“I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses.” Taylor Caldwell
I can’t wait for a new year. I’m done with 2007. I’m just tired of it. I want the New Year to ring in with all of the blessings that I can reach out and obtain. And yes, I’ll be reaching. This year brought both losses and gains in my life, just like in yours.
Losses
2007 got off to a rotten start when my eldest sister took ill and died within a week, before the Ides of March were actually here. Which, BTW is March 15 and she would have celebrated her 62nd birthday on that day. Shocking….it was just a sinus infection, but it developed into meningitis and we lost her. That one week was hell and the aftermath was hades. Truly, it was one of the most emotional experiences of my life. Sitting with her until she took her final breath was hard. Watching her two daughters struggle through it was harder. But, telling my parents, who are both in their 80’s, was the worst experience ever. I still tear up at the thought. I sang at the funeral. It was the closes I could get to saying my piece about my oldest sister. She was the one I looked up to and wanted to please as a child. The one I was growing closer too, year by year. Thank you Lord, for receiving her into your care. Knowing this allows me to bear it. I am not alone. The Lord is ever present. That is the message of Christmas.
But, grieving is an experience that makes you feel alone. No one can really explain it, except you know you’re doing it. It simply feels like loss. This will be my first Christmas without her. And, for her daughters…No mom for Christmas? The reason to go home is gone. My heart aches for them. There’s really nothing I can do but be there as an Aunt. My favorite Uncle also passed this year. I hurt for my Aunt Barbara and cousins. Let me remind myself that they are not alone. That is the message of Christmas.
I lost a dear friend this year. No, not to death but to evil. She went completely wacko. This is a friend of over 30 years. I really haven’t figured it all out, but I’ll blame it on the devil, menopause, chemical imbalance and selfishness. I never thought I’d see the day someone who walked a Christian life would be willing to give up her husband, children and grandchildren for the right to be right. Especially when it’s questionable as to how right she really is. She’s wrong too. This makes me very sad. I miss her, the old her. I wonder if she feels alone. I wonder if she’ll hear the message of Christmas.
I lost my only son-in-law of this year. Dan has been around for at least 15 years, counting the dating time. Divorce has its own pain. I can go along way as long as my children are doing well. But, when one of them is hurting, the mother bear with cubs comes out. Yet, I will miss him. He was a child of my heart by choice. I haven’t been too good at choosing to let him go. But, it’s really not my choice at all. It just is - what it is. I will just leave it alone.
I lost some family stability this year. A family conflict this summer surrounding my parents and siblings rocked my boat. I’m still reeling from some verbal blows. How long does it take to get over something like this? 70X7-yes that’s how often I think about forgiveness. I am thankful that I too, am forgiven. I must leave it alone and simply extend grace .
Three Beebe vehicles helped three deer commit suicide this year. I lost my favorite car to one such deer. I miss it. Yes, we replaced it, but it just isn’t my car. In fact it’s not a car at all; we replaced it with a small truck. Now, I like the truck, but again, it’s not my car. Thank heavens I was alone when I hit mine.
What is Christmas? It is tenderness for the past, courage for the present, hope for the future. It is a fervent wish that every cup may overflow with blessings rich and eternal, and that every path may lead to peace. Agnes M. Pharo
Gains- besides a few pounds
I landed myself a new job. Someone actually saw enough value in me to pay me for my work. I usually work for free, all the time. I wasn’t looking for a job when this one found me. I’m coordinating a large grant for the Mt Pleasant Community Foundation. I’m learning a lot of new things, especially about people with disabilities. They have a language all their own. I’m meeting new people, I’m planning events, coordinating meetings and advisory boards. I’m growing and I’m having fun doing it. God has chosen this time for me. I am thankful.
I became secretary to the M.P. Rotary Club. (More free work.) But again, it’s enjoyable to me. I feel like I’m a part of a great charity that makes a difference world wide. I love the Rotarians. It was a stretch and learning experience to develop and build an entire website for the club. I update it regularly. I’m also proud of myself for chairing and pulling off a huge fund-raiser, the live Rotary Radio Auction. We took in around 17K, but I had to pay 3K or so for advertising etc, so profits were around 14K. Joelle and I went out and solicited tons of donations. Although it was fun, the most rewarding part of it was watching the Rotarians work together for a cause and pull the thing off. Being in Rotary makes me part of a group of intelligent, caring, ambitious, and diverse people. Check it out. www.mprotary.com
I started a blog. Sisters of satin. Something I’ve thought about for a long time.
http://sistersofsatin.blogspot.com/
I spent a lot of time with my granddaughter Leah. And, I became a grandma for the 2nd time when Susanna entered the world.
The Beebe’s went up by 3 against deer population, when all the hunters took at least one during hunting season. Both freezers are full. We have more venison than we’ll ever eat, so we can give away a bunch too.
· Bill is busy as usual, doctoring. He’s studying to take his national boards again in March. We’ll be headed to Denver then.
· Ainsley is doing well. She’s still teaching music at Novi Public Schools, but is looking forward to using her master’s degree in school administration in the near future.
