Small Kindnesses

So I was in Atlanta to be with my daughter and family over the Christmas holidays.  Wasn't feeling up to snuff but it was fun to be there, nevertheless.

On Christmas Eve a neighbor called to say they had extra guests for their Hanukkah dinner and ran out of chairs.  Within five minutes they saw my grandchildren at their front door, each carrying a dining room chair.  Fortunately we didn't need the chairs because we ate in the family room in big overstuffed chairs with me wrapped in a comforter.

I love the New York Times Magazine so my daughter saves them for me.  What a bedtime treat.   I love Judge John Hodgman's column "The Ethicist."  He doesn't offer advice, he delivers justice. The topic could be Bar Trivia, Cat Taxidermy or Office Baking Contests.

But a big surprise to me was a poem I read on Christmas Eve.  You know how I feel about civility and how we need it even more desperately these days, at every level of society.  It's truly a huge part of my basic faith system. The poem is by Danusha Lameris, poet laureate of Santa Cruz County, California.  It's a great reminder for all of us leading into 2020.

SMALL KINDNESSES

I've been thinking about the way, when you walk 
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by.  Or how strangers still say "bless you"
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague.  "Don't die," we are saying.
And sometimes when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up.  Mostly, we don't want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it.  To smile
at them and for them to smile back.  For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire.  Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, "Here,
have my seat."  "Go ahead - you first."  "I like your hat."

Danusha Lameris

***

Google vs. Old School

My minister, David Miller, occasionally refers to Google in his sermons but always references it as "Google, The Source of All Knowledge."  It always gets a little laugh because everybody knows that it's complicated and not always totally without bias.

But this week I noticed the water pressure at my kitchen sink was weak.  My first thought was "Oh, oh, there's a slow leak somewhere in the pipes and soon the place will be flooded and I'll have to move out for several months while my condo's being gutted and rebuilt."

But then I decided to Google it and discovered what was probably wrong and how to fix it and, after watching an attached YouTube video, I fixed it!

But at the other end of the spectrum are books and fine art and such that I want to see "hands on."  Like in a library or a museum.  A while back a friend of mine gave me a "Page-A-Day" calendar containing great works of art.  It's "old school."  I have to manually (what a bother) change the page every day.  I love this calendar.  Every day is a beautiful surprise.

Yesterday was my birthday.  When I changed the page I saw this painting by the Italian portrait painter Vittorio Matteo Corcos.  It was done in 1896 and hangs in the National Gallery of Modern Art in Rome.   It's titled Dreams.  I guess since it was my birthday I was taken by this young woman who probably had big dreams.  It made me think of my own big dreams as a young woman.  I hope hers were fulfilled.

And later, of course,  I Googled it and discovered I could buy a coffee mug with her likeness on it.  Practical but not whimsical.


***

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine

A few weeks ago my niece, Sheri, sent me a copy of this New York Times bestseller.  It's a weird and painful take on a weird and pain filled life of a 29 year old women.  She is horribly wounded and terribly lonely.

The book is also incredibly funny.

Eleanor has no social skills and no sense of humor whatsoever and is clumsy, at best, in her communication with others.  She finds it imperative to tell people what she thinks but is totally closed off about herself.  She has a job but no friends and has "completely fine" weekends in her apartment drinking vodka until she passes out.

One of my favorite lines is when she finds herself in an old lady's apartment.  She describes the kitchen this way.  ...and there was a large calendar with a lurid photograph of two kittens in a basket.  

(This reminded me of myself getting after David for sending checks to so many causes because of the photos of sad children and puppies on the appeal.)  

Eleanor does not care for show tunes.  How do we know this?  Here is her description:

There is no such thing as hell, of course, but if there was, then the sound track to the screaming, the pitchfork action and the infernal wailing of damned souls would be a looped medley of "show tunes" drawn from the annals of musical theater.  The complete oeuvre of Lloyd Webber and Rice would be performed, without breaks, on a stage inside the fiery pit, and an audience of sinners would be forced to watch-and listen-for eternity.  

 In the beginning we don't see how she can possibly be fixed, but eventually Eleanor is befriended by an awkward but kind man named Raymond who opens the door to Eleanor's new life.  It's hard and she almost dies before choosing to be healed.

This is a fantastic book for folks who've suffered childhood traumas that most normal people cannot imagine.  Eleanor finally faces the reality of an evil mother who is still controlling her.  And, in turn, finally is strong enough to put a stop to it.

Did I say that this is an incredibly funny book?

Reese Witherspoon thinks so and is teaming up with MGM to produce the film about our Eleanor.


***

The Gospel According to Brad Paisley

A while back we celebrated All Saints Day in church.  This is the day we honor all those who've gone before us, especially during the past year.  Their photos appear on the big screen in an extremely moving candlelight ceremony.

But this year our pastor of Congregational Care, Gary, asked that we do a new thing and provide photos of us holding our loved one's photo.  It was very cathartic and a beautiful new touch.

Then, this past week we wrapped up a group I've been attending for a while by having communion in the chapel which was, likewise, a moving and healing experience.

So what great hymn of the church was played during this service?  It turned out to be Brad Paisley's hit song "When I Get to Where I'm Going," backed up by Dolly Parton holding a photo of a loved one who's pasted.

I loved hearing this song.  It's not for those who "know" exactly what's on the other side.  It's for those of us who have faith (some days only the size of a mustard seed) that it will be good beyond measure.

When I Get to Where I'm Going

When I get to where I'm going
On the far side of the sky
The first thing I'm gonna do
Is spread my wings and fly

(Chorus)
Yeah when I get to where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
I will shed the sins and struggles 
I have carried all these years
And I'll leave my heart wide open
I will love and have no fear
Yeah when I get to where I'm going
Don't cry for me down here. 

