A Few Photos From Christmas Eve 2009

Here are a few photos from Christmas Eve at my parents' house with Jim, Caroline, Phil, David, Gregg, Dad, Mom and me.

A Kind of Miracle

"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom." -Marcel Proust

Thank you, readers, for helping my soul to blossom.

With this message, I want to take you to one of the most peaceful places I've ever visited: the Abbey of Senanque.

This is a real, working abbey in the south of France. You may have seen photos of it before.

The monks who live there cultivate lavender. They also have a wonderful bookstore full of religious books.

 

Gregg and I visited there, years ago, out of season, when the lavender was not blooming. I've never forgotten it; I always wanted to return to see the lavender in full bloom. It is like being in a different world.

We went to Senanque last summer. As soon as we arrived, the excitement of returning to share it with David mingled with regret that Katie wasn't with us to experience this holy, peaceful place.

As I started to feel the sadness of missing her creeping over me, I looked to my left, and this is what I saw:

A butterfly lit upon one of the lavender bushes, as it was standing in full bloom in the evening sun. I have no question that this was God's way of allowing Katie to let me know that she was with us, in a way. Not the same as having her with us as a healthy, happy 14-year-old girl, but better than nothing.

The altar at St. Mary's Church, Antibes, France, 2009

On this Christmas Eve, as many of us are missing precious loved ones, may God again fill our hearts with an awareness of their presence and their love, somehow, in some way.

May we know that we are all living a brief part of eternity here, and that God is right now loving us, as He has showed us His love in countless ways. Christmas is one of those ways.

Detail of the altar.

God bless you, and Merry Christmas to you!

Edits, Guild News and A Christmas Tree

My parents were here for dinner tonight. My dad read the posting in which I wrote about the ferry, and he had comments to make about the photos I posted.

He wants me to tell you that, in addition to building the cabin, he built that log bulkhead himself.  He also wanted me to post a photo of their house as it is now (after the cabin was remodeled), so here it is:

That is not the bulkhead he built; it is a replacement, made of rock, instead of logs. They added a dock later. A bunch of us can be seen on the deck on the right side. He has a vegetable garden and flowers, of which he is very proud, as well.

Since you asked, the performance of Handel's "Messiah" was a fantastic experience for us. Before the concert, we enjoyed a wonderful dinner with Smileygirl and her husband at one of our favorite restaurants:  Cafe Campagne. Then we walked to Symphony Hall (a.k.a. Benaroya Hall), and took our seats near the back of the main level. The music and singing were sublime. SUBLIME. I thought, This must be what it's like when you are dying, and you awaken to find you are not dead, but crossing a threshhold to a new, perfectly beautiful reality. I hope I hear music like that when I'm crossing over. I love musicians, and am in awe of their dedication and artistry.

Unfortunately, there was a couple of WHISPERERS sitting behind us. They were seated a couple of rows behind us, and many seats to the left, but they were WHISPERING loud enough to disturb us.  Voices and lots of dramatic hand gestures were interrupting the singing and instumentals of one of the most sacred pieces of music I've ever heard. I looked at the usher; no response. I looked at the WHISPERERS; no response. I wondered what Jesus would do, since the concert was really about Him. I tried to forgive; I got angry; I re-focused on the message. I got angry again; I went back to the message. I think it was kind of funny, to be attempting to focus on Jesus and the message about his life, while being irritated beyond belief during the concert. 

Please, if you attend a concert, and feel an overwhelming need to talk in the middle of it, LEAVE the AUDITORIUM. Whatever you have to say can either wait, or should be said elsewhere. But none of you need to hear that from me; you would never do such a thing!

Since you've asked, here is what this year's tree looks like:

On Monday, I had the privilege of driving to meet a member of another Seattle Children's Hospital guild. Joanne generously donated her time and talent to make two quilts for Katie's Comforters Guild, and then drove half an hour from her home to meet me, and give them to me, so that I can donate them to the hospital. Here is Joanne with her beautiful quilts:

There is more good news coming about Katie's Comforters Guild; I will update you on the Guild's blogspot soon. Meanwhile, Happy Christmas Eve to everyone, and Merry Christmas Day! May your heart be filled with the peace and love of God, through the gift of Jesus to the world.

The Ferry (the Boat)

Yesterday, I picked up my parents at the Bainbridge Island ferry dock. They flew in from California, and walked on the boat in Seattle. They are home for the holidays. We had a nice dinner together at our house.

The ferry is such a familiar part of life for us that I rarely think about how it will sound to someone in the midwest. I've been riding the boat all of my life, literally. That's me, on the right, in the photo, with my brother and sister; the boats (and I) have changed a lot since then! My parents built a cabin on the island before I was born, where we used to spend our summers. They remodeled it about 20 years ago, sold their house in town, and now it's their main home.

