HOW I SPENT MY SUMMER VACATION

Being a great lover of mysteries, I had just finished the latest in a series of mysteries set in Quebec, and suddenly found myself with a burning desire to visit.  A trip to Quebec immediately went on my bucket list!  So when we were on a one day bus tour recently and saw that the tour company was offering a summer trip to Quebec, we signed up.  We just returned from what was one of the most enjoyable, plus relaxing and refreshing vacations, we have ever taken.

The first pleasure was not having to drive the eight or so hours it would have taken us to make the trip in our car.  On a bus, we could nap, read, do crosswords and play games to pass the time without having to think about navigating the traffic.  Someone else made the hotel reservations, planned the meals, and the places we would visit.  It was glorious!

When we arrived in Montreal we were delighted to find such a large city with so few people.  As we age, we don’t do as well dodging crowds of people.  Here we could walk on big city streets with few pedestrians, and it felt safe.  What a delight to look out our hotel window and see the huge dome of a church right next door in the foreground, ringed around by the stone, metal and glass modern skyscrapers!

While in Montreal we visited two huge cathedrals.  The grandeur of these churches was breathtaking, yet the guide said there were perhaps only a few hundred people there on Sunday in a cathedral that could hold thousands.  It made me sad that no expense had been spared on such opulence, yet few visited it anymore to worship God.

It took a little time before I realized something that made its presence felt by its absence!  The noise level was lower!  Everywhere we went in Montreal and Quebec City there was music, but not the blaring, loud rock music we so often hear in the US in shopping malls, elevators, hair salons, and restaurants.  In this part of Canada we noticed street musicians everywhere.  In the town square, next to an outdoor restaurant, at a street market – all playing soft music.  It was absolutely delightful, creating an atmosphere of culture and quiet that we loved.

We’ve never been to Europe but being in Quebec City felt as if we were.  The walled city has horse drawn carriages, street after street of outdoor restaurants, and narrow cobblestone streets to walk, flowers in window boxes, street performers, and beautiful parks and town squares.  Everywhere I looked there was something beautiful to see.

I found myself thanking the Lord over and over for the beauty, the quiet, the wonderful time together with Jim, the sunshine, the modern and the old side by side, the food, the grandeur, the sound of the French language being spoken, and the chance to rest and be refreshed by it all.  All that He has made brings Him glory.

THE INVISIBLE ELDERLY

I’ve often said that if I believed in reincarnation, I’d want to come back as an Italian.  I know lots of Italians and they really know how to turn a fabulous dinner into a social occasion.  They love food – and what’s not to love about Italian food – but they never hurry the eating of it.  When it comes to food, my motto has always been, “Eat to live”, while theirs clearly is “Live to eat”!  I envy their ability to take a wonderful meal and make it an occasion to laugh and talk and enjoy one another.

But now that I’m in my 60’s, I just might prefer to come back as an Asian, and it has nothing to do with food.  Asians have a whole different attitude toward the elderly from us Americans.  When I visit the local nail salon run by Asians, they treat me like I’m a fragile, but revered, visiting dignitary.  They take my purse, hold my arm, and lead me cautiously to the nail dryer. 

Then it was a couple of young Asian girls, a few years ago when I was working in a retail clothing store, who told me I was beautiful and they hoped their moms aged as well.  Only my dad ever said I was beautiful.  It did wonders for my ego and made me long to be Asian once again!

So why am I wasting “paper” on this topic, you might ask?  Well, I’ve begun to notice lately, especially when I’m out with my 30 year old daughter Becky (who does happen to be blond, blue eyed, and easy on the eyes – and THAT may have something to do with it) that I seem to have become invisible to most people under 50.  She’s the one the waiters and salespeople address first, me second, if I’m addressed at all.

I wasn’t having an easy time aging anyway so being invisible isn’t playing well with me.

My mother in law, who turned 92 this year, relates her frustrations with invisibility every time she visits.  She is not a wall flower by any means, but she complains often that few younger people even notice her or engage her in conversation anymore.  That makes me sad.

