Just Keeping It Real

Yesterday a number of readers were very generous, kind, and encouraging in their comments regarding the circumstances my son and I are currently dealing with.  I appreciate your prayers and support more than you can possibly know.

However, I am a tad bit concerned that K. (my paraplegic son) and I may be coming off a bit "too good" in all this, and if so, that is entirely my fault.  So today's post is my attempt to keep it real, as there is no one living in this little domicile who is apt to win any Mother Teresa awards.  Trust me on this, Mother Marsha can be quite a pain. 

You know what they say, "If it isn't one thing, it's your mother."

Likewise K., while everything I have shared about his indomitable spirit is quite true, is no Saint. K., and can also be quite the challenge on a rough day.  He does not suffer fools gladly, has a fierce intellect that can be sharply critical, and is a fairly picky housemate.  I simply do not know where he gets these traits.  :)

Here are a couple of examples- in the spirit of keeping it real:

When being transported to the wound clinic yesterday via gurney, he noticed as they loaded him in his driveway into the van that there were some brown spots in his lawn.  He hires folks to keep his lawn meticulously trimmed and fertilized year 'round, so a brown spot is NOT what he wants to see.

"Mom, could you please put the sprinklers on those brown spots later today?", he says with just a hint of impatience because he has asked this previously.  And I have done it any number of times over the past two months, but admittedly I missed a couple of times this past week - probably while I was doing fourteen loads of laundry.  (She mutters to herself.) Just keeping it real here.

I make eggs and toast, but this is a balancing act worthy of a hire-wire trapeze performance.  The eggs should be over-easy, with just a hint of liquidity on the yolks, but without any hint of crispy edges on the white part.  He never complains if they are not to his liking, he simply eats around the offending portions and leaves it on the plate.  Message received - and I redouble my efforts both to get the eggs just right, and to not strangle him while I serve them to him.  I'm just saying.

And THEN there is the whole toast saga.  Could grief, could he have picked a more obstreperous appliance?  He likes his toast light, but not too light.  In his toaster oven, if one does not place the bread slices in exactly the correct spot, it makes these darker stripes on the toast, even if the rest is just the way he prefers it.  I staunchly resist the temptation to pitch the darned thing into the farthest corner of the backyard.

How I long for my Cuisinart sitting on my forlorn little kitchen counter at home, where both my husband and my little dog currently reside without me.  (Sniff, sniff.  Boo hoo.)

So, while we are indeed, moving right long as best we can, there are no heroics going on around here, except perhaps in heart and in good intentions.

As the Mother Teresa reportedly said once, "We can not all do great things, but we can all do small things with great love."

And that is where we are today.  Just keeping it real.  Hope your day is filled with good things and love.  Until next time ...Marsha

Two in Quiet Turmoil

Note:  This is a vignette - not quite a post but not quite a short story.

It must have been the smallest sitting area for patients or family members that I had ever seen.  And believe me, I have seen my share of hospital, clinic, and specialists waiting rooms. 

The carpet was fairly new and in soothing colors, the plastic floral arrangement was tasteful, if artificial (much like the receptionist) and the walls were a muted pastel.  The magazines, unlike at my dentist's office, were actually published this year, and one or two were even this month's editions.  Amazing.

This level of attention to detail, however, only served to illustrate the medical staff's awareness of the level of stress those occupying this little haven would be under as they waited.

And yet, all this planned decor covered an area of no more than thirty-six square feet, about six feet by six feet.  The entry door took up most of the first wall.  There were two chairs along the second wall, at a right angle to a third chair on another wall.  On the fourth wall was a chair/table/rolling stool affair with a small desk attachment adorned with various vials, equipment, etc. obviously for drawing blood samples.

I suppose if all three chairs were occupied, one would have to look away while occupant number four was punctured.  Being a little needle-phobic, just the thought of this makes me feel queasy.  But on this quiet afternoon, as the Muzak played Vivaldi's Four Seasons followed by some mellow Windham Hill arrangement, this small oasis was empty.

