A Poem for New Beginnings

Sunrise this morning

At the beginning of our Bloom True workshop, 

Flora read aloud the following poem by John O'Donahue, 

and gave each of us a copy. 

It spoke deeply to my heart.

 

To new beginnings, and work-in-progress

More of this morning's sunrise

Life Lessons from a Man I've Never Met

We will be known forever by the tracks we leave. - Dakota proverb

Last spring, I was allowed to participate in two classes because of the generosity of faculty members of the University of Washington School of Medicine. The two classes are "The Healer's Art" (a medical school elective designed by Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D.), and a "Values Clarification" exercise - part of the 4th-year curriculum in the Chronic Care Clerkship for students about to embark upon their residency program. The Values Clarification class was created by a man named Stuart Farber, M.D., who recently passed away from leukemia.

Dr. Farber is revered and loved by his colleagues and students, family and friends. He founded, and was director of, the Palliative Care service at the University of Washington Medical Center. He was a pioneer in the field, helping to develop a palliative care training center at the University of Washington.

In a terrible coincidence, his wife Annalu was also diagnosed with the same kind of leukemia (AML) four months after Dr. Farber's diagnosis, so they each walked in the role of patient and caregiver, supported by their family and community. This journey served to deepen and further inform his sensitivity in what he already believed and taught to his students. In each caringbridge.org update on their health, Dr. Farber and his wife shared their love of poetry by posting a poem chosen to express their feelings of the moment. I learned a great deal about the Farbers (whom I have never met) from those poems, and a great deal about the ways in which art can bring release and healing to patients and caregivers.

The Values Clarification exercise was administered by a wonderful professor named Tom McNalley, M.D., director of the Chronic Care Clerkship (whose specialty is Rehabilitation Medicine), and his gifted colleague, Carol Kummet, LICSW, MTS, a social worker with the Palliative Care Service. Both facilitators exuded seriousness tinged with gentle humor, compassion and empathy. Experiencing the Values Clarification with young medical students was a deeply moving gift to me, and one that I will never forget. It is an important part of Dr. Farber's legacy.

Another vital part of Dr. Farber's legacy is an article which was published posthumously, which I cannot recommend highly enough for EVERYone to read. It was published in the Journal of Pain and Symptom Management, Vol. 49, No. 4 on April 4, 2015, and made available by Dr. Farber's widow here:
http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0885392415000755
under the heading, Humanities: Art, Language, and Spirituality in Health Care. Isn't that a powerful heading? The article is called Living Every Minute. I have read it twice, and am simply in awe of its grace and power. Whether you are a patient, family member of a patient, a clinician, an artist or a spiritual seeker, this article will be a gift to you.

Many deep truths of living, of the value of quality of life over quantity, and the supreme importance for clinicians and caregivers to seek, find and understand what is most important to their patients is beautifully illustrated in Dr. Farber's words and his life. Much is expressed poetically, with far more accuracy and nuance than the most scientific language could ever describe or quantify.

You can read more about Dr. Farber's life and legacy HERE.

Jikiden Reiki with Tadao Yamaguchi

If you have any interest in studying and practicing Reiki, here is a wonderful opportunity in Seattle:

TadaoYamaguchi and his mother are the founders of Jikiden Reiki; his mother was a student of Chujiro Hayashi sensei. Hayashi sensei was taught by the founder of Usui Reiki Ryoho, Mikao Usui.
Mr. Yamaguchi is my Reiki master's teacher.

If you have any questions, please contact Emerald City Reiki Center, or info@jikiden.org.

Creativity in Healing & Spiritual Growth

Grace Episcopal Church on Bainbridge Island, WA

is hosting a series called

"Spiritual Practice Saturdays."

On December 6, from 9:30am - Noon, 

I'll be leading "Creativity in Healing and Spiritual Growth,"

and you're invited to attend!

Here is the description, from Grace's email:

 "God as Creator has made us creative. Inviting that creativity into our spiritual practice can be daunting, and an authentic pathway into healing and growth. Come spend a morning with us as Karen Gerstenberger, author and speaker, guides us as we write and walk and draw mandalas as spiritual practice. Together, we will playfully and skillfully encourage our 'unencumbered self' to authentic expression - the kind of expression that leads to healing, growth and joy. 

