“Animals have a much better attitude to life and death than we do. They know when their time has come. We are the ones that suffer when they pass, but it’s a healing kind of grief that enables us to deal with other griefs that are not so easy to grab hold of.”
Emmylou Harris
I have been home, recovering from surgery, for two months. While recuperating, I realized that life has continued and my lack of participation has not stopped the march of time. I missed the end of the summer season. The farm stands that offered corn, watermelon and cantaloupes now are full of pumpkins and squash. The lush green canopy of trees have become swirling red, yellow and orange leaves, providing a colorful carpet upon the ground. There have even been changes in my personal life. Prior to returning to work I decided it was time for a new hair style. I am now revisiting my short and curly look. There is one more obvious change in my life; for the first time in over thirty five years, I have no cat underfoot.
I don’t plan on making this a memorial to Scout, but I do want to share a bit about her. When I purchased my home eighteen years ago, she turned up in my yard. Whenever I was outside she would be there, bouncing and jumping around. For being such a tiny kitten she was spending her time with the big cats as part of a feral colony. I was not looking for another cat as I already had two residing with me. I reconsidered when thinking about the age of one, who was nineteen at the time. I thought for sure I would lose her sometime in the near future and rescuing Scout would allow me to return to life with two cats again. My elderly cat lived to see twenty two. For several years I was the crazy cat lady with three cats.
Scout spent years unapologetically continuing to show her feral roots. She was often referred to as the invisible cat as she would make herself scarce if I had visitors. During her life with me she shared space with a total of three other different cats and she was left when it was time for each of them to cross the Rainbow Bridge. For the last two years of her life, she was my “one and only” and she easily adapted to life without competition for food and affection. She finally came out of her shell and acknowledged that she was comfortable with receiving attention from my guests. In the past two months, as I recuperated, she had been my constant companion. I noticed her weight loss but attributed it to the fact that she had reached the age of eighteen and time was taking its toll.
I think that there is something to human psychology and spending time together that has you overlook gradual changes. Those who have not seen someone for a period of time can readily pick up on them. Scout continued to lose weight and yet her appetite increased. I didn’t initially notice as she maintained her normal routine. She would wake me each morning and would talk to me as she led me into the kitchen. She was affectionate as ever and I would pet her, listen to her purr but I could feel her bones under her skin. Her coat remained shiny and silky. A vet visit confirmed that her organs were well but she had developed a mass. I knew that a tough decision lay ahead of me. I resented the fact that I had to return to work. If I remained home I could monitor her and not feel like I was cutting her life short.
I finally came to the conclusion that I was denying the true state of her health and wasn’t doing her any favors by not taking the responsible steps. I continued to vacillate until the final moments. Once she was gone I realized that I had a sense of relief. She loved me unconditionally and trusted me. For years she knew she would be fed and the litter box would be clean. She knew she would be safe, warm and loved. This was the final step in our relationship. The change I dreaded has happened and I go on. There is positive side, I realize that the loss of Scout allows me to offer a safe haven to another homeless cat in the future. I also recognize there is a greater lesson. Sometimes the changes we dread the most, propel us to a new environment filled with opportunity and unexpected rewards and goodness. The loss of a loved one creates a figurative void in our hearts. I have come to understand that grief can expand your heart to a point that it feels like it will burst. It feels as if it has been stretched, creating an even larger void. When the time is right, there is a possibility that we can be blessed by something else that will fill that void. It won’t be the same, nor should it. As we continue to live and breathe, our hearts are still beating and capable of love. It’s up to us to be open to it.
I have been home, recovering from surgery, for two months. While recuperating, I realized that life has continued and my lack of participation has not stopped the march of time. I missed the end of the summer season. The farm stands that offered corn, watermelon and cantaloupes now are full of pumpkins and squash. The lush green canopy of trees have become swirling red, yellow and orange leaves, providing a colorful carpet upon the ground. There have even been changes in my personal life. Prior to returning to work I decided it was time for a new hair style. I am now revisiting my short and curly look. There is one more obvious change in my life; for the first time in over thirty five years, I have no cat underfoot.
