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Posts Tagged ‘acceptance’

Hello, Labor Day. The AC is Out!

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 9, 2015| 1 Comment »

The art of life is a constant readjustment to our surroundings. (Kakuzo Okakaura)

“Are you hot in here?” Jay calls from the living room.

I’m not. But warm air rises and my body doesn’t reach that far off the ground. Besides, my short frame doesn’t want to leave the frame of a bed. I spent two hours in the deep end of the pool at the Y and then went out to dinner with some of Jay’s family. My idea of a great vacation day. Now I am ready to revitalize—from a horizontal position.

“Well, the thermostat reads eighty degrees,” Jay announces.

I’d like to say he needs new bifocals; his vision is A-OK.

This is not a good sign. My headache, the one that develops at four in the morning, doesn’t help. The heat inside my skull battles with the heat in the air. So far, no winner.

Hours later we discover our cooling system has a leak. So does the checkbook. Service calls on a holiday cost extra. I have grown so accustomed to comfort that I didn’t realize how old the system was. It will make it this year. Probably. Next year? Maybe.

I have an incredibly blessed life. Sure, I’ve experienced trials. I didn’t think I would make it through some of them. But, that was yesterday’s vision. I don’t live there. Nevertheless, remembering what it was like during the ugly times helps me empathize with people who walk through them now. Sometimes they barely breathe from one moment into the next. Walking isn’t necessarily an option.

So I guess trials have their purpose, too. Comfort from someone who has existed on cushioned silk is empty.

Cool air flows around me. It is a gift. I celebrate the luxury and at the same time wish I could spread it around, extend the temperature control into a troubled, ugly, world. I pray that I stop taking what I have for granted. Give more. Complain less. A constant readjustment. At least until I reach perfection. And that isn’t on my to-do list. Even into a fantasy world like the one I created in “The Curse Under the Freckles.”

Even in magical realms there are limits.

Readjust…readjust…readjust…

having what you want, wanting it

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Little-People Art, Creating It and Living It

Posted in positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 2, 2015| 3 Comments »

When will you learn that there isn’t a word for everything? (Nicole Krauss)

Ella has had enough play for the evening. Daddy is playing in a softball tournament. His team won the first game and the second is in progress. She doesn’t even want my iPad, usually a sure thing. She eases into my lap as we sit in the concession area and asks for her friend Nona. I didn’t see the little girl during the first game.

Nona is years younger than Ella. But our granddaughter doesn’t limit her friendships to children her age. Nona has a sparkling personality. And she has inherited artistic skills. I suspect that she and Ella communicate on non-verbal levels, through action, color, play. Little people see more than adults realize.

artwork by Nona Adams-Jones

artwork by Nona Adams-Jones

Ella puts her head on my chest. I straddle the hard bench and I’m amazed at the length of time my senior body remains still without stiffening into one four-foot-eleven-inch cramp. Something innately beautiful in Ella softens me.

Simultaneous loud conversations merge into a rumble. Ella’s arms are covered with dirt from the playground area. Her hair could use a brush. At the table across from me someone spills a beer into peanut shells on the concrete-slab floor. The noise and distraction don’t stop my granddaughter from falling asleep. I can’t take off her glasses without waking her.

This frozen-grandma scene would not appear to be pleasant. Nevertheless, I choose to remember it—every detail. I have no desire to join the laughter surrounding me. I would rather savor holding this blonde little girl, recognizing the trust she has in me, basking in her unconditional love. Another kind of artistic moment.

Soon she will awaken, sleepily, and see Daddy. He is her world. She is excited to give him her coloring page from daycare. I will give up this moment soon enough. For now there is no need for words. I remain still. Privileged. The grandmother of a girl with Down syndrome and up gifts.

Art comes in all forms. Sometimes words fail when they try to capture gifts that develop and change as this moment eases into the next.

shirts from past celebrated Buddy Walks

My husband and I wear these often as we watch our Ella grow.

Buddy Walk shirts

 

 

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The Up-side to a Down-decision: Funeral planning

Posted in positive thinking, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 28, 2015| 2 Comments »

Life is like a prism. What you see depends on how you turn the glass. (Jonathan Kellerman)

The four-syllables in mortality sound less harsh than the one-syllable, no-coming-back word, death. I roll both terms through my brain. I may be a senior citizen, but at age 69 I play on the floor with my grandchildren. And I get up again without complaints from my knees. I can tread water for well over an hour before my bladder says it is time for a break.

In many ways my success in life has just begun. “The Curse Under the Freckles” is available online. I just found out that it is also available at Barnes and Noble. As soon as I receive copies I will schedule local signings.