To help us plan, please contact Robin Livingston robin@robinmlivingston.com if you wish to attend."

Awe, Refreshment & Shinrin-Yoka

It’s becoming essential that we learn how to relate sanely with difficult times. The earth seems to be beseeching us to connect with joy and discover our innermost essence. This is the best way that we can benefit others. - Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times

Our goal should be to...get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted...never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed. ―Abraham Joshua Heschel

I also remember coming upon a clearing in the woods so densely overgrown that it felt depressing, for nothing seemed capable of getting through. Something in my own makeup resembled this and made me return there several times. But it was finally in winter, without its leaves, that this same clearing undressed itself as a magnificent bed of light that happened to be on the crest of a beautiful hill. It humbled me to realize that winter can be freeing, too, and that I am often overgrown with memories and reasons and twigs of mind that block me from the light. - Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening

Slowing down and truly listening to the wind, birdsong, frogs croaking, running water, the sound of our own footsteps, alder leaves susurrating, fir needles whooshing like ocean waves - really hearing whatever is around us - is a gift. The sense of hearing is a gift.

Seeing the wonder of a leaf drifting on the wind, two trees growing together - entwined like passionate lovers - berries sprouting from a decaying log, moss cloaking trunks of maple and roots of upturned cedar, alders dancing, trailing fingers in a pond, ducks diving in duckweed, clouds passing overhead, ripples on water - is a gift. Seeing is a gift.

Caressed by a breeze, temperature changes, heart lifting, pulse rising in the freedom of open spaces, muscles working up and down trails, a slippery boardwalk or the crunch of stone and bark underfoot, smoothness of grass, ripple of roots, soft springiness of moss - is a gift. Feeling is a gift.

The scent of turning leaves, a salty breeze, pungence of skunk cabbage, decaying mushrooms, rain-washed trails, sap-filled pines - is a gift. The sense of smell is a gift.

The Stroll for Well-Being is teaching me that the Japanese healing intervention of Shinrin-yoka, or "walking in the forests to promote health" is effective. Nature's variety of shape, color, scent, function and form remind me that everything, at every stage of life, has its own particular beauty. We are not made to look - or be - the same as others. Each one of us has unique purpose and gifts, revealed as our lives evolve. What might be your gift, in this time and place?

The Bloedel house, viewed from the bluff

Taking the Ranch Home

One of the classes offered on the day before we left Rancho La Puerta was called “Taking the Ranch Home.” The point was to keep up the good things we had learned and begun to practice during our week of wellness. It was a great gift, and included encouragement to visit the Ranch's website to make use of its many tools and resources. 

We set our intentions in class, writing them down, along with possible roadblocks and ways to work around those roadblocks. Each of us wrote a card including this information, addressed it to our home, and left it with the Ranch staff. I'm expecting to receive this reminder at any time.

After we left the Ranch, I continued to read postings from www.gratefulness.org:

Sunday, Feb. 16

Within your heart, keep one still, secret spot where dreams may go. Louise Driscoll

Monday, Feb. 17

Prayer begins at the edge of emptiness. - Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

The message seemed to be: continue to keep it simple.

“Every day, we are given a natural way to reconnect with God. And it doesn’t depend on education. It doesn’t depend on getting a degree in philosophy or theology. Or what period of history we lived in. Or what our religion precisely is. It depends on really being present to what is right in front of us. Or, as Paul says, ‘God has made it plain.’”– Richard Rohr

The first months of 2013 brought the end of a path of cooperative work on a project which was very dear to my heart; letting go of that path involved shock, pain, bewilderment and a loss of confidence - confidence which had been carefully nurtured, and was growing tenderly after Katie's passing. 

I embarked upon another grief journey - this one compounded by my grief for Katie.

Though I spent much of 2013 working toward acceptance and equilibrium, I was unable to see a way forward with joy, until the Ranch provided a time and place of healing and restoration. While there, I met interesting, generous, intelligent people, who responded to me with kindness and respect - responded to me, my self - not to Katie's and David's mom, or Gregg's wife, not to a survivor or bereaved person, but to Karen. We shared genuine, heartfelt conversations of seriousness and lightness. I spent a week taking gentle care of my whole self, and now feel renewed peace, joy and purpose.

