Dear friends,
Smitty and I just got back from a gourmet meal prepared by our dear friend Nonna. I am about to burst, and my little boy needs some TLC, so this will be a really short post tonite. Nonna was one of the folks on the front lines with us back in the early days of the crash that happened 9 months ago, on a Sunday, tomorrow. I'll never forget her figuring out my bills one night, sorting through Stephen's files while I was in my typical daze, saying to someone "can you picture her doing this?" Absolutely brilliant comment from a brilliant and precious friend! I couldn't add 2 and 2 if I had a calculator, never mind call ez pass to figure out the best plan with all the trips to Sunnyview, or cancel car insurance on a car that really didn't even qualify as a moving vehicle anymore... I also remember her telling me not to drive my car after I was in it for the first time after the crash and the brake light came on. She immediately called Mike R., (who came to the rescue as did so many of you), and he fixed the thing (not to mention putting on new tires too)! When I think of the condition I was in then, I honestly don't know what I would have done without our families and the family of God to do the heavy lifting. Not to mention friends from every corner and even some we didn't know! I could weep with gratitude when I recall my brother in law Richard getting me a hamburger the first time I felt like eating anything. Richard was like some kind apparition when he visited from VA, always seeming to be just where I needed him at the time. No doubt he was in the employ of the Great One. I love you, Richard! (Both sides of our families were wonderful to us. I love them all so much more having seen them see us at the bottom...)
So here we are, three quarters of the way to where Dr. Rosati said we might begin to function in a real and lasting "normal". The one year mark has always been waiting for us out there. It's not a magic number, only a sign post on a pilgrim road that will continue for all of us until the day Jesus returns or calls us home. There will always be something special and profound, beautiful and devastating about this year in our history. But it is indeed becoming history. History always lives inside of us. For Stephen, the metal in his bones, the cane in his hand, are daily reminders. For Hannah, a dental plate and scars in and out keep November 8 tucked into a place it is impossible to forget. Some of the memories are painful. But many are saturated with a virulent love, from God and man.
Goodnight, dear friends. I am thinking about Oscar Lewis this evening, carrying around his own brand of scars from a wildly bad decision I'm quite sure he thinks about every day. I pray he will find the mercy and grace of a God who never, ever fails. The Great One met all kinds of people in all kinds of prisons while he walked this earth. Some are far worse than the kinds with locks and bars. But there were none that could keep out His light and freedom for the soul. That's true for Oscar Lewis. It's true for us all.
Have a beautiful day on Sunday. If you're reading this late tonite (Saturday), step outside and see if you can count the stars. Not a chance you'll succeed...May the Almighty Creator of all be ever praised!
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
Day 270 Enjoy the "Handbreadth"
Dear friends,
This is my friend, marvelous Mary Louise. We have been friends for more than 20 years, and I have benefited in a thousand ways from her wisdom and optimism. She spent her gift certificate to take me to lunch today at a local middle eastern restaurant. As usual, I left her company feeling uplifted and blessed. She showed up frequently at Sunnyview, always with a vanilla frapp in her hand for Miss Rejoice. On some of those terribly frightening days, she was there with a cheerful heart and a ready hand. She's dying reading this, because in addition to being a fabulous person, she is a picture of humility. She's the kind of friend I hope all of you have. She's very deep in the Great One's camp. If I were the devil, I wouldn't mess with her...
Relationships are the meat and potatoes of life. It is difficult to make time for our friends. The "Tyranny of the Urgent" is ever biting at our heels. Since the accident I still struggle with that. But now, I make different choices. Better to hang out a few extra minutes with my children and hang the vacuuming. Better to go to lunch with a friend than weed the garden. (Joan, it is a disaster!) Better to have time with the Great One than watch the news. I don't always accomplish these priorities. But I try a whole lot harder to now. None of us knows what tomorrow will bring.
I was looking at the online science program I'm using with David this fall, and the chapter on the chemistry of life caught my attention. Carbon, it seems, is the essential element that makes up living things. Carbon is the foundational chemical for organic compounds. You and I, we are made up of a ton of carbon. Well, I look at relationships, with God and man, as the carbon of the inner life. Not the physical, seen world, but the essence of our true selves. I remember a question Jim Z. told me he asks his clients: "If you could have all the money in the world, but no one to share it with, to share the experiences or things it could buy, would you want it?" And of course every sane person would say no. What joy would there be in a life devoid of other people? I mean, solitude is great (I'm always looking for more of that!), but it does not a complete life make. This is not a ride you do solo. It was never meant to be.
