We have a sailor in our future!

Today is one of those days. Two days ago it was 60 degrees- I was not ready to break out the shorts, but I definitely had a t-shirt on with no sweatshirt to wear over it. Today we have 12 of the 18 inches that we are due, and the world is silent except for the ssshhh of an occasional car, the flutter of wings as the birds circle the feeders like planes over Logan Airport. Occassionally, we hear the growl of the snow plow who comes to clear off the end of our road with extra care because it is well known that the curve and the angle of the roadway, makes it extremely easy to flip a car over if one is not careful. The Smiths have gone out there with jackets and raincoats, sneaker and boots, most often manning flashlights to figure out 1) where the wreck is, down the embankment, in our neighbors yard, and 2) whether or not the passengers have survived a brush with death. Cars do not look good when they have flipped over 2 or 10 times. Anyway Spring is supposed to make her appearance on Sunday again, in time for the solar eclipse. The line of totality is not far from our home, I want to adventure a little further north but my spouse thinks Maine will have one of its few traffic jams on the 8th. Did I tell you he hates traffic jams? In truth we can see it from home, the totality figure will be about 98% or so, but there is a place called Quills’ Hill up near Rangeley that is absolutely in the middle of nowhere. I think Dave is afraid it will be jammed packed with people and it will ruin it’s magic for us.

Like the snow that falls in Spring, I am late writing about our handsome grandson Ethan. For most of his life Ethan has lived around the corner from us. He stayed with us on occasion. got off the bus every day at our driveway while he Mom worked, and we were the emergency contact, something we were happy to do. We had our first introduction to IEP’s an education plan designed to help the student grow and become a happy, productive, gangly kid. I cried the first time the teacher wanted him to be referred to the Emotional Support classes. She took my hand and showed me an art project Ethan had did that was so advanced that they had never seen anything like it. He did an entry for a local car dealership and the judges were sure he had adult help doing his project. We were so happy when Covid came to call that Ethan was now mainstreamed into school and needed next to no assistance with classes or conflicts.

He moved to Arizona when he was in the middle of his junior year, a Covid year at that. Essentially, he lived in AZ nearly 10 months before he could go to school and meet classmates., not helpful to a kid like Ethan. Remote learning was not this boy’s friend, it was not that the learning was hard, it was hard to maintain and attitude toward excelling, and it meant that he, just like thousands of other kids, missed out on school activities, which build social development. The traditional hall marks and rights-of-passage for the Class of ’23 were lost, never to be retrieved. The day after graduation Ethan boarded a plane with his grandparents to return to Maine, where he attempted to renew friendships, just at a time when kids were leaving to break out on their own. We offered Ethan a chance to live with us and figure out adulting rules. It was not easy at first: we had some house rules he did not like (if you are going to be out really late or all night, send Grammy a text or a phone message) and please pick up your stuff so the room does not smell like a gym locker.

We moved on to more difficult challenges: community college, training programs or full-time work. Instead he worked part-time jobs, just enough to pay his car insurance and to buy old beaters which he enjoyed messing with. After 15 months we were still struggling with the idea of full-time work, keeping a room free of pizza boxes and remembering to bring home a gallon of milk once and a while. On the other hand he did bring some exotic food from the store- and while I did not eat any, he would look up recipes to try. He also learned sushi left for three or four days in the fridge will end up in the trash.

He told us all along he was interested in going into the service. He gathered important papers and told us he was visiting the local Navy recruiter. I think he had talked to an Army and AirForce recruiter as well, but Ethan has unbelievably flat feet. The Navy, sent him to an orthopedist and was not dismayed at the information. One day in October he walked through the house and said, “see you in 15 weeks, I have a ride to the recruiting office”. He had just gotten a loan to buy a used car and had a cat he adopted and we had no idea if he made arrangements for either one while he was gone. I did make him stop and wait while I collected a hug. I just could not let him go without that hug. For the next few weeks, we held our breath to see how he was adjusting. We got one letter with about 8 sentences: standard fare for someone in basic training. This was not my first rodeo. We tried to make peace with his cat something Moby would not consider until Ethan was clearly gone.

