Tag Archives: humanity

Grace and Mercy

Grant me grace that I may understand what is happening

to me, to my people, to my community, to the world.

Have mercy on me when I harm others

in anger, because I didn’t think it through, because I’m human.

Grant me grace to know when I have wronged someone

so that I may apologize, make reparations, ask forgiveness.

Grant them grace to know that I am human, bound to make mistakes.

Allow them opportunity and willingness to grant me mercy

so that love, like kintsugi, can heal the wound with value and beauty.

Grant me grace that I may continue to strive towards peace

Please grant me mercy when I love imperfectly or refuse given love

and the grace to admit I’m talented at doing both of those.

A Meeting with the Spirit of God

Okay, so it’s not like I called God up and asked to meet for a cup of coffee, that is true, but what did happen felt like I could have been doing just that.

I went to orientation as a lay-chaplain today which included getting a spiffy new badge with my broken nose-tape picture on it. My name as well as VOLUNTEER prominently displayed. I spoke with the HR person while she assembled the necessary paperwork. She was far more stressed than I was because she felt like I needed to be out of her office ASAP. I didn’t feel the same way. I figured it would be done exactly when it needed to be. And, as it turned out, it was.

I met with the lead Chaplain SL who was training me. She took me up to the charting room where we gathered necessary supplies. She showed me how to keep the records which involves room numbers and a general description of the visit. She gave me cards that are to be left if the person is sleeping so they know where to call if they need spiritual support.

We then stopped at the nurse’s station, got information about the patients on the floor (which I wrote down), then we went to the first person’s door.

Praying hands

There sat the Spirit of God in a hospital gown too big to fit the slender body it was covering. A meal sat nearly untouched on the table in front of them. As they related the story of why they were in the hospital, my heart wrenched with compassion. I know it sounds a bit arrogant to tell the Spirit I understand, but I really do. I was able to meet God’s Spirit in such a way that I watched their shoulders visibly relax. To hear the laughter that I was able to coax from their lips was angelic. As my guide and I went to leave the room, I reminded the Spirit of God how loved they were. Thank you was returned with sincerity.

At each room we visited, we engaged with a different version of God’s Spirit. I was asked to lead a prayer, which frankly intimidated me because I’m rather private about my talks with my vision of God, but I did it. It wasn’t as smooth and flowing as SL, but it was sufficient enough for this face of God to Amen throughout my version of prayer. I reminded them of how loved they are and ended it in Jesus’ name which felt alien on my lips, but in this neck of the woods it is a Hallmark.

I hope you have felt this way at some point in your life; like you were doing exactly what you were supposed to be doing exactly the way it was meant to be done by YOU. A feeling that leaves your soul fluffy with grace, compassion, and overwhelming kindness, almost like I feel when I go to church and feel the love there.

I had a meeting with God’s Spirit today in many different bodies. Some were awake, aware, and lively. Some were intubated, refused a visit, or were sedated heavily to help them through their crisis. One face was not in this world but was lost in the colors of flowers and what everyone’s favorite was so they could bring them the next time we visited.

To say that I felt broken open would be a bit of an understatement. I didn’t feel broken, I felt like I was finally rising to the task of my soul in an entirely different way. It was rich with experience, understanding, and a conscious bonding to injured spirits.

I may never experience those Spirits of God again, but today I did. May I never forget who I’m talking to when I serve as a lay-chaplain to those incarnations.

May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved.

Vampire Brain

Ever since I redundantly discovered gravity, I’ve been having weird things happen. From getting violently sick to throwing myself into the closet in my sleep. I’ve been tending to repeat stories. I’ve been tending to repeat stories (heehee). And the headache feels like a hangover that won’t go away. At least that is now a low-grade feeling now as long as I’m religious about the tylenol.

The most inconvenient of the side effects has been sleeping. I’ve discovered by trial and error that I need to stay as unstimulated as possible (within reason). Overstimulation makes my head hurt more, essentially wiping out my spoons.

I purposefully saved up my spoons to go visit with my Beastie Diane. I brought over gifts for her and her puppers. I also brought my laundry. I got the clothes in the washer, sat down on the couch to chat with Diane and engaged in lively conversation. I heard the washer sing after it was done. I put the clothes in the dryer.

I returned to my seat on the couch, popped up the feet and shared more conversation. She likes to watch true crime shows and comedies. Today was a marathon of murders. The victim was white. I blinked my eyes and the victim was black. I had fallen asleep for over an hour. She was able to take a shower, clean her bunny room, and take care of other chores she had.

