Springtime Flurry of Activity

Living in limbo is no fun.  We have listed out house to sell so we can move to a town forty miles north of us.  It is my hometown, so in some ways, I will be going home.  We have even found the house we want to buy and have put money on it in a contingency offer.  After making the decision to move, I found it hard to approach my garden in the same way as I usually do this time of year.

Certainly, there was much spring clean-up to do in preparation to putting the house on the market, so out I went with my trimmers, my shovel, and my weed digging tools.  Once I got started digging in the dirt, I didn't really want to stop.  Suddenly, I felt so much better than I had all winter.  I tell you, pulling weeds is good for the soul.

One thing led to another.  I really did have to transplant a few things.  I just couldn't let the flower beds remain so overgrown with perennials that need to be transplanted.  Then, there were the delphiniums.  I really had planted them in the wrong spot.  They always looked lovely in the spot I had chosen for them surrounding the birdbath, but the wind catches them and whips them about so that their tall stalks end up on the ground.  They really did need to be moved to a more protected spot in the yard.

Coleus Garden 2011

Once, the transplanting was done, I decided the beds needed some annuals.  Having some flowers in pots, and adding annuals to borders as I always do would only add to the "curb appeal" of the house.  Once I stepped into a nursery, it was all over.  I had to load up the car with plants to bring home and plant.  There is nothing more satisfying than spending a day digging in the dirt and planting annuals.  I also planted some more herbs and even a few tomato plants.

Black-eyed Susans Garden 2011

Zinnia Garden 2011

After all that flurry of activity of bending, digging, stretching, and lifting, I had to make a visit to the chiropractor, but my mental state is great.  My physical state is also great except for those places where I feel my age.

We have had a flurry of activity in showing our house also.  So far, there have been no offers.  How could anyone not just love this place?  I guess the right family for this house just haven't seen it yet.  I am hopeful, but I am not getting my hopes up in this economy.  This causes us to really feel like we are living in a state of being betwixt and between.

Hibiscus Garden 2011

I could not spent this spring in limbo.  I may be selling this place.  It is up for sale, but it is still my home.  I still live here.  I love sitting and looking at my flowers.  I haven't stopped making plans for what I want to plant where.  This makes it hard to move on to a new place in many ways, but I don't know when that will happen, so while I am here, I will continue to bloom where I am planted.

Pope John Paul II Garden 2011

Don't you just love the rose above?  It truly is a beautiful rose.  You can read more about it by clicking on the name of rose.  It was a Mother's Day Gift a few years ago from my oldest son and his family.

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

I will be taking a short break from blogging.  

I will be back to blog land sometime next week.

Enjoy your Memorial Day Weekend.

Leadville Colorado "On Top of the World"

Journal Cover Moods & Memories Code 2794 Current, Inc.

Colorado

I am a Colorado Girl.I was raised at the foot of the beautiful Pikes Peak.I like to think it was the first thing I saw as I left the hospital after I was born.

Mountains, I loved them all of my life.

Memories of A Colorado Mountain Girl

I recently came across a journal I had started in my thirties. I remember buying the journal when I lived in Utah.  I saw the Colorado State Flower on the cover and I had to have the journal.  I missed my home state so much at the time.  

No one knew back in the 80's that the beautiful flower, the Columbine, would someday be linked to one of the worst school tragedies in history.  For me, at that time, the Columbine symbolized a time of innocence and of beauty as I would recall the many times I saw it growing wild in the mountain during my childhood and youth.  On the inside of this particular journal, I wrote, "Memories of Leadville, and of my youth."  In my heart, I still associate Columbines with innocence, but it is now more about lost innocence.  Yet despite the grief, shock, and pain that Columbines symbolize because of that fateful day at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado on April 20, 1999, I continue to love this flower and think of it also as a symbol of not only a day of innocence, but also as a symbol of hope for all that is good in youth.