By the way, thanks for sending me some cool verbs! You guys really rock the fun house! Since it's Friday, I thought we might end on a goofy, completely random note. (My kids always use that word "random". And they use it randomly...
"
* Domino had her first trip to the vet today. She growled at a large dog. She also has a heart murmur (nothing serious).
* Joseph got his first complete paycheck today. His response: "Why do they take so much out in taxes?"
* Sam and Matt (my nephews) go home tomorrow. Love those boys. I will be picking up Lego's for a week!"
* One week from tomorrow we leave for the beach. Bill and Cindy's beach house awaits! (Thank you, thank you my dear New Jersey friends!)
* Smitty calls me "B" for bunny rabbit. He has called me that since before we were married. During the week before vacation, as I pack, clean like a maniac and cook ahead, he will be hoping I don't act like what we call that "other kind of B."
* Between my house sitter, my neighbors and those fabulous EG police, I am resting assured my house will be standing and safe while we're away.
* Read another practical gem from the Book today, reminding me of our brief sojourn here:
Show me, O Lord, my life's end
and the number of my days;
Let me know how fleeting is my life.
You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as
nothing before You.
Each man's life is but a breath.
Man is a mere phantom as he
goes to and fro:
He bustles about, but only in vain;
He heaps up wealth, not knowing who will get it.
But now, Lord, what do I look for?
This is my friend, marvelous Mary Louise. We have been friends for more than 20 years, and I have benefited in a thousand ways from her wisdom and optimism. She spent her gift certificate to take me to lunch today at a local middle eastern restaurant. As usual, I left her company feeling uplifted and blessed. She showed up frequently at Sunnyview, always with a vanilla frapp in her hand for Miss Rejoice. On some of those terribly frightening days, she was there with a cheerful heart and a ready hand. She's dying reading this, because in addition to being a fabulous person, she is a picture of humility. She's the kind of friend I hope all of you have. She's very deep in the Great One's camp. If I were the devil, I wouldn't mess with her...
Relationships are the meat and potatoes of life. It is difficult to make time for our friends. The "Tyranny of the Urgent" is ever biting at our heels. Since the accident I still struggle with that. But now, I make different choices. Better to hang out a few extra minutes with my children and hang the vacuuming. Better to go to lunch with a friend than weed the garden. (Joan, it is a disaster!) Better to have time with the Great One than watch the news. I don't always accomplish these priorities. But I try a whole lot harder to now. None of us knows what tomorrow will bring.
I was looking at the online science program I'm using with David this fall, and the chapter on the chemistry of life caught my attention. Carbon, it seems, is the essential element that makes up living things. Carbon is the foundational chemical for organic compounds. You and I, we are made up of a ton of carbon. Well, I look at relationships, with God and man, as the carbon of the inner life. Not the physical, seen world, but the essence of our true selves. I remember a question Jim Z. told me he asks his clients: "If you could have all the money in the world, but no one to share it with, to share the experiences or things it could buy, would you want it?" And of course every sane person would say no. What joy would there be in a life devoid of other people? I mean, solitude is great (I'm always looking for more of that!), but it does not a complete life make. This is not a ride you do solo. It was never meant to be.
By the way, thanks for sending me some cool verbs! You guys really rock the fun house! Since it's Friday, I thought we might end on a goofy, completely random note. (My kids always use that word "random". And they use it randomly...
"
* Domino had her first trip to the vet today. She growled at a large dog. She also has a heart murmur (nothing serious).
* Joseph got his first complete paycheck today. His response: "Why do they take so much out in taxes?"
* Sam and Matt (my nephews) go home tomorrow. Love those boys. I will be picking up Lego's for a week!"
* One week from tomorrow we leave for the beach. Bill and Cindy's beach house awaits! (Thank you, thank you my dear New Jersey friends!)
* Smitty calls me "B" for bunny rabbit. He has called me that since before we were married. During the week before vacation, as I pack, clean like a maniac and cook ahead, he will be hoping I don't act like what we call that "other kind of B."
* Between my house sitter, my neighbors and those fabulous EG police, I am resting assured my house will be standing and safe while we're away.
* Read another practical gem from the Book today, reminding me of our brief sojourn here:
Show me, O Lord, my life's end
and the number of my days;
Let me know how fleeting is my life.
You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as
nothing before You.
Each man's life is but a breath.
Man is a mere phantom as he
goes to and fro:
He bustles about, but only in vain;
He heaps up wealth, not knowing who will get it.
But now, Lord, what do I look for?
My hope is in you.
~ Psalm 39:4-7
It's a short ride, friends. Let's not miss our fellow passengers.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Day 269 All Hail the Verb!
