Category: Reflections

Companions on the Path

Labyrinths are everywhere. Checkout the Labyrinth Locator at https://labyrinthlocator.com/locate-a-labyrinth. Within fifty miles of the Lehigh Valley there are listed at least 79 labyrinths.. Not all are open to the public and many are canvas and indoors. But 79!

I used to walk the labyrinth at my Christ Church parish in Reading at least weekly. We opened our canvas 11 circuit labyrinth weekly on Friday afternoon for anyone to walk. Children, adults, people who were curious about this strange design we offered, people who came with questions, people who came with burdens they would let go of on the path. Once there came a couple who were obviously in distress. The woman came in first and asked how to walk the labyrinth ‘correctly’. Then her partner entered the room with its floor entirely covered by the Chartres labyrinth and saw her walking the first yards of the path. He declined my invitation to enter the path and stood, watching his partner — each step seeming as though she was bearing a 50 pound backpack. When she reached the middle she started to cry, She still hadn’t noticed that her partner had entered the room and was watching. As she cried his face became an echo of hers — tears filling his eyes. Suddenly he went into the labyrinth and walked toward her, ignoring the circuits — just walking straight to the center. When he got to her, she looked up and saw him and both embraced. He and she both cried and as they held each other one could see both of their lips form the words “I’m sorry”. They eventuallywalked out hand in hand.

I have moved back to the Reading area to a retirement community. It’s been a week and a half since our move and we are slowly finding places for our ‘stuff’ in our new apartment. One of the things my husband would not part with was a wooden finger labyrinth that you ‘walk’ with your finger, eyes closed, in a reflection of the walking the labyrinth experience. We apparently both miss walking labyrinths.

I remember that on the PSU-Berks campus there was an outside labyrinth — not far from where we live now. I need to find out if it is still there. And then I will go and walk it. Labyrinth magic. I am ready.

On the path,

Jane

Today’s News

I haven’t watched the news for 2 weeks now. I still read a few articles but I’m selective in what I choose to read. I am feeling less stressed and anxious and — although I don’t know for sure that it is because of not watching the news — I want to continue this practice. At least for awhile.

I have always been a news junky. I would check news web sites several times during the day. My husband and I would eagerly look forward to sitting down in front of the TV and watch the evening news. Only then would we turn in.

But for the past 5 years it has been more stressful than educating. I would feel panicky after watching the broadcast — so much attention was placed on what the former president said or did and it seemed very little positives were highlighted for the current president. The news — even from our favorite stations — seemed to fall into an “”entertainment” rung rather than search out facts or present what was important to us. What we were interested in hearing more about was climate and education issues and voting issues. Little time was spent on those issues in the news broadcasts we watched. 

So I decided to forego watching the news. 

It was difficult at first and I initially thought of giving up the avoidance. But after 4 or 5 nights it became easy. I will be continuing it.My only hesitation is that I wonder if I will miss a breaking story that becomes important. Maybe — but I doubt it. Since I still am reading some news and most of my friends and family are connected to news I suspect I will know if something “big” happens.

So I will stay disconnected from network news at least for the near future. And it feels right for now.

On the path, Jane+

Color!

If you know me or glance at my Facebook posts you know my love of color. I cannot imagine a world without color. Bright colors, vivid colors, striking colors, shocking colors. I am drawn to them in all forms: textiles, clothes, fall leaves, visual arts. I am not drawn to pale colors, pastels, or colors that don’t sing and jump out in front of you wanting to be noticed. I’m hoping that doesn’t change this Thursday.

I have cataracts and will be getting my first IOL (intra ocular lens) on Thursday. I am curious how I will see differently — if at all — after surgery. If all goes well I will have the lens in my other eye replaced in late November. Will colors be different with IOLs? I’m told that whites will be much whiter — thank goodness for that. My living room walls seem more pasty and yellow lately — and someone has changed the wattage in my reading lamps so that I can’t read so easily by lamplight.