My own mom, who never graduated from high school, but managed to rise to the rank of vice president of a savings and loan, and who had the BEST sense of humor, was just the patient in room 210 after a stroke made understanding her difficult.  It broke my heart that people continued to care for her body when inside her mind there was still a funny, intelligent person waiting for someone to listen and try and understand. When the doctor found that her false teeth had slipped off the side of the bed, she asked, with a twinkle in her eye, if he also happened to find the salami sandwich she was eating at the time still attached to her teeth.  That was just a sample of Mom’s humor he’d have missed if he hadn’t listened carefully! 

The problem of the invisibility of the aged is one of the reasons I became involved in hospice as a volunteer.  I wanted the elderly people I visit to feel that they still have value, they’re still worthy of being known, even though their memories aren’t what they used to be, and they’ve lost much of their independence.  Whenever I visit one of them at a nearby nursing home, I eventually find myself in the center of a little cluster of folks in need of a smile or a kind word, or a hand to hold.

So I make it my habit now to go out of my way to relate to the elderly, and I have been blessed to meet some pretty amazing people!  I’ve met a 90 year old who fought in a revolution in Cuba in her youth, another with a doctorate in chemistry, another who was an English lit professor in a college and another who was still commuting to her job in New York City at the age of 81! Before I got to know them, they all fell into the category of “grandma types", but there were really interesting women inside those aging bodies just waiting for someone to notice them.

So my plan to fight invisibility in the lives of the elderly I know is to look them in the eye, smile, and ask some questions, like: So, tell me about yourself; your family; your childhood; the work you did, etc.  With a little coaxing, I know they’ll be off and running and my time will have been well spent.

And in my own life, if I can't be Asian, at least I can continue to seize what life the Lord has yet in store for me and really LIVE it.  So the next time you see a gray haired lady climbing walls at the rock climbing center, or hang gliding from the Palisades, or helping to lay sidewalk in the Bahamas, don’t walk on by, and don’t tell her she’s too old to be doing that stuff – just wave and say hi, it just might be me! 

And someday, if you happen to be visiting a nursing home and you see someone sitting in a wheel chair looking lonely, look her in the eye, smile and say: So tell me about yourself - and I will!

Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young and Ringing Phones

Jim and I went out to dinner tonight.  About half way through the meal the familiar strains of Crosby, Still, Nash and Young start going through my mind:  “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.”  I probably went for years without the words to this song going through my mind – until the age of the cell phone.  Now they come into my mind all the time.  Like tonight at dinner. . . .

Jim and I are quietly chatting and eating our meal when a phone rings.  For a minute it only registers as incongruous.  My mind asks itself: Why is a phone ringing in a crowded restaurant dining room?  And then I remember, it’s the age of the cell phone. 

But the phone didn’t just ring.  The person at the next table, who was sharing her dinner with two children and an older lady I assumed was her mother, answered.  For some reason the person on the other end of her phone didn’t answer back right away, so the lady felt she had to ask three times, “Who is this?”, before hanging up.  I could feel myself becoming crazed!  It wasn’t long after that another lady at a table nearby also took a phone call, and left her husband to eat his dinner in silence while she chatted away.  All of a sudden, there they were again, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, with their familiar strains of: “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.”

Before cell phones, we would have thought it BEYOND rude to ignore the person on the other side of the table at dinner so that we could talk to someone not even in the same room, sometimes even when they refused to answer back!  We would just have loved the one we were with!  Do you know what it says to me when a person interrupts their time with me to respond to a ringing phone?  It says: “Sorry, but this call is SO much more important than YOU.  I have to take it.”

I often meet people for some informal counseling.  Usually these meetings last for an hour or an hour and a half.  Do you know what I do with my phone?  I shut it off, or I leave it in the car.  If I have to take it with me, I keep it on vibrate and only CHECK the name of the caller if I have to do so.  If I suspect it’s not important I silence it.

When you’re with ME, I want to convey that you are the most important person in my life at that moment.  So, like Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, I’m going to choose to love the one I’m WITH and not the one on the other end of the phone.