Dear friends,
I am a big fan of strong verbs. More than great adjectives, powerful verbs make for delightful reading. I recently printed out a list of strong verbs for the writing program I'm using with David in the fall. Listen to how a verb with some moxie can change the emotional charge of a phrase:
She bugged him with her requests. She hen pecked him with her requests. She bullied him with her requests.
The gentleman was tricked out of his money. The gentleman was snookered out of his money. The gentleman was bamboozled out of his money.
In my life, I'm typically a wimpy verb kind of person. I often walk when I ought to stride. But I admire folks who live a strong verb life. People like William Wilberforce. He didn't only fight for the abolition of slavery: he engaged in combat with evil. Same with Ernest Shackleton. He didn't only rescue his friends: he retrieved and delivered them from certain death on the Antarctic's Elephant Island.
I walked in to Planet Fitness today to find my husband on the elliptical after nearly an hour there, dripping in sweat, huffing and puffing, moving those god awful ugly legs up and down with determination. He was one honking strong verb in action. To think, almost 9 months ago his blood pressure was 40/20. He couldn't move, talk or breathe on his own. Now, every day, he carries his titanium plated bones to the gym and makes them do what some predicted they would never do. That's because the Great One also loves strong verbs. He is a strong verb. It doesn't get any stronger than this:
"Before Abraham was, I AM." ~ Jesus
The ultimate verb of being. Giver of life to all, Lover of all life, in whom we "live and move and have our being." Wow. I can't find a great enough verb for Him.
I'm slack-jawed (how's that for a verb!) with amazement that so many of you are still reading here. I'm humbled, grateful and glad. Please remember to put Oct. 23, 7pm on your calendar for the special thank you dessert night at DFG. I want you to come! And if you feel inclined, comment or email me your favorite verb. I'm always on the look out for those little powerhouses of grammar.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
I am a big fan of strong verbs. More than great adjectives, powerful verbs make for delightful reading. I recently printed out a list of strong verbs for the writing program I'm using with David in the fall. Listen to how a verb with some moxie can change the emotional charge of a phrase:
She bugged him with her requests. She hen pecked him with her requests. She bullied him with her requests.
The gentleman was tricked out of his money. The gentleman was snookered out of his money. The gentleman was bamboozled out of his money.
In my life, I'm typically a wimpy verb kind of person. I often walk when I ought to stride. But I admire folks who live a strong verb life. People like William Wilberforce. He didn't only fight for the abolition of slavery: he engaged in combat with evil. Same with Ernest Shackleton. He didn't only rescue his friends: he retrieved and delivered them from certain death on the Antarctic's Elephant Island.
I walked in to Planet Fitness today to find my husband on the elliptical after nearly an hour there, dripping in sweat, huffing and puffing, moving those god awful ugly legs up and down with determination. He was one honking strong verb in action. To think, almost 9 months ago his blood pressure was 40/20. He couldn't move, talk or breathe on his own. Now, every day, he carries his titanium plated bones to the gym and makes them do what some predicted they would never do. That's because the Great One also loves strong verbs. He is a strong verb. It doesn't get any stronger than this:
"Before Abraham was, I AM." ~ Jesus
The ultimate verb of being. Giver of life to all, Lover of all life, in whom we "live and move and have our being." Wow. I can't find a great enough verb for Him.
I'm slack-jawed (how's that for a verb!) with amazement that so many of you are still reading here. I'm humbled, grateful and glad. Please remember to put Oct. 23, 7pm on your calendar for the special thank you dessert night at DFG. I want you to come! And if you feel inclined, comment or email me your favorite verb. I'm always on the look out for those little powerhouses of grammar.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Day 268 Sometimes, I'm Just a Pill
Dear friends,
It just wasn't my day. It started last night with a way-too-late bedtime. I ate dinner at 11:20pm because I didn't get a break at work (staffing issues) and rushed to get my frozen meal out of the microwave there, then promptly dropped the whole thing on the floor. So, I was maniac kind of hungry when I got home, ate, posted my blog entry, watched an episode of Lost, and got to bed....well, let's just say too late. It was my own fault, but nevertheless, feel sorry for me.
Getting up to drive Joe to work this morning I was tired. And he wasn't getting up easily. (I've decided at 17 he will no longer have the services of this human alarm clock/snooze button. If he doesn't get up with his own alarm, from now on mommy will continue to snooze and he will experience the glee of being late for work.)