This is the original cabin that they built, not the remodeled house.

When we talk about the ferry, we call it "the boat;" not a boat that we own, but the Washington State Ferry. Well, tax-wise, I guess we do own it, but I digress.

We "catch the boat," "run for the boat," "hop on the boat," and occasionally, "miss the boat." Tonight, we are going to catch the boat in our car, which is called "driving on."  "Are you going to walk across, or drive on?," we ask our guests from the city before they come, so we will know how to plan. If they are driving, we will add an hour to the departure time of their boat, in order to calculate their time of arrival; or we will leave our house at the time they get on the boat in the city, in order to be at the terminal to pick up walk-ons when they walk off.

Living with a ferry system means having ferry schedules close at hand - in your car, in your purse, on the refrigerator door, in your wallet - for easy reference, at all times. And to save money, it means buying a commuter pass every month. There are auto passes and passenger passes. Fares are collected both ways for autos, and only one way for walk-on and auto passengers. Are you still with me?

In summer, there is a fare surcharge (a rate hike), and if you are driving on, you can easily miss the boat (this is called "an overload,") and then you must wait in line, sometimes for hours. Missing the boat is not fun, unless you are creative and very patient. If you leave your car on the dock to go and have a latte, a beer or a snack nearby, you must return no later than 20 minutes before the next boat is scheduled to depart, or you may be left behind on the dock...an inconvenience and a big embarassment.

You wouldn't want to lock yourself out of your car in this situation. I once made the mistake of locking my car keys in the car on the ferry dock in Seattle. Fortunately, a very kind Washington State Trooper rescued them (and me), and didn't make me feel like any more of an idiot than I already felt.

We are driving on the boat today, to go to dinner with Smileygirl and Tom, before hearing "Handel's Messiah" performed by the Seattle Symphony and Chorale. I'm very excited to dress up, eat a lovely French meal (trout almondine, anyone?) and listen to the music with Gregg and David. This will be my first time hearing the "Messiah" in person.

Christmas Ships and Cats

Last night, the Christmas Ships went by our house. This is an annual event that we appreciate and love very much. It is a parade of private boats, sponsored by a local yacht club, with Christmas music playing; Santa is on one of the boats. You can sometimes hear him laughing, "HoHoHo!" across the water.

It was raining, and very dark, so I used the flash.

I took more photos without the flash.

David took pictures of Latte and Liger. Latte was in one of his favorite spots, under our dining table. He likes to rest his chin on the rung of a chair.

Liger is our resident "Cat in Sink."

The Christmas Ships sail again tonight. If you live nearby, I hope you take time to look for them. It's a lovely sight.

Incarnation & More GOOD NEWS

"When God gives of God’s self, one of two things happens: either flesh is inspirited or spirit is enfleshed. It is really very clear. I am somewhat amazed that more have not recognized this simple pattern: God’s will is incarnation. And against all of our godly expectations, it appears that for God, matter really matters. God, who is Spirit, chose to materialize! We call it the Christ Mystery.

"This Creator of ours is patiently determined to put matter and spirit together, almost as if the one were not complete without the other. This Lord of life seems to desire a perfect, but free unification between body and soul. So much so, in fact, that God appears to be willing to wait for the creatures to will and choose this unity themselves—or it does not fully happen. Our yes matters, just like Mary’s."  - Richard Rohr, Adapted from "Near Occasions of Grace," p.5

This is so important to me that I can't believe I haven't posted it before. I went back and looked in my archives, but I didn't find it, so you get to have it today; an Advent gift, from me to you.

Growing up as a Christian Scientist, I was taught a profound distrust of all matter and material evidence. Never mind that I have an artistic temperament, and that what I see is of vital importance to me; I was taught that "Spirit is the real and eternal; matter is the unreal and temporal." Temporal, yes, of course; but unreal? That implies that everything that I can learn with my senses is an illusion. And I spent many years of my life swimming upstream in this mind-set, trying to "translate things into thoughts," "see through matter," or "unsee" things that were unpleasant, like illness and death. It's a hard way to live.

The mind has to be very, very, very busy in this paradigm, in a state of constant alertness and questioning.  "Stand porter at the door of thought," we were taught as children. Like good little mental soldiers, we were to watch what we allowed into our thinking, lest it take root and turn into illness or another problem. So what happened to you was, in a way, your own fault, because you had to let it into your mind as a thought, before it could manifest as a thing.

One inconsistency (one of many) in this paradigm is that the physical healing of disease, through prayer alone, is considered as evidence of the truth of the religion's claims. But you have to accept the physical evidence of the healing, in place of the physical evidence of disease, in order to confirm the belief system. It's still physical evidence - matter - that you are believing. It's simply matter in a more pleasant, "harmonious" state. So that doesn't add up at all.