We heard little at first, but then the call came: Ethan was in the VA hospital in Chicago in intensive care. He had thrown himself into the physical fitness program for recruits and then on the third day he could not get up. His arm and back muscles, hurt and he could not even pick up a shoe. He went to sick bay, then urgent care where they do blood tests and such. When he first went in, he felt like the Corpsman did not believe him, instead thinking perhaps he was dogging it. They asked for a urine sample and took blood samples. His urine sample was close to black, and the blood showed he had an exceedingly high amount of protein in his blood-thousands higher (42K) than was required for admission (5K). The Corpsman returned and told Ethan to sit in a chair, and not to move, they were waiting for an ambulance. His body, having no carbs, sugars or fat to call upon began to eat up his muscles. I had never heard of rhabdomyolysis, but I quickly became informed about it and followed his treatment at the VA. Constant IVs would flush out his system and restore electrolytes and stop dehydration. They did an electrocardiogram to make sure the heart muscles were ok, given the history of HCM in our family. The constant IVs cleaned out his kidneys which improved greatly with good food, and he began to produce normal colored urine again. Turned out he was at the greatest risk of ruining his kidneys. A master chief came to visit him and asked him not once, but twice, if he wanted to stay in the Navy. He answered he intended to get better and return to be with other recruits and mastering basic training skills. By the fourth or fifth day he said he looked like the Michelin man, and they backed down on the IVs a bit and was sent back to light duty for a few days and then he rotated into a new “ship” and continued his basic training. Another episode of rhabdo and he would be sent home with a medical discharge.

We kept track from a distance and through his mom we learned he was progressing and now had a tentative date for graduation: January 3rd. We began to get little notes, he said he was surprised by how much he missed us (LOL) but his throat would thicken when he asked about Moby. We had a great celebration when we found he passed his last test and traded in his recruit hat for a handsome Navy ball cap. He was now a sailor! We prepared to travel to the Great Lakes New Years Day to see him graduate. He had received his blue uniform with the white dixie cup hat.

On graduation day his mother, step-father, grandmother and grandfather watch as he marched into a big hanger type building with ten or twelve other classes or “ships”. We were so proud of him and there was not a dry eye in the place. It was a stellar moment when we first laid our eyes on this tall, handsome, skinny sailor! At that moment we were just taking it all in and wondering how this tall handsome young man was once a sturdy little bulldozer of a toddler. I thought of all the IEP meetings we sat through, the social and emotional challenges that seem to be so hard on him in his elementary years, his stubborn willfulness, and yet here he is, a sailor, making his way through a challenging world, ready to take on learning a new trade, and traveling to new places half a world away on behalf of his country.

The only sad moment was much later when he was on liberty. He asked us about Moby and we told him that just before we left, Moby was suddenly very ill, I took him to a cat hospital where he went through a number of tests, and they sent me home with a guarded prognosis and medication. 32 hours later it was clear Moby wanted to go outside so he could die as cats often do. I took him back to the ER again, where it was determined that his body was shutting down and he needed to be euthanized to end his suffering. It was hard on Ethan, but I brought him an ink copy of his little paw, and a nice note from the ER staff expressing their condolences.

Ethan is currently still in Great Lakes, attending his A school where he will be taught how to be a gas turbine engine mechanic. He expects to be shipped out someplace overseas., most likely across the Pacific. He is planning on spending a little time with his Mom in AZ and with us and his sister in Maine, taking care of a little business before he gets shipped out. I hope he will go with me to church one Sunday in his uniform, as well as to his uncle Allan’s in Union ME. Allan, now 80, was in the Navy till mid-60’s when he was retired due to a catastrophic head wound.