Leadville ~ The Setting for My Youth

That Means I am a true mountain girl.  Anyone who has lived two miles high deserves that distinction.  Some of the best years of my life were lived in the shadow of Mt. Massive.  Living in Leadville, Colorado is an "On Top of the World Experience."

When I was just beginning my senior year in high school, my father moved us from the flatlands of Colorado, Pueblo, Colorado, to the rarified air of Leadville, Colorado.  I was heartbroken when he did this.  Little did I know how much Leadville would figure with such prominence when I recall the happiest times of my life.  

One of the first entries in my new journal was a recollection of my time spent as a young girl in Leadville.  I wrote:

This picture brings back memories of Leadville and the many pines out on the road toward Turquoise Lake.  It must have been February and we were decorating for a school dance - "Winter Wonderland."  We went out collecting pine branches & tumble weeds - the tumble weeds to be sprayed white and decorated with tiny lights.  We must have gone after school - it was cold! The world was white and glittery, the sky was black, clear, and starry as only a Leadville night can be.  I still remember crunchy footsteps in the snow and dragging branches and tumble weeds along the snow.  It was perfectly quiet except for this sound and the laughter from the excitement of being young and gathering natural decorations for a dance.  

I remember: the cold, my feet felt like they were frozen to the ground, the peaceful beauty that surrounded us, and the freedom of youth.  Also, I remember the power and the faith that I felt at that age.  

Nothing is more beautiful than a Colorado blue spruce being covered with soft, thumb nail size snow flakes in a light snow storm in early evening.  

February, 1963, I turned 18.  I wanted to stay there forever.  The future seemed bright.  The past was happy.  I had nothing to regret or sorrow about.  The present was perfect.  I was living in a small mountain town.  In fact, I was new in town, and everyone had been so friendly.  I was popular and had many friends who were fun and intelligent.  

The entire town was ours to roam. It had a colorful past, and it fascinated me.  There were old houses that were from the silver boom days.  Some of the sidewalks were still wooden.  The hardware shop, the barbershop, the church, the school were all functioning museums.  Up on the hills were abandoned mines.  At night we would go up there and tell ghost stories about them.  They were pretty scary too.

The scenery was out of this world...

For those of you who want to see a short video about the place that I called home, the place I love so dearly, the place that hold such wonderful memories, I have included this wonderful video.  I hope you take the time to watch it.  Enjoy.

If you ever get the chance, visit this wonderful mountain town.  You will love it.  By the way, I did work for the Chamber of Commerce in Leadville one summer while I was in college.  

Happy Mother's Day to My Mother

Happy Mother's Day to my mother.

She began life as an only child born to parents who were both 40 when she was born.

She grew up in the small mountain town of Woodland Park.

Her mother, a seamstress and a milliner made her beautiful clothes such as this hat and coat all throughout her life.

Mother with her pet hen

She had many adventures with her friends.

Mother and her friends on a camping trip

 When my mother graduated form high school, her mother made this dress and hat for the occasion.

Mother said it was made of dotted swiss.

My Mother on Graduation Day

Mother's Graduation Portrait

After my parents were married,

and after my father came home from World War II,

they bought a home in Colorado Springs.

This was my childhood home.

Easter Sunday Daddy, Mother, holding Carol Rell & Sally

Mother taught us much about life.

She taught us how to cook, clean, and sew.

She read to us.

She taught us to see the beauty of the world around us through an artist's eye

She played dolls with us, and I even remember her playing hopscotch with us.

She went fishing with our dad.

She planted gardens.

She even could help our dad remodel houses.

She was the one who did the painting because she was very particular about how a room was painted.

(She made the dress she is wearing below, and of course she made our nightgowns also.)

Mother reading to me and my sister

 My mother is a beautiful woman.

She has never lost her sense of style.

I see in the photo below that she has earrings on that she made one year.

I can faintly see the Christmas tree that she hand painted on ceramic before firing them in her little oven.

She only got more beautiful with age.

She is an expert gardener.  These blooms are nearly bigger than she is.

Mother is an artist.

Here is only one of her wonderful paintings.