Thankful for a place to sit while my son, K., was pummeled by the noise of the MRI tunnel, I read a magazine article in jerks and starts, as I would jump up to look out into the hallway for news or noise from the room a few feet away where they worked on K.

After a few minutes, another individual entered this little cove of comfort, but oddly he was wearing only very thick socks, perhaps two or three pairs, on his feet without any shoes.  He was trim, with neatly combed grey hair and twinkly blue eyes, surrounded by a well-lined face which bespoke many years of outdoor work.

He smiled as he seated himself in the chair at a right angle to my own seat.  We then politely ignored each other for the next several minutes, much like strangers do in an elevator.  No use getting acquainted for such a short interval.

But the minutes dragged on and eventually one of us spoke, and we established whether we were patient or family member - he the first and I the second.  He admitted he was nervous, as he said, "The last time I sat in this room, I ended up losing a kidney to cancer, so I am a little nervous to be sitting here again.  Are you a patient?"

"No, I am here with my son, who is having an MRI next door."

"Does he have cancer?"

"No, he is paraplegic from an auto accident, and recently had to have a very serious surgery.  They are checking for infection in the pelvic bone."

"That must be hard.  My wife is very worried about me.  Heck, I'm worried about me, too.  I hope I don't lose anything this time around.  At my age I don't have many spare parts left."  He smiled indicating he was trying to be cheerful, not whining.

A door opens, and I hear a nurse ask K., "Are you hanging in there?  We need about two more pictures and it will take another four minutes each, with a few minutes downtime in between.  Can you do that?"

What with medical transport time, waiting time, and in the tunnel time, K. has already been on the narrow, hard plastic gurney for over an hour and a half.  Each minute increases the possibility of a pressure sore, as this kind of surface is not appropriate for his condition except on a short basis of extreme necessity. 

Additionally, his wound vac machine has now been on battery power for that same length of time, and I am anxious to get it plugged back into a power source.  My nerves are shot and we have yet another wound clinic appointment directly after this one, in another building a couple of miles away.

Will this afternoon never end?

"I hope your son does okay today.  I'm here to see whether they are going to have to replace my hip.  It is very cold in there where they do the MRI" , he states simply as he glances at his multi-layered sock clad feet.

"Thanks, but he will be fine.  We've been through worse than this." I offer, trying to be cheerful and coming off as artificial as the floral arrangement. When we do get home, I learn K. was freezing and it took him two hours under blankets to thaw out.

"I hope your tests come out well, too." I say to this stranger, whose name I do not know, but whose anxiety I recognize instantly and intimately, as only those who have spent time in these rooms can.

We are strangers, but as sociologists would label us, we are "known strangers".  We do not know each others' names, or birthdays, or family backgrounds.  But we identify thoroughly with pain, and courage, and terror and resignation, and the peace in each other's eyes, knowing that ultimately it is out of our hands.

We sit here, the two of us, in quiet almost restful turmoil.  And we wait ... while we learn patience and practice fortitude.
Until next time .... Marsha

          # # # #
Have you shared an experience like this with a "known stranger"?  If so, what did you gain or learn from it?

Life Is a Pressure Cooker - Part four

LISTENING AND LAUGHING - Two great safety vents

Last post I mentioned talking as a way to relieve pressure in your life.  Not just aimless prattling, but positive, intentional conversations with the Lord, friends and family.   However, it is a one-way conversation (actually it can hardly be called a conversation) if I do all the talking and the other party does all the listening.

God is the Great Listener - the best, the ultimate.  Although we are taught to say our prayers, at bedtime, at dinner, etc., I do not ever recall being taught to listen for God's responses to my prayers.  Wait?  Yes.  Hope? Yes.  But listen?  Not really.

During the years I taught corporate communications, we spent lots of time going over how to speak up appropriately in meetings and how to write an articulate memo in order to give your idea the best chance of fair consideration.  In other words, talking.  I worked in a mid-sized company of around 1,200 employees and each person could sign up for the class or classes they felt would be most helpful in their daily work.