But the finality notion arises because my husband and I sit in a cemetery office—as we make our own funeral arrangements. We are choosing the greenest options, as well as the cheapest-possible. Something like trying to find a bargain at a high-scale store without gasping at the sticker price. Green burial may be our choice, but green cash is disappearing from our savings.

However, we do not want our sons to add hassle to their lives. It comes to everyone and more is unnecessary. I’m amazed at how comfortable I feel. Maybe it’s the outgoing personality of our planner. Maybe I’ve learned to savor life now.

I’ve never organized a party where I knew I would not be invited—well, except this last one where I will wait on the sidelines for incineration. (Hopefully only the earth version, as if I had the slightest vision of the surprises on the other side. Although I choose not to anticipate bizarre visions.)

This moment is not morbid. In fact, I send a message to my sister to tell her she needs to keep her gorgeous voice intact. When she is in her late eighties and I am about one-hundred and something I expect her to sing at my memorial service. I leave the message with a vague reference saying that I will keep in touch. About what? The funeral or my next grandchild story? She catches the humor.

The sun shines and a gentle breeze has pushed the August heat out of the way for a while. Our lives are not perfect; no one’s is. But the grounds at Spring Grove are beautiful. I savor the lines in my skin the way I celebrate bright flowers contrasting gray rock.

I’m not sure I could honor beauty if I had never seen its opposite.

Peace upon all wherever this moment leads you. I pray that it leads you into a more powerful life.

life before death the optimism revolution

 

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Tall, Short—But, Similar Inside

Posted in positive thinking, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 18, 2015| 4 Comments »

You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star. (Friedrich Nietzsche)

Perhaps I have too much chaos within me because I feel crowded in water aerobics class—actually there are only about twelve participants. Not exactly a mob. But the instructor directs us to continuously travel back and forth. The possibility of bumping into someone seems high to me.

My energy feels almost electric. I’m more than busy at the moment with babysitting duties and preparing for a newly published book to appear. In the water that electricity seems dangerous even if it is only a metaphor. So I swim into the deeper water and tread through the moves. I love the feel of suspending. And I see another benefit: a tall friend is here today. She buoys me with her spirit.

She and I look as different as a mountain and a valley. I need to stand on a step stool to get sufficient pressure at the locker’s swimsuit spinner. At six-foot tall she is at the deeper end of the indoor pool, but doesn’t need to kick to stay afloat. I look up to her physically—and as a person.

This lady talks about her dedication to family with the same offhandedness a person would use when counting loads of laundry. She gives because the need is there. She is not aware of her own beauty.

As we talk I sense similar teen experiences. When adolescence hit I would have pronounced angst with an accent on every letter if sharing feelings had been permitted in my home. Since they were not, the not-good-enough notion imploded and almost destroyed my spirit. Changing that attitude has taken time and effort. But I don’t regret the past. Because of it I am less likely to judge someone else. I also have  a storehouse of great fictional characters, all based on a confused, normal young girl—me.

My friend shares a current difficulty she is facing. It sounds familiar. She has a family member in hospice. Cookie-cutter supportive care doesn’t work for everyone. Sure, it would be great if so-and-so would play the let’s-have-fun-while-we-can game. But, sometimes the individual wouldn’t have played when he or she was twenty-three.

Later, I see my giving friend helping someone else. Her gift delays her departure when I know she has other tasks to perform, a long agenda for the day. I would like to give more details about that moment, but don’t want to break this woman’s anonymity.

Instead, I simply shout-out thanks into the electronic universe and hope treading water with her has brought some positive energy into me. I am thinking about her now with the hope that my words serve as a mirror reflecting the goodness I see.

It is contagious, in a positive way.

garland of beautiful deeds

 

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Simplifying—While Treading Water

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 11, 2015| 3 Comments »

An ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak. (Hans Hofmann)

 A warning on the side of the pool reads: eleven feet three inches deep. Even if I were tall enough to function in my kitchen without a handy-dandy step stool, I would need to tread. And that is okay with me. Making peace with something larger than I am seems to be the right move. Actually, making peace with me may be the next goal.

In a recent blog I wrote about the week when I battled daily headaches. A beautiful, psychic, and talented massage-therapist friend brought me unexpected answers. Sure the weather and stress were valid factors in my discomfort. But she discovered clues hidden inside my muscle memory. And she helped me to diffuse those interruptions into the universe. Then I could begin again. And accept both my gifts and need-improvement areas. Amazingly I was having more difficulty accepting success than frailties.

As I was growing up girls were not encouraged to do more than scrub floors and find a husband. In my life compliments came from outside my family every other blue moon, if I was lucky. I wouldn’t have considered repeating encouraging words at home. My mother would have shot them down. Her aim had bulls-eye accuracy.

