, where it speaks of a journey from despair to hope, finding peace and joy along the way.
I once was lost, but now am FOUND. Was blind, but now I see. I’m getting there.
I’m working my way through this day. The above angel mark was thick today and it was mighty. Before I sat on my back stoop and watched the sun set on a beautiful night, I had a hard day. I was extra lonely. My husband is out of town and we are usually our own bosom buddies when one of us is not working. Some things happened today that really made me sad. Life transitions are being clunky, but I know living here in this medicinal bubble of a home is keeping me afloat.
John 14:27. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
Many of us have heard a variation of this a million times during the gospel. You didn’t hear it always on the weekly rotation, but it was usually in the go-to options of the starting line-up.
The Biblical concept of PEACE encompasses total wholeness, total health, total welfare; the total of God’s blessings. PEACE is sprinkled ALLLLL over the Bible. It’s a strong vibe. Obviously because when there is chaos we seek to find PEACE.
This next one is taking up extra rental space in my head right now:
John 16:22 So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.
I’m tired.
Someone I love called me today upset. They missed their parent they recently lost. Boy, do I get it. It got us to talking about the paths our lives are taking and how sad it was that while they are making some dreams come true that their parent always championed, they were so filled with grief that they were missing it. I asked them if they think their loved one is really missing it? They thought for a more than a minute.
Because, I explained, I don’t think they are missing it. I think they are right here with us. Walking next to us. Holding out their hand, helping guide us, rooting for us, being our champions in Heaven. I feel my father all the time. I know he is with me. That’s just what I believe though. Some might call me crazy for sure. Whatevs. I explained further that life is so hard. But what I do know, very easily and with a lot of calmness and peace; that they indeed walk among us. It’s awful they are not physically here, it’s the very worst and we can do nothing to change it. But at least they are spiritually present. And that does give me PEACE.
I took myself outside for the sunset and sat on my stoop. I watched Sam the muskrat float by on his back, enjoying the vastness of the the lake before the docks go in, before the motors start humming, and the summer sounds start amping up. I saw the baby ducks scootch by with their families, and the geese making their way back to the hood. I wrapped up in my cardigan, leaned back on the banister and watchedGod’s show. I felt my Dad with me, winking to me that sunset. Thanks Daddy. It gave such good PEACE.
I’m going to go a little bit of a different route on today’s word, and focus on the Beatitudes. The Beatitudes are a set of eight blessings recited by Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel (5:3-12) and four in Luke’s Gospel (6:20-23). I def had to Google that.
As a core part of the Sermon on the Mount, I grew up hearing these words. Beautus is Latin for “Happy” or “BLESSED.” Basically, these are the qualities based on those who belong in Heaven. Whoof. Tall order?
To be “poor in spirit” means to acknowledge ones deepest human need for God and to grow into that longing and that dependence on a daily basis. You kind of have to want it. And know you want it. You could be walking around out there, all “poor in spirit”, but are you poor if it’s not even on your radar? But it’s like God has your back anyway. He’s holding down the fort for if, and when, you want to spiritually grow. I happened recently have my “Aha” moment and now I am here for it.
Mourning. Oof. The Bible reminds us that death is not the end, and that mourning is temporary. This is where faith of knowing our loved ones are in a better place and that we will hopefully see them again comes in, and it’s quite the multi-layered concept. After basically two years of shock, I am settling into my mourning and grief of my father. It’s every day with me. It’s always me hoping that he has a beautiful spot in Heaven, he is watching over us and he is waiting to see us again. Sometimes, when I hear myself talk about these feelings, I feel like I have the spirituality of a 9 year old. And I am ok with that. Works for me.
In Bibleland, meek does not equal weak. No sir. It’s not about being passive, shy and timid. It’s about humility, gentleness and patience. I find it hard to stay obedient in a political climate that has us in a chokehold. If I stay quiet, if I don’t fight back, if I let them walk all over me, am I weak or meek? I think it’s more strength of control. I argue with the concept that we need to submit without resistance when facing our chaotic national crisis, but spiritually, I feel it easier just to relent.
OK, Google AI, I see you. “In the context of Matthew 5:6, ‘hunger and thirst for righteousness‘ signifies a deep, passionate desire for what is morally right and just, a yearning for a relationship with God and a life that reflects His character, which is a spiritual need that, when fulfilled, brings true satisfaction.” I mean, I feel like I am going back to SCHOOL here. So, I see this as a call to action. We get hungry so we eat and we get thirsty so we drink. Hunger and thirst for righteousness is longing spiritually for growth and connection to God. Feed it and you come closer to living a life that feels worthy.