Because so much of my time was spent sorting out miscommunication in the workplace, I decided to develop a class on listening.  Just listening.  Nothing else.  The response was surprising.  People filled the class and those who could not get in put their names on a waiting list for the next opportunity.  I discovered that people were hungry to learn how to listen, but no one had ever given them any guidelines.

God gave us the best instruction in listening that I have ever found.  Psalm 46:10 says, "Be still and know that I am God." 

The first rule of good listening is to "be still."  Simple.  But not so easy, when our minds are full of opinions and questions and anxiety.  In the above mentioned class, instead of the typical introductions and review of the agenda, the class began before the attendees even entered the room.  A sign was posted on the classroom door that said, "SHHHHH - LISTENING IN PROGRESS."

Students entered silently and were handed an exercise sheet, with instruction to write down every sound they could hear in the room - the sound of pens scratching on the paper, the sound of breathing, rain on the window, someone down the hallway talking loudly on a phone.  There was a prize for the person who could list the greatest number of individual sounds - and with absolutely nothing going on the room except for listening (and writing down the what they could hear) the lists often went to twenty or twenty-five different sounds.

It is amazing what we can hear when we really listen.  The underlying tension in a child's voice when they tell us they had a "good day", leads us to suspect we need to listen to them tell us about what happened that day.

When we listen to a friend, without mentally forming our own reply before they are finished talking, when we allow a heartbeat or two between when they finish their sentence and when we respond, we begin to learn the art of really listening.

Listening to the concerns, joys, struggles, and victories of others allows us to better discern, appreciate and deal with our own challenges. 

This series began discussing the safety vent of tears, and thus we come full circle to the safety valve of laughter.  Many years ago Norman Cousins, the famed UCLA doctor who pioneered the study of biochemistry in human emotions,  wrote extensively on the healing power of laughter.  Once again, God was way ahead of our human understanding.  His Word tells us in Proverbs that "A merry heart does good like medicine."  True then - still true today.

Scientists now know that our brains release endorphins when we laugh, producing a sense of well-being and cheer.  Increased endorphins have been shown to promote better recovery from illness.  God knew that thousands of years ago, long before someone coined the phrase "laughter is the best medicine."
                                           & & &

Life is tough.  Scott Peck, author of The Road Less Traveled, suggested that it is only when we give up the false notion that life should be easy, that we can begin to deal effectively with life's toughest challenges.  God knows our frame and remembers that we are frail creatures at best.  He knows that we often succumb to pressure, just when we most need to take a strong stand.

But He has not left us without some tools with which to confront life's pressure.  Yes, life is a pressure cooker, but we need not live caught between "stowing and blowing" (see article one in this series).  Instead we can learn to use our God-given coping mechanisms and emerge from each trial stronger, truer and more able to help someone else.

•      Tears
•      Walking
•      Talking
•      Listening
•      Laughing

These are healthy safety mechanisms for venting pressure.  The world offers rage, revenge and violence to express human frustration.  God offers us strength and purpose as we weep, walk, talk, listen and laugh with Him and with those He has put in our lives.   ...  God bless you  ... Marsha Young

Life Is a Pressure Cooker - Part Three

                                                                           
Walking and Talking - They Really Help

In Part One - we talked about the fact that life's pressures can sometimes cause us to overheat, and even explode upon occasion, if we do not have our vents working properly.  In Part Two - we reviewed one of God's best inventions for defusing some of life's pressure build-up:  healthy tears.

Now we come to two other wonderful devices for dealing with pressure, walking and talking.  Most of us begin these two activities sometime near the end of our first year of life.  By the time we are full-fledged adults you would think we would have them down pat.  However, this is not necessarily so.

Oh, we may talk a good deal, but unfortunately we may say very little.  Or we may be talking to the wrong person, which tends to make things worse rather than better. 

