Even in Our Sleep

Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until in our own despair , against our will comes wisdom through the awful grace of God. Aeschylus

Sleep is my welcome escape and yesterday was one of those days I retreated to it; two naps and an anticipated bedtime.But sleep does not always grant me the escape I desire.A few weeks ago Frank on Blue Bloods recited this Aeschylus quote. Oh how true I find this to be. I have nights where the pain shows up drop by drop somethimes in a flood that nearly overwhelms me. Last night was one such night. My dear friend Ruth who so lovingly attended to my early pain(water closet office, red cross slippers,and so much more) was in my dream administering her wisdom and compassion. Ruth walks her own grief path these days and I hold her in my heart this morning. I struggled a bit with the processing of my dream and considered not getting up. I have another entire thread for an entry about the not getting up , not returning from my wood road walks , never getting out of my morning bath but maybe I'll tackle that another day. I got up and in scrolling FB I came upon wisdom from another trusted and respected source; author, friend Sheree Fitch. She stated that  gratitude  saves us from despair.Despair, our own despair; a condition we all find ourselves and must  repeatedly pull ourselves out of.Against our will comes wisdom. So the snippet of wisdom I was given in last night's dream will add to the snippets  I've received in the past. Much of that wisdom is relearned daily through that awful but powerful grace of God. So my grateful heart takes in the sunshine, gazes at the budding trees and the beautiful yellow of my blossoming forsythia, marvels at this another day  

I'

ve been given, quiets the fear and sorrow of last night's pain and puts both feet firmly on the floor.

On the Periphery

 Heidi, Heather, Lisa, Jolene, Aaron, Emily,Kristen, Sean, Alanna, Tom, Joey,Greg,Jamie, John,  Joanne, Lillian,Dawn, Frank, Gina,Corrie, Joy, Peter. On this day of our loss we remember and circle the periphery of a deep and unfathomable pain knowing the depth of it is more than anyone can truly grasp.We love you and miss you Zac. And Paige got her bunnies.

Familiar Grief

 I wake this morning so thankful for the sunshine I see streaming through the window. I wake so thankful for the day ahead , a day I can stay home and a day I hope to write many new words. I woke from a dream that left me with the title of today's blog. In the dream I realized I had become familar with grief , used to a loss that was like a constant companion. In the dream I was told that Gladys was in a trailer in the parking lot of the nursing home where she lived her last couple of years. I was told I should be visiting her there and that she was alone and never saw anyone. I wondered why she was there and hadn't been allowed to stay in her room at the nursing home so she would have people around. In the same jumbled dream it became Zac in the trailer and I felt so guilty that I hadn't regularly gone to see him thinking if I had I might have been able to get him back home. Strange dream leaving me with the question of familiar grief. I have been thinking a lot in the last few days of the families who are approaching the first anniversary of the horrendous Nova Scotia shootings of last April. I can only imagine the pain and suffering the loved ones left behind have endured this past year. I hold each one in my prayers.I  can extract no profound  wisdom from my dream but I do understand how grief becomes a part of who we are and I still marvel at the fact we can stumble our way through it. No choice really except the choice to see the sunshine, allow joy to accompany sorrow and keep putting our feet on the floor each morning and carrying on. 

 

Just Like Food and Medicine

 It is a rather dreary Easter Monday. My morning has been slow and demands are low. I have provided room service to my two sleepover granddaughters, I've washed eggs, written in my journal of course and looked back at Easter last year and the year before. Regular morning things that make up so many of my days. It occured to me the other day on my wood road walk how predictable my walk regime is. I begin with petitions, prayers and requests of sorts that mirror the concerns of the day. I begin that lineup with thoughts of putting my oxygen mask on first, breathing and believing that I must be all right before I can do anything else.  I thought how repetitive my petitions are. I thought perhaps saying them over and over and going through the same motions every day might be undermining any belief I have in a higher power that hears my prayers. The words 'pray without ceasing' came to mind. I thought of young children asking for something and how it seems more effective if they ask over and over. Then I thought of food and how it is required daily  and medicine that is taken repeatedly until it is no longer necessary.So why not prayers and petitions and the very routine that feeds my soul day in and day out; waiting for answer to prayer , for respite, for a calm acceptance and for the deep assurance that whatever I am given strength and grace will accompany it. Several days ago my eyes were somehow cast on a  particular tree in the foreground of hundreds of trees . In the white oval  patch on the  trunk of that tree I saw my son's name.I do not know if it was carved there.Perhaps he himself took a  tool and  etched  his name  twenty some years ago, or someone else on this same walk stopped and  holding him in their heart scratched the letters of his name. Or maybe nature, time and the tree's natural growth split the bark in the exact configuration of the three letters spelling my oldest son's name. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that I came upon it excactly when I did and for me it was a gift , a connection and a place to  stop and ponder on my daily walks. And these wood road walks are as nuturing as food and as healing as medicine. 