· Bill and Hilary are doing great, as their family increased by one beautiful baby girl. Check out Hilary’s blog at http://beebefamilycircus.blogspot.com/
· Joelle is doing great. She lost 40+ pounds and looks absolutely stunning. She too hosted a fundraising auction and beat me by at least 10K. I think they raised 25K for their cause. She also blogs and is pretty entertaining. http://ramblingref.blogspot.com
· Jonathan is excelling at Ford. He had the opportunity to present a marketing idea to the president of Ford Motor Company, and, as a result, was offered a promotion in a new position in the digital marketing department. He now manages Ford's emerging media marketing, and his work can be seen on TV, in video games, Xbox consoles, The Sims 2, Web banners, mobile phones, touchscreen juke boxes, bus stops in 8 major cities, malls and some hotel chains.
· Leah and Susanna are the cutest and smartest grand babies in the world wide world. They are the love of my life and the joy of my heart. They make me feel young again.
Well, I suppose I’d better get some work done around here. I wanted to touch base, give the update and express my thankfulness and love to all of my friends and family. I also want to express my desire that you have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. It can only get better for all of us, right?
Christmas at our house is LOVE!
Love, Kathy
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
The Christmas Letter
My annual christmas letter is going out tomorrow. So, if you're on my card list, you'll get a version of the following blog. For those not on the list, here goes the long boring version:
Oh oh....I left it at my office, so I'll have to post it tomorrow. That's the way life has been lately. Just downright stressful. Tomorrow will be a better. I'm exhausted tonight. sos
Oh oh....I left it at my office, so I'll have to post it tomorrow. That's the way life has been lately. Just downright stressful. Tomorrow will be a better. I'm exhausted tonight. sos
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Christmas at our house is love…..
I haven’t had a moment of time to write and update the blog. But, today I will take a minute. My favorite time of year, the Christmas Season is upon us.
Today I hosted a ladies luncheon at a local restaurant. My mind always runs in script form, like I’m watching a movie, so when I’m planning things, it’s always grandiose and all together lovely. But in reality, my dreams are very expensive, plus it takes a lot more work than it looks like in my mind. My parties never quite come across as beautiful, as peaceful, or as glorious as I imagine. Not that they’re bad. In fact, they are quite nice. …. But they never amount to what I had pictured. Yes…I do plan. I spend the day after Christmas shopping for next year’s ladies luncheon. And, I usually come up with a theme, a fun activity, and gifts for all.
But, I didn’t wear my Scarlet O’Hara party dress, I didn’t have an orchestra to back up my singing, and it was attended by around 20, not 200. (20 of the finest, I might add.) My Russian Tea Cakes were a pain to make, very messy, and one should never try a new recipe the night before they’re to be presented. I made Orange Cranberry Scones. Everyone knows they go with tea. Actually they turned out okay; it was the icing that screwed everything up. I had a vision of the nice big triangles that you get at Barnes and Nobel, but mine ended up being round circles with sticky tops. The room decorations were nice, but not Christmas gorgeous, like my buddy Martha Stewart would have.
None the less, it was nice, it was fun, but last night at midnight, whilst trying to get the icing to peak, I decided that this would definitely be my last year doing it. However today, after it’s all said and done, I’m already thinking about how I can top it next time.
My ladies appeased me by singing the lines they were assigned from the 12 Days of Christmas Song. Sorry girls….it was in the wrong key….but it was all in good fun. My story was a hit, (see pic of book above) and everyone received a tea-pot and tea cup with a saucer. All the ladies brought tea bags and exchanged them with each other.
I sang two of my favorite Christmas songs, “There’s a new kid in town,” and “Christmas at our house.” I did okay…not spectacular, but okay. I don’t sing much anymore. But I wanted to incorporate Jesus, the reason for the season, into the mix. I got my message across and I didn’t have to preach a word. I just loved them, blessed them, and had fun with them. No one was offended. Everyone was blessed. It was a warm fuzzy time.
So, all in all, the season is off to a grand start. It will be my first ever without my sister Joyce. And, it will be my first with my newest grand-daughter Susanna.
Things are not quite calm yet, but it's looking brighter.
sos
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Grammy is having a great and happy Thanksgiving.Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Another cutest baby in the whole wide world...
My little Leah is about to become a big sister. Tonight mommy is at the hospital and baby Susanna Joelle should arrive sometime soon. Probably tomorrow, since it's already 11:20 pm. I'm sitting here at my son's house babysitting Leah. She's asleep now. But, I'm staying up. I'm going to wait for my Susie Q to be born. Or, I'm going to wait for the phone to ring....Whatever...I'm just waiting.
I had the adventure of trucking out to the hunting camp to locate my son. You see Susanna isn't due until Dec 13th officially. But, she's like Leah, wanting to come 3 weeks early. I finally found daddy and he headed home (1-1/2 hour drive) in full hunting gear. I went home from my office, picked up all of his stuff, packed my bag and headed south. So, I hurried up to wait.
None the less, I've been playing with Leah all evening. Now I'm tired. I'll keep you posted.
Later skaters. sos
I had the adventure of trucking out to the hunting camp to locate my son. You see Susanna isn't due until Dec 13th officially. But, she's like Leah, wanting to come 3 weeks early. I finally found daddy and he headed home (1-1/2 hour drive) in full hunting gear. I went home from my office, picked up all of his stuff, packed my bag and headed south. So, I hurried up to wait.
None the less, I've been playing with Leah all evening. Now I'm tired. I'll keep you posted.
Later skaters. sos
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Cutest baby in the whole wide world…
Cutest baby in the whole wide world…
Grammy is babysitting this week so daddy can deer hunt. Momma is working. But do I mind? No…not at all. I’d take this baby in a heartbeat. I get to sing songs, play games, watch Elmo and play dolls again. She is the love of my life and the joy of my heart. At the end of the day, I get to rock her to sleep and sing my favorite lullabies. She is grandma’s girl, 100%, today and forever. What an angel!