Dudes, I was so embarrassed. It’s just not something I expected. I have been falling asleep more frequently and for longer periods, but I’d purposefully prepared. It wasn’t enough. She thought it was amusing so she didn’t wake me. I still snore though but she said it wasn’t as loud as it used to be. I guess that’s a plus.

I need to grant myself grace. I didn’t have a light head injury. I broke four bones in my face. My brain rattled around in my skull pretty good which is probably where the headaches are coming from. It’s hard to discover limitations that weren’t there before. It’s difficult to accept that this is not something I have control over.

Abiding is all I can do. Laugh at the ridiculousness of my life while loving myself. Forgive myself for my tendency to repeat stories. (Buwahahaha!)

May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved.

Always Dying

“For when is death not within ourselves? Living and dead are the same, and so are awake and asleep, young and old.”

Heracutus

My recent explorations of the world have given me a gift. It’s shown me that life is filled with experiences that we create, that happen, or that we observe “in the wild.” Filled to the brim with an emotional connection to how things work, how we process, and meet the situation it’s intoxicating, intimidating, and exhilarating.

In all the living that is to be done, death lurks. It’s always there with a potential to manifest unexpectedly. In a way, living fully, saying yes to new things, learning what knowledge can be found, following your arrow wherever it points are all death defying, or maybe a better term would be death defining.

At the end of my days, I want to be able to look back over my life and know that I lived a good life filled with human moments. I want to look at the mistakes that I’ve made and know that, at the time, I made the best possible decision with the information I had. I want to be able to tell stories of a life well lived. I want to be the best me possible.

Knowing that this could be my last day or even part of a day of my life motivates me to strive towards being immortal. Not in the sense that I will physically be alive, but that what I do in my life will be talked about by people; my friends, loved ones, and those in the wider community. I want to create a legacy of love, kindness, compassion, service, and be known for my sense of humor.

Death is going to happen. The age of death is an exclusive personal interpretation. But while I can, while I’m still breathing and have opportunities, I want to live as fully as humanly possible. When the inevitable happens, I want to know I’ve accomplished a good life. This tracks. So far, so good.

Notice your moments. Move forward with grace and mercy. Don’t give your power to what if’s and what was. This is it. Be love. Do peace. Create Joy.

May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved.

A hobby interest

I was chatting with my friend Professor Pudgytums about things we were doing in our lives. I was creating art, traveling, and working. He was working, traveling, and picking up new hobbies.

He has done fencing, trapeze, racquetball, and a variety of other interesting activities. His latest interest is book binding. He was interested enough to share some of what he was learning.

I sent him two books I have in storage and requested he practice on them. He didn’t feel confident enough to agree, but I sent them just in case.

Then I thought about it. I have an entire library of books primarily on death and dying. I have others, but I want to learn more about a topic I’m interested in like him.

To hold a book, yes I also have a Kindle, is to feel the heft of the words, the thoughts, the desires, the emotions, and entire imagination pinned down in time by someone who didn’t give up. It’s almost holy in a way.

Wait. I have two books that I sent to someone else. Why the farts couldn’t I do that for myself? What do I need to know to do this? I asked the oracle (YouTube).

It’s involved and takes skills that are a challenge. Is it something that I can figure out and learn? I think so.

The writing for one of the books is complete and the art is being created. The second book is complete and ready to go other than formatting. Yes, I’m really going to try it. I have a sneaking suspicion I’m going to love it.

May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!

Ravenous

The soul eats time ravenously

savoring the flavors of the tempest

diving into the depths of despair

Flying with euphoric joy

Bathing in love with bubbling compassion

Filling buckets of companionship

Devouring knowledge of experiences

Exuding the light of the spirit into dark corners

Rampaging through injustice covered in battle armor

dressed in the scars of survival

Striding towards purpose

Hat out as the soul sings a song, waiting for change

Love the binding that holds tight the life

Dress for the World

The skirt swayed as she sashayed.

The exceptionally white sneakers whispered by.

The heavily colored scarf blistered the neutral blazer.

The jacket’s sleeves tattled the height of the man.

The pants creases were crisp as the autumn air.

The plaid shirt the only color besides his eyes.

The thigh high fishnets slendered her legs beneath her shorts.

The heavy black boots complimented the fashion statement.

The only pajama pants were on tourists with America emblazoned.