It is of the Colorado Monument which you can see from her back porch.

This was my father's favorite view.  She painted this for him.

Mother continues to cook her own meals even to this day.

Six years ago, we as a family all gathered to celebrate her 90th birthday.

Here she is surrounded by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Mother is still going strong.

In the photo below, she and I are standing in a peach orchard near her home.

This photo was taken last summer when mother was 95.

She still lives on her own and is very involved in life.

Her blood pressure, pulse rate, and cholesterol are better than mine!

She will be 96 later this month.

She is a woman of great faith.

Her trust is in the Lord.

She is an inspiration to all who know her.

In the photo below, she is reading a scripture passage to her family on the occasion of her 90th birthday.

Happy Mother's Day, Mother.  

I am so blessed to have you in my life.

May - It Isn't Always Merry

May is Suicide Prevention Month. Funny how I never knew that several years ago.  I was blissfully unaware of such a month.  Perhaps, I had my head in the sand and liked it that way.  Ignorance is bliss.  Or is it? 

For seventeen years, I had lived with the fear that my daughter Julie would take her life.  Her first attempt occurred when she was just a teenager.  I armed myself with information, or so I thought.  I tried to remain vigilant.  I tried to keep the lines of communication open.  I tried to ask the hard questions when I thought she wasn't doing well emotionally.  "Julie, are you thinking of hurting yourself?"  "Are you thinking of suicide?"  "Is there anything you need to talk about?"  "How can I help you with these feelings?"  "Do you need to go to the hospital?"  "Do you promise me you will call me if you are thinking of hurting yourself?"  She would always answer with a "no" to those questions that needed a no answer.  She promised me many times she would call if she couldn't handle life.  Many times she did call.  Many times, I got her up and out the door again.  Most times, she called her sister Amy.  She was more honest with her sisters I think.

Julie, Amy, Sally Sally's birthday celebration in Denver 2005

After the recent tragic death of Junior Seau, his mother's lament, “Junior, why you never telling me you were going?” just breaks my heart.  I know exactly how she feels because that is how I felt.  "Julie, why didn't you call?"  Or perhaps, even worse, I ask myself, "Why didn't I call?"  I had been up until nearly 2:00 in the morning that day because I was not feeling well.  She had been on mind.  Later though, I kept asking myself why I didn't know.  I questioned why I wasn't given a sense of her distress.  I questioned how my daughter could take her life without having some sort of premonition on my part.  Why do we as mothers think we have those kinds of powers?  Why do we think we have that kind of control?

Julie's beautiful curls Photographed by her brother Jon

I was extremely naive for seventeen years.  Even today, if you ask me what I should have done to stop her suicide, I'm not sure I would have an answer.  And yet, on the other hand, I would say that we needed more information on how to get her the appropriate, affordable medical care that she needed for her illness.  Julie had a very good job.  She made good money.  She had health insurance.  Could she afford treatment for both her bi-polar disorder and/or her addictions to alcohol?  No, she could not.  She asked me to find a program for her.  I did.  It was an outpatient program.  She wondered how she could work and do the program.  She couldn't afford not to work.  I suggested once that she come home, seek treatment, then find a new job.  That just did not seem feasible.  I suggested she take medical leave.  She didn't seem to be able to make that leap.  Would that leave have been given by her employer?  Would she have been able to keep her job?  Would the program have been successful?  After her death, I read of a program that seemed to be just what she would have needed in Denver.  It was an inpatient program.  The cost would have been at least $25,000.  The irony of it all was that Julie had $25, 000 in life insurance, but her health insurance would not cover mental health care.


As a survivor of suicide, I now feel an urgency to make sure that there is more awareness of suicide prevention.  Did you know that I am a survivor?  Did you know that those who have lost a loved one to suicide are called survivors.  We are compared to those who have survived any other horrific life changing event.  I read the words "suicide survivor" and "death camp survivor" used in comparative ways in much of the literature.  I hope other families are spared the shock and grief that my family has suffered.  For that reason, I urge all of you to urge President Obama to make mental heath parity a reality. (Please click to read the full message.)


