Tuesday Reflection: Recovering

Dear Friends, I pray you are all well, but the reality is that we are always in some stage of healing and recovery. 

For my husband and myself the most obvious reason for recovery is the flu. While we have removed the pretend "quarantine" sign from our front door and are back into the world, our pace is slower and more measured and our days continue to include rest periods. This has been quite the siege. 

For most of last week we moved from couch to chair to bed, dragging boxes of Kleenex with us along with mugs of hot liquids. We napped and read and watched all the seasons of Downton Abbey again and ate lightly, and every night we wondered if the next day would mean feeling better. We told our daughter who brought soup to leave it at the front door and run! She disobeyed, of course, coming inside to check on us. We set aside concerns about Christmas tasks and instead, put up our feet, books on our laps, in the glow of our Christmas tree lights. 

Now that we are at the improved and improving stage comes a new test. When you are truly down, sick, rather than not so sick, it is easier to make decisions about what you can do and what you can't and how you feel and how you don't. Now, however, as you heal and recover, temptations abound, especially with Christmas Eve eight days away. There is the need to do one more thing, to stretch beyond what seems smart. 

This is the time when it is important to really listen to your body. This is the time to be gentle with yourself. Yes, you probably could do one more thing, but is it the wise thing to do, the healing thing to do? Of course, there is the possibility of being self-indulgent, but really, how often do you actually do that? More than likely, you set high standards for yourself of what you "should" do, and now is not the time to worry about your self-imposed expectations. Yes, it is good to stretch, to pay attention to the signs of improvement, to be aware of tugs of normalcy, but make sure the drill sergeant inside isn't barking orders. 

Now is the time to stop and listen, to pause, to reflect, to ask yourself, "How am I really doing?" and "What do I really need?" 

Dear Friends, each one of us is always in some stage of healing and recovery. Only you know where you are. Sit with your own healing and be gentle with yourself.

May all be well. 

May the God who listens to our hearts and enters into our pain bless us and all who are in need with the comfort and quiet of Her gentle presence, now and always. Amen

                              Marchiene Vroon Rienstra

An Invitation

Where are you in the healing and recovery process? Are you aware of when you need to be gentle with yourself and when you need to stretch beyond yourself? I would love to know. 

Tuesday's Reflection: Healing

I had my last appointment yesterday morning with my orthopedic surgeon, the doc who operated on my broken ankle at the end of March. I must admit I didn't expect this would be my last appointment--not because I have been experiencing increased pain or recurring problems with my ankle, for that has not been the case, but because I had thought my appointment in September would be my last. This time I set aside my expectations, only hoping more healing and improvement would be recognized.

Although some healing still needs to occur, I don't have to return unless problems develop. 

You know the Christmas carol "The Twelve Days of Christmas"? Well, I felt like the Lords A-Leapin'. A sense of euphoria.  I immediately felt lighter and stronger, and even more flexible. I felt as if I had graduated to a new state of ease and surety. Not that I won't continue to be extra careful. I promise you I will, but I don't feel injured any more. I don't even feel quite as old any more. 

Did my bones suddenly knit together completely as I walked from my car into the medical building? Did the remaining occasional swelling melt into the atmosphere as I walked into the x-ray room? Did the slight stiffness dissipate as I took off my sock for the doc to examine my ankle? No, to all those questions, but I physically felt some mending in my mind when I was told I don't need another appointment. 

Suddenly, breaking my ankle felt like an event in the past, rather than part of my current story, and that feels important. Rather than coping with a broken ankle now, I recall breaking my ankle nine months ago and moving through all the stages of healing. 

That was then and this is now.

I feel a bit more whole. True, I still often need to go down steps each foot on each step, and true, I don't yet have the full stamina, the ability to stand or walk for as long as I did before the accident. Some days a limp is detected, and I am always grateful for my husband's arm as we maneuver across an icy parking lot, and I remain puzzled by inquiries about how the accident occurred that seemed to imply I could have prevented it. However, I am now living my life in an easier fashion, and I don't feel as defined by an injury as I felt in the past months. 