They were fish out of water in a sea of dressing for the world.

One Joy

I was speaking with my mother the other day while she giggled about the antics of her dog, my boyfriend, Apollo aka Pol. He kept going from food to toy, couch to floor, reveling in his dog-ness.

“One joy at a time is all he can handle!” She exclaimed.

It made me think about that phrase. One joy at a time.

In a society that revels in multi-tasking, demanding everything be done all at once despite our chronic limitations, Pol teaches an important lesson. We only have what is right in front of us right this moment. Thinking ahead takes away from what we’re doing. Going over things we’ve done is redundant (redundant) (heehee). This is it.

I used to think that somewhere along the line I’d be given a key/playbook/how-to or something that would show or tell me how to do things. Because of that belief, I looked forward to the day that would happen. As naive as that sounds now, I really thought that’s how adults who “have their shit together” got that way.

I no longer believe that, but what I’ve discovered is that the big picture is great as far as a guidebook goes, but, like Miss Marge taught me, keep moving (even if it’s a sidestep). Take a bite of the moment and savor it as if it were the most wonderful thing you’ve ever experienced. In reality, it is. No matter what is happening, however you percieve it, it IS something never done before in your lifetime, not like this. Not in this moment.

You may have fed your children or your dog a thousand times, but what if this was the last time you were able to do that whether something happened to them or you? Would you feel regretful that you didn’t “do more” or “pay attention better?” Chances are likely, yes.

Each moment is unique to us individually. I read about how a rainbow can never be perceived the same way even if you’re standing next to each other because the light refracts in such a way that what I see isn’t what you see even though we’re looking at the same thing at the same time.

This flows in congruency with our life experiences. This is what we have. This is what we’re doing. This is our perception of time. Because of this, we can take the lesson of Apollo, One Joy at a Time.

May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved.

I had a dream…

I went to church on Sunday. I gave our interim minister a holy water hanging made of hand painted porcelain from Portugal. I gave an origional watercolor from a street artist depicting the city with the bridge, made by the same designer of the Golden Gate bridge to one of my clients. I gave a tile drawing kit to his wife. I gave the requested magnets and a bonus keychain with my tile design on it to another of my friends. I returned the book on Paris to my Auntie.

The speaking pastor was from the UUA and he was really good. I enjoyed his sermon immensely.

I got to hug and be hugged. I got to love and feel loved. Emotionally and spiritually I was doing great. There was a fundraising lunch after the service to benefit Fruit for Kids that makes sure children in our area schools get healthy choices. I enjoyed a soup (one of the few things I can eat right now) and had an Always Beautiful moment with the maker of that soup.

After everything was done, I wasn’t feeling too well so I went home to take a nap before I was supposed to head over to my Beastie Diane’s house. Then things went amiss.

I was in my shower enjoying the hot water when I started to feel ill. I turned my head and got sick into the water. I turned back and realized I was wet and that I wasn’t actually in the shower. I’d been sick all over my pillowcase and sweater. Dang it.

I texted Diane to see what time I could come over but she was having a bad day and asked to change it. Well crap. I called another friend who offered their washer and dryer. Excellent. I went over, watched a show called Reservation Dogs (It’s an FX show and is really funny and a good watch.) Laundry done, I headed home with my little dog in tow.

Later that night, Diane messaged me that she couldn’t find her bunny anywhere. She was more distraught and crying. I dropped what I was doing and headed to her house. I couldn’t find that bunny anywhere in the house. I searched high and low but to no avail. I went outside and checked under the first deck, no dice. I climbed as far as I could under the second deck and there he was just minding his bunny business.

After several attempts to corral him, offerings of apples, carrots, and celery, he still wouldn’t budge. A few pokes by a stick got him running the wrong way. As I crawled out from under the deck, I spotted him running up the hill towards the vast back yard. I hollered and pointed him out. Diane went after him trying to catch him, but he freaked out and took off running.

I climbed up the stairs on the other side of the yard and cooed to him, speaking gently in a quiet manner. He came over to where I was and waited for me to pick him up. Man, I snuggled the crap out of Bunbun. He seemed relieved.

Bunny safely inside his room (She has no idea how he got out of the house, I suspect he learned the doggie door), I hugged her goodbye and went home at about 11 and by 11:30 I was asleep.