When I’m with YOU, I want to feel that I have YOUR full attention.  I want to feel that I’m the most important person in your life at that moment and your time with me has value.

So, the next time I meet with you, you can take that call, but it had better be IMPORTANT, or I just might grab your phone from your hand and submerge it in the nearest liquid available.  You’ve been warned!  :)

REMEMBERING DAD ON FATHER'S DAY '14

My dad died back in 2000.  It has been a long time without him.  As I was sitting in church this morning, listening to several men talk about their dads, I thought about mine.  I feel sad when I think about my dad because it seemed he spent so much of his life either unhappy or angry.  However, I do have some great memories that make him special to me.

When I was in late elementary school, Friday nights were spent with my dad.  We’d have dinner at home and then we’d do something, just us two.  Sometimes we’d go to a movie.  I clearly remember the time I convinced him to take me to see a movie called, “Adam and Eve”, a story right from the pages of the Bible!  The actors were wearing full length body stockings designed to make them look as if they weren’t wearing any clothing.  For years my dad talked about how embarrassed he was to be seeing that movie with his daughter!  As I got older and he told that story, I just thought it was funny!  We always finished up the night at 2 Guys in North Bergen where he’d treat me to at least one 45 RPM record.  (Okay, now I’m dating myself!  Anyone younger than 60 probably won’t know what I’m talking about!).  I loved those nights out with Dad.  They lasted until I reached an age when I didn’t want him to hold my hand anymore.  He was devastated.  I was your typical 14 year old!

Occasionally, we’d travel with the family to visit my mom’s sister Joan who owned an inn in Rehoboth Beach, DE.  Because we were both introverts, we could only take so much visiting, so when we had our chance, we’d sneak off to the boardwalk for some Thrasher’s Fries, and we’d take a long walk.  One of the things I loved about my dad is that because we were both quiet, we didn’t have to talk on these walks.  We simply walked and enjoyed one another’s company.

My dad had a pet name for me, Dossy.  No one else has ever called me by that name, and I’m glad.  It’s dumb. . . but most of all, it was my Dad’s name for me, and his alone. 

My dad frequently told me I was beautiful.  He was prejudiced, and off the mark, but it was kind of him to say so.

It was my dad who gave me such a clear sense that it was okay to be me.  Yes, I was quiet, but so was he.  It’s not easy being quiet in a world where extroverts dominate, believe you me, so Dad’s loving affirmation of me, just the way I was, was probably the most loving thing he did for me.

I was retelling my spiritual journey to someone the other day when I remembered, it was Dad who encouraged me in that.  He and Mom had sent my brother and me to a church just a few doors from our house when I was somewhere between 2^nd and 6^th grade.  They stayed home.  Before that time, we had never attended church. 

Eventually, we moved away from that church, and when I was in middle school, I began to ask my parents to take us to church.  So began the quest, with my Dad, to find a local church.  I remember trying several churches of different Protestant denominations, before we settled on one just across Washington St. Park in lower Union City, New Jersey.  We were both moved by the passionate heart for Jesus that the young pastor of that church had.  From that time on, we went to church as a family and my parents continued to attend churches even after they moved to Florida without us.

I wish I could say that my dad was a believer in Jesus, but I don’t know for sure. He could be moved to tears by a sermon.  He would think about God and read his Bible, but mostly only when he was in ill health, which was on and off for the last 20 or so years of his life.  I know I never saw him experience the joy of the Lord in all his life, however, I still hope he is one of those who greet me when I get to my heavenly home.

On this Father’s Day, I miss him and the connection we always had because we were so much alike.  Thank you Dad for being my dad.

EXPANDING THE KINGDOM THROUGH E MAIL ONE PERSON AT A TIME

When Jim and I were in Florida back in April I had a phone call from someone whose name I didn’t recognize.  He was from an organization which sprung out of Campus Crusade for Christ and which endeavors to share the gospel all over the world.  I had completely forgotten that about 2 years ago now I had expressed an interest in volunteering.  And then, life intruded, as it has a way of doing.  Now, however, his call reactivated my interest.  Within a couple of days I had filled out the application form, including references, and sent it in.  I’m into my fifth week of hands on training and I am in awe of what the Lord is up to in this world in which we live! 

