Apples and A Perfect Autumn Day

Knowing he and his wife had recently gone on an apple buying trip, last night I asked an older gentleman friend, "What is your favorite kind of apples?"

It threw me for just a minute when he answered, "pies!" Then, by the twinkle in his eye and my hubby's laugh, I knew our friend meant fried apple pies. He told hubby and I that they brought 20 home with them that day. We teased him about wondering if he'd bought enough and then how they might just go bad so he'd better eat 'em up fast. He laughed, whole-heartedly agreeing, ready to make another trip up to the north Georgia mountains when their apple stash was depleted.

Today was a perfect autumn day for our own apple outing. The sun was warm and the bright blue sky had a few puffy white clouds. We had the top down on our Mustang convertible for our hour and twenty minute drive up. It was a little past peak for the leaves but we still saw a good bit of orange, yellow and a hint of red sparsely sprinkled in.

After lunch, we went to an apple house and looked around. We tasted several different kinds of apples trying to decide which kind we wanted to bring home.

It didn't take us long to make our way to the pie counter and we bought two fried apple pies. Once outside, we didn't even wait til we got in the car, we just sat on a bench and enjoyed my new favorite kind of apples right there in the sunshine.

There was another apple house across the parking lot and we wanted to go to it too. While there we bought a gallon of apple cider, a peck of Red Delicious apples, an apple slushy (another mighty fine way to have apples!) and 8 more pies to bring home with us.

The drive home was beautiful and the sun was hitting the trees just right so we saw more brilliant color this time. As we got closer to home, Hubby and I laughed, delighted to realize that the trees around our neighborhood have a lot more color in them. Fall shall be dressed in her glorious colors for a little while longer around here.

Ahhhhh...it's good to be home after a pleasant afternoon on a perfect autumn day.

Gee, I just thought of something! I sure hope our pies don't spoil. Guess I'd better go eat one!

(sigh)

Gosh, I love fall!

Avocado Hair, Weeping and Blessed BirdSong

It's a rainy, chilly morning here. I'm still in my jammies, tucked up under my down comforter, surrounded by lit up, smiling pumpkins and my candle. Tuesdays are my "late" days, meaning I work from 1-4 instead of 10-3:30ish. I cherish these days to have jammie mornings. Today, with the rain, is an especially welcomed one.

I've been having some leaking/incontinence lately which is annoying and frustrating. I went to see my nurse practitioner on Thursday and my urologist yesterday.

Hmmmm..... I started to go into all of the things we did and said (short version - we're going to try fiddling with my meds first) and then realized that rather than use my energy and time up there, my heart needs me to set all that aside (for now) and speak for and to her instead.

So that is what I will do....
I will honor her.
I will honor my feelings.
I will honor my losses.

I welcome the presence and witness of my sisters and friends....

So deeper than annoying and frustrating, this leaking is sad for me.

Knowing my history and that my journey with bone cancer in my left hip started 32 years ago this month, it makes perfect sense that this would stir some old grief.

Knowing that this time last year I was in the midst of discovering the large, benign, uterine fibroid tumor that had to be removed along with "Her" (my uterus) and working thru how to proceed, it makes perfect sense that this would stir some grief.

On Sunday, hubby and I went to our 6 month old nephew, Dax's, baptism. Afterwards, we went to their house for lunch. While Brandon fed his son, I was playing peek a boo with Dax behind Brandon and we both enjoyed ourselves immensely.

When they were finished, I sat down with Dax and we had a good time playing. I was so touched watching him as he obviously wanted me close to him. He would sometimes figure out how to move/throw his chest so he could kinda come in closer to me. Sometimes he was able to move his head towards me and sometimes he'd reach his arms out for me.

(tears)

I would simply come in and hug him and then come back out, talking to and smiling at him the whole time. He'd been eating avocado with his hands and, one time, before I could catch him, he grabbed my hair with his avocado hands and I got tickled as I gently pulled my hair out of his pretty tight grip. There was a couple times he tried to put my hair in his mouth and he would make a big face - we all laughed and I said, "hairspray doesn't taste so good, does it Buddy?"




Maybe he was just after my dark, curly hair.

Maybe he just wanted his Aunt Debbie close to him (my favorite reason).

Perhaps it was both.

Whatever it was, he seemed to really like it when I had my face next to his in a gentle hug and it touched my heart. I enjoyed every last minute of it too.

I also think tho...that it stirs some grief in me.

(tears)

I think, more than I realize, he is a *very* vivid reminder ... as is my leaky bladder ... once again, that I will never have a child of my own. Last year's hysterectomy on November 18 sealed that deal. I know that, if I choose, I can always adopt and I know I'd be a great mom.

Today's grief is about not having that chance to birth, hold and play with a precious child of my own .... ever.

We actually found out Dax was on his way (that his mama was pregnant) on the same trip to Florida when we discovered my uterine fibroid. So, it makes sense that his sweet presence, while certainly unintentional, would naturally stir some of this for me as well.