Our family has long been a military minded group. Ethan’s two great grandfathers served in the Army and Navy in WW2, his grandfather and two great uncles served in the Army and the Coast Guard in either Vietnam or Vietnam era and his mother, father and uncle served in the Army, and his other uncle served in the Air Force during desert storm era. I most look forward to the after dinner talk when they get telling stories about boot camp. It never fails to get them laughing to the point of tears, and now Ethan will be able to join in with stories of his own.

As for me, I am still wondering how that little bulldozer of a toddler grew up to be such a chick magnet! I will do my best to send him off to the Pacific with no tears.

Anchors Aweigh

For the last 14 months, Dave and I have shared our home with our two oldest grandchildren. They lived with us temporarily when they were very small, and their mom was doing an internship at mid-coast hospital. It is very different to share your home with “almost adult” grandchildren. Last year, we flew to Sierra Vista, AZ to see our first grandson graduate from high school. Our daughter and son-in-law moved to AZ just before Thanksgiving in his junior year. He was not able to say goodbye to classmates, teachers or anyone else (even his grandparents) for fear he would bring covid home and expose us. We felt that we were in our 70’s and could make a decision about who we wanted to see, but our daughter did not view it as we did. finished the junior year of high school remotely. Ethan finally was able to meet his fellow graduates in his senior year.

It was no surprise that Ethan wanted to return to Maine to his native Maine. We saw our job as moving him down the road of adulting, hoping to avoid serious pitfalls yet let him make his own mistakes so he could learn from them. We discovered this boy loves cars of all types and all conditions. I think in 14 months he bought, traded or other obtained 5 cars and one motorcycle. He had to relearn the art of driving on snow and black ice. It was not easy, and he had one car, and we have one pick up that were sacrificed to that learning curve. The important thing was that cars can be fixed, but there are consequences, most importantly he survived. He explored going to school for automotive training. He also hoped that he and some friends would get together and rent an apartment. Apartment living since covid has changed dramatically. Most apartments cost more to rent than a regular mortgage payment., and even if you can afford it, landlords are not anxious to rent to four teenage boys, with questionable credit and pets. Quite a few of his friends realized this given that most of his friends still lived with their parents.

Ethan got a job at a supermarket, but full-time jobs are not available- supermarkets hire kids that will work 35 hours a week, and that provided Ethan with some walking around cash, some car buying cash and the flexibility of staying up half the night playing games on his PlayStation with his friends (some in Maine and some in Arizona). This was not setting well with us, as he was supposed to pay a little something to rent and there was always a car problem that needed cash. We had several discussions about finding full time work (there was a wealth of opportunities), and so he would talk about going to school and doing just enough to pacify us. He also paid a visit to a recruiter!

When he was in AZ he told me he could not join because he had seriously flat feet (and he is not kidding!) However, he met with a Navy recruiter who sent to an orthopedist, who passed him and felt the flatness of his feet were not sufficient to prevent service. He had a couple other issues to straighten out and after doing all of his required medical appointments, Ethan followed in the footsteps of his great-grandfathers, his grandfather, his mother, his father, and his uncles and who served honorably during WW2, Vietnam, and Operation Enduring Freedom.

So one fall afternoon he showed up ready to go to Great Lakes Training Center for basic training and most likely his AIT, his mother got one call to say he was there and give her his address. We all knew the drill and did not expect to hear from him for a while. The third day of his training, Ethan was sent to sick bay or whatever it is called in the Navy. They sent him on and the next doctor did blood work and had him pee in a cup. His bloodwork made the nurse or corpsman look askance at Ethan, told him to sit in a chair and not to do anything while they waited for an ambulance to take him to James Lovell Hospital, where he was diagnosed with rhabdomyolysis. Apparently doing PT used up all the sugar in his blood, and all the fat (of which he had 1% body fat) and then it started to break down the muscles to keep his body functioning. He kidneys were compromised as one might expect when one’s urine sample is brownish black. Turns out that when the muscles tear apart, (which explained his pain) heightened serum creatine kinase levels are present in the blood. When reading about this we saw all kinds of warning signs regarding the seriousness of this medical condition. A level of 5,000 is standard for hospitalization. Ethan’s SCK level was 42,000. While hospitalized he was visited by a Senior Chief, he was asked if he wanted to remain in the Navy. Ethan said yes. He has been discharged and was recycled to the group behind him. We are hoping that the hospital discharged him with recommendations of both diet, hydration and safe exercise levels.