Anyway, from this bit of information about my former religion, you can see just how radical Richard Rohr's ideas would have been to me, when I first started reading him. And his writing simply cut through all of the old chatter, and was clearly, obviously, effortlessly true. And the more difficult my life has become, the more I see that it is all true...nothing has been contradicted, nothing has broken down. As the title of one of his books states, "Everything Belongs."

As we prepare for Christmas, walking through the days of Advent, the devotional readings in Fr. Rohr's book "Radical Grace" comfort me. They remind me of the freedom that God has given me, in releasing me from the tyranny that was part of being a Christian Scientist. Betraying myself - denying what I perceive with my senses and my intuition - is not what God asks of me.

Here is a reading for Advent:
"Many of our people create for themselves a permanently maintained happiness in the midst of so much public suffering. That state is based on an illusion about the nature of reality. It can only work if we block ourselves from a certain degree of that realilty. That's what is meant by denial.

"The Christian, though, is always saying, 'Come, Lord Jesus.' In other words, 'Let reality get at me, the full reality, the Cosmic Christ, all that is.'

"The Incarnation is the refusal of all denial. It is God saying yes to the muddy, the messy, the partial, the powerlessness of it all."

And today's reading:
"...God is the only one we can surrender to without losing ourseves. It's a paradox. I can't prove it to you, and it sure doesn't feel like that, but I promise you it's true.

"When Jesus says those who lose their life will find their life and those who let go of their life will discover their life, obviously he's talking about life in a different way than you and I experience it. We think life is the thing that we've got to protect. He's saying, No, the true self needs no protection: It just is. What we are usually protecting is the repetitive illusions and addictive feelings of the false self.

"God is the only one we can surrender to without losing ourselves. The Christian people, the brothers and sisters of God's Son, Jesus, are those who are called to that life of surrender." - From Preparing for Christmas With Richard Rohr

This Advent season, I'm grateful to have a teacher who tells the truth, who helps me to trust God AND myself, and to see that those are not mutually exclusive. 

GOOD NEWS UPDATE: Thank you for your prayers for my friend, Ann Vossekuil (Angel Taylor's mom). She just posted that her biopsy's findings show the growth to be BENIGN! Thanks be to God! What a great Christmas gift!

Christmas 2006 & Happy News in 2009

In 2006, Katie spent Christmas Eve and part of Christmas Day in the hospital (and so did we). She was finishing up a round of chemotherapy, and she knew that she would feel better on intravenous anti-nausea medications than she would if we had to give them to her through her NG (nasogastric) tube at Ronald McDonald House. She elected to stay in the hospital as long as she could, to have more effective drugs, thus keeping her stomach happy longer, and being more comfortable, overall.

My sister, David and I went to Michael's Craft Store in the days preceding Christmas, to buy supplies for making a wreath, and two small trees for the kids to decorate. We brought Katie's tree to the hospital with us, after we decorated it at Ronald McDonald House. It's barely visible in the photo above; it brightened up the room, but it was still Christmas in a hospital room.

On Christmas Eve, Santa came with LOTS of gifts for all of the children. One of Katie's favorite nurses (Shauna, seen here with Santa) was taking care of her, so that helped to make Christmas Eve better. It wasn't a good way to spend Christmas Eve, but it was bearable.

Gregg's side of the family gathered in Poulsbo, and David went to be with them. We felt that he would have more fun there than he would with us in the hospital. He did.

David with cousin Joey and Mike.

David with cousin Joseph; cousin Kate is in the background.

David with Mike.

We moved Katie back to Ronald McDonald House on Christmas Day. My side of the family gathered with us in Seattle.

My brother, Jim, with me at RMcDH, 12.25.06. Note the ever-present pink bucket atop the armoire - one of many.

Gregg, me and my mom in our room at Ronald McDonald House, Christmas Day, 2006.

Back to Katie's nurse, Shauna: she has a wonderful temperament: calm, funny, intelligent, quick-witted, easy-going, unflappable, and kind. Shauna took wonderful care of Katie, and related very well to David, too.

Now, here is the happy news:  Shauna has become a MOTHER! We are thrilled for her. She has a blog about her journey to adopt her daughter from Ethiopia (on my sidebar: "My Greatest Adventure"). We wish them a delightful first Christmas together!

Close To the Brokenhearted

Psalm 34 (a sampling of verses)

"R. The Lord hears the cry of the poor.

I will bless the LORD at all times;

his praise shall be ever in my mouth.

Let my soul glory in the LORD;

the lowly will hear me and be glad.