I'm so grateful for this place where I can just be ... right where I am ... still.

I was re-reading my tribute to "Her" (my uterus) recently and cried thru it ... again. I had sent an earlier version to some dear sister-friends and also gifted myself by taking the time to re-read thru all of their very kind and treasured words of support during that time. More tears were shed as I did so.

It occurred to me recently that this new leaking is another form of weeping ... just as it felt like my uterus was doing before she and I parted. "She" is no longer with me to weep and so my bladder weeps for and with me. It feels really sweet to me as my eyes and heart join in the weeping.

A little while ago, my dear Hubby was in here with me for a minute checking on me. I was surprised to hear a birdie sing in the rain and said so to him. He then noticed that as she sang, somebody answered her. I stopped to listen for a bit and sure enough, there are two birdies out there in the rain. She was/is not alone.

I smiled thru more tears as it is a very rich and welcome metaphor for me this morning of what it's like when we sing over our bones in safe company. There's always someone there who can hear us and sing back in blessed birdsong "You are not alone, Sister. I hear you and I love you."

(more tears)

I feel you and I hear you and I am grateful.

Thanks for listening,
Prairie Star
who is still trustin' in Grace
(Originally written on Tuesday, October 27, 2009)

Bladder Issues ... For the 50 millionth time

Ok, so *maybe* "50 million" is a bit of an exaggeration!

But it brings a welcomed smile.

Not sure what's up but incontinence has been added to the mix. While, gratefully, it's not all the time, it's happened enough that I have a fairly constant sense of hyper awareness. Even as I type I have my legs crossed pretty tight together so I won't accidentally leak...again.

It's not very comfortable

or fun

or effective.

I went to see our nurse practitioner yesterday. She is a kind person who listens well and this wasn't our first conversation about it. While we both wonder if it isn't hormonal, I'm going to see my urologist on Monday. She is another caring presence who trusts and encourages her patient's innate wisdom.

It makes sense to have me checked urologically. Plus, I will ask her if she knows of a gyn who is aware of how hormones can affect urethra's, which have one of the highest concentrations of estrogen receptors. From listening to her speak in the past, I know she is more knowledgeable about this than some gyns.

I will not be going back to the woman who did my hysterectomy a year ago. At first I thought that because she had named something really important for me ... that I, quite naturally, feel some post traumatic stress whenever I have something physical wrong with me ... that she would be a great long term companion on my journey.

It didn't take me too long to discover that wasn't the case. While a good surgeon, she just doesn't have the tolerance and, more importantly, the patience I *require.*

Plain and simple, there *will* be tears ... especially when I am feeling afraid and uncertain. I'm very clear that I need a doctor who is wise and able to be compassionate with her patients. I need someone who can be comfortable with me as I walk thru my feelings, including fear, shame and vulnerability.

Ahhhhh, now see...? Even here a little bit of that ol' "too big" slips in. Very old, worn out tapes in my head tell me that I "should" just grin and bear it.

Well, actually...? It's more that, deep down, I'm afraid that my needs are so big that I'll have to go on a very long ugly duckling search/handless maiden wander ... again! That I'm all alone in this ... again.

But, Prairie Star, is that really true?

No, Darlin', it's not.

Is it convenient? Nope.
Is it welcome? Nope.
Is it something I enjoy? Nope.
Am I alone? Nope.
Are there people around me who love me? Yes.
Can I walk thru this? Yes.
Do I want to? Not really.
Can I do it anyway? Yes.
Am I willing? Yes (mostly).

The good news is I already have a relationship with this doctor so I don't have to wait a long time for an appointment. She already has a feel for me and I have a feel for her. More than that, I trust her. I only have to wait until Monday morning.

I can do this.

In the meantime, I have an opportunity to look at how this might be a metaphor in my life. Is there something that I have been holding on too tightly too? Is there something that I am unintentionally leaking?

I'm in the bathroom a lot these days, can I make each visit a prayer and a reminder to, once again, trust in Grace?

Yes.

I am willing.
I believe, help my unbelief.
Amen

Sacred Weaving

"If old wounds are not healed before we take a mental approach to training the mind, the feeling monsters in the basement will forever be clawing on the cellar door, even as we smile and lean against the latch. This is repression of emotions, rather than the yoga of transforming the emotions. When people try the "spiritual bypass" route to accomplish emotional healing, it is generally both incomplete and unsatisfying. We cannot wish old feelings away nor do spiritual exercises for overcoming them until we have woven a healing story that transforms our previous life's experience and gives meaning to whatever pain we have endured."

Pocketful of Miracles
by Joan Borysenko
October 22

--*--*--*--*--*--*

This quote has special meaning for me this morning. Another wave of grief has arrived. I am grateful that I'm feeling more genuine sadness today than the guilt that comes from feeling "too big."

I grew up in a family who encouraged, demanded really, that I stuff my painful feelings because they were "too big." It took me a long time to realize that what was missing from that sentence was too big "for them."