Friday, November 16, 2007
We're up by one!
We’re up by one!
The score is Beebe’s 4, Deer 3. Yes folks, we have taken vengeance on the deer that insist on striking us when we least expect it, causing thousands of dollars in damage when they run into our cars. All three of our vehicles hit deer and the cost for repairs is outrageous. Two of them are still in the shop. No one can work on them this week. It’s deer season.
Opening day gave us the chance to even the score and pull ahead. All the hunters here bagged one. Three bucks and one doe died yesterday in a much less painful way than committing suicide on the highway.
Deer hunting is really about the stories. Every season has it’s own tales of adventure and victory. Everyone stays in the field until everyone has a deer to hang on the pole, suspended between trees. It looks like a deer chime in the wind. (I thought about posting a picture, but they look yucky hanging there.)
Stories will be posted as they are written this year. Stay tune…
The score is Beebe’s 4, Deer 3. Yes folks, we have taken vengeance on the deer that insist on striking us when we least expect it, causing thousands of dollars in damage when they run into our cars. All three of our vehicles hit deer and the cost for repairs is outrageous. Two of them are still in the shop. No one can work on them this week. It’s deer season.
Opening day gave us the chance to even the score and pull ahead. All the hunters here bagged one. Three bucks and one doe died yesterday in a much less painful way than committing suicide on the highway.
Deer hunting is really about the stories. Every season has it’s own tales of adventure and victory. Everyone stays in the field until everyone has a deer to hang on the pole, suspended between trees. It looks like a deer chime in the wind. (I thought about posting a picture, but they look yucky hanging there.)
Stories will be posted as they are written this year. Stay tune…
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
SOS is singing....
…I’m Proud To Be An American, where at least I know I’m free….
The good news is, the cat is away. Yes, it’s deer season and the mice will play. I love this time of year. There wasn’t anyone around at the office to make any kind of statement about the meeting I missed last Friday. I skated this time.
Interestingly, I sat at the Rotary meeting today with a young man from Afghanistan, named Mohibullah Israr. Israr is spending a year at CMU studying English as a Second Language, thanks to a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar award.
Israr began by telling a little of his life, which illustrates the large differences between his country and ours. He’s 32 years old, he thinks. Of course, there are no official records. When he needed his birth date for a passport he asked his father to estimate the year and then he picked a day he liked. He chose September 15th. He has been married for 11 years now following his arranged marriage. He has six children – four boys and two girls. He feels that will be enough, even though there is family pressure to have ten to twelve children. His extended family – parents, brothers and wives, and children – all live in one house. There are 45 of them!
He was born in Khowst. With the Russian invasion the family left one night – leaving everything, and moved to for Pakistan. His father was in the jihad, fighting against the Russians. At seven years of age Israr saw a few school children, and self-enrolled in the school. One reason he wanted to attend was the students received shoes. He continued his studies until in 1993 he enrolled in Peshawar University. Later he moved to Kabul University in 1997 when the Taliban took over Afghanistan. The university courses were mainly on religion, but they also had foreign languages. Israr studied English.
After graduation, he returned to Pakistan and taught English. In 2003 he took a position in Jalalabad and worked for a NGO as an interpreter. This led to a United Nations job working on disarmament. He collected weapons (including missiles). His strategy was to offer training in some trade. Without another way to make a living, the only choice for men was to be a fighter. This job landed him on a “to be killed” list, so he resigned and worked for AID.
He was teaching part time at the University when he received the Rotary scholarship. Getting to America took three years of paperwork.
The good news is, the cat is away. Yes, it’s deer season and the mice will play. I love this time of year. There wasn’t anyone around at the office to make any kind of statement about the meeting I missed last Friday. I skated this time.
Interestingly, I sat at the Rotary meeting today with a young man from Afghanistan, named Mohibullah Israr. Israr is spending a year at CMU studying English as a Second Language, thanks to a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar award.
Israr began by telling a little of his life, which illustrates the large differences between his country and ours. He’s 32 years old, he thinks. Of course, there are no official records. When he needed his birth date for a passport he asked his father to estimate the year and then he picked a day he liked. He chose September 15th. He has been married for 11 years now following his arranged marriage. He has six children – four boys and two girls. He feels that will be enough, even though there is family pressure to have ten to twelve children. His extended family – parents, brothers and wives, and children – all live in one house. There are 45 of them!He was born in Khowst. With the Russian invasion the family left one night – leaving everything, and moved to for Pakistan. His father was in the jihad, fighting against the Russians. At seven years of age Israr saw a few school children, and self-enrolled in the school. One reason he wanted to attend was the students received shoes. He continued his studies until in 1993 he enrolled in Peshawar University. Later he moved to Kabul University in 1997 when the Taliban took over Afghanistan. The university courses were mainly on religion, but they also had foreign languages. Israr studied English.
After graduation, he returned to Pakistan and taught English. In 2003 he took a position in Jalalabad and worked for a NGO as an interpreter. This led to a United Nations job working on disarmament. He collected weapons (including missiles). His strategy was to offer training in some trade. Without another way to make a living, the only choice for men was to be a fighter. This job landed him on a “to be killed” list, so he resigned and worked for AID.
He was teaching part time at the University when he received the Rotary scholarship. Getting to America took three years of paperwork.