So what did I learn? Well, there were many opportunities to learn patience and acceptance, along with lessons about receiving help and kindness of others. I learned how to be clearer in what I needed. I learned how quickly one's situation can change, and I learned to adapt to this particular change, which I hope will benefit me when faced with future changes. 

I slowed my pace and became more aware of where each step took me. The ordinary became more extraordinary. The light and love in my life seemed brighter and more all-encompassing. I was more able to touch all the reasons to be grateful in my life. 

Obviously, I am thrilled to be at this stage of healing, to be this many months away from the event, but it was just one event in my life. One with temporary consequences. Life has continued as I have healed, and while I have not always been able to participate in the life around me as fully as I would have liked, my life has not been on back order.  

I learned to be present to each step. 

May that be so. 

An Invitation

What opportunities have entered your life --unbidden or welcomed--to learn how to be present to each step? Are there past events that need to be in the past? In what ways do you put your life on "back order" and how might you become more present to your whole life? Now. I would love to know. 

Tuesday's Reflection: Time Heals All Wounds

Almost eleven weeks ago I fell and broke my ankle and slowly but yes, surely, I am healing. I have only two more sessions with my physical therapist, and the goal is to be limp free when I wave goodbye to her. Now when I catch a glimpse of myself in a glass door or store window, I am shocked by how old I look, in spite of my chic animal print cane. I limp. I limp and yet, I have not returned from a war. I just fell--no glamour, no service to my country, no interesting story. I just fell and now I limp, but at some point I won't. In time I won't.  

For the most part I think I have handled this time in my life with grace, but there have been moments of discouragement, despair, and boredom. That seems to happen when the healing process is more subtle, as it has been recently. Each visible, tangible change, such as the first time I dressed myself without help, was thrilling. Going up and down steps, inside and outside the house, felt like a miracle, totally expanding my world. Then being allowed to drive the car, first with the boot and then without. In fact, I no longer wear the boot, and rarely, do I use the cane.

And yet, there is still stiffness and swelling, which means I wear an extremely tight, hot, and totally unattractive compression stocking.  I am unable to stack errands on top of each other, for I can't sustain the amount of walking that takes, and by the end of the day my leg throbs. Still, I now wake feeling energized and not just rested, and I am able to do much more in a day than I have been during the previous weeks.

I wonder, however, when I am fully healed what my pace will be. After the initial shock and adjustment, I thought I would use this time to do major work on a delayed writing project. I have done some, enough to know it still interests me, but still, I have not made much progress in that area. I thought I would plan how to start my spiritual direction practice here, along with starting a writing group and a spiritual retirement group--all ideas I had before we moved here, but now I wonder if I will, if those are ways I will want to use my time and energy. Do I really want to add that much activity back into my life or perhaps being involved with family and friends here, especially the grands, and doing some volunteering will be enough? My contentment level seems to have shifted--at least for now. Is this a foretaste of being much older--of my world getting smaller without regret?

 When I had uterine cancer surgery almost 12 years ago, I set such a clear goal and timeline for recovery because my mother's colon cancer had returned at the same time. I needed to heal quickly in order to be with her as an active part of her care taking team. My gynecologist cheered me on, but also said not to be surprised if at some point--probably after my mother died--I would relapse. That didn't necessarily mean more cancer, but my body would just let me know it had not fully recovered. When my mother died several months later, I wondered if my doc's words were prediction or permission. Either way, I took the time-out, and perhaps that is what this broken ankle time has been as well. Time-out after over a year of intense activity. 

I stopped --or was stopped--and now I am back to adding in more activity. I have started walking around the block, slowly, but happily. I am doing most of the house cleaning, except for vacuuming, and I no longer bundle reasons for going up and down the stairs, but just do it. I get up earlier and have much more variety in the day. I still listen carefully to my body, paying attention to signs I need to sit down, put my feet up, and even nap, and I hope I have become a better listener and responder to my body's needs. In many regards my life is back to normal, but I also realize how "normal" is always in flux. Perhaps that is one of the main lessons and gifts of this time. 

