A Book Review ~ Gilead

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It has been a long time since I've read a book that touched me so deeply and profoundly as this beautifully written book has done.  Rarely does one find a book so well written in such a thought provoking narrative prose.  The imagery in this book would stay with me as I went about my daily activities.


The themes of the book caused me to reflect on the great importance of embracing the simple beauty of the Christian faith when it is lived out in a humble way by those who attempt to act "from faithfulness to the truth" as they see it.   Some of the themes that I saw were: visions, baptism, communion of the Saints, forgiveness, war, race, ageism, parenting, the Prodigal, loneliness, history, and faith.


The narrator, John Ames, an elderly preacher dying from heart disease, tells his story by writing a missal of sorts to his young son.  He says, "For me writing has always felt like praying..."  Certainly, reading the book, I felt as if I were reading his prayers as John Ames struggled with his own humanness, his lack of faith, his faith, his struggles with forgiveness, and his need to understand the past and leave a story of what that past meant to him for his son to read.  He is committed to "Trying to say what was true."  He also is trying to make peace with himself and his lack of forgiveness and understanding.  He is bothered by his heart that keeps acting up and leaves him feeling old and tired.  He expresses his desire to die with a quiet heart.  In the end, I believe he did.


Gilead is about the past.  It is about a family caught up in abolition.  It is about how a pastor, a church, and community comes to terms with  war; in this case, the Civil War.  He speaks of how one generation does not embrace the struggles and visions of the generation preceding it, and acknowledges "we live in the ruins of lives of the other generations.

Gilead is a rich narrative.  The story is one stays with the reader.  It is about a bygone era.  It is about the times of our grandparents and great-grandparents.  It is how they connected to their times, their land, and their faith.  I felt at times as if I were reading my own family history since my great-grandfather who lived in Iowa served in the civil war.  It is also about how those who remembered those times tried to understand and adapt to the times just after World War II.

Community, and connections between long time friends is an important part of the story.  I loved the simplicity of the story, and yet the construction of the literary aspects of the book were quite complex and satisfying to ponder.

Gilead, according to Wikipedia,  says the biblical meaning of Gilead "means hill of testimony or mound of witness."  This image is seen throughout the book as John Ames connects the land to people, and people to their faith.

I will revisit this book.  I will read it again.  I know there is much more I can learn from this book.


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Treasured Friends ~ Treasured Times

Every three months, my dear high school friends meet for lunch.  This has been going on for over twenty years.  Most of us live scattered along the Front Range of Colorado from the Denver area to Pueblo.  The drive doesn't stop us from getting together.  We have our calendars marked three months in advanced for the next scheduled meeting of the group.  It seems there always a few who can't make it, but we nearly always have at least 12 to 15 girls (ladies) in attendance.  


In 2010, the weekend of a class reunion for the first four classes of our school, we held a special breakfast gathering for all of the girls from our class who were in town for the reunion.  That was our largest gathering ever.

EHS Girls of '63 Summer 2010

Yesterday, we had a very special Saint Patrick's Day gathering.  Originally, we were supposed to meet at my house, but Iris stepped up to the plate as the back-up person and held the party at her house.  Thanks, Iris!  She made sure we would all be decked out in a little green.

There are some great traditions that group continues to hold:

• The hostess provides the main course or meat dish.  This year since our gathering was held on St. Patrick's Day, two others and I fixed corned beef.  

• The others always bring the side dishes, appetizers, and desserts.  This time we had wonderful potatoes, boiled cabbage, a dish that combined cooked carrots, parsnips, and parsley, salad, Irish soda bread, and wonderful Irish oatmeal cake.  All of it was simply delicious.
• The group always makes a toast to those who have passed on and are no longer with us.  The toast started to honor Shirley Boyce, one of the original founders of the group, who passed away from breast cancer a number of years ago.  Now, we also remember our dear Judy who passed on in November of 2010.

Making a toast to those who have passed on. December 2011

• Before the margaritas are mixed, we always have to find out who the virgins are.  Or, at least we find out who wants a virgin margarita.

The three virgins

• We also must take the group photo as soon as we get there.  This is done right away so we don't forget to take it, and so we still look somewhat fresh.

EHS Girls of '63 Spring 2011

EHS Girls of '63 December 2011

• We try to always have a time when we sit down and go around the circle and update each other on what is happening in each other's lives.  This is where we celebrate the victories or support the hard times.  This group of ladies have all been through some rough things such as cancer, high blood pressure, loss of spouse, illnesses, loss of children, and divorce.  They are truly there for one another, and they have made the commitment to each other to be there when there is a need.  The deep concern, love and support that this group gives is just amazing.