Israr says that there is good things happening in Afganistan. We usually hear about the war over there, but it's much better now than it was under Taliban rule. Women are widely employed now (couldn’t work under the Taliban). Schools are open. Israr believes that education is the key to improving conditions.
Under the Taliban, women had to wear burkas, even while giving birth. Israr is so happy that the Americans came and freed them, even though his own life is in danger when home. He is really impressed with washers and dryers here in America. Women in Afghanistan still beat their clothing on rocks to clean them. It takes days for them to dry.
Israr has far too many stories for me to tell right now. But let me tell you sisters, we have an awful lot to be thankful for. Forget the satin right now. Let’s stop and be thankful that we don’t have to wear burkas, we get to pick our own husbands, and we have washers and dryers.
Under the Taliban, women had to wear burkas, even while giving birth. Israr is so happy that the Americans came and freed them, even though his own life is in danger when home. He is really impressed with washers and dryers here in America. Women in Afghanistan still beat their clothing on rocks to clean them. It takes days for them to dry.
Israr has far too many stories for me to tell right now. But let me tell you sisters, we have an awful lot to be thankful for. Forget the satin right now. Let’s stop and be thankful that we don’t have to wear burkas, we get to pick our own husbands, and we have washers and dryers.
Note: If I ever did have to wear a burka, I'd want mine in soft pink satin.....
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Frankly my dear....
"I can only deal with one day at a time.” “Today is only a small manageable segment of time in which our difficulties need not overwhelm us. This lifts from out hearts and minds the heavy weight of both past and future.” From: One day at a time.
With that in mind, I’m headed for the shower. I’m meeting a new friend this morning for antique shopping and a craft show.
Today I decided, will be a Sister of Scarlett day.
“After all... tomorrow is another day.”
I feel like Scarlett today…
Which scene?
Actually, the last one...
Scarlett: I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.
I was wide-awake at 4:00 a.m. I was startled within as I remembered something…Oh no! I forgot I was supposed to attend an important meeting…. yesterday. And then, somebody let me have it in the wee hours of a Saturday morning. Geesh! I had looked forward to sleeping in.
“I’m so dumb. Why, why didn’t I even glance at my calendar on my day off from work?
“Because, stupid, your work calendar is at the office….”
“Yes, but you knew about this meeting. Some one was driving over a hundred miles to meet with you about a very important aspect of your job.”
Thank God, I’m sure Chris showed up, I thought. He was supposed to meet me there, as well as everyone on the advisory board. I wonder if MaryEllen showed…. God, I hope so.”
“I wonder what they’re going to think of me now. I’m the coordinator of this project. I’m new on this job I’ve only met these people once…”
“Besides that…you’re fat. You’d better get on a diet!” (Maybe a big red “A” on my shirt would be appropriate.)
On and on it went until it was 5:00 a.m. Who’s talking in there? Whose voice is it? Well, actually, it’s mine. I’m beating myself up because I forgot about the meeting.
I did have a rather tough week, all the way around. In fact, the past month has been one dead-line after another, one meeting after another, one accident after another (2 deer with two different cars met death this past week), one refrigerator on the blink, a daughter-in-law experiencing labor of sorts, whether it’s the Braxton-Hicks kind or the real thing in slow motion ….one little two year old who’s trying real hard to go potty for grandma and who needs lots of attention while visiting…one irrationally angry, x-friend, who needed to unload on someone, (me) … one son happy about a possible job promotion…one special lunch when I surprised my daughter at her office in another city, one mother in law with sky high blood pressure calling every single day…. Another close friend announcing that she’s divorcing her husband of 30 years….and so it goes. Lot’s of reasons, but no excuse.
Again, what’s a Sister of Satin to do?
This one reached over and woke up her husband, telling him all about the missed meeting, the expectations of my boss, the guilt of not doing my job, and asking his professional advice.
“Go to back to sleep,” he said. “You can’t do anything about it right now. You put in your hours this week and working that extra day isn’t in your contract.”
“What contract,” I countered. “I don’t have a contract. It’s more like I agreed to take on all the responsibilities of my position when I was hired.” I mean, I am the “mother” of this project. I treat it like my own child.”
“I’m sure someone else showed up.” He said. “Besides, they could have called you.”
“No, I don’t think they have my home number.”
“Well, they would have called Nancy (our office receptionist).”
“No, Nancy was off yesterday. “My boss would have answered.”
“Look, a family thing came up and you had to take care of the baby. You can’t take care of anything until Monday.”
“Yeah”, I said. “Plus I was trying to deal with the car that got hit by a deer. At least my boss will be gone…he’s off all week for deer hunting.”
“Go back to sleep honey.”
“No, I’ve been awake for an hour and now I’m hungry. I’m getting up.”
Sitting in my favorite rocking chair, coffee and donut in hand, I read my morning devotional and grabbed my journal. Today’s message was written for me, years before I even needed it. I read:
Which scene?
Actually, the last one...
Scarlett: I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.
I was wide-awake at 4:00 a.m. I was startled within as I remembered something…Oh no! I forgot I was supposed to attend an important meeting…. yesterday. And then, somebody let me have it in the wee hours of a Saturday morning. Geesh! I had looked forward to sleeping in.
“I’m so dumb. Why, why didn’t I even glance at my calendar on my day off from work?
“Because, stupid, your work calendar is at the office….”
“Yes, but you knew about this meeting. Some one was driving over a hundred miles to meet with you about a very important aspect of your job.”