Nevertheless, when used thoughtfully and appropriately, these two abilities can work wonders in allowing us to safely reduce life's pressures.

A walk with a friend: 
What a blessing!  The best friend any of us can have is Jesus.  Many of us can remember singing What a Friend We Have in Jesus during services in our youth.  I am also reminded of another old chestnut in the gospel music catalogue, And He Walks With me and He Talks With Me.

But do we ever take them literally?  I have.  When my two boys were young, and my daughter was a baby, we only had one car and it was usually gone during the day as my husband took it to work.  So I could not leave the house during that time, unless I did so on foot while corralling two rambunctious boys and carrying a baby in arms, as we did not have a stroller.

But in the evenings, when their father got home, I would take a walk for a half an hour or so, just around the neighborhood - to get some fresh air, clear my head, and calm my heart before the Lord.  It was those quiet walks, that helped me go back and start dinner and face the din.  Sometimes I would listen to the birds chirp and sing.  Sometimes I would look at the clouds or the shape of a tree.  Just walking around in God's creation gave my heart a rest and my mind some clarity.

And what fun to take a walk with a friend who shares your interests or struggles.  Many women, who cannot afford to join a gym or buy expensive home equipment, get their exercise by walking with one or more friends while they talk about their day.  Burns up calories and can also burn away the dross of resentments, confusion, and misunderstanding.  And it is free!

Likewise, talking is a God-given ability that He desires to see us use in a healthy and meaningful manner.  Jesus is also a wonderful listener, and He will speak in that still small voice to our hearts when we take the time to go to him in prayer.  The Lord said in Isaiah, "Come now let us reason together."  God invites us to talk with Him about anything and everything that may be putting pressure on us.

Talking with coworkers, friends, family members can also be a viable outlet for easing the normal pressures of life.  Caution is needed, however, to resist gossip, criticism of those not present, or self-pity.   When we avoid these, and focus on healthy, productive conversations about life's challenges - talking becomes the blessing God intended for it to be. 

God gave mankind language skills, uniquely in all creation, as none of the animals He created can speak.  Yes, there are a few limited exceptions such as "talking parrots."  But they make sounds in imitation of others - and without any real understanding.  Oh, dear, I fear I may have fallen into that trap myself from time to time.

                                                 & & &

So if your life is a pressure-cooker right now - I have two suggestions for you: 
     1.  Take a walk.
     2.  Have a talk.

You may choose to take a solitary stroll for relaxation or a group walk for exercise.  Either has value.  But get out in the fresh air and move.  It will ease your tension and build your stamina.

                                                    
For having a good talk, you may choose to pour out your concerns only to the Lord.  He is always the best audience.  Sometimes, though we are like the little girl who told her mother she was lonely and wanted to talk to someone.  He mother, who was busy with other life demands, told her that she could always "talk to Jesus."  The child innocently said, "Yes, that is true.  But sometimes I need to talk to someone with skin on."  Um-humm - yes, we do.

                                          

In those times, choose your talking partner wisely, and then talk to your heart's content.  And that is exactly what you will discover.  Your heart will feel more content, after sharing a good talk with someone who cares.

Walking and talking - just two of the safety vents God has given us with which to deal with life's inevitable pressures.  King David said, "... He leads me beside still waters, He restores my soul."  A quiet walk beside a stream is not just a refreshing metaphor, it is also a description of an action that truly brings peace.  I have never walked beside a brook, lake, or river that I did not feel better afterward.

Praying that you will have a good walk and some lively talk.  God bless you  ... Marsha Young

Life Is a Pressure Cooker - Part Two

Life is full of pressures - family pressure, social pressure, job pressure, financial pressure, and on and on it goes.  When these pressures build up in our lives, as they surely will in every life sooner or later, God has designed some very healthy "safety valves" for venting (or blowing off a little steam) similar to those on the pressure cooker.  One of those safety valves is tears.

