True love lives

 Words that stay. That's how a character in a Jim Henson movie described "writing." It is what every writer, every author, wants for their writing - to stay in the minds and hearts of the people their writing touches.

Very few things in this world stay. And even if they might stay, they change. Health, strength, finances, security, that feeling of safety. 

On September 6, my wonderful husband could no longer stay in his body, and he had to go. Fortunately I was able to be there along with my daughter, to hold his hands and be able to say goodbye as he drifted off to sleep, never to wake in this world.

But I didn't want to say goodbye. Inside I was screaming, "NOOO! NOOOOOO!" And yet... his body had had enough. The enemy had won the battle for his body, but not for his spirit. 

And so, I have been thinking about what he left behind, and what he took with him. I have been remembering how he was looking forward to Heaven - a place he called, "Just the Next Room," where he would be waiting for us to arrive. And this morning, I remembered a scene that he and I used to watch together from the movie, "Ghost" ... starring Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore, and Whoopi Goldberg. Near the end, Molly (Demi's character) can finally hear and see Sam's ghost (Patrick's character).  As he gets closer and closer to crossing over to what appears to be a great cloud of individuals waiting for him, he says the one thing he's had trouble saying his whole earthly life - that he loves her, that he's always loved her. Fear has been swallowed up into something much bigger and better. 

And then he tries to describe his experience of the place he's going to: "It's amazing, Molly.  The love you feel inside? you take it with you."  (See https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1232404435042713 ) 

And you know, over the past 3 weeks, I have felt that love. I have felt held, cherished, cared for, and embraced by that love I know he has for me, even now. Even though his body is gone, his face, his memory is in every square inch of this place we called home for over 37 years. And I can feel him here. And I smile, even though my heart misses seeing him, and aches at not being able to reach out and touch him. 

And surrounding and permeating my husband's love, I can also sense the loving arms of God surrounding me, allowing me to rest, to ponder, to cry if I need to. I can't explain it. The closest I can come to it is to say that it's like walking in a quiet mist of pure love. 

One other movie that he and I watched together often is the cult classic, The Princess Bride, and the quote that comes to my mind most often is what Westley says to Buttercup when she realizes that he is not dead. "Death cannot stop true love," he says. "All it can do is delay it for a while." 

Yes. Yes, that's it. And more. Much more. True love ... lives.  

REMEMBER

 In one of my favourite movies, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, (yes, I am a Trekkie!) Mr. Spock knows that his solution to the problem of fixing the warp core and escaping a giant explosion is to enter a room filled with radiation and manually put the core back together. He knows this will result in his death.  As a Vulcan, he knows that he will cease to exist unless he finds another person to entrust with his katra, his eternal soul. As no family members are around, he chooses an unlikely receptacle, Dr. McCoy, with whom he has had a running argument since day one. 

(c) 1982, The Wrath of Khan, Paramount Pictures

 He incapacitates Dr. McCoy from preventing him from entering the warp core room, assumes the Vulcan mind-meld position with his fingers on Dr. McCoy's face, and speaks one word: "REMEMBER." That word has been with me of late, calling me to remember the things that I am going through, even if they are painful in the moment, so that I can honour the people in my life, whether they are with me on Earth or not.The latest journey started in June of this year (2026) and began with results of my husband's CT scan and the doctor's words, "There's a mass on the tail end of the pancreas ... and suspicious spots in the liver ...." which turned out to be malignant. Battling stage 4 cancer, which in the pancreas is almost always aggressive, carries with it a limited prognosis and a great deal of fear. So, I've been focusing on meeting daily needs, enjoying what moments I can, and aiming to increase my husband's dignity (see his fundraising page, which a couple of friends set up in my name). I've also been trying to be more transparent about the process.  I've seen a trend in some of the media that I follow where folks want the end result, or the miracle story, and they don't seem to want to be reminded of the "messy middle." But it's that messy part that makes the miracle all that much more miraculous! So I am being honest and forthright about how tough it is, about the wonderful kindness of people around me, and about the day-to-day items against which we struggle. https://gofund.me/efe0557c3https://gofund.me/efe0557c3I am being intentional to remember every kindness, every day-to-day miracle, every reality that we are facing right now, so that maybe someone will see that and be encouraged somehow. Maybe even one of those someones will be me. The journey is tough. The pain is real. The struggles are not imaginary. And yet. And yet, we are surrounded by love ... by friendship ... by support ... by generosity ... by living miracles in our lives. How many times have I sat down and shaken my head - or cried - out of sheer gratitude and wonder at the people who have stepped up and taken some of our burden upon themselves!! It is truly something to remember.And while I remember these things, I also remember the love of my life. His courage and his peace have been so inspiring. He absolutely trusts his Maker to heal him in whatever path that takes. He endures the pain, asks for help when he needs it (still working on some things, haha) and notices every kind act done on his behalf. As weak and tired as he feels, he appreciates every bit of that love expressed toward him and toward us all. While his body wages war, he knows that he is in Good Hands. And that is the most amazing thing to remember.  How many times have I sat ttps://gofund.me/efe0557c3