Thank God, I’m sure Chris showed up, I thought. He was supposed to meet me there, as well as everyone on the advisory board. I wonder if MaryEllen showed…. God, I hope so.”
“I wonder what they’re going to think of me now. I’m the coordinator of this project. I’m new on this job I’ve only met these people once…”
“Besides that…you’re fat. You’d better get on a diet!” (Maybe a big red “A” on my shirt would be appropriate.)
On and on it went until it was 5:00 a.m. Who’s talking in there? Whose voice is it? Well, actually, it’s mine. I’m beating myself up because I forgot about the meeting.
I did have a rather tough week, all the way around. In fact, the past month has been one dead-line after another, one meeting after another, one accident after another (2 deer with two different cars met death this past week), one refrigerator on the blink, a daughter-in-law experiencing labor of sorts, whether it’s the Braxton-Hicks kind or the real thing in slow motion ….one little two year old who’s trying real hard to go potty for grandma and who needs lots of attention while visiting…one irrationally angry, x-friend, who needed to unload on someone, (me) … one son happy about a possible job promotion…one special lunch when I surprised my daughter at her office in another city, one mother in law with sky high blood pressure calling every single day…. Another close friend announcing that she’s divorcing her husband of 30 years….and so it goes. Lot’s of reasons, but no excuse.
Again, what’s a Sister of Satin to do?
This one reached over and woke up her husband, telling him all about the missed meeting, the expectations of my boss, the guilt of not doing my job, and asking his professional advice.
“Go to back to sleep,” he said. “You can’t do anything about it right now. You put in your hours this week and working that extra day isn’t in your contract.”
“What contract,” I countered. “I don’t have a contract. It’s more like I agreed to take on all the responsibilities of my position when I was hired.” I mean, I am the “mother” of this project. I treat it like my own child.”
“I’m sure someone else showed up.” He said. “Besides, they could have called you.”
“No, I don’t think they have my home number.”
“Well, they would have called Nancy (our office receptionist).”
“No, Nancy was off yesterday. “My boss would have answered.”
“Look, a family thing came up and you had to take care of the baby. You can’t take care of anything until Monday.”
“Yeah”, I said. “Plus I was trying to deal with the car that got hit by a deer. At least my boss will be gone…he’s off all week for deer hunting.”
“Go back to sleep honey.”
“No, I’ve been awake for an hour and now I’m hungry. I’m getting up.”
Sitting in my favorite rocking chair, coffee and donut in hand, I read my morning devotional and grabbed my journal. Today’s message was written for me, years before I even needed it. I read:
"I can only deal with one day at a time.” “Today is only a small manageable segment of time in which our difficulties need not overwhelm us. This lifts from out hearts and minds the heavy weight of both past and future.” From: One day at a time.
With that in mind, I’m headed for the shower. I’m meeting a new friend this morning for antique shopping and a craft show.
Today I decided, will be a Sister of Scarlett day.
“After all... tomorrow is another day.”
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Adoption, Inhaler, and Mimi
I promised you an Ode to a Tree, about a red maple just outside my window that lights my heart every fall with her vibrant and fiery color.
I will get to that another day. Today I will risk sharing a spiritual exercise with you. Hank and I are facilitating an on-line course in Spiritual Formation. Each week participants read a brief lesson and choose an exercise to do that helps us experience the lesson. Last week I was to pray and ask the Holy Spirit to purify my heart and mind and then listen.
In a nutshell God seemed to be nudging me to reject “the path of least resistance” as my life’s guiding principle. I’ve begun to expect a new adventure in the Spirit. I wonder if God may propose some more challenging path of service for the next phase of my life.
In this week’s exercise I was to spend an hour in prayer, asking the Spirit to begin working in my life in a new and powerful way. Since I often listen to God with a pen in my hand, my listening took the form of a writing exercise I have used before. Some of you may recognize it from some old postings on my website where I selected random images from a list and challenged myself to a free-write.
When I began my hour of prayer for this week’s spiritual formation exercise, I was already a bit sleepy from reading the lesson. I drifted into a kind of half sleep state (which I no longer resist or obsess with guilt about) and noticed on rousing that a series of images had appeared to me in this semi-conscious dream state.
First I saw a quite literal vision of a trusting child, 7 or 8 months old, about to be handed from the arms of her biological father into the arms of her adoptive parents. I believe I was seeing it through the eyes of the child. Second, I also saw myself using an inhaler, like the kind asthma sufferers use. Third I saw my cousin Mimi smiling and laughing, just like she always does.
Three images: adoption, inhaler, and Mimi; Go!
Like a biological dad leaving his child in the care of adoptive parents, Jesus tells his followers he is leaving them. Someone called the Holy Spirit will take his place as his or her comforter and teacher. Jesus said there was so much more he wanted to tell them, but they were not yet ready to hear it. Like the image of the small child, the followers could not begin to understand the reason for their abandonment. This adoption was apparently for the child's own good. Jesus’ time was up. He could not stay with them indefinitely, so he made the supreme sacrifice and left them behind in the care of another.
It turns out, this Holy Spirit is the one who can stay with us forever, live inside us and guide us into the truth. Spirit comes from "pneuma," or breath. We breathe in this spirit, but sometimes, like Marie Osmond on Dancing with the Stars, we forget to breathe, and we fall down. Or for me, when a sleep study showed low oxygen saturation in my blood, I learned I have asthma. Now I use my inhaler twice a day to increase my capacity for breath. How much more should I seek those deep breaths of God’s Spirit that give me the strength and wisdom to live.