I was standing on the edge of a southwestern canyon. I could see the blue skies above me and the red and gold earth below my feet. The sun was shining, inviting me to spread my wings and fly. The wind enticed me to the edge. I looked down and knew with all my heart I was going to experience a euphoria I’d never learned. I jumped…

I landed on my shoulder and hit my poor head on the floor of my closet. My bed showed no evidence of a struggle. It looked like I’d pulled back the blankets neat as you please. I must have yelled out because Matthew, my nephew/son was at my bedroom door pretty quickly asking if I was alright. After I caught my breath, I affirmed my being okay and embarrassed returned to bed.

Just before 9AM I woke up. I knew I was going to be late for the breakfast date I’d made, so I quickly texted and got dressed. I took care of my morning routine and headed out the door. By the time I got to where I was going, I was having a hard time lifting my arm very far and if I tried lifting anything, it was popping up to a 5. I ignored it, I mean, I was trying to fly for Pete’s sake.

Plans made to get with my doctor and decide further care, it occurred to me that I wasn’t feeling well…again. I kept my next appointment but confessed I wasn’t up to par. Another adjustment and I agreed to head to the ER.

I went home to lay down for a bit before going. I was tired and didn’t feel like moving. My bestie Jen came over and hounded me until I got out of bed. We headed to downtown Knoxville.

As I sat waiting for an x-ray, a man came and sat next to me while his wife was getting her x-ray done. She’d broken her spine, was clausterphobic and they had to put a brace on her. As he told me what she was going through, I asked him how he was doing. He seemed surprised. He was struggling with emotions. I asked if I could do anything to help ease his worries. He asked me to pray for his wife. I prayed for both of them. He reached over and squeezed my hand. He thanked me as he left with his wife. Pictures of my own were taken.

Off to the CT to get imaging done on my face. As I waited for my turn, a young man, late teens maybe, was sitting to my left. He was pleasant and chatty. He told me he had nothing to eat but ritz crackers for three days and he couldn’t keep those down for long. He was hooked up to saline and some other bag that I couldn’t read.

“I’m here with my mom and dad,” He told me. “I’m really scared it’s something bad.”

“What if it is?” I asked him.

“I just don’t want more needles and I don’t want to make my mom and dad worry.” he answered. “If it’s bad, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“My friend Miss Marge lived to be 101 years old. She said the secret to a long life was to keep moving, even if it’s a sidestep. If it’s bad, you can only move through it no matter the outcome. I can’t promise you you’ll be okay, but I can promise you that the fact your parents are out there waiting to hear word of you shows great devotion. You are clearly loved.”

He smiled at me. A look of accepted relief washed over his face. “Yeah, I am. Thanks. Are you okay?”

“You should see the other guy!” I quipped. We laughed at my foolishness. The attendant called his name.

“Thanks for talking with me.” He stated as he pulled the IV tree with him.

“Any time.”

The two conversations I had with these people felt so deep and real. Vulnerable in a bad situation but comforting in our company together. It was more satisfying than going to church (some Sundays) in my spirit. I felt like a conduit, not the one actually speaking.

HOURS LATER:

A doctor finally came in to see me, made a plan, then left quickly. In his defense, there were so many people there. A phone conversation I overheard was by a woman who had gone to the hospital in Oak Ridge (I absolutely refuse to go there because they tend to not take good care of people). That hospital told her she had a herniated disc but she didn’t think it was right. It turns out she fractured her spine in two places and was going in for surgery. Yeah, that’s why I was where I was an not in my hometown hospital.

A plastic surgeon came in to set my nose and remove my stitches from my lip. The lip was a cake walk. Snip and done. The nose, on the other hand, good Dude in a handbasket.

They had to inject numbing into my nose, the floor of my nasal cavity, and up the sides of my schnozz. “Be still,” He told me. “You’re going to feel a little pinch.” Pinch my ass!! He didn’t but JEEHOSEPHATS! I wish to Dude he’d had said: This is going to hurt quite a bit, but you need to stay as still as possible.

I nearly came up swinging when the first needle went into my face. By the time the third one was being placed in the floor of my left nostril, I was weeping and shaking as if I were in a Michigan winter with no coat on. How I kept my head still, I don’t know, but the rest of me looked like a beached fish flailing about while the doctor’s reassured me I was doing fine.

They put a metal tool up my nose and pushed until I heard a pop in my face. Although mostly numb, it was by far not my favorite moment since I first injured my face. They put a splint up my nose to hold the septum straight and put a brace on the outside of my nose. It could have been worse. I moved through it and abided the best I could considering.