I'm gonna walk with my grand daddy
And he'll match me step for step
And I'll tell him how I missed him
Then I'll hug his neck


***

Central Florida - The Happiest Place on Earth

In 2018, 127 million visitors came to Florida, and they spent 86 billion dollars, funding 1.5 million tourism jobs.  The vast majority of visitors came to Central Florida.  Because, after all, we have the Big Three:  Disney, Universal and Seaworld.  It's pretty easy to spend a billion dollars or so at these places.  So, thank you tourists!

But yesterday, our local columnist, Scott Maxwell, shared his annual 101 Things to Love About Central Florida.  I always love this list.  Why?  The vast majority of them are very low cost or free.  

Below are some of the ones David and I did often.  I'm hoping to be well enough to do them again soon.  It won't be the same, of course, but it will bring back good memories:

          The Annual Festival of Trees at Orlando Museum of Art.  I admit, I liked this more than David but he was a good sport.  These are professionally, over-the-top decorated Christmas trees - tons of them.  twinkle lights galore.  The event lasts about four days and then you can even buy one if you like. 

          Easy drive to beautiful beaches in an hour or so.

          The Farmer's Market in Winter Park.  I might try to go tomorrow morning.  My popcorn lady misses me and I miss her.  When she heard what happened to David she gave me two big bags of popcorn for free.  How kind is that?

          The Winter Park boat rides - These pontoon boats go through a chain of lakes where you see pristine areas mingled with lovely homes.  It's fun to go with a group and bring your own fancy snacks and beverages (adult or otherwise.)

          The Enzian Theater with it's intimate small tables for easy ordering of small bites and Chardonnay.  Our favorite place to sit was on the bottom floor, up front, on one of the couches where you could put your feet up and your head back.

          The Winter Park running of the Chihuahua's.

          And finally, Francesco's in Maitland.  This is a little hard to find Italian restaurant.  It was our favorite romantic restaurant and we ate there often - and, of course, always ordered the same meal (which we shared.)

I'll, hopefully, get back to these things reasonably soon and David will, of course, be with me in my heart.


***

Stories of Our Lives

You Are Old Father William - Written by Lewis Carroll in 1865

In a recent opinion piece for the Orlando Sentinel Anne Elizabeth Zimmermann wrote about Disney's outdated cultural depictions.  She's an expert on all things Disney and lectures frequently at Rollins College on the subject. Over the years Disney stories like "Dumbo" and "The Jungle Book" have depicted cruel caricatures of black Americans.  On the other hand she lauds Disney's  tradition of storytelling that clarifies right and wrong.

She likes the straight forward disclaimer that Warner Brothers uses on their vintage Looney Tunes cartoons:

The cartoons you are about to see are products of their time.  They may depict some the the ethnic and racial prejudices that were commonplace in American society.  The depictions were wrong then and are wrong today.

I agree.  No need to censor or throw out old stories that capture who we were, but to acknowledge them and move on.  And, despite our current tribal mentality, we are moving on.  I love some old films that are delightful, with good over all messages, but then show a big song and dance number done in black face.  That distresses me.  I, like millions of others,  loved Mark Twain's  Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn books.  I wish they came with a disclaimer.

Likewise, one of my favorite poets, James Whitcomb Riley's, "Little Orphan Annie."  Annie's harsh upbringing,  and then Annie herself telling horror stories to the family's (real) children to keep them in line, would be punishable offenses in today's world.

I'm not feeling well this week so have been home rereading old poems and other classic stuff.   Most of us in today's world are aware of "Ageism."  This morning I loved rereading  You Are Old Father William, written in 1865.  Many of us oldies will have Thanksgiving with family next week and our loving children might question some of our current decisions - as is happening with Father William.  He sets them straight.  Here is the first verse:

"You are old Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white:
And yet you incessantly stand on your head-
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son, 
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.

Yesterday my son asked me if I was lonely.  I'm not.  I miss David and I miss not doing some things that are important to me, but, to quote Robert Lewis Stevenson:

The world is so full of a number of things
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.


***

Fear of Falling

...Falls are the number one cause of injuries - and injury death - in older Americans.  -  Center for Disease Control and Prevention

Over the years I've written several postings on falling and how important it is to be proactive.  I have taken several anti-falling classes and currently I'm wearing my Medical Alert button and using my colorful, hand carved cane from Mexico when I'm out and about.

A while back I went to see a good friend who had recently had a bad fall resulting in serious injury.  I admire this woman in so many ways.  She has a career and is the epitome of living a life that matters.  I sat on her couch and asked her to tell me exactly what happened.  She told a funny, hair raising story of doing several things after the fall before deciding to get medical help; like feeding and walking the dog, etc.  She then drove herself, with her bleeding arm wrapped in a blood soaked towel, to the ER.

So, wanting to be as helpful as possible I said, what you did  after the fall was stupid.  But I was laughing when I said it and we went on to have a fun visit, as we almost always do.  She's one of those strong women who's lived a life rich with many chapters.  She's extraordinarily kind and generous but a straight shooter about her beliefs and values - that differ somewhat from mine in the way we live them out.  I respect this.  She respects me.

As I was getting ready to leave she took notice of my hand bag and she expressed concern about how big it was and how it had a short handle that made it difficult to carry on my shoulder.  I told her I had all this stuff to carry, blah, blah, blah, as I was gathering myself, the big purse and my cane.

Then she said, Carrying the big purse is stupid!  Get rid of it.

So I have downsized.


***

Annual Reviews

Philip Gulley has written a column in my Indianapolis Monthly magazine for 13 years.  It's my favorite part of the magazine.  He also writes for other publications, has published a series of books and is a popular speaker.  He's sort of the folksy voice of small town America.

In addition to that Philip Gulley has been the pastor of a Quaker Meeting for 23 years.  And in that position he's been subjected to 23 annual reviews.

So in this month's column Philip writes about that process and how he decided to give various family members a long overdue review, starting with his wife of 35 years, who did not respond well. So he had to put a note in her permanent file that will now follow her the rest of her life.  She did not seem concerned.