Mercy seems to be like a BBF of grace. Mercy is often expressed through the pardon of sins, second chances, forgiveness. I LOVE the word grace and the whole concept of it. It’s really one of my favorites. God’s unearned favor and kindness is such a beautiful thing to me because so many of us are so darn hard on ourselves. Knowing that there is just a simple hug out there for you when you can’t hug yourself is everything. The Bible starts strong with mercy when God forgives Adam and Eve. Then he heads over and forgives the Egyptian slave delivery of Israelites. Let’s not forget the actual sacrifice of Jesus Christ for the sins of humanity. It might be a hard sell to think that we are encouraged to be nice to our enemies, to forgive those who hurt us and to give to them without getting back. We can strive to give people what they need and not what they deserve. Let the big guy take care of that. That’s what he does with us.
My goodness, could we use a good peacemaker right now. I can’t help but to keep on referring to the big conflict, the big elephant in the room as our nation in crisis. It seems too lofty a request to try to find someone, a few, a gaggle of peacemakers to help pull us out of this shitstorm. When I am overwhelmed with the bigness of something like this, I have a panic attack, cry and then I break it down. How can I find peace in this moment to make me feel better? To make the ones I love feel more peaceful? Quite apparently these days, I’m going with God for 500, Alex. Where are our Ghandi’s, Mother Teresa’s, Martin Luther King’s? Our Desmond Tutu’s, Dali Lama’s, John Lennon’s? No seriously. Where are they. Someone point them out to me. I don’t think we fully really knew they trying to peace out the world until after the fact? I mean, we all knew that MLK was doing brave, great and powerful things. Mother Teresa, hello. Ghandhi, pfft obviously. I don’t know if we can pinpoint a champion right now. So I go to God. And Dr. Heather Cox Richardson for a daily health fact-based update of our democracy. You go girl.
And finally, we can address righteous persecution, also know as faith under pressure. One can lead a good life, have good morals, honor God and his ways, and you get beat up for it. Prophets Elijah and Jerimiah were God-shamed for sure. Elijah stuck to his guns and was rewarded by getting a sweet ride to Heaven in a fiery Chariot. Jeremiah, as known as “The Weeping Prophet”, tried to warn Israel of the consequences of broken covenants, but nooooo they wouldn’t listen. He was an empath, for sure. He was also super hard on himself. But he had courage and he stuck with his convictions, even when his own family bailed on him. He put in a lot of effort and he didn’t get to see those results, just a lifetime of bullying. But it was the impact of his lifetime deeds that God and generations after used to as an example of perseverance in ministry.
Or also know as: A Lenten Reflective Journey…With Hiccups.
Ahhh, Facebook….the best online hang in the world to connect, yet simultaneously annoying, politically stressful and chock full of HACKERS.
Last month, I saw a dear friend involved in a Facebook #rethinkchurch daily practice, inspired by The United Methodist Church. She was participating with another lovely friend who moved to the Big Stone Gap, and it’s been nice to be able to keep tabs on her and her wonderful life out there. I was intrigued by the idea of spiritual reflection, with a sprinkle of accountability. It’s always been a good look for me. In the last three years, I very painfully lost my dad and have been suffering from chronic health issues. My kids are getting older, life is moving so much faster. I feel very grateful for my soul mate husband, my loving children, family, friends, my home and my life. I am washed over with the overwhelming need to express my gratitude and thankfulness.
I had somewhat of a darker experience with religion when I was younger. Dark isn’t quite the right word. It’s not a positive word to pinpoint, but it was…problematic? So, as we sometimes do, I put it all in my pocket and I shoved it in the back of the closet. Well. Seems like I’m feeling the need to clean a little house. Exploring my relationship with religion and God has slowing inched over to me on the couch. I’m starting to lean in and I’m starting to listen.
At the beginning of March, I started the daily #lentphotoaday, prompted by a suggested word. I would post it on my FB page, tagging my reflective Lent tribe. I loved it. I was waking up every morning, inspired by nature outside my window, old photos, memories and pulling out our old family Bible. It all felt very cathartic and warm to explore.
And then we got Facebooked hacked.
And then I got really sick.
And then, instead of being able to reflect on my past, present and future relationship with God, and preparing for Easter in my own little way, I was just praying to God that I would get better and not die in the hospital. Not the journey I was intending.
I was in there seven days with a virus that turned pneumonic, and heavy IV steroids that bumped me to coma-high blood sugars. All of that craziness thrust me into a rancid, full-blown case of Diabetes. It sounds dramatic because it is. It sucks. I’m home now in insulin, bruised like a pin cushion, beat-up, weak and exhausted. My new medical path has changed and I will be now focusing on getting better. But I remain positive because LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL. I am babying myself so I can keep plugging along. Summer is coming…summer is coming.