How often we hear the words, "It just takes time." Time to grieve. Time to see what the next step will be. Time to move on. Time to let things work out. Time to heal. I believe in the healing power of time, but time alone is not the answer. How do we let time work within and around us to create transformation? Do we step back and breathe as time marches on, whether we are ready or not? 

Time passes no matter what. There is nothing I could have done to have stopped this passage of time. I couldn't push a pause button and say, "When I am strong and healed again, then we can continue where we left off on March 25th." It is now June, almost the middle of June, and I had nothing to say about that, broken ankle or not. Here we are. Wow--here we are, and that is a very good thing. 

I have done the best I could during this time, and I am grateful for all the healing that has taken place, but I know there is still more physical healing that needs to happen, and I am willing to give it time. More time. 

An Invitation
What's your relationship to time? How has "time healed all wounds" in your life? I would love to know. 

Tuesday's Reflection: Stairs and Labyrinths

Thanks to my graduation from walker to cane and a boot on my broken ankle, I now go up, and I go down. Six weeks after surgery for a broken ankle, I can now go up to my office garret on the half story of our house, as well as go down to the lower level family room.

Step by step. 

Preparing
Standing at the bottom or the top of the stairs, I think about the many times I have walked a labyrinth. Before entering the labyrinth, I set an intention and offer a prayer for the journey. How appropriate that seems now. I have shown over the last weeks that I can live well on the first floor--with great help from my husband and other family and friends, of course. I adjusted to the space and gathered what I needed to live as fully as I could during those weeks of limitations and confinement. But now another kind of movement is possible and necessary. My intention is to rebond with other parts of the house, with other parts of myself, as well as to encourage my healing body to rebuild strength and stamina. I offer a prayer of trust, "May I trust the Holy beyond and within me to hold me securely," and one of gratitude, "May I be grateful for the ongoing healing of my body and spirit." 

Sometimes when I walk a labyrinth, I whisper a mantra, as I do for  centering prayer. My father's physical therapist when instructing him about going up and down stairs after he had surgery a year ago said, "Up with the good, down with the bad." The meaning, of course, is to step up with the strong leg, and when coming down to lead with the leg which has had surgery. Ah, my new mantra. "Up with the good, down with the bad."

The Way of the Labyrinth by Helen Curry advises, "Don't rush this moment. Let it fully envelop you. When the stillness is complete, the moment will follow, naturally and at its own pace." And so I prepare to leave one level and step by step move to another level. When ready, I use the handrails and my cane and proceed cautiously and slowly and in doing so, my physical world expands. Practical and yet profound movement. 

Doing It!
This, too, is holy. As I move with great attention or "gracious attention," as Lauren Artress  says about walking a labyrinth, I realize step by step I am in the midst of a body prayer. My body is conversing with the Divine--amazement at how a body is capable of healing and a promise to take as good care of my body as I can. I move step by step, bringing my whole body, including my breath, to this process, taking nothing for granted. 

Sometimes when walking a labyrinth there is moment when I wonder if I will ever reach the center and then all of a sudden, I am there. That's how it seems with the stairs. Before beginning, the number of stairs feels a bit daunting, but then all of a sudden I am there! The moment is almost thrilling. I am here! I made it! 

           Solvitur ambulando….It is solved by walking. 
                                                            St Augustine

No doubt it will be awhile before I can tackle spring cleaning or go up and down the aisles of Target, but I can go up and down stairs and that feels major. Physical movement becomes spiritual movement.

An Invitation
What step by step journey have you been taking lately? In what ways has your body been your teacher and your guide? I would love to know.