Could my attraction to intense color has been influenced in part by these cloudy cataracts that all of us eventually develop? I’m curious. When I was in my early 20’s and 30’s I wore mostly earth tones and “natural” beige-y tops. My walls were painted a serene yet warm beige that I loved. That could have been because of my “earth mother” philosophy at the time or maybe a holdover from my hippie days. I don’t remember really loving and even craving intense purples and golds and so many varieties of green and blue and red until my 50’s. And it was my playing with color that led me to watercolor painting and then jewelry making with beads. And recently I’ve delighted in piecing and quilting with color rich fabrics.

So I wonder — could the increasing filtering of light and color by these cloudy lenses of mine have led to the explosion of color in my life these days? Will I wake up on Friday and be shocked by colors I’ve chosen and used in quilted creations? I doubt it. I hope my heart will dance at the glorious profusion of color in the fall leaves, the quilted table runners and the art on our walls. An explosion of delight!

Color can be a bright and colorful oasis in the midst of a terribly hurting world. Blessed be each of you in this time of chaos, danger, and transition. Take a moment to pray (whatever may be your spiritual path) for healing, justice, peace. Offer blessings for hope in times that drain that precious wisp of sanity. Imagine/visualize justice in place of lies and corruption — and peace in place of cruelty and war. Take just 60 seconds. . . right now . . . please.

Jane+

What Are My Treasures?

Note from Mom

When my mother died, my father gave me her Hope Chest.  Hope Chests used to be a tradition in families.  Each girl in the family earned money to buy or was gifted a wooden Hope Chest.  The chests had a lock and key and were used for storing what would be needed when she got married and set up her own home

My mother’s Hope Chest is mahogany veneer set in a checker board design from the 1930’s Deco period.  I’ve loved it – even in its unfinished state (my husband tried to repair some scratched veneer and had to give up when it didn’t meet his perfectionist standards.).  When my Mom was a teenager, she put her “treasures” in this chest – treasures that she made lovingly to use when she and her beloved were married:  embroidered linen dishtowels with fanciful animal designs and hearts, embroidered double sheet sets and pillowcases with her monogram, a simple cotton tablecloth and two blankets bought by her parents for her Hope Chest.  And eventually at her bridal shower she received things that could go straight into the chest for her wedding that summer of 1947.  None of these things were still in the Hope Chest when I received it.  They had been made to be used and were used during Mom’s and Dad’s 60+ years of marriage.

I had a fleeting thought this morning, though: what treasures I would save in this old Chest?  Not for setting up housekeeping.  Rather for keepsakes I might want to pass on.  I renamed the Hope Chest my Treasures Chest.  It is small in size so it wouldn’t hold much. What would I deem my few precious keepsakes?  What holds precious memories for me?  

One thing I would put in my Treasures Chest would be the box of genealogy documents that I found among my Dad’s things. Dad was keen on such records and they have fascinated me with our documented ties to Jane Fonda’s family, and the royal Stuart line, and family connections in the US starting in Massachusetts’ Bay Colony and today extending west to Washington state and north to Canada.  So that is a keeper.  

Dad gave me a necklace awhile ago that he purchased as a boy for his mother on Mother’s Day.  It took sacrifice and saving up for him to buy it and it is precious to me.  It isn’t valuable monetarily, but it means the world to me and when I wear it I feel loved.  I have always treasured jewelry that was worn by those I love.  I believe that some energy or matter is exchanged between things worn and the life spirit of the wearer so that when I put a ring or necklace on that belonged to a loved one I feel closer to the person it belonged to.  I also have my great grandmother’s wedding ring and my mother’s engagement ring – those will be in my Treasure Chest.  

There’s a family quilt with flying geese design made of chambray, denim and shirting scraps that signal its origin in the early 20th century or perhaps earlier.  That will definitely go in my Treasures Chest. Many a relative (and myself) found warmth and comfort under that quilt . . . another treasure.  

Perhaps copies of this blog would be among the treasures.  I would like my thoughts and musings to be read – perhaps savored – by some curious family member in the future.  Maybe it would be an inspiration to someone else to write their thoughts and share them.

What I am realizing as I think about what my treasures are, there are some that won’t go in the box.  They are ephemeral things like the sound of my mother’s voice or the color of the sky – the bluest blue – on Sept. 11.  The comfort and love I felt holding my newborn baby daughter. 