Each day an e mail comes into my inbox from some far flung corner of the world from an individual who has logged onto our website. There they can find lots of information about the gospel of Jesus Christ, including how to have a personal relationship with Him, plus discipleship information for new believers.  When they respond with a decision, or even just interest, or they have a specific prayer request, their e mails come to us volunteers and we respond.

In these few short weeks I have had about 30 opportunities to share the gospel, and it has been AWESOME!  All over the world there are people who are hungry for Jesus and asking for help to know Him – even in places where doing so might have dire consequences for them. I have been asked to pray for them to resist temptation, for family members to come to faith, for help in growing to know Jesus and walk with Him. And I have been asked questions about heaven and how to recognize the voice of God and the work of the Holy Spirit in someone’s life.  This is amazing, satisfying, kingdom expanding, God glorifying work. 

If you have ever become discouraged about the spiritual state of the world, let me tell you, the Lord is at work, powerfully, in ways we cannot yet see. 

If you’d like to know more, contact me via Facebook.

 

 

MY 97 YEAR OLD ROLE MODEL

If you’ve been reading my blogs then you know that last June I trained to be a hospice volunteer.  Two things came together to move me in that direction.  The first was the truly blessed experience I had with my own mom in the last 5 weeks of her life, the last few days of which she spent in a hospice home in Florida. By itself, that may not have been enough to move me to volunteer, but the Lord was at work in my heart in a way that moved me to do so.  I’d been convicted some time before about how nearly all of my ministry was centered in my church with my brothers and sisters in Christ.  I knew the Lord was moving me to change that.  So, when I saw a flyer at my church from a local hospital’s Visiting Nurses Association advertising hospice training, I signed up.  The rest, as they say, is history.

Since I began I’ve been blessed to serve many people at the end of their lives.  Some were in their homes, others in nursing homes or other care facilities.  As is usually the case, I volunteered to bring THEM comfort or encouragement or companionship, but in the process I am the one who receives the greatest blessing. 

A few weeks ago, an Alzheimer’s patient I’d been visiting for more than 6 months, died.  Although communication with him was difficult, even at the beginning, at the end it was almost non-existent, yet communicate he did.  Once, he affectionately brushed my face with his hands, another time he blew me kisses when I was leaving.  Often he implied, in perfectly lucid speech, that I surely had better things to do with my time than visit him.  As his condition deteriorated, it was enough just to sit with him and speak to him, even though he rarely responded.  I was sad when I heard the news that he had died.

Currently, I’m visiting with a 97 year old woman.  How I love those visits!  We talk about our families and we chat about her life experiences.  As I was praying for her on my way to my weekly visit, I thought about what we might talk about.  What I wanted to tell her is that when I grow up, I want to be just like her!

One of the things about aging that really bugs me is that the older we get the more our conversation tends to revolve around getting old.  While we may once have talked about world affairs, books we’ve read, places we’ve gone, now we talk about our ailments, our medications, our doctors, our surgeries.  Where we once may have experienced the joy of being alive, now we talk about all the physical trials we have on the way to being dead.  We’ve all been around elderly folk who do nothing but complain about all this – as if it’s somehow a surprise.  I don’t want to be that kind of elderly person.

My 97 year old friend is not like that and that’s why she is my role model for aging well.  For one thing, I have never heard her criticize or complain about her family.  She’s so proud of each one and freely brags about them and their accomplishments.  Her lack of complaining puts me to shame for all the complaining about people that I do! 

She is experiencing all the limitations of age, but instead of being taken by surprise by them, or lamenting over all she’s lost, she accepts them as part of the process.  She makes the best of what she’s still able to do by taking advantage of all that her living situation offers.  I can’t tell you how much complaining I do over the most minor annoyances!

