Author: barbarajoburtonhibdon

I am a retired healthcare professional. My husband and I moved to Texas full time last March. We have lived in our new home now for one year and I am beginning to feel like a Texan. We moved here from the Denver area. We lived in our neighborhood there for over 20 years so it was a big move for us both. I worked as a pediatric cardiac sonographer in the Denver area for 26 years. In my first life I worked at a small hospital in Waterloo, Iowa, where I was a radiologic technologist and a very green cardiac sonographer. It was my newly found passion for echocardiography that motivated me to leave my home town and move to Colorado. I was a very classic example of not knowing what you didn't know in every sense of the word. Retirement is giving me the time to reflect on and write about my life. Until now my time was spent on building my career. Now I feel it is time to share some of my life's experiences. I hope by telling my stories I can help others who have had or are going through similiar challenges in their life.
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Bud

When you have dogs, you witness their uncomplaining acceptance of suffering, their bright desire to make the most of life in spite of the limitations of age and disease, their calm awareness of the approaching end when their final hours come. They accept death with a grace that I hope I will one day be brave enough to muster.”
― Dean Koontz, A Big Little Life: A Memoir of a Joyful Dog

I need to write something today that would boost my spirits. For the past few days, I have binge-watched, This Is Us. 

I’m emotionally drained and completely cried out.

Because I have been focused on my dogs today–the next few days are filled with dog grooming appointments–what better way to take my mind in a different direction than to write about my dogs?

Meet Bud.

Bud is our oldest Lhasa Apso, turning eleven years old last January. We call him our Nebraska farm dog because those are his roots. He is the healthiest dog to ever grace our home. No matter how much his back hurts or his hind legs catch, he is always ready for his walk. He never ever allows us to sit anywhere alone. He’s not a lap dog, but he is usually close enough to have his nose on foot or in your shoe. He is 18 pounds of absolute devotion.

Bud is named for my Dad, whose nickname was Bud. This fact shoots up a warning flag–kinda like those annoying advertisements that pop up on your favorite websites! When you name someone or something after another important person in your life, be ready for a whole new level of “concern” when things are not going as usual.

Bud joined us after our youngest Lhasa, Jessie, died very unexpectedly. Most of the dogs in my life had lived very long lives. To lose Jessie at eight years of age took me completely off guard. I was lost.

Michael was grasping at ways to help me. He called and asked me to check the paper for puppies. In his opinion, the only way to help me was to call in the serious dog healers–otherwise known as puppies.

I grabbed the ad section of The Denver Post–this was eleven years ago–and searched. I found an ad that read: Three Lhasa Apso puppies for sale, two males, one female. The phone number was given with the note to ask for Vivian.

My heart stopped.

Vivian is NOT a common name. My Mom’s name was Vivian. Holding my breath, I called the number. Vivian told me she could send a picture of the only puppy she had left. If I was interested, I needed to let her know because she was bringing the other puppies to the Denver area that weekend.

I opened the email and fell in love with that handsome boy. His name had been decided the minute I began to talk with Vivian. He was Bud.

I am…

B…simply being…

I love you.

Peace

 

 

 

 

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Thank You For Your Time

It’s the day after my birthday. It was a wonderful day filled with unexpected wishes and love-filled gifts.

Thank you.

I wonder if I am the only one who has just a little sadness sneak in the day after that day of celebrating your special day? I am not sure exactly why. Maybe it’s because it is the only day I know where you have blanket permission to be and do whatever you want. Come on, it’s your birthday.

I am very good at taking advice–usually. I did exactly what I wanted to do all day long. I read all my cards. I opened all my gifts. I ate what I wanted for dinner. I opened and enjoyed a wonderful bottle of wine.

I relished every single minute.

As my day played out, I became aware that each gift came with a bonus. Each card, note, email, or phone call came with a generous investment of time. Minutes each person withdrew from time banks that were already taxed and overdrawn. Everyone made a conscious decision to spend time on me.

Thank you.

I am very blessed.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love and peace Y’all.

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They Say It’s Your Birthday

Sixty-four years ago today, I began this grand adventure called life.