Tuesday's Reflection: Coloring Mandalas

I broke my ankle four weeks ago. Since the surgery and coming home from the hospital, I have read nine books, started and rejected several others, paged through a pile of magazines, caught up on my email, including listening to a number of TED Talks and reading various blogs. I have watched movies on my laptop, since our television is in the lower level of the house, and also enjoyed once again all three seasons of the BBC series, Rosemary and Thyme. I have written thank you notes, paid bills, played solitaire on my i-phone, and napped in the afternoons--not every day, but often. I have written two posts for this blog each week, and I have resurrected a writing project started a year ago, but set aside when the pace of life picked up, beginning with my father's surgery late last spring. 

I have left the house only twice: once for a doctor's appointment and then Sunday for Easter brunch, thanks to the assistance from my husband, daughter and son-in-love, for it takes a village to support GrandNan. I was able to sit outside on our small front stoop one rare sunny, warm afternoon, and when a neighbor discovered I had a broken ankle, he said, "Well, at least you are not a horse or you would be glue." I will add, "I am not glue" to my gratitude list.

I have meditated and prayed and simply sat quietly watching the activity on our street. I have enjoyed company, as well as my solitude. 

Childhood Pleasures
However, anticipating my husband's departure for Madison Sunday afternoon, I thought about what I could add to my repertoire of ways to keep myself entertained and occupied. One can only read and write so much. I thought about activities I loved as a child, such as biking, ice skating, baking cookies, for example. None of those are possible right now. What about coloring? I loved to color and always had a big stack of coloring books. A favorite present was a new big box of crayons. 

One of the benefits of having grandchildren is coloring with them. The subject of the coloring books may not be too inspirational--Elmo or Star Wars or Disney movies--but opportunity for easy conversation has been sweet. What's your favorite color? If you lived in another house, what color would you paint the front door? How many things can you name that are red? Tell me about your best friend and what the two of you like to do together? 

At ages 6 and 11 now neither of them are coloring as much as they used to, but that doesn't mean I can't color, and it just so happens that I have a big set of markers and a stupendous set of every color in the rainbow colored pencils. I kept hoping I would discover hidden drawing and sketching talents in myself, for after all our talented son was a drawing major at Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design, but no such luck. I do have on hand, however, two different mandala design coloring books, and actually, that's enough for me. 

A New Kind of Meditation
Bruce gathered my materials for me, and the last couple days I have sat at the dining room table and colored mandalas. As I did so, I could feel myself quiet and become still, except for the hand moving slowly and gently across the page. A mandala is a sacred circle, a symbol of wholeness found in all cultures throughout time. In the past I have drawn my own mandalas tracing a plate to create the circle and then have drawn my own designs rather than following someone else's lines. I suspect I will do that again someday. Maybe tomorrow. But right now I am content to sway with the rhythm of back and forth, light or maybe a bit heavier. 

A kind of prayer. A time of meditation. A pathway in this healing process.

One of the other things I enjoyed doing in my childhood years is putting together jigsaw puzzles, so perhaps that's what I'll do next.

An Invitation
What enjoyable childhood activities have you not done for a long time? What are you waiting for? I would love to know.  

Tuesday's Reflection: Birthday Celebration

Yesterday was my birthday. I am now 66. Being confined with a broken ankle is not exactly how I thought I would celebrate my birthday this year, but as my father is known for saying, "That's the way it is."

I recall many wonderful birthday celebrations in my life: going to see "My Fair Lady" on Broadway for my 13th birthday, celebrating my 40th with dear women friends at a surprise luncheon planned by my husband, doing Tai Chi on the beach in Zanzibar for my 50th. However, I also recall one year in my 30's when we got up in the morning to so much snow that all birthday plans were cancelled. 

Birthdays are not always easy to handle, and I think about a picture of what must have been my 6th birthday. My birthday guests are seated on the steps of our house, and I am turned away from them, sobbing. Was I overwhelmed? Disappointed? Was the reality less than what I had built up in my mind? Who knows, for that was 60 years ago, and I have learned over the decades that some years are just better and easier to celebrate and be celebrated than others. 