Basically, the  Mental Health Parity and Addiction Act would ensure that large group health insurance and Medicaid plans provide coverage for mental or substance-use disorders on par with coverage offered for physical ailments. Implementation of the final rule would make Mental Health Parity a reality.


My daughter Keicha wrote an editorial for her local newspaper urging others to contact the White House about the passage of this Act.  You can read her editorial here:  Keicha's editorial.

Mason, Grandma Sally,  Aunt Julie, Amy Julie's College Graduation BA in English

Thoughts about the month of May conjure up so many happy occasions:  Mother's Day, graduations, spring flowers, and beautiful trees leafing out.  May is also known to be the month with the highest rates of suicide.  This shocking statistic became a reality for my family on May 29th, 2010.  One of the first things I wrote in my journal after Julie's death was, "She was more that a statistic.  She was more than her final act."  I hope that you will think of her as a beautiful, bright, vivacious young woman.  I think of her as being valiant.  She fought for so many years against demons I will never know.  She also had a very serious life threatening disease which ultimately took her life.


In her memory, I hope you will also lend your voice to fight for parity in coverage for those who suffer from mental or substance-abuse, often forms of self-medicating that take on lives of their own.  Why isn't coverage for these illnesses comparable to coverage for other illnesses and/or physical ailments? 

Julie, my mother, Alberta, Keicha Lunch with Grandma around her 92rd birthday time

If I could speak to Junior Seau's mother, I would tell her, "There are no answers."  We will never have answers for why our children chose this route to end their pain.  I am greatly comforted by the words of Barbara Johnson who lost two sons in death,  In a GriefShare devotion, she wrote in to response the unanswered questions surrounding death by suicide:   That is when you have to claim Deuteronomy 29:29, 'The secret things belong to the Lord.' And this is a secret thing. No one will ever know the reason why this thing happened, this side of heaven. As I counsel many parents who have lost children to suicide, that is the hardest one to deal with. They want to blame themselves. I try to tell them that their child went out to meet a just and a loving God. And God only knows the answers. You can't blame yourself for what your kids do or grab onto guilt.


The time to address mental illness and depression issues is when one is alive.  Arm yourself with information.  Know where help is available.  Seek it, or urge those in need to seek it.  Join others in helping to bring parity to the help that is available for all those in need.  Do it in memory of Julie.  Do it the memory of those loved ones that your friends have lost to suicide.  Bring suicide out of the shadows.  Do not silence its devastation any longer.  Work to bring about awareness, help, and hope.  Do it to save even one life.  That will make all the difference in the world to that person's family.  

Siblings being silly Who has the biggest nose? Amy, Jon, Julie, Keicha, Ryan

Sister - the last time together Keicha, Julie, Amy April 2010

Decisions Have Been Made

Several years ago, in a blog post entitled  "Moments of Clarity," I wrote, "I am where I need to be in my life, and I am living in the exact right place for this time in my life."  I had experienced one of those moments where with great clarity of thought I was able to express my acceptance of my present circumstances in life while also defining my vision for my retirement years.  Resolving in my own mind a struggle over where I wanted to live, I fully embraced the idea of living in Pueblo throughout my retirement years.


I listed the affirming thoughts that came to my mind as I began to formulate my reasons for living right were I was planted for long into the future.  Each delineation added to my clarity.

• I knew the educational community.  I understood where it had been and where many hoped it was going.  I saw myself as remaining a viable part of that community.
• My husband's roots in this community run deep.  He has spent nearly his entire life here.  They even named the street in front of his high school after him when he retired.
• I had begun a garden.
• I knew and accepted the climate here - the wind, the heat, the lack of water.  I wouldn't have to rethink a garden.
•  I wouldn't have to acclimate to a new social or environmental climate.  
• I had remodeled my home and had it just as I wanted it.
• I was certain I would spend my time writing, "telling my story."

All of that was true and right at the time.  I'm glad I have that blog entry to remind me of that.