Treasures I can remember but not save for others.  And perhaps it is better that way.  I will have my memories with me as long as my memory holds.  And as I remember these lovely life-giving moments I am filled with warmth and connection to those who people my memories.  And that is what I treasure.

Finding Joy

What brings you Joy?   During this long Pandemic Time have you noticed any change in what Joy means to you or how you experience it?

I am not referring to Happiness.  Joy, I think, is different from happiness . . . Joy arises from a much deeper, more enduring place in us than happiness. Joy feels more substantial, restores hope, brings encouragement.  With Joy, life goes from gray to vibrant color.  Happiness seems less substantial, more flashy and fleeting — like a quick glimpse of a hummingbird as it flits away from one flower emptied of nectar in search of another.

Contentment is closer to Joy.  Contentment seems longer lasting and more mellow than Happiness — like savoring a bite of Godiva dark chocolate.  Bitter on the tongue yet sweet, noticing the way the flavor morphs as it moves across your tastebuds from front to back, the smooth texture melting into chocolaty richness.  That to me is contentment – full sensory awareness and relishing of the whole experience.

Joy?  For me, Joy often comes with connection.  The connection can be time spent with friends or family or connection through remembering times together. Or perhaps connection is an “aha” moment when events or thoughts seem to click together like puzzle pieces in a coherent pattern that I hadn’t seen before. I find deep Joy in seeing a child with its mother and remember times with my daughter at that age.  I feel Joy when I am piecing a quilt project and am surrounded by the bright color and prints that will eventually make patterns to be enjoyed by another. In piecing I pair colors with each other in unique ways that spark Joy in me.

When I drive home from my sister’s house after we have spent an afternoon together doing a puzzle or just talking and feeling close, I often feel both Joy and a bittersweet longing for more time.  What I’ve just experienced in my visit with Karen connects me with warm memories of other times together.  Joy brings recognition of the gift of being alive together and gratitude for having a sister who knows me and loves me still. 

I am filled with warmth when Joy comes.   Often without being aware of it I’m smiling. Usually I am energized – not quite turning handsprings at this age but close to it. Sometimes Joy fills me with a peace that calms and softens the rough edges of a chaotic day.

Joy lights up what was grey and unremarkable . . . and often highlights what is just emerging.  Remarkably to me, Joy can co-exist with tears and grief, lending a lightness that doesn’t mask the sadness but allows gratitude and memory to rise. Joy seems ephemeral as it floats in and out of our lives but it is also durable — remaining a warm memory for weeks or longer.  It can sometimes be beckoned to appear, but may just as likely choose to ignore our call to it.  It usually appears suddenly and unexpectedly. And that makes me treasure even more the times Joy surprises.

I could say I am greedy for Joy. But I know that I cannot cage it or staple it to my sleeve in order to keep it. Joy is precious to me because I know that it can’t be held or caged or tied down.  Joy surprises me when it comes and is missed when it is gone.  Surprise seems to be part of Joy.

The Pandemic, as difficult as it has been to live with, has not been joyless. 

  • Joy surprised me with the connections Zoom and Facetime brought to add a touch of companionship to my isolation.
  • Joy surprised me with my love of color and sewing. I hadn’t seen sewing as play until the Pandemic.  I made all my Christmas gifts two years in a row!  I haven’t done that since I graduated with my PhD in 1994!
  • Joy surprised me with a renewed love of chopping vegetables and making soup and simple meals.  Before the Pandemic I was still working (too much) and felt cooking intruded on other things I wanted or needed to do.  Now, evening is a time when I switch from whatever else I’ve been doing to a slower pace when I can enjoy the colors and textures of what I am chopping and cooking.
  • Joy surprised me with the elation at seeing and being with my sibs and friends in person.  I didn’t think I particularly needed people – but now I can’t perpetuate that lie.  I long every day to see someone and try to plan regular times to meet – on Zoom if COVID is particularly nasty but preferably in person.

These are not the only times Joy has visited me, but enough for now.  When has Joy come to you?