Each time we get together, I am reminded that when my girls give a hug, they mean it.  

A hug from a favorite hugger: Val

Getting hugs & Getting the food set up go together

While no one is celebrated more than any other, we did have a few special attendees and guests yesterday. Dove came all the way from Vermont to attend the gathering which also happened to coincide with her birthday.  

Dove & Sally March 17, 2012

Back in September of this past year, Dove and I were together at her beautiful home in Vermont on the same day as the girls were meeting back in Colorado.

Dove & Sally Vermont, September 2011

Dove & Eileen catching up and reminiscing about days going as far back as kindergarten

A birthday cake was in order since it was Dove's birthday.  I wrote about Dove in this post.  The first date with my husband was when we attended her 16th birthday party. She is the person who lined me up with this wonderful man I married.  Thanks again, Dove!

.

 In 2010, the group met at my home on my birthday.  I remember how thrilled we were that our dear friend Judy was well enough to join us.  She is sitting in the gold chair.  She had been through a really rough spot just before our gathering, but she made sure she joined us.  A few months later, her illness in remission, she looked so well and healthy at our summer reunion gathering.  (She is seated in the front row of that photo and is wearing a turquoise colored pair of slacks.)  Sadly, she would pass away just months after that.  True to the commitment this group has to each other, and true to the love they have for each other, many from the group met at her bedside as she was moved to hospice and just a short few hours before she passed away.  

EHS Girls '63 February 2010

Yesterday, the other special guests who joined us for dessert were Judy's granddaughter Maddie and her husband Ted.  It was so good to see Maddie, who seems to be doing so well.  She totally got into the St. Patrick's Day theme and made sure she was decked out in green from head to toe.  

EHS Girls '63 with Ted & Maddie March 2012

As Dove drove me back to my house, we talked about how wonderful the gathering had been.  It was the first time Dove had actually been able to attend with us.  Although she had been at the summer reunion in 2010, she had never experienced the small intimate group.  We remarked how wonderful it is to be with the girls we grew up with. I find these times together with the group so affirming and grounding for me.  I think Dove summed it all up best when she wrote on Facebook,  I felt very nourished and energized by spending a few hours with them. Wonderful open hearted hugs and deep caring for one another, the power of women is a beautiful thing to experience.


There is an authenticity to the group that one seldom finds.  We know where we came from, who we are, and what we have been through.  Some of us knew each other's parents and siblings.  We remember the neighborhoods we grew up in together.  We remember our teachers, and we remember how we just never had enough time to talk and got in trouble in class because we couldn't stop talking.  In fact, we shared and talked non-stop from 11:30 a.m. to 6:00 p.m yesterday.  Then, sadly the clock said we had to part again, but we will meet again in three months.  

From One Shoebox to Another

A Review of the iPhone App Shoebox


Some background on the app:


In my last posting, I made reference to Shoebox and 1000 Memories.  One of my blogging friends,  Rosaria  from sixtyfivewhatnow asked me about the app I used to download the large family portrait I included in the blog post.

For those of you who may not know about Shoebox and 1000 Memories, I thought it would be fun to share what I have been doing with this app.   My daughter Keicha, who blogs at o-townramblings,  first told me about this app a few weeks ago.  This post will not give technical information about the app because I am not very good at giving technical information.  If you need technical information, go to 1000memories.com.  If that doesn't work for you,  just download the Shoebox app onto your iPhone, and I'm sure you will be walked through the process.  Thankfully, my daughter walked me through the process, and then, unfortunately,  I forgot it all.

The concept behind the idea of Shoebox and 1000 Memories is the brain child of Rudy Adler and Brett Huneycutt.  Their goal is to "turn the world's smartphones into tools to digitalize the estimated 1.8 trillion fading and yellowing snapshots that people have lying around in their attics, garages and picture albums..."  Isn't that an awesome idea?  I  didn't know anything about the creators of this app or the genius of their idea until after I had actually downloaded the app and started using it.  I then read about the app in yesterday's Denver Post.  (Click to read the article.)

I guess Mark Zuckerberg also thought this app was cool because now he and Facebook have joined forces with 1000 Memories in order to allow users to add the photos from their newly digitalized photos to their timelines on Facebook.  I haven't quite gotten that far yet.  None of my photos are on Facebook, but I hope to share them with family using that format soon.

Using the app:


I had the perfect opportunity to practice using this new app this past weekend when some of my cousins, an aunt, and I gathered at the home of an aunt who passed away a few years ago.  The home still contained many family mementos, and my cousin wanted us to come by and take what we might want so she could get the house ready to rent.