Ever since my cousin Mimi suffered a debilitating stroke, I have marveled at her determination and good humor. Paralysis on her right side has changed her mobility, and she’s had to work hard to regain her ability to speak. But she does move and speak and enjoy her life in spite of her physical limitations.
Physical limitations can be overcome with devices and therapies, inhalers and walkers. But forgetting to breathe-in the Spirit will inhibit our walk and our talk. It will paralyze our ability to live and love and serve.
My prayer: Lord, we have this treasure in vessels of clay. Your spirit comes to inhabit us, we breathe you in, you guide us. Just as life and purpose and joy radiate from Mimi every time I see her, may your Spirit—life, purpose and joy—radiate in me. I may use an inhaler for physical breath, but with your help, I can breath your spirit in, as long as I have breath.
I will get to that another day. Today I will risk sharing a spiritual exercise with you. Hank and I are facilitating an on-line course in Spiritual Formation. Each week participants read a brief lesson and choose an exercise to do that helps us experience the lesson. Last week I was to pray and ask the Holy Spirit to purify my heart and mind and then listen.
In a nutshell God seemed to be nudging me to reject “the path of least resistance” as my life’s guiding principle. I’ve begun to expect a new adventure in the Spirit. I wonder if God may propose some more challenging path of service for the next phase of my life.
In this week’s exercise I was to spend an hour in prayer, asking the Spirit to begin working in my life in a new and powerful way. Since I often listen to God with a pen in my hand, my listening took the form of a writing exercise I have used before. Some of you may recognize it from some old postings on my website where I selected random images from a list and challenged myself to a free-write.
When I began my hour of prayer for this week’s spiritual formation exercise, I was already a bit sleepy from reading the lesson. I drifted into a kind of half sleep state (which I no longer resist or obsess with guilt about) and noticed on rousing that a series of images had appeared to me in this semi-conscious dream state.
First I saw a quite literal vision of a trusting child, 7 or 8 months old, about to be handed from the arms of her biological father into the arms of her adoptive parents. I believe I was seeing it through the eyes of the child. Second, I also saw myself using an inhaler, like the kind asthma sufferers use. Third I saw my cousin Mimi smiling and laughing, just like she always does.
Three images: adoption, inhaler, and Mimi; Go!
Like a biological dad leaving his child in the care of adoptive parents, Jesus tells his followers he is leaving them. Someone called the Holy Spirit will take his place as his or her comforter and teacher. Jesus said there was so much more he wanted to tell them, but they were not yet ready to hear it. Like the image of the small child, the followers could not begin to understand the reason for their abandonment. This adoption was apparently for the child's own good. Jesus’ time was up. He could not stay with them indefinitely, so he made the supreme sacrifice and left them behind in the care of another.
It turns out, this Holy Spirit is the one who can stay with us forever, live inside us and guide us into the truth. Spirit comes from "pneuma," or breath. We breathe in this spirit, but sometimes, like Marie Osmond on Dancing with the Stars, we forget to breathe, and we fall down. Or for me, when a sleep study showed low oxygen saturation in my blood, I learned I have asthma. Now I use my inhaler twice a day to increase my capacity for breath. How much more should I seek those deep breaths of God’s Spirit that give me the strength and wisdom to live.
Ever since my cousin Mimi suffered a debilitating stroke, I have marveled at her determination and good humor. Paralysis on her right side has changed her mobility, and she’s had to work hard to regain her ability to speak. But she does move and speak and enjoy her life in spite of her physical limitations.
Physical limitations can be overcome with devices and therapies, inhalers and walkers. But forgetting to breathe-in the Spirit will inhibit our walk and our talk. It will paralyze our ability to live and love and serve.
My prayer: Lord, we have this treasure in vessels of clay. Your spirit comes to inhabit us, we breathe you in, you guide us. Just as life and purpose and joy radiate from Mimi every time I see her, may your Spirit—life, purpose and joy—radiate in me. I may use an inhaler for physical breath, but with your help, I can breath your spirit in, as long as I have breath.
Sisters unite!
Nothing really happened. No big deal, no threats, no hissy fits. Everything seems to be fine. Apologies were accepted and a scolding was received. So, the incident of yesterday seems to be over. Even thin-skinned people know better than to take on 300 of a cities’ upper-crust women. They all have influential husbands in town as well. Nonetheless, it was a mountain made out of a molehill. I’ll chalk it off to toddler training….ugh…Ok, on to bigger and better things.
Speaking of sisters, they really are important. Yesterday’s incident reminded me of a story that needs to be told about love covering and bringing healing. What follows is a true story.
A Sister's Helping Hand
Heidi and Paul Jackson's twin girls, Brielle and Kyrie, were born October 17, 1995, 12 weeks ahead of their due date. Standard hospital practice is to place preemie twins in separate incubators to reduce the risk of infection. That was done for the Jackson girls in the neonatal intensive care unit at The Medical Center of Central Massachusetts in Worcester.
Kyrie, the larger sister at two pounds, three ounces, quickly began gaining weight and calmly sleeping her newborn days away. But Brielle, who weighed only two pounds at birth, couldn't keep up with her. She had breathing and heart-rate problems. The oxygen level in her blood was low, and her weight gain was slow.