Now, much has changed.  Much of that which rang so true just a few short years ago no longer seems to apply.  Perhaps, this past five months have been defining months for the future that my husband and I hope to have together.  Life has changed our priorities.  

Since my husband's near heart attack in December, and since the fall I suffered in January, the home we have loved and worked so hard on to be the place where we would spend our retirement years suddenly seemed to no longer really fit our needs.  It is too large.  It has too many stairs.  The yard is too big.  The garden is more than we can handle.  

More than that, the setting for the story of our remaining years no longer seemed right all.  The children live too far away.  The doctors we consult are located in a town forty miles north of us.  Mostly, we realized that we needed to make some decision while we still could on where we would live that would make it easier not only on us, but also on our children.

And so, we decided to sell our dearly loved home and move to Colorado Springs.  The past few weeks have been filled with all kinds of emotions.  We have been on daily emotional roller coaster rides.  We are selling in a down market.  We are buying in a market that is much more expensive than where we live.  We could not decide exactly where to live in Colorado Springs.  I had pretty strong ideas, and of course the neighborhoods where I wanted to be were some of the most expensive with the fewest houses available.  Then, there was the decision over whether we should buy a town home, a patio home, or a 'stand alone' home.  

We actually had decided to forget the entire thing and wait a year to make any big moves until a chance phone call on Saturday.  My hair stylist in Colorado Springs called late Saturday morning to tell me she had found the house we were looking for in the exact neighborhood where I wanted to live.  By 4:00 that afternoon, we had made an offer on the house that perfectly fits what we wanted.  Our house went on the market on Monday afternoon.

Now, we just have to sell!  We can't really move without a sale on our house.  We are cautiously optimistic.  This home is a lovely family home.  I hope the right family who is looking for just the right place comes along soon.  

We are happy with our decision to move.  We know we are doing what is best for not only us, but also for our children.  One grandchild started to cry when she heard we are moving.  She said, "I love that house."  I know just how she feels.  I love this house too.  So many memories have been made here.  Another grandchild said, "But we will make new memories in a new house."  He is right.  That we will do.  

Easter 2010

May Day

Once in the merry month of May, I was in London.  

Nearly twenty years ago now, I visited England while I was taking a class to earn credit towards a degree in English.  I treasure the memories of that time and of that trip.  One event stands out in my mind, and I recall it every May Day.

My professor, and a few of my fellow students and I went to Westminster Abbey.  I was so excited just to be there.  As we walked along the path heading toward this magnificent place, a group of young girls dressed in Victorian looking costumes caught my eye.  

Then I saw a Maypole.  

My memory took me back to the days of my own childhood when we learned to dance around a Maypole in elementary school.

I could scarcely believe that I was actually in England,

walking into Westminster Abbey,

where I caught sight of that long practiced tradition 

of dancing 'round the Maypole in London on the first day of May.

Even by the time my children were in school,

I think the old traditions associated with May Day had long since ceased to be practiced in the U.S.

I remembered with great nostalgia those days when we celebrated May Day by making baskets in school for the May flowers that we would gather to place inside the baskets to leave on a neighbor's doorstep.

Somehow, it just seemed right to gather a few posies together,

even if they were only dandelions,

place them in baskets,

sneak up to the neighbor's porch,

ring the doorbell,

and then

leave the flowers before we ran to hide.

I still remember hiding behind the big lilac tree, 

where we probably got the flowers, 

while we waited to catch sight of Mr. White, 

our neighbor two doors up, 

come to the door to answer the ring.

Seeing no one there,

he stooped down

to gather up the bouquet

 to give to his ancient mother.

I hope your May Day is one that was filled with flowers, 

or perhaps you took the chance to kick up your heels a bit.

From my house to your's,

I'm sending you all a "May Basket" of flowers.

It comes with my very best wishes to you and yours.