Next he reviewed his four year old granddaughter.  He discovered her work habits were somewhat checkered and if this carried over to kindergarten she might not get into her college of choice.  But she also wasn't concerned and wanted them to play together with her Barbies.  But this, however, was problematic because Barbie does not wear underwear.  She too (Barbi) got a bad review.

A while back, Scott Maxwell, a popular columnist with The Orlando Sentinel, did his own take on reviews.  Several people, in response to an issue he'd taken on, told him he was an a-hole.  (Please, not my word and I've cleaned it up.)

So, Scott decided to go home and get an unbiased answer as to whether or not he was an a-hole.  His wife and daughter assured him he was not.  His teenage son, however, had a different take.  Let's just say two out of three isn't bad.

Both Philip and Scott had funny, insightful columns about being evaluated.    Here's the reality about reviews for people who write and speak for a living.  You are constantly being evaluated.  Every piece of work is an audition for the next.

I'm glad that part's over for me.

***

Money, Money, Money, Money

Money Makes the World Go Round - Sung by the money hungry Liza Minnelli and the evil Joel Grey in 1972 film Cabaret

A few weeks ago my minister, David, started his Sunday sermon describing his mother's attitude about money when he was growing up.  She had great difficulty spending it and the only satisfaction she derived from each purchase was defined by how much she saved.

I thought, wait a minute.  I'm not your mom.  How do you know this about me?

I used to think my husband Ken had a strange relationship with money. But somewhere along the way realized that I, as well, had an unhealthy relationship with money.  It used to be called  "depression mentality."  We were the Yin and Yang of unhealthy views.

Of course I still don't throw it away but when I realized at some point that Jesus spent his time here on earth talking to us about our relationships to money, I worked on why I functioned the way I did.  My attitude was fear based and I wanted to get over that.  I now find great joy in sharing what I have.  Sometimes anonymously.  But I'm not unique in this by any means.

Last week in Forum a younger guy facilitated a discussion on folks, from poor to rich, and how our values influence our view of wealth.  It was great.  He had an excellent handout on the hidden rules of economic classes.  But the most interesting thing he shared was a very sad story about his uncle.  I want to share it with you here.  I may not have it quite right (forgive me Luis.) But this is what I heard.

His uncle was a wealthy man but not very social.  Nor was he generous.  He would come to family celebrations but would not get involved in the festivities, no matter what they were.  At some point, in most  family gatherings, he would take out his (fat) wallet and proceed to count his money in front of the group.

I know people like that and I'm sure you do too.  It may not be a fat wallet but they find other ways to demonstrate superiority.  I find it to be so very sad for all concerned. Including, and maybe especially, the uncle.


***

We're Not Goin' Home

Recently John MacArthur,  a wildly popular and successful evangelical minister of a mega church in California, when asked to describe in two words, his feelings about Beth Moore, a wildly popular evangelical female leader, replied,

"Go Home!"

This has started a big old brouhaha in the evangelical  world.  I don't travel in these circles so I barely know who John MacArthur is.  I do know about Beth Moore from her books and Bible studies but she's not one of my personal favorites.  However, in her defense, she's had a powerful spiritual impact of many folks I love and respect.

But I do know about United Methodist clergywomen.  Yesterday I had lunch with one of my very favorites.  She has strongly affected my life, both spiritually and personally, since she came into it 20 years ago.   I'm beyond grateful she was called by God to ministry and I'm beyond grateful that she accepted the call.  We have a strong group of clergywomen in the UMC.  We currently have 16 female bishops, the highest office in the UMC.

As you can image, it has not been an easy process.  As with any kind of change within faith groups, interruption of scripture is paramount.  And even just a few months ago I read an article where clergywomen here if Florida were quoting some of the boneheaded things both male clergy and lay people have said and done to them.

I don't know exactly where mainline churches are headed here in this country.  I can't imagine a world without them.  So I'm grateful for faith leaders who guide us using love, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self control.

And I know our female leaders, lay and clergy, will hang in there and make our voices known.  I don't know exactly where we're going but we're not "going home."


***

Another Bridge Builder is Gone

My husband, Ken, was known as a bridge builder.  But he was also affectionately known as a Yellow Dog Democrat.  This title suggests a person who would vote for a yellow dog before voting for a non-democrat.  Even thought they are polar opposites, he loved both of these descriptions.  I, on the other hand, was way more moderate.

Yesterday's paper announced the death of life long republican  congressman, Lou Frey.  Lou was also a consummate bridge builder.  He got things done.  He liked to discuss all points of view and was good at collaborating with people.

For 20 years he did a program on NPR with Dick Batchelor, a strong Democrat.  Dick is quoted as saying  that  For 20 years at NPR, we did point/counterpoint as a Republican and Democrat, and we never argued about anything.

In the '80s, Lou Frey ran for governor.  He chose Representative Marilyn Evans-Jones as his Lieutenant Governor running mate.  Marilyn was a member of the church where my Yellow Dog Democrat husband was the pastor.  Sounds like trouble, huh.

But Ken, shockingly (to me)  ended up going through the process of changing his party affiliation from Democrat to Republican so he could vote for this team.  Why? Because it was the right thing to do.

Of course, after the vote, he switched back.

Lou Frey helped all of us learn how to be responsible, loving, kind and strong.  And above all, even though it might be extremely uncomfortable, do the right thing.


***

Goodbye Ferris Wheels

Navy Pier in Chicago

Many years ago the Catholic church down the street started a fall Community Fest.  The church has a big campus and it gets outfitted with all kinds of carnival rides and everything else you could image in a mini state fair.  Driving down the street at night and seeing all the neon/twinkle lights is exciting, especially the big Ferris Wheel.   But I never went because my husband, Ken, wasn't well.  Instead of feeling excitement as we drove by, many times, I felt sad and lonely.

London Eye

When I met David a few years later we saw the lights one evening and when I told him my sad story he said, "well we're going".  And we did.  Every single year we walked over, ate crazy food for dinner and rode the Ferris Wheel.