When I got home from driving my grumpy son (only half as grumpy as me), I ate a wholesome, sugary pastry and a cup of coffee to start my day off on the right nutritional note. Nothing lifts a sour mood like a sugar high/crash.... I fell asleep on the couch for an hour, and was awakened by my youngest and his 2 cousins who are with us for the week. I was determined to get everyone out to Taconic Lake today, to beat the heat and to escape the video games. So at 11am or so I started making sandwiches. Do you know how long it takes to make sandwiches? I would have done better to pack the hamburgers, rolls and hibachi! Good lord, it seemed like an hour to put a few things in a bag and the cooler. Then of course we need beach towels, a blanket, sunscreen etc. We did finally leave the house, and I continued to be grumpy. The gas station pumps were closed to "update the system". I wanted to drive into the blasted cones! I did finally get gas, and pick up my patient friend Maryann, and off we went. I don't think we got there til close to 2, but the water felt nice and the sun did too. All too soon we had to get home so my kids could get to the Jubilant Gen Church. (It really does rock - love you Pastor Greg and all the top drawer leaders who make the thing tick every week!)
But lest any of you get the wrong idea about me, and think I am some spiritual giant because I'm learning some things from God and recording them here, let me disavow you of such notions. When I got home from the lake I proceeded to yell at my kids (for mess and clutter), nag my husband, mutter under my breath, eat too much dinner, worry and fret over some needs, and throw some recycling in the trash. This in the span of one half hour. Good thing for me I am on a short leash with the Great One. Repentance is a sweet and merciful relief from the terror of our selfishness.
I'm also getting a revelation that sometimes the domino effect takes place in our everyday lives. And at some point, we've got to stop those white dots from one more tumble. It started with being over tired, and then eating poorly. (We really are triune beings -mind, body, spirit- all impacted by one another). Then figuring less time than needed for a job. Then, not accounting for the heat. Not wisely being aware that the other people in my world may be having their own problems. Worst of all, not spending that sweet, indispensable time with my heavenly Father. That is the foundation that can't be skipped. That is the lynch pin of every day.
So there you have it. A devastating car accident, a brush with death, a tangle with trauma; and still there are a thousand crooked and immature places in me that can only be fixed by seeing them and taking them to the Savior. He alone can build character in us without it turning into self righteous pride. This is no self help program. This is a child asking her Dad to help her grow up.
Love you lots, friends. Bad days come. And they go. To make something worthwhile out of them, to grow on the pilgrim road, that is the glory.
Your friend (even when grumpy) on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
It just wasn't my day. It started last night with a way-too-late bedtime. I ate dinner at 11:20pm because I didn't get a break at work (staffing issues) and rushed to get my frozen meal out of the microwave there, then promptly dropped the whole thing on the floor. So, I was maniac kind of hungry when I got home, ate, posted my blog entry, watched an episode of Lost, and got to bed....well, let's just say too late. It was my own fault, but nevertheless, feel sorry for me.
Getting up to drive Joe to work this morning I was tired. And he wasn't getting up easily. (I've decided at 17 he will no longer have the services of this human alarm clock/snooze button. If he doesn't get up with his own alarm, from now on mommy will continue to snooze and he will experience the glee of being late for work.)
When I got home from driving my grumpy son (only half as grumpy as me), I ate a wholesome, sugary pastry and a cup of coffee to start my day off on the right nutritional note. Nothing lifts a sour mood like a sugar high/crash.... I fell asleep on the couch for an hour, and was awakened by my youngest and his 2 cousins who are with us for the week. I was determined to get everyone out to Taconic Lake today, to beat the heat and to escape the video games. So at 11am or so I started making sandwiches. Do you know how long it takes to make sandwiches? I would have done better to pack the hamburgers, rolls and hibachi! Good lord, it seemed like an hour to put a few things in a bag and the cooler. Then of course we need beach towels, a blanket, sunscreen etc. We did finally leave the house, and I continued to be grumpy. The gas station pumps were closed to "update the system". I wanted to drive into the blasted cones! I did finally get gas, and pick up my patient friend Maryann, and off we went. I don't think we got there til close to 2, but the water felt nice and the sun did too. All too soon we had to get home so my kids could get to the Jubilant Gen Church. (It really does rock - love you Pastor Greg and all the top drawer leaders who make the thing tick every week!)
But lest any of you get the wrong idea about me, and think I am some spiritual giant because I'm learning some things from God and recording them here, let me disavow you of such notions. When I got home from the lake I proceeded to yell at my kids (for mess and clutter), nag my husband, mutter under my breath, eat too much dinner, worry and fret over some needs, and throw some recycling in the trash. This in the span of one half hour. Good thing for me I am on a short leash with the Great One. Repentance is a sweet and merciful relief from the terror of our selfishness.