Love Heals

I have often berated myself for being so sensitive and for feeling things so deeply. No more.

After Fiona, 2018

I have grown as a person, and a big part of being a human being is feeling things. I don't want to be that person who doesn't feel, who is cold and impersonal, who cannot empathize with others' emotions. Yes, it's dangerous to be that open and vulnerable, but to close myself off from that part of me is to die inside. I have healed from too much to be stifled now.

• I've learned that any relationship that steals my peace is not worth the sacrifice.
• I've learned that my emotions will let me know if a relationship is safe or not.
• I've learned (and am continuing to learn) that I need to trust myself, to trust my gut reactions, because they know something my logical mind cannot process. 

In so doing, I am learning to love who I am more than I used to. And that this is a good thing. One cannot pour from an empty cup. I now spend time filling my own cup from the source of unconditional Love, and by reaching out to others who love me for who I am.

These are thoughts I have been pondering over the course of the last couple of weeks. If feeling weak or more sensitive is a by-product of this process, then I remind myself that I have grown enough to allow myself to experience these feelings and process them rather than hide from them in Denial.

It feels good, this new space.

Fulfillment

 I was reflecting on the path my life has taken, all the people that have passed through it, those who have walked alongside for a season, some longer than others, and how I felt at different stages of my life.

From early on, I seemed obsessed with doing things for people that they would appreciate. I never heard the words, "Thank you" coming from my mother. So every week, I would station myself at the exit door of the grocery store and open the (non-automatic) door for people with their arms full of grocery bags or a cart full. And they would say "Thank you!" and I could tell they meant it. It filled me up with a sense of being able to make a difference in someone's life, even if only for a few moments.

All my life, I chased that feeling. As I entered the workforce, and found my first career in the public service, I got to feel that fulfillment - not fully, but enough - so that I would come home feeling satisfied that I had helped at least one person that day. That "making a difference" rewarding feeling kept me in my career for 21 years.

And now that I am in my 2nd career, that sense of fulfillment and having made a difference is so common that I get to experience it on a regular basis, and I know that I have found my niche in counselling. I usually come home with a smile on my face from having seen someone's "light bulb" come on, or having been able to sit with someone in their pain, knowing that they needed someone to do that. It's a wonderful, FULL, feeling.

Free photo Swan by Noname_13 at Pixabay

I am so blessed to have that opportunity to do what I love and make enough money at it to meet my needs and the needs of my family. I'm so grateful for that. 

Not everyone gets to feel that feeling - those are the heroes of the world. They work at jobs they hate just to meet the needs of their families and they sacrifice so much for that. I did as well, at one time. I don't know why I got to be so blessed - well, maybe I do, but it has nothing to do with my own worthiness or theirs - we are all worthy. 

Helping people to see their own worth and reach for their dreams is one of the greatest things about what I do. It is the most fulfilling part of my ... dare I call it work when it feels so much like play? Yes, there are difficult times, but for the most part, it is fulfilling. It meets that age-old need to know that my contribution helps someone else. Amazing. Simply amazing.