One of the treasures we found was this large framed portrait of my grandfather.  My aunt said she would like to take the portrait of her father home with her.  As we stood admiring the portrait some of us had never seen before, I suddenly remembered I had Shoebox on my phone.

A. French 1906 Binghamton, NY

Since the portrait was framed and behind glass, with my aunt's permission, we took the portrait from the frame because I couldn't capture a good scan using my phone due to the glare from the glass.  The next problem to be solved involved trying to place the portrait on a table and get a good scan.  I saw an easel, so I put the portrait on the easel and then used the phone to scan the portrait.

We discovered my grandfather's handwriting on the back of the portrait.  He had recorded when and where the portrait was taken.  He also noted that it was taken in his uncle's studio by his uncle.  I was able to also scan this handwritten documentation using my smartphone with the Shoebox app.

As we went through dishes, glassware, and such, I discovered a shoebox full of old photos.  I took just a handful and scanned them.  Here is a sampling:

This photo was taken in my grandparent's backyard when my father came home from the service in January of 1946.  My father is holding me, and my brother is standing at his side.  I have a photo that is similar to this that includes my mother, but had never seen this particular photo.  I love this photo because it records the first time my father spent any time with me as an infant because he was drafted into the army on the day I was born.

This priceless treasure was taken the same day.  My father is shown in this photo with his two brothers who were also home on leave.  My Uncle Charles was a paratrooper, and my Uncle Bob was in the Marines.  As I understand it, Christmas was celebrated on the day the photos were taken because the family waited for the boys to come home before having Christmas.  My grandmother recorded the date on the back of the photo as January 20th, 1946.

My handsome father with his handsome brothers 1946

This photo was bit of a challenge because it is in color.  I found that by placing the photo on a white paper, I could scan it more easily.  This photo was also taken in my grandparent's backyard, and it is of my brother.  I would guess he is about two years old.

This portrait of my mother sits in a frame in my office.  I did not remove the photo from the frame because I was experimenting.  As you can see, it is difficult to get the edges straight by holding the phone and scanning if one does not place the photo on a flat surface.  I can crop this using the app, but included it so you could see that some of the scanning takes some time and proper placement of the item being scanned.

I love this portrait of my beautiful mother.  She had this taken while my father was away in the army so he would have a picture of her to carry with him.  This same portrait was on a dresser in my parent's bedroom when I was child.  I remember studying it once when I must have been about five years old.  I was struck by my mother's great beauty.  I ran in the kitchen and looked at her and said, "Mama, did you know you were pretty?"

This photo of my sister and me was taken by a neighbor who was learning how to take portraits.  He posed us in front of his living room window after he positioned a hose on window.  He wanted to create a scene that appeared as if two children looking outdoors on a rainy day.  He entered a large portrait of this exact pose in a contest and won first prize.  For a number of years, this portrait of the two of us hung in the Fine Arts Center of Colorado Springs.

I was able to scan this from a 8 X 10 framed copy that I now have in my study by placing the photo on a flat surface and scanning it with my iPhone.

Sally and Carol

Finally, I am sharing the first scan I took using Shoebox.  This photo was one of the poses of my daughter Julie taken for her senior picture.  I love this photo of Julie because it captures her smile, her eyes, and her hair so well.

Not long after her death, I was reframing the photo and decided to trim the sides to fit it into the frame better.  I'd forgotten she had written on the back of it.  I was devastated to think I had destroyed part of the message she had written on the back.  With Shoebox, I was able to easily scan her handwritten message so it would be saved with her photo for others to see.  

She wrote:

Mom,

This is one to show my hapiness & I would like for 

you to show it to me when I'm down to show me 

a smile lights the world.  Even though

you make me feel better just being around.

Love,

Julie

Yes, the photos are "often among the most prized, and least seen of people's possessions."  I love having a way to save and share these treasures in a format that also allow one to tell the story behind the pictures.  

Act III, Scene II

"Just give me a stage," I've often said.  Perhaps that is one reason I enjoyed teaching high school English.  I was front and center on stage everyday.  

My love for the stage began in high school when I joined the drama club and began to audition for high school plays.  My favorite class my senior year in high school was drama.  That year, I had a leading part in several plays.  

Perhaps, my love of plays and acting were one reason why I was drawn to the poem below by Madeleine L'Engle the first time I saw the title in print during the 1980's.  On my first reading of the poem, I found myself relating to what she had written at a very deep level.  

*The Main Characters in  My Life or My Cast of Thousands

"Act III, Scene II"

                            By Madeleine L’Engle

         Someone has altered the script.

        My lines have been changed.