Not only that but we rode some of the best Ferris Wheels in the world - like the one at the Navy Pier in Chicago.  The Navy Pier is one of the most popular attractions in Chicago with its 50 acres of parks, gardens, restaurants, and a giant Ferris Wheel that never stops - so you have to get on fast.

Orlando Eye

And we rode the London Eye, which was the tallest Ferris Wheel  until our hometown, Orlando, built our own Eye, featuring enclosed, air conditioned cars that hold about 18 people.  We rode that too.

The Catholic church Community Fest is next weekend.  I won't be going.  David is gone and I have no business riding, or desire to ride, another Ferris Wheel.   But I'm not at all sad about it.  I feel blessed.

Goodbye Ferris Wheels. We had a great ride.


***

Inside Job

Lately I've been surrounded by personality testing opportunities.  Forum just finished up two sessions on Enneaogram testing.  I took the test but wasn't sure about my results because I was ambivalent about many of my answers.  I came out a (weak) number one.  It's titled perfectionist.  I never considered myself a perfectionist.  But some of the other stuff made sense.

Also, as I discussed in my last blog posting,  I bought the book "Living Your Strengths" took the test, and was not one bit surprised at the outcome.  Strategic Thinking trumped everything else.

So what's the problem?  I've been suffering anxiety attacks that bring on physical illness - almost daily - for four months straight.

Since I'm a strategic thinker I've worked hard to problem solve.

Then, in the past ten days, two things have happened. First, I received one of the first copies of my daughter, Sarah's new book.  Sarah has been working on this book a long time but she never shared the content with me.  For me, it's a fantastic devotional, and one of the most positive books I've ever read.  But it will be powerful for folks in all walks of life, no matter where you are spirituality. Right there on the cover it says "Throw off the facade of perfection."

Last week I started seeing a highly recommended therapist.  She's not all that interested in the stress filled life I've led in the past four months, and by the way, my whole life.  She essentially said that the problem's not coming from the outside - it's coming from the inside.  She wants me to be vulnerable, not something I'm comfortable with.

I took this as good and bad news.  But then, in reading Sarah's book, I found several vignettes about me.  Some of them not easy to read - but all of them true.  And it's not like I haven't been aware of this truth for a very long time.  I wrote the poem below in the 1970s, when Sarah was a baby.  And (this is an aside) the title is a forerunner to Sarah's job as a prosecuting attorney in Dekalb County Georgia.  (She helped stop crime big time.)

HELP STOP CRIME

I accused you of a felony,
I thought you broke my heart,
And ruined my life,
But, 
After thoroughly investigating
   the crime,
I will concede,
It could have been an inside job.

Cecily Crossman 


***

Michael's Wings

In the 1996 film, "Michael," John Travolta plays a loveable but deeply flawed angel complete with big bulky wings that he keeps covered with a raincoat.  The angel Micheal seemingly has some very human traits such as eating too many chocolate chip cookies and being irresistible to women (and he to them.)  He does one of his sexiest dances ever - wearing the overcoat.  He seems to operate totally from a sense of passion.

But every time Michael saves a life it takes a lot out of him and he becomes weaker.  Eventually he starts losing feathers from the wings giving us a sense of foreboding.  It's a symbol that Michael is dying.

By the way, this is a fantastic movie.  Totally entertaining.

So what does this have to do with the photo of the orchid arrangement that I just posted a couple of weeks ago telling you how much I love it?

The petals have started to fall.  Seeing them on the flower has made me unusually sad and vaguely aware of some sad memory.  Then it came to me that it's from the images of the Michael movie. I am having somewhat the sense of foreboding that I had when Michael's wings started dropping.


***

Who Am I Now?

There's no crying in baseball.  Tom Hanks, "A League of Their Own."

The phrase above essentially means "Toughen up" or "Be strong." And in this context it used to mean that baseball was a man's game and men don't cry.  Hence, there's no crying in baseball.

The prevailing stereotype throughout human history is that women are predominately right brain (emotional.)  and men left brain (logical.)

Every personality test I've ever taken has shown me to be a heavily Left Brain person, meaning the logical far overrides the emotional.  I have a friend who now lives in Colorado who has somewhat the same make up.  Years ago, she told me that when her husband was near death she instantly became tough and lazer fixed on getting the proper things done.

That's what we "left brainers" do.  I was the same when both of my husbands were dying.  A few weeks ago, when my David suddenly passed away,  I was lazer focused on doing the proper things in the proper order - first calling his kids then making absolutely sure his body was prepared for donation to the UCF Medical School, per his wishes.  But prior to that, in the few months that he was recovering from an accident (before he died!) my health began falling apart.

Self knowledge has served me well over the years and I know has enabled me to be strong and helpful to others through my work and personal relationships.  And my logical thinking and self knowledge has helped me personally as well.  I have enjoyed presenting myself as A Strong Woman.

But now I'm 80!  And have a miserable, chronic illness, to which I believe my left brain dominance has contributed.  For me, the main trigger for my Meniere's episodes is anxiety.  It's like my body is saying to my brain, "Hey, Cess's brain.  You may think you're still in charge but let me show you what I'm up to."  Have I mentioned that I have always been pretty good at keeping confidences?  So naturally I still find myself knew-deep in other people's stuff.

For the past several weeks my church has been emphasizing the concept of "Living Your Strengths."  As part of that we've been urged to take a Gallop test to determine what our strengths are.  It cost 20 bucks to take the test so you have to be motivated.

I'm motivated!  I bought the book and took the test, hoping it would give me some different data at this late date.   But no...Following are my top five "strengths."

1.  Connectedness -RELATIONSHIP BUILDING.  In your soul you know that we are all connected. Yes, we are individuals, responsible for our own judgments and in possession of our own free will, but nonetheless we are part of something larger.  You are a bridge builder for people of different cultures.  Your faith is strong.  Yes, this is me and I continue to like this.

But, in light of my current predicament and, oh yeah, the fact that I'm 80, perhaps the other four strengths need to be a little more self focused.