For most of his life, my father was not a believer.  When I was six years old, he derided me for crying about something, and he did so in a particularly caustic manner in front of others.  I was so impacted by his unkind words that for the rest of my growing up years, I almost never cried.  I could go for years on end and never cry - neither publicly nor privately.  When he walked me down the aisle as a bride of barely eighteen, he had tears rolling down both cheeks, but I did not shed a single tear.

In other words, in order to try to prove that I was stronger than any pressure my father could place on me, I shut myself off from one of the safety valves God has given us with which to defuse our anxiety, express our sorrow and even demonstrate our joy; and I did so to my detriment.  I had confused stoicism with strength.  It was no fun.

Tears.  As humans, we have the unique ability to weep, to cry over pain, suffering, and injustice.  Or simply to cry because we are sad, or scared, or angry.  It is natural, and it is often the only reasonable response to what is going on in our world or in our lives. 

Job said, "... my eyes pour out tears to God." (Job 16:20)

David, the mighty warrior, nevertheless wrote, "... all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears." (Psa. 6:6) NIV

And these tears are not despised by God, for David also wrote to the Lord, "...list my tears on your scroll, are they not in your record?"  or as the KJV puts it, "...put thou my tears into thy bottle."  (Psa. 56:8) We only bottle that which has value - bottled perfume, water, medicine.

Tears are sometimes not only appropriate, but necessary.  After all, even "Jesus wept." (John 11:35)  It was the only appropriate response on that occasion.

Jeremiah was known as the "weeping prophet" - and a more lachrymose person could hardly be found.  But it was not self-indulgence, or foolish emotionalism, that caused his tears.  He wept because he cared deeply, and thus he said, " Oh that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears!  I would weep day and night for the slain of my people."  (Jer. 9:1)

Those who cannot weep, rarely know how to express great joy.  But those who learn to cry when it hurts, can also laugh when it doesn't; they are able to weep with those who weep and rejoice with those that rejoice.

One of the wisest men who ever lived, king Solomon, wrote, "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven  ... a time to weep and a time to laugh...". (Eccl. 3: 1, 4)

Physical tears are a natural bodily fluid.  We are designed to cry through the function of the lachrymal glands and our tear ducts.   When the body cannot produce enough tears, some people have to use an artificial product, like Refresh Tears, in order to keep their eyes from becoming dry and irritated. 

In our spirits, when we stifle our God-given ability to shed necessary tears, we allow the pressure in our lives to build up beyond the "safety" level.  Our souls become dry and irritated.  Every silly thing that someone else says or does gets on our very last nerve.  Sooner or later, something is going to give.  No one has ever been bruised by getting hit with a tear; but some have been deeply hurt by angry words or mean-spirited actions.  There is such a thing as "having a good cry" - because weeping keeps our hearts softer before God and toward others. 

It is hard to make a fist when you are busy blowing your nose!

Now, the older I become, the more I am moved to tears - and I do not stifle them.  The beauty of a sunrise, the glory of a garden, or the pain of a loved one's illness, the loss of a friend, these are all legitimate causes for tears.  I am not talking about wallowing, but rather about healthy weeping.

I no longer fear crying as a sign of weakness.  I am reassured by God's word that " ... weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning."  (Psa. 30:5) KJV

I don't explode very often either.  I could be wrong, but I am pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that I cry more and cringe less.  In other words, I allow the safety ventilation of a good cry to help me cope with life's pressures.  Big girls don't cry?  Nonsense!  Mature women do.

We will not always need tears.  Revelation tells us that in that new day, in that new place,  "God will wipe away every tear."  (Rev. 21:4)  We will no longer need tears because there will be no more pain or sorrow.  What a joyful promise that is!

But between now and then, why not allow yourself to use one of God's best inventions for the release of, and relief from, stress? Tears!  He made them for a purpose - let us use the ability to weep with purposeful humility.  God bless you. ...Marsha Y.

(Life Is a Pressure Cooker - Part Three)   Stay tuned ...