Category Archives: Meeting life’s challenges

Balance

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I recently had surgery. It was major. Although I thought I was prepared, the scenarios I created in my mind fell short of what would be reality. With this necessary recovery I have had to slow my pace. This downtime has allowed me time to think about items I ordinarily wouldn’t have the time to explore. I am beginning to think that I could insert the word “life” for surgery and make some comparisons.

If you have read any of my previous blogs you might have identified my appreciation of being self-sufficient and independent. Retaining that was part of my strategy. I don’t like the feeling of being vulnerable but surgery aka life often has a different lesson to teach. The surgery presented me with mobility issues and I couldn’t expect my days to run routinely. My game plan was not to totally shut people out but not to have anyone stay with me. I implemented that approach but found that I was grateful when help found its way to my doorstep.

There seems to be a recurrent theme in my life. Stubbornness and pride often get whittled away. What I initially view as strong traits, perceived as gifts, have often been challenges that need to be addressed. This recent surgery has had me look upon daily activities, those that we all take for granted, as challenging and almost impossible tasks. No one considers jumping into the shower a physical challenge but I learned it took thought and energy. Struggling to find the ability to follow through with normal routine care made me feel subhuman.

I am fortunate to be doing well. I have been blessed with a great medical team and a support system without rival.  There are those who have encouraged me from a distance by offering their well wishes and prayers. My 18 year old cat took a week to adjust to the upheaval but she soon realized that the change in routine and additional equipment didn’t change who I was. Her attention and affection have brought me great comfort. I cannot think of one item that has gone unaddressed. Once again, I have had to learn to be humble and gracious. There is a question as to whether I could ever repay the many ways I have been cared for but I realize those who are assisting me are not doing it for recompense. I look forward to being able to find ways to pay it forward and assist others when opportunity permits.

Life often brings us items that need to be addressed. It could involve any aspect of our existence: health, finance or relationships. Shielding our eyes never resolves the issue and can often make the challenge a larger one. Making the needed improvement takes time and planning. Nothing worthwhile can be rushed. During that time of correction, it can be uncomfortable. There could be days that one wonders if it would have been easier to ignore it but it is important to face it head on and continue to move forward. In time the pain and difficulty will ease and soon be forgotten. The gain can be celebrated. Life doesn’t promise that we only have to meet the test once but with each trial we acquire the skill and ability to face the next challenge with grace. It’s all a balancing act. When my recovery is complete I will rejoice but I pray that I don’t soon forget the lessons imparted.

More Than Words

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When I was ten years old, I experienced something that would stay with me my entire life. I don’t recall how it happened, but I managed to find To Kill a Mockingbird. At the time I was interested in the story as I thought it would help me understand my father’s upbringing. He was born in southern Georgia in 1924. For much of my life, I lived a stone’s throw from the Mason Dixon line. It didn’t provide me with the environment and history that he would have encountered in his youth. It felt foreign to me and I thought for certain that this book would provide me with the background that I was seeking.

Now, as an adult, I realize the content might have been an eye opener for someone whose life experience was only a decade in the making. I remember there were subjects and terms that went over my head. At those times, I would turn to my father for an explanation. Once I remember asking him what a “war” lady was. As my father had a hearing impairment, he looked at me quizzically and asked me to repeat the question. I asked again what a war lady was. When my pronunciation wasn’t getting the job done, he finally asked me to spell it. W-H-O-R-E. At that point there was a clear understanding and I was given a clear explanation. Other questions I posed might have shown my lack of knowledge but this one proved my innocence. Now, with a slight grin on my face, I realize that time has replaced the embarrassment with humor.

Although To Kill a Mockingbird was published over 60 years ago, it has remained a mainstay in my life. It was not a coincidence that I had a pair of cats named Scout and Atticus. Scout is the only one who remains and she is often thought to be male due to her name. Calling her Jean Louise would not have felt right. When I recently saw that Richard Thomas was in the current stage production and would be performing at the Kennedy Center, I knew I had to be there. Admittedly, there was a teenage girl’s voice in my head saying how exciting it would be to see John Boy in person. Aware that his role in the Waltons was relegated to history and my crush had long since faded there was still every reason to want to see him. He has a reputation for being a fine theater actor and I relished the idea that the portrayal of my childhood hero was entrusted to him.