Suddenly, on November 12, Brielle went into critical condition. She began gasping for breath, and her face and stick-thin arms and legs turned bluish-gray. Her heart rate was way up, and she got hiccups, a dangerous sign that her body was under stress. Her parents watched, terrified that she might die.
Nurse Gayle Kasparian tried everything she could think of to stabilize Brielle. She suctioned her breathing passages and turned up the oxygen flow to the incubator. Still Brielle squirmed and fussed as her oxygen intake plummeted and her heart rate soared.
Then Kasparian remembered something she had heard from a colleague. It was a procedure, common in parts of Europe but almost unheard of in this country, that called for double-bedding multiple-birth babies, especially preemies.
Kasparian's nurse manager, Susan Fitzback, was away at a conference, and the arrangement was unorthodox. But Kasparian decided to take the risk.
"Let me just try putting Brielle in with her sister to see if that helps," she said to the alarmed parents. "I don't know what else to do."
The Jacksons quickly gave the go-ahead, and Kasparian slipped the squirming baby into the incubator holding the sister she hadn't seen since birth. Then Kasparian and the Jacksons watched.
No sooner had the door of the incubator closed then Brielle snuggled up to Kyrie - and calmed right down. Within minutes Brielle's blood-oxygen readings were the best they had been since she was born. As she dozed, Kyrie wrapped her tiny arm around her smaller sibling.
By coincidence, the conference Fitzback was attending included a presentation on double-bedding. This is something I want to see happen at The Medical Center, she thought. But it might be hard making the change. On her return she was doing rounds when the nurse caring for the twins that morning said, "Sue, take a look in that isolette over there."
"I can't believe this," Fitzback said. "This is so beautiful."
"You mean, we can do it?" asked the nurse."
Of course we can," Fitzback replied.
Today a handful of institutions around the country are adopting double-bedding, which seems to reduce the number of hospital days. The practice is growing quickly, even though the first scientific studies on it didn't begin until this past January.
But Heidi and Paul Jackson don't need any studies to know that double-bedding helped Brielle. She is thriving. In fact, now that the two girls are home, they still steep together - and still snuggle.
Who can measure the special bond of twins?
by Nancy Sheehan
Reader's Digest - May 1996
Pages 155-156
Condensed from Worcester Telegram & Gazette
November 18, 199
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Save the drama for your momma!
Okay, I’ve been approved. I sent out my initial Blog to three of my close friends, including my husband, and got a passing grade. So…. I’m officially launched. I spammed all the ladies in my email address book with the link to come take a looksie.
(Now I’ll be forced to keep it clean, since I included my daughters in the list.) Not that I’d be unclean, but you know, I’m seasoned now with the spice that comes from being around the block a few times. I’m glad that I have all flavors of friends that can add their comments and make this thing interesting.
Today, my co-workers and I did a great thing. We raised thousands of dollars for Women’s Issues in our community. More than 300 wonderful ladies gathered to attend the event. We had two guest speakers, both well respected, educated, successful women who happened to be seniors. One was a radio personality, now 83 years of age and she’s more than “still kickin’.” Since I have a Sister of Satin dream to do a radio broadcast for women, I gleaned several nuggets of gold for future use.
I was ecstatic that one lady at my table received insight as to how she might receive some funding to help with a project she has going for some very needy women in Rwanda. Networking, (not network marketing) was going on all over the room. I was blessed to meet the mother of a great young man who died a while back. I recently wrote a newspaper article about his passing, (car accident) and the scholarship fund that has been established to honor him. The gals and I were riding high on our success, all the way back to the office. Then, it hit the fan.
It seems someone was offended during our meeting and it kind of put a damper on the entire event. This wasn’t just any one; this was a person who sits in a seat of power. Will she do something that’ll hurt us? That we don’t know. However, we are on pins and needles, with wonder. One leader was very shaken by this report. Tears were shed, when rejoicing should have been taking place.
What is a sister of satin to do? Ask someone who knows….
I put in an emergency call to my youngest son who has a degree in PR and asked his opinion as to how to handle this. He was very concise in the approach we need to take.
Apologize to the one offended and explain there was never an attempt to hurt anyone.
Explain the position that my business takes regarding the situation and people.
Be Honest, Be Transparent.
Let the leaders handle it, not me.
The last item is the most important one. Let the leaders handle it. Why is it that we always take on a problem, just because it presents itself? We think we have to diagnosis, fix, and repair everything that seems wrong. We never look at it from the perspective that a little bit of negativity can be good. How? In my humble opinion….
1. It causes us to become more careful.
2. Publicity is always good, even if it’s a titch negative.
3. Since 99% of the meeting went fine and raised a lot of money, the 1% who was offended, just may be very sensitive…. Perhaps….come on people…must we be so thin skinned? Buck it up partner!
Ya know, I’ve been extremely hurt and wounded in my life. When people are offended over such small things I wonder what they’d do if something big ever happened to them. Remind me to tell you about the time I went through a murder situation that knocked the wind out of me for at least five years. Murder, especially that of a child, is a problem. Going to court for years of appeals, that’s a problem. What happened today, again in my opinion, is not worth mentioning out loud.
Nonetheless…it happened….and we’ll see in the next couple of days if there’s going to be repercussions. If there is, I’m really going to be angry. We’ve done so much good and what was said was intended to be funny. We all need to lighten up a little bit.
Later skaters. I’m off to find my flannels…
(Now I’ll be forced to keep it clean, since I included my daughters in the list.) Not that I’d be unclean, but you know, I’m seasoned now with the spice that comes from being around the block a few times. I’m glad that I have all flavors of friends that can add their comments and make this thing interesting.
