of hearts and memories and home and peach trees and turning 60

Three years ago, my family surprised me with fruit trees for my birthday – a pear, a plum, and a peach tree. As is always true in life, I had no clue then how much my life was getting ready to change or how different my daily landscape would become.

 

Fast forward to last Spring, the months when all my energy became focused on going to heart rehab -- and on the reality of moving and finding a new house in Oklahoma City.

 

As I look back on it now, it’s downright humorous to see how the two became one!

 

For the past year and a bit, I have felt an undeniable parallel connection between the house we lovingly called Casa Scap and my body. It may sound ridiculous, but as I’ve struggled and stumbled over the physical changes and reality of a heart condition and my aging body, I have also fought and cried over the changes and the letting go of that old but familiar home of 23 years.

 

I know it’s just a house. And I know we will make new memories in the new house. Believe me, I know. That Waverly Ct house was the 23^rd house I have lived in! 

 

It’s not just about the memories, or the stories, or the Sacraments that we have celebrated there – from First Communions and weddings, to baby showers for my Grands. 

 

It’s not just about my wrinkles, or the sagging, or the new scars and meds – or the fact that I’ll be turning SIXTY in a couple of weeks.

 

It’s about ALL of it. 

 

Saying goodbye to our Norman home reminds me – no, REFLECTS and visualizes for me, how my role as a mother has changed, how different my life as a grandmother is now, and how precious is the life we have left, both as a couple and as individuals. 

 

The last time I walked through our Waverly Court house a few days ago, my eyes watered as I could see with my heart’s eyes the many beautiful moments we experienced there. I consciously and deliberately offered prayers of thanksgiving for the walls and rooms that allowed us to welcome and love the dozens, or rather hundreds, of young people over the years. 

 

And I brought home, to our new house, a bag full of pears and peaches. I laughed out loud when I saw that the fruit trees were loaded with peaches and pears – for the first time, ever! 

Oh, God’s sense of humor…

my strength in all my crosses

“My HEART is ready, O God; 

I will sing, sing your praise.”

~psalm 108

May the eyes of our HEARTS be enlightened, that we may know what is the hope that belongs to God’s call, what are the riches of glory in his inheritance among the holy ones.”

~Ephesians 1:18

“How long must I bear grief in my soul,

this sorrow in my HEART day and night?…

As for me, I trust in your merciful love.

Let my HEART rejoice in your saving help;

Let me sing to the Lord for his goodness to me…”

~psalm 13

“I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel,

who even at night directs my HEART…

And so my HEART rejoices, my soul is glad;

even my body shall rest in safety.”

psalm 16

“May the peace of God which surpasses all understanding guard our HEARTS in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

~Philippians 4:7

“You, then, shall be my strength, O my God! You shall be my guide, my director, my counselor, my patience, my knowledge, my peace, my justice, and my prudence. i will have recourse to you in my temptations, in my dryness, in my repugnances, in my weariness, in my fears; or rather I will no longer fear either the illusions or the tricks of the demon, nor my own weakness, my indiscretions, nor even my mistrust of myself. For you must be my strength in all my crosses.”

~Saint Claude de la Colombière

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For the past several months — or rather, more than likely since my first angioplasty this past year, I have felt understandably off-balance. Even as my body recovered and got used to the new meds, my emotions have been all over the planet — and my spirit has felt, for lack of a better word, unsettled. 

Like a walk through dense, deep fog, everything has been just a little out of focus. And the peace that I have been yearning for has felt just out of reach. 

Fearful. Anxious. Unsure of myself. And on top of it all, a thick dose of guilt about everything I have been feeling. How am I not overwhelmed with gratefulness? Why am I not jumping to the sky with joy? I did not have a heart attack. we caught things before “the widowmaker” stopped my heart, before anything irreversible happened. 

In other words, why am I not, well, completely overwhelmed by courage, hope, thanksgiving, and life?

The root of the word COURAGE is COR, the Latin word for HEART. So, in the word’s earliest form, the word COURAGE literally meant, “to speak one’s mind by telling all that is in one’s HEART.”

If I am to tell all of what’s in my HEART, I must begin by acknowledging that learning this past year that I have a heart condition, makes me feel vulnerable, and often, extremely fragile. 

Yet any doubts that I have and that I acknowledge about myself, my ability to handle things, or more importantly, about my faith, does not make me unworthy, unfaithful, or lacking. 

It makes me open and real and seeking. And that is where God is. I am not alone.

That is my COR, my heart, the source of my COURAGE.

the many colors of grief, part 2

 

I will be here

I will be strong

I'll face my fears

When the night is long

And still go on

I will be brave

I will be bold

Follow my faith

To a higher road

And I'm not there yet

But I will be

~Wynona Judd, chorus of “I will be”

+   +   +

Getting it all out doesn't mean we need to be victims. It doesn't mean we need to revel in our misery, finding status in our martyrdom. It doesn't mean we won't go on to set boundaries. It doesn't mean we won't take care of ourselves.