Contentment

 "It's my life, it's now or never;
I ain't gonna live forever!
I just wanna live while I'm alive:
It's. My. Life."        - Jon bon Jovi, 2000

My daughter used to listen to this song when she was a teen (she's 31 now.) I hated it. I considered it a selfish, godless, rebellious statement. 

Now, I'm beginning to see the real meaning behind bon Jovi's words. I've spent far too long being dead while I'm alive, going through the motions, regretting yesterday and either fearing or not being able to wait until tomorrow. Never was my mind on where I was, what I was doing, or who I was. 

Contented kitty!
Image by mysgreen1 at pixabay

In my journey of the last five years or so, there is one word that keeps recurring for me. That word is CONTENTMENT. It encompasses letting go of yesterday and of tomorrow. It means living in the present, enjoying the now, and finding YES in as much and in as many ways as possible. It also means accepting myself as I am, and not wishing I were someone else.

It didn't come easily. I'm still learning, as a matter of fact. However, disciplining myself to come back to the present has been one of the most healthful, wholesome exercises I have had the good fortune to stumble upon and practice. Achieving a calm, unruffled state on a regular basis has reduced my stress, improved my sleep, and made me more willing to accept other people and events as they are. This, I have learned, brings contentment: a lasting state of peace. 

In that state, I am free to express my emotions and act for the betterment of others, while not taking anything personally. My life experiences and the people with whom I have had the privilege of interacting all have contributed to that mindset. I am a better person, a better wife and mother, a better friend, and a better citizen because of it. 

I am a spiritual being who just so happens to inhabit a physical body ... for now. The notion of a life beyond this one has inspired me to try to enrich the now, not to bemoan my difficulties and pine away for 'pie in the sky bye and bye.' This, too, enhances my present contentment. I feel safe and secure. I trust. I love. I believe. I act from those core values. 

And along the way, if my journey touches yours and makes it better, I'm perfectly fine with that. In fact, that's where I find another essential of contentment: joy. 

2020 - accepting the good, the bad, and the ugly

 As I sit down to write this post today, my dog is at my side, cuddled up to me, in utter doggie contentment. I think to myself how I can relate to that feeling of being right where I most want to be, doing exactly what I most want to do. It is from that place of fullness that I write about 2020: a year that, for many, has been a horrific disaster from start to finish. 

There is no doubt that historically, the world has changed significantly in the last 12 months. Politics, pandemics, persecution, protests, posturing, and petulance have marked our Western society throughout the year. Many worldwide have felt hopeless, harassed, even hunted. And as we come to the close of it, there are some sparks of hope that the disease which has intensified our societal problems may have an end in sight. However, it does not mean that there are not still problems. 

There has been much to be sad about this year. People have died, either through illness or ignorance. But in the midst of it all, there have also been signs of life, light, laughter, and love.

For me, 2020 has been a time of great sorrow and of great joy. The great sorrow came in February when my brother passed away suddenly after having succumbed to an infection that left him too weak to get to a phone. Feeling empty and alone, I turned my attention to adopting a puppy, who quickly filled our home and my life with laughter, love, and life as he explored and learned each new thing. We got him in the early stages of the pandemic, before we got the hang of this whole social distancing thing. Fortunately, nobody was ill and we were even able to tend to his vaccinations and his neutering as time went on. 

In September, I began a new chapter for me as I started the long-awaited practicum placement that my university requires for me to get my Masters in Counselling Psychology. What I didn't foresee was how wonderfully fulfilling it was (and is) to be there and be present for each of my charges, to listen to them and to watch them grow in themselves and their relationships with themselves, others, and sometimes with God. There have been challenges of course, but I am doing something that I love doing. 

So for me, all told, 2020 hasn't been so bad. Sure, it sucks to not be able to see my friends and family as often, but I have my little family here, which includes a couple of other people in our bubble (the "kith" of kith and kin), and of course the animals. I get to do a lot of things that make me happy, and my stress levels are vastly reduced from a year ago. I guess it has to do with that all-important little word called acceptance. 