Today, my co-workers and I did a great thing. We raised thousands of dollars for Women’s Issues in our community. More than 300 wonderful ladies gathered to attend the event. We had two guest speakers, both well respected, educated, successful women who happened to be seniors. One was a radio personality, now 83 years of age and she’s more than “still kickin’.” Since I have a Sister of Satin dream to do a radio broadcast for women, I gleaned several nuggets of gold for future use.
I was ecstatic that one lady at my table received insight as to how she might receive some funding to help with a project she has going for some very needy women in Rwanda. Networking, (not network marketing) was going on all over the room. I was blessed to meet the mother of a great young man who died a while back. I recently wrote a newspaper article about his passing, (car accident) and the scholarship fund that has been established to honor him. The gals and I were riding high on our success, all the way back to the office. Then, it hit the fan.
It seems someone was offended during our meeting and it kind of put a damper on the entire event. This wasn’t just any one; this was a person who sits in a seat of power. Will she do something that’ll hurt us? That we don’t know. However, we are on pins and needles, with wonder. One leader was very shaken by this report. Tears were shed, when rejoicing should have been taking place.
What is a sister of satin to do? Ask someone who knows….
I put in an emergency call to my youngest son who has a degree in PR and asked his opinion as to how to handle this. He was very concise in the approach we need to take.
Apologize to the one offended and explain there was never an attempt to hurt anyone.
Explain the position that my business takes regarding the situation and people.
Be Honest, Be Transparent.
Let the leaders handle it, not me.
The last item is the most important one. Let the leaders handle it. Why is it that we always take on a problem, just because it presents itself? We think we have to diagnosis, fix, and repair everything that seems wrong. We never look at it from the perspective that a little bit of negativity can be good. How? In my humble opinion….
1. It causes us to become more careful.
2. Publicity is always good, even if it’s a titch negative.
3. Since 99% of the meeting went fine and raised a lot of money, the 1% who was offended, just may be very sensitive…. Perhaps….come on people…must we be so thin skinned? Buck it up partner!
Ya know, I’ve been extremely hurt and wounded in my life. When people are offended over such small things I wonder what they’d do if something big ever happened to them. Remind me to tell you about the time I went through a murder situation that knocked the wind out of me for at least five years. Murder, especially that of a child, is a problem. Going to court for years of appeals, that’s a problem. What happened today, again in my opinion, is not worth mentioning out loud.
Nonetheless…it happened….and we’ll see in the next couple of days if there’s going to be repercussions. If there is, I’m really going to be angry. We’ve done so much good and what was said was intended to be funny. We all need to lighten up a little bit.
Later skaters. I’m off to find my flannels…
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Sisters of Satin- who are they?
Sisters of Satin are women between the ages of 35 and 65 who are not Red Hat Ladies. In fact, we don't ever want to be Red Hat Ladies. Nor are we bar hopping, bed hopping, jet-setters, now called set-jetters. We consider ourselves to be simply, "normal."
We're real women, with real lives, real thoughts, real feelings and real emotions. We have real situations in life, and we handle them all. Mostly we're singles, wives, divorcees, and/or mothers. Some of us are grandmothers. We have rich histories, for better or for worse. Most of us grew up in the 60's and 70's.
We all have goals to do something, be someone, or simply make it in this world of higher education, higher technology, higher expectations, and higher risks.
We all suffer disappointments, lack in some areas, broken relationships, plus pain and suffering. Yet, we trudge on, praying for wisdom, asking for blessings, and hoping for a better day. We continue to give beyond our ability. We love hard. We laugh often. We dance whenever... and as fast as we can. Yes, we experience great joy at times too.
We all work, we're all tired. Yet, we know and believe that miracles happen, good things come to those who wait, and some where out there, is a living God who loves us.
Why Sisters of Satin when in truth we wear flannel? Because we dream of the satin. The softness, the beauty, the elegance, the luxury and the status it brings. We believe in the end that there is Satin for us if we just keep going. I believe Cinderella's dress was made of pure satin, don't you?
Why bedtime stories? Because I don't have time to blog until just before bed.
And...In all of this, we depend on the sisterhood.
Kathy
We're real women, with real lives, real thoughts, real feelings and real emotions. We have real situations in life, and we handle them all. Mostly we're singles, wives, divorcees, and/or mothers. Some of us are grandmothers. We have rich histories, for better or for worse. Most of us grew up in the 60's and 70's.
We all have goals to do something, be someone, or simply make it in this world of higher education, higher technology, higher expectations, and higher risks.
We all suffer disappointments, lack in some areas, broken relationships, plus pain and suffering. Yet, we trudge on, praying for wisdom, asking for blessings, and hoping for a better day. We continue to give beyond our ability. We love hard. We laugh often. We dance whenever... and as fast as we can. Yes, we experience great joy at times too.
We all work, we're all tired. Yet, we know and believe that miracles happen, good things come to those who wait, and some where out there, is a living God who loves us.
Why Sisters of Satin when in truth we wear flannel? Because we dream of the satin. The softness, the beauty, the elegance, the luxury and the status it brings. We believe in the end that there is Satin for us if we just keep going. I believe Cinderella's dress was made of pure satin, don't you?
Why bedtime stories? Because I don't have time to blog until just before bed.
And...In all of this, we depend on the sisterhood.
Kathy
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