I was enthralled by the production. I didn’t need a reminder why the book has always been so special to me. I have long acknowledged the importance of respect and human dignity. I believe it fueled the professional success I have had working out in the community all these years.  Atticus exemplified living the golden rule. He was a role model to his children but was challenged by his neighbors when doing the right thing. It comes down to truth and the struggle between good and evil. As the show was coming to an end I found tears in my eyes. I didn’t look to see if others were moved in the same way. Could it be the enormity of the subject matter struck a nerve, the same as it did when I was child? Maybe it was the simple fact that I could only spend a finite amount of time stepping back into the past and into the embodiment of one of my favorite stories.

I left the theater with a ticket stub, a program and a vivid memory. I had adhered to the rules and didn’t even try to sneak a picture. There was no last-minute grab for a souvenir at the stand. I was content, actually, more than content. It was a bit of an epiphany. Upon the end of the production, I walked out with an experience and I didn’t want anything more.  This revelation won’t leave me, much as the impact of reading To Kill a Mockingbird all those years ago. The words printed on the pages of the book are tangible but its effect is where the importance lies. Tom Robinson was unjustly found guilty, Boo Radley had come out, and I will continue to climb into someone’s skin and walk around in it to try to understand their perspective.

Airing Dirty Laundry

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With a smile on his face, my father would often proclaim that God only made two perfect people and one was crucified. He, obviously, was the second one. I have further added to this statement. I have said that I accepted the mantle of my father as he passed decades ago but the joke is on me. The apple might not fall far from the tree but it doesn’t come as a big surprise that I can’t claim perfection.

Although the themes I share by way of my blogs aspire to living a good life and being the person God intended me to be, I am still very much a work in progress. Recently, I have been focused on preparing for some upcoming surgery. I want my home to be neat and organized for several reasons. I will need to be able to maneuver during my recovery without any surplus items in my way. I also want my home to be orderly in the case of having visitors who might come offering assistance. If you are able to read between the lines you will see that maybe tidiness has not one of my strong suits lately. Honestly, I have grappled with two major shortcomings when it comes to housework and I can’t tell you why they exist or what might have caused them.

I will own up to dragging my feet when it comes to emptying the dishwasher. I didn’t always have a dishwasher throughout my adult life. When I washed all my dishes by hand they were put away once they air dried. To this day, items that are hand washed find their way back into the cupboard much quicker than those in the dishwasher. What is the difference between clean dishes on the counter top and those in the dishwasher? Out of sight, out of mind? One day I hope to learn how this aversion was created and know how to overcome it. Until then, the dishwasher will be emptied but under no circumstance would I receive a medal for breaking any records to get it done.

Another household task that has never held any interest for me is finishing the laundry. Translated: I don’t enjoy folding and putting clothes away. The clothes I wear are clean and if I see they possess wrinkles I don’t delay in using my steamer. I enjoy being able to go to my closet or drawers and choose an outfit but somewhere there is a disconnect. Again, I don’t know why this is so firmly planted in me but it’s far time that I address it. My dryer must have known I was going to own up to my shortcoming and has decided to give me reason not to worry with it this weekend. There is no need to fold and put clothes away when the dryer has stopped working and everything has remained wet!

As you must have surmised by this point I have owned up to my quirks surrounding some of my tasks at home. I took a deep breath and decided to come clean and share this with you. I am at the point that I must take action. I have the good fortune to have a friend that has come to my assistance and will ensure my home is clean, neat, and tidy prior to my surgery. She has been an answer to prayer, one that I didn’t realize I was uttering. There have been times that I simply felt overwhelmed due to fatigue and often a lack of time. There would not be any happy ending to this saga if I didn’t allow my humility to come to the forefront and accept help.

I have decided that it is important to show my authentic self. That was the foundation that I determined this blog would be built upon. Due to my independent nature I have long struggled with accepting assistance. I have not only opened the door to this aid but I have been able to swallow my pride. I am relieved that I didn’t choke on it as it went down and it has not been difficult to be gracious. I know that when it is time for my life review I won’t be judged by my housekeeping duties but rather my acceptance of the gifts that have come my way. I am hoping though, that I do get a few extra points for living in a home that is not screaming for attention.