Certainly, especially at first, I still forget the "for them" part from time to time. While it was very difficult and extremely painful then, today I know it was simply because they didn't know how to process their own big feelings much less mine.

I am very grateful for honoring reminders like the one above that my feelings are meant to be walked thru. It doesn't matter how big they are or how many times they come up. They just are...

I am meant to walk thru them each and every time...until my blessed healing story has been completely woven. It's a process that can take a very long time and patience is crucial, at least that's been my experience.

I am grateful that today I remember (mostly) that I don't have to do my sacred weaving in the company of those who don't (and simply can't) understand. I can weave in private or in the presence of a few trusted others who I know love me.

For now, I am taking a moment to enjoy sitting in my chair. The sunlight is dappled in the back yard, a few birds are chirping, there is a very gentle breeze on this chilly fall morning and my candle is lit. I *trust* that this, too, is an essential and necessary part of my healing.

And that for today?

It is enough.

Prairie Star
who is still trustin' in Grace

--

Too Big or Too Small?

I was talking to a very dear friend yesterday. She made an important observation and asked a very valuable question.

She gently reminded me that it wasn't that *I* was too big as a child, teen and young adult. It was that my parent's *parenting* was too small.

Next she asked me, "If Grace loves you and you trust that She watches out for you, why would you need to make trades to earn her love and attention?"

Then she tenderly invited me to simply receive Grace's gifts to me and to bask in them.

I am deeply grateful.

Honoring My Octobers

I've been struggling with feeling "too big" ... again.

As a saying I am all to familiar with from my youth, being "too big" is very similar to being "too big for my britches." It's about taking up way too much room and/or resources, especially emotionally. It's that feeling of needing and/or taking (way) more than what the folks around me (mostly my introverted Moma) were able to give and then being treated as selfish and demanding rather than being accepted and honored for simply needing what I needed.

October is a bittersweet month for me. I dearly love fall, the sunny, crisper days, the changing leaves, pumpkins, apple cider and homey, warm meals. Growing up, my family would take annual fall trips to the New Mexico mountains. Some of my fondest memories are from those trips.

Thirty-two years ago, I had my first hip surgery in October. Two months later we discovered that I had bone cancer and I was told that if we didn't start me on chemo right away, I wouldn't make it six months. That October was the beginning of a profound and life altering change in the path of my journey.

Last October I was in the midst of my process of letting "Her" (my uterus) go, having discovered a large, benign fibroid tumor that had invaded her.

The reality is, October brings a lot of feelings for me with her, both fond and sad ... period.

This past week, the grief arrived before I even realized it. Right behind her came a large wave of guilt for being too big.

--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*

“…ritual is meant to be repeated. We are not supposed to do it right the first time, and then be done with it. We are not supposed to do it better each year until we get it perfect. This year’s Easter does not have to be improved, more dramatic and moving than last year’s. The perfection is in the repetition, the sheer ordinariness, the intimate familiarity of a place known because we have visited it again and again, in so many different moments.

"Over the course of a lifetime there will be the sad Easter and the joyous Easter, the thoughtful Easter and even the boring Easter. This is not about progress, it is about circles, cycles, and seasons, and the way time moves, and things we must remember, because with ever-faster turnings of the wheel it can become easier to forget."

Pg 89-90
Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in our Busy Lives
By Wayne Muller

--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*

I first read this book several years ago with a book group and I've loved it ever since. Wayne has such a gentle, soothing voice that I cherish.

This fall, I'm reading the book again with the company of a different (and more trusted) book group. While I've always loved the first paragraph and remembered it, I didn't remember the second one. It has come to me at exactly the right time.

As I read thru it a week ago, it occurred to me that I could substitute "October" for "Easter." It was a very graced and Grace-filled moment.

It dawned on me (I had a spiritual awakening) that Easter isn’t something the church is going to stop commemorating just because folks are tired of hearing about it. It’s a big part of what makes the church who she is. Even more, it is *meant* to be remembered and honored.

Thru tears, I wondered if the same could be true for me. Certainly, my Octobers have shaped me and they are a big part of what has made me who I am. Heaven knows I *can't* forget them. As a very dear companion and guide once said to me, "it's like your anniversaries are burned in your soul."

Rather than feeling too big, my invitation is to find a way to mark my anniversaries in an honoring way because they are very real. The grief was here before I knew what it was about. I don't want to brace for them as I’ve done in the past. I want to simply acknowledge and honor them ... and me.

Besides, I feel much better when I simply allow them to be, wash over me and pass. Which they always, always do.

I am willing.
I am grateful.
I am trustin' in Grace.

Way to Long

Goodness!! Was my last post here *really* back in May?

Like, almost 6 months ago?

Guess so.

I had a good friend comment on my "Wonderings About Grace" post this morning and it was just what I needed.

This past week brought with it another visit to that "too big" place. I have been thinking I wanted to revisit my post on being too big but wasn't sure I'd remember which one it was. Her comment was on the exact one!

Ahhhh... Grace is still right here, gently nudging and loving me.

I am grateful.