My friend buried her son yesterday.
Nicholas was only 10 years old. It was quite an experience to see a casket that small, and the effect it had on all who were present was intense. His older sister, Taylor, had suggested that people write messages on his casket, so in no time at all, the markers left indelible prayers and goodbyes as artwork for the afterlife.
The first time I met Nick was when Deidra’s daughter Rachel and my daughter Kathryn were in kindergarten. He was in a special stroller that put him at eye level. His features didn’t look quite right to me, but Meet the Teacher night didn’t seem like the appropriate venue to ask about his condition. It was several months later that I found out the truth: Nick had been a normal 6 month old, and then he had his vaccines. He became irrevocably brain damaged after that.
I admit that I had always been skeptical about the reports of this happening, or the severity of the injury due to the introduction of several serums at once. For whatever reason, the combination of these shots with Nick’s chemistry proved to be wholly incompatible. The first 3 children all managed their shots just fine, but not Nick.
Deidra never played the victim card. She and her family always included Nick in every family activity, reading to him every night, saving a special place at the table for every meal even though he received his nutrition through a feeding tube. Her husband meticulously researched nutritional supplements and alternative treatments to help Nick increase his quality of life. Eventually, they jumped through enough hoops to convince the US Federal Government’s National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program that they qualified for assistance, and were finally able to get some in-home nursing care. Most children who have the type of brain injury that Nick had don’t make it as long as he did, and it was because of the unconditional love and dogged determination of his family that he truly had a blessed experience.
I have to admit that I was torn at the funeral. I mean, how can you not bless the release of a soul who is trapped in a body that can’t communicate? And then I saw the posters that his siblings had made. He saved his smiles for them. There was an awareness that I had not been privileged to see, as he was almost always sleeping when I was around him. And no matter what his mental or physical state was, he had a family that loved him dearly. Another set of parents outlived one of their children.
This family will have some major adjusting to do, now that the 24/7 schedule of feeding, bathing, doctoring, and researching is over. Nick’s siblings will continue with their own busy lives, as their mom made sure that the burdens of caring for a disabled sibling was not going to keep them from a full life of their own.
Godspeed, young Nick. I hope you have fun running and playing with the angels now! And thanks, Deidra and family, for showing me what it means to love unconditionally.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
I need a wife...
As I roll into the middle of my third week of work, I am finally realizing how important my role as a stay-at-home wife/mom was. Sure, I'm now bringing in a paycheck, but wow...this is tiring! Yeah, I know there is a collective groan going up from those who have been doing this for a very long time, but I'm just getting my stamina up. It has also coincided with a wonderful increase in other freelance writing gigs as well as new work for my Intuitive Interior endeavors, which makes for another full day on Saturdays and a partial work day on Sundays. My FaceBook participation is suffering (not necessarily a bad thing), I'm way behind on blogging (not that I was terribly active before), and my house is a mess. So, other than FB, not much has changed.
Yet again, I'm living proof that the busier I am, the more productive I am.
Today, I spent it in the field all day. Turns out my manager prefers that I make at least one daily visit to the office. My bad. I don't mind, I just thought I'd try to stay up north and save my new tires a bit. It's a different mindset in this company. They actually STOP working at 5. I'm not used to that concept. Having been employed as a field sales person for 7 years where my office was my car, and then a variety of other self-motivated pursuits, it's shocking to see that there really is a company that largely adheres to the 9-5 work day. It's kinda nice!
I'm off to enjoy some family time now. All work and no play makes for a cranky mom!
Yet again, I'm living proof that the busier I am, the more productive I am.
Today, I spent it in the field all day. Turns out my manager prefers that I make at least one daily visit to the office. My bad. I don't mind, I just thought I'd try to stay up north and save my new tires a bit. It's a different mindset in this company. They actually STOP working at 5. I'm not used to that concept. Having been employed as a field sales person for 7 years where my office was my car, and then a variety of other self-motivated pursuits, it's shocking to see that there really is a company that largely adheres to the 9-5 work day. It's kinda nice!
I'm off to enjoy some family time now. All work and no play makes for a cranky mom!