I don’t plan on making this a memorial to Scout, but I do want to share a bit about her. When I purchased my home eighteen years ago, she turned up in my yard. Whenever I was outside she would be there, bouncing and jumping around. For being such a tiny kitten she was spending her time with the big cats as part of a feral colony. I was not looking for another cat as I already had two residing with me. I reconsidered when thinking about the age of one, who was nineteen at the time. I thought for sure I would lose her sometime in the near future and rescuing Scout would allow me to return to life with two cats again. My elderly cat lived to see twenty two. For several years I was the crazy cat lady with three cats.
Scout spent years unapologetically continuing to show her feral roots. She was often referred to as the invisible cat as she would make herself scarce if I had visitors. During her life with me she shared space with a total of three other different cats and she was left when it was time for each of them to cross the Rainbow Bridge. For the last two years of her life, she was my “one and only” and she easily adapted to life without competition for food and affection. She finally came out of her shell and acknowledged that she was comfortable with receiving attention from my guests. In the past two months, as I recuperated, she had been my constant companion. I noticed her weight loss but attributed it to the fact that she had reached the age of eighteen and time was taking its toll.
I think that there is something to human psychology and spending time together that has you overlook gradual changes. Those who have not seen someone for a period of time can readily pick up on them. Scout continued to lose weight and her appetite increased. I didn’t initially notice as she maintained her normal routine. She would wake me each morning and would talk to me as she led me into the kitchen. She was affectionate as ever and I would pet her, listen to her purr but I could feel her bones under her skin. Her coat remained shiny and silky. A vet visit confirmed that her organs were well but she had developed a mass. I knew that a tough decision lay ahead of me. I resented the fact that I had to return to work. If I remained home I could monitor her and not feel like I was cutting her life short.
I finally came to the conclusion that I was denying the true state of her health and wasn’t doing her any favors by not taking the responsible steps. I continued to vacillate until the final moments. Once she was gone I realized that I had a sense of relief. She loved me unconditionally and trusted me. For years she knew she would be fed and the litter box would be clean. She knew she would be safe, warm and loved. This was the final step in our relationship. The change I dreaded has happened and I go on. There is positive side, I realize that the loss of Scout allows me to offer a safe haven to another homeless cat in the future. I also recognize there is a greater lesson. Sometimes the changes we dread the most, propel us to a new environment filled with opportunity and unexpected rewards and goodness. The loss of a loved one creates a figurative void in our hearts. I have come to understand that grief can expand your heart to a point that it feels like it will burst. It feels as if it has been stretched, creating an even larger void. When the time is right, there is a possibility that we can be blessed by something else that will fill that void. It won’t be the same, nor should it. As we continue to live and breathe, our hearts are still beating and capable of love. It’s up to us to be open to it.
Trees provide pencils, paper and oxygen. Growing up I remember the smell of fresh lumber in the house as my father always had something under construction. During my childhood Christmases, the aroma of some type of evergreen would permeate the house. I say “some type” as I am not an expert on trees. As a young girl I enjoyed watching Here Comes the Brides. The show’s concept was built upon the trials and tribulations experienced by the single women that were brought out to Seattle to accompany the lonely lumberjacks. I didn’t learn much about the lumber business by watching because, like everyone else, I had a crush on Bobby Sherman, one of the lumberjack brothers. Later, as an adolescent, I was an avid fan of the Waltons. Their family business had them operate a saw mill. I vaguely remember them harvesting the lumber strategically and being cautious not to strip the mountain. That little gem might have caught my attention as the concept of commemorating Earth Day was taking off. To celebrate its inception, President Nixon planted a tree on the White House lawn. If I haven’t lost you yet, you may have noticed that my knowledge of trees is enough to complete one paragraph.
Fast forward to present day. Surprisingly the lumber business has frequently come to mind. This time it has nothing to do with a television show but rather my place of work. I cross the mountain each day to find myself often staring at the edges of cut trees, piled high on a flatbed truck, as I wait for the light to turn green. There have also been unfortunate delays occasionally, as a truck is unable to complete a turn onto the narrow streets. Traffic is held up until the truck can inch its way to freedom. This current experience has expanded what has been my very shallow interest where lumber is concerned.