I have been fortunate and very blessed–not to mention just plain ol’ lucky.

By the grace of God, people have been placed in my life at times when I needed them the most. Now, the question may arise as to whether some helped me or if they actually lead me off course for a while. Either way, whichever column you place people in, they all played a part in allowing me to grow and become the person I am today. Because of these wonderful and eclectic folks, I am alive. I am well. I am.

Sounds to me like it’s time for a walk down memory lane so I can share a story.

The summer after I completed eighth grade, my family moved from the small town of Traer, Iowa, to the city of Waterloo, Iowa. I don’t remember when I realized this huge change was happening. My family was not big on family meetings or sharing information. What I’d expected to be the start of my freshman year of high school, with kids I had been with since kindergarten, morphed into years of unforeseen changes and challenges. All that was comfortable and familiar in my life was packed away and dismissed that summer. Like it or not, I was off to a new life in a new town in a new house in a new school with new kids.

This was one of the most difficult times in my life. By luck or by an act of God, I landed in a place where I found wonderful and generous friends. Kids who welcomed me into their circle of friends. Wonderful people who are still in my life today.

That year my birthday fell on a day when we did not have school because it was opening day for the National Cattle Congress. What? Could anything sound more Iowan? Cattle Congress is an annual event that’s been part of the Waterloo culture for decades. It was and remains a mixture of a stock show, a fair, and a carnival. It was the perfect place for a group of young kids to go and hang together while checking out all the out-of-town boys. I was so excited. My new group of friends asked me to go with them AND my Dad and stepmother said I could go.

I did not realize my friends knew it was my birthday. Not only was it my birthday, but it was also my new friend, Margie’s birthday. At the end of the day, after talking and learning about the new people in my life, both Margie and I had birthday presents to open. The gifts were supposed gag gifts–meant to be funny. To me, that present was my new lifeline. As I type, I can still see that little-ribbed glass jar which held green, medicinal smelling stick deodorant.  A joke? Okay, but to me, it was a precious gift. Something that gave me hope for my future.

This is such a nice memory to have and carry with me as I continue on my life journey. It is also a reminder that a gift does not have to be big to be special. Kinda like that surprise phone call I just had with my friend, Dave. That was so thoughtful. Thank you, Dave.

There is so much joy in an act of simple kindness.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love Y’all.

Peace

 

 

 

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Ahhh, Friday!

“It’s 4:58 on Friday afternoon. Do you know where your margarita is?”
― Amy Neftzger

It has been a long and busy Friday here in Hibdonville. I’ve finally found my adult beverage. It is past time to put my feet up and my busy mind to rest.

As the weekend begins, please stay patient with each other. Remember many walking among us are bravely facing huge challenges every minute of every day.

Be especially kind.

Pray.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love Y’all.

Peace.

 

 

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My New Ritual

I began my day by writing in my new journal. It was my new, but very familiar, ritual. My notebook of choice is NOT fancy. I’d grabbed it a couple of weeks ago at the Dollar General store for $0.99. I added a bunch of old stickers to the cover so it wouldn’t look so much like some kid’s grade school project–my attempt at art may have made it look even more like that very thing. My writing instrument–a good old #2 pencil. It’s simple. It’s easy. It’s erasable. The added bonus–whenever my very sturdy and reliable pencil needs sharpening, I have a real reason for taking a thought break.

It was soothing giving my thoughts their freedom, allowing them to crawl out of my foggy morning head onto the paper. There was no scurrying about with each idea fighting with the one ahead of it. It took patience and some writing around the bush techniques. Slowly things came together. I found myself falling into my old routine of writing three pages–the number of pages suggested by Julia Cameron in, The Artist’s Way.  As I did many years ago, I ended my pages with thank you’s to God. My chosen number has always been five–and that is what I carried into my new ritual.

As I planned, I did all this first thing this morning. No news. No social media. Interesting, by my taking control, there was no internal struggle.

As I wrote this morning, I had a thought about the practice of Tashlich, the “casting off sins.” I am a gold medal champion when it comes to worrying. What if I used this beautiful tradition as a model for dealing with my own moments of uncertainty? Living on a hill, could I use the wind as my mode of transporting that type of negativity away from me and out of my future?