Taking the Ranch with me, I have begun a yoga practice, and am endeavoring to treat my body as the temple it is - with better food for fuel, and with more mindfulness, love and acceptance. I am also doing my best to be more spontaneous in my spiritual practice. I realized - in letting go of my regular practices at the Ranch - that I have a lot of habitual discipline, but not a lot of trust in letting go of those habits. What might happen if I lived my faith more spontaneously? I want to find out.

Thank you for this beautiful card, Carmela!

This time in a new place, seeking the presence of God in everything and everyone, has made me happier than I have been since before Katie got sick, and that is why it is so important to give thanks, write it down and savor it. I have been shown anew that God’s love is in me, and I am in God’s love; that His life lives in me, and I live in His life. I am blessed to do valuable work, and it is coming through God’s hands. My past, present and future belong to Him.

 “This is what God says…
‘Forget about what’s happened;
    don’t keep going over old history.
Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new.
    It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it?
There it is!…I provided water in the desert,
    rivers through the sun-baked earth,
Drinking water for the people I chose,
    the people I made especially for myself,
    a people custom-made to praise me.’ ” - Isaiah 43: 16-21 The Message

Light a Lamp for Someone

“If you light a lamp for someone, it will brighten your own path.” - The Buddha

It has been a long time since I've sat down with my sewing machine and made a quilt. Most of my guild work is made up of the duties of the president:  running errands, ordering supplies, receiving donations, attending to correspondence, communication, dropping off quilts for delivery, answering questions, coordinating activity. I have missed the creative part of simply making quilts for patients, but my skills have been needed elsewhere.

Katie's Comforters Guild receives beautiful gifts of new fabric, and I distribute it to those who make quilts. Some smaller pieces remain, however, and yesterday, I decided to try my hand at free-form sewing to make them into quilt tops. I knew that Lucile (our 90+ year-old guild member who sews nearly a quilt a day) would finish them, if I could turn some of the smaller pieces into larger ones.

Lucile gave me a lesson in how to do this a while ago, and I have been impressed by the fantastic creations which she and others like Bonnie P. and Polly have made with smaller pieces and "scraps" of fabric. While I'm nowhere near their level of expertise (or patience), I was able to make five quilt tops.

Fabric sewed into strips, then cut, turned and sewed back together

You could cut and turn these again to mix it up even more

Pale yellows on either side of deep blue

This has brought me a great deal of pleasure and satisfaction, and is so much fun that I'm finding it hard to stop - there are so many creative possibilities! If you have small pieces of fabric and don't know what to do with them, try sewing them into strips, and then cut the strips, turn them around, and sew them back together. It is easy enough for a beginner (like me), is a good way to use fabrics which don't appear at first to go together, and it is a great experience in simple design for beginning quilters.

Since I am awaiting "the call" to my next adventure (finished with class, putting feelers out for meaningful work, sharing my book, getting the house in order, letting go...), I am in a liminal space. This quote was encouraging, and is one reason why I brought the sewing machine out: 

"Those that be perfect (in union with God) carry always this mind, that when they perceive their labour to be fruitless in one place, to remove straight to another, where more good may be done." - Gregory the Great [6th C.], "Dialogues" "Sometimes we need to let go and move on or we do damage to ourselves and others. Where might this be the case at this time in your life?" - A Daily Spiritual Seed (subscribe HERE)

Since my dreams for the video came to a standstill, I have been seeking the place "where more good may be done." Sewing for patients of the hospital is a good place to do some good; it always brightens my spirits and takes me out of myself. This is a welcome movement for anyone whose life has been turned upside down. Even with the love of friends and family, there is a sense of isolation and "otherness" which tends to lead one's thoughts inward. Doing something for others helps to turn my heart outward.