        The other actors are shifting roles.

        They don’t come on when they’re expected to,

        and they don’t say the lines I’ve written

        and I’m being upstaged.

        I thought I was writing this play

        with a rather nice role for myself,

        small, but juicy

        and some excellent lines.

        But nobody gives my cues

        and the scenery has been replaced.

        I don’t recognize the new sets.

        This isn’t the script I was writing.

        I don’t understand this plot at all.

     

        To grow up

        is to find

        the small part you are playing

in this extraordinary drama

written by somebody else.

When I first read this poem, I was just going through a divorce I did not want and it seemed my life was upside down.  Suddenly, the part of wife and mother I thought I would play throughout my life was being ripped away from me.  The story of my divorce 30 years ago, and the subsequent fall-out from that divorce, are not the topic of this blog post.  That is a story for another day.  

This poem spoke to me all those many years ago because I realized I had limited control over the script of my life.  Even though I fancied myself an author who was writing a stage play that I thought I rather liked, I learned that the other leading character in the play did not like his role, or perhaps he didn't like the lines I wanted him to speak, or it might have been the final outcome of the play that he did not like. In the end, the author of the play, that would be me, had to do a rewrite.  

The script of my life that I thought I would write hasn't really gone the way I had it in my head even after I started working on the re-write.  I had no idea of the joy and the tragedy that be included in my new script.  Lately, the characters have been shifting in the major and minor parts that I thought they would play.  Believe me, "I don't understand the plot at all."  I think I am beginning to really understand the last few lines of the line of the poem.  I am coming to accept my part in this grand drama of life.  

I have a very small part.  I can't write the script.  I can't even direct the production of this drama.  I can't write the parts the other characters who share the stage with me are playing.  

Thankfully, I continue to fully trust in a Sovereign power who has control over the entire production.

*******

*This family portrait shows the entire Wessely-Christiansen family.  The group includes all of my husband's children, sons-in-law, and grandchildren, and all of my children, sons-in-law and daughter-in-law, and my grandchildren.  Only one daughter-in-law is missing because she was studying out of the country when the portrait was taken.  This portrait hangs in our family room.  I used Shoe Box 1000 Memories to take the photo of the portrait which was originally photographed by Portraits by Leslie in Pueblo, Colorado.  

Birthday Wishes to My Daughter Amy

Our birthday celebrations are usually linked together because they both fall within a week of each other.

I will miss not being there with you this year.

Amy, or as your name means,

Beloved,

I don't know what I would do without you.

You are the one who talks straight to me.

You are the one who always gives me the best advice.
Others call her you my mini-me.
Yes, of all my children, 

Amy is the one who is so much like me that it sometimes makes it hard on both of us.

Amy's birthday, 2010 Hannah, Amy, Mason

We've been through a lot together, dear Amy.

I hope you know

your smile absolutely lights up my life.

Your tears break my heart.

In my treasure trove of photos,

you seem to always be smiling.

You always have your arm around someone.

Mother's Day 2009

With Mason 2011

With daughter and niece Hannah, Amy, Regan

With nephew Amy & Parker

You're the one who bakes the cakes or the pies for celebrations.

You are always a gracious hostess,

and a gracious guest.

You are caring and loyal to others.

Hannah's Peace Birthday Cake

Julie's birthday cake

You're the one who loves to go out and kick up her heels.

You always win at Trivia Pursuit.

Your fun personality makes you a welcome addition to any social gathering.

Mom, Amy, Keicha, Julie

You are an awesome mom who loves your kids like crazy.

With Hannah

Your courage and determination have inspired me over the last few years.

You are a strong, competent young woman.
You have had to survive great loss,
yet, you've been able to keep your head up, smile,  and keep on going.

Mother,

Sister,

Aunt,

Cousin,

Daughter,

You excel at each of these roles.

I am blessed to have you as my daughter.

You mean so much to me.

Thanks, Amy, for being there for me.

Thanks for being you.

I love you.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Where Does the Time Go? Another Birthday Rolls Around

Cousins & Siblings Rell, Donna, Sally, David, Carol, Linda, Diana

It seems like not that long ago that this photo was snapped.  I marvel to think that it has been sixty years since we gathered in my aunt's kitchen to celebrate my cousin Donna's birthday. Since her birthday is only 11 days after mine, I can be seen wearing my new birthday dress.  I am the third person on the left.

The faces in photo are all so dear to me.  They speak of such happy and carefree childhood times.
Truly, I am amazed that those days are so far in the past, and that I have just reached the age of sixty-seven.