We are holding our breath hoping he does not get a medical discharge. We know that the structure with do him a world of good and his head seems to be in a good place. Now if he could just put on a little weight, it would allow his family to breathe again.

Meanwhile we keep writing letters and I often find myself humming the tune of Eternal Father, Strong to Save. while we wait to see how it is going.

Somehow, Somewhere, Some Way, Some Day

No matter how down to earth you are, no matter how practical, or pragmatic you are, at some point in your life, you will enter into a relationship, sign up for a project, take a job, or cast your ballot for a candidate and you will do so with hope and excitement for the future. Hope that this time it will work out, that this time you can really make a difference or your action will help others to “right the ship”.

Managing expectations and taking a step out in faith, is not an easy task. By our very nature we often think “this time will be different”. We take on new relationships and hope that we have found the love of a lifetime. We start a new position seeing great potential. We move to a new place, excited with new possibilities. Even if we go into it with our eyes wide open (or so we think), we can find ourselves disappointed or worse, heartbroken, when it turns out badly. Sometimes we can look back at our younger selves and realize that while we thought we were practical we were not. Looking back we can see red flags that were waving so high, and we sailed right along never looking up to see them. Then we can beat ourselves up for not recognizing them or for ignoring them, we can long to have a “do over” or, if we are hurt badly enough, we promise ourselves “never again”. After a while, we can vow that if there is a next time we will do better in the expectations department. At least that is what I have told myself on more than one occasion.

Yesterday I was interviewed about a work situation which did not turn out well several years ago. It was for a doctoral project, and I volunteered to participate in a survey. It has been far enough in the rear view mirror that I can begin to talk about that very painful experience with a stranger and not feel that tremendous weight of loss. I was able to reflect on the process of being “called” to the position, the red flags that I recognized early on, and those that I missed, and how difficult it was to know when it was finally time to throw in the towel and call it quits. I am not a person who likes to call it quits. Being tenacious is a good quality, except when it is time to recognize that it is over. Like all relationships, when respect is eroded, the relationship begins to unravel. If there is no effort to clear the air, evaluate responsibilities and restore the relationship, eventually, there is no room for repair. Recognizing when to leave is not easy nor is it always easy to leave with integrity, especially when one or both parties are deeply hurt.

This year we saw a President who, over four years, continued to cross the line of respect. At every turn he disrespected others both personally and professionally. He disrespected the office of President; he disrespected the norms and customs by continuing to make money off of being in office and employing his children as “advisors”, when they had zero experience. His cabinet positions were for sale, awarded to big donors, again with zero experience. He disrespected the rule of law. He disrespected our allies and abdicated our position in global efforts; and finally in he disrespected the Constitution and the voice of 81 million Americans who finally said, “enough”, by promoting lie after lie about the election. There are many people who continue to believe his conspiracy theories. There are powerful billionaires who are funding the promotion of social media conspiracy theories and misinformation so that they can put people in office they can control. After the President lost his election, for the first time in over 200 years of a peaceful transfer of power, he was unable to exit with integrity. Instead he fomented an attempted coup, pardoning shysters for money, undermining the efforts of the new administration at every turn and then ran away, tail between his legs, to Florida.