Saturday, January 9, 2010
New Job!
2010 is promising to be a very interesting year/decade. Besides just the usual realization that we have 365 days to put a new year on the end of our checks, I now have a new job! I will be selling advertising space for Dallas Child Magazine, one of the premier kid-oriented publications in the metroplex. I'm excited about this opportunity, but it also means a return to full-time work. I'll be chronicling this change for my first year to see how we all adjust to moving from a 1-income family to a dual-earner family. I've had such amazing flexibility up to this point, so going to a more structured schedule should be interesting! I'll keep you all posted. Job starts on the 18th, so I have a week to wrap up loose ends! I'll need it all... Whee!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Painting out the Decade...
Most people spend Christmas Eve either going to church, traveling to see far-off family members, or decorating cookies for Santa Claus’ visit. This year, I spent it painting.
It’s been 8 years since the walls of our home have been painted properly, and in those 8 years, we’ve seen our share of bumps & bruises, much like our walls. There was the dented corner in our upstairs loft, where my son first got introduced to the wonder that is scalp staples. Then there’s the pillar by the stairs, nearly black with residue from all of our hands using it for support as we zip up and down the steps. And who could forget the banged-up corners from the balls bounced for our sweet puppies?
As I watched the paintbrush glide over the spackled-over nail pops and repaired edges, I couldn’t help but reflect on the years that held the events of the damage. I don’t know about you, but this past decade has been full of surprises. Some happy, some sad, some downright scary.
Take, for example, our daughter’s first broken arm shortly after we moved into the house. We barely had time to meet people before we had to ask them for references for an orthopedic surgeon!
Then the thrill of finding a gold mine of friends when our son entered elementary school. I had heard stories about moms losing themselves in PTA activities and scoffed, until I found myself right in the thick of it, and loving the new-found camaraderie of other stay-at-home moms.
That connection proved to be invaluable as my second child entered kindergarten – and I entered the oncology ward. Breast cancer wasn’t on my initial to-do list of life events, but 2002 had other ideas. A fire earlier in the year had bequeathed us the joy of redecorating, and the paint color we have is still a reminder of that rushed time of decisions. In fact, I still refer to that year as my “country music” year, since many songs of that genre talk about times of great struggle and strife. My year was infused with humor, joy, and laughter, even though our dog died, my husband lost his job, I got cancer, my daughter broke her arm for the 3rd time, and my mama broke her hip. Oh, and of course, I nearly burned our house down. Ah, good times, good times…
Painting over the residue of that year allowed me to meditate on the answers that intense soul-searching hopes to provide. Money isn’t everything as long as you have your health, but it’s pretty darn nice to have both. Happiness is a mindset, not a destination. True character is shown when faced with the loss of a cherished pet…or parent. Personal growth can be quite uncomfortable, and not just for the person doing the growing. And the bonds of love can be strengthened by the most inauspicious of events.
I’m sure that 2010 will also begin another cycle of twists and turns, better than the plot of any best-selling novel. The best part? We’re in charge of the plot! I could never have imagined the outcome of the days of 2000-2009, just as 2010-2019 are a mystery. I have set some goals for myself, but have learned to focus more on how I wish to feel, and less on the specifics of what I want to happen. My imagination is far too limited. The Universe, God, Gaia, Allah, Jehovah, Creator, or whatever name you choose to give to your guiding spiritual leader wants to give you what you ask for, anyway. It just doesn’t always show up in the form you originally asked for. The word NOT tends to be ignored, so I ask for what I want, rather than what I don’t want, or don’t have, or don’t wish to feel.
As I put the final brushstrokes on my walls, closing out the Aughts, (the O-No’s?), I found myself saying a prayer of gratitude for all of our family’s experiences from the decade. We have a blank slate. I look forward to seeing what the Teens will paint on the canvas of our lives!
It’s been 8 years since the walls of our home have been painted properly, and in those 8 years, we’ve seen our share of bumps & bruises, much like our walls. There was the dented corner in our upstairs loft, where my son first got introduced to the wonder that is scalp staples. Then there’s the pillar by the stairs, nearly black with residue from all of our hands using it for support as we zip up and down the steps. And who could forget the banged-up corners from the balls bounced for our sweet puppies?