A Birthday to Celebrate

Late last week, my husband told me he had made reservations for a birthday brunch for Sunday.  "I know it is a few days early, but we will be busy on your birthday, so I wanted to make sure we had a nice brunch," he said.  I thought that seemed thoughtful and reasonable.  On Sunday, two hours before we needed to leave, he suggested I get in the shower and get ready because he wanted to go earlier than he had first said.  I thought nothing of it, but decided to accommodate his request.  When I was ready, uncharacteristically, he wasn't ready and needed to do a few more things on the computer.  Again, I thought nothing of it.  So, to pass the time, I called my oldest daughter to chat.  She seemed surprised to hear from me.  Again, not thought was given to this.  

As I was talking, the door bell rang.  "Who can that be?"  I asked my daughter.  My husband made no movement toward going downstairs to get the door.  So, I went down to open the door and gazed out to see an attractive, young, dark-haired woman holding flowers and a cake.  To myself, I said, "Who delivers flowers and a cake on a Sunday, two days before my birthday?"  Then the woman said, "Happy Birthday, Mom."

Truly, I had no idea.  I didn't even recognize Amy!  Her hair was darker, she had her head slightly turned, and I absolutely did not have a clue that she would make a surprise visit.  I grabbed her in a hug and started to sob.  I was so happy to see her.  I have missed my kids so much lately.

Amy with birthday flowers

As is Amy's norm, she showed up with flowers.  As is the tradition, she brought daffodils mixed into my birthday bouquet.  I really can't remember a birthday for the last 15 or 20 years where either Amy or Julie, or both, sent or brought me daffodils.  They are my favorite flowers.

I had to beg for photos.  She "hates" to have her picture taken.

Amy arranging my flowers

Truly, I was overjoyed to see Amy.  She made my day for sure.  Boston was just as overjoyed.  

I cried.  

I hugged.

Boston lept in the air, barked, whined, and wagged his tail.

I know just how he felt.

Amy and Boston

So, I guess my husband and my daughter had been in cahoots. They planned my surprise.  Amy wanted to come down for the weekend.  She didn't have her kids that weekend, it was my birthday, and we always try to watch the Academy Awards together, even if it has to be done by phone.  After Boston and I settled down, and the flowers were arranged, we went to Sunday Brunch at Coyote Grille. This place is one of my favorites.  We had a wonderful meal, and a wonderful time together.  

*I featured Coyote Grill in this blog post a year ago.  

We came home and ate the scrumptious birthday cake that Amy brought.

My hubby sang "Happy birthday" to me before we cut the cake.

He always brings a smile to my face.

Happy birthday serenade

*******************

On my actual birthday, Tuesday, February 28th, my hubby drove me to Castle Rock, Colorado for my second appointment with the vestibular therapist that I have been seeing.  Before we left, he had a beautifully wrapped gift, as sweet card, and another cake sitting on the breakfast table when I got up that morning.  I loved the wrapping!  I loved the contents:  a nice new knit top and some beautiful, chunky blue beads.  

My appointment went well.  I have greatly improved since my last visit.  That was very encouraging.  The exercises, and time, are probably working well together.

After lunch, we went to lunch at Augustine's in Castle Rock.  I loved this cute little place.  Using his cell phone, Jim snapped my birthday photo.  I wearing my new knit top and necklace.  

We both ordered Salad Nicoise with ahi tuna.

I loved the ambiance of the restaurant, the salad, not so much.

At least we had cake to look forward to at home.

Not like I needed another cake, but my husband had ordered it before he knew Amy was bringing one.

What are birthdays for anyway?  Isn't all about cake?  

This is my favorite kind of cake:  carrot cake.

The day was made very special by many facebook greeting, cards, and phone calls from my family, and flowers.  I have flowers in every room on the first floor.

This beautiful purple rose arrangement is from my son Jon and his family.

This beautiful arrangement is from the family of my son Ryan.

Thank you to all who made my day so special!

**************

On the day after my birthday, Leap Day, I continued to celebrate.  I had coffee early in the morning with a dear friend from high school days.  Iris suggested that we go to Colorado Springs that evening to go to the movie.  Of course, I jumped at the chance.  We went to see "The Artist." 

Right away, I found myself thinking that the film was just delightful.  I also thought it was refreshing.  I really did enjoy everything about the movie.  It was uplifting, light, and unique.   In my opinion, Berenice Bejo, made the film what it is.  I was fascinated by her.  I don't know why she didn't get any nominations.  I loved her smile, her hair, her clothes, her cute little moves, and her ability to dance.  Jean Dujardin did a great job.  I like his characterization of a silent film star who was on his way out, but I'm still not sure that he deserved best actor.  I still have to see George Clooney in his film to make that determination for myself.