Pandemic Scar

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I don’t believe there is anyone whose life hadn’t been touched by the pandemic in some way. There could have been subtle changes and inconveniences or a major upheavals, like severe illness or death. Without much warning or choice, we were collectively thrown into that reality. Although steps were enacted to prevent infection and lessons were learned, I feel the general public has been ready to sweep all of that under the rug and get on with life. I have moved on as well but there has been a loss left in the wake. It appears that when the tide went out it took my previous views with it.

I consider myself fortunate to exist within several social circles. I can claim friends that are former classmates, some that I have acquired through the work force and others have been met through mutual friends and other organizations. When out and about I appear to be quite the extrovert but what is equally true is that I can enjoy solitude along with the best of introverts. When the decision had to be made about how to handle exposure to COVID, I had to use my best judgement with the input of my doctors. It was strongly suggested that if I was to contract the illness the odds of survival were stacked against me. That was all I needed to hear in order to tip the scales. For the following year I worked remotely.

There was a trade-off, working from home didn’t tempt illness, but social interaction was no longer a part of my daily life. There didn’t seem to be much preparation taken on my part. I remember years ago, while with Red Cross Emergency Services, we would meet and plan for such an event. We discussed how to safely provide food delivery and how to handle a surplus of those who had succumbed to the illness by utilizing ice rinks for morgues. All those discussions came back to me in swift succession. Faced with it in reality found me poorly prepared emotionally, yet moving toward isolation at lightning speed. I would soon live my life with my view to the outside world through the glass of my storm door.

Those who know me are aware of my health challenges. I’ve not known anyone to be critical but rather understanding and compassionate. During that year my friends were extremely helpful and respectful of my choice of isolation. I was not milking the situation but rather holding myself to a rigid environment to keep any infection at bay. In hindsight, it is hard to comprehend the apprehension I felt about opening myself up to any potential exposure. I was adjusting to my self-imposed quarantine when a friend came to visit and I didn’t invite her inside. She told me that I was making too big a deal of the situation. At no point during this time could I be called a hypocrite. If I was not going to work or allowing any other social exposure, I was not going to invite anyone inside my home. She left and with her went a long time friendship.

I have thought about how this loss came to be and why it still exists. There had been overtures from this individual to talk and I didn’t find it difficult to be gracious and engaging but I have never made a point to initiate contact myself. I’m not one to usually hold a grudge and normally take the stance of live and let live. Yet on the heels of the pandemic, I find I view life differently. I have come to identify certain aspects that I might not have paid much heed to originally. I now realize that I do take my illness seriously. For years I have had a somewhat cavalier attitude toward health but now I no longer approach it so casually. I also recognize what a precious commodity time is and that it shouldn’t be squandered. I clearly can see the importance of who I choose to spend my time with and how I choose to spend it. Possibly the rest of my thought would be I don’t care to have others sit in judgement of me, nor I of them. In sharing what I have come to believe, I acknowledge that every day is a gift. I have no desire to address the Almighty and advise him that I would like to return it. There have been times that I felt that the gift I was presented didn’t fit perfectly but I have since grown into it. Now that if fits well, this is what I will continue to model.

The Greatest Generation

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An elderly man was pushing his shopping cart through the check out and I didn’t realize that I was blocking his exit. His white hair was neatly trimmed and combed into place. I noticed that although it was spring, he was wearing a flannel shirt. It looked as if the tags had recently been removed as it appeared new. Work pants completed his outfit. His cart contained two boxes of Cheerios and a bag. He politely let me know that he was trying to move around me and I stepped to the side. With a smile I asked him if he had a license to operate his shopping cart.

What I thought was a humorous passing comment opened a conversation that I didn’t anticipate. Not knowing if he misunderstood my remark, he chose to tell me that he was 99 years old and has been able to maintain his driver’s license. I didn’t get a sense that he said it in a condescending way but rather with understated pride. I could see that he was someone that didn’t take his independence for granted.

Although I have played our conversation over in my head several times, I am still unable to remember how he introduced the fact that he was a veteran of WWII. He was an infantry soldier and it has left a mark on him that is evident to this day. Ironically, he was soft spoken, yet his words suggested that during those years he experienced hell on earth. He spoke of the heat and the bugs and how collectively it had played havoc on their health. There was no relief at night as they slept on the ground and the morning dampness only added to the damage of their skin. However harsh the environment might have been, it played only a small part of what they contended with regularly. His battalion saw heavy fighting and heavy losses. With pride he shared that there was a monument erected as a result of their service.