Community ~ The Value of Social Networks

Social butterfly, was a term my family always used to describe me from my earliest days.  My earliest memories are ones of getting on my tricycle, riding around the city block on which we lived, and stopping by to visit with the neighbors.  I would visit from one house to other, collecting cookies and stories along the way.  Stories were shared with other neighbors as I worked my way around the block.  I did not know it then, but I was, at a very early age, learning about the value of social capital.  In a sense, I was using that social capital to allow information to flow, bonding to an age group that was much older than I, and establishing my identity as an individual and as a part of my community.

I remember a college textbook used while I was in college in the early '60's that spoke of the tricycle path that led to social connections between the adults in newly forming suburbs.  The paths that lead to social connections have always been interesting to me.  As one who needs community, I have certainly seen many changes in how we form and participate in social groups or community.  Even ten years ago, I never could have imagined that in my retirement years, I would become a part of a viable community that is created through the use of the internet.

I have not read the book, Bowling Alone, by Robert D. Putnam, but I am very interested in what he has to say about the value of social networks.  His basic premise is: "social capital refers to the collective value of all social networks."  He also speaks of "the inclinations that arise from the networks to do things for each other," He refers to this as "Norms of reciprocity."

Blogging and Social Capital

Blogging has created a whole new world for me.  When I first began blogging, I never could have imagined the world that such an activity would open up for me.  First of all, I just want to thank my blogging friends for being a part of my life.  Your comments have meant so much to me.  They have given me hope, courage, and comfort.  You have made me feel less alone.  You have encouraged me.  You have made me laugh.  You have given me new things to think about, and you have made me see things in new ways.  

Since January, my physical world has at times become very small.  The concussion that followed the fall I suffered on January 2nd, has resulted in lingering headaches, dizzy spells, and avoidance of many things that were very much a part of who I am and what I do.  I have not been able to drive.  I am dependent on my husband to take me where I need to go.  I am unable to participate in large social gatherings.  I have trouble in crowded or noisy places.  

Added to the challenge of recovery from a head injury, I have also been dealing with arrhythmia where at times my heart is either beating very fast, or I am suffering from palpitations, some of which are due to AFib.  It has not been a fun time lately.  I am on a new medication and wearing a heart monitor.  We shall see where this journey takes us.  

In other words, the social butterfly's wings have been clipped.  I don't know what I would do without my community of bloggers.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there, for reaching out, for caring.

A Few Highlights Since Easter

Easter Sunday, now already several weeks away and very old news, was worth noting.  Easter Day was a glorious one for me.  Early Easter morning, my husband I drove to Colorado Springs to attend church at my former home church with a dear friend of mine.  She and I have known each other since college days. We reconnected about eight years ago, and the friendship has blossomed.  I count her as one of my dearest friends, and one upon whom I can always count for a listening ear.  She is so wise, caring, and intelligent.  I always come away from our conversations and times together a much enriched person.

Linda & Sally Village Seven Presbyterian Church Easter 2012

Linda's husband is also someone I first met in college.  We had speech class together.  Linda and I went through rush together back in the day when we were 'rushed' to join a college sorority.  While we pledged to different sororities, our friendship has become one that seems like we are sisters of the heart.

Greg, Linda, Sally

After church, Linda and Greg left to have dinner with family, and Jim and I went to the Cheyenne Mountain Resort to meet my daughter Amy for brunch.  The food was plentiful and delicious.  While the day was certainly not like Easters from the past, we made the most of it and enjoyed our time together.  

Mom & Daughter

After brunch, Amy, Jim, and I made our way to the cemetery to remember our dear Julie who was born on April 8, 1976.  Amy chose tulips for Julie, and I chose some daffodils for my father's grave that is next to Julie's.  He was also an April baby.  We hugged each other and cried as we remembered the sister and daughter who always figured so largely in any of our previous Easter celebrations. Crying always is cleansing for the soul and helps in moving on in our journey of grief.  