However, I gained other-side-of-the-coin benefits from my experience: encouragement matters. The facade a person presents is not necessarily who he or she is inside. I have met saints as well as people who are more than a little rough around the edges. I have never met anyone who wasn’t human. Usually superiority claims fail somewhere—so do inferiority assertions.

The pool doesn’t care who enters. It makes room for a timid-toe or an entire body, whether it belly flops or swan dives. Not many people have come to the Y pool today. The sky is gray, overcast. Rain is expected at any moment. But a woman somewhat younger than I am joins me and my husband. Something about her radiates common interest, although I have no idea what that could be. I ask her name and make a mental note of it. We are both interested in the arts.

Before long we share who we are. In more than a superficial I-like-chocolate-and-movies kind of way. I feel honored by her sincerity. She hasn’t had an easy life. Yet, she gives to her family and doesn’t complain about it.

She inspires me and I doubt she realizes how much. Her sharing verifies what I am learning. Body and spirit work together. Opportunities to grow abound. Even the fact that a gloomy day has kept the crowds down feels like a gift. We would not have had the freedom to express ourselves during an every-whisper-is-heard moment.

“I hope I see you later,” I tell her as my husband and I leave.

I mean it. But even if this time is meant only for the few minutes we shared it is worthwhile.

As I hang my wet towel on the back porch I look out into the yard and speak to my recent comrade, even though she is probably busy tending to matters more difficult than anything I will need to handle tonight:

You reminded me that beauty is not sterile…

A statue is chiseled, not daintily pecked…

Worthwhile takes a while…

And when the necessary speaks, love needs to be the final word.

Thanks.

learning to be brave and patient

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The Miraculous Stove Repair

Posted in kindness, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 29, 2015| 4 Comments »

One way to get the most out of life is to look upon it as an adventure. (William Feather)

One more headache. I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had in the past few weeks. A mix of unstable weather and stress are the probable causes.

Walking with a heated bean bag on the back of my neck comforts my upper spine but doesn’t do much for my posture. I look like a reluctant version of the Greek god Atlas. Oh sure, lying down would be a far better choice, but I have too much to do and not much time to do it.

The stove top is clogged and not covered by warranty because a cooler leaked over the top. Customer error. My own father once told me I should take a mechanical aptitude test. He wanted to see how low a score I would get. Even so, I investigate solutions through Google. And hope the results don’t lead to even more expensive repair.

I need this research time for another task: preparation for a writers’ workshop. Charm only gets a writer so far. I want to have some work completed—in something better than back-of-an-envelope form.

The battle is on. No weapons, only wits, and mine belong somewhere at the lowest ebb of my throbbing pain. I miraculously manage to get the gas burners to light. The nub on a Samsung doesn’t look like the one on a GE stove, but I clean it with a stripped bread tie. The rest of the stove also gets a scrubbing with a combination of hydrogen peroxide and baking soda.

For me seeing the flames rise in a perfect blue circle is equivalent to a toddler discovering a new chemical compound. Nothing short of miraculous.

Long before I am ready to leave for my conference I need to babysit for my youngest grandchild. I will leave about noon and she will bond with Grandpa.

Ella and I play. She creates an imaginary world and I follow her lead. Adventure at its best. The bean bag stays out of sight for a while. Not long enough, but for a while.

Uh, Ella, can you give me your secret? A touch of your adventure?

So we take turns leading Dora the Explorer and Diego down a plastic slide. This moment. Not the future, not the past.

The conference will present itself as an adventure. And it does. No time for pain…

Finally, several days after the dust settles so do the headaches. I find a new definition for gratitude.

dear stress

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Lake Huron, The Blue Water Motel, and Peace

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 22, 2015| 3 Comments »

The answers you seek never come when the mind is busy; they come when the mind is still, when silence speaks loudest. (Leon Brown)

If my husband never planned a vacation I suspect I would never travel. Getting from one side of a maze-like restaurant to the other is enough of a challenge for me. However, Jay has a knack for finding the best places at the best times. Perhaps some generous heavenly spirit guides his selection. We may never know, and it doesn’t matter. I’d rather savor the gift than analyze it.

The Blue Water Motel on Route 21 in Grand Bend, Ontario is walking distance from Lake Huron. Pinery Provincial Park is a fifteen-minute drive away. The owners of the motel act as if they were our next-door neighbors, ready to help when we need anything. The guests in other rooms act as if they have known us all their lives, even if we neglect to add eh at the end of our sentences now and then. Yes, Jay and I seem to be the only non-Canadians.

