June 3, 2009
We invited several friends over for a luncheon yesterday noon, and I awakened feeling ill again, but having begun the food preparations the day before, and having the able and willing help of John-Paul and Charles, I determined to go ahead with the planned event. This worked very well, a great deal like having staff, and we were pleased that we didn’t give up on the day. I had spoken of miracles, and the fact that they don’t necessarily last for the rest of one’s life, but are miracles nonetheless. My lovely time lasted fourteen days, then the systems within began to complain once more. It felt a bit like being told one must move back into a sorry hut after living in a nice house for a while, however, it is far better to have had the fine experience for a short while than to trudge on unknowing. In moving on without any therapies, the best strategy for me is the inner voice that says, “It is what it is”. (this is a quote from a funny tale about the twin granddaughters traveling – see the May 13, 2008 Blog) There is a constant change in life that slowly emerges and permits one to go on with acceptance of the present circumstances. Also, miracles continue to be possible, and are grand for lifting the hope and the heart!
Sanctuary moves from scent to scent. The honeysuckle bushes and Dames Rockets are finished blooming now, and the wild roses and red clover have begun. This year, there are many honeybees, so a busy hum can be heard as one passes the flowering plants. I have had to set aside the bird tracking for a bit because Alphie has become obsessed with digging holes, and in order to assist him past this latest fetish of dogdom I focus on him entirely instead of looking at the treetops. He has never unearthed anything, and some of his holes have gotten deep enough to be a nuisance. I went into the Internet to inquire about what might cause a dog to suddenly become obsessive about digging holes, and “boredom” was listed after the phrase, “You could just as easily ask, ‘Why do birds fly?’” We know Alphie is exercised greatly, and since he runs off leash over 40 acres, it can’t be boredom with a little yard, etc., so I have concluded he is just being a dog, and this too shall pass.
Several of my dear friends have mentioned that if it is possible, they would hope I might communicate with them from “the other side” once I have died. In my own frame of reference, other than the Easter message of God’s saving grace and Christ’s conquering death with the promise of joyful continuation in eternal life there is no guidebook about where or what transpires after one’s death. It is my thought that all of us construct our own images and ways to deal with our life’s end on earth and what might then take place. When I shared with Charles and John-Paul the friend’s requests, after a short silence, dear Charles said, “I suppose you noticed that I never asked for any communications from you from the other side” and John-Paul said, “Actually, Mom, I haven’t either”. After a moment of consideration I had to respond that, well, neither had his sisters, and it was perfectly clear that the family needed a little respite from my fine voice and even finer opinions. The three of us broke into gales of laughter at the mental images each of us evoked, and it was a moment of great delight. So life goes on, and “It is what it is”.