After dinner, Iris and I walked downtown to grab some dinner and then headed back to Pueblo ending a wonderful birthday celebration that lasted several days.

************

One last thing.  I also got my CPAP machine yesterday.  It turns out, I have sleep apnea.  See, good thing come from bad things.  I doubt this would have been discovered without the fall and subsequent referrals to an ear, nose and throat specialist.  I successfully slept with my new machine last night.  I woke up much refreshed and have seemed experience a decrease in my racing heart and heart palpitations today.  Time will tell...

Former Students

I was reminded of this experience after I read Mare's post on her blog, Zoaring with Glinda.  She posted this quote from Haim Ginott.

Source: zoaringwithglinda.blogspot.com via Sally on Pinterest

My heart was racing at 150 beats of minute.  I couldn't seem to bring it down.  Having suffered from tachycardia (rapid heart beat) and arrhythmia for years, I usually can just soldier through these attacks.  This time,  the racing just would not stop.  I had my husband drive by the hospital on our way home from our walk.

After barely being able to walk into the emergency room, ready to collapse when I got to the window, I said, "After a walk, my heart began racing, I can't bring it down, and I'm going to collapse."  Immediately, a pulse sock was placed through the window, "Yep, it's racing."  I was in a wheel chair immediately and wheeled back to a room in the ER.

In came four nurses.  In came the doctor.  I was quickly placed on an EKG machine.  I didn't even know I got an IV.  I described my symptoms.  I tried to keep calm while I chewed the four baby aspirin.  Even on the EKG, my heart was still beating at 140.  Thankfully, it was not showing anything but normal sinus rhythm, but the doctor said we had to wait and see what the blood enzymes showed.  So, I tried to relax again and wait it out.

After all the emergency personnel exited, with a blood pressure cuff on one arm, an IV in the other, I was left alone in the room half dressed.  I think someone had barely covered me up, but I couldn't reach to finish the job.  

About then, a familiar looking young man walked into the room.  "Just checking on you," he said.  "I'm Nolan," he said.  Then his eyes went down to the floor as he quickly walked over to me and gently took the corner of my gown and snapped it at the shoulder.  "Yes, Nolan, I recognize you now," I say.  "Tell me your last name.  I've forgotten.  I had you in ninth grade English, didn't I?" 

In my mind's eye, I could see him sitting just a few seats up from my desk.  He was always a quiet, but respectful student.  It seemed odd to see him in my hospital room.  I felt so disheveled, so vulnerable.  My hair was a fright.  I had on no make-up.  I could barely form a sentence at that moment, let alone teach how to write one.  It seemed as if the tables had all been turned.  I was no longer the professional delivering services to my students.  I was now a patient, barely clothed, being attended to by a former student who was now the professional.

I apologized for my appearance.  I asked what he had been doing with his life.  I was happy to hear he had chosen to become an EMT and had finished the course of study.  All the time, I kept thinking how you just never know when one of those former students will show up.

Just before he left, I said, "Thank you for looking after to me today, and for checking on me.  I saw the concern in your eyes."  With a laugh, I added, "My husband has always says, 'Be nice to your students because you never know when they could be taking care of you in the hospital.'"  He smiled.  I then said, "I hope I was always nice to you."  His reply meant the world.  "Yes, Mrs. Wessely, you were always more than nice."

Respect for those we serve is best experienced on the receiving end.  I learned that lesson again when this young man's first move was to avert his eyes while he covered me up so I could maintain some measure of dignity in his presence.  

Pacing - Part II

Tonight, I sit at my computer cognizant of my inability to put together the post I really want to write.  There are too many pieces and parts to it, and I have not significantly put together the parts in my mind to create the whole.  As I think of how I am unable to complete a task that would have seemed so easy a few months ago, I become even more aware of how much healing my brain still needs in order to do what I once was able to do.  I would be very discouraged about realizing that I can't formulate a clearly presented post on the topic about which I wish to write if it were not for the fact that I am

rejoicing

over

 not being 

dizzy.

For three days prior to today, I was so dizzy I could barely function.  When I get those dizzy spells, or the accompanying headaches, I begin to think I will never be well again.  

The search for answers about my symptoms:

Since my head injury on the January 2, I have been referred to several specialist.  One was an opthamologist  who ruled out a visual mid-line shift.  I had never heard of such a disorder, but it turns out that this can accompany head trauma.  The good news is that many people can reclaim their lives once they are diagnosed with visual mid-line shift by being fitted with prism lenses.  The sad news is that many of our soldiers are coming home with this problem which could be fixed by these lenses, but they don't have the type of insurance coverage to take care of the lenses.  Without insurance the cost is prohibitive.  Even with insurance, the co-pays can also be prohibitive.  I have been told there are 20,000 returning soldiers in Colorado Springs who suffer from head injury trauma and/or PTSD.  The services they need are many times not covered by insurance.