As I watched the paintbrush glide over the spackled-over nail pops and repaired edges, I couldn’t help but reflect on the years that held the events of the damage. I don’t know about you, but this past decade has been full of surprises. Some happy, some sad, some downright scary.
Take, for example, our daughter’s first broken arm shortly after we moved into the house. We barely had time to meet people before we had to ask them for references for an orthopedic surgeon!
Then the thrill of finding a gold mine of friends when our son entered elementary school. I had heard stories about moms losing themselves in PTA activities and scoffed, until I found myself right in the thick of it, and loving the new-found camaraderie of other stay-at-home moms.
That connection proved to be invaluable as my second child entered kindergarten – and I entered the oncology ward. Breast cancer wasn’t on my initial to-do list of life events, but 2002 had other ideas. A fire earlier in the year had bequeathed us the joy of redecorating, and the paint color we have is still a reminder of that rushed time of decisions. In fact, I still refer to that year as my “country music” year, since many songs of that genre talk about times of great struggle and strife. My year was infused with humor, joy, and laughter, even though our dog died, my husband lost his job, I got cancer, my daughter broke her arm for the 3rd time, and my mama broke her hip. Oh, and of course, I nearly burned our house down. Ah, good times, good times…
Painting over the residue of that year allowed me to meditate on the answers that intense soul-searching hopes to provide. Money isn’t everything as long as you have your health, but it’s pretty darn nice to have both. Happiness is a mindset, not a destination. True character is shown when faced with the loss of a cherished pet…or parent. Personal growth can be quite uncomfortable, and not just for the person doing the growing. And the bonds of love can be strengthened by the most inauspicious of events.
I’m sure that 2010 will also begin another cycle of twists and turns, better than the plot of any best-selling novel. The best part? We’re in charge of the plot! I could never have imagined the outcome of the days of 2000-2009, just as 2010-2019 are a mystery. I have set some goals for myself, but have learned to focus more on how I wish to feel, and less on the specifics of what I want to happen. My imagination is far too limited. The Universe, God, Gaia, Allah, Jehovah, Creator, or whatever name you choose to give to your guiding spiritual leader wants to give you what you ask for, anyway. It just doesn’t always show up in the form you originally asked for. The word NOT tends to be ignored, so I ask for what I want, rather than what I don’t want, or don’t have, or don’t wish to feel.
As I put the final brushstrokes on my walls, closing out the Aughts, (the O-No’s?), I found myself saying a prayer of gratitude for all of our family’s experiences from the decade. We have a blank slate. I look forward to seeing what the Teens will paint on the canvas of our lives!
Friday, December 18, 2009
Winter Solstice
The time is upon us where the nights will gradually become longer, and the daylight will thumb its nose at the preposterous notion of "savings time"...and it's time for our annual Winter Solstice celebration. This tradition began as a way to include all of our friends, several of whom are Jewish, Muslim, or simply non-Christian. Everybody can be happy about longer days, right?
And then I got the email about the family Christmas gathering from my mom.
"It is not just a winter holiday or the winter solstice as the politically correct people seem to think. How sad for the misguided, misled liberal thinkers. How I pray that the Holy Spirit would pop a light bulb of truth in their brains."
I love my family. I adore my mother. I don't agree with some of the religious or political viewpoints that my family holds, but we're still blood. So, Thanks, Mom! I really appreciate the prayers!
And, we can all appreciate the fact that we'll be able to enjoy more sunlight, minute by each precious minute. Happy Holidays, y'all!
And then I got the email about the family Christmas gathering from my mom.
"It is not just a winter holiday or the winter solstice as the politically correct people seem to think. How sad for the misguided, misled liberal thinkers. How I pray that the Holy Spirit would pop a light bulb of truth in their brains."
I love my family. I adore my mother. I don't agree with some of the religious or political viewpoints that my family holds, but we're still blood. So, Thanks, Mom! I really appreciate the prayers!