I'm also getting a revelation that sometimes the domino effect takes place in our everyday lives. And at some point, we've got to stop those white dots from one more tumble. It started with being over tired, and then eating poorly. (We really are triune beings -mind, body, spirit- all impacted by one another). Then figuring less time than needed for a job. Then, not accounting for the heat. Not wisely being aware that the other people in my world may be having their own problems. Worst of all, not spending that sweet, indispensable time with my heavenly Father. That is the foundation that can't be skipped. That is the lynch pin of every day.
So there you have it. A devastating car accident, a brush with death, a tangle with trauma; and still there are a thousand crooked and immature places in me that can only be fixed by seeing them and taking them to the Savior. He alone can build character in us without it turning into self righteous pride. This is no self help program. This is a child asking her Dad to help her grow up.
Love you lots, friends. Bad days come. And they go. To make something worthwhile out of them, to grow on the pilgrim road, that is the glory.
Your friend (even when grumpy) on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Day 267 Accept or Fight...
Dear Friends,
The Alcoholics Anonymous serenity prayer has taken on weight with me. "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
The first part of this well known, oft quoted prayer is best summarized with one word: surrender. Some of the vexations and anxieties of my life that I have "done war" with for many years, and others that have more recently come into my company, fall into this category.
Alot of the troubles we contend with are really those "crosses" Jesus spoke of in MT16:24. Over the past 9 months I have found a greater joy in walking the unpredictable pilgrim road with God. But it has been the sorrows, the aggravations, the frustrations of those "things I cannot change" that have driven me to the place where, in my complacency, I should have been all along. Here is the rub: Whether to fight mightily on the battlefield of prayer and action to toss away the heavy boulders of painful circumstances -or to pick up the stone and carry it; to grow stronger in the heavy lifting, and to depend more vigorously on the strength of the One and Only to bear the load as we go. This is the cosmic question for which there is no formula. It must be figured out in the process of relationship with God.
It is glory at the end of the matter to persevere and endure those burdens sovereignly given to keep us only inches from the Great One. In the final analysis, if we graciously carry those crosses we are meant to carry, there will be great profit. This is where the attitude of surrender slam dunks.
The second part of the serenity prayer may be even more difficult for me to activate. It is said that courage is not the absence of fear, but acting rightly in spite of it. Often there are burdens and anxieties I drag around with me because I haven't the courage to change. On of my most spectacular defeats has been in the area of focus. I am weighed down by nervousness, not finishing a first duty, prioritizing wrongly and wasting valuable time in the paralysis of fear. These are conditions where self made crosses, never meant to be taken up, have brought ruin to many a man. What things vex us will look different for everybody. (If you're like me, you may be running more than one special at a time). This is where we must buck up and stand and fight with all the power God provides. This is where get on our feet and wrestle for our freedom. In the book of Hebrews 12:12&13 it says:
"Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet, so that the lame will not be disabled, but rather, healed."
Courage to change the things we can change will not only set us free, but will lift up some other lame folk in this upside down world.
The final act in the serenity prayer is essential. Only God can show a man which are his right and acceptable crosses, and which are needless burdens and sins that must be ruthlessly cut down. Again I am brought back to the place where I knew I would wind up - abiding closely with the Only One who can provide the wisdom to sort these things out.
Anyway, this is the truth of my life on the pilgrim road today. Sorry for the wordiness. You know how it goes. Tomorrow I might be kvetching about my exploits at Walmart... One never knows....
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
The Alcoholics Anonymous serenity prayer has taken on weight with me. "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
The first part of this well known, oft quoted prayer is best summarized with one word: surrender. Some of the vexations and anxieties of my life that I have "done war" with for many years, and others that have more recently come into my company, fall into this category.
Alot of the troubles we contend with are really those "crosses" Jesus spoke of in MT16:24. Over the past 9 months I have found a greater joy in walking the unpredictable pilgrim road with God. But it has been the sorrows, the aggravations, the frustrations of those "things I cannot change" that have driven me to the place where, in my complacency, I should have been all along. Here is the rub: Whether to fight mightily on the battlefield of prayer and action to toss away the heavy boulders of painful circumstances -or to pick up the stone and carry it; to grow stronger in the heavy lifting, and to depend more vigorously on the strength of the One and Only to bear the load as we go. This is the cosmic question for which there is no formula. It must be figured out in the process of relationship with God.
It is glory at the end of the matter to persevere and endure those burdens sovereignly given to keep us only inches from the Great One. In the final analysis, if we graciously carry those crosses we are meant to carry, there will be great profit. This is where the attitude of surrender slam dunks.