In the end, if I can also be honest, I think this worked out. It’s getting me writing again. Also, It was not a comfortable platform for me to be sharing my reflections anyway. My FB circle is used to handling my funny meme’s, annoying mom brag posts and lots of music promotional material. I think it works out for me to head over to this crazy little Heatherland. Its feels so much more appropriate; a public blog, but ironically personal, since no one really reads it.
Therefore, here I am, jumping back into the Lent pool.
In the longest almost year of my life…dad’s health issues have taken over his Lewybodys Dementia and he’s in his last days. When LBD hit rapidly last July, after a septic UTI and hospital stay, our world was forever changed. Massive significant health problems, including surgeries and an amputation, made his confusion from LBD and his confusion of what was medically happening to him absolutely devastating to witness. Now I sit by him at his facility and he sleeps most of the time. He stopped eating a couple of days ago and it’s even hard to get him to take a few sips of water. I’m a writer, novice, but it’s my love language. I’ve barely been able to even write the utter emotional and physical despair this has inflicted on me and my family. Most importantly, on Dad. How is it possible that in less than a year, I am losing my big, strong, successful, insanely intelligent, funny, loving father? What we are all going through, this is the hardest stuff of life. I’m clinging to him in the last moments of his; praying for his calm and his peace, until he finally can be with our loved ones in Heaven. Hugs to everyone who has had to go through this. You don’t know until you know.
The first headline I read this morning was from Huff Post:
“Gen Xers and Millennial’s Got Into Weirdest Fight Over Super Bowl HalfTime Show”
My eyes are full of tears and I have to look away. I glance up at the hospital room TV. The halftime show star is starting, but it’s on mute. Mike and I are helplessly watching two hospital nurses shake you awake to see if you were ok. It takes about 10 minutes. You are so confused when you wake up. I have to leave to room to go cry in the hallway. Again.
We missed the half time show. But we also didn’t miss a thing.
The Sea Island sun blinds me when I look up to see your face. I stop-salute you and squint to block it from my eyes. You and your mustached-face looks down at me, smiling. You reach down to grab my nose and peek your thumb out of your knuckle sandwich. You hold it up and say, “got your nose!”
“Give it Back!” I yell, but I’m laughing and I’m chasing your serpentine. Back and forth, in and out of the water. I follow your footsteps and try to match them. I put my foot inside yours and I squish it all around. The waves are awfully loud, but I love them and then you grab me and give me my nose back.
I love any beach or water anywhere forever and ever and it’s because of moments like this. It’s safe, you are relaxed and it just means love. I have to run fast to keep up: one-two-three-four Heathersteps, in and out of the water, equal one big Daddystep. You laugh and stop and wait for me. Then you grab my hand. It’s so windy and the waves are so big and they break the silence in a way that makes me close my eyes and be happy. It smells so good. You are so tall and I look up at you and you laugh out the words, “hurry up, twinkle toes.”
I giggle when you take the shells I give you and you say “Ooooooooh, that’s a good one“.
I feel proud that I picked it and you put it in your pocket. I am twirling round and round with the sand between my toes. When I dizzy-stop, stumble and laugh, you are walking back. You’re done. I stop-salute and squint, watching you get smaller as you walk away. You yell back, “Go to mom now.“
***
I’m a bad actor and I can’t fake it anymore. I am screaming inside and crying and keening and wailing. Every tiny cell of me is tired. We are now in Defcon 1. I can’t control you. You can’t figure out reason or make sense of anything. There are not people in the corners trying to hurt you. You are not being poisoned. We are not trying to kill you. I wish I could rescue you from the alien world that you are living in your head. It seems so scary and mean and awful. I’d give anything to Stranger Things you outta there.
I spend hours trying to show you how much I love you. Even when I am not with you, I still worry and wonder if you are ok. I’m so sad that you are leaving me; that you have already kind of left. The other night in the wee hours, you were yelling at me:
You do not care if I die.
You are out to get rid of me.
You are not on my team.
You don’t have my back.
When you say these things, I can handle it. Your words bounce off me onto the floor. I can step on them a little and kick them under the couch. I know you don’t mean it. I know you are sick. I am tough and I can fight them off.
Your face looks so different now. I remember being little and tracing your face with my fingertips. “Oops…got your nose.”
I know you can no longer read your books; now it’s only faces. I am sorry that sometimes I don’t look at you when we talk. I try to make my face happy, but sometimes, I just can’t.
Feelings transition to some kind of desperation. I want someone there with me to see what I have to do. I need a wingman. I want someone to hug me. I need help with you. I need you to help me with you. I long for the dad I had, to give me advice about the dad I have now. I feel desert Island lonely.
