A summer evening
For the first time in weeks, it's cool enough to sit on the patio this evening. We've had mid-to-late summer weather in early summer, weeks of temperatures in the high 90s and not enough breeze to temper the effect. It rained a little bit about an hour ago, and then the sky cleared, but now it looks like there is another round of rain moving in, maybe even some thunder. But the temperature is mild, and there is a breeze, and so it is very pleasant.
My dear friend Georgia is celebrating her birthday today. She doesn't list the year of her birth on her Facebook page, so maybe she's trying to keep quiet about it. Let me just say that the traditional college age kids that I went to school with 10 years ago are passing a major milestone for them this year, one of those with a zero on the end. And strangely, although I started out more then 30 years older than them to begin with, their passing this milestone makes me feel old! They've been my "kids," and now they won't be kids anymore!
I had another strange experience a few days ago; I found my name on a book that is listed on Amazon.com! I have yet to see the book itself because it hasn't been printed yet, but the cover was designed, and it is listed on Amazon. I knew I had done the research and written the basic draft, and that the plan was for it to be a book. I have a co-author, and she took my draft and turned it into the final book. I guess I haven't really believed it was going to happen, but if it's listed on Amazon, it must be real! Check it out -
This book is one I did under contract for my employer, the Central Arkansas Library System, in celebration of their 100th anniversary. Perhaps seeing this happen will give me the motivation I need to get back to work on my own research interests. There is a book there that I've made a beginning on, the story of a group of people who left Germany in 1833 with the intention of forming a "New Germany" in Arkansas! I have some unique material that will tell the story well, and if I don't do it, it will get lost and not get done.
My first step is to finish transcribing a set of letters written in 1833-1836 by one of the members of the emigrant group. I used them as a source in writing my thesis, and translated small pieces of them. But the whole collection needs to be translated and annotated and published. So now I've put it out there as a worthy goal. If you read this, check with me in three months or six months and ask me about my progress!
The second round of rain has started, and it is getting too dark on the patio to really see what I'm doing. It's time to say Auf-Wiedersehen!
Easter evening
It was a pretty day today, and it was a good day. It started for me with a sunrise service on the parking lot of the former K-Mart at University and Asher. The location was chosen because my church, Mosaic Church of Central Arkansas, has an option to buy the property and hopes to soon complete the purchase and move there (from the former Wal Mart across the street, where we now rent space!). We talked this morning of the hope to be meeting in that building next Easter as our church home.
The morning included a breakfast at church, a worship celebration and then a service project helping to staff a market where the children at church can spend the "Bucks" they earn as incentives in their classes. The afternoon was filled with visiting, dinner with one friend and her parents (thanks, L.C.!), followed by a visit to the wonderful new home of some other friends. All in all, I got lots of hugs and lots of Easter greetings - a good day. Hope I shed as much joy and light into other people's lives as they did into mine.
It was also a pretty day to be driving around town because almost everything is blooming now. It is nearly the peak, if not a little past, for the dogwoods and red buds, and I saw some iris today and a few azaleas. It is almost more color than I can take in at one time. Because the crape myrtle starts blooming before the azaleas are totally gone, there will be lots of color from now until October.
This is my first spring in my condo, so I'm learning how the view changes with the seasons. I live right on the Arkansas River and have enjoyed views of the boats coming and going during the leaf-off season. I think I will hear them more than see them once the trees on the river bank have fully leafed out. Even so, it is a great view. It is always a refreshment and an inspiration to watch the changes that come in the springtime, as trees and bushes and plants that looked dead during the winter show new life and beautiful color.
I don't believe that this side of the grave my own body will experience that kind of renewal, but I know that on the other side of the grave, it will. And in the here and now, I experience it in my spirit, times of refreshing following times of sadness, times of hope following confusion. My hope today is that I will live in that newness of life and spread it out to those around me.
The months ahead
A friend on Facebook asked for thoughts on Christmas to help her prepare for a talk. This is what I wrote.
The times that have been especially meaningful were those with very little commmotion around them, little shopping, no big meals, not a lot of people around -
One was the time we were with David's elderly parents on what proved to be their last Christmas with us, mom with Alzheimer's, dad with a broken hip. I realized how important it was to still "do Christmas" and to share with them to the extent that they could. Doing that was simple and quiet and relieved the stress for us, plus it created precious memories, of mom helping with the dishes and, in the manner of people with Alzheimer's, being able to answer questions about what Christmas was like when she was young when she couldn't remember who we were.
And two of the Christmases since David died when, rather than traveling to be with my family, I chose to stay home so that I could focus more on the spiritual meaning.
The first time it was to have what I knew would be the last Christmas in the house that David and I had shared. It was both remembering and honoring him and our life together, and acknowledging that "Christmas" hadn't died for me when he did. The reality of God in my life was perhaps even more important to focus on.
The second time was last year, when I was first committed to a new church community, and it was important to share the spiritual experience of Christmas with my spiritual family. I will do that again this year, stay in Little Rock until after the celebrations at my church, and then travel to see my family.
Am I a grown up now?
I made a big commitment today, and it's the first time I've made a commitment like this on my own. Well, I had a lot of encouragement and advice, but the decision was mine, and the responsibility is mine. I bought a condo. So it makes me feel like a grown up! And it changes the way I look at so many things!