If he shared the particular information identifying his battalion or the actual location where he fought, I don’t recall. I do feel I heard what was important. Here was a man who selflessly put his life on the line for what he believed. I had been given the perception that he questions why he was able to survive when so many others didn’t. He has done more than survive as he anticipates celebrating his 100th birthday by the end of summer. He has had many years to reflect upon his life and what his purpose might have been as he made his way on this journey. After our conversation came to an end he smiled and said he was going home to read his Bible.

I don’t know who this man is and I am certain I will never see him again. I know nothing of him other than what he chose to share. I have no name to identify him and no way to congratulate him on his anticipated 100th birthday. He could say the same of me. Yet the universe felt it was necessary for our paths to cross. An elderly man was able to share a part of his life that was traumatic yet deemed necessary. Although I was a receptive audience, I look at myself and wonder what the purpose might have been.

It might be natural to think of the Greatest Generation during this Memorial Day weekend. How many of that population never had the opportunity to grow old? They experienced the Depression and made it through to the other side. They did their part in the sky, on land and sea. For those not serving, they kept the home fires burning with ration books in hand. They raised families where many of their offspring let their hair grow and questioned the necessity of war. Yet this resilient group of people continued to move forward. Every day their numbers dwindle and their lives full of service and sacrifice go with them.

I felt like I was given a gift to have a window into this stranger’s life. By accepting this gift I feel I must pay it forward. I chose to make payment by honoring this individual, those like him, and most importantly, those who gave their lives. This blog doesn’t scratch the surface of recompense for their sacrifice but it comes with a profound sincerity.  

Circle of Life

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There are times in life we witness something so magnificent that it blindsides us. It could be a matter of timing or possibly sheer luck. It feels miraculous to be at the right time and place to become a spectator to something that has the potential to take your breath away. That is how I felt when I recently witnessed a bald eagle in flight.

Driving through a suburban neighborhood usually doesn’t offer the most scenic backdrop. Something might catch your eye on the order of landscaping or a real estate sign but usually those trips are uneventful. When I witnessed a bald eagle cross my path I was astonished. I instantly found myself reaching for my phone but stopped when I realized that I needed to leave it in my purse and focus on the spectacle before me. The eagle had recently taken flight as it came from the left and was just above the height of my car. It was high enough to clear my path but low enough that I could see the bird in all its stunning glory. When its flight brought it directly above me, it took a ninety degree turn and momentarily I was following its path. Then as quickly as it made its first turn, it did it once again and flew off to the right. It was overwhelming and I found my heart was beating wildly in my chest and then I realized that the eagle held a rabbit in its talons. I winced and tears came to my eyes.

I watched the eagle continue to fly with the rabbit silhouetted against a beautiful blue sky. There didn’t seem to be a struggle coming from the rabbit and it appeared to hang there, so still. I am not so naïve that I don’t have command of the laws of nature and the reality of the food chain. An eagle with its commanding presence needs nutrition and it was merely doing what was needed to survive. I am not a vegetarian and it might appear hypocritical that it tugged at my heart strings to see the rabbit carried off to become a meal. Truthfully, I did wonder if the rabbit was a mother whose rabbit kits would be left behind, defenseless. Was the rabbit taken when out playing with its litter mates? Maybe it seems foolish to place human characteristics on the vulnerable rabbit but I can’t be honest about my experience without sharing my thoughts.

Upon reflection I realized I witnessed the Circle of Life. Pardon me, Elton, as I expand on your song’s lyrics. If we are fortunate enough to rack up decades of living, I would hope it would be matched with the realization that everyday our role may change but we are still offered the chance to do more than just survive. I can look back at the times that I felt the strength of the eagle coursing through my veins, a feeling of being invincible. In direct contrast there were times that I felt as victimized as the rabbit. There doesn’t seem to be a way to appreciate the goodness without experiencing the challenges. I would hope that appreciating the positive aspects tip the scale when comparing them to the tests and trials. Mostly my wish is that when we are presented with the role of the rabbit, we can fly with the eagle knowing that we knew our purpose and our life would reflect how we sought to meet it.