The second part of the serenity prayer may be even more difficult for me to activate. It is said that courage is not the absence of fear, but acting rightly in spite of it. Often there are burdens and anxieties I drag around with me because I haven't the courage to change. On of my most spectacular defeats has been in the area of focus. I am weighed down by nervousness, not finishing a first duty, prioritizing wrongly and wasting valuable time in the paralysis of fear. These are conditions where self made crosses, never meant to be taken up, have brought ruin to many a man. What things vex us will look different for everybody. (If you're like me, you may be running more than one special at a time). This is where we must buck up and stand and fight with all the power God provides. This is where get on our feet and wrestle for our freedom. In the book of Hebrews 12:12&13 it says:
"Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet, so that the lame will not be disabled, but rather, healed."
Courage to change the things we can change will not only set us free, but will lift up some other lame folk in this upside down world.
The final act in the serenity prayer is essential. Only God can show a man which are his right and acceptable crosses, and which are needless burdens and sins that must be ruthlessly cut down. Again I am brought back to the place where I knew I would wind up - abiding closely with the Only One who can provide the wisdom to sort these things out.
Anyway, this is the truth of my life on the pilgrim road today. Sorry for the wordiness. You know how it goes. Tomorrow I might be kvetching about my exploits at Walmart... One never knows....
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Monday, August 2, 2010
Day 266 Prayers, Memories and a Future Hope
Dear friends,
A member of our blog community who I have never met sent some scrumptious garden vegetables to my house tonite, resulting in a sauteed squash and onions that even Rachel Ray would have lauded. Green Grocer Cindy, who found us through a maze of relationships and a chance meeting with Smitty, has been praying for Steve and Hannah since the beginning. Is that wild or what? In my prayers this morning, I asked the Great One to give me insight into who really needed prayer today, and I went with where I thought He was leading me. Because you never know what someone may be dealing with on the inside, where nobody but God sees. So if you get a little nudge to pray for someone, do it! I confess I often don't know how to pray, but I ask God to figure that part out and simply let me cooperate with Him. No fancy, eloquent words. Heck, sometimes I just blubber! Being together with Jesus is the point of it all. The results are up to Him.
So last night I walked into the SICU for my job, and a wind of memories rushed over me like a storm. Straight ahead through the doors was the room Steve occupied for 8 days, almost all of that time unconscious, part of that time in peril. And I couldn't help but recall the gazillion people praying in their own ways - some loudly and extemporaneously, some quietly, some without words- that Stephen would live to see his kids grow up. I remember too the kind of surreal cloud I was on, one moment drowning in agony, the next blessedly numb. I think of the dance I would never recommend, the PICU-SICU shuffle, and the many folks who came to sit with Miss Rejoice so I could see Stephen or get a cup of coffee. All these things I hold very close to my heart. All will be with me, I think, as long as I live. As we move further and further away from this life changing event, I know I will forget some things, and the rawness of others will fade. But the people who loved us is a memory carved in stone. Nothing could ever wear it away. And heaven will reveal the depth of loveliness all that generosity of spirit yielded.
November 8, 2009 will always leave a before and after mark on our lives. Looking back on how I felt then (I'm so glad for this blog as a record of that), I can see some change in perspective. It's like when you're up close to a painting, and it doesn't really make sense. Then you back up and see the whole, beautiful composition - the lines, colors, and shades the artist had in mind to make the thing whole. I'm backing up on the crash and looking at it differently. But forever those early days will live with me. Thank you again for being there. And for being here.
I still don't know why our road lead us this way. But for the grace I've experienced and the mercy I've embraced, I am grateful. And will be til the day I die.
Gotta go. Hannah wants to practice driving in a parking lot. How will I ever let that girl get behind the wheel alone some day? Deep breaths. One day at a time.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
A member of our blog community who I have never met sent some scrumptious garden vegetables to my house tonite, resulting in a sauteed squash and onions that even Rachel Ray would have lauded. Green Grocer Cindy, who found us through a maze of relationships and a chance meeting with Smitty, has been praying for Steve and Hannah since the beginning. Is that wild or what? In my prayers this morning, I asked the Great One to give me insight into who really needed prayer today, and I went with where I thought He was leading me. Because you never know what someone may be dealing with on the inside, where nobody but God sees. So if you get a little nudge to pray for someone, do it! I confess I often don't know how to pray, but I ask God to figure that part out and simply let me cooperate with Him. No fancy, eloquent words. Heck, sometimes I just blubber! Being together with Jesus is the point of it all. The results are up to Him.
