Happy December to all TSJ Peeps!
Today I am reflective. So beware!
My heart is hanging exposed on the tree (symbolically of course!) as I remember Decembers past.
This month marks the memory of Tom’s strong exclamation of “Oh!“ as he entered heavenly joy and peace.
Gone was his pain and ended was his earthly suffering due to cancer and the heartaches that come with it. A perfect and mysterious Peace entered the room at that moment. We bathed in it in a hushed, reverent stillness for a few moments.
And that short but profound bubbled bath of Peace pointed me in the direction of reflection about life and began deepening my levels of compassion for all of our human journey. . . for all the in-between moments, hours, days and years from birth to beyond.
It left an indelible message on my heart to pause often and remember where we came from and where we are going to.
In a way, when we experience the “Peace that passes our understanding” – no matter how quickly it moves through us – we at least catch a glimpse of who we are as mortals and Whose we are as Loved and cared for children of the Creator who shepherds us on our shared journey to earth and back Home.
Any of you who have also lost loved ones or are at the bedside of a beloved even now as they prepare to leave the temporary home of their body, are likely filled with many memories and feelings of sadness too. I am reading about it a lot on Face Book. We humans are in it together. We are interconnected.
All we have to do is listen to the news or talk with someone nearby before we brush against the sleeve of someone’s sadness..
Solomon wants me to tell you my McDonalds story …
So yesterday in McDonalds I spent time with a woman (Roberta) and her attentive husband (Robert) whom I met there about two years ago. They are part of my “salt of the earth” friends who gather for coffee, laugher, gossip and grumbling about the state of the world. You know – a group of “regulars” whose commonality is being human and retired.
As with all humankind, the regulars are still heavily engaged in the in- between moments of our life journey. . . between birth and death. But as an aging group, it is often clear that our stories reveal we are in the evening season of life. There are lots of “remember when” stories told as if we are around a campfire, throwing extra logs on the fire to keep the warmth and our lives going.
Some in our group are widowed, some are dedicated to caring for an ill spouse, and some are very much alone otherwise. Some are still working part time. Some are fighting cancer. All are talking about aches and pains, swollen joints, endless doctor visits and concerns about children and grandchildren.
Roberta can now barely make it. She and Robert come once a week. I pop in occasionally. Yesterday I felt nudged to go visit my McDonalds friends and I was glad I followed the nudge.
When the others had left I remained with this couple. It was like looking in a mirror of a year ago. Reflected back in the drawn lines of their faces I saw sadness and pain and the same look of determination on both husband and wife to make every moment count as they close in on her quickly shortening stay here. Her cancer is completely taking over. She was on her way to a radiation treatment for pain management. They talked openly. And wept together. As Tom was most worried about me, she is most worried about him. And visa versa.
When you see people passing by you anywhere remember you do not know their story. Though often untold we all feel the effects of each other’s journey.
In complete contrast . . .
Later back in my apartment building, I saw my newest “friends” (ages five and seven). Brimming with life, talking about Santa’s elves, filled with curiosity, and chatter as their kind mom (a pediatrician) listens and guides them, I was equally looking in the mirror. I once was the little girl and I once was the young mom.
Our lives are intertwined even though we often fail to realize it.
Life is filled with ages and stages. And with each new stage our own brains are under construction and reconstruction. And that describes where I am.
It has been a year of letting go, taking risks, learning and experiencing the joys and lessons in selling our homestead, moving to an apartment, building a new house and mindfully reconstructing my own dreams and visions.
I am filled with wonder. I am also curious and hopeful about what there is yet to learn, to share, to explore and discover. I am studying some works on brain science, on life coaching and on mindfulness to upgrade my own way of understanding how our minds and hearts work. I too want to walk with more courage, compassion and wisdom into the future.
The human journey is one toward wholeness. Thank you for joining me.
All is well in today’s pastures. 🙂 (Just a little muddy.)
Margie