Sometimes, getting it all out is an essential part of taking care of ourselves. We reach a point of surrender so we can move forward.                                                                      ~Melody Beattie, from “The Language of Letting Go”

+   +   +

I tend to be incredibly hard and impatient with myself.

My wise friend Pat once advised me to treat myself with the same patience, mercy, and understanding that I treated the people around me—especially when they were walking through a difficult situation.

So, as I mentioned last time, I have been deliberately giving myself time and space to find my way  -- and find my grounding and Peace – as I mourn and move forward in the new life of being a heart patient.

I’m not going to lie. It has been a lot to take in.

I dislike (aka. hate) the many colors of bruises that decorate various parts of my body each day, with no recollection about how I got them! I really dislike trying to figure out the side effects of my new meds.

As I was saying to my mother in law earlier today, I have days when I’m good, and I have days when I’m teary, and I have days when I’m pissed off, and I have days when I am so full of gratitude that I can’t help but be teary, again!  

But that sounds like living life, doesn’t it?

Today, it is okay to just say that I may not "be" where I want to be, that I’m not there yet – but I will be!

NOTE:

Here’s a song that reflects my current colors of grief, as well as all its lyrics -- words that have strengthened my heart this week!

 Video of Wynonna Judd

"I will be"

          Been caught in a downpour of a rain of stones

Felt like an exile in the world I had known 

So I sought the shelter of my own soul

And stayed inside 

I found no comfort in placing blame 

I saw the hope that lay just beyond the pain 

The past is a prison and I won't wear those chains 

And I won't hide, oh no I will be here I will be strong I'll face my fears When the night is long And still go on I will be brave I will be bold Follow my faith To a higher road And I'm not there yet But I will be I could choose to keep my feet upon the beaten path 

Never cross the open field for the one snake in the grass 

But I'd rather risk my heart then never get the chance 

To find my way, to find my way

ps. photos of permanent Chihuly exhibit at Oklahoma City Museum of Art

resting in the Love which began it all

”What feels hopeless — is where you meet more Jesus... What they call the dark night of the soul may feel as endlessly black as the limitless cosmos — but darkness isn’t God, darkness isn’t infinite.

Darkness has limits, darkness has an end, darkness has borders. 

And sometimes you exhale like the expanse of a night sky, like even your breath calls your Father’s name, YWHW. 

And you breathe: All darkness has shores and there is always laughter on the other side. You have to believe this.  

And when you can’t believe— just breathe. 

Next breath, next thing, next step — and you will get through now.

He knew: He made your every breath to be the sound of His name, the endless song that comforts your only soul.”  

                                               ~Ann Voskamp

+     +     +

“I have heard your prayer and seen your tears. I will heal you.” ❤

~2 Kings 20: 5

+     +     +

“[T]he true consolations of religion are not rosy and cozy, but com-forting in the true meaning of that word: com-fort: with strength. Strength to go on living, and to trust that whatever Joy needs… is being taken care of by that Love which began it all.”

~Madeleine L’Engle

+     +     +

For the past few weeks, I have spent a considerable amount of energy and time learning how to live with my new heart.

If it sounds dramatic, it’s because… well, that ‘s how I have felt. Not dramatic in the sense of melodramatic, or theatrical. But the past month has been a dramatic experience for me, as in… intense, striking, vivid, life-changing.

One way that I have been able to describe it to my Hub, is that I have experienced several life-altering physical experiences in the past – surgeries that flipped my life upside down, for example.  But this was my first life-threatening physical reality.

So in the midst of reading many texts to learn more about my condition, and reading texts to learn about my new meds, and journaling to process my emotions, and doing cardiac rehab three times a week – in the midst of all of it, I have given myself as much time as possible to breathe and to just be. 

But more importantly, I have given myself time to breathe and to be still… in the arms of the One who loves me most, and the One who knows me best.

With each deep breath, I am keenly aware of my beating heart. Sometimes the heartbeat is so strong that my whole chest feels like it’s bursting. At times I am even aware of a flutter, as if I can literally and acutely feel my heart beating, at least, like I never have before.

I don’t so much feel like I’m walking in painful darkness. There are too many stars, too many moments of light and goodness, in the most unexpected moments and sources—a melody, a written note, a Scripture prayer, a TV show!

But I know there is still much to sort through.

Like a bursting Oklahoma thunderstorm, my emotions and thoughts have been fast-moving, unpredictable, and sometimes volatile.

And when that happens, I follow the same “storm readiness steps” with my spirit that we are taught to follow here in Tornado Alley:

·      be alert,

·      listen to the warnings,

·      take precautions at the possibility of dangerous threats, and when needed,

·      go to your storm-safe place!