A Special Gift from My Husband

Later in the week after Easter, my husband totally surprised me with a special gift.  He took me to dinner at a very nice new restaurant in town.  After dinner, he stood up, took something out of his pocket, and handed me this:

Yes, can you believe it?  That is a box from Tiffany's.  We had wondered into the store while we were in Salt Lake City last month.  Of course, I had to try a few things on just for fun.  He then called the store, ordered one of the rings I had admired, and had it shipped to our home without me ever even suspecting a thing.  

Our 20th anniversary is coming up in June.  He said he couldn't wait until then.  He wanted me to have a new wedding band.  It is a simple band of diamonds set in platinum.  That is exactly what I wanted; he just didn't have to go to Tiffany's to get it.  Of course,  I was thrilled that he did.  

That is a wrap-up of what has been happening around here.  I hope to get back to blogging a bit more regularly soon.  In the meantime, you all are in my thoughts, and I greatly value this community of bloggers.  My best wishes are sent out to all of you.  

Another Book Review

Home by Marilynne Robinson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This book, a companion piece to Gilead, written in the equally eloquent and poetic style of Robinson's previous book, captured my heart with the complexity of the themes developed in the telling of a story of a prodigal who comes home filled with much trepidation and perhaps a bit of hope.

While I loved this book, I loved Gilead more.  If one has read Gilead, and they should before they read this book, they will find that this book tells of Jack Boughton's experience while he was at home in Gilead after a long absence.

Many times, I found myself weeping as I read this book.  I wept because Jack felt he never had really been a part of the family.  I wept because Jack hurt so much inside that he could not accept himself or the way he had lived his life.  I wept because his family's love, a love that was deep and long lasting,  was not enough to hold keep him anchored in life.

I  admired Jack's honest questioning of life, and faith, and of grace.  I also admired his gentle nature.  His sensitive nature had been hardened and broken by life, and yet he remained at his core honest and sensitive despite his behavior that others interpreted as being dishonest and reprobate.  He found his solace in alcohol until it became the thing that also was destroying him and holding him in its grip.  He is a complex character.  One to study.  One to try and understand.  One in need of a grace which he found difficult to accept though he seemed to offer it to others at times.

The story, told through the third person voice of Jack's sister, Glory, lacked the dynamic first person voice used by Pastor Ames to tell the story of Gilead.  At times, I wished Jack were telling his own story, but then I realized the reader probably would have missed the complexity of Jack's character if he had told his own story.  Glory tried to make sense of Jack and his life and his behavior while he helped her make sense of her own life.

The themes of redemption, of grace, of loss, and of familial ties are all found in this amazing book.  Jack's father, Reverend Robert Boughton, is broken by age, arthritis, and a heart that has been heavy for much of his life for his prodigal son.

He has always taught and preached on grace, yet I thought he was really unable to accept Jack for who he really was, and was unable to extend a full measure of grace to Jack.  His treatment of Jack illustrates the complexity of praying for a prodigal while also accepting and understanding the prodigal who comes home.  It seemed it was almost impossible for the father to actually connect to Jack for who he was and for what he wanted most in life because of the father's inability to stop projecting his own interpretation to Jack's behavior and expectations onto Jack.  Reverend Boughton seems to be stuck in legalism at times, and his religion could almost be seen more as one of tradition and culture than as a belief system that is an exercise in faith based on grace.

Jack, of course, did not make it easy for his father to connect either.  There was a lifetime of misunderstanding and judgement that I felt never really was fully resolved by the father and the son.  Honesty had never been their style of relating.

Pastor Ames does not figure much in this story, but I still have the picture of him as Jack's true papa, the one who in the end was able to understand Jack and extend forgiveness and grace towards him.  Glory also extends understanding and grace towards Jack.  She seems to represent the true "glory" of the family who ministers to the prodigal while the others wish to rescue him or cause him to right his life to conform to the vision of what they want for him out of life.

Jack is an honest seeker.  One wonders if his experience at home will transform him when he leaves, or if he will continue to live a shattered life.


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Anniversaries

Julie ~ Happy Birthday 2009

The word anniversary takes on new meaning after the death of a loved one.  This coming Sunday, Easter Sunday, which falls on April 8th this year, will mark what would have been my Julie's 36th birthday.  