A beautiful prayer, courtesy of the Center for Action and Contemplation:

"May each of us be so fortunate as to be overtaken by God in the midst of little things. May we each be so blessed as to be finished off by God, swooping down from above or welling up from beneath, to extinguish the illusion of separateness that perpetuates our fears. May we, in having our illusory, separate self slain by God, be born into a new and true awareness of who we really are: one with God forever. May we continue on in this true awareness, seeing in each and every little thing we see the fullness of God’s presence in our lives. May we also be someone in whose presence others are better able to recognize God’s presence in their lives, so that they, too, might know the freedom of the children of God." - James Finley

“The personal life deeply lived always expands into truths beyond itself.” - Anais Nin

The SFDWG (Sh*tty First Draft Writing Group)

A few years ago, I met a group of bereaved mothers online. Each one of us had recently suffered the death of our child, all due to completely different causes. We are bloggers who live in Ohio, Virginia and Washington state. Robin, Karen, Chris & I had never met in the flesh, but we felt akin to one another once we began to correspond. One of our group suggested that we start a book group using a private blog where we could reflect and discuss what we were reading. That is exactly what we did - except (of course), much more than that happened.

We chose a book by wonderful author Joyce Rupp called "Open the Door." As we read and responded to the questions for each chapter, we walked together through our grief, our deepest thoughts and spiritual issues, family difficulties, anniversaries, and more. We got to know each other intimately...and some of us have now met in person. These relationships are a tremendous gift of solace to me.

The blog is still private. We tried to study another book after finishing "Open the Door," but everyone's life got busier and the book study disbanded. We keep in touch through our blogs, facebook and private email communications, but have allowed the group activity around a book to go away.

I found I missed the regular exchanges and camaraderie with such women; though I don't seek them out, bereaved mothers do tend to find each other. But it can't be just ANY bereaved mother: she has to have a deep (and preferably dark) sense of humor and irony; she needs some kind of spiritual sense, and she has to be determined to live a full life, while facing the fact that there is one part of her life that will never, ever be filled again.

A little over a year ago, I attended the Field's End Writer's Conference with my friend, Reba (Hannah's mom). That event inspired us to found a writing group, and invite other fledgling writers to join in for accountability and encouragement. Enter the Sh*tty First Draft Writing Group. It just happened that the members of this group are all bereaved mothers -  most of the credit for this miracle goes to Reba, Hannah's mom; she knows all of us, and introduced us to one another. Credit for the name of the group goes to Anne Lamott, who encourages her students to write "shitty first drafts," and not to edit prematurely - just get it out, get it down - go for it.

We meet every two weeks at one home or other, share what we are working on, offer commentary and encouragement, laugh, cry, eat, drink and generally support each other creatively in a space which no one but a bereaved parent understands. No one but a mother who has had to say "goodbye" to her child knows the gnawing space left in the heart and gut; the difficulties of living each day, facing the future without that child's presence; the existential questions and challenges to faith, the search for meaning - and meaningful work, - the panic attacks, doubt and the harsh reality of a life changed, permanently, forever, stretching out before us - a life without that child's laughter, love, touch, smell, sensibility, contributions and need for our care. We also share our joys in day-to-day living, our families, progress, growth and inspiration.

In the presence of such understanding, I do not feel "alien;" without that fellowship, my loss looms even greater. I'm thankful for these beautiful, talented, generous women and each of their precious children.

Robin, Stefanie, Reba and Teri

"Leonard Cohen’s song, 'Anthem,' states in the refrain: 'There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.' It sounds a lot like Paul’s statement about carrying 'the treasure in earthen vessels' (2 Corinthians 4:7). These are both much more poetic ways of naming what we unfortunately called 'original sin' —a poor choice of words because the word sin implies fault and culpability, and that is precisely not the point! Original sin was trying to warn us that the flaw at the heart of all reality is nothing we did personally, but that there is simply 'a crack in everything' and so we should not be surprised when it shows itself in us or in everything else." - Richard Rohr

 Thank God for good company on a hard road. That's another example of "how the light gets in."

From "A Daily Spiritual Seed"

I have mentioned the devotional which I enjoy (via email) called "A Daily Spiritual Seed." Today's posting was so beautiful that I am quoting from it here, to share with you.

"Reflection on the Scripture
http://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/daily.html

"As temples of God, we must remain fit and always become more holy. From time to time, we need to make changes in our lives - sometimes small, sometimes radical. It may be that all we need is the grace to be aware of the need for change, or we may need our tables overturned. We need not fear in either case, for Christ is committed to remain at our side to help us make whatever change of habit or heart that is needed.

"It is well to remember that the effort itself is formative. That is what God is asking from us.