Still, beaten and battered, the republic continues on. The inauguration took place despite the Covid pandemic and the need to have military presence to ensure safety. It took place with the scars of the January 6th insurrection evident. It took place amidst funerals for those who were killed. The President was inaugurated and went to work. I marvel at waking up each and every day and finding out that the President has not said or done anything to embarrass our country. That may be a pretty low expectation, but after the last four years, it is how I feel. I do not expect President Biden to do everything right, I hope he will do enough that we, as a country, will get stronger and perhaps find a way to counteract the tremendous power of money and disinformation. I know there will be some diehards who will cling to Trumpism forever, but I hope there will be people who will regain a perspective that is more based in reality so that one day we can agree on facts even though we may disagree on policies. I hope the country becomes more discerning and uses critical thinking skills. I hope we begin to teach civics and history again in schools and in adult education classes. I hope that a majority of Americans can truly say that progress is being made and they do not have to fear being black and driving down a road or being gay fear losing their job or their chance at adoption. I hope that children separated from their parents are reunited. I hope that Native Americans are treated with respect and the government honors promises to respect their land and their culture. I hope those who are struggling get a hand up, and are not made to feel shame because they need it. I hope we recognize the freedom of religion, of all religions, and not just Christianity, as much as I love Christ. Then, maybe we can regain our respect and trust, not just of our government, but of each other, of neighbors and communities.

I still hope and yes, I long, that somewhere, somehow, someway, someday life will be good again. I long for love to prevail over hate, distrust, jealousy and fear. I long for a day when we can treat one another with respect and know that we deserve to be treated with respect in return, and not be afraid to voice that. “Where there is love (and respect-my addition), there is courage, where there is courage, there is peace, where there is peace, there is God. And when you have God, you have everything.” author Louise Penny , A Fatal Grace

Somehow, somewhere, some way, some day.

In it for the long run…

Four years ago, I confess that I was in despair when I watched Trump get inaugurated. The day after the inauguration, I traveled down to DC for the Women’s March. I was amazed at the energy of the crowd, and to know that I was not alone in my worry did much to ease my mind. Five hundred thousand women, men and children marched that day, to give voice to our concerns about the future at the hands of a President who had, until that day, been a shyster real estate tycoon and a reality show celebrity.

Today, I cried as well, but the tears were tears of hope. Not because everything is miraculously better, it is not. I was born, but not yesterday and I realize just how deep the infection is into the soul of this wonderful country. These last four years have left our democracy with some very serious injuries. Injuries that will take time, resolve, and patience to heal. I am hopeful today because the calm, resolute, compassionate, dignified man who took the oath of office has reduced the temperature and the chaos of this country by his very presence and by his inauguration and the inauguration of our first woman Vice President. There is a meme on Facebook which shows Kamela Harris and then all the males that have preceded her. Colored squares surround the VP’s who were in office when 1) blacks were emancipated 2) women got to vote 3) when she would have been able to go to an integrated school 4) when women were able to have bank accounts, own property and businesses 5) when her biracial marriage would have been considered legal. We have indeed come a long way, but it has taken a very long time.

It was refreshing at the inauguration to see a man who did not talk about his accomplishments, who did not make the day all about him, but made it about us- all of us, working together to move our nation forward, step by step, towards the country we strive to be. A country strong enough to overcome a coup by the sitting President; a country that can pull enough people together to address a pandemic with a national plan; a country that values its national parks, that protects the sacred grounds of Native Americans who have been cheated time and time again. He spoke of a country that can pull together to deal with the economic crisis that goes with covid, and provide help to especially hard hit communities. A country who will again work for justice for all Americans, not just favored, wealthy, white communities, and favored, wealthy, white Americans. A country who will craft an immigration plan that will help those seeking asylum and provide our Dreamers with a pathway to citizenship. A country strong enough to celebrate our diversity. A country that will move heaven and earth to reunite over 600 children that were ripped from their parents arms and locked in cages. A country strong enough to join with our allies to address climate change and become again a willing partner in global concerns.