 

The Perils of the Path

 Wood road walking is not for the faint of heart these days. It requires attention, caution and planning. It also requires a good pair of rubber boots and a trusty walking stick.One can not walk with her eyes gazing toward the sky and not take care for the challenges underfoot. The ground is slowly thawing, frost is creating deep holes and streams of water run and pool. Navigating is the key. Choosing a direction, predicting  a best case scenario, taking chances. Walking on a treacherous wood road is very much like living life. This week brought a devastating loss to a family very dear to me. This family has been intertwined with mine for many years. Many hours were spent together and we attempted to find our way through our son's childhood and teenage years together. Many laughs and long talks were shared. Years and life sent us off in different directions and we lost touch but always had the bond created over those  years. This week my friend Cindy died and her  family is reeling from the shock and the deep gulf of grief. No easy way through what they have been given. Strength and resilience will guide and direct them as they must forge ahead. Two precious granddaughters need to be cared for and nutured. Stories of their wonderful grandmother will be shared and they will see a family altered but not defeated by the terrible turn  life has taken. Last night in a jumble of dreams Zac showed up . He was sitting at a table in a room I entered in my mixed up dream and he rose to embrace me and tell me everything would be OK.This morning as I face another day I am so thankful for the tools we have , the boots and walking sticks, the loved ones living and dead that carry us along ,all the things that help get us over the  most difficult sections of this path called life.

 

First Budge Wilson

 It is Monday morning and here I am, happy, grateful ,with a full list and lots of motivation. My bath has been run, I have checked off three items on my Monday morning list and it is coming on to lunchtime. But first before I go any further I will stop and spend some time with Budge Wilson. Budge Wilson passed away  on Friday at age 93. What a treasure on this lovely spring day to sit with Budge and just listen. She talks about six long years of rejections and a teacher named Freda Pike being her motivator and whose words she held on to during rejection and doubt. She then moves on to family dsyfunction and I hang off her wise words. No perfect family. Problems with families when other factors enter the scene. No tidy resolutions. She regards the greatest compliment to her work is someone finding themselves in her books. 'Merciful in their judgements' being one of her writing goals. Oh Budge you will be missed and we are thankful for the body of work you have left behind. Time well spent as I attempt to deal with family , with writing, with  healing and

with living this life I  have been  blessed with.

Weekends , Time Change and Winning

We are a game playing family. It isn't many meals we have that we don't clear the table afterwards and ask which game we're playing. Sunday suppers continue but  have changed over the years and with Covid are reduced to our smaller family bubble. Meg, Cody and the girls have been with us since August , Jenna is now a part of our family circle and Alice joins us every week. On this another Monday morning I find myself reflecting , rallying and regrouping or at least trying to. I woke with today's title in my head. I had a busy night of dreaming that seemed to have me frantically trying to put someone's house in order. Cleaning , purging, rearranging a house that at one point seemd to be my mother in laws and another seemed to be Megan's and then mine.My house in order. Jenna laughed at me Friday as I paniced about the dirt and dog hair I could see billowing on the floor in the late afternoon sun. Taking up my broom as if it were a lifeline,  something  to hang on to to save my life, I swept and took back a smidge of control. Oh boy a therapist could have a field day with me.I have mentioned before how I say " Ok Everyone" out of the blue and my family makes great fun of that. But in writing those words my eyes well up and I don't find it quite as funny. Ok we are Ok, everyone is OK. I looked after the girls all weekend , I prepared and served a Sunday supper, I turned the clocks whichever way they needed to go, except for the one in the kitchen that seems to have a mind of it's own even with a new battery.And I won a couple of games this weekend. Funny how lately I have put the winners in my journal as if it matters at all or will matter in years to come who won Wizard on March 14th,2021.As if my journals will matter in years to come. What matters right now is that we fight the good fight. We use our Mondays to gird our strength  for our Sundays. We play our games and have our time together. We accept change and challenge and play the hand we're dealt. We win and lose with grace and humor.