Living on ...

Surely all of us want to be remembered, that's the way we continue to live after death, at least in the earthly sense. If one believes in eternity, then life continues anyway, just in a different form (believe me I don't mind leaving behind pain for that!). But the topic is memory. Perhaps my granddaughter Shannon calling the other night reminded me of that. She asked me the names of my grandparents and parents. Well the latter was easy, but I had to look up the names of the three grandparents who died before I was born. So maybe that's how long one lives on in this earthly setting, as long as your grandchildren can remember you.

However, the most I remember about the grandmother I sort of knew ... Frances Smith of London, KY ... is that she chewed tobacco and was as delightful as a child when she came to visit us in Illinois because of the traffic in front of our house near Bismarck. Sh lived in a log cagin with two rooms, heated by a fireplace with an outhouse in back. I remember the snug warmth of feather comforters near that fire in the bedroom that held several beds. She had raised 8 kids there. My mother learned to cook there, starting at about age 4 in the lean-to back porch. The cemetery where Frances Bruner Smith was buried next to her husband Roland, was next door to the cabin I loved to visit. I thought Kentucky was a big adventure, handsome strapping woodsy men, lots of coonhounds and holy roller preachers railing fire and brimstone. I think one of the preachers was an ancestor, but most were more like the first described, especially my uncles.

So what will my grandchildren and hoped for great-grandchildren remember about me? Those memories are still happening! But there are some cool early ones. Will Aaron remember falling from the third bunk at Synod School? I had put a mattress on the floor where he would fall so he wouldn't break his determined 7-year-old neck on our first trip together! Will Kelsey and Morgan remember our being stuck on an interstate after a blizzard in north Arizona? The road crews just let the snow melt ... it always seems to by afternoon! Will Shannon and Jessi remember the adventures right here at the farm? Carried those lunches and small bags to gather outdoor treasures. 

Have I ever said anything wise to them? Or memorable? Hmmmm... that's something to think about while we still have memories happening. Whatever they remember, the important thing is that we have been together. They know their grandmother. That's a great way to be remembered. 

What do 50 years bring?

Marvin and I will celebrate 50 years of marriage on Sunday, Dec. 7. Actually we started celebrating over Thanksgiving when Marvin reached the magic age of 70 and will be continuing to be joyful until after Christmas when all the family vacations in Florida. Four nights and five days of family will be a fitting tribute to our time together. If married folk produce 10 family members they are proud to claim as children and grandchildren, then what else has meaning in life? Really!

We have accomplished other goals: good jobs, our own companies, a few good friends, and many meaningful activities. But children always make the difference, at least for me. We've both affected the lives of many children besides our own. But a long marriage isn't about doing stuff, it's about being silent together as well as talking through a shared meal. It's about trust even in despair. It's about enjoying one another, and of course, there's love. We have loved each other through pain, sorrow and anger. We don't give up on marriage, even when divorce sounded so much easier. Perhaps tenacity had something to do with it. Perhaps it was the memory of our parents saying that we must be patient and work at marriage. I don't know, really. We have found what makes being together work, but would never presume to tell others how to do it. Not all marriages are made in heaven, but surely more of them should be working than the statistics show! 

Saturday night we will dine out at our favorite expensive restaurant and toast one another. I am toasting a healthy, happy, frustrating, and long-loving marriage. I pray that it will continue to become all these things and more! Well, maybe not the frustrating part!

 

A sister's love

Imogene was 15 when I was born so she was more than my big sister. There was a little mothering, lots of protection and plenty of generosity. She shared her children with me so I always had a great sense of family, instead of being the youngest of the six Murphy children and raised as an only child. she introduced me to the facts of life, cautioned me about boys and cheered me on in high school plays and musicals (along with my parents, of course!). 