2.  Learner -STRATEGIC THINKING.  The process of learning rather than the outcome, excites them. 

3.  Input-STRATEGIC THINKING.  They collect information and ideas.

4.  Intellection - STRATEGIC THINKING.  They need intellectual activity. You are introspective and you appreciate intellectual discussions.

5.  Analytical - STRATEGIC THINKING.  You like data because they are value free and help you search for values and causes. 

So, no new news here!  But maybe being reminded of this left brain dominance will help me, along with a professional counselor (who won't try to hug me and say, there, there, don't worry your little head about that,) deal with my anxiety and my current propensity to watch the room spin around while I'm throwing up.

By the way,  I highly recommend this book that comes at this prospective through a theological lens, if that's your thing, as it is mine.

Living Your Strengths - From Gallup by Albert Winseman, Don Clifton and Curt Liesveld.


***

Ms Monopoly

When my kids were growing up we played lots of board games.  I thought they taught all of us practical skills, like strategic thinking and the value of owning property.  In the summertime we sometimes played these games for hours or days.

So when, this past week, Hasbro came out with a new version of Monopoly called Ms. Monopoly, I was happy - but then after reading a bit about it I wasn't happy.  I was perplexed about my feelings.  But the first thing that caught my attention was that the guys are given $200 to start and the gals are given $240.

That didn't make sense to me.  I found it a bit offensive but didn't really know why, except it's not fair.  (Two wrongs don't make a right.)  But I also thought that no male member of the human race would want to play this version of game so why bother.

 I Googled the public's reaction to Ms. Monopoly and found some negative reactions.  One writer suggesting its design is supposed to empower women but it does just the opposite.

And then on Saturday, NPR's "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me," the panelists went to town on Ms. Monopoly.  One compared it to Lady Pens (a real thing) "so we could better hold it in our tiny little hands."  Then suggested that the $240 would, of course, be worth only 78 cents per dollar, and that the playing pieces would consist of a bra, and a tampon,  and that the top hat be replaced by a flowery one.  And that Park Place be replaced by "Not as Good at Parking" Place.

So by that time, I was laughing and understanding more why Ms. Monopoly might not be the best idea.

In 1904 Elizabeth Magie invented a game called The Landlord's Game.  It was created to be a "practical (negative) demonstration of the practice  of land grabbing" at that time  She later sold the patent to Parker Brothers (which later merged with Hasbro) for $500.  It, in turn, morphed into Monopoly, which, of course, encourages land grabbing.

Maybe Hasbro could invent a game about that.


***

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

...you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?
If you say that you are mine
I'll be here 'til the end of time
So you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?

If I go there will be trouble
If I stay it will be double.

- The Clash

In 2007 David and I saw a documentary called "Young At Heart," about a music director for a senior senior.  He developed a hard rock music group with these people whose average age was about 83.  We followed their rehearsals, interspersed with surgeries, oxygen masks, and even deaths.  The grand finale was them performing to a packed house.  It's highly likely that all of these folks are dead now.

My favorite part was this old, old lady (who had somewhat of a beard) belting out ...you've got to let me know, should I stay or should I go? The words took on an entirely new meaning.

I loved this documentary and loved the fact that this guy who was a hard rock pro would take on this project.

What brought it back to mind was hearing a sermon by a younger guy who, in my opinion, is an extraordinarily talented futurist who can help lead our denomination in a new direction.  The jest of the sermon was about God being involved in our decision making and, if we allow it, God may even direct our decisions.  Jon believes, as I do, that all decisions are spiritual.

But one of our challenges is that we sometimes fear decision making so much that we refuse to do it.  I used say to my children "Make a decision and make it right."

This sermon, to me, addressed The Clash song, "Should I Stay or Should I Go?"

- Should I stay in some of my current groups?

- Should I stay with my denomination or leave in this troubled time?

- Should I stay in my home or go a more care free lifestyle place?

- Should I have more help around here?

To me, all of these questions, as well as all the others in my life right now,  are spiritual and about relationships. I'm firm on the ones I've listed but still grappling with some others.

Check out the 2007 documentary, Young at Heart.



*** 

Powerful Books

A friend of mine gave me this book a couple of weeks ago.  You know I don't care for "girly" books or sweet books with puppy dogs on the cover.  So when she handed me this one I thought "Oh, oh!"  The title, "Grace Disguised" and the photo of the cover made me think it probably wasn't for me.  But then she told me it was given to her when she was going through a bad time - but she couldn't read it.  It was just too hard.

So, naturally,  I was intrigued so thought I'd give it a whirl.

It was written over twenty years ago and, apparently, has been a best seller since.  The author, Jerry Sitter,  at the time it was written, was a professor of religion at Whitworth Collage.  He holds a doctorate in history from the University of Chicago.

I have something underlined on almost every page.  He starts out telling his story, which, in a nutshell, is this.  He was driving a vehicle carrying his wife, his four children, and his mother.  A drunk driver ran into them, instantly killing his wife, his youngest child, and his mother.  Another child was severely injured.

Nothing in his description is sugar coated.  He describes the catastrophic loss that leaves our lives changed forever.  Nor does he compare his tragedy to others.  He simply lays bare his story, day to day and year to year.  There were set backs.  For instance, the other driver was eventually acquitted because the prosecutors thought they had a slam-dunk case and they were ill prepared for the defense team.

Here are a couple of quotes:

All people suffer loss.  Being alive means suffering loss....But there is a different kind of loss that inevitably occurs in all our lives....This kind of loss has more devastating results, and it is irreversible.  Such loss includes terminal illness, disability, divorce, rape, emotional abuse, physical and sexual abuse, chronic unemployment, crushing disappointment, mental illness and untimely death....The results are permanent, the impact incalculable, and the consequences cumulative.

And then I saw two quotes that reminded me of myself in the loss of each of my husbands.  First, during the last few years of Ken's slow decline, physically and mentally ...