Trifecta

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I love bargains. It has been a necessity over the years that I maintain a frugal lifestyle. Notice I didn’t say cheap. It is so well ingrained in me that, even now, I accept the challenge of continually finding that deal.  One Saturday morning I found myself headed for the store’s check out with my arms full and a coupon in hand. I managed to snag 2 pairs of slacks, a pair of lounge pants, a sweater and a package of briefs all for the grand total of $37.00. I was ecstatic and the cashier shared my joy. The typical small talk ensued and I was struck by his accent. It had a melodic quality to it. Internally I questioned myself whether it would be appropriate to ask him where he called home. I have a friend from Sierra Leone and she too has that same melodic accent. I decided to ask but prefaced it with a disclaimer that I didn’t want to offend him. There was no offense taken and he cheerfully told me that he was from Ghana. Instantly I understood why his speech caught my attention as Sierra Leone and Ghana are both located in West Africa. Now that I have supplied you with today’s geography lesson I will finish by sharing that the cashier was more than happy to reveal his heritage. I would go so far to say that maybe he found it uplifting that someone took notice in a positive light and inquired. My smile stayed with me through the exit of the store and my amble across the parking lot. I reveled in the fact that happiness could be evoked by showing interest in a total stranger.

Completing my errands I stopped at a gas station to fill the tank. Something caught my eye during this mundane task. Across from the pumps, along the wall of the convenience store, a young woman was rifling through a trash bin. I initially thought that she might have thrown something away by accident. She started with the bin directly across from me and one by one she continued along the building, digging through the trash, until she was out of sight. I recalled the first time I observed this type of activity. I was a teenager on a trip to New York City. From my lofty perch, several floors above the street, my hotel window allowed me to witness an event that was forever committed to memory. I watched as an individual desperately scavenged through the trash looking for something to sustain him. I felt both distressed and helpless as I witnessed his plight. Watching this woman evoked the same feelings. I thought it would have been appropriate to offer her assistance but I hesitated too long as I continued to fill my tank. Then she was gone and I determined I had missed my opportunity.

I ask you not to judge as I confess I left the gas station to head to a drive thru across the street. It was late afternoon and I decided to pick something up to hold me over until I reached home. I am hearing impaired and there are times I struggle to understand what is being said through the speakers. I was appreciative that the clerk was not only articulate but his voice had a tonality to it that actually made him sound like he was happy to take my order. When I reached the window there was a young man wearing a headset. I inquired if he was the one that had taken my order and indeed he was. I complimented him on his speech and told him that his manager would do well to keep him on the front lines. I’ve never worked in fast food and don’t know if taking virtual orders is something to strive for but the clerk smiled and thanked me. Again, it was an opportunity to reach out to another human being and share a positive thought. With a smile lingering on my lips I drove toward the exit. Before I left the lot, I spotted the young woman from the gas station.

Now, once again, I had the opportunity to reach out to her. I took a moment or two to fumble through my wallet and pull out some bills. It would have been an amount sufficient to purchase a meal. She was lounging on the grass, sipping a drink that I am sure I saw her remove from the trash. I pulled the car up close to her and reaching out through the open window I offered her the money. She refused to take it. My heart sunk and I felt my entire body become tense. Did I offend her? She wasn’t asking for anything and maybe in my quest for the perfect trifecta of human interaction it had been more of an insult rather than the aid I was hoping to offer. I drove off with a sinking feeling that I caused more harm than good. The feeling lingered and I didn’t understand why it wasn’t easy to let it go.

Throughout the remainder of the weekend I replayed that scenario in my head. Why did I find it so distressing? I will admit that I created a story in my mind about the woman. It might have been close to the truth or miles away. One thought did creep through my mind and when it settled in the forefront I found it disturbing. What if I was upset, that by her refusal of help, she actually ruined my trifecta of perfect positive human interaction? That would be a harsh reality to accept and I sincerely hope that is not the case, that my actions would be so shallow. I will store the event with many others in an internal file called “Experience”. What I take with me is beautifully summed up in a post I found online: Do everything with a good heart, expecting nothing in return, and you will never be disappointed. Let’s move forward, striving to have positive interactions with one another and not ruin them by our own imperfection or misguided thoughts of recompense.