With love (and joy),

Jane

Letting Go of Things

I was a freshman at a small liberal arts college when I learned that it was possible to live without attachment to things.  That’s a Buddhist concept but the person who demonstrated that to me was anything but Buddhist.  His daughter was a student at the college – a year ahead of me – and she had invited me to join her and her father (a college professor) for dinner at their house.

I was overwhelmed at the invitation to a professor’s home.  To me, college professors were a different sort than ‘normal’ people . . . all of them brilliant, thinking lofty thoughts, using vocabulary words that were at least 6 syllables long, living exciting lives of research and travel.  What would I say to such a person . . . me, a mere freshman from Coatesville PA, a little podunk town in eastern Pennsylvania at the far western end of a railroad line stretching east to Philadelphia?

My wonderment at my friend’s father’s status extended to my amazement at the collections of objects around their house.  Each object I noticed had a story attached which the professor was eager to spin.  One vase in particular held my attention.  Was it the color – a translucent glaze of turquoise brushed with purple?  Was it the shape – a 10” vase with one flattened side and the neck twisted slightly to the opposite non-flat side giving the impression of an inquisitive person’s pose?  Was it the story that came with it – a tale of being gifted, then stolen, then found and returned?  It was obvious to my friend and her father that I was mesmerized by this object.

“It’s yours.  Take it home with you.  I would love you to have it,” her father said. 

I demurred.  His generosity embarrassed me and I felt I had looked too longingly at the object.  I had to refuse several times through the evening.  He told me that he loved the things that he had, but that he had always enjoyed giving them away to those who loved and admired them.  I thanked him and went away wondering how strange it was in my experience that someone would want to give away something that they loved and had acquired and lived with.

Some 50 years later, I am in my own house and surrounded by “things” I have loved and enjoyed.  I have collected 150 diverse figures of sheep made of pottery, wool, glass, tin, paper, wood.  I loved the search for different sheep.  It made me easy to please at Christmas or birthday times … give me a sheep! 

I have more clothes than I need and thanks to the pandemic’s impact on eating out and going to events there are many I know I will never wear again.

I have books I have already begun to give away – thank goodness for book sales!

The list goes on with the detritus of 70+ years of life.  I want to live more lightly.  And that entails giving things away.  I am surprised at how unattached I am to most all of what surrounds me in our home.  I have worked over the years at adopting the attitude of that long ago professor: to love what I have but to be ready to share it or give it up so someone else can use it and perhaps love it as I have.  And for most of what surrounds me, I can do that.  Someone need a coat?  I have 4 winter coats of various styles – choose one and wear it in health.  Looking for a way to pray that doesn’t use words?  What a minute.  I have two books about lectio/visio divina and contemplative prayer that you can have.  Need some holiday dishes that could serve 14 people?  I can help you.  I have a service for 15 (one setting broke) that is festive for the holidays and that I haven’t used because I haven’t invited anyone in during the pandemic.  No need to return it.

I want to give my things to others who will use them.  And therein lies the glitch.  Most of the people I know are at my stage of life and we are all looking to lighten our belongings, not take more on.  Therefore, the only two ways I know to clear shelves or cabinets or bookshelves are to post on Facebook Marketplace and recycle sites, or to take loads of things to Goodwill (which is currently closed to donations in our area) or some other thrift shop.  And that means more than the exhaustion of making choices to keep, discard, or donate.  So many thrift shops and donation sites are closed – perhaps buried under mounds of donated clothes and household goods – that it is hard to scout out places to donate things to.   Packing things in boxes or bags, lugging them to the car, carting them to the place that is open to donations (usually requiring stopping at several sites to find a place that takes what I have) – it exhausts me to even begin.

So I am unattached to what I have and want to give it for free to someone who can use it . . . and perhaps that latter comment is part of the problem.  I shudder at thinking of a dumpster filled with things I have loved and cherished.  And that means that there is so much work involved with finding where to give these things . . . that I still am surrounded by them all.

So perhaps my spiritual discipline is to let go of these things and also to let go of my desire that they continue their life with someone else.  Ouch.  But that seems to be what I am being called to do.  To let go of them.  To let go of my hope for and intention in giving them away.   

