THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH

THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH


So there I was, driving home from Albuquerque, having seen Melissa, my daughter and 
only child, off at the airport. As she headed back to Michigan, I wept, knowing how much I would miss her. Otherwise, all seemed normal as I returned to the Santa Fe home to which I had moved three years ago. That was a major journey when I chose to move in with the man I love. It was a good decision and following major adjustments, I was settling into a rich and love-filled life with Robert.


The following day I wondered why I needed to grab hold of the furniture as I moved through the house. Yes, I am 73 years old and certainly not in great physical condition. I would much rather read or talk with a friend than exercise. Yet this felt much different. By the end of the day I mentioned it to Robert, who took note, but didn’t seem concerned. However, when the next morning the clumsiness continued, he gently suggested I call the doctor. I called. No appointments  were available till late afternoon. “OK. I’ll be there,” I said with more than a little trepidation. 

Immediately upon hearing my story, the doctor sent us to the emergency room at Christus St. Vincent hospital and before I could settle into the waiting room, I was whisked off in a wheel chair. Deposited in what passes for a room in ER, I began a very long journey indeed. I had had a stroke! 

The next days are a blur. I was taken here; I was taken there. Chest x-rays, a CT scan, a cardiac ultrasound, a coratid artery ultrasound; finally an arterial CT scan. Hours passed and eventually I took up residence in a semi-private hospital room. A bedside commode was my toilet, that being as far from bed as I was allowed to travel. My left hand looked like a claw, the fingers curled up and unable to move. Hospital food came on schedule. My minister came and prayed with me. I couldn’t pray. 

The one constant was Robert. If he wasn’t there beside me, I knew where he’d gone and when he would return. He notified my daughter, my sister, and several close friends that I had suffered a ‘small, but serious” stroke.
 
How can I do this, I thought? I have no control. I am being “done to” and all I can do is float along. As when I went into labor with Melissa, I desperately wanted to turn back. But the only way out is through, one of my favorite spiritual teachers used to say. 

In three days I was admitted to the hospital’s in-patient rehab unit, where I would reside for two weeks, two weeks that felt like two years...in a prison. Yes, a nice prison with kind and capable staff, but a prison nonetheless. 

I would emerge from that prison a different person, one who not only had to regain the use of her left side, but her self-confidence, her identity, and her faith. 

Six months gone, I know not where.  No writing here, for sure.  So easy to ignore it, resist it, forget it.   

Today I came alive to it once more.  I met a new person, someone who is needy, longing, confused, lonely, desiring to change the life they've lived.  And suddenly, I heard myself saying things I'd almost forgotten, about how God desires our freedom, about how everything we do and are, as we connect deeply with God, is about Love.

And so again today I write.  How often I do it doesn't really matter.  What matters is that I be willing, willing to be present to someone, willing to give generously to someone, willing to care though my heart aches, willing to keep hope alive even when all seems hopeless.

I give thanks for this reminder of God's Presence in and around me!  

May you have a new revelation today!

Don't forget to breathe and laugh.  
Thanks for checking in.

    

Starting again

As I begin this "new beginning", I've decided to re-read old posts and share a few.  This is the first one I wrote in the fall of 2008.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Welcome!

Welcome to "Prayer, Play and Politics"! Other words come to mind: paradox, pontificate, percolate, pet peeves, punctuation, purpose...I expect this blog to contain examples of all of the above and more. Since this is my first posting, I can't say where it will go, but I hope a few folks will check it out from time to time and give me some feedback. I'm happy for you to share it with others in your life as you see fit.

Having been involved in matters of the Spirit for most of my life, though not always "within the box", I've decided to share some of the thoughts, perhaps wisdom, of my 65 years, as befits a modern-day crone!

I've learned a lot from animals, including the three who currently share my home: Tessa, the little dog; Nellie, the sleek black cat, and Willie, a young, large tiger cat and the only male in the house. Nellie preceded the other two and has had to adjust. She and Willie, who used to compete and fight, are now allies in the struggle for use of my home, against an 11# dog, who in 3 months of residence, has kept both cats in the basement most of the time. The cats have claws; they are larger than she is; and there are two of them. Still, when Tessa lunges ferociously to the head of the stairs, they run for dear life.

Sometimes we are afraid of people and things which, in fact, have very little power over us. Only in our heads do they loom large--that person who might break into the house or rape you in the night or act in some manner you see as inappropriate or get some of your share of the goodies. The fear of those persons (or groups, or religions, or government systems) is often an illusion, which we perpetuate by our decisions, attitudes, life style, or loud barking. Funny thing! Tessa doesn't have the claws!

Until next time, thanks for reading. Breathe, listen, look, participate and love!

How long has it been?  Almost two years!!  I hadn't posted here for so long I couldn't even remember the blog's name clearly and had to Google myself!

Why resurrect it now?  It's time to say what I think and feel, if not for you out there, at least for myself and my family.  Time to express my deep concerns, as well as my fervent hope for the future.  Time to be creative, a little bit humorous, share more spiritually.

Granted, you have so much to read online, especially with Facebook and other social media of which I know nothing, you probably aren't thirsting for more "wisdom".  

Yet I sense a deep inner nudge.  So after long resistance, I am willing to see if there is any new wine in this old wineskin.  That is, after all, what we are called to do, is it not?  To be willing?  Who knows how able, but at least willing to allow the Spirit to do something, anything, that might be what only I can offer, that might be blessing to someone somewhere.  When I'm gone, when you're gone, there will never be another like you or me. I am increasingly aware that I definitely WILL be gone one day. I'm learning to accept that and I best offer what I can while I can, for better or worse.

I re-designed the blog before I started this writing. The font I chose?  Unkempt.  For some reason, I really liked the sound of that and it looked nice, too.  If I ever find I have forgotten how to be unkempt, I'll change it.

That's enough for a new beginning.  I trust there will be more.

Don't forget to laugh, love and listen!