Ivy

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It is sad to see an empty home, especially one that has stood on its foundation for decades. The vacant porch no longer hears the creaking of a rocker or the tinkling of ice in a glass of sweet tea. The living room is silent, conversation and music no longer heard between its walls. The kitchen is devoid of memorable aromas. The bedrooms, once the keeper of dreams, lay vacant. A home that once was a safe haven for a family is now unoccupied and may only have deterioration in its future.

I notice empty houses and wonder who once called it home. I am curious about its past and wonder what the future might hold. I am not the only one. Mother Nature has a way of reaching out to a lonely old house. She will often send out tendrils of ivy, in a possible attempt to offer misguided comfort. I can almost hear the whisper of the ivy as it slowly caresses a wall. It offers a greeting and upon no response invites more of its legions to join. Soon there is a blanket of ivy offering to help shelter the house and help keep its secret of abandonment. The house falls victim to the whims of Mother Nature as there is no one there to offer any resistance.

Although there are examples of well-tended ivy that enhances the appearance of a home it can also be detrimental to the surface. It can find its way into cracks and crevices and expand those joints, opening and inviting rot. Painted walls can become discolored and stucco can find that it is no match for the adhesion of ivy.  Something so natural, that happens so gradually, can become lovely when carefully cultivated yet damaging when its growth has no guidance.

I look in the mirror every morning to perform the obligatory check on hair and clothes. It is nothing more than a passing glance. I believe it is time to look a little longer and a little harder to see what appears in the reflection. What type of ivy is being cultivated?  Have I been successful in producing a healthy, vibrant crop that enhances the gifts I was blessed with from birth or am I letting the ivy run rampant? Is the growth acting as a mask, trying to hide something much like the ivy on an empty house? The good news is that there is always a season of growth. It is never too late to correct the direction of the ivy. It is not always easy, but cutting it off at the root or working diligently to change the path, a healthier harvest can be produced. I’m committed to checking its growth. Will you join me?

Time to Harvest

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One of my favorite memories has always been my brothers and I sitting around after a holiday meal, trading barbs. The bad puns would continue followed by laughter that sounded very similar from one sibling to another. It has been coined Blackstock humor. A longtime friend reminded me that I have used laughter as a response to much of life. That might have been a dangerous ploy to use with nuns but I managed to survive. It was upon this foundation that I created my first blog: My Punch Line (mypunchline.wordpress.com). It seemed appropriate to find the humor in life’s challenges. Now, upon retrospect, it doesn’t seem entirely suitable. There are challenges that life sends your way that need more thought and fortitude than laughter.

Life has blessed me with the best it has to offer: my son, my family who remains close, friends, travel and professional settings that have allowed me to leave my mark. Challenges and sorrow are not unknown to me: divorce, unemployment, health issues and those that I love that have made the transition to eternity. Ultimately I would like to think there is balance. The mountains and valleys are juxtaposed and simultaneously visible, no matter what my circumstance may be at the time. Whatever course I travel, it is rich in experience.

Life is certainly a mixed bag. I could offer a multitude of clichés that may or may not be proven. Is it true that you reap what you sow or is it a wives’ tale to keep you in line? We have all witnessed forces that deter the greatest laid plans. That brings me to the concept of this blog: Harvesting Life. Are you gathering what has been created or are you merely gazing upon it and seeing its completion but not collecting it or using it for its intended purpose? I recognize that there are seasons that the crop is substandard or even rotten. Those are the days one has to decide if the crop will be left to fester or cleared and replanted. Harvesting is work. It takes determination and strength. Substitute life for harvest and recognize it too takes determination and strength.

For the longest time I held a cynical view of life, stating we come into this world alone and we leave the same way. I’m now rethinking that and viewing it in a much more positive light. My mother carried me for 9 months before giving me life. A medical team was there to ensure that my journey began in a safe and healthy setting. As a matter of fact my father, who was career Navy, made the 300 mile trip by bus in a blizzard to meet me. No, I didn’t come into this world alone. I have no idea what my last moments on this earth might be but for now I will live and live fully. I’m holding space for you. Will you join me, figuratively standing shoulder to shoulder, and begin the process of harvesting life?