It is clear that this President and this Vice President are in it for the long run. There will be opposition, the ones who are fighting for the old world of “white is right”, will not give up easily, but with the help of an administration that it is going to give it their all, I believe we can right this ship. In the words of 22 year old Amanda Gorden, youth poet laureate, ” If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright”. As President Biden stated, quoting Abraham Lincoln, “my whole soul is in it”. Cannot ask more than that.

Insurrection at the Capitol

Yesterday, my husband intended to go to the store to get me some flowers and a card yesterday in preparation of my impending birthday, but I returned home from Grandparent duty with our youngest grandchild, to find him glued to the TV watching the insurrection at the Capitol building. I could not blame him. Neither of us could believe that people could be so disconnected from reality that they really thought Trump won the election, and hoped to stage a coup. The damage to the people’s house was substantial and the emotional damage was even more severe. Seeing men walking through the rotunda with Confederate flags and shirts supporting “Camp Auchwitz” was chilling. Attempted coups do not happen in America, that happens in other countries, usually impoverished ones. The fact that a sitting President gave a speech to fire up his base with marching orders to go to the Capitol and fight was horribly wrong. His promise that he would go with him (yeah…right), and the fact that the mob of domestic terrorists went ahead and did it, makes me wish we could prosecute him for 1) treason and sedition 2) declare the 25th amendment and hospitalize him till after 1.21.21, 3)permanently take away his Twitter and Facebook accounts for the next 6 years or until he dies whichever is first. Of course if he ends up in prison I am certain his social media presence will be limited.

I am also of the opinion that every one of the Republicans who have fed into his conspiracy theory lies should be removed from Congress, especially Senators Hawley (man with raised fist in the air) and Senator Cruz. Not far behind are Senators Mitch McConnell and Lindsey Graham. They fall in the too-little-too -late category. As I write this his cabinet and staff are leaving the ship like rats fleeing the Titanic.

As I enter the 8th decade of life, I never expected to see such a day as yesterday in our country. We have had arguments and disagreements- pretty strong ones over race, Vietnam, women’s rights etc., but I never thought it would ever come to this. How we will ever get back to one set of facts is beyond me. I woke up so hopeful when I heard that Georgia came through and sent not one but two Democratic senators to the Senate ensuring that Mitch becomes the Senate Minority leader for the first time in more than 13 years. It filled me with hope that we might be able to begin across the aisle negotiations, first in small things and then maybe in larger things. Once the rhetoric got turned down and our country had a cooling off period I really felt we might find more common ground at least between Democrats and regular Republicans if not the Trumpicans. I wonder what the Republican party will look like now. Was that shaking I felt yesterday afternoon a host of Republicans turning in their graves?

I am sad that other countries now look at us as if we were a Banana Republic where we used to be considered a fairly stable country. We were admired by many, and hated by a few. We have certainly instituted programs or worked behind the lines to advance what we thought was best (for us rather than for the country in question). We have at times been misguided and like an in-law stuck our nose into situations that were not our business. Not something we should be proud of, but something we should learn from and try not to repeat. To think we are now definitely diminished in the eyes of the world is sad.

2021 we are getting off to a rough start.

Thin places, part two….

My second “thin place” encounter did involve hearing not only Jesus’ voice but feeling him take my hand. It took place in early November of ’86. Again, it was very real, and although I was not aware of some events that would happen in the next two weeks, this event was dead on. It took a few years to share this with another person and even then more than a decade before I could trust to share it more casually. Now I am old and I do not care if people think I am touched in the head. I know what I experienced.

This encounter with the shifting veil happened shortly after my first real attempt to returning to college, after a 14 year hiatus. With my youngest in school, I was taking two classes, working part-time as a church secretary, and trying to learn how to juggle all of these things, and reduce the impact of these choices on my home life. I was using the College Level Examination Program to challenge courses, gaining credits at a fraction of their costs. Eventually I would challenge English composition, grammar and literature; American history I and II; and biology, I studied on my own and then take the tests.