Photo "Sun Ray Behind Dark Cloud"
courtesy of Sura Nualpradid at
freedigitalphotos.net

When I accept the things that come my way and don't wish them gone or hurried up, when I receive them and enjoy whatever moments of goodness they bring to me, it is then that I can live in peace. These are lessons I'm learning in this new phase of my life - lessons like living in the now, doing what I can and letting go of what I can't, and making time to laugh and enjoy living without fretting about the future or regretting the past. Too long I have lived with those thieves of joy. It's time to step up, to move ahead, and to enrich my every day by seeing and believing the best, even if things seem bad or ugly. The truth is, there is always some good to be found if you look for it. If you look for bad things, you'll find them. So I choose to look for good things, and let the bad ones go. 

Onward to 2021 - a new year, a new decade. I'm grateful. If our paths cross and we walk together, be that virtually or in person, I hope we part ways encouraged and strengthened. 

5-4-3-2-1

Sometimes, the rush of passing time, deadlines, expectations, and worries about the future are too much for me to handle, and I find myself getting overwhelmed, distracted, and stressed out. When I realize this is happening, (and I realize it far less often than I would like), I return to some little techniques that I learned last fall and which have helped me to get centered, grounded, and  calm. 

One of these techniques is the topic of today's post.  5-4-3-2-1 is something I can do at any time, any place, even when driving (especially in daylight hours when the roads are not slippery.) Let me tell you how it works.

It involves the five senses: sight, hearing, touch, smell and taste. What it does is it allows a person to notice their surroundings in concrete ways, and keeps them in the present. 

Let's pretend I'm driving on a nice sunny day, but my thoughts are whirling around things that might or might not happen, the health of a loved one, etc. I realize I'm doing this and that it's stressing me out, so I begin.

5. I pick FIVE things (one at a time and dwelling on each one) that I can see. I choose to enjoy the sight of it, either the color or the shape or whatever. So ... I see a blue house in the field over there. It has white shutters and looks like an old farm-house. It has a barn in the background and I smile as I think about how those who live there might enjoy a day like this, outside with the animals. That's one. Then I pick a second, dwelling on each one in my mind as I look at it. If I run out of things to see (which is unlikely while driving), I think about my favorite sights: a rainbow, a horse running in a field, and so forth. I enjoy each one; I take my time doing it.

4. Then, I pick FOUR things that I can hear. They could be the sound of the tires on the road, the music I'm listening to, and so forth. I take time to let each one come into my consciousness and make me smile. 

3. I pick THREE things that I can feel.  The cool of the fan on a hot day. The vibration of the steering wheel in my hand, and so forth.

2. Then I move to smell. I pick TWO things I can smell, or that I LIKE to smell. I let each one delight me.

1. Finally, I pick ONE thing that I can taste or that I love to taste... same idea.

Free Image by David Mark at Pixabay

By that time, I can tell that my shoulders are looser, my back less tense, and my breathing slower and deeper. The things I was stressing about seem a bit less important in the here and now than they were ten minutes ago.  

The above exercise is called a "grounding technique" and it is one tool that works to varying degrees for people who have anxiety, panic attacks, and/or flashbacks to traumatic events. It also cultivates gratitude, and reminds me that no matter what else is going on in my life, there is always something to appreciate, that the ability to experience the world is a tremendous gift, and that I'm okay in this present moment. 

There are more exercises - so many breathing exercises, for example, that focus on the here and now of your own breath. You don't have to be a yoga master, or practice Buddhism, to do them, just look them up on your favorite search engine. I find that 4-7-8 breathing is a good way to calm myself when I am over-stressed or nervous about a meeting or interview. I inhale slowly into my belly for the count of four, hold for the count of seven, and exhale slowly for the count of eight - and repeat again and again, until I am calmer and more at peace.  

Happy breathing everyone! I hope you have a really wonderful day.