They also feel resentment, labor under constant exhaustion, worry about money, and wonder about the future.

And then when the author described his wife he was also describing David...

She laughed far more than she cried, and delighted in ordinary life.  She was good and guileless to the core of her being.

Needless to say, I love the book.

***

How Am I Doing?

Who the self was before the loss, what the self feels in the loss, and how the self responds to the loss make each person's experience different from all the others.  - Jerry Sittser

I think I'm doing pretty well.  David's been gone about six weeks.  I have lots to do and people who need me so that's good.  The only times I get a little impatient is when, occasionally, not often, somebody gives me unsolicited advice on how I should be feeling.  It happened yesterday.  Someone, trying (I guess) to be nice, told me exactly how I should feel .  And, of course, I loved the part about how she said David was old so I should have expected this!!

We can't help how we feel.  Grieving is different for everyone.  I think I'm doing fine.  But I do have a somewhat inappropriate relationship with the orchid grouping in this photo.  It's not even mine.  It was given to David's daughter by her friends but there was no way to get it on the plane - so I have it.  I spent a few days at my son's house waiting for the hurricane that never came.  The only thing I was really concerned about was the orchid.  I had the hurricane door in place so it was in the dark for four days. As soon as we got the okay my granddaughters and I came back and rescued the orchid.

And yesterday when I was walking in the mall I was so happy to see that, after three months, the Apple Store was finally reopened and it is spectacular.  My first thought was David will love this.  And I had my hand on my phone ready to take a picture and send it to him.  

So looks like I'm not yet totally dealing with reality.


***

How Am I?

"To forgive oneself"?  No, that doesn't work:  We have to be forgiven.  But we can only believe this is possible if we ourselves can forgive.

- Dag Hammarskjold

You know the woman on your GPS device who tells you how to go from point A to point B?  But then you decide she's not correct and try your own route?  And then she tries to correct you without appearing to be perturbed but you can tell she is as she tries to get you back on track?

It's been five weeks today since David died.  How am I?  I'm not sure.  Yesterday I tried to go to lunch with friends, defied the WAZE (GPS) woman because I thought I knew a shortcut, and ended up in a huge traffic jam.   I finally headed back home.  But she was trying to correct me all the way.  It was annoying.

Today I woke up sick, with a  sore throat and laryngitis.  (No, it's not because I was yelling at the GPS lady.  I wanted to but I wasn't.)

Over the last decade or so I have considered myself a bit of an expert on grief and how it affects people differently.  Also, I'm well aware of my tremendous support system, including my family and David's family, as well as friends galore.

As David's son used to say "Everybody loves my dad."

My favorite grief devotional, given me by my friend who's about a month ahead of me in this sad journey,  has the Dag Hammarskjold quote above for today's reading.  At first I didn't agree with his forgiveness concept but then decided he was referring to people who've gone on before us. (And who am I to disagree with Dag Hammarskjold about most anything?)

Here is what has come to my mind several times today.  The day David died was a wonderful day for us.  We had a great doctor's appointment where he was cleared for future minor surgery, we ate at one of our favorite restaurants, then went to the grocery store, David taking his cart and half the list like always.  Late in the afternoon I said something to David that I have since come to regret.  I congratulated him again on doing the extremely hard work of getting well with his usual amazingly good humor.  But, because he was just declared to be back in the ball game, I added:  "You know David, I kept up a good front but I'm not sure that  I could actually have gone on without you."

And then a couple of hours later he was gone.

As time has gone on I so regret saying that.  But maybe Dag Hammarskjold (who really was an authority on pain and grieving) has a point.  The last line of today's devotion is "The question now is, Can I let it go?  Because if we can, we can be assured that our loved one has already done so. "


***

World Without End

The Kingsbridge trilogy, written by Ken Follett, consists of three books, each about a thousand pages long.

• Pillars of the Earth
• World Without End
• A Column of Fire

The books take place in the 13th century and the back story is about building the great cathedrals in Europe.  They are classic, epic masterpieces but deep and exhausting.  

I didn't have the energy to tackle a project this size but David was reading the first one, loved it, and we discussed it often.  

When I told my friend, Karen, this we said she was reading them as well and dropped off her copy of World Without End at the house for David to borrow.  

Early in April, when David was first being diagnosed with what turned out to be a small stoke, Karen showed up at our door distressed and in tears.  I got him to the door and they had a long discussion.  I thought she was upset about David's health issues - but she wasn't.  (I don't know if she even knew about them.)

Karen was at our door because it was April 15th, the day of the Notre-Dame de Paris fire.  She didn't know anyone else who would understand the intensity of her feelings about this great cathedral.  

Later on David's health issues became critical, then much better, then he died on July 18th.  But prior to that, when he was recovering, he went back to reading the second book in the trilogy, World With End,  I'm getting ready to return it to Karen.  It is 1,103 pages long.  The last page he read was 961.  I marked it for Karen to see that David almost finished - but not quite. 

World Without End, Amen.


***

Going Deep

Lectio Divina is Latin for Devine Reading, an ancient  monastic practice of scripture reading composed of four steps:  Read, Mediate, Pray and Contemplate.

 I know what you're thinking:  "Oh no, she wants us to study scripture - in Latin.  I'm outta here."

But hang in for a minute.  I am a left brain person (more thinking than feeling.)  But I'm in a state now where I need to kind of monitor my feelings. A couple of nights ago, when my mind was racing and I couldn't sleep I did a little mini form of Lectio Divina, using an easy and  familiar verse from the Psalms:

O, taste and see that the Lord is good, (vs 34)

I picked out (for me) the four most important words then proceeded to go deep with them.