Breathe.  Let go.  A spiritual practice that this stage of life requires.  I will try.

With love,

Jane

HOPE FOR 2022

Optimism is the belief that things are going to get better. Hope is the belief that we can make things better. Optimism is a passive virtue, hope is an active one. It takes no courage only words to be an optimist, but it takes courage and action to hope.        –Rabbi Jonathan Sachs

This is the last week of 2021 and I’ve been reflecting about what I want to keep and carry into 2022.  This isn’t a list of resolutions, but rather reflections on what I’ve been missing or have found valuable as I’ve lived through the last 365 days.  So here are some of my thoughts of what I hope to keep doing or being in the coming year. 

HUGS

I realized how much I loved hugging people hello and goodbye when Covid made it impossible.  It took awareness and energy to not reach out to hug.  Now, when I see someone I know, I step back instead of forward and make do with a  ‘Hi’ or a hands in prayer position bow.  I miss the connection of hugs with friends and family.  

In 2022 I hope to get to feeling safe enough to hug spontaneously.

NOTES

I had pledged at the beginning of 2021 to write short notes of thank you every couple of days to persons — those I know well, those who are acquaintances, those I’ve lost touch with from my past. I bought small notecards so as to keep what I write brief and had stamps and address labels. I wanted to give to others the joy I feel when I receive notes in the mail. I have saved a whole file drawer of note cards or letters written over the past 45 years of my career by former clients, family, friends, and people I’ve touched somehow expressing gratitude for something I’ve done. I call it my Rainy Day file and it has been a lifesaver at times when I’ve struggled with depression or life changes. I failed miserably in this small practice and sent only a couple dozen notes.

In 2022 I hope to write at least one note per week (realistic number) of gratitude and hope to someone I haven’t written to lately.  

MEANINGFUL QUOTATIONS

Email programs used to allow you to enter several different signature templates (name/address/quote) to appear at the end of your email and then would randomly select one of them each time you sent an email.  I loved that feature because it meant I could enter 10 or more unique quotations and a different one would appear at the end of my email each time.  It was eerie how frequently the quotation that randomly showed up would “match” the content or tone of my email.  Recipients would comment on that as well.  Sadly, that feature hasn’t been part of email programs (at least any that I have used) since the 2000’s. Now, I rarely change the quote on my email — perhaps once a year.

In 2022 I hope to change my quote once a month on my email and perhaps include a copy of a quote in each note card I write and mail.

ELFIN QUOTATION MAGIC

I am a quote collector and love adding to my list of quotes every time I discover another meaningful one (newly discovered Jonathan Sachs quotation at top of blogpost). Usually they just sit in my computer file (Writing > Xmas letters > quotes). I have sometimes sent 3 or 4 quotes printed on business card stock with each Christmas card or letter. But mostly they just stayed in the file without me even reading them. But I want to change that and give them away in the manner I saw “Elfin Magic” giving away Christmas joy with sparkling Christmas balls randomly in trees along the walking path in a park.

In 2022 I hope to collect quotes about hope and connection and action. I will print a variety of them on business cards, tie with ribbon in bunches of 5 and put them in public places like waiting rooms or library books as free “Elfin Magic” gifts.  

BECOMING AN ELF

If you haven’t read my blogpost Elfin Magic please check it out.  I was feeling less than positive as the calendar turned to December the year.  But the Elfin Magic I chanced upon transformed my sour mood into smiles and even a guffaw.  It was just a little thing — Christmas balls tied to trees along a walking path, but it felt like they were placed there to just for me to make me smile.  I thought of them nearly every day and smiled.  They brought joy and a sense of mystery and magic to my days.  I want to find ways to spread a little Elfin Magic at least a couple of times this year.  My Elfin Quotation Magic will be one way.  But I need help with this so I’m asking you to please — please — think of inexpensive ways that I might spread a smile to others and let them know that although we may not know each other, I know you are out there and I know you care, too.  Put any ideas you have  in the Comments section so I don’t have to go just on my own ideas.  And join me in doing these small things.  We can make a whole Elfin brigade — think of what smiles and hope and connection can do!!