The opthamologist who ruled out visual mid-line shift did diagnose a vestibular disorder.  He referred me to a vestibular rehab specialist.  I met with this wonderful therapist in Castle Rock, Colorado, which is about two hours from my home, on Valentine's Day.  I was given a very through exam, and I was also assessed as to my risk factor for falling, and for the severity of my problem.  It turns out I am at moderate risk for falling again.  I also have a pretty significant imbalance in my balance system.  The good news is:  It is most likely quite fixable.  The bad news:  It takes time, and it could get worse before it gets better.

It turns out I am "visually" dependent.  I use my vision excessively for balance.  Since my fall, I experienced "visual motion hypersensitivity."  This is one reason I can't spend much time on the computer, on my iPhone using apps.  This hypersensitivity also means I can't drive, do much reading, nor can I tolerate spending time in crowds, or shopping.  I told my husband that WalMart make me crazy because it is too visually stimulating.  She countered with the bet that I would have no trouble at Nordstroms.  (He may or may not have a point there.)   I just know that when I am too visually stimulated, I get dizzy.

What I learned about pacing: 

• I cannot go to a high school basketball game on Friday night unless I plan on taking it easy the next day.
• Walking along a winding path around a lake that reflects sunlight off its waves on a Saturday morning while watching the dog dart back and forth in front of my is extremely visually stimulating.  That is why when I became dizzy on a walk Saturday morning, I should have spent the rest of the day resting.
• One who understands pacing, would not have gone to a dedication ceremony on Saturday afternoon after becoming dizzy just walking beside a lake.  I did not understand pacing, nor did I assess my true condition well, so I went to the ceremony.  When I looked up on the stage during the dedication ceremony to watch a power point presentation flash photos across a screen, I became so dizzy, I had to leave the auditorium.
• Mingling with the crowd of friends who had gathered at the ceremony also is not a good idea when one is dizzy.  Crowds make one more dizzy.

I spoke with my vestibular therapist today.  She was helpful in helping me deconstruct the cumulative events that led to my three day dizzy spell.  

Pacing oneself is truly a learning process.  I love to walk along the river walk in our town.  I love to go to the basketball games.  I love to spend time writing and reading on my computer.  I love to socialize.  I love to be in groups of people.  Those are the activities that defined me in the past.  I also think that if I feel good one day, I can jump back in where I left off.  

I am wrong.  

I have more to learn about healing.

I love this quote that my vestibular therapist has hanging in her office:

Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is PATIENCE

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

That lesson, the secret of adopting nature's pace, is not one I will learn easily.

Patience is a hard lesson for me to learn, and to practice.

To My Valentine

For several weeks he has asked, "What do you want for Valentine's Day?"
"Nothing, really.  Just some little romantic thing," I say.
"What?" he asks, pleading for a better answer.
Since I can't give him a concrete answer, he takes me shopping.
He buys be two fleece vests and a new knit top.
Then, on Monday, he says, "I must slip away for a bit.  I have some things I must do."
This morning, after he had
fed the dog,
made the coffee,
fetched the papers,
I finally descended the stairs
ready to greet my dear Valentine and the day.
He hadn't noticed my gift to him on the chest in the living room.
"Oh, I was just getting ready to put your gift together," he says after opening his.
He then slipped out to the car, and walked in the house with a sweet, boyish smile on his face.
He carried a little romantic thing in his hands:
A package of cookies from the Cookie Lady
and a beautiful unique card.
"I thought the card was different and very nice," he says.
"Yes, it is very nice, and romantic," I say.

I don't want Hallmark to sue me, so I am quoting the card, I picked for him:

Every woman dreams

about the perfect husband -

someone warm and caring,

thoughtful and affectionate,

funny and sensitive, 

she often ends up with less.

Except me...

When I married you,

I ended up with a lot more.

This man that I married, 

is a treasure,

a gift beyond measure.

I don't know how I would have made it through the past two years without him.

Source: themesbank.com via Sally on Pinterest

God blessed me the day He gave me this special man to be my husband.

Source: themesbank.com via Sally on Pinterest

Without my husband's love, support, and care I don't know where I would be.
Thank you for being YOU, Jim.
Thank you for loving me.

