Category: Personal Blog

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Books

“Some people won’t dog-ear the pages. Others won’t place the book facedown, pages splayed. Some won’t dare make a mark in the margin. Get over it. Books exist to impart their worlds to you, not to be beautiful objects to save for some other day. We implore you to fold, crack, and scribble on your books whenever the desire takes you. Underline the good bits, exclaim “YES!” and “NO!” in the margins. Invite others to inscribe and date the frontispiece. Draw pictures, jot down phone numbers and Web addresses, make journal entries, draft letters to friends or world leaders. Scribble down ideas for a novel of your own, sketch bridges you want to build, dresses you want to design. Stick postcards and pressed flowers between the pages.

When next you open the book, you’ll be able to find the bits that made you think, laugh, and cry the first time around. And you’ll remember that you picked up that coffee stain in the cafe where you also picked up that handsome waiter. Favorite books should be naked, faded, torn, their pages spilling out. Love them like a friend, or at least a favorite toy. Let them wrinkle and age along with you.” 

― Ella Berthoud & Susan Elderkin

Yesterday my friend Mary Beth told me she felt books found you.

I completely agree.

My favorite books look pretty battered. I love them and make every page mine. I don’t dog ear books, though. For some reason that’s not okay–BUT I do love to find books that other people have dog eared. Those pages I look at closely. What had someone else found so note-worthy?

Occasionally, our local library has books for sale. That type of sale has my attention immediately.

My first purchase was a little book by Ted Menten called, Gentle Closings, How to Say Good-bye to Someone You Love.

Today as I walked into my office that little book caught my eye.

Yes, I need to be reading about my healthcare but I noticed I’d flagged a few pages. I had to see what I found.

It was even more noteworthy today.

   “…In time I became a storyteller. Then I became involved in a process called closing, which is the way the living and the dying say “good-bye” and “I love you.”

   All of this just happened. I am not a doctor. I am not a psychoanalyst. I have no degrees on my office wall. I haven’t even got an office. I am simply a storyteller who goes where the stories need to be told, and where I can learn new stories. My training was all on the job.

   The children, and later their parents, taught me everything I know. The nurses and the doctors shared their expertise with me as well. Everything I experienced made me re-examine everything I had ever thought or believed. 

   Since we are traveling together, I thought I’d share what I’ve learned with you. You don’t have to believe what I believe, or question what I question, or even come to any of the same conclusions. We’ll just walk together and talk things over. 

   I believe that there is a supreme being, a creator, because when I look around at the wonder and beauty of life, I can find no other reasonable explanation. 

   I like the idea of prayer. I think it is more sane to talk to someone else than it is to talk to yourself. (At first I had a problem with unanswered prayer until little Susan, age seven, explained to me: “That’s simple. God’s answer was no.”)

   I like ghosts and reincarnation, too. A mystic once described my grandmother as an aura that followed me and protected me. That seems right enough; it’s what she did before she died. I support recycling, so I suppose it is only natural to accept reincarnation. I might like to come back as something really special and magical like a butterfly or a teddy bear. 

   Heaven is a good idea, too. I like reunions; I like all that hugging and kissing and tears of joy when old friends get back together. 

   I believe that loves gives the best return on investment. 

   I believe that truth is like a straight line–the shortest distance between two points. 

   I believe in second chances, and third chances, and fourth chances. 

   I believe that listening is essential to loving.  

   I believe in grief and sorrow and tears flowing like Niagara Falls. Tears mean something. They mean we’re alive and feeling. 

   I believe that death is a friend, a fabulous dancer who will twirl me away in my last waltz. 

   I believe in taking the time to say good-bye and not putting it off until another day. Because more than anything, 

   I believe in love.    

~Ted Menten~

I am thankful this book reached out to me today.

It is exactly what I needed.

I am…

B…simply being…

~Peace~

 

 

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Priorities

“Sometimes exhaustion is not a result of too much time spent on something, but of knowing that in its place, no time is spent on something else.” 

― Joyce Rachelle

I’ve been reading about Medicare and supplemental health insurance the past two days.

My mind is full and feeling pretty dull at the moment.

In reality, I wanted to be writing…or working in the yard…or making those lemon bars…

I hung in there and I learned a lot. Unfortunately, there’s a lot more waiting for me.

I’ve reach my limit.

It is time for all that new knowledge to age a bit in my mind.

In the meantime, I’ll share another prayer by Marie Shriver. Her book, I’ve Been Thinking, has influenced me a lot this summer. It’s been great sharing it with you.