At some point, in school, I am sure we covered trees and their internal rings. I was not a big fan of Science but I do recall the concept of each ring signified a year in the life of the tree. It’s ironic that piece of knowledge has come back to me as I am presented with actual examples on a regular basis. During a lengthy wait behind one of these trucks, I took the time to notice that the size, color and thickness of the rings would vary from tree to tree. Nature is the catalyst or culprit behind these variances. If a tree was exposed to harsh outside elements, record of it would show in the rings. Fire and drought would leave its mark. The age and history of these trees would have remained hidden, under their bark, if they hadn’t met an early demise due to the handiwork of a saw.
I think we, the human race, can compare our lives to those of trees. Our exterior can hide the history of our growth and what we have encountered. There might have been times when we experienced drought. Maybe we felt like our lives were devoid of something: love and companionship, a decent wage or living situation, or the focus needed to select a better path. Possibly we were scorched or singed by living a little too carefree or pursuing a passion that was destined to go up in smoke. If we are fortunate, we live our lives without constant challenges. Just as a tree adds its rings, time goes by and we age, adding learned lessons and wisdom with each passing year. No one knows, as it could all remain hidden like the trees. If our experience is one that allows us to continue to rack up the rings, I would suggest we follow the example set by trees. Reach for the sky. Continue to focus on what is above and always look upward, constantly striving to become stronger each year. When the time comes to count your rings I pray they are immeasurable and unique.
“Life doesn’t get easier or more forgiving, we get stronger and more resilient.”
Steve Maraboli
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.
“Having a simplified, uncluttered home is a form of self-care.”
emma scheib
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.
We are all familiar with the time and thought that goes into selecting the perfect gift for someone. The selection could be the consequence of knowing them so well or maybe it is the result of a conversation that never left your memory. The satisfaction of giving could be equal to the delight of the recipient. To witness the joy in one’s eye or the smile that lights up their entire face is a reward in itself. What if that moment is only fleeting? What if you never see them wear the outfit or never witness the item displayed in their home? I wonder if God feels that way when we don’t incorporate his gifts into our lives.
I imagine God patting each infant on their head and sharing with them the main gift he is bestowing upon them as they prepare for their transition to a mortal existence. To some he generously offers teaching and the ability to enlighten children or inventing creations that will be immeasurably helpful to mankind. Some might be given the opportunity to continue to add to the beauty of the earth as a stonemason or landscaper. Others could add beauty through artistic endeavors: sculptor, photographer, musician and poet. This generosity doesn’t stop at talent but also has a combination of personality traits that could allow one to be compassionate, empathetic, kind and generous. God would know the appropriate talent and trait for each earthbound soul. I imagine he smiles, satisfied, as each one of his creations begins their passage through life, supplied with gifts, talents and traits.
I also believe that no one who is given the breath of life gets off free of charge. There are challenges interspersed along the way. I have learned that they too are blessings. They present us with the opportunity to look at the source of our creation and ask for help. I am certain that we don’t stand alone. When we were sent on our journey in life, God didn’t treat us like the candy on the conveyer belt in the I Love Lucy episode. No matter how swiftly life and its events seem to move, he hasn’t let one piece escape him. It’s okay if we have a complaint as customer service is always open. I don’t feel I am being irreverent but rather, because of my gifts, I have been able to maintain humor in light of challenges experienced.
Sometimes gifts are uncovered quickly, others take a while to develop and some might require a lifetime before they are integrated into someone’s existence. Not all talents are necessarily destined to be a professional calling. They can be a passion that sparks your imagination and brings delight. No matter how those abilities are presented, sabotage and a lack of confidence can be an individual’s worse enemies. Their pull can be so strong at times. It may be cliché but true, each day presents us with another opportunity to try again. There is only one expiration date on the goods we have been given. I don’t know about you, but when I reach my expiration date, I want to know I haven’t left any of my gifts unwrapped.
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.
Harvesting Life 