Tag: time

Friends

Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com

She said it without tears.

“I’ve just been diagnosed with dementia. It’s been an awful week.”

We are five women friends who have met for over three years in this friendship circle. We have trusted each other with our life stories, have spoken traumas into a our shared space knowing they will not be carried beyond the circle, and we have treasured and affirmed the small graces we have learned to look for in our own and each others’ lives.

“It is early stage dementia,” she said.

I felt her words like a 25-pound weight in my belly. “I’m so sorry,” I said. The silence that encompassed the circle of friends was not awkward but felt like hands holding her with love.

She eventually told us what had led her to seek an opinion, the tests that were part of the diagnosis, and what she wanted to do over the next weeks to be ready — as ready as one can be — for what was to come.

I have not been able to let go of the image of her on C’s back patio last Friday. Clear eyed, her voice strong, but a slight tremor of fear as she talked about paperwork and downsizing possessions. I am praying for her to find strength and hope in each day as she journeys on this path. And I am praying for me to be brave enough to seek testing also — whether it is for a baseline level of functioning or a full-blown diagnosis of that which I most deeply dread.

Dementia runs in both sides of my family tree. I am terrified of losing my cognitive ability and feel dread every time I struggle to find a name or when I get distracted and miss a meeting or date I’ve scheduled with someone. I have come to accept that I can no longer multi task and that everything I do seems to take more time than before. But the thought of not being able to plan, follow a thought, or remember myself or others brings a panicky fear that is hard to dismiss.

I am grateful that my friendship circle can offer care and comfort to each of us. Each of us have busy lives and limited time. But the investment of time and trust and love is worth it. I am reminded of that each time I risk to share my vulnerability in this group. At times like my friend’s diagnosis it is friends who know you most deeply who are likely not to run away but to offer their presence, a pot of soup, or sit with you while you cry.

I am fortunate to have three friendship circles formed over various years of my life. I’ve known one circle for forty years and each of us have lived and changed and grown through what seem like many different lifetimes. A second circle meets virtually now because we are scattered throughout the States — but our bond is treasured and our monthly check-ins are prioritized on our calendars.

As a young woman I did not prize friendships and when I would move from one place to another friendships often fizzled due to distance. I cherish friendships now and have renewed several from long ago through the “magic” of the internet and Zoom and Facetime. Knowing someone deeply, trusting each other, remembering things said, laughing together, remembering shared experiences and seeing them with different eyes are too precious in this world to forego.

We need each other — especially in this divisive time when some around us choose to magnify and demonize differences. I believe it is our nature as human beings to long for connection. Friendships have taught me to value connections and to set aside expectations of agreement in favor of being patient and curious about another’s life experience. And when I need help to ask for it and to offer it when a friend is in need.

What will our friend need as the future unfolds for us all? We cannot be certain. But we will journey with her and she with us. God willing and inshallah.

Where will I be in 2021??

I just left the orthopod’s office after my one year hip replacement anniversary check up. I’ll only need to check in once every two years from here on. My hip surgery has been a total success and it was a good decision to undertake it.

I stopped at the check out desk and commented to the clerk that I didn’t need to come back for two years. Would someone from the office get in touch with me to make an appointment closer to that time or would I need to make a note to myself?

“Oh, we’re making appointments for two years out,” she said and opened the calendar software to 2021.

So, I will be seeing the doctor on November 29, 2021 (a Monday in case you wanted to know). It is now in my Google calendar on my iPhone — the first appointment date in 2021!

As I left the doctor’s office, I wondered . . . 2021. Will I be healthy? Will I be living in the house we’re presently in? What will be going on in my life then? What will I have done with these two years?

Two years used to be a long time. Even now, thinking about 2021 seems so far in the future! And yet as any of us grows older, our perception of time changes — speeding up and making it seem like days fly by before we’ve noticed.

Before we’ve noticed . . . that is the biggest wondering I have about 2021. Will I arrive at November 29, 2021 and wonder where the time went? Will the days between now and then hold any meaningful events, quilting projects (;^), interactions with others, counseling or spiritual direction sessions, losses, challenges . . . ? I cannot expect of myself that every day will be an experience of deep mindfulness — I know I won’t be able to bring deep intentional attention to every moment. But what I do want is to become better at reaching out to make connections with those around me . . . family of course, current friends, but also others whom I don’t know yet (or don’t know well).

I have spent my life as an introvert and my introversion won’t suddenly change to extroversion. All the flavors of my active vocational life (counseling, priesthood, spiritual direction, teaching) involved intense, often profound interactions with many people, and I often ended a work day exhausted and longing for some time alone to allow my soul to catch up with the rest of me.

But in retirement, I have lots of time alone. I have awakened in this stage of life to a longing for connection with others. . . a connection that goes beyond casual conversation and into a deeper knowing. Martin Buber, Jewish theologian and philosopher, called the first kind of relationship an “I/it” relationship in which neither person really knows the other. The latter relationship he called an “I/thou” relationship. In the latter kind of relationship, one seeks both to know and be known by the other. There is vulnerability, authenticity, discovery of truths about oneself and the other. Not all relationships or interactions can be I/thou, and there is nothing wrong with having some I/it relationships. But I know I seek more of the I/thou in my life.

So November 2021? Will I be nurturing deep friendships? Will I be seeking to live mindfully as I walk this earth? Will I be striving to leave this earth and its people a better place in some small way (undoubtedly an infinitesimal drop in the bucket — but hopefully in some way) for my having lived?

Miracles

It is November 15 and the snow is falling rapidly.  We’ve already exceeded the initial accumulation projections of 1-3″.  The forecasters are continually upgrading one inch at a time.  We are now likely to receive up to 8″

Finches feeder

Luckily, I’m enjoying the first snowfall of my retirement — I can stay home and watch the birds hassle each other over the seed in the feeders, and put on my traditional pot of chili that I always make on the first day of snow.

What a miracle it is to be able to watch the delicate flakes accumulate in soft piles.  What a blessing to watch the different species of birds with various colors accenting their feathers and differing patterns of spots/stripes/stippling on their bellies.  The goldfinches are my favorites.  They are emptying the niger and thistle feeder as I write.  All 6 perches are occupied and pity the poor bird who takes a moment to turn her head away from the seed port to survey the hungry birds waiting their turn.  She is likely to be divebombed by an anxious juvenile who has decided not to wait politely for her to finish, but to scare her off her perch and claim it for her own.

What a miracle to see clearly with eyes enhanced by glasses.  To see without the cloud of macular degeneration or the blindness of glaucoma.  It is a miracle to see the varieties of birds and to identify and name them one by one:  house finches, juncos, tufted titmice, black capped chicadee (gymnasts of the feeder crowd), cardinals, tanagers, and more.

Gratitude fills me as I sit here watching.  May I remember the miracle of this time of life, of clear sight, of a snowy day with no where to be except watching the buffet and its takers outside.