And, we can all appreciate the fact that we'll be able to enjoy more sunlight, minute by each precious minute. Happy Holidays, y'all!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Buddha Light
I just returned from a wonderful weekend conference at Harvard with His Holiness GrandMaster Lin Yun , leader of the 4th Stage of the Black Hat Sect of Tantric Buddhism. He is also the person responsible for bringing the more spiritual, less dogmatic type of Feng Shui that I practice to the U.S. I arrived in Boston expecting to learn a lot about "The Most Secretive of the Secretive Cures" and other arcane Feng Shui knowledge.
I left with a new respect for Buddhism in general.
Sure, I received many new tips and techniques to use on my Feng Shui appointments, but the tapestry that was woven around the lessons was rich and varied. I'm not one who is easily impressed by outward displays of reverence or flash. In fact, many of the participants turned me off by their sycophantic words of praise and adulation for Professor Lin. And even when I met him, it wasn't like there was a flash of light, angels surrounding him, or even any loud gongs sounding. It wasn't until the next day, when he gave us a glimpse of the sense of humor that lies buried in the intricacies of his native Mandarin, and his graciousness about allowing photos to be taken with him that I began to see why people are so fond of him.
I had been approaching him as a mere teacher, not the mentor that they were.
Many of the participants shed tears as the weekend drew to a close. I guess if I had been following someone around the world for 15-20 years, and now that time was nearing the end, I would be sad, too. I guess I still don't understand the devotion that comes with that type of dedication. Bands have their groupies...why not a spiritual teacher?
Some of the knowledge imparted still doesn't seem practical, but once my Western mind wraps itself around it, I'm sure I'll be able to adapt it properly to my clients' needs. All I can say is, if anyone has a really old Chinese cooking wok with a black bottom, please don't throw it away! Let me know and I'll tell you how it can serve you, all for the price of 9 red envelopes!
I took part in a special ceremony at the end of the weekend, too. While they called it "Refuge", and many actually prostrated themselved in front of Professor Lin, I perceived it as a type of blessing ceremony. The Buddhist nature of it was fascinating...so accepting of others and their belief systems...they actually stressed that they did NOT want anyone to convert to Buddhism, that the participants should keep their current belief systems. Wow! What a change to the standard Christian practice of Convert & Conquer...
I got a Chi Infusion from him, which left me energetically charged for days, too. That man has great energy! And eventually, I'll get a small golden Buddha statue, which will contain the energy of both Professor Lin and Crystal Chu, his successor.
Her Holiness Khadro Crystal Chu Rinpoche will take over teaching these Feng Shui seminars, as well as continue her work as a teacher of Buddhist philosophies around the world, once the 78-yr-old Professor chooses to retire. The fact that a woman was chosen to fill his shoes is huge...historically, women weren't even allowed to know anything about Feng Shui, let alone be the leader of a world-wide organization! She is a lovely and gracious individual, and I look forward to seeing what she will offer in her time.
I realized, too, that many of the meditations and prayers that I already say are not dissimilar to the ones presented during the weekend. The biggest difference was the vocabulary surrounding the invitation to allow the Universal Light into your heart. They simply used "Buddha Light"...but it's all Love. God's Love. Buddha's Love. Allah's Love. Sweet Spirit.
And it's all Good!
I left with a new respect for Buddhism in general.
Sure, I received many new tips and techniques to use on my Feng Shui appointments, but the tapestry that was woven around the lessons was rich and varied. I'm not one who is easily impressed by outward displays of reverence or flash. In fact, many of the participants turned me off by their sycophantic words of praise and adulation for Professor Lin. And even when I met him, it wasn't like there was a flash of light, angels surrounding him, or even any loud gongs sounding. It wasn't until the next day, when he gave us a glimpse of the sense of humor that lies buried in the intricacies of his native Mandarin, and his graciousness about allowing photos to be taken with him that I began to see why people are so fond of him.
I had been approaching him as a mere teacher, not the mentor that they were.
Many of the participants shed tears as the weekend drew to a close. I guess if I had been following someone around the world for 15-20 years, and now that time was nearing the end, I would be sad, too. I guess I still don't understand the devotion that comes with that type of dedication. Bands have their groupies...why not a spiritual teacher?