"Our job will always be to keep our minds and hearts attentive to why God makes us a temple in the first place: to receive God's love and to return it by sharing it with others: our families and close circles of friends, our collaborators at work, the needy on the street, in the hospitals, soup kitchens, classrooms, or at any cross-roads we come to. God made us because God loves us. With that love comes a call: to be holy, prayerful, and ready to love others, even to the point of sacrificing ourselves for their sake. This call enables God to reach out, through us, with love for them and to help them become Holy. This is how the Kingdom of God grows." - by Kevin Kersten, S.J.

A message from Phil St. Romain, Internet Ministry Coordinator of "A Daily Spiritual Seed"
"- - - Several ways you can support our Internet ministry:
a. Pray for us and for those make use of our services (that includes you, of course).
b. Tax-deductible donation or subscription: see http://shalomplace.com/seed/donations.html(check payment information provided).
A special gratitude gift will be sent to all donors/subscribers.
c. Purchase an Amazon.com gift card:
- http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00067L6TQ/?tag=christianspiritu "

"God made us because God loves us."

Interviews

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of activity, veering back and forth between fast and slow, and packed with significance. It is still hard to believe some days that this is my life.

Two Mondays ago, Paul and I went to Seattle Children's Hospital to interview two staff members: Karen, a chaplain, and Dr. Cohen, the heart surgeon, both of whom were very important in Katie's cancer journey.

Karen Taliesin is a gifted minister, open to all kinds of spirituality, who brings love and peace into the room when she enters. She was a lifeline to me in the hospital - a representative of God's loving, courageous, humorous presence in the midst of the craziness that is pediatric cancer. She was one of the few people whose presence was acceptable to Katie, and who brought peace. Those 10 months would have been much darker without Karen. She consented to be interviewed on camera, and it was a pleasure to be with her again and hear what she has to say.

Dr. Gordon Cohen is a brilliant pediatric heart surgeon. He removed the part of the tumor which was in Katie's heart. Discovering that her entire inferior vena cava was full of tumor and had to be removed, he re-fashioned a connection for her blood to flow using her own tissue. He repairs the hearts of the tiniest infants, too, and he does it very well indeed.

Dr. Cohen agreed to speak with us on camera, but instead of beginning our session at 10:00 A.M., he was called into surgery, and was delayed until 2:00 P.M. There are not a lot of people in the world who can do what he does, so when he is called, he goes to help. And we were glad to wait for him; we feel strongly that videotape is not as important as pediatric heart surgery!

Dr. Cohen spoke to us candidly for 45 minutes on camera, and for some time afterward, off-camera. He took me right back to Katie's surgery, and it was painful, but for the purposes of our video, it was vitally important. The same feelings arose when listening to Dr. Waldhausen - I was back with Katie, and her life was in grave danger - but she was still alive, with hope for recovery. It is hard to re-visit those memories.

Yesterday, Paul and I interviewed our last subject: Amy, Katie's wonderful hospice nurse. Amy brought peace and comfort into our lives when all hope for recovery had receded, replaced by prayers for mercy, love and an easy death. Our prayers were answered, with God's (and Amy's) help.

As I sat with Amy, her words took me right back to the days of Katie's dying - the four weeks of uncertainty, and the painful steps involved in accepting that we had to let Katie go as easily as we could. Reading and signing the "Do Not Resuscitate" form. Learning about medications we hoped we would never have to use. Facing each day with the purpose to be and provide whatever Katie needed, no matter what happened.

At one point, I thought I was going to be sick. It came over me suddenly, a wave of deep nausea, and I had to pray to get through it without vomiting, as the cameras were rolling and Amy was speaking. It passed, but the feeling shocked me. After four years, the power of those events is buried in my psyche and my body on a deep level. I do not re-visit Katie's dying process in detail in my mind. Going through it once was horrific, yet sacred; remembering it in detail yesterday was just plain horrific...but it is worth it, to do this work.

We are thankful to each interviewee for his/her time, dedication and generosity of spirit in remembering these events and sharing his/her thoughts and feelings about it, more than four years later. Now, we move on to the editing of all of these pieces.

Through the process of listening to others, I have been gifted with many deep truths and passionate feelings in their words. This work raises many questions in me, and it stirs a desire to ask more questions and listen more deeply to those who accompany us in our darkest moments. They possess a wealth of knowledge and experience that cannot be duplicated, and it deserves to be preserved and heard. Who knows where the path leads next? I can only leave that up to God and take the step that is right in front of me now.

