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. "


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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.


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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.



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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?


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