I consider this place a plus since we were not looking for wax museums and endless T-shirt shops. Sure, there is a shopping-restaurant-ice-cream strip with an old-fashioned boat-and-pier flavor to it, but it extends along one or two streets. In fact, Jay and I almost missed it. The lake and beach called louder.

Blue Water Motel07202015_0000

Jay, the quintessential extrovert, relaxes when he interacts with other people, maybe has a beer. (I am grateful that when he says one-beer he is referring to a twelve-ounce can of Alexander Keith, perhaps two, never a keg.) I love the opportunity to edit without worrying about the phone, preparing meals, or washing as many dishes as one sink can hold—even if I do like to cook. I can focus on deleting stray commas and reconstructing sentences that look as if they were prepared in a blender. My good friend, Nancy Johnson, helps me via e-mail from miles south.

Perhaps she and I are separated by an International border and a six-hour drive, but the motel’s free Wi-Fi makes it possible for us to communicate. She finds errors that sneak into what-I-think-should-be-on-the-page. And I smile the width of the room with gratitude. Thank you, Nancy. And thank you, God. You gave me a great friend!

I don’t stay indoors all day, however. Canada is far too beautiful for me to make that choice. And this sixty-nine-year-old body needs exercise or it will cramp into one arthritic knot. My shoes bring back souvenirs in the form of sand.

Let one photo speak.

Lake Huron shore

In the evening we discover the sunset on Lake Huron. While my hubby may be outspoken and I’m introspective, we both enjoy nature. Neither one of us needs to say much. The horizon takes over the show. And we savor the joy of simply being. I photograph a younger couple from the back. They appear anonymous, unidentifiable,  as both old and young watch the powers of nature. It is  greater than anyone silhouetted against it .

silhouette

In the silence of a departing day we watch as the sun touches the horizon. Intense light contrasts the darkness, accepts both, and gives birth to color. No journey is perfect, but the serendipity is worth the effort.

Peace upon all. And a special thank you to Mark and Laura Boogemans for a delightful stay at your motel. Maybe, if we are lucky, we can visit again next year.

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Riding the Storm, Playroom-Style

Posted in positive thinking, Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 26, 2015| 2 Comments »

Isn’t it strange how life won’t flow, like a river, but moves in jumps, as if it were held back by locks that are opened now and then to let it jump forward in a kind of flood? (from “Clear Light of Day”  (Anita Desai)

I watch Ella as she lives fully in the moment. Mickey Mouse, Dora the Explorer, and a miniature My Little Pony take turns going down a plastic slide. Grandma joins the adventures. Reality adjusts to fit the scene. However, Grandma sees the dust as the sun streams in from the window, the mess that needs to be cleaned later, and an agenda that won’t fit into twenty-four hours. Ella recognizes play and infinite possibilities.

Breathe in for a count of five; breathe out for a count of ten, I tell myself. Yes, I am capable of imagination. “The Curse Under the Freckles,” coming out in early August, is a middle-grade fantasy novel. However, transferring that experience from a controlled page into everyday life is another matter. I need the example of a child, the vision of a little girl who can have open-heart surgery and then, less than a week later, return to her toys as if no time had lapsed at all.

Right now I am praying—a lot—for friends and family facing huge challenges. One has a cyst on her brain; the other is in the hospital with Crohn’s disease. And, of course I always think about my companion with stage-four breast cancer. Several years ago I thought I had gall bladder problems. I wasn’t even close. There was a blood clot in the lower portion of my lung, a pulmonary embolism. The predisposition is hereditary.

I took far longer to recover than my granddaughter did. I was focused on Desai’s metaphorical current and Ella lives its river, locks, jumps, and all. Oh, she fought harder than I did! She hollered, “No,” every step of the way, but she was thoroughly present.

I pick up an old Ronald-McDonald-in-a-plane toy and fly it upside down. “Hey, turn this thing around, will you, Mawmaw?” I say. “I’m going to fall out!”

Ella laughs. Maybe I’m learning.

slide

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311 Internet Viruses, a Migraine, and a Savvy, Loyal Friend

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 21, 2015| 2 Comments »

Technology… is a queer thing. It brings you great gifts with one hand, and it stabs you in the back with the other. (Carrie Snow )

My husband Jay, our good friend Tom, and I are leaving our house to check out a second computer. Since writing is my work I spend a great deal of time at the keyboard.  This does not mean I want to behave like a little kid yelling mine, mine, mine! Besides, at the moment, our laptop is as cooperative as an overburdened mule—we are debating buying two new computers.