Taste: When did I ever "taste" that the Lord is good?  That's a toughie.  Then I remembered a time more than fifty years ago when my husband, Ken, and I were living in Georgia where he was in theology school and I was employed at Emory University.  We had two pre-school children, Cathy and Scott ,and we all loved to visit Tallulah Falls in Northeast Georgia.  It was a beautiful spot.  Since the children were small we waded just a bit in the fast moving, very cold water.  Then we spread out a blanket, ate some snacks and read to the kids;  sometimes Bible stories, sometimes not.  But, first, upon arriving, we put Cokes (back then they came only in five oz bottles) in the ice cold stream.  So while we were resting and reading we each had an ice cold Coke. (Yes, we gave our pre-schoolers Cokes. We didn't know any better.) Often still I associate the taste of those cokes with those perfect little pockets of time at Toullough Falls.

O yes, another example is communion.

See:  This one's easy.  Whenever I see or experience tragedy,  I find people being brave, loving and kind in unreal ways.  "Running to the fire."  I'm dealing with it right now, along with heartbreak.  It's humbling to just accept it and say thank-you.  Mr. Rogers used to tell us that wherever we're scared we should "Look for the helpers."  No matter what their beliefs or no-beliefs, I see Christ in them.

Tallulah Falls

Lord:  What does the Lord look like?  I'm not sure.  I used to accept those familiar, stereotype pictures of the white Jesus with the long curly hair.  But since the part of God (the Trinity) that walked on this earth was born a Jew in a small town outside Jerusalem, that doesn't do for me.  At a Children's Home that I know and love there used to be pictures in the narthex of the chapel depicting Jesus playing soccer and baseball.  I thought they were charming and reassuring but a number of visitors complained about the "Jesus playing sports" concept.  Occasionally some trouble-making feminists will say "God is a woman" but that is a way too limiting way of describing God.  In the last few years I've received peace in abstract paintings that represent the mysterious God-Three-in-One.

Good:  This seems like a no-brainer.  But the Old Testament God is often portrayed as a vindictive dictator.  All three major religions as well as hundreds of different Christian denominations have contradicting views of what "Good" looks like.  When someone tells you at your child's funeral that "God needed another angel,"  that's not my image of God or Good. The image of God is, for me, is one of total love, surrounded by mystery and worthy of deep Lectio Divina.  O, taste and see that the Lord is good.



***

The Lamp

For many years I had an antique lamp in the living room.  It was awkward, too short for a floor lamp. too tall for a table lamp,  but I liked it.

Then David showed with a lamp I liked better and it fit the space.  So we decided to give the old lamp to my daughter for Christmas.  (They like old stuff, including me and Dave.)  But then the globe, that looks something like the one pictured, broke.

Eventually we went to the lamp store and bought a globe for $12.

But prior to that David had to draw the picture below to take with us.  I love the drawing.  It's pure Dave.  I especially like the second version with the squiggle light bulb and  base (in case the lamp guy didn't know how to screw in a light bulb.)

Was It Worth It?

www.janrichardson.com

Hope for the best, expect the worst
Some drink champagne, some die of thirst
No way of knowing which way it's going
Hope for the best, expect the worst!

Hope for the best, expect the worst
The world's a stage, we're unrehearsed
Some reach the top, friends, while other drop, friends
Hope fore the best, expect the worst!

Live while your alive, no one will survive....

The quote above was written by the cynical but genius Mel Brooks.

Jan Richardson is another writer and artist I admire, although she's nothing like Mel Brooks.  She is deeply spiritual and full of mysticism and wisdom.  I remember years ago when she lived at a monastery and had a kiln.  if you know the term Woo Woo - Jan is Woo Woo, in a most positive way.  I am not Woo Woo but I love everything she does.  Check out her website.

Some time, about ten or eleven years ago, Jan and I had lunch together.  We were both madly in love and contemplating marriage.   But we both faced huge obstacles.  Very different obstacles for each of us.   But in many, many ways it would have been easier for each of us not to get married but just stay committed to our lovers.  Again, for very different reasons.  Jan is much younger than me.

Soon after our lunch we both had weddings.  Jan on a farm in a beautiful dress, me in a downtown church in Atlanta in a pants suit.  Three years into her marriage her, Jan's husband Gary went to the hospital for minor surgery and died on the operating room table.  Two weeks ago, after almost ten years of marriage, David died.

We are both still madly in love with our husbands.  I know this about Jan because she incorporates her love for Gary into everything she does.  She is one of my favorite Wounded Healers.

Was it worth it?

Are you kidding?


***

Getting to Know You on Social Media

As you probably know, I like social media.  This, despite the fact that I got hacked on Facebook this past week.  There are folks I see on a regular basis who I know very little about and other folks I seldom see who I feel close to because of how they use social media.  Case in point are ministers.  I know several who use the media in creative ways to help us know them.  I know and listen to others who I don't feel like I know at all because, for whatever reason, they don't share themselves.

The bishop with some Methodist
VIPs in a coffee shoe.

An example of the former is Bishop Ken Carter.  He is the United Methodist bishop assigned to Florida.  He's also president of the Council of Bishops.  A very big deal because the United Methodist Church is involved in a world wide crisis right now.  Ministers and laypeople have no idea at this point what the future holds.  The bishop, as you can imagine, has an extremely impressive pedigree.  If you want to be impressed, look him up.  You'll find major achievements galore for not only himself but his entire family.

But that's not what he posts on social media.  I think I've met the bishop once or twice but I'm sure he has no idea who I am.  However, here's a small bit of what I know about him.

• He loves baseball and loves to go to spring training.
• He loves to take walks in the early mornings wherever in the world he is.  
• He's crazy about his family, especially his adorable little granddaughter. 
• He's a Dukie.

Bishop Carter sharing a shot of
fellow Duke fans Rob Low and
his son. 

Bishop Carter is very tall, I believe he's 6 feet, 7 inches tall.  Three or four years ago he fell off the stage at a conference and was seriously injured.  He shared this and the long mending process on social media.  He shares photos of important people with whom he is meeting - but it's usually a selfie taken in a relaxed setting.  And he's usually scooching down to get closer to these folks. He is constantly and publicly complimenting his ministers.  And, along with all this he shares his brilliant mind in a manner that's charming and easy to receive.