In 2022 I hope to spread some Elfin Magic with at least 3 or 4 small things done anonymously for others to bring a bit of light and hope and connection in a stressful world.

 With love and hope,

Jane


	


	
	






	
	

		
	

		
Lush and Richly Delicious . . . Yet Sad
	


	

		

Fall’s Golden Colors





What makes the season of fall so lush and richly delicious — yet also so sad and melancholy?





I am struggling with sadness this fall.  I am loving the way the sunlight has shifted to a golden glaze on everything it touches.  No more of summer’s glare.  What is dying in my garden seems crowned with golden light that makes it glow despite curling edges and browning stalks.





I love the quality of the light and the rich colors of orange, yellow and red, and the way a single leaf can contain multiple colors of red, green, orange, purple.   Yet as much as I want to enjoy this fall, I cannot seem to shake the sadness — and the depth of the sadness surprises me. 





I am a person who is hopeful and rarely spends long periods of life in the doldrums.  I don’t cry easily (at times I wish I did).  Yet today in my therapist’s office I sat with tears trickling down my cheeks as I tried to explore this deep sadness that seems to have taken over me.  When I came home and my husband said cheerily, “Well how was therapy?” I started to cry again and couldn’t find words to explain as he held me.  I haven’t looked depressed or sad over these past weeks, but I have felt it . . . a blue-gray cloud that obscured even the lovely golden light I love so much.





Strangely, I am missing my Mom terribly even though she died 8 years ago.  And I am missing my Dad who is still alive at 96 but who is not doing well.  One thing I am missing is the confidence of their years of living that allowed them (especially my Dad) to reassure me when I came to him (even in adulthood) with dilemmas or hurts that I couldn’t resolve.  He would listen compassionately and before we parted he would say, ” You will get through this.  I know it is hard but it will be ok and you will figure it out.”  I trusted that he was right because of his life experiences — and because he was my Dad.  





Now I am the one who needs to offer such reassurances.  Yet, I am struggling to believe in myself.  I am carrying a lot of other people’s pain and struggles on my shoulders.  I need to be my husband’s memory for appointments/ meds/bills.  I need to be alert to and problem-solve my Dad’s care needs and medical issues.  Lots more.  It seems petty but I feel the responsibility (common to us first borns) to check on family and friends to be sure they are ok.  Even if it is only on email or text, I try to write and reply to emails and FB posts as a way of checking in to see if others are ok.  And what I crave and wish for is someone to check in on me.   





I have been told that I don’t seem to need others.  If true, I hate the aura that I must give off.  I am not hiding my state, but I admit that It is often hard for me to talk about myself — in writing it is less difficult.  I find listening — even listening deeply — to be easier than sharing what seems to me often less than the struggles or joys of others.  





So I guess that shows why I am writing this.   To be transparent.  This fall I am sad.  Very sad.  I am missing the caring of my Mom and Dad, missing family and friends who used to check in with me, missing the planning for Thanksgiving and Christmas fun times together that no longer happen.  I need to learn to trust that among family and friends I can open my heart and share not only the “good stuff” but also my sadness.  I know it is true that family and friends would be there for me . . . I just need to take the risk and trust.  And I need to trust that once again, as before, I will get through this.  I will.






	


	
	






	
	

		
Holding the Truth Lightly?
	


	

		






There was a time in my life when I would argue my side of a question or fact until anyone with another point of view gave up and walked away.  There weren’t many things I would hold fast to, but with those few ideas or issues, I was sure my view was the correct one . . . the ONLY correct one.





Oh, the certainty of that time of life.  It embarrasses me now. . . thinking that I could know what was true and what was not, what was right and what was wrong,  what was of highest value and what was junk.





I still have opinions and values and ethical standards now.  But I think I am more reflective these days, less willing to attack with righteous vengeance the ideas and positions others hold.  Now, don’t get the wrong idea about me.  I am an unapologetic progressive who isn’t afraid to say what I believe.  And I loathe the stance of the current Senate minority leader when he trumpets that his only goal for the next 4 years is to “100% oppose” the current administration in every bill proposed or budget proffered.  That stand will take us down as a country if it holds.  