When I had children, Imy was there to hold my hand. Mother couldn't bare to watch so she deferred that duty to my other mother, who was my sister. Imy had her 5th child a few months after I had my first so David and Frank grew up together (yes, disagreeing frequently and a relationship long damaged beyond repair). My son Art, at age 2, kicked her in the shins for not feeding him quickly enough. Sheila was simply adored by her Aunt Imy. We were together often, traveling to Chicago and St. Louis before we moved away from Rossville near Imy to the Quad-Cities. She came to see me until she moved with her three youngest to Scottsdale. Marvin and I took our kids to visit the desert several times, and once we continued on with Imy and Curt and David to Mexico. Sheila loved being in my niece Joni's wedding, as Joni had been in mine. 

My aging parents moved to live near us, and traveled to Arizona to be with Imy during our cold winters. After they died in 1976, my sister decided I needed a vacation, so she took me to Venezuela to visit friends, then to Mexico City and Acapulco for some beach time. I returned the favor by driving her to Kentucky to visit our ancestors' homes several years later.

My sister was a strong woman in her youth who was devastated by Parkinson's Disease and many ailments of aging. Joni saved her life many times during the more than 20 years she cared for her. As Imy became more frail, I enjoyed their hospitality. While our families are torn apart by anguish, strife and betrayal, I remember Imy and Joni with love.

More than a sister, sometimes a mother and always a friend, Imy taught me about courage and tenacity as she faced the afflictions of life and her physical suffering. Imy's smile would light up a room and her generosity was exemplary. I loved her in this life and will always miss her. Gone two years now, she is with my parents and I will see her again one day. What more could any of us want?

Walker is still alive

We saw Walker again this weekend. He's been with us since someone shot at him out of season and nicked a wing. Walker is a Canadian goose, an elegant bird whose flight is sure and true. The sounds they make as they come in for a landing on our pond is as clear a call of the wild as an eagle's in the West. Some think the geese are a nuisance, but we love them as well as the many types of ducks, herons and other water birds such as the kingfishers that visit us during the spring through late fall. 

Walker and his mate arrived early this year. We saw the wing dragging and thought a coyote or fox family would take him soon. But not so. He walked up the hill in front of our house to find food, and crosses the road to the neighbor's pond. We think they leave a shed door open for him to find shelter. The mate is now gone, as our most of the other geese, but we know she will return in the spring to see if Walker makes it through the winter. The ponds froze this week but portions melted yesterday, so he is safe for a bit longer. 

You might ask how we know Walker is a male. Well, we don't, but he is larger than the mate, and that usually means a male. You also might ask why we haven't called animal rescue, or something. And that reminds me of my childhood, raised on a farm in east central Illinois. I learned there to respect Nature's Way. A kitten with a broken leg was nurtured back to health by me after the leg was strapped to popsicle sticks. I loved to lay in a clean stall with a young calf, inundated with the scent of hay and warm animal. Baby chickens were in my hands before I knew to be gentle. As I was older I had horses to train and ride and bantam chickens to admire. Through these experiences my parents taught me to respect life and that Nature should be allowed to take its course with animals. There simply wasn't enough money to take a kitten to the vet, or to fix a goose's wing. 

Money was not the issue, however. My parents believed that humans were given the task of caring for God's creatures, but that humans came first. While I believe we've done a miserable job of that work, I am troubled that so many people will spend thousands of dollars on their animals but not a penny for humans in need.

OK, we now have five cats that we adore. They are fed the best food available and go to the vet as necessary. So should I call about Walker? I don't know. He probably can't be fixed, but the wing is stronger, and I keep hoping that the flapping exercises he performs (without benefit of physical therapy!) will one day carry him away. 

I know, however, that if he doesn't fly away, he remains free. Somehow, I believe that is what God intends. The ice is melting now, and the Almanac predicts a mild winter. 

So we'll keep watching Walker and cheering his courage. 