Some of the knowledge imparted still doesn't seem practical, but once my Western mind wraps itself around it, I'm sure I'll be able to adapt it properly to my clients' needs. All I can say is, if anyone has a really old Chinese cooking wok with a black bottom, please don't throw it away! Let me know and I'll tell you how it can serve you, all for the price of 9 red envelopes!
I took part in a special ceremony at the end of the weekend, too. While they called it "Refuge", and many actually prostrated themselved in front of Professor Lin, I perceived it as a type of blessing ceremony. The Buddhist nature of it was fascinating...so accepting of others and their belief systems...they actually stressed that they did NOT want anyone to convert to Buddhism, that the participants should keep their current belief systems. Wow! What a change to the standard Christian practice of Convert & Conquer...
I got a Chi Infusion from him, which left me energetically charged for days, too. That man has great energy! And eventually, I'll get a small golden Buddha statue, which will contain the energy of both Professor Lin and Crystal Chu, his successor.
Her Holiness Khadro Crystal Chu Rinpoche will take over teaching these Feng Shui seminars, as well as continue her work as a teacher of Buddhist philosophies around the world, once the 78-yr-old Professor chooses to retire. The fact that a woman was chosen to fill his shoes is huge...historically, women weren't even allowed to know anything about Feng Shui, let alone be the leader of a world-wide organization! She is a lovely and gracious individual, and I look forward to seeing what she will offer in her time.
I realized, too, that many of the meditations and prayers that I already say are not dissimilar to the ones presented during the weekend. The biggest difference was the vocabulary surrounding the invitation to allow the Universal Light into your heart. They simply used "Buddha Light"...but it's all Love. God's Love. Buddha's Love. Allah's Love. Sweet Spirit.
And it's all Good!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Mum Madness
Some days, I wonder just what planet I live on, but then I realize that it's just Texas. My latest foray into the unknown culture of this place began with a late-night quest for the mythical Homecoming Mum. Of course, all of the local grocery stores and Walgreens were already depleted of their allotted beribboned adornments, so I had no choice but to wait for Hobby Lobby to open the next day.
There, I was greeted by a meager assortment of baubles and bells, as well as the bases for this traditional item. I thought I had struck the jackpot when I found a pre-made one for the low, low price of...(insert choking sound here)... $45! I beat feet to Michael's, thinking that surely they would be cheaper there.
Oh, but I would be wrong. I did find a nicer pre-made one for $50, and one that was even cooler for $99, but I couldn't wrap my head around the concept of paying someone else to glue-gun and staple loads of ribbon, crappy-do ornaments, and curled ribbons onto what can only be described as an overly festooned rosette.
In fact, the last time I had seen a rosette like that was when I won Grand Champion Swine Showperson as a Senior in my own High School back in Kansas! So, why were we now pinning these things on all of the girls on their respective Homecoming weekends?
Apparently, because the bigger the Mum, the more you are loved.
And because Texans like everything big, these things have taken on ridiculous proportions. In fact, I was given an important piece of advice...put a necklace on it so it doesn't rip the girl's clothing. Yep, they're that big.
And it's not just for the girls. The boys have their own, albeit smaller, sized mum to wear on their arms. Garter belts...on steroids. Hopefully that's the only thing that's on steroids, because, after all, this is Texas and they like their football players big.
Because I'm a crafty gal when I want to be, I plunked down my $43 and took my booty home to create what I thought would be the ugliest, most gaudy piece of fluff imaginable...in other words, perfect. A surprising thing happened while wielding this glue gun, though...I began to swear like a sailor! Granted, this isn't a side of me that I like very much, and have successfully kept it under wraps for over 20 years, but this tradition is so overtly biased that I found myself struggling to not through the entire thing in the trash.
I'm all for traditions. I just find that spending upwards of $200 on an overgrown chrysanthemum is rather egregious.
I'm also very grateful that I didn't grow up with this particular tradition. As the youngest of 8 in a poor farming family, we didn't have extra money to lavish on many extras. Granted, I probably would have worked extra hours in the summer laboring in the fields to save enough to get whatever I could in order to "fit in". I did just that for many other reasons that today, seem quite trivial if I remember them at all.