The Movement of God
I assume this will be one of those birthdays I will not forget, nor do I want to forget it, for even though I am confined and moving slowly, I recognize there are gifts in this time. The challenge is to recognize and honor them. Joan Chittister in her book The Story of Ruth offers a good starting place for ongoing reflection:

          Change points are those moments in life in which
          we get inside ourselves to find out that we are not,
          at the end, really one person at all. We are many--
          each of them lying in wait to come to life. We are
          each a composite of experiences and abilities, of
          possibilities and hopes, of memories, and wonder,
          of gifts and wishes. Every stage of life calls on a
          different dimension of the self. Every stage of life
          is another grace of being that teaches us something
          new about ourselves, that demands something sterner
          of ourselves, that enables us to learn something deeper
          about our God.
          
One of the questions often asked in spiritual direction is "How is God moving in your life right now?" A good question, and one that even though I am not moving very much right now or perhaps because I am not moving easily or quickly during these recovery weeks, this is the perfect time to reflect on the movement of God in my life right now. If you have been reading this blog, you know how much the theme of moving has figured into my life over the last couple years. Now my challenge is to come to a place of quiet and stillness in which to feel how God is moving in my life, "to learn something deeper about our God."

Questions for Discovery
Who is this Nancy who is not moving? Who is this Nancy whose springtime plans are on hold and whose lists for doing are not being accomplished? Who is this Nancy who loves quiet time for reading and writing and meditating, but when she chooses it? Who is this Nancy who prefers to handle her own needs and now must accept the help of many? What is this time-out preparing this Nancy to do, to be? Who is the Nancy who will come to life because of this time of not moving? 

One thing is clear: God is moving in my life, the life of this Nancy right now, in the form of all those who have offered prayers and well-wishes for my healing and all those, who have helped in so many concrete ways, especially my family. God is in the movement of my husband who has been the perfect combination of taking charge and doing what needs to be done, anticipating my needs, but backing off when that was the right response.  And pushing me when that was exactly what I needed. 

Every Moment of Your Life
In some ways I feel like a young child getting dressed and making my bed "all by myself," but I also feel like the accumulation of all my birthdays, entering years when there is more memory than future. Peter Levitt in his book Fingerpainting on the Moon, Writing and Creativity as a Path to Freedom says, "Step forward and put new ground beneath your feet every moment of your life." Every moment of your life means even those moments when your feet are not moving very steadily. It's in the "every moment" that one is invited to know the movement of God.

I am listening. I am stopping. I am becoming still. I am accepting. I am receiving. I am opening. I am healing. I am sensing the movement of God in my life. 

A Blessing
"May you move through the day with eyes open to the God who shines like the sun within and around you." Jan L. Richardson

An Invitation
How is God moving in your life right now? I would love to know. 

Tuesday Reflection: The Next Step

Yesterday was a big day. I had an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon's physician assistance as a follow-up to the surgery for my broken ankle two weeks ago, First, there was the challenge of getting me out of the house and into the car and out of the car and into the office. Trust me, you don't want to know all those details.

Then there was the removal of the cast and a new set of X-rays.

How thrilled we were to learn that healing is going well and is progressing on schedule. Very good news. That is the most important thing.

However, I am still at the "no weight bearing" stage, even though I have graduated from cast to boot and I have at least 4-6 weeks before I can drive and have more of a normal in and out, out and about kind of life. Going upstairs to my office garret area and downstairs to our family room are activities not yet on the allowed list. Disappointing, for sure, and last night I permitted myself to give into the blues and to sink into the exhaustion from the day.

A New Day

Today, however, is a new day, and I am figuring out how to manage this next step. Without the cast, for example, I can get myself dressed without Bruce's help and throughout the next couple days we will determine what else I need in order to function in the house on my own as much as possible. I will attempt to look with fresh eyes at this stage --how can I best use this unplanned time? In what ways can this be "found" time for me?

