Life is Beautiful

What an amazing day I had today. It started with a meeting at 10am with the transplant social worker. We discussed my son's extended stay in the hospital and how it must be affecting him. We then moved on to my life and the many changes I have gone through over the last 7 months or so. By the time I left her office, I felt confident and calm about going ahead into the unknown next few months.

From there I went to visit my son where we had a great visit over lunch. He actually got up to eat and we went for a jaunt down to the cafeteria after lunch for some chocolate milk. He managed to stay up for over 2.5 hours and felt good and not too tired when he got back into bed.

Physio came by and took my son off for some exercises. I went down to the Village Square for a Passionfruit Tazo Tea from Starbucks and some fresh BC strawberries and raspberries. I called the family back home to confirm that my son was going through a mild organ rejection and that the prognosis was good. When I was done, I had also cancelled my husband's trip down to see us for the weekend. He would have arrived tomorrow.

So - why is Life Beautiful??? I FEEL good. Today was right in my world. I feel I was in the right place at the right time - synchronicity again.

So much of what is going on right now in my life could be so very bad, but I feel stronger, happier and more comfortable with myself than at any other time in my life. Yes - life is beautiful.

Synchronicity

Definition: Synchronicity - answered prayer. (from The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron)

Being in Vancouver for the last 4 months, I have had time to tackle some life long dreams and wishes that I never seemed to have enough time for before. One of those was to focus on journalling every day. Yes, I have had this blog for a couple of years, but the postings have been stilted and far between. The topics have sometimes been childish and the content has been quickly typed and posted. Just not the blog of a serious "writer".

I had hoped my scrapbooking would open up a venue to spotlight my gracious handwriting and stellar wit, but alas, my scrapbooking has hit a slump - almost a writer's block of scrapping. Too many pictures that are not the best photography and too little dialog to make them interesting enough to scrap.

So that opens the other plan - photography. Last fall my husband gifted me with a beautiful Sony @330 DSLR camera complete with 2 different lenses. My daughter and her husband ordered a custom made camera bag for me to carry everything. I have been sporadically studying how to use aperture settings vs shutter speed and white balance . . . and I still end up guessing if I have a decent picture or not. So much for weekly strolls through the back yard catching the flowers, butterflies and hummingbirds . . . beautiful fodder for my scrapbooks of flowers and Victorian pictures.

So suddenly I find myself walking up to complete strangers and asking if I can join their "writing group". Where did that come from? Yes, my morning pages for my studies of The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron are coming along and I have been watching the changes in my "self talk" and my communication with God, The Creator. Yes, I do have a self journal started to catalog the days with Chris in the hospital. Yes, I do have a journal of things that intrigue me and capture my interest. Yes, I do have a 28 x 30 inch scrapbook of items and pictures of my stay in Vancouver including pictures sent to me by my Grandchildren (who I miss terribly).

BUT - write a story - or novel - it has always been a dream of mine - BUT! Where to begin? And how did this happen? I attend a Presbyterian Church Service for the first time in over 13 years and feel such a sense of homecoming and love that I - what - lose my mind? I cannot embarrass myself with these lovely people by asking to join their gifted group as an empty palette, offering nothing of value and looking to take from them their knowledge and kindness. Could I?

How my mind rolls and turns with random thoughts of creativity - great novels and storylines. A series of books based on a woman in her late 50's struggling to make sense of the changes in her life making her "find herself" when she thought she was true and surely "found". Oh the fun I could have moving her through crisis after crisis, where each event twists her well thought out values and makes her ask "why now?"

Surely this is my quest for my Creator to show me my path to walk. I want so much to reflect His goodness and faithfulness, even when I have merrily gone my own way, taking charge and making things happen MY WAY. Ha! He was just walking slightly behind me so all I had to do was turn my head slightly to see Him, but instead I focused on my own vision.

I so have a sense of being in the right place at exactly the right time with the right people. The fears I have are just that - my fears and insecurities. This gift I have been presented with is God's power, guiding and working in my life. I am truly blessed. I will do my best to live up to the challenges and, when I feel insecure and fearful, I need only glance over and see God gently smiling and encouraging me to continue to move forward under His guidance. Yes, synchronicity at work.

Fear

I have always said that I didn't want to live TOO long. My family has jokingly said they will keep me around so long as I am "entertaining". I think that will be ok, but I do have a fear of being old and weak and unable to "live". Visiting in the hospital there are mostly older people on th ward. They are in various stages of sub-acute care. There is a white haired lady that carries a book out to the nurses station and sits and reads on a chair there until she needs a new book. She is fully dressed and walks with a walker to get to and from her room. Down the hall is a woman laying in her bed sleeping. Every time I pass her room, she is asleep. The tonight in doing some searching for some sayings and poetry, I find this poem. I am struck with the reality and the pain. This is my fear.

Author: unknown
~An Old Lady's Poem~

What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you're looking at me?
A crabby old woman, not very wise,
uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
and forever is losing a stocking or shoe.....
Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,
with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill....
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse; you're not looking at me
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
as I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten ..with a father and mother,
brothers and sisters, who love one another
A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet,
dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at twenty -- my heart gives a leap,
remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own,
who need me to guide and a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast,
bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
but my man's beside me to see I don't mourn.
At fifty once more, babies play round my knee,
again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead;
I look at the future, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own,
and I think of the years and the love that I've known.
I'm now an old woman .. and nature is cruel;
'Tis jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart,
there is now a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
and now and again, my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
and I'm loving and living life over again.
I think of the years . all too few, gone too fast,
and accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people, open and see,
not a crabby old woman; look closer ..see ME!!

Living Life in Two Cities

For the first time in 3 1/2 months, I got to go home to Q where my house, work and family live. I used to live there . . . eons ago. I had exactly 5 days to reconnect, re-establish and re-root, before I had to head back to the big city where my son is recovering from his liver transplant etal. (a different story there).

Now that I am back "home" in the big city and my 5 days of being "back" are over - well, I believe the word "confusion" is closest to what I am feeling right now. I ran myself ragged every day trying to squeeze in all the exciting things and all my fabulous family and friends into "meaningful" visits. I tried to catch naps between coffee times and meals, but my cell never stopped ringing. How can such a great time be so annoying? I am used to being exhausted after trying to do too much but this has made me almost angry. Upset isn't even close to how I am feeling.

Guess my private journalling will have to go through a new phase of morning pages to reveal what is really going on in my head.

Leaving was easy - and hard.