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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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.

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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.


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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.

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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.


***

Today is D-Day

Our Memorial Day was kind of a blur this year.  But, today, D-Day, I was surprised to see lots of coverage.  However one article in the paper was about how the D-Day invasion is fading from memory.

In 2007, two years before we married, David and I took a romantic cruise from Paris to La havre France.  Seeing Monet's home and the beautiful towns along the way was pure joy.  But one spot was different.  Normandy.  It was solemn and more moving than I ever imagined it would be.

War is hell.  Instead of writing something about D-Day, I've decided to share my mother's poem about Armistice - the signing , in 1911, of the end of World War I (the war to end all wars.)

My mother, Carmen Strange Riley, wrote beautiful, funny, intelligent poetry.  She died at age 37  after spending years in a TB sanitarium.  I don't know how old she was when she wrote this poem in celebration of Armistice Day in Louisville, Kentucky.   She wrote several poems from a child's point of view and sometimes as an only child which was interesting because she was one of the youngest of 13 children.  But, no matter when she wrote it, she expresses all of our feelings about having our loved ones return from war.

P.S.  Let's try not to let D-Day fade from memory.  Watch "The Longest Day"




The Kid's Armistice 

My paw's coming' home now,
'Cause my maw, she 'ist said so.

Boy, won't I be glad to see him
He had to go to war you know.

Paw, he was kinda' young
When maw an' him first met;
An' I wuz young when paw went to war,
An' I ain't very old yet.

Maw, she says there's most a thousand people kilt;
I wonder what they kilt 'em for.
I sure am glad my paw didn't get hurt
In that mean old war.

Last night the whistles blew and blew,
An' maw sang the sweetest song
Maw said 'twas Armistice, and I'm glad
"Cause now my paw'll come home.

Uncle Bob (that's maw's brother) got kilt,
An'when maw got the message, she just cried;
An last night when the whistles blew, she said
"I don't know what we'd done if paw had died."

My Paw's coming' home now,
In a week or two or three;
And I'll kiss him and look in his pockets,
Cause he'll bring home something to maw an' me.

Carmen Strange


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