So last night I walked into the SICU for my job, and a wind of memories rushed over me like a storm. Straight ahead through the doors was the room Steve occupied for 8 days, almost all of that time unconscious, part of that time in peril. And I couldn't help but recall the gazillion people praying in their own ways - some loudly and extemporaneously, some quietly, some without words- that Stephen would live to see his kids grow up. I remember too the kind of surreal cloud I was on, one moment drowning in agony, the next blessedly numb. I think of the dance I would never recommend, the PICU-SICU shuffle, and the many folks who came to sit with Miss Rejoice so I could see Stephen or get a cup of coffee. All these things I hold very close to my heart. All will be with me, I think, as long as I live. As we move further and further away from this life changing event, I know I will forget some things, and the rawness of others will fade. But the people who loved us is a memory carved in stone. Nothing could ever wear it away. And heaven will reveal the depth of loveliness all that generosity of spirit yielded.
November 8, 2009 will always leave a before and after mark on our lives. Looking back on how I felt then (I'm so glad for this blog as a record of that), I can see some change in perspective. It's like when you're up close to a painting, and it doesn't really make sense. Then you back up and see the whole, beautiful composition - the lines, colors, and shades the artist had in mind to make the thing whole. I'm backing up on the crash and looking at it differently. But forever those early days will live with me. Thank you again for being there. And for being here.
I still don't know why our road lead us this way. But for the grace I've experienced and the mercy I've embraced, I am grateful. And will be til the day I die.
Gotta go. Hannah wants to practice driving in a parking lot. How will I ever let that girl get behind the wheel alone some day? Deep breaths. One day at a time.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
Day 265 - 100 Days to Go
Dear friends,
My Grammie Champagne (later Maziarz) was one of a kind. Raised during the depression, by parents who didn’t express much in the way of affection, she was a pretty tough character on the outside. She married 4 times, all to alcoholics who abused her. (Grandpa Champagne later quit drinking and was a dear, kind soul). Her last husband, Mickey, was the nicest guy when he wasn’t drunk. My grandmother was very good to me, and I loved her greatly. She lived in a trailer park and I lived with her for a short time. She had the best vegetable garden ever in the tiniest space you could imagine. Mickey made Polish goulash from the peppers, tomatoes and garlic in that pipsqueak plot. ( I’ve never been able to duplicate that delicious stew. I think he had some kind of Polish magic he threw in there to make it taste the way it did.) My grandmother taught herself how to knit, crochet, tat, embroider, sew and play piano. She was no nonsense, and when I asked her how I looked she would always reply “you’ll pass with a push”. She was forever trying to get me to wear panty hose (dreadful things, I hate them to this day), and she was frustrated that I was a tomboy. She yelled at me for leaving lights on, and said someday I would understand when I had to pay my own electric bill. (Now I yell at my kids for leaving lights on.)
Grammie told me about how her family lived on baking soda biscuits for a while when things were really bad. She believed John Kennedy was alive under the rotunda, and consulted the National Inquirer for her news stories. She loved candle pin bowling on TV on Saturday afternoons, and won many championships in her younger years as a ballroom dancer. But by the end of her life, my grandmother was beaten down, tired of living and worn out. She loved me heartily, and words can’t express how much I loved her. She had an impossibly painful, difficult life. But what really cut the legs out from under her was bitterness. I don’t say this in any judgmental way, because without the saving grace of Jesus Christ, I know my propensity to be far worse than she ever was, with less reason. Still, I must take a lesson from my grandmother’s book – both positive and negative. When her feelings were hurt, Grammie would be offended. I watched as 2 of her good friendships died because she could not, would not, forgive. She struggled with prejudice too, as did many folks from that era, and often mistrusted people she didn’t know. Before she died I saw a softer part of her emerge, as will sometimes happen in children who have been crying hysterically and then hit the point of exhaustion, leaving them more pliable and consolable. I prayed often that the Great One would visit my grandmother’s hurting heart and that she would be willing to let go of her offense. This I do know: God went to the ends of the earth to bring her to Himself. He loves the broken hearted, and he saw the wreck of a life she had to contend with.
Once again, C.S. Lewis puts it perfectly:
“But if you are a poor creature – poisoned by a wretched upbringing in some house full of vulgar jealousies and senseless quarrels – saddled, by no choice of your own, with some loathsome sexual perversion – nagged day in and day out by an inferiority complex that makes you snap at your best friends – do not despair. He knows all about it. You are one of the poor whom He blessed. He knows what a wretched machine you are trying to drive. Keep on. Do what you can. One day (perhaps in another world, but perhaps far sooner than that) He will fling it on the scrap heap and give you a new one. And then you will astonish us all – not least yourself; for you have learned your driving in the hard school. (Some of the last will be first and some of the first will be last).”