She is never cranky, cantankerous, or edgy.  She is cheerful, gregarious, funny and wise, often giving me advice on what is to come!

Whenever I’ve tried to tell her how much I appreciate the way she has accepted the aging process and how much it encourages me, she brushes me off.  I love that about her too.

My day is coming and I already realize many of the negative qualities in myself that just might make me the kind of elderly person I don’t want to be!  But my friend is teaching me, it doesn’t have to be that way.  I can refuse to complain about my losses, my illnesses, my medications, my dependence on others.  Instead, I can choose to accept the process and in so doing I can be an encouragement to those around me, even when I’m 97, should the Lord choose to give me that many years.

If you’re reading this blog and you and I happen on one another in the years ahead and I begin complaining about aging – feel free to smack me upside the head!

 

DOGS, CATS, AND AUGUST ADVENTURES

I was reading a previous blog this morning entitled, “I’m sorry Mrs. Elwood, but you have cancer”, when it came to me: August has often been the Lord’s chosen month for revealing His glory to me through some amazing faith adventures!  It was in August, 2004, that I was diagnosed with cancer.  It was the end of July into August that I went on my first mission’s trip to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.  And it was in August of last year that I donated a kidney.  Interesting, huh?  That leads me to share a book.

 “Dog and Cat Theology”, by Bob Sjorgren, was featured in a workshop I attended at my yearly Tuscarora Retreat earlier this month.  The author begins by describing dogs and cats like this:

·        A dog says: “You love me, you feed me, you take care of all my needs – YOU must be God”.

 

·        While a cat says: “You love me, you feed me, you take care of all my needs – I must be God”.

The author also cites something I had never heard, but those who have had dogs or cats as pets might confirm:  Dogs have masters.  Cats have staff.  Funny, huh?

As I write this our cat Pippin is sitting at my feet boring holes in me with his eyes.  He’s trying to get this member of his staff to provide “something”, although I haven’t figured out yet what it is.  It’s too early for his dinner, too late to share my lunch, so what else could it be?  I have no idea, but I’m sure it requires MY doing something for HIM. A dog would undoubtedly just gaze up at me with complete adoration.  Back to the book!

The interesting part of the book is when the author ties in his observations about dogs and cats to Christians.  He explains that some Christians are more like dogs.  They recognize all that the Lord has done and they become worshipers - completely enamored with the goodness and greatness of the Lord.  For them, it’s all about HIM.

Other Christians are more like cats.  They also recognize all the Lord has done and they are blown away by those things.  For them, its proof that God’s blessing is all about THEM.  Not a wrong view, says the author, just an incomplete one.  And he says, accurately, I think, that many of us are much like cats, but we long to be dogs.

Thinking about those August revelations of God’s glory reminds me of how much I want to be a DOG!  I want to look at those experiences and recognize God’s greatness!

What did I learn about Him in our August adventures?

·        His strength is made perfect in weakness.  When I am most physically, emotionally or spiritually weak, and yet, I carry on – it’s God’s strength on display! 

·        He is Jehovah Shalom, “Prince of Peace”.  He “owns” peace.  His peace transcends the natural.  His peace is supernaturally activated in those places where our natural default would be FEAR.   Who could DO that but God?

·        He is the God who Sees.  He sees those we often overlook and invites us to BE Jesus to them so they too can see His glory.

·        He is omniscient. He knows where to find the kidney of a 35 year old in a 66 year old person and then He calls that person to share it with someone else.

·        He has a voice and He calls His own by name.  Sometimes He calls them on “not to be missed” adventures. 

·        He allows His children to go through deep valleys so that He can reveal Himself to be the Almighty One, Comforter, Ever Present Help, and Healer.

When I act like a cat, I think He did all those things just to bless ME.  When I’m acting like a dog, I realize, He did all that so He could bless me, but more than that, He did all those things so that I might SEE and WORSHIP HIM and BRING HIM GLORY!

I wonder what new glories of God’s work and character He will reveal THIS summer.  I can’t wait to see, so I can share them with YOU!