My Faith

In 2002 I was invited by Church Women United to speak about my Christian faith in a forum that would also include two other women, a Muslim and a Jew. The program was called Daughters of  Abraham. While honored to be asked I was painfully aware that this was just a year after Sept. 11, 2001, when the country was stunned at the attack by Muslim activists on the World Trade Center. That devastating event, of course, was the reason the religious women's group was having such a program. And I was just asked to talk about my faith, as were the others. Well, I have great respect for the "mother" of Christianity, the Jews, and have had many Jewish friends as well as hosting a Jewish student for a year in the 1970s. (A Jew on a hog farm? Hmmmm, that's another story!) And I felt that most Muslims did not interpret the Koran is the way that radicals had. So I agreed to speak and here's what I said: 

" I believe we can all agree that the greatest commandment is to love God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind. Today I will take you through my life as it relates to that commandment. I was born and raised in a fundamentalist Christian church, one that engaged my heart and gave me absolute belief and trust in God. I committed my life to God as a child, and quickly learned all they had to teach. I led the singing in worship every Sunday as a teenager and often sang solos as part of worship. But I began to question the rigidity of the teaching - maybe a love of dancing and rock and roll had something to do it it – but seriously, I did not believe that only one church could have all the answers for salvation, which is what they claimed. I felt God was bigger than that and could work in mysterious ways to accomplish God's purpose. I felt God could even work in Communist countries (the big scare in my younger life!) despite what my pastor said. My heart was committed to God, but I believe my mind was seeking a lot of answers about how to live in God's purpose and make a difference in the world!

"After marriage and children, God led us in 1972 to the Presbyterian church near our home. And I found my questions answered. I was particularly struck by the Book of Confessions, and about reconciliation as described in the Presbyterians' own confession of 1967. I believe this excerpt applies to us today as much as it did 30 years ago.

"Titled:Reconciliation in Society: 'God has created the peoples of the earth to be one universal family. In God's reconciling love, God overcomes the barriers between humans and breaks down every form of discrimination based on racial or ethnic difference, real or imaginary. The church is called to bring all humanity to receive and uphold one another as persons in all relationships of life: in employment, housing, education, leisure, marriage, family, church, and the exercise of political rights. therefore, the church labors for the abolition of all racial discrimination and ministers to those injured by it. Congregations, individuals, or groups of Christians who exclude, dominate, or patronize their fellow humans, however subtly, resist the Spirit of God and bring contempt on the faith they profess.

'God's reconciliation ... is the ground of the peace, justice, and freedom among nations which all powers of government are called to serve and defend. The church, in its own life, is called to practice the forgiveness of enemies and to commend to the nations as practical politics the search for cooperation and peace. This search requires that the nations pursue fresh and responsible relations across every line of conflict, even at risk to national security, to reduce areas of strife and to broaden international understanding. Reconciliation among nations becomes peculiarly urgent as countries develop nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons, diverting their manpower and resources from constructive uses and rising the annihilation of humanity.'

"This statement from the Confession of 1967 has informed my life. I have always believed that each person can make a difference in the church, in the community, and in the world, and that God is the God of all peoples. By putting God first in our lives – obeying the Great Commandment and reconciling with our neighbors, we can make that difference. God will give us the strength. 

"Beyond committing the heart, strength and mine, I've come to believe that all of our life impacts the soul. Battered and neglected in our busy lives, the soul requires nurture and needs our attention. Worship ... and at our home congregations ... is part of that nurture. A daily talk with God will proved the healing care our souls need. I highly recommend it! And I welcome this opportunity to nurture my soul with the stories of my sisters as we all celebrate that we are daughters of Abraham, and to love them as my neighbor. Thank you and may God's peace be with you. Amen and amen!"

Here in 2008, with a changed nation struggling with a world financial crisis, I find my soul still needs nurturing. Perhaps more so than before. And the work is still to do if we are to accomplish God's purpose, building God's kingdom on earth.  

Yet the fear mongers keep haranguing about terrorism and the differences among people of the Earth. Can we remember that we are all created by God? That we all are to place God first in our hearts, minds and souls? That our neighbors include Muslims, Buddhists, Jews, Taoists, and more, who like us are created in God's image? 