I don't feel trapped, but I do feel limited. Therefore, within the given limits what are reasonable expectations while I keep my eyes on the prize of total healing? The lesson is to let things take the time they actually need. I hope I can keep Richard Rohr's words in mind, "Your concern is not so much to have what you love anymore, but to love what you have right now." 

Right now I am re-evaluating what exactly it is I have right now. Obviously, I am fully aware of all I have in terms of the support of family and friends and that my injury is totally fixable etc. etc. My gratitude list is very long. Now that the initial two weeks of healing time have passed and I have a better sense of what is ahead, however, I don't want to take this time for granted. I know there are ways I can deepen my spiritual practice during this time and ways I can use my gifts as well. 

Recently, I spoke with a friend and former spiritual direction client who is in the midst of a major family crisis and I passed on to her words the writer Sarah Orne Jewett wrote to her friend and fellow writer, Willa Cather, "We must be ourselves, but we must be our best selves." How can I be my very best self during this next stage of healing?  Just as Bruce and I are figuring out how I can move easily through the house and what I need in order to fix myself lunch and do the other basic tasks of my life, I am listening to the cues in my heart about how to best use this time.  Stay tuned!

A Story

Such wonderful help we have received these last few weeks, and I am so grateful. Reminding myself to be a graceful receiver of help, I remember a story from many years ago when our children were young. The mother of a neighbor and good friend died unexpectedly and when I heard the news, I put together a breakfast meal--muffins and orange juice and I don't know what else. When I delivered it to our friends' home, the babysitter, a lovely college-aged woman who babysat for the family regularly, came to the door. I told her what I had brought, and she sighed and rolled her eyes. I could tell she was irritated with the interruption and was probably wondering what she was going to do with yet more food. 

I started to leave and then I turned back to her and said, "I want to do you a favor by sharing some advice. Someday you will lose a loved one and people who love you will respond with tokens of their support and sympathy. This is what people do for others. This is what we do for ourselves. The appropriate response is to simply say "thank you." 

Thank you everybody! 

An Invitation

When have you needed to move at the pace of your body and what did you learn? In what ways have those times deepened your spiritual practice and allowed you to access your best self?When have you needed to just smile and say "thank you"? I would love to know. 

 

Thursday's Reflection: A Time to Heal

Yesterday I spent much of the afternoon studying John 11, which the class I have been attending until I fell and broke my ankle discussed last Monday night. I want to keep up with the syllabus and be ready for the day I can return to class.

Bruce brought me my stack of books from my office, and I immersed myself in the Gospel story of Martha and Mary's distress over the death of their brother Lazarus and Jesus performing his last major miracle before his crucifixion. It was an afternoon of deep contentment, and except for the obvious hunk of concrete splayed in front of me on the ottoman, I forgot about my ankle. I was doing what I love to do--reading, studying, reflecting, knowing I would eventually write about what I was learning.

One of the books I consulted was Women in the Ministry of Jesus by Ben Witherington III, a book in many ways that is over my head. For one thing I can't read Greek. Even so, there are words that seem written specifically for me. Witherington refers to the story in Luke in which Martha is upset Mary doesn't help her serve Jesus, but instead sits at his feet and listens to him. Witherington writes, "…it is a matter of contrasting the importance of listening to and learning the word of God to anything else. We are dealing with a matter of priorities and only one thing can come first and be absolutely necessary."

Healing is and needs to be my priority. 

It's not that I didn't know that, nor have I ignored what many have been saying.  One friend said, "It's all about healing now. Think constantly of your healing." Another, "Give yourself the time to heal quickly and completely." Yet another, "Broken ankles are just not acceptable." Love that!

I didn't think I was fighting what needs to be my focus, but I hadn't moved it into my heart. My body was quite clear about the necessity, as was my mind, but the heart was lagging behind. I had been thinking about how I could best use this time--what books I want to read and what writing I want to do; how I can finally go through the stacks of household and tax papers and decide what can be tossed and how this would be the perfect time to clean out my computer files. I had not yet created a list with the title, Things to Do While Healing," but I was forming it in my head. 