I like that.

I think I’m going to add that to my daily practice. I’ll save the walks to the river for special times.

I am…

B…simply being…

There continues to be a lot of pain in our world. Please pray for each other.

I love Y’all.

Peace

 

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I Need…

I need a ritual.

I need an intimate ceremony where I can celebrate the person I was, the person I am, and the person waiting to be.

I’ve thought about this since reading and writing about Rosh Hashana. The description of “casting off of sin” made a big impression on me. It was not at all like my childhood memories of going to confession.  In my mind, we’re talking the same basic concept. How much more powerful would it be to make the journey to the river, break off pieces of bread while thinking of past sins, then throwing each sin into the flowing current. The physical connection in each segment of this ritual is healing to me. Instead of feeling shame for my sins, I have a sense of personal power enabling me to make the changes I need in my future.

I like that feeling.

I’ve read about other rituals. Not surprisingly, many of them are part of Jewish traditions. A bathing ritual or mikvah was interesting to me. In recent years, this tradition has regained acceptance because the ritual has evolved to meet the needs of today’s people and today’s world.

Who says rituals can’t change? Who says I can’t make my own bathing ritual?

I’ve wondered if that wasn’t what was missing when I retired. Would it have been different for me if there had been a ritual commemorating that tremendous life-changing event? Would it make other transitions easier for me if I had a ritual that enabled me to adjust physically and mentally?

Okay, here’s my plan for the next month.

For the next thirty days, I will begin my day with thirty minutes of journaling and reading. No social media or other news until I have my soul time.

Any joiners?

I am…

B…simply being…

I love you and wish you peace.

 

 

 

 

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Rosh Hashana

Tomorrow at sundown, the first of the Jewish high holidays, Rosh Hashana, will begin. This holiday signals the beginning of the Jewish new year.

Years ago, one of the physicians I worked with would talk with me about Rosh Hashana. I listened because I knew it was important to him. I was young. I was not ready or engaged enough to listen fully and hear all he shared with me.

The relationship the two of us had was something I took for granted. We were friends. We were both able to leave our work roles at the door and be ourselves. We could lean on each other one minute and get upset with each other the next. It wasn’t until I left Iowa that I realized I had been gifted a very rare and unique friend.

The last Rosh Hashana I remember sitting with him and toasting the new year was the year the holiday fell on my birthday. It was significant, he said, it meant the year ahead would be a special one for me.

I thought of my friend many times these past few days while I read about Rosh Hashana. It seemed appropriate to me since the part of the holiday he stressed was the looking back on the year passed. It was important for him to look carefully at mistakes he’d made so those mistakes would not be carried on.

I have to tell you, reading about this holiday is overwhelming. It was difficult to know where and when to stop. One huge reward of the research was being reminded of how beautifully the Jewish faith uses symbolism. An example follows which illustrates the tradition of Tashlich, which translates to “casting off sins.”

In some communities, according to Lesli Kippelman Ross’ article found in myjewishlearning.com, before sunset the evening of Rosh Hashana, people walk to a running stream or river, throwing in pieces of bread. These breadcrumbs symbolize their sins of the past year, tossed away so they are not carried into the new year. As the crumbs travel downstream, the last verses of the prophet, Micah are read: “He will take us back in love; He will cover up our iniquities, you will cast all their sins into the depths of the sea.”

Special Rosh Hashana services are held at the synagogue where a ram’s horn, the Shofar,  is blown. The sound of the Shofar is part of the high holidays and is used to remind people to go within for deep personal reflection.

Rabbi Yonah Hain of Columbia/Barnad Hillel, tells us that the Shofar is an alarm telling us to take stock. He was asked, is this holiday about celebrating the past year or is it about reflecting upon the lessons learned? Rabbi Hain feels it is up to the individual to determine what the year has been. What is more important is to put those lessons learned into action over the months to come. Go out and greet your family and friends, he says,  with a sincere and strong “Shana tova.” Shana tova translates to “may it be a great year.”

I am…

B…simply being…

I love you.