I have a sense of coming home. I know, there is a lot to do between now and when I am actually at home in my new home. But having made the decision to buy and to fix it to suit me and to choose it because it has so many things that are important to me, that feels like coming home. And having a place I own, that I could stay in the rest of my life if I wanted to, that feels good - safe, at home.
I am looking forward to having an outside door that goes to space that is just mine (and that doesn't have a wisteria vine threatening to grab me when I go out!). I am looking forward to having an extra room and to being on the first floor so that my mother (and others!) can come to visit. I am looking forward to having the swimming pool and clubhouse right outside my apartment - and I may actually get moved in while it is still warm enough to use the pool!
Driving around this evening after I got off work I noticed some things that are different. For most of the time that I have been living in Little Rock, two years now, I have been thinking about this apartment as being a stop off to some place I owned or to some place that I rented that had a few things I miss here. And a part of me was always looking for that other place. I would drive around looking at for sale signs and analyzing parts of town and checking out apartments to see what kind of a balcony or patio they actually have. This evening I had to keep reminding myself that I don't have to do that anymore! And I won't be living with one foot in this place and another foot taking a step toward the next place.
I will miss some things about this place. The view out the front windows is great, and a lot different from what I will have at my new place. It is a city street of houses where I can watch people walking by and neighbors working in their yards and fire engines and buses going by. The new view will be of the Arkansas River - not too shabby, I know, but not so much of people as here, and that I will miss.
And I will miss a couple of the neighbors here who have become friends, ones I could count on to keep an eye on things, to notice if they didn't see my car move or hear me moving around, and who would check on me. These people will stay my friends, but having the kind of neighbors who know your routine and look after you, that will take a while at the new place.
I have had a sense of God's hand in the choices I've made since I've been alone. Part of my restlessness about the housing situation was wondering if the little cottage community I envisioned 3 years ago, the first summer I was a widow, was actually what He was leading me toward. I have to admit, that thought was exciting, but also a little scary. Maybe part of the way I feel right now is relief that I am not being asked to make that dramatic of a commitment. Still, that could be the case at some point, but if so, it will take a little different shape than my earlier vision.
I do know that my home, my space, isn't just mine, that it is to be open and to be shared. I did that a little bit here, and I hope to do it even more at my new home. I am very grateful to have what I have, enough and some to share.
The coming and going of Paka the Cat
I haven't owned a cat since my 34-year old son was about 8 or 10, except for cats that hung out in the barn at our house in the country and kept the mice away. Because I was seldom diligent enough to keep the box clean, prompting the inevitable response from the cats, who won't go to a smelly box, I had sworn off indoor cats. Until this winter, when I became foster mother to an 11 year old tabby.
Paka came to live with me about January 20, when his owner left for an extended stay in Barcelona. He was an indoor cat, and I quickly learned that I had to take responsibility for his needs. If he was hungry, he told me so, sometimes at 5:30 in the morning! If his box wasn't clean, he used whatever was handy, mostly piles of clothes that were waiting for the laundry. So I adjusted, or should I say, Paka trained me.
After living alone for over two years, it was nice to have another body in the house. Somehow it seemed less strange to talk to the cat than it would have to talk out loud to myself. I quickly saw that just verbalizing everyday things, like "Guess I really should wash those dishes," or "Wonder if there's a good movie to watch," gave me a lighter spirit and made me feel less lonely.
One sign of how much I enjoyed having him here was the number of pictures I took. You can see some of them on my picasa page (http://picasaweb.google.com/Avillapictures), but that's only part of them. I got used to seeing him walk out into the hall when I came in the door, and I knew that putting out food for him had to be high on the list of things I did when I got home.
There were rules, and he was pretty good at following them, when reminded, that is. He wasn't allowed on the pillow area of my bed, and when I said, no, he generally backed away. But he would often walk down around my feet and up the bed behind my back, thinking he could sneak in that way. In the last month or so, he had started doing that early in the mornings; he would walk over the pillow above my head and then peek around my folded arm and get right in my face to see if I was awake. And if I was, he would nudge my wrist to persuade me to bring my hand from under the pillow to pet him.
Of course he wanted to be on my desk or in my lap when I was working at the computer, which didn't really work. If I scooted back enough to make room for him, I couldn't see the screen. I had tried a few times at first to get him to go after the mouse because I thought it would be a funny picture, but he didn't seem interested. A few weeks ago, however, he had taken to sitting down on my desk just above the tray where my laptop and mouse are, and batting at my hand and the mouse. Lots of things popped up on the screen in response to his "clicking."
Paka is gone now. Sadly, it isn't because his person came back from her travels. Last week on Tuesday he stopped eating, and on Wednesday he paid no attention to the can of food I opened for him, or to the bowl of water. After a bit, all he was doing was laying down and apparently sleeping. Every once in a while he would get up and move across the room, and then lay down again. I thought of my mother-in-law in her last days, what the doctors described as "failure to thrive." She simply lost interest in everything that had to do with living, and soon slipped away.
On Thursday, I sent a note to his owner, knowing that she seldom reads email. I wasn't in a position to pay for the vet myself, but I would