The Spirituality of the 12 Steps

Somehow, without intending this, I've become an intermittent blogger. This means that when I do get here to write, I have so much to say that it should probably be broken up into several posts. Here is the first one: an excerpt from Fr. Rohr's book about the spirituality of the 12 Steps. The daily devotionals from CAC have recently been excerpted from this book; they are stirring and encouraging.    We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood [God], praying only for knowledge of [God’s] will for us and the power to carry that out. ~ Step Eleven of the Twelve Steps "The word “prayer,” which Bill Wilson rightly juxtaposes with the word “meditation,” is a code word for an entirely different way of processing life. When you “pray,” you are supposed to take off one “thinking cap” and put on another “thinking cap” that will move you from an egocentric perspective—from your own private needs, hurts, angers and memories—to a soul-centric perspective, what Malcolm Gladwell calls “thinking without thinking.” Prayer is not about changing God, but being willing to let God change us, or as Step Eleven says, “praying only for the knowledge of God’s will.” If you are able to switch minds to the mind of Christ, your prayer has already been answered! That new mind knows, understands, accepts, and sees correctly, widely, and wisely. Its prayers are always answered because they are, in fact, the prayers of God too."            Richard Rohr, Breathing Underwater: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps, pp. 93, 94, 95

Alchemy

"Faith is crumpling and throwing away everything, proposition by proposition, until nothing is left, and then writing a new proposition, your very own, to throw in the teeth of despair." - Mary Jean Irion, Yes, World: A Mosaic of Meditation

This was the message that I received this morning from http://www.gratefulness.org/. It was so interesting to read that I stopped and really listened deeply to what it might be saying. The part I liked best was the phrase, "throw in the teeth of despair." What a great image. But I didn't quite agree with the "throwing away everything." There is much to be learned and gained from the wisdom and experience of the past - from others, and from my own journey.

Instead of throwing it all away, I keep thinking of the word alchemy. I spent a little time looking it up this morning, and learned some fascinating things. First, a brief version of the definition:
"Alchemy, derived from the Arabic word al-kimia (الكيمياء, ALA-LC: al-kīmiyā’), is both a philosophy and an ancient practice focused on the attempt to change base metals into gold, investigating the preparation of the "elixir of longevity", and achieving ultimate wisdom, involving the improvement of the alchemist as well as the making of several substances described as possessing unusual properties."

Second, the way the process is viewed in four (or three) steps in the creation of a magnum opus, or great work:

"Magnum opus...The Great Work; mystic interpretation of its four stages:
nigredo (-putrefactio), blackening (-putrefaction): corruption, dissolution, individuation...
albedo, whitening: purification, burnout of impurity; the moon, female
citrinitas, yellowing: spiritualization, enlightenment; the sun, male;
rubedo, reddening: unification of man with God, unification of the limited with the unlimited.
After the 15th century, many writers tended to compress citrinitas into rubedo and consider only three stages."

I could draw parallels between some of those four stages and what has happened to me in the past few years.

The third thing of significance: "Carl Jung reexamined alchemical symbolism and theory and began to show the inner meaning of alchemical work as a spiritual path." This sounds like the action of the Holy Spirit in cooperation with our spirit:  grace and transformation.

And fourth, the use of alchemy in literature, including the Arthurian legends and even in Harry Potter. The one I recall best is Grimm's Rumpelstiltskin, with the words "spinning straw into gold." And that is how I feel about the experiences of the past four years. The aftermath has left me with a lot of straw, and I am trying to spin it into gold, with God's help and direction. Not literal gold, but something more precious. Katie's Endowment for Cancer Research, Katie's Comforters Guild, speaking, writing, various creative endeavors all have an element of alchemy in them. The alchemy is taking the difficult experiences, and the scars they have left, and allowing the transforming power of God - the Holy Spirit, grace - to turn that "straw into gold," burn the dross away, and leave something of lasting value and beauty.

Alchemy. I like that.

Something Meaty, Something Fluffy

Meaty: If you haven't ever checked out the website

www.shalomplace.com , please do. It's not flashy, but it's meaty, in the spiritual sense. I love their daily devotional called

"A Daily Spiritual Seed." You can sign up to receive it by scrolling down the sidebar (to the right) and clicking on the picture of the wheat.