Shana tova

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Seeking

Growing up, I lived on a street that had churches on three of the four corners. There was the Methodist Church, the Ripley Congregational Church, and the Presbyterian Church. Our house we pretty much dead center between all three.

My Mom was a pretty strict Catholic. I’m not sure why, but going to other church services was never encouraged. I remember wondering if “the Church” was afraid if we went to another church we would want to stop being a Catholic? I mean, did we have a choice?

In my little section of the world(quite literally), I had a unique way to learn about other Christian religions. The ministers of two of the three churches had kids who were my age. Over the years, I  had the opportunity to meet three different families. The added bonus–all of them had girls. Spread across my early childhood years were my friends Angie, Ellen, and Joyce.

My lessons were learned from a real-life, everyday perspective. I saw each family interact with each other in real-time. A heads-up for all you adults out there. Adults don’t always see kids nor do they realize how observant kids are. Nor do adults appreciate how well kids hear, not only the words said, but the tone of voice used to express them.  These things create a problem. That problem lies in the fact that what kids lack in understanding they make up for in their ability to absorb emotions. In my own life and in sharing the family lives of my friends, preacher’s kid or not, I learned that God is an equal opportunity distributor of crap.

Where does all this lead me? It made me a seeker. It made me want to learn about other belief systems and learn what their teachers have to teach me. Not just religious beliefs but what does each teacher say about our souls–our spirituality.

I have been blessed with wonderful mentors and great teachers over the years. One of my favorite teachers struggled to teach me about his Jewish faith. At the time, I was just not ready. Now I am.

This week marks the beginning of Rosh Hashana. There is a lot to learn about this high holiday. I’ll share some of what I’ve found tomorrow.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love and Peace, Y’all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Handwritten Thank You Notes

Make it a habit to tell people thank you. To express your appreciation, sincerely and without the expectation of anything in return. Truly appreciate those around you, and you’ll soon find many others around you. Truly appreciate life, and you’ll find that you have more of it.

Ralph Marston

I have had a list of thank you notes to write for several weeks now. Today was the day to get them done and in the mail. I am pleased to say, mission accomplished.

Why was it important for me to hand write thank you notes? It’s simple. The time and the effort put into what was given to me was too important to acknowledge with an easy email.

A handwritten note takes planning and a greater investment of time. For me, it means I have to concentrate long enough to actually spell correctly and keep my writing legible. Those two things alone are not small tasks these days. There is a plus side of a handwritten note. As I go through all those now antiquated steps of actually mailing a letter, the feelings I have will be felt just as strongly by the person taking my note out of their mailbox. What was once the primary way we communicated with each other is now a rare occurrence.

If there is someone in your life you need or want to thank, sit down and write them a REAL thank you note. The joy you feel and the rebounding joy you receive just may surprise you.

Have a good weekend.

I am…

B…simply being…

Love Y’all.

Peace

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Happy Birthday, Sue

“This life is what you make it. No matter what, you’re going to mess up sometimes, it’s a universal truth. But the good part is you get to decide how you’re going to mess it up. Girls will be your friends – they’ll act like it anyway. But just remember, some come, some go. The ones that stay with you through everything – they’re your true best friends. Don’t let go of them. Also remember, sisters make the best friends in the world. As for lovers, well, they’ll come and go too. And baby, I hate to say it, most of them – actually pretty much all of them are going to break your heart, but you can’t give up because if you give up, you’ll never find your soul mate. You’ll never find that half who makes you whole and that goes for everything. Just because you fail once, doesn’t mean you’re gonna fail at everything. Keep trying, hold on, and always, always, always believe in yourself, because if you don’t, then who will, sweetie? So keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life’s a beautiful thing and there’s so much to smile about.”
― Marilyn Monroe

Today, my youngest sister, Sue, celebrates her 60th birthday.

How is that possible?

After failing to craft some witty and original tribute or share some type of sisterly wisdom, I found these words of Marilyn Monroe. What could I add? Marilyn covered it all in one simple paragraph.

Happy Birthday, dear Sue. May you always find something to smile about and so much more.

I love you.

I am…

B…simply being…

Peace