One night, laying in bed, somewhere in a state between sleep and wakefulness, I heard the murmur of people talking. There were nurses walking back and forth and doctors as well. The room I was in was not my bedroom, it was all white and tiled and cold. I was lying on a gurney with an IV in my arm. It came to me that I was in pre-op and soon headed in to have surgery. My husband had accompanied me to the hospital but earlier in the day, I had sent my husband off to work, as I knew I would be anesthetized for many hours and there was no point in him sitting around, bored and irritated. My pastor promised a pre-surgery visit, but she called to say her car had broken down, and she would not make it in time before the surgery. She asked the staff to tell me I would be in her prayers. Suddenly, into this room, walked my neighbor in full hospital scrubs. He told me when he saw my name of the list of surgeries for the day, he asked to cover the pre-op, figuring a familiar face might help. It did. He left the room and said he would be right back.

All of a sudden I felt a hand slip into mine, and I knew it a heartbeat who it was. It was Jesus. How I knew I have no idea, and I never did see him, just heard his calm voice and felt that reassuring touch. I said,”Hiya God” (Talk about a lame and inappropriate greeting for the Holy One). But Jesus did not seem at all offended. He asked me how I was, and I knew He knew already. I just replied that I was so very tired, sick to the bone of the struggles we had been through these last dozen years, sick of making mistakes and feeling like I always came up short. I was tired of the worrying, the juggling, finding it was never enough. All the while, people were coming and going, checking my IV, bringing me a warm blanket and reassuring me that soon it would be time for the surgery. The conversation with Jesus was taking place sort of like those little bubbles in cartoons that sit over the heads of the characters, oblivious to the others in the room.

Still not seeing his face, Jesus said that I could hold His hand, that warm and reassuring hand, and go with Him, or I could let go, and stay in this world. At that point Jesus reassured me that either way (going with Him or staying on this earth), it would be okay. All I had to do was close my eyes and it would be over. I could continue to hold that hand until I did not need to anymore, or, I could open my eyes, let go, and life would go on. Then I said, “what about my children?” I immediately woke up, found myself in my own bed and wondered if I had made Jesus mad because I questioned his offer and did not blindly trust him. All I could think of was the long line of women who were courageous enough to faithfully respond to God. What a wimp I was.

I longed to talk about this with someone, but the opportunity did not present itself, much to my dismay. The following week I had an emergency visit with my gynecologist and I walked out of the office with a date for surgery in just a few days. It was the last thing I expected. It was just before Thanksgiving and I did not have time for surgery! As I entered the hospital on the day of my surgery, I discovered it would be delayed several hours. As it got closer to my husband’s start time at work, I encouraged him to go, assuring him I would be out of it until at least 9 or 10 that night. He left. I then got a call from my pastor who told me her car broke down on the mountain on her way to the hospital, and she would not get there in time. She offered her prayers for me and apologized profusely. I laid there on a gurney and was pushed into pre-op and I waited. There was my neighbor, who, seeing me on the schedule and offered to cover the pre-op so I would have a familiar face. Needless to say I was anxiously waiting for “the hand” to take mine. I closed my eyes, and wondered what I would decide if Jesus offered me the choice on that day. I was exhausted, my heart was heavy. The next time I opened my eyes, it was to complete darkness. I wondered where I was, then I heard a quiet call, ” Dr. So-so please page the nurses station”. My belly was heavily bandaged and I knew from my heavy limbs and foggy brain, that I was still filled with anesthesia, but I was here in the world.

Many years later, I was able to have that conversation with a trusted friend, who listened to my fear when I asked God, “what about my children?’ Here I was questioning God! He suggested maybe I missed the point- he immediately went back to Jesus’ assurance that either way, it would be all right. God knew I loved my children, that question would not have offended Him/ Her at all. The assurance was the key- either way, it would be all right.

