Live or Die

Planes and Surgery....those two events always prompt me to assess my life in grave and serious ways. 

I really hate heights, much less hurtling through space in a little metal tube. Everybody around me looks cool and collected, bored even. They don't want me chatting them up, I've found. My kids have informed me that it is simply not done these days. I beg to differ. My whole life has been interesting because of all the wonderful, intriguing strangers I've met, who've been happy to tell me their life stories and birth experiences. Even if they are reluctant to talk at first, they usually end up spilling the beans on their innermost secrets. Occasionally, however, you just can't crack open those tough ones and I'm relegated to silence and my own thoughts of how I'm soon going to die in a fiery plane crash. And then there's trying to squeeze my abundant frame into the smallest possible space, trying not to lop over onto the other passengers. By the time I arrive at my destination, I have heartburn and muscle spasms. This is not fun.

And then there's the subject of surgery. I had a major one this last week, with a very large incision from hip to hip. I spent the days and weeks before it, pondering life and death and the end of civilization as we know it. I have found the best way to go under the knife is to be ready to die. Go ahead and go there. Make peace with all, spend time in the scriptures, pray a lot, confess my sins, have a clear view of my place with God, and then surrender to that anesthesia. I'm always surprised when I wake up. Then comes the pain and I wonder what in the heck I did this for. I was planning on death, not misery and suffering and learning how to go to the bathroom again. I have no right to complain -- my dear husband is the best nurse in the world and he took off a week to care for me. He's a much better physical caregiver than I. He thinks about things like a cool washcloth on the forehead, a fresh cup of icewater, putting meds on an actual schedule (rather than my random plan of waiting until I'm screaming in pain to take something). It's been a sweet week of spending time with him, though closings and real estate wait for no one, so he's helped me with that too.

Planes and surgeries, things looming at the edge of the universe. In truth, every day is a gazing at the precipice of eternity, 'cause we never know when our time's up. Our choices: we can live in cowering, perpetual fear of the unknown or we can just go ahead and really live and suck the marrow out of the day. Here's to life!

Sally Forth...

 With the sweet, cool air that wafted in right behind Hurricane Sally this week, I felt my heart go calm at the same time. It wasn't the weather, though I'll take it. I had a day from the underworld, where I was driving like mad all over Atlanta, multi-tasking, calling, voice-texting and more, to catch up with my post-vacation workload and lots of personal things that needed dealing with. Before and aft, I was throwing up prayers, asking God to help me, for Him to do the things that it would take for it all to work. I felt a little like I was in the Red Sea, with the waves parting just in time to give me safe passage, and then them crashing behind me while I sped down a nice, dry path in the middle. Either side of me threatened to murder me, the best thing to do being to keep my eyes on the Lord. The entire day was like the running of a gauntlet, and God kept right on ushering me through. One of those times when you can hear Him whisper, see Him move the chess pieces. He doesn't always do it that way, but I started out like a squalling baby so I guess He decided I needed a break.

Sometime during the maelstrom of my personal hurricane, I felt the calm at the eye of it. I had an epiphany...it's been two years since my darling Daddy died suddenly, and for the first time, I was able to accept that he is where he is supposed to be. Literally in the middle of this hellish day, I at once knew that he was okay, and that it was okay for me to accept that. Death brings many things, but often guilt or regret. Or it raises up the places where we haven't dealt with our relationships. Thankfully, I have few regrets or guilt when it comes to my Pa, but the wake of his passing sucked my heart to the depths, trying to figure out this hole in the universe that shouldn't be there. There I was, stuck on 285 with a thousand cars whizzing by, crying, singing and raising my hands in surrender (one at a time, ya'll). I think I will forever remember that moment, its sweetness and peace.

Funny how storms come in and wreck everything, then we have to tear down what's left and then rebuild. Better make sure that foundation's not made of sand...

Recovering From Vacation

 We rolled back into Georgia, salty, sandy and exhausted. Pa drove like a bat outa you-know-where, just trying to make it home before sleep overtook him. We had been napping all week at the beach and mid-afternoon called like a siren. Somehow, we made it back in one piece. My daughter and new son-in-love squeezed out from the mountain of luggage and headed back to their house. I'm always amazed at all the trees and greenery that greet us after our annual beach trip. Visitors to our fine state always comment on our leafy habitat. I don't think about it much until I come back from other places, then am in awe at the lush bounty awaiting. 

The old house is musty as we come in. It forgets that people live here, when we go away. It takes it a couple of days to let go of the ancient dust. I light candles and diffuse essential oils, bringing it back to life. I guess I'll open the place up, even though Hurricane Sally is bringing the Gulf right on up here to rain on us. I also always forget how beautiful my house is, then walk from room to room looking at the amazing wood on the floors and the wavy stained glass beaming at me. I'm always glad that somehow it didn't burn down while we were gone. Nothing is forever, but I'd like it to last another century.

Monday comes and I hit the floor running. There's a lot on my plate, too much to bear sometimes, and there's nothing like a nice, long vacation to make you forget all that. There should be a law that we get a second week to do nothing, after we get back home. Either way, the work doesn't sleep and I'm hoofing it to get back some sort of equilibrium. Pa and I bought a camper that I'm going to overhaul. It's sitting out in the driveway, waiting for me to kiss it with vintage-colored paints and fabrics. I've bought supplies and they're piled up in the carport, but there's property to be sold and folks to be helped. I'll think about it tomorrow. But you know I'd rather be painting.

Vacation Thoughts...

We are spending the week at the beach with our grown children and (not grown) grandchildren. The grands are about to overtake us -- there's 8 of them and 2 on the way. Next year, that means there will be 10 adults and 10 kiddos. Meanwhile, it's the sweetest time of the year when we get to hang out, all 18 of us, all at the same house. We've done this for many years, since they decided to grow up. 

It's all different now. I remember the days of years past, when we had days filled with sandcastles and sunburn at the beach. Now, I see my grown family all occupied with their littles, existing from one meal to the next, diapers and equipment galore, but each year bringing everyone bigger, funnier and more complicated. I enjoy every minute, taking in all the nuances of life that I know will pass oh too quickly. Tomorrow they'll be grown and starting the next cycle. 

This year, we have those two babies baking in their proverbial ovens. It will all change next year. Funny how life revolves...how the earth turns and brings a new wave with it. My children are, thankfully, awesome and as funny as comedians. Sarcasm is our family language, right along with deep, thoughtful theology and the walk and talk of real, raw Christianity. There are saints here, but none of them saintly. The apples don't fall far from the trees. I always end the week feeling not rested, not relaxed, but full to the brim with life and ribs hurting from laughing. 

The empty nest is simply a conundrum. The pressure is off, so many memories in the rear-view mirror. There are so many angles to take -- living sad for what is now gone, living frantic in trying to make a new path, or living with wings while enjoying what was and what will be. The energy emanating from these young folk can be overwhelming, but also energizing. God knew what He was doing when He gave children to the young. Children are a blessing from the Lord, the most wonderful of treasures. And in these crazy times, so are the simple pleasures of a communal meal, a patch of beach, a flotilla of kids in a pool. I reach across to Papa Bear and touch his big paw, a moment passing between us of sheer, blissful thankfulness. God is good.