R. The Lord hears the cry of the poor.

Look to him that you may be radiant with joy,

and your faces may not blush with shame.

When the poor one called out, the LORD heard,

and from all his distress he saved him.

R. The Lord hears the cry of the poor.

The LORD confronts the evildoers,

to destroy remembrance of them from the earth.

When the just cry out, the LORD hears them,

and from all their distress he rescues them.

R. The Lord hears the cry of the poor.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted;

and those who are crushed in spirit he saves.

The LORD redeems the lives of his servants;

no one incurs guilt who takes refuge in him.

R. The Lord hears the cry of the poor."

Katie & David with cousin Phil

Katie with cousin Hollie

Gregg & Katie with auntie Cheri and cousin Lyndsie

"Think of the many, many stories about God choosing people. There’s Moses, Abraham and Sarah; there is David, Jeremiah, Gideon, Samuel, Jonah and Isaiah. There is Israel itself. Much later there’s Peter and Paul, and, most especially Mary.

"God is always choosing people. First impressions aside, God is not primarily choosing them for a role or a task, although it might appear that way. God is really choosing them to be God’s self in this world, each in a unique situation. If they allow themselves to experience being chosen, being a beloved, being somehow God’s presence in the world, they invariably communicate that same chosenness to others. And thus the Mystery passes on from age to age."  - Richard Rohr, adapted from "Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality," pp. 42–43

I can digest this statement much more readily than the statement that God chose Katie, or us, for the unique kind of suffering that comes with an "incurable" childhood cancer. I just cannot live with the theory that God is a puppeteer, that he looked around the world and pointed his finger at us (or anyone else, for that matter), and that this horrific tragedy could be called - especially by anyone who really knows what it is like to go through it - a gift, blessing in disguise. 

But God's help, His love, His helpers, are all gifts that came with (not because of, but with) the disaster of pediatric cancer. And the opportunity to do our best to "be Him" in the world, in a new way, came with it. Because of His Love, we are beloved, we are chosen (everyone is chosen as beloved by God), and God was in it with us, as He is in our grief-journey with us now, and will be with us, come what may. I have hope and faith in this.

Katie and David with Kappa and aunt Deb

Katie with cousins Andrea and Joseph

(Grandpa & Grandma G. and auntie Linda,

uncles Bill & Jim, in the background)

Katie with cousin Joe

"Loss makes artists of us all as we weave new patterns in the fabric of our lives." - Greta W. Crosby

Katie, Christmas 2005

But I still miss my girl.

Christmas Tree Farm

It’s that time of year again…the time when we go to the tree farm and select our Christmas tree.

This has been difficult, since Katie passed away. It makes me miss her more, because we should all be having a good-natured argument about which tree we like best, the way we used to do! Four of us, four opinions, and the joy of tramping around in the fresh air, among hundreds of beautiful trees from which we are free to choose.

So this year, it occurred to me to invite some friends, who have young boys, to join us. Tom & Marisa drove over from the city, and brought their twins and their dog, Spooky, with them.

We started out with lunch, and a few turns on the rope swing in our yard. Then we drove to the tree farm, and began walking downhill towards the lower acreage of the farm. The boys, their dad and David began a rousing game of tag. This was a lot of fun, since there were trees of many different types, sizes and shapes behind which to hide; there is also a canal that runs through the bottom of the property. Time was spent jumping across this canal.

No one fell in.

It was chilly, so after a brief dog play-date with a pack of other people’s canines, we headed back up the hill to look at our favorites:  the Noble Firs. We selected our tree, and Gregg got underneath it in order to cut it down. David held the top steady.

Nice view, I know.

Meanwhile, our friends considered which tree would be the best for them. Then Tom lay down on the ground to cut the chosen one. David again steadied the tree. I love these photos.

Tom is a gifted physician; we met him when Katie was in the ICU, during our first week at Children’s Hospital - before we even knew what type of cancer she had.  He was a compassionate and wonderful support to us, all through her treatment and illness. His wife is also a physician, and a lovely lady. It’s so different – and it’s fun - to see Tom lying on the ground, cutting down a Christmas tree, with his family gathered around. Katie is the reason we have the gift of this friendship; I only wish she was here to enjoy it with us.

We carried the trees to the shed, where we paid for them, and bought hot cider to ward off the chill. Then we tied the trees to our respective cars, and headed home, to enjoy some French wine and Thai food. The boys continued playing games with David: Monopoly and something electronic (I don't recall what game).

For some reason, this reminds me of a Norman Rockwell scene.

I loved sharing this tradition with friends, especially for the benefit of their boys…although I think the adults had more fun with the tree-cutting part of the day; the boys enjoyed our rope swing and the game of tag.

I hope your Christmas traditions bring you joy.