Attempting to Learn A New Skill

Pacing - A New Lifeskill that I must learn


I am trying to learn to pace myself.  That will new a new skill for me.  Perhaps, I've never really been good at pacing myself.  I've been thinking about what the ability to pace myself would look like to me.

• Pacing myself would require that I am able to realistically accomplish what needs to be accomplished in a reasonable amount of time.  I'm not sure that is even possible for me because I am a life long procrastinator who never started on a project or writing assignment in a timely manner.  Starting early on a project has never been my style.  I think I wrote every writing assignment I ever had at the last minute.  That meant I would stay up all night writing while I was in college.  It also meant I seldom had time for editing or re-writes. 
• Pacing myself would mean I would have to plan ahead.  Unfortunately, I've never been real gifted in the area of planning either.  If you want proof of that, look at where I planted a lavender plant.  (This unlovely photo of a trimmed back lavender plant in winter was taken to remind myself that I must consider how big the plant will grow when planting next to a walkway.  This point was driven home to me after I planted a row of lavender next to the walkway and by autumn I could no longer find the stepping stones.  The lesson:  Plan ahead.  Consider how much things grow in a realistic way. Use a measuring tape if you must, but spacing must be considered when planting.

Lavender in winter

The next year, I had to take out the rock used as stepping stones 

and place them farther away from the plants.

New pathway next to the lavender

• Pacing myself would mean that I must consider other factors when getting to an appointment on time.  I can't give myself the bare minimum of time to get somewhere.  Traffic might slow me down along the way if I don't give myself enough time to get to my destination.  I might get lost.  The list could go on and on.  Again, this is a life-long problem for me.  I'm one of those who runs in the door of an appointment at the last minute, or if I'm feeling especially time conscious, I might be a few minutes early, but this is somewhat rare.  Pacing myself is truly a skill I need to develop and practice.
• Pacing myself is essential now that I seem to be doing better since my fall.  I can't just jump in and schedule a full day's worth of activities.  I can't do this because I will crash mentally and physically, and that will mean I will be worthless the next day.  Pacing myself is essential for my total healing.

If I had any doubt that the last statement were true, I learned it yesterday.  My day seemed like a normal day would be pre-fall.  

1. I met a dear friend for coffee in the morning.  I actually drove the mile or two from home and felt quite thrilled to be able to do that.  I felt well, and I also felt grateful for the independence I was feeling.  Plus, I was really looking forward to some time with my friend from high school days.  We've only reconnected in the past year or so, yet we are so much on the same wave length, it felt good to just chat, and compare notes on life, retirement, and consulting after retirement.  The time flew by way too quickly.  It was great to be out and about again.
2. For the past six months, I have been serving on a committee at the University where I used to work.  This committee is working on a project to get accreditation for the English language program that is a part of the International Program.  I was worried about being able to sit through yesterday's two hour meeting.  I didn't know how I would do in an academic setting which would involve thinking, reading, writing, and discussion.  I've been very unsure of my language skills since my head injury and have noticed some problems.  Thankfully, I was able to be a full participant.  I listened.  I took notes.  I asked pertinent questions.  I made suggestions that were well received and noted.  In other words, it seemed I held my own while I was there.  In fact, I was asked if I would consider working as a paid consultant on the project.  (I am considering the offer.  Would I pace myself if I took it?)
3. My husband and I had an early dinner/business meeting with our high school reunion group.  We have been a part of this group for several years now.  The reunion that we planned was in 2010.  The reunion group keeps meeting because we love to get together, and we are working on a memorial for our former principal who was the first principal of the high school we attended.  We have commissioned a sculptural relief honoring him, and we are dedicating the relief and naming the commons area of the school after him.  The work on this all began prior to the reunion in 2010, and we are finally completing the project.  

When my husband reminded me of the dinner meeting, I gave out a big sigh.  I wanted to go, but I also wanted to put on my pajamas and sit quietly.  I probably should have done that.  A person who was realistic about being able to pace herself would have done that.  

I barely made it through dinner.  We had to leave early.  My head was splitting.  I could barely utter a cogent thought.  I had to close my eyes and not look at the oncoming lights from the cars from the road.  I came home and went to bed.

Today, I have done next to nothing.  Well, I did write this blog post.  I also went for a chiropractic adjustment.  That always helps.  I am suffering more from the whiplash effect of the fall these days than the trauma to the brain.  

As I rest, I remind myself that healing  involves learning how to pace oneself.  It means one might not be able to jump right back into a busy lifestyle.  It also means I must give myself permission to be gentle to myself and to be realistic when it comes to learning what I can and cannot do at this point in time.  

I am grateful, so very grateful, for my progress.  Now, I must not rush ahead of myself.