It took me several years, and a couple more God wink encounters, before I came to terms with the changes that were happening. I wish I could say my encounters helped me move smoothly through some pretty heavy seas, but that would not be honest. I came to understand that sometimes those moments were meant for encouragement and occasionally for correction.

“Where there is love, there is courage, where there is courage, there is peace, where there is peace there is God. And when you have God, you have everything.” Louise Penny , A Fatal Grace

God is still speaking, here is to peace, when you find it, cherish it.

Time to hit Reset

Just when I believed, I couldn’t ever want for more, this ever changing world pushes me through another door. – Richard Marx

Lillian Daniels is a very talented pastor and writer. She has written several books and she writes for the Daily Devotional for the United Church of Christ. Every so often one of those devotionals hits a particular chord in my life and I just cannot read it and press delete- and so my folder with “save’s” grows ever longer.

The title of the recent devotional she wrote was Real Relationships Renegotiate. One of her premises is that real relationships are dynamic and ever changing. As much as we like things to stay the same, much as we think we have all we want, often we find ourselves pushed through another door. Change is an inevitable part of life, it is necessary, and yes, it will happen whether we want it to or not. Adapting to change is evidence of physical, mental and emotional health. Healthy relationships not only accept and accommodate change but they encourage it. Of course, in the course of life, we are not always as optimally healthy as we might think we are, and therein lies the rub.

It is true that when we are young we may form ideas about how our life will go. Those ideas are influenced by our family of origin, and our society at large. With the confidence that only comes from youth, we map out our future, certain that it will develop, like a polaroid picture (ok I am dating myself here) into something close to what we thought the future would hold. It is fair to say that that old joke often shared in church is true: when we make plans, God laughs!

What I envision my future to be like when I was twenty something, was vastly different from the life I experienced at 40, never mind 50,60 or 70. Careers changed- full-time stay at home, mental health case manager, and then ordained ministry, meant changing roles at home. While I have been married 52 years that statement does not begin to touch on the ups and downs and the challenges we have faced and survived. Children, health, both physical and mental, factored into decisions made over a period of 40 years. Our relationships with those we love changed- Dave and I renegotiated a far better partnership, I became a caregiver and “parent” of my parents as they aged and their health declined which in turn changed my relationship with my siblings. Our relationship with our grown children changed as they entered their adult life and parenthood, with all the decisions they would then be responsible for, and, of course, there was the grand reward: becoming grandparents- 4x over.

Together, we are watching our children as they have entered times of renegotiation in their lives. Ben and Trish have moved back to PA and are struggling to find jobs in this covid world. Our Kate and her husband Bryn are seeing the day when they will be empty nesters and are planning a move to AZ, again, juggling Ethan’s remote learning for 11th grade, looking for jobs in AZ and coordinating the sale of their house and finding a place out there. We have enjoyed our three kids and their families being in Maine these past eighteen years, but Dave and I have told them all that Maine was our dream but not necessarily theirs, so they need to find out where their “feet feel good” as my Dad used to say. Meanwhile we have Josh, Monica and Will still here along with newly fledged Gracie. It is our hope that this old farmhouse will continue to be “home base” for us – a place the grandkids can count on, for as long as we are able. Nearly twenty years and Dave and I still marvel at our joy at living here, it is the most beautiful place, and we love the simplicity and the slow pace of life most of all. We feel blessed that the ocean, the mountains and the lakes are all an easy drive and we have a beautiful river just around the corner.

When we rigidly reject renegotiation we lock ourselves and others into old dreams that no longer fit, like the pair of jeans that are two inches too short or the sweater that way too tight for comfort. Renegotiation allows us to shed our too small shell and grow into a new one. When we learn to reg

Real Relationships Renegotiate
Lillian Daniel September 14, 2020 Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect. – Romans 12:2 (NRSV)