It finally dawned on me that the reason for my profanity wasn't because it was hard, or because we couldn't afford it. It was because I kept thinking of all of the other girls who wouldn't be getting one. You see, I would have been one of the mum-less. I was never part of the "in crowd", which was even more exclusive in the 62-person high school of my youth.
After the contraption became a legitimate work of Texas art, I began to wonder at the stress I had just put on myself. A big part of it was because I didn't want to disappoint my son, who was really excited to give it to his girlfriend. Anytime he wants to involve me in his life, I'm there, so because this was important to him, it was important to me. The other huge piece was the sheer hypocracy of it all. After all, I constantly espouse the concept that we are all one, that what happens to a part affects the whole, and that everyone has a value that is beyond measure. Yet here I was, curling golden ribbon into ringlets so this mum would have enough bling to blind Stevie Wonder again.
I guess that goes to show you that even an enlightened individual (most of the time, anyway) gets caught up in the fever pitch of the masses, especially if it involves your children.
There, I was greeted by a meager assortment of baubles and bells, as well as the bases for this traditional item. I thought I had struck the jackpot when I found a pre-made one for the low, low price of...(insert choking sound here)... $45! I beat feet to Michael's, thinking that surely they would be cheaper there.
Oh, but I would be wrong. I did find a nicer pre-made one for $50, and one that was even cooler for $99, but I couldn't wrap my head around the concept of paying someone else to glue-gun and staple loads of ribbon, crappy-do ornaments, and curled ribbons onto what can only be described as an overly festooned rosette.
In fact, the last time I had seen a rosette like that was when I won Grand Champion Swine Showperson as a Senior in my own High School back in Kansas! So, why were we now pinning these things on all of the girls on their respective Homecoming weekends?
Apparently, because the bigger the Mum, the more you are loved.
And because Texans like everything big, these things have taken on ridiculous proportions. In fact, I was given an important piece of advice...put a necklace on it so it doesn't rip the girl's clothing. Yep, they're that big.
And it's not just for the girls. The boys have their own, albeit smaller, sized mum to wear on their arms. Garter belts...on steroids. Hopefully that's the only thing that's on steroids, because, after all, this is Texas and they like their football players big.
Because I'm a crafty gal when I want to be, I plunked down my $43 and took my booty home to create what I thought would be the ugliest, most gaudy piece of fluff imaginable...in other words, perfect. A surprising thing happened while wielding this glue gun, though...I began to swear like a sailor! Granted, this isn't a side of me that I like very much, and have successfully kept it under wraps for over 20 years, but this tradition is so overtly biased that I found myself struggling to not through the entire thing in the trash.
I'm all for traditions. I just find that spending upwards of $200 on an overgrown chrysanthemum is rather egregious.
I'm also very grateful that I didn't grow up with this particular tradition. As the youngest of 8 in a poor farming family, we didn't have extra money to lavish on many extras. Granted, I probably would have worked extra hours in the summer laboring in the fields to save enough to get whatever I could in order to "fit in". I did just that for many other reasons that today, seem quite trivial if I remember them at all.
It finally dawned on me that the reason for my profanity wasn't because it was hard, or because we couldn't afford it. It was because I kept thinking of all of the other girls who wouldn't be getting one. You see, I would have been one of the mum-less. I was never part of the "in crowd", which was even more exclusive in the 62-person high school of my youth.
After the contraption became a legitimate work of Texas art, I began to wonder at the stress I had just put on myself. A big part of it was because I didn't want to disappoint my son, who was really excited to give it to his girlfriend. Anytime he wants to involve me in his life, I'm there, so because this was important to him, it was important to me. The other huge piece was the sheer hypocracy of it all. After all, I constantly espouse the concept that we are all one, that what happens to a part affects the whole, and that everyone has a value that is beyond measure. Yet here I was, curling golden ribbon into ringlets so this mum would have enough bling to blind Stevie Wonder again.
I guess that goes to show you that even an enlightened individual (most of the time, anyway) gets caught up in the fever pitch of the masses, especially if it involves your children.
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