But I am more opposed to that “100% opposition no matter what the policy is” stance because of the blindness to how we can strongly disagree with a person’s ideological stand and yet listen to their hopes, their goals, their ideas, and look for places we can agree so we can craft something together worth agreeing upon.   In this divisive moment (I still hope it is only a moment), however, that may need   a whole lot of  retirements before working together across the aisle is ever possible again.





I choose to try to live a different ethos these days.  I try to “hold the truth lightly”.  I first heard this phrase when I joined the Episcopal Church.  I was drawn to this denomination because it doesn’t require dogmatic beliefs but focuses on practices — being community, serving others, living and practicing love.  The assumption is that we are all interconnected and are spiritual beings walking a human path.  None of us has a better hold on truth than anyone else so we can learn from (not fear) others.  And we “hold the truth lightly” knowing that life changes us and therefore our view of “truth” may change.  





To live this way requires humility (which I have to work at), curiosity (approaching situations and people with wonder rather than mistrust), and a belief that we can find multiple interconnections that are lifegiving.





I’m not expert at living this way, yet it has become more natural as I’ve practiced it.  And wondering about the world and those who live in it is much more joy filled than believing all is threatening.





Yes, you are probably correct . . . I’m likely a Pollyanna.  Join me?






	


	
	






	
	

		
When Life Goes Wrong . . . or Right?
	


	

		






I’m awed by the bounty, how life goes wrong/a thousand ways.         (Robert Lowes)





I wonder — when Lowes remarks that he is awed by how many ways “life goes wrong” . . . what does he mean by “wrong”?   





I have often been stunned by life’s sudden departure from what I expected.  Recently I got a call from the retirement center where my Dad lives independently.  He had been rushed to the hospital in extreme pain of unknown origin.  At 95 years old, Dad needs an advocate when he requires medical care and one of his children tries to go with him to doctor’s appointments etc.  I was more available that day than my sibs so I drove the 1 3/4 hours to get to him.  “Available” means that, fortunately, in retirement I can rearrange most things and be present when needed.  





Dad will need to be in rehab and there are questions about what level of care he can return to in the future.  So life has “gone wrong” in its departure from what all of us expected for that day when the retirement center called . . . and for the days that will follow.  





I suspect many of us are experiencing lives that are not what we expected prior to March 2020.  COVID and the shutdown, then the premature openings that caused infections to rise and overwhelm our ICU’s and hospitals. . . Who could have predicted such disruption?  And, although many seem unable or unwilling to accept facts, we won’t be returning to the previous “normal” any more than my Dad (and my sibs and I) will be returning to his “normal” independent living status.  





When such “life gone wrong” events happen, we can chafe at change.  Rearranging one’s life to meet new challenges or to accept new behaviors or to take steps into the unknown, unplanned-for future is a great and exhausting challenge to most of us.  And yet . . . it also has a flip side of opening us to possibilities and opportunities and awarenesses we couldn’t have imagined in our lives before it went off the rails.  





Yes, grief and letting go are a necessary part of the process of “life gone wrong” for we have likely become attached to what we had or thought our future would be.  But if we can name and accept our anxiety at no longer being certain of our path, we can begin to see that a path (or many paths) stretches out ahead of us even if we cannot see an end point.  And we can work on shaping the path as best we can and choosing what to pursue and what to let go of with grace.  





We can see “life gone wrong” as a gift we wouldn’t have chosen but that opens up new interests, possibilities, and/or challenges.  Even if “life gone wrong” has imposed limitations to what we can accomplish — or limits on the time we have left — knowing those limits can make today immensely precious.  Whoever penned Psalm 90 (“teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom“) most certainly had experienced “life gone wrong” and learned the agonizing yet priceless truth that the present moment is precious when lived with gratitude and awareness that there is no promise of a tomorrow.





I would never have chosen to live through this era of COVID, or seeing our politics take fascist turns, or being isolated from family, or seeing (and experiencing) individual and family struggles that ache and wound and kill.  But I would never have known how much my country, my spirituality, my values, and my relationships mean to me without it — because “life gone wrong” has shown me the ugly possibility that we can lose those things we expected would be there forever.