I love that quote, because it reminds me to be very careful how I treat a hard soul. It makes me recall that though my “vehicle” (that compilation of my upbringing, bents, relationships and health) may not be the finest, there are those saddled with far, far more “wretched machines” than I. Only God knows the real story of anyone’s life. And only He can judge rightly.
Quickly on another subject, I had to drop off a death certificate in the SICU at Albany Med tonite. It was my first time in that locked unit since Smitty was there almost 9 months ago. Positively surreal. More on that tomorrow…
Go love someone who's driving through life in a crummy machine. (It may even be you…) And if you still have her, go love your Grammie. I’d give my right arm to share some Polish stew with mine just one more time.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
My Grammie Champagne (later Maziarz) was one of a kind. Raised during the depression, by parents who didn’t express much in the way of affection, she was a pretty tough character on the outside. She married 4 times, all to alcoholics who abused her. (Grandpa Champagne later quit drinking and was a dear, kind soul). Her last husband, Mickey, was the nicest guy when he wasn’t drunk. My grandmother was very good to me, and I loved her greatly. She lived in a trailer park and I lived with her for a short time. She had the best vegetable garden ever in the tiniest space you could imagine. Mickey made Polish goulash from the peppers, tomatoes and garlic in that pipsqueak plot. ( I’ve never been able to duplicate that delicious stew. I think he had some kind of Polish magic he threw in there to make it taste the way it did.) My grandmother taught herself how to knit, crochet, tat, embroider, sew and play piano. She was no nonsense, and when I asked her how I looked she would always reply “you’ll pass with a push”. She was forever trying to get me to wear panty hose (dreadful things, I hate them to this day), and she was frustrated that I was a tomboy. She yelled at me for leaving lights on, and said someday I would understand when I had to pay my own electric bill. (Now I yell at my kids for leaving lights on.)
Grammie told me about how her family lived on baking soda biscuits for a while when things were really bad. She believed John Kennedy was alive under the rotunda, and consulted the National Inquirer for her news stories. She loved candle pin bowling on TV on Saturday afternoons, and won many championships in her younger years as a ballroom dancer. But by the end of her life, my grandmother was beaten down, tired of living and worn out. She loved me heartily, and words can’t express how much I loved her. She had an impossibly painful, difficult life. But what really cut the legs out from under her was bitterness. I don’t say this in any judgmental way, because without the saving grace of Jesus Christ, I know my propensity to be far worse than she ever was, with less reason. Still, I must take a lesson from my grandmother’s book – both positive and negative. When her feelings were hurt, Grammie would be offended. I watched as 2 of her good friendships died because she could not, would not, forgive. She struggled with prejudice too, as did many folks from that era, and often mistrusted people she didn’t know. Before she died I saw a softer part of her emerge, as will sometimes happen in children who have been crying hysterically and then hit the point of exhaustion, leaving them more pliable and consolable. I prayed often that the Great One would visit my grandmother’s hurting heart and that she would be willing to let go of her offense. This I do know: God went to the ends of the earth to bring her to Himself. He loves the broken hearted, and he saw the wreck of a life she had to contend with.
Once again, C.S. Lewis puts it perfectly:
“But if you are a poor creature – poisoned by a wretched upbringing in some house full of vulgar jealousies and senseless quarrels – saddled, by no choice of your own, with some loathsome sexual perversion – nagged day in and day out by an inferiority complex that makes you snap at your best friends – do not despair. He knows all about it. You are one of the poor whom He blessed. He knows what a wretched machine you are trying to drive. Keep on. Do what you can. One day (perhaps in another world, but perhaps far sooner than that) He will fling it on the scrap heap and give you a new one. And then you will astonish us all – not least yourself; for you have learned your driving in the hard school. (Some of the last will be first and some of the first will be last).”
I love that quote, because it reminds me to be very careful how I treat a hard soul. It makes me recall that though my “vehicle” (that compilation of my upbringing, bents, relationships and health) may not be the finest, there are those saddled with far, far more “wretched machines” than I. Only God knows the real story of anyone’s life. And only He can judge rightly.
Quickly on another subject, I had to drop off a death certificate in the SICU at Albany Med tonite. It was my first time in that locked unit since Smitty was there almost 9 months ago. Positively surreal. More on that tomorrow…
Go love someone who's driving through life in a crummy machine. (It may even be you…) And if you still have her, go love your Grammie. I’d give my right arm to share some Polish stew with mine just one more time.
Your friend on the pilgrim road,
Loriann
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