This prayer reminds me to save some time in my day to talk with God.

Dear God, may I spend time with you every day, quieting the cares and the concerns that make so much noise in my mind, heart, and spirit, so I can hear your wisdom and feel the love you’ve given me every day of my life.  Amen ~Maria Shriver~

I am…

B…simply being…

~Peace~

 

 

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The Messenger

But in real life things don’t go smoothly. At certain points in our lives, when we really need a clear-cut solution, the person who knocks at our door is, more likely than not, a messenger bearing bad news. It isn’t always the case, but from experience I’d say the gloomy reports far outnumber the others. The messenger touches his hand to his cap and looks apologetic, but that does nothing to improve the contents of the message. It isn’t the messenger’s fault. No good to blame him, no good to grab him by the collar and shake him. The messenger is just conscientiously doing the job his boss assigned him. And this boss? That would be none other than our old friend Reality.” 

― Haruki Murakami

Yesterday my very own personal messenger stopped by to deliver a message. This message served to remind me exactly why I’ve often said reality sucks. In a matter of minutes, my world took on a slight tilt.

I needed some time to think.

If nothing else, I’m usually adept in finding ways to escape.

One this hot August day, I decided my mode of escape would be to go to an estate sale. It was not far from our house. It’d been publicized because it was at the home of a well-known retired astronaut. Those of us who grew up in the 60’s and 70’s know our space history and idolized our space heroes.

When I arrived at the sale, I’m pretty sure many waiting beside me were there just to see a place Captain Jim Lovell lived for part of his life. Hey, that was part of the reason I was there! This was confirmed by the fact many who walked out of the sale carried nothing–only the big smiles on their faces.

In hindsight, an estate sale may not have been my wisest choice for making a break from real life. Even on a good news day, I find these types of sales a stark reminder of the final days of life–not to mention it is a not so subtle reminder to get my own shit in order.

I walked through the rooms, thinking about many things. Not much caught my eye–maybe my mind was too preoccupied. As time passed I felt I’d received guidance and encouragement. Maybe it was left over energy from the miracle we call Apollo 13?

Earlier in the day I’d asked for help from my angels and spiritual guides. I asked for input in how to help my friends when they face crisis in their lives.

That help would come with conditions.

In order to help others I could no longer dodge my own old baggage. Dealing with that would not be so easy. I knew with the help I’d asked for, I’d be able to heal myself as well as help those I love.

I feel as though the frame holding my tapestry has been enlarged–the mighty weaver has many more threads to add and intertwine–I am thankful.

Dear God, when my problems seem overwhelming, I trust you to take care of what I cannot. I choose to fix my gaze on you and trust in your mighty power. I know that nothing will happen that is outside of your knowledge or control. Teach me to find shelter in your presence, to follow you one day at a time, and to take the steps that will overcome the challenges I face.  Amen. ~Maria Shriver, I’ve Been Thinking~

I am…

B…simply being…

Have a safe and happy weekend. Know you are loved.

~Peace~ 

 

 

 

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Self-Compassion

“Awakening self-compassion is often the greatest challenge people face on the spiritual path.” 

― Tara Brach, True Refuge: Finding Peace and Freedom in Your Own Awakened Heart

I’ve noticed a new word being used for taking care of yourself. Self-care. I like it which means I probably over use it–the word–NOT the practice.

I’ve been searching for a word or phrase that describes what I’ve been so focused on these past few years. I found that phrase today–I am on my spiritual path in search of self.

I like that as well.

In my family it was stressed you never put yourself first. You took care of everyone else before yourself. Since I was a kid when this lesson was first taught, I was expected to be even more subservient.

This lesson is one of those childhood tapes that has played every single day and always comes in loud and clear. You never questioned it. It was just the way it was. Even talking about in now makes me uncomfortable.

Buried within those lesson notes is the word “should.” I’ve become very aware of the times I use that specific word. It falls into my sentence structure so naturally I don’t notice until I read it out loud. As I read my voice triggers an immediate shame response when I say the word, should.  Nearly every circumstance revolves around something I didn’t do but had the opportunity to do so. It’s about a choice I made to give myself a rest which automatically means I was neglecting the needs of someone else.

Oh, those old lessons are hard to unlearn.

I understand it won’t happen over night. Like so many things I’ve discovered on this path, it is another part of this amazing journey I’m on that is a work in progress.

“Remember, you have been criticizing yourself for years and it hasn’t worked. Try approving of yourself and see what happens.” 