This journey has given me some useful takeaways and Heather 2022 has a new criteria for friendship.: Choose the right people who deserve to hear your story. I love hearing stories of the people I love and I know they hear me back. There is nothing worse than realizing that someone don’t want all of the sides of you. I have been screaming from the inside of insides. I don’t have the energy to only listen and not be heard. I hope to replenish soon.
I think I am spending so much time writing this to procrastinate making phone calls. Calls to find somewhere we can move you away from the home that you worked so hard for and away from the life you knew. Can I call in a sub for this too? Inhale…exhale…
I took a night off from being with you last night to sleep in a real bed. Today, I head back to you and the couch. When I get in the car, I will cry. I will walk in the door with a smile. I will try not to lose it, but sometimes I do. You threw a box of tissues at me the other night. I karate-chopped it from my face and the box went flying. It was actually super funny. Wish you were there.
My eyes were still trying to focus, failing miserably to recall the details of the very weird dream I just had about going back to college…I was doing the groggy, obligatory reach-over for my glasses and my phone.
A very upset dear friend sent me a text. “…Did you hear about Sammy?…”
No. No no no no no no no. Not Sam. Samsamsamsamsamsam.
What is that thing? What is that thing our minds do at times like this when memories, clips, moments, feelings…they all attack our brains and our heads and our faces…flying at you like a colorful tornado…recollections of the past floating around. You close your eyes and you try to grab ahold of one to steady it for second, and it moves and then you open your eyes. Poof. There they go. You try really hard and they come back again and you struggle to remember them in a not-fuzzy way. For me: a laugh, a look, a rehearsal, a tipsy walk down the street, a striped shirt, a giggle-filled stage kiss, a hi and a hug, a deep talk in a dark bar…reminiscences all chaotic, all fighting, bumping into each other, these memories belligerent and clawing to be seen and competing to be remembered in my mind, just as they were in that memory Polaroid…those memory Polaroids…snapshots of those times, that small moment of many; many and not enough tiny moments that make up the time when I had Sam in my life.
He was just a friend. Not a past lover. Not someone I even truly knew anymore. But my heart aches just the same. Crying for his family, bawling for his loved ones. Then my inner dialogue goes Tasmanian Devil…we do this to ourselves….I’m yelling at me in my car yesterday morning, fists gripping my steering wheel, “Why in the hell didn’t I talk to him anymore?!”
Stop, breathe. Hug ourselves. It’s in this moment that we need to tell us that we are ok because life. simply. moves. It just keeps moving. That time I had with him was there and then life moves so fast…onto the next show, the new circle of pals, the new job, the new husband, the kids, the more kids, the more jobs, the more life. The journey takes us; the road winds and we drive farther on The Map of Life. But it is on that Map that you mark those special tack pins. You take them and stick them in all the locations that you really lived and loved, because you want to remember that time and that spot and those people. They meant so much to you that you saved them for later. You do that, so when you go back to The Map and look at all the beautiful places you have been, you remember what a great journey we are on so far…And Sam, my friends, was definitely a tack.
I love Facebook. I fucking hate Facebook. But most importantly, I NEED Facebook. Not just to promote my music career, but I need Facebook so I can look back on all my connected tacks. I go on my feed page so I can laugh at a ridiculous cow meme that was posted by an old theater professor, or admire a neighbor’s summer garden or feel happy for the old middle school friend who found great love, or I can even just send a virtual hug to a long-distant cousin who just needs a freaking hug. It’s not the same. It’s not in person, it’s virtual, but it’s the best I can do right now and I MEAN it. It’s me saying to everyone, “I am busy on my path, but I am still so glad that you were on one of mine.”
Sam was just this stunning human. Strikingly good-looking, yes, but that wasn’t even the best part. First and foremost, he was a deep and true listener for all. When you spoke to Sam, he concentrated on your words with his warm puddly eyes and his beautifully enormous heart. All of this greatness was surrounded by a unique and rare talent for performing. I have a funny Polaroid in my head that reminds me I had a little crush on Sam. I was playing Chris Hargensen and he was my Billy in a hilarious Chicago musical called “sCarrie the Musical”. We were the mean kids and made out a lot. Which wasn’t horrible. We had this rather rated-R musical number where I had to sing to him while I was performing….well…let’s just say, that the entire cast could barely get through it every time because we were all laughing so hard. Best of times.
I don’t know how we lost Sam. What I pray for is that he didn’t feel one ounce of pain. What I wish for is that his legacy will live on for all days, by the people who loved him. What I know is that all of it is a complete tragedy.
Pray for his family. Hug everyone you can. Love everyone you love. Go hang your Map.
HEATHERLAND 