For instance, Bishop Carter recently shared the quote below about the importance of mentoring.

My spiritual director told me once that, because of my height, the roles I have been given and being a white male, I need to remember that my voice is louder than I often realize.  I sense that I am speaking normally- someone else might hear it as a megaphone. He was of course guiding me toward humility. - Bishop Ken Carter.

***

Priorities Change

I am a compulsive door locker.  Always have been.  House, cars, everything!

A couple of months ago I went to visit my friend Robbi who was at home with hospice (and who has since passed away.)  You can imagine how I was feeling.  Sad doesn't begin to cover it.  But when I got there, I saw a handwritten sign on the front door that made me smile.  It said something like..."Door is open.  Robbi's bedroom to the right."

Fast forward to a few weeks ago.  Dave was in rough shape,  in bed most of the time.  We were expecting a cognitive therapist to arrive some time in the next couple of hours.  In the meantime,  I felt a vertigo attack creeping into my brain.  What should I do?  If I moved around I would become violently ill with all sorts of unattractive symptoms.  If I stayed perfectly quiet I could ride it out.

But how could we receive the therapist and get him to the bedroom?

I quickly grabbed the Magic Marker and taped a sign to the front door that said:  "Door is open.  Our bedroom to the left."  And then I got in bed with Dave and relaxed.  Presently I heard a man's voice calling "Hello."  I replied "Come on in."  And he did.

Later,  after he was gone and I was feeling a bit better, I got a phone call from neighbors who were out for a walk and wondering if we needed anything.  By this time I was on a roll.  I asked that they come in the condo, grab my laptop and a couple of other things and bring them to us in our bed.  They arrived about three minutes later.

I've since quit leaving the front door open for strangers to walk in but that day turned out to be a good day to relax and go with the flow.  And every time I think of that day I also think of Bill and Robbi.  And how priorities sometimes need to be adjusted.

By the way, the cognitive therapist released Dave last week saying his brain seems to be functioning fine.  We're not so sure about me.


***

Christ Figure

I dedicate this book to my beloved fifteen-year-old black Lab, Venus, whom I had to release to God while beginning to write this book.  Without any apology, lightweight theology, or fear of heresy, I can appropriately say that Venus was also Christ to me.  - Father Richard Rohr

David and I have been watching some old but highly praised movies on TCM while we've been recuperating.  One was the 1958 film "The Young Lions," a movie about three soldiers during WW II.  Montgomery Clift and Dean Martin, play American draftees.  The other, Marlon Brando, a conflicted German soldier.

One reason to watch this film is that Brando and Clift were two of the greatest Method actors of their time.  The movie is brutal and tough to watch in some places, but eventually satisfying.  The torture didn't take place on the battle field, it happened in Montgomery Clift's platoon.  He was brutalized by men in his own unit.  Why?  Because he was an American Jew.  But the way he responded was remarkable, especially when he later saved one of his tormentors.

For some reason I haven't been able to get this character out of my head and my heart.  And then it dawned on me,  Montgomery Clift's character was a Christ figure for me.  But I had no intention of sharing that view with you...

...until I started reading Father Richard Rohr's new best seller, "The Universal Christ"  and saw that he dedicated this book to his dog, Venus, who he said in his dedication was "Christ" to him.

I am blessed to be around so many folks who don't believe the way I do or live the way I live but, in the last few weeks, I have seen Christ in them - whether they know it or not.

Check out "The Young Lions."  You'll see what I mean.


***

What Time iIs It?

When four grandchildren were here a couple of weeks ago I told them about one of Dave's cognitive tests (which, by the way,  he passes with flying colors.)

For example, for this one the therapist handed Dave a blank sheet of paper and asked him to draw a circle.  Then he was asked to draw the numbers on a clock.  And next he was asked to set the hands at ten minutes after ten.

Piece of cake. right?

However every one of these smart, high tech kids said they couldn't do it.  What an eye opener for me.  This generation of young people apparently tell time digitally - exclusively.

When we asked them how they would follow the instruction, they said the answer would look like 10:10.  They are apparently unfamiliar with the little hand on the 10 and the big hand on the 2.

I wonder if when they go to The Magic Kingdom they will start clockwise or counterclockwise.

***

And Then There Were Nine

Over the years you've often heard me refer to my Power Rangers.  This is a group of ten women who've been together for twenty-five, plus, years.

We started as an accountability group and over the decades became so much more.  Much good has come to the world through this gang of ten.   Far more than we could have accomplished separately.

We began as a group of powerful women - and in the ways that really count, we still are.  But now we are missing one.  Robbi Walker died a few days ago.  She was the powerful matriarch of a powerful family and a powerful force in my life - and so much more.

Several months ago Dave told me he couldn't sleep the night before.  Why not?  Those of you who know Dave will be surprised with his response.  He was praying.  More specifically, he was praying for Robbi and her family.

I said, "tell me about that."

Well he started in explaining to God about who Robbi was and is.  He didn't know her well but he cared very much for her and loved hearing me talk about her accomplishments and how she impacted my life.  Dave explained to God about how Robbi, after her children were grown, went off to seminary to become a United Methodist minister and after she finished she was the pastor of a tiny church in Winter Park, Florida for a few years before she retired.

After the Robbi reports, Dave told God some things about Bill, her husband, and what an amazing leader he was (and is) in law, Methodism, business, raising chickens, etc.

This is where I started rolling my eyes.  If God didn't already know these things about the amazing Bill Walker, God was the only one in the Southeastern United States who didn't.

But, then, Dave thought he needed to tell God something about the magnificent children the Walkers had raised.  He told God several things about Michele, and her many triumphs and tragedies and more triumphs.

By this time I actually said to Dave, "I'm glad you don't know Sean and Kennan because we'd never get out of this kitchen."

But wasn't Dave asking questions that most of us have asked?  Why has a family, one that has blessed so many, been given such challenges?

I don't know.  I only know that I loved Robbi; she fought the long, hard fight and is now at peace with God.


***