My nose is now set and quite lovingly braced. (insert eyeroll here). They tidied up and left with instructions of a soft food diet, don’t lay on my back unless propped up, and to see the plastic surgeon in 7 days. I wish I felt more warmth towards them doing their job, but I could barely see through my tears.

The first doctor came back in and said although I had no breaks in the bones of my shoulder and hadn’t dislocated it, there was obviously some damage. He thinks I did some soft tissue damage and possibly messed up the rotator cuff again. Great.

I look like I was in a doozy of a fight, but despite all the shenanigans and the ungodly amount of time spent in the ER, I have referrals to the doctors I need to see, financial aid papers to fill out, and now the healing begins in earnest.

How can you thank someone who would sit with you while you endured the ups and downs of medical issues? How can I show my gratitude for being so loved? What can I give that will demonstrate the level of trust and devotion I have for someone who would do that for me?

Jen, if you’re reading this, know that you have my heart, my devotion, my love, and my loyalty because you have given it so willingly, openly, and honestly to me. I know you have my back no matter what. It’s surprising to be able to call you up and know that no matter what, you’re there. I hope I don’t have to ever watch you suffer as you have me, but if you ask (and probably even if you don’t), you have my truest devotion. Thank you for being you so well, so honestly, and so truly.

For the rest of you, may peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved!

Day Fourty-Eight, To Home and Back

I had so much trouble going to sleep last night. I was experiencing so many different emotions. From anxiety, to excitement, all the way to sadness and a reminder that being in the moment is necessary.

I woke up at 7AM (3AM Tennessee time), loaded my bags onto the dock and made my last trip up to the Galp station for a double espresso and a croissant. The driver couldn’t find me and he didn’t speak any English. The woman with the beautifully wild hair was kind enough to translate and the driver found me.

I loaded up the trunk and we headed to the airport. We could barely communicate but we used the translator and laughed hysterically at the ridiculous translation. He dropped me off and I put my luggage on a buggy. I stood outside the airport, reluctant to enter.

I was unsure of what to do. I mean, get on the plane and fly home, obviously, but I didn’t want to give up the time that I’d spent in a different world. I finally relented and stepped into the airport.

The process wasn’t confusing, really. Some dude grabbed my cart and asked me where I was going. A policeman shook his head no and pointed at the dude. I thanked him and took my buggy to the check in point. I had two bags to check and a backpack that I picked up as my carryon. But…you can’t put a computer through in your checked bags so I had to buy another bag to store my electronics. For the record, spend the money on good luggage. Do not skimp or you’ll end up with flat tires that don’t roll.

Bags checked, carry on over my shoulder and I had to walk to the very last gate at the other end of the airport. Abuh. Good for the butt, I thought. I purchased a soda and a snack while I waited the two hours for the flight. Security was pretty easy to get through. I didn’t even have to take off my shoes.

Boarding the plane was easy too. They scanned the boarding pass and checked my passport.

The seats sort of looked like lawn chairs and were about as comfortable. Buckled in and ready to fly, I was dizzy and nauseous. I fought with it the entire flight. If I lean forward, my lip stings and my head gets light. I know, don’t lean forward. No matter which position I sat in, I just couldn’t get comfortable.

Arrival in Philly was different. Customs, claims, declarations, confusion. I didn’t feel competent but I made it through. By the time I reached the gate I was so dizzy. I asked the customer service for an ice pack for my face. They were so accomodating and nice. Thank you American Airlines.

The connecting flight had way better seats and far more legroom. I listened to music since the wi-fi wouldn’t connect and jammed out to my favorite songs. The flight was only two hours, but it was totally comfortable.

Arrival in Knoxville was coming home in such a different way. My friend Diane said I’d be changed by my travels. She said I’d never be the same. I understand now. I get it. I am different. But, as I’ve described before, home is where I am. Here, in my home, I can be all of me, express my ideas, share in stories, be a part of life.

I was more of an observer, and explorer of cultures. I saw things I only dreamed about. I tasted some phenomenal foods from all different culinary experts. I stayed in a quiet apartment. I stayed in a tiny condo. I lived on a boat. I wouldn’t trade anything for what I’ve been through.

I’m dizzy, nauseous, and I need to sleep in my own bed. My pup and kitty curled up next to me, my son sleeping on his cot in the livingroom. Life is good.

May peace be with you wherever you are or go. You are loved. Welcome home.