Fluffy: If you are a mystery-lover, and haven't yet seen the new Sherlock Holmes series on Masterpiece Mystery, oh my goodness, you are in for a treat. You can find out more about Sherlock by clicking on his name, and following the link. I'm hooked.

Reading & Writing

I'm involved in a new project: an online spiritual retreat with three of my blogging friends. You may know them from my sidebar; they are also bereaved mothers. It's like a gift from God, to be able to do a book study like the ones we did in our Lectionary class at church (the book is by one of my favorite spiritual authors, Joyce Rupp) with these women who have also experienced the death of a child. Our children were all different ages, and had different causes of death; we have different spiritual backgrounds, but we are alike in our love for God, and our desire for communion with Him. We do a lot of writing on a private blog, so I have less time to write here.

Though I've missed the spiritual fellowship of Lectionary class, I don't trust myself in a formal group quite yet. I'm too forthright, and am not sure that I'd be able to be patient enough, polite enough, or hold my tongue when I disagree with someone. So an online group seems to be the best of both worlds, for now.

Wanting to do more writing, I am trying to discern what I should write. I've started three books in the three years since Katie passed away:  one is based upon the entries in this blog; one is based upon the year that Katie was sick, and the other is a book for adolescent cancer patients.

I haven't finished ONE of them.

I don't know which one to try to finish first. I am concerned that no one will want to read them. I keep talking myself out of getting going on finishing any of them...but I want to do it. So I am dithering and writing elsewhere, working on Katie's Comforters Guild and family business.

David is doing well, and is happy at college. Gregg and I are having fun cooking, going on excursions and being spontaneous. It's as if every night can be "date night." We've had houseguests, dinner company, and have been busy socially. So far, "empty nesting" doesn't feel really empty.

Inspiration from Magazines

We've received two college magazines, recently: one from Pomona College, which I attended during my freshman and sophomore years, and one from Gonzaga University, which David will begin attending this autumn.

In the Pomona magazine, I normally briefly scan the articles, look to see who has had a book published, and check on my class (and those around mine) for news of anyone I know. This time, I read an article that took my breath away, and I want to share part of it with you.

Though the gates of Pomona College have inscribed upon them this saying, "Let only the eager, thoughtful, and reverent enter here," I didn't see a lot of reverence in daily life.  On the other side of those gates is a farewell message: "They only are loyal to this college who, departing, bear their added riches in trust for mankind;" yet service and humility were not taught or modeled, in my young awareness. Perhaps I was too narrow-minded at the time to see properly; I thought I saw mainly ego and cut-throat competition. Yet I have been blessed by the first-class education I received there, and am deeply thankful for it.

I had been very sheltered growing up, and was naive to the ways of the world, when I was admitted to Pomona. I knew I was lucky to be there; I was admitted from the waiting list. Everyone student was near the top 10% of his/her class. If you were known as one of the "smart" ones in your home town, you were no big deal at Pomona; everyone was smart. Though I made some wonderful friends, and thought the quality of the teaching and the beautiful campus were great gifts, in my junior year, I transferred to a small, provincial (and academically inferior) Christian college, where I completed my degree in Fine Art. (My father was against this, and regrets my decision to this day; I suspect he may be right.)

The article in Pomona College Magazine, which you can read in full here, tells the story of a young Pomona graduate, Carlo Diy, who was moved by the disparity between the advantages he enjoyed and those without advantages in the larger world around him. The natural response, for him, was to go to Haiti; his first time was in January, 2007:

"He was assigned as a volunteer coordinator but also wrote for the charity’s website and taught English to the medical staff. His day-to-day duties ranged from the mundane to the grotesque. He helped unload large containers
of supplies and picked up people at the airport. But he also washed the lifeless bodies of children who died at the hospital at a rate of one per day. And he picked up the decomposing bodies of unclaimed dead at the city morgue, their rotting limbs sometimes pulling apart in his hands as he tried to lift them into cardboard coffins made by the agency’s orphans.
     Before too long, Father Rick’s words would haunt him. At one point, Diy himself was tempted to flee from Haiti and leave behind the people he was trying to help.
     The crisis came in April 2008, when riots again broke out in the capital, this time over soaring food prices. Monitoring the unrest became a part of Diy’s daily routine at Pediatric Hospital St. Damien Chateaublond, located in a compound near the airport, northeast of downtown, relatively removed from the turmoil.
Every afternoon, he’d run up to the roof scanning the skies for columns of black smoke, the signals that vandalism, looting and violence may be getting closer. From his provisional watchtower, the nervous lookout fashioned a pragmatic
defense for any scared shepherd who puts self-preservation above saving his flock.
   He’s “the kind of shepherd who wants to see his family again. And surf El Porto in Manhattan Beach again. And learn to drive stick-shift. And maybe have kids someday,” wrote Diy in a blog under the title “Brutally Honest Corner” posted on
his Haiti website, www.onewritething.com. “I’d love to be a hero, but I’ve made promises to the people I love. I’m not dying here.”
   Diy completed his full 18 months before returning safely to Southern California two months later, in June 2008. But the suffering he had seen still assaulted his senses. The repugnant smell of death, the wail of a grieving mother, the heart-rending routine of lifting the spirits of sick children only to watch them die. He had trouble reconciling two realities, one of comfort and excess, one of constant misery. There were days back home in the peaceful L.A. suburb of El Segundo when he found it hard to get out of bed, and all he could do was cry.
   Then the massive quake struck Haiti on Jan. 12. As the disaster unfolded, Diy started receiving news that some of his friends had died or been injured in the collapse of the charity’s former hospital building. He felt so useless sitting at home so far away. When he heard from fellow volunteers around the world who were rushing back to help in the recovery, he knew he had to join them. “You can’t claim to be any kind of a friend when something like that happens, if you don’t go and do something, at least to show up and show solidarity.”
   The entries in his daily diaries after the quake are filled with the horror of the destruction, and an intensified, trembling anguish over the near-hopelessness of the situation. On Feb. 6 he wrote: “I can’t help but keep thinking that there are only two types of people in the world—those who will give their lives in the service of something, like making Haiti more livable, and those who will not.”
   But in his journal he also turns to his faith: “Mass was all about Calvary. Jesus took the worst possible torturous death and opened up to us everlasting life. … Father said that’s why you go to Jean Joseph’s crushed house where you can smell the stench of his unfound, decaying brothers and sisters … and say a Mass. That’s what we do as Christians, to stand at Calvary and try to redeem a terrible situation.”

I was inspired to read about this young man whose spiritual and intellectual riches are truly being lived out, just as the founders of the college had hoped. May he be blessed, and continue to share his gifts with the world which needs his spirit so much.

On the last page of the Gonzaga magazine is an article, written by a journalist alumna, discussing the Spiritual Exercises created by St. Ignatius of Loyola and their specific impact on her life. She quotes this prayer by Ignatius:

Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty
my memory, my understanding, and my entire will,
All I have and call my own.
You have given all to me.
To you, Lord, I return it.
Everything is yours; do with it what you will.
Give me only your love and your grace,
that is enough for me.

She writes further: "It's a radical prayer in this contemporary age, when we believe we can control most things with intellect and will. My father taught at GU's law school for 45 years, yet his intellect and his memories were annihilated by diesease. The prayer acknowledged my father's unique reality..." This insight is a gem of reality and humility.

I am already being blessed by this Jesuit university, even before our son takes his place there, as a freshman in the class of 2014. I'm thankful, and am looking forward to learning all that God wants to teach through this gift of a continuing education.

Finally (and on a much lighter note), I subscribe to Vanity Fair magazine, and must share a tidbit. In this month's issue, there is an excerpt from Christopher Hitchens' new autobiography. I am not a fan of Hitchens. I think he is terribly self-important and I disagree with many of his views; however, there are some fabulously funny quotes from his friends in the book. My favorite is a quote from Clive James about "an encounter with some bore with famous halitosis:" " 'By this time his breath was undoing my tie.' " Do admit: it's mean, but funny. And one more, about a book that Mr. James found to be terribly boring: " 'Here is a book so dull that a whirling dervish could read himself to sleep with it. If you were to recite even a single page in the open air, birds would fall out of the sky and dogs drop dead.' " 
Though I find this sort of comment hilarious, it's very unkind, and I sincerely hope that no one so critical will ever review my writing.