Out and about...

We have had our first break in 90-degree weather, thanks to a front bringing downpours, and then dry cooler air into our fair city.  This always tends to bring out the wanderlust in my spirit - or at least, the get-outside-and-move-your-body-around side of me.  I did not manage to inherit my mother's green thumb, but I surely did inherit a love for being close to nature, and among living things.

So, today was my mini-adventure into the gardens that I have loved for 6+ years, and while the picture to the left takes in the lush remnants of a summer with substantial rain, most of my focus on this stroll was on the details - a rain lily here, a stand of mushrooms there, the patterns of the bark on various trees, the ripening of the magnolia pods.  My knees take less of a liking than they did 6 years ago to the many steps on the paths, and I may have to sit down more often, but seeing the world through a different lens is a good thing.

Five months ago, I had no idea that my life would become as complicated as it did. As of tomorrow, most all of the threats and stresses on my soul and body will have found some degree of resolution. None of it will be forgotten, however.  I will just have the benefit of being able to look at it all through a different lens.  I am grateful for that.  It is a good thing.

Elders...

There is now a hole in my life.  It is the space inhabited by the elders of our families, to whom we by rights should show our respect for having survived the things they did, having lived good lives, and having been models of what was good about the previous generations.  I am now a Baby Boomer who has lost both of my parents.  Are there still elders in my life?  Of course, but not the ones who gave me birth,  patched my skinned knees until I learned to do it for myself, and fed me until I could feed myself - on all levels.  Many times, they taught simply by asking questions that made me think for myself - developing those all important problem-solving skills that we all recognize now as so important.

So, this is all new. I now have the wings that come from having verbally loved my mother with the words, "It's ok for you to go.  We are all going to be alright, and I will love love you forever and ever."  Those are hard-earned wings, I'm telling you.  But I will never regret any time that I spent with her in her later years, and I will never have to worry that I should have done more, because I know that I did as much as I could do, given every circumstance that I had to balance.

What a wise lady she was!

Fleeting moments...

This evening, upon returning from work, I went to get my mail, and found one of my dear, sweet neighbors stretched out on the porch with 2 women kneeling over her, trying to get her to respond.  As  I checked with them to see if they were CPR trained and to offer my help, I could hear the sirens in the distance announcing the approaching ambulance and EMTs.  They said she still had a pulse, but as we monitored her, she stopped breathing completely. One gave 2 rescue breaths, but I could see that they did not go in.  She said she couldn't get anything in. The EMTs arrived.  I stepped aside - the EMT listened with a stethoscope and said he had a heartbeat, but before his partner returned with the AED, he started chest compressions.  I moved into the hallway, and pointed the way for the rest of the fire department crew.  As they set up the AED and cut away her clothing, I left with a heavy heart...wanting to afford her the dignity of not continuing to watch as they stripped away her dignity in an effort to save her life.  I don't know whether they were able to bring her back, but there was no light in her eyes when I walked away.

I walked down the halls to my front door, sobbing for this sweet lady and her family. If she is in heaven, then God give her a peaceful rest and comfort to all of us whom she befriended.

What to do...

A couple of weeks ago, I was contemplating gently suggesting to whomever in the world might be reading, that I let the blogging world go.  It seemed the right time.  In reviewing the "stats" on my work here, it had been 4 years since I started writing, and I was close to 200 posts.  Then I checked again and discovered that it was actually 188 posts, because there were some drafts that just never found their way to completion.  So, with that, and with my son's accident and all of the uncertainty surrounding it, I just put the decision on the shelf.

That's an odd description of the action, but as appropriate as any.  It's not really a huge, life changing decision, because after all, how many people actually follow my musings?  And at this point, if they have been following, how much more would they learn about me or anything else by reading what I write?

In my digital pictures, I came across this one of a lovely little spot on the grounds of the gardens that somewhat inspired this all in the first place.  We take advantage of so few of these spots in this crazy, distracting world, but they are so perfect for ruminating about decisions.  Perhaps even from our actual perches on the couch, inside and protected from the ghastly heat of the Texas Southeast in the throws of summer, we can imagine sitting here instead, with the peace of nature surrounding us - and let the words just settle into the ground from which they came.  We'll see.

Praying...

I've had plenty of reasons over many years to pray, and many of those times, I found myself with no words.  I had to trust that God would sort it all out.  I profess to not knowing how prayer works - but I know that there is a peace that comes from letting God know that you are troubled and seeking comfort and understanding for what is happening around you and to people you love.

One week ago, my youngest son had a diving accident and broke his neck. He walked away from the accident, but was treated immediately afterward - which may easily have saved his life. What is a mom to do but pray from the moment she hears the words, "I've cracked my head open and need stitches."?  And then, upon arrival at the ER, to sit in a room and hear the technician saying "cervical fracture" through the doorway?

Sometimes, there are just no words, and so one delves deep into whatever scripture, hymn verses, and prayers learned as a child seem to pop up.  The Lord's Prayer - the model for all prayer.  One of the first we learn, at least as Christians.  And so, in my case, a week ago, it was the Lord's Prayer - over and over and over again.  And in the wee hours of the morning, in the midst of a crowded Level 1 trauma center on Memorial Day weekend, that prayer was no longer just the words.  It became the song - the famous setting that I have sung for dozens of weddings, and at years worth of communion services as a congregational response.  Why the song?  Because my brain thinks best when it is musically engaged, and in song, the words of that prayer are caressed and loved and extended into more than a prayer.

My son walked away from the ER the next day, with months of healing ahead, but alive.  The prayers will continue.

Re-boot...

Not meaning to have misled anyone searching Google for information about re-booting a computer. That's such a strange term anyway.  It brings to mind physically kicking a machine to start it on to make that stuck package of candy fall into the tray where you get magic access to it.

In this case, I'm referring to a certain phenomenon that I have discovered over the past 2 days.  I'm sure this idea was lurking in the back of my mind the whole time, but if not, then I have learned something extremely valuable to me in keeping up the good habits I've been trying to make.  Yesterday, I really, really, really, really, really did not want to work out after work, but I had an appointment with a trainer and it was too late to cancel.  It had been a very long week, work-wise and family-wise, and I just want to go home and sit in the quiet of my house.  However, I did go, and when I came out, I realized that 40 minute session had basically re-booted my thought patterns.  Gone was the negativity and difficulty of the week.  I mean, consciously, of course, I still remembered all of the details, but the magic was that I had let go of it.  Enough to be consciously aware of what had happened.

Today, the same thing happened.  My brain was scrambling going into the gym, and when I left, it had let go of all of the circling vultures that had cluttered it before.  I like this.  I love this.

Sweet Spire...

Sweetspire.  That is the nickname of the plant in the photo. Itea viriginica.  Another of those blooming attractions I knew nothing about before my work at Bayou Bend.  Oddly enough, I now have my own children asking me the name of garden plants as if I were my mother - who has been a life-long lover of plants and gardens and digging in the dirt.  Being thought of as any sort of "expert" on plant life is a new and strange feeling for me.

One thing I have noticed about sweetspire, however, is that it is one of those plants that, during the winter, or dormant periods, it just simply looks like a dead woody bunch of dark-colored sticks.  One would be thoroughly tempted to just pull it out as a failed experiment.  But no.  With the patience of the spring, little leaves start to sprout, and when all is decked out in green once more, the wise gardener is blessed with these feathery white blossoms.  Not particularly flashy. Not brightly colored with eye-catching enormous blooms. Just these subtle, graceful reminders that what may have been ugly a few months ago has been transformed with sun, warmth, and enough rain to keep the cycle in place.  I can love that simplicity.