Several friends who work in the electronics field have checked-out our baby. They have never found the source of her inconsistency. Sometimes she operates reasonably well. At other times maneuvering through the Internet is like driving through a construction zone when traffic is stopped on both sides of the road: Bridge out. Workers at lunch. Ordinary operation to resume sometime in the future. Maybe.

As I lean down to get into the car a strange sensation hits me, a dizziness that isn’t exactly vertigo, but doesn’t feel in-upright-control either. I mention it, but use a tone of voice that suggests mild irritation—not the level of discomfort I’m actually feeling.

“Maybe it’s the change in temperatures,” Tom suggests. After all it is cool in the house, hot outside, and then cool again in the car. He could be right. And I don’t want to stay home. Jay scheduled this time with Tom last week. We need the help of someone who can navigate us through complicated possibilities.

Tom’s temperature-change suggestion sounds reasonable and I breathe slowly as if all were completely well. However, as we arrive before the huge array of laptop models, the real reason for my bizarre sensation arises. A migraine warning. Strange that I didn’t consider the possibility at the time. Great! I am going to be as useful as a wet handkerchief during a sneeze-attack.

“So what do you think?” Jay and Tom ask as they get close to a decision.

“Not much.” I have to admit the migraine is winning. “We’ll get something for Jay now. For me, later.” At this point my mate could have said, “I’ll take everything in aisle three and I would have responded, “Okay.” I wouldn’t have caught a word.

I’m sure we make the trek home, but all I recall is falling into bed and hoping for a short-term coma. Several hours later my head isn’t any better, and the new computer has taken a turn for the worse as well. Apparently our virus protection has been fighting our Internet server and putting up some serious interference. No wonder our laptop took so long to open anything. Our server had 311 foreign viruses on it, Trojan variety. Tom suggests a service he uses for fix-it-over-the-phone through Microsoft. The task took hours, but the cleaning process helped my computer as well. It now works reasonably well.

I now wonder about Internet servers. The news is filled with stories about compromised information. I am grateful that we had sufficient virus protection to keep baby laptop at least alive. However, the opportunity to sell services also becomes murky territory. Knowledge, in understandable language, is always welcome.

My migraine has now ended. I can see the short-term blessings clearer. While I was focusing on getting from the store to the bed and then back into my own consciousness I didn’t have the energy to enter the battles our buddy Tom was fighting for Jay and me. Now I can simply be grateful that he is savvy and generous. He arrived at our house at noon for lunch and left long after dark.

Yes, there is a lot of evil in the world. But there is a lot of good as well. Tom doesn’t want pay. He is grateful for homemade soup at noon and takeout Chinese for dinner. Thanks, Tom! You are worth your weight in megabytes.

two computers

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Team Payton and Bethany

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 9, 2015| 2 Comments »

To find someone who will love you for no reason, and to shower that person with reasons, that is the ultimate happiness. (Robert Brault)

Several years ago Jay and I were at the Y kiddie pool with Ella when the children from the special-needs class had their outdoor time.

“Ella looks like she could be Payton’s little sister,” one of the teachers commented.

The resemblance was amazing: blonde, blue-eyed girls, both with loveable auras. I found myself watching Ella’s look-alike and telling her she was incredible, but not to drink the pool water. A grandmother’s kind of response.

Recently I met the beautiful lady who calls herself Payton’s sister. She isn’t. Sisters aren’t always this close. Bethany has babysat for Payton since she was considered legally old enough to be a responsible child. Their meeting was a coincidence, or as one of my friends calls it, a God-incidence.

Bethany’s mother delivered frozen food to people who had difficulty picking it up. She knew Payton’s family because she had worked as an assistant at her school, but had been laid off during a financial cutback. Bethany had just happened to be tagging along when her mother made the delivery.  Bethany’s mother treated each child in the school as a valuable individual. Therefore, Bethany learned respect for all persons naturally.  Three-year-old Payton could easily reach her with the beauty of her spirit. A relationship developed.

Bethany could love Payton for no reason and shower her with reasons.

Payton does not speak. When she was six years old she was tested for autism. She has both autism and Down syndrome. These limitations do not stop her from being a good friend and an A-plus example of unconditional love.

Bethany has chosen to act as Payton’s legal guardian. Will this be difficult at times? Maybe, maybe not. No worthwhile choice is without risk.

Recently I spoke to someone who doesn’t know Ella. I told her about our granddaughter’s open heart surgery. The woman nodded, with me until I mentioned Down syndrome. Then came the stepped-back oh-I’m-sorry look. Neither Ella nor Payton are their tripled chromosome any more than my essence is summed up in my height, weight, or allergic status.

Meet Bethany and Payton. And find blessings.

collage made by Bethany in honor of National Down Syndrome Day

Bethany and Payton collage

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