I do believe that the election of an African American as president of our nation indicates that it's not too late for us to change. Pray like you have never prayed before that it be so. 

Of Mothers and Daughters

My mother died more than 30 years ago, but I think of her almost daily. While reviewing my sporadic diary I found an entry from 1996, written on my daughter's birthday, that is a tribute to that eternal connection. 

June 1, 1996

"My mother taught me that daughters were special for many reasons, but one thing I remember her saying - that you never lose a daughter. While sons still love you and will take care of you, society still dictates that care giving is done by women. So the old saw, "a son is your son until he takes a wife, but a daughter is your daughter all of her life." Intellectually, I know this is not a cultural truth. The world says sons are the more important - hence China ran out of women, since the parents all want to have a son who will care for them when they are old. Many people put a high value on passing on the family name, even in America. but my relationship with my mother was far more than a cultural more. It was a friendship, with her caring beyond reason about me and my family. there was that little pain I know she felt when I hurt - her offering to do something, anything, to assist me. She wanted my happiness more than anything. I always knew that I would take care of her when she needed me, just as she did me.

That's how I feel about you, daughter. I want to fix your hurts, just like I did when you were a little girl. And I want you to be happy. I am just as proud of you and your life as my mother was of me. We have many more years to share that special relationship. And to pass it on. while I don't know whether my mother thought about the possibility that she might become physically unable to care for herself alone, until it happened ... but I know as well that should it happen to me, you will be there as I will for you. " That's what mother/daughter friendships are about!

I took care of my mother and dad for several years before they died. They were a standard for all of us to live by. I tried to pass on those qualities to my children, who helped care for them as well while they were teenagers. I believe that caring has influenced their lives and made them who they are - wonderful people whom I admire, respect and love. A fitting tribute!

The pain of it

Pain has always made me angry because it distracts me from my work and my life. And I've had plenty of pain for more than half my life. I was once again angered this week as my pelvis/hip joint once again twisted out just enough to make walking and most other positions painful. Thanks to my chiropractor, it's better today. But pain links me to the ages of humanity that have prevailed against adversity, internal and external. I've always believed that humans are basically hopeful and decent. When they grow up to be evil, probably they have had bad programming as a response to pain. Perhaps that helps explains terrorists. 

Even so, physical pain is different from mental and emotional anguish. Once, in the depths of despair, I cried out to God "Why?" But that self-centered reaction does not serve us. I realized that when my oldest son Frank was fighting cancer more than two decades ago. His courage and determination, along with some radical treatment by really good doctors, healed him. If he had said "Why?" it would have weakened him. And the rest of us were expected to behave likewise. So we did! Since then he has been determined to be healthy through exercise, nutrition and cultural stimulation. After surviving years of cancer, he certainly doesn't want to die from cholesterol!

Perhaps that courage and determination is the secret behind the indomitability of the human spirit. Of course, faith helps. But it doesn't protect us from pain. Only our reaction to pain keeps us moving. So I get mad! And keep working! 

Morning in America!

Last night I danced and wept with joy at the election of Barack Hussein Obama as the 44th president of the United States! And before his speech came on the air, I received an email from him thanking me for his support (as did the millions of others who have contributed to his campaign).  And he said "We have a lot of work to do to get our country back on track, and I'll be in touch soon about what comes next." He has invited all of us, whatever our party, to work together to rebuild this country. He leads with equanimity and charisma, clear vision and strength - strength built on his faith, his family and his patriotism. He promises to be the president for all of us. He stood firm before the world in saying that America was not to be messed with. But he emphasized it will take all of us to bring America back! And for the first time in many years, I have hope again for the country. I have never confused the hope that can be found in politics with the hope I find in God. Like all of you, I want a secure future for myself and my children and grandchildren. I believe we can have that with this election. 

So here I am, writing the first blog of my life. I will pour my hope into the words, perhaps not with the clarity and conciseness of Barack Obama, but with my own spin .... here in the wild wood where I live ... and dream!