― Louise L. Hay, You Can Heal Your Life

I am…

B…simply being…

God bless.

~Peace~

 

 

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The Unexpected

“The expected always happens” 

― Benjamin Disraeli

It was the coolest morning we’d had in weeks. A great day to take the dogs for a walk.

All of us were excited–it’s been hard on us–we all LOVE our daily walks.

The five of us are quite a sight, meandering back and forth across the narrow streets of our subdivision. This morning in particular we were all looking around at the changes that’d happened since we’d walked last–all those new smells had three canine noses pinned to the ground.

We’d gone about half a block when I noticed our Tibetan Terrier, Ruby, was on the trail of something especially interesting. Her nose was quickly scanning the area but came to an abrupt stop. She cocked her head to the side and shook it back and forth rapidly–then trotted off giving out a sharp cry. Her trot was awkward because she was favoring her right front paw. Something was wrong–

The reason became clear as Michael lifted her paw. As he brought up it up off the ground, a large black bumble bee fell to the ground.

Oh boy–she’d been stung and she was in pain.

Luckily, Michael was there to carry her home. Once we checked her out, we soaked her paw, iced it, and gave her Benadryl and pain meds. She’s definitely more comfortable but not quite okay–yet.

So, we’ve been on Ruby watch today. Not a bad assignment and one that could have resulted in some extra reading time. Honestly, all I’ve done is watch her and attempt to write a word or two.

I did find a prayer to share, though, and I think it is lovely.

Master of the Universe,

grant me the ability o be alone;

may it be my custom to go outdoors each day

among the trees and grass, among all growing things, 

and there may I be alone, and enter into prayer, 

to talk with the One that I belong to. 

May I express there everything in my heart,

and may all the foliage of the field, 

all grasses, trees, and plants,

may they all awake at my coming,

to send the powers of their life into the words of my prayer

so that my prayer and speech are made whole

through the life and spirit of all growing things,

which are made as one by their transcendent Source.

(Translated by Rabbi Shamai Kanter)

Rabbi Naomi Levy, To Begin Again

I am…

B…simply being…

God bless.

~Peace~

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Reaching Out

“One of the most important things you can do on this earth is to let people know they are not alone.” 

― Shannon L. Alder

Getting older certainly presents us all with some difficult times. Not that these experiences aren’t expected–we all know we are going to face health challenges, confirming the fact our time here is limited.

Even though I love my life in Texas, I’m far from most of my friends. I can’t just dash over with a casserole and a hug.

I needed to figure out a way to reach out without disrupting their lives as they adjusted to their new normal.

Texts. I could send texts.

So, I began my new morning ritual. First thing each morning I send out my morning greetings–some people I greet daily–others less frequently. Takes a few minutes and makes me feel like I’m still in touch.

I began this routine thinking I was doing this for them. What I’ve discovered should not have surprised me.

I look forward to these early morning conversations knowing each person can read and respond whenever they want–when “talking” with me is right for them. It’s a great example of a true win/win situation and one of the parts of my day always on my gratitude list.

My story time share today is simple–reach out so those you care about know you are thinking of them.

Just do it.

“Never underestimate the difference YOU can make in the lives of others. Step forward, reach out and help. This week reach to someone that might need a lift” 

― Pablo

I am…

B…simply being…

God bless, Y’all.

~Peace~

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Information Overload

“Age has given me what I was looking for my entire life – it has given me me . It has provided time and experience and failures and triumphs and time-tested friends who have helped me step into the shape that was waiting for me. I fit into me now. I have an organic life, finally, not necessarily the one people imagined for me, or tried to get me to have. I have the life I longed for. I have become the woman I hardly dared imagine I would be.”

― Anne Lamott, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith

I talked with my insurance broker today about Medicare and supplimental insurance.

My-oh-my!

She was excellent, sharing stories while giving me so much information filled with sound advice. To say my mind is on overload is an understatement.

One this cloudy Friday afternoon, I want to share a prayer by Rabbi Levy. I love reading her words. Whatever is going on in my life, she finds a way to speak to my soul. I hope you find solace as well.