And how could I not use this time to reflect on the meaning of this experience. Why did I fall and why now? Am I not grounded enough? Did I need to be stopped cold in my tracks? All good questions, and I know in time I will sit with these thoughts, but right now the priority is to heal.

What exactly does that mean? For me right now it means staying awake enough to know when I need to nap. It means paying attention to know when I am overriding what my body is telling me. It means accepting today, each day, and remembering as a friend reminded me that we become stronger in the broken places. She also said, "Our years bring us wisdom and fragility." Thoughts for another day.

Late in the afternoon as I ended my session of study, I glanced out our sunroom windows from the chair where I have set up my temporary office. The troop of elementary kids from the nearby parochial school were bouncing and bounding down the sidewalk, and I felt my whole body respond, "I love my life." What a glorious moment of healing.

An Invitation
Does healing, physically, emotionally, or spiritually, need to be a priority in your life? What are the signs that is so and what does it mean for your life? What are you willing to do to make that happen? I would love to know. 

Reflection: Life Changes

We know the phrase "life changes on a dime," but in my case life changed with a turn on the ice. Monday we had a spring snow squall lightly covering patches of sheer ice. It is Minnesota after all. On my way to pick up recycling bins at a recreation center, one of those sneaky ice patches found me, and swoosh! down I went. The next thing I knew I was wrapped in a Green Bay Packer blanket, thanks to a nice passerby, and waiting for the ambulance. 

When one of the EMT guys (God Bless Them ALL!) asked me about my pain, I told him the pain wasn't terrible and that I am a "tough old bird." He chuckled and said he hadn't heard that one before. So glad I could brighten his day! 

I have never broken a bone before, but here I am with a badly broken ankle. I was admitted to the hospital, had surgery on Tuesday, and I came home Wednesday evening. I have a great team, who moved into place quickly, including my husband who returned from Madison immediately, and now recovery is beginning.  However, "back to normal" is off in the distant future. 

Lessons
No doubt there are lots of lessons to be learned. Someone suggested it is hard to accept help, and I have reflected on that and will do so more. Actually, I think I can accept help, but I am not very good asking for help, and there is a difference. My husband who is busy responding to my requests for water or another pillow or help getting to the bathroom, however, may think I know how to ask with no problem. 

My spiritual director suggested perhaps I need to slow down, saying sometimes "God does for us what we could not do for ourselves." If you have been reading this blog, you know that this past year plus has been a time of lots of doing. I have moved from one big task to another. Moving has been the theme.

A New Theme
I will have to find a new theme, for my moving is limited and aided with a walker for the time being. The Time Being. 
Therefore, I will read and I will write. I will smell the flowers that have been delivered to my doorstep and reread the many notes loved ones have sent. I will count my many blessings, including our daughter who met me in the ER soon after I arrived and has been on call ever since. I will sit and watch the little sparrow that comes to sit on the forsythia wreath on our front door. This in its own way is sacred time, and even though at times I will feel frustrated and disappointed at this turn of events, I intend to do my best to pay attention to what it is I am to learn. 

This past Sunday I attended a concert of John Rutter music performed by VocalEssence led by Philip Brunelle. You may have heard this group on Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion. The opening piece, "Dedication," is my prayer, my hope, and perhaps my theme for this time. This Time of Being.

          May my hands be strong yet gentle;
          May my head be held up high.
          May my feet be firm upon the ground.
          With my face toward the sky.
          May my shoulders bear each burden,
          And my back be never bowed.
          May my heart be kind , and wise enough
          To be humble more than proud.
          With so many roads to follow,
           So many dreams, and schemes to plan,
           If I may not change the whole wide world,
           May I do the best I can.
           Amen.

An Invitation
When did your world last turn on a dime and what did you learn? How did that time deepen you spirituality?I would love to know. 

Note: Normally, I post on this blog every Tuesday and Thursday, but due to the recent event in my life I have not been able to stick with that schedule. I hope to resume a more normal schedule in the coming days.