I have always associated her with spring, and with Easter.  Her first birthday cake was a bunny cake.  Her birthday has often fallen on, or near, Easter Day.  I realized quite some time ago that this year, her actual birthdate would fall on Easter.  


I do believe I started seeing Easter bunnies, furry Easter toys, and assorted chocolate eggs and bunnies on the shelves of the discount stores in early February.  Was Valentine's Day even over with?  An innocent walk down an aisle in WalMart caused me to let out a little cry to my husband while I said, "I have to get out of this aisle.  They already have Easter items on display."  I wondered how I would ever face Easter this year.


Two years ago, April of 2010, on that same aisle in WalMart,  my husband and I had giddily loaded up our shopping cart with enough candy to treat an entire kindergarten class or two.  We were getting ready to have Easter at our house, and we had to make sure we had enough candy.  That Easter Celebration held at our home to celebrate both Easter and Julie's birthday would be the last time I saw her alive. 

Keicha, Julie, & Amy

Easter 2010 

Needless to say, this week has been a very rough one for me and for my family.  I wasn't sure I would even decorate for Easter this year. Finally, just before we left on our Spring Break, I realized that I would feel better if I got out all those small little things that always were on display for Easter.  I needed to see those cute little bunnies after all.  


I needed to put out my collection of daffodils, my favorite flower, that has traditionally been a part of my home decor every Easter.  I needed to remember that to me the daffodil represents the resurrection.   I had daffodils carved into Julie's headstone.  I needed to celebrate the true meaning of Easter and keep hope alive in my heart.


Grief cannot be denied.  At times, it just must be expressed.  I have cried a great deal this week.  Crying is good.  It releases the sorrow that begins to weigh down the heart.  It is cleansing to cry. 


I am learning the great wisdom of these words:  Lean into the grief. You can't go around it, over it, or under it. You have to go through it to survive. It is important to face the full force of the pain. Be careful   not to get stuck at some phase. Keep working on your grief.  


These words come from a list of "Suggestions for helping yourself survive" found on the website entitled, The Fierce Goodbye, Living in the Shadow of Suicide. (click to read the entire list and find other resources.)


I have chosen to lean into my grief because I do not wish to become stuck in one phase of grief.  I am working on my grief by trying to express it in healthy ways.  I know the toll Julie's death has taken on me and on my family, but I also know that I am a survivor.  Julie would want me to remember her by living my life in the most healthy way I can.  


My plan is to celebrate Easter by going to church and remember the hope that I have because of my faith.  


I will remember my sweet baby girl's smile, the one she gave me the first time our eyes ever locked just after she was born 36 years ago.  I will remember the love she gave me and joy she brought me.  


After church, my husband and I plan on having Amy join us for brunch at the Cheyenne Mountain Resort in Colorado Springs.  


For me,  I hope anniversaries associated with Julie don't just remind me that we lost our sweet Jules, but instead, I hope to focus on remembering the beautiful life we as a family had with us for a treasured time.   Anniversaries mean that I hope we will remember to keep on living, and loving, and laughing,  and celebrating the lives of those who remain as we create new memories to treasure.  

Spring Break

Who knew that even retired people need a break?

As a former teacher and a former principal, my hubby and I always looked forward to spring break which has always been held the last week of March in our school district.

I guess those dates are burned in our brains because we decided that it was time for us to take a break.

We sent Boston to the kennel.

We packed up the car.

We headed out of town.

We have spent the last four days with family in Utah.

It has been glorious to be with them again.

Pictures and details will come later.

Now, we are relaxing in the beautiful town of Springdale, Utah.

Springdale, UT from Google maps

We will spend the next few days touring Zion's National Park.

I am hoping for some much needed time of rest, relaxation, and restoration.

I will catch up with all my blogging friends when I get home next week.

I hope the sun is shining wherever you are, and that you are enjoying some beautiful spring weather.