God, I need to know that You are with me; that You hear my cry. I long to feel Your presence not just this day but every day. When I am week and in pain, I need to know You are beside me. That in itself is often comfort enough. I do not pretend to know Your ways, to know why this world You have created can be so beautiful, so magnificent, and yet so harsh, ugly, and so full of hate. The lot you have bestowed on my is a heavy one. I am angry. I want to know why; why the innocent must suffer, why life is do full of grief. There are times when I want to have nothing to do with You. When to think of You brings nothing but confusion and ambivalence. And there are times, like this time, when I seek to return to You, when I feel the emptiness that comes when I am far from You. Watch over me and my loved ones. Forgive me for all that I have not been. Help me to appreciate all that I have, and to realize all that I have to offer. Help me to find a way back to You, so that I may never be alone.   Amen 

Rabbi Naomi Levy, To Begin Again

I am…

B…simply being…

God bless.

~Peace~

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Talking with God

For the past few years, I’ve been searching for prayers. I have a good source of the old standby Catholic prayers which feel a little like comfort food to me–I often find myself reciting them without putting a lot of thought behind the words.

Now, as I age and continue my quest for a deeper understanding of myself, I’m looking for a less traditional prayers. I want to add to my prayer book words that feel like I’m having a conversation with God. For me, that’s how I would define prayer–talking with God.

In my reading, I’ve stumbled upon some great quotes. One quote by Mark Twain struck a loud chord with me today because he talks about profanity. I’ve been working in the yard a lot which takes a toll in the Texas heat. When I get overly tired, my F-word filter is the first one to fall way too low. I’m thinking I probably owe a few people an apology.

“Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.”

[Mark Twain, a Biography]

― Mark Twain

I ended my yard work earlier today meaning I’m less tired. I believe my filters are now in working order. In light of that fact, I think I’ve found the perfect prayer to share.

Prayer of an Anonymous Abbess:

Lord, thou knowest better than myself that I am growing older and will soon be old. Keep me from becoming too talkative, and especially from the unfortunate habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject and at every opportunity.

Release me from the idea that I must straighten out other peoples’ affairs. With my immense treasure of experience and wisdom, it seems a pity not to let everybody partake of it. But thou knowest, Lord, that in the end I will need a few friends.

Keep me from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point.

Grant me the patience to listen to the complaints of others; help me to endure them with charity. But seal my lips on my own aches and pains — they increase with the increasing years and my inclination to recount them is also increasing.

I will not ask thee for improved memory, only for a little more humility and less self-assurance when my own memory doesn’t agree with that of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong.

Keep me reasonably gentle. I do not have the ambition to become a saint — it is so hard to live with some of them — but a harsh old person is one of the devil’s masterpieces.

Make me sympathetic without being sentimental, helpful but not bossy. Let me discover merits where I had not expected them, and talents in people whom I had not thought to possess any. And, Lord, give me the grace to tell them so.

Amen” 

― Margot Benary-Isbert

I am…

B…simply being…

~Peace~

 

I am so fortunate I have an amazing photographer in my circle of Facebook friends. Thank you, Mr. Chuck Hackenmiller, for allowing me to use your wonderful photos as part of my blog. You can see many of Mr. Hackenmiller beautiful pictures on the Facebook page, I grew up in Iowa. Please note, no re-use of this photo without permission from Chuck Hackenmiller, Boone, Iowa.  

 

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Memories of a Cowboy Pastor

Life is the sum of all our choices.  ~Unknown~

My adventure in the used bookstore last Saturday resulted in finding a second book which seemed to be waiting for me to appear.

That book, The Salt Block, Heartwarming Stories from a Cowboy-Pastor, is pictured above.

As I read the title, I was reminded of a cowboy church service I attended in a rodeo arena in Buena Vista, Colorado.

It was a hot Sunday morning during the Chaffee County Fair. Our family was meeting at the rodeo grounds to attend the cowboy church service together.

It’d been a difficult year. We’d all faced personal challenges. Some of these trials put a lot of strain on our relationships with each other. In light of that fact, I was encouraged when everyone showed up.

Walking together we joined the scattering of people already in the small corral. I’d never been to a cowboy church service. I had no idea what to expect. We did not have to wait for long.

Right on schedule, a tall, slender man dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved plaid shirt, and shined black boots strode to the front of the crowd. He removed his hat and opened his well-worn Bible. Yes, this was the man we’d all been waiting to hear.

The moment he began to speak, the crowd grew quiet. He did not have a microphone. His deep voice was steady and clear, carrying easily across the arena as little dust devils stirred up in the mid morning winds. He spoke slowly, taking time to connect with each of us, nodding slightly as he made eye contact.

As he spoke the clusters of people moved inward, drawing the circle closer together, giving each of us a chance to acknowledge one another. Even though we were all strangers I felt at ease with this gathering of souls. It was peaceful and eerily quiet as we  listened, focusing as the word of God was shared along with our preacher’s personal stories and life lessons. How fun it was to laugh with him as he gave examples of the mistakes and misjudgments he’d made along the way. The power of a good story was very evident that day.

I have no idea how long we stood together that sunny morning.  Time stood still as our eclectic group of people grew closer and closer while our cowboy man of God reminded us that Jesus had died for our sins and we were all forgiven. By his sacrifice we were all saved. We could leave with peace in our hearts.

At that moment, all the problems I’d been carrying were lifted off my shoulders. As I looked around at my family, I could see their burdens fall to the wayside as well.

Powerful does not begin to describe this simple service held in a corral on a Sunday morning many years ago. Tears flowed as we held hands while praying The Lord’s Prayer. After that amen, long, strong, and sincere hugs were shared as we smiled, wishing each other safe travels.

Seeing this little book on Saturday reminded me God is with me and shows up in some of the most unlikely places.

I was blessed then as I am now.

“I don’t know if I continue, even today, always liking myself. But what I learned to do many years ago was to forgive myself. It is very important for every human being to forgive herself or himself because if you live, you will make mistakes- it is inevitable. But once you do and you see the mistake, then you forgive yourself and say, ‘Well, if I’d known better I’d have done better,’ that’s all. So you say to people who you think you may have injured, ‘I’m sorry,’ and then you say to yourself, ‘I’m sorry.’ If we all hold on to the mistake, we can’t see our own glory in the mirror because we have the mistake between our faces and the mirror; we can’t see what we’re capable of being. You can ask forgiveness of others, but in the end the real forgiveness is in one’s own self. I think that young men and women are so caught by the way they see themselves. Now mind you. When a larger society sees them as unattractive, as threats, as too black or too white or too poor or too fat or too thin or too sexual or too asexual, that’s rough. But you can overcome that. The real difficulty is to overcome how you think about yourself. If we don’t have that we never grow, we never learn, and sure as hell we should never teach.” 

― Maya Angelou

I am…

B…simply being…

~Peace be with you~

 

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Unexpected Treasures

“Sometimes the best books are hidden gems that you didn’t even know were out there!”
― Carmela Dutra

Saturday, after working on my gardens for the past two days, I decided I needed a reward.

Deciding what it would be was easy.

I was going to check out the used book store I’d been driving by for the past few months.

“It was like walking into a treasure trove of books, hoarded by pirate librarians.” 

― Pseudonymous Bosch, The Name of This Book Is Secret

I was really psyched to explore this place.

From the outside, it seemed very small. In fact, as I parked my car–one of two in the parking lot–I began to wonder if it was worth my time.

As I walked through the door, I felt I’d entered another dimension. I was completely engulfed by books. All around me were rooms and rooms filled with books. Each space labeled with handwritten signs–Westerns, Romance, Horror, Mysteries, Self-Help, New Age, Religion, Cooking, Reference…shelves covered every wall from floor to ceiling with over flow books standing in stacks on the floor.

I had found the mother lode of books.

In this amazing place I found two little books sitting in spots where they seemed to call out to me–like they’d been waiting for me a very long time.

The first book is pictured above.

The cover is worn and heavily creased, the original price clearly visible, $1.65. The date of publication noted as November 20, 1975.

The pages are brittle and yellowed without any inside wear or markings. The most surprising part of this little book was it was filled with its own treasures.

Pressed between pages were several prayer cards, a Christmas card from Rome signed by Father John wishing the recipient a Happy New Year and telling them they’d been remembered in his Christmas Midnight Mass, a book mark from the March of Dimes, a tiny drawing of a curly-haired girl dressed in brown button dress, wearing a straw hat, holding a bouquet of yellow and blue flowers, and two beautiful prayers written by Helen Steiner Rice.

I’d like to share one of those prayers with you today:

Often we pause and wonder

    When we kneel down to pray—

Can God really hear

    The prayers that we have to say…

But if we keep praying

    And talking to HIM, 

He’ll brighten the soul

    That was clouded and dim, 

And as we continue

    Our burden seems lighter, 

Our sorrow is softened

    And our outlook is brighter

For though we feel helpless

    And alone when we start, 

Our prayer is the key

    That opens the heart, 

And as our heart opens

    The dear Lord comes in

 And the prayer that we felt

    We could never begin

Is so easy to say

    For the Lord understands 

And gives us the new strength

    By the touch of His hands.

~Helen Steiner Rice

I am…

B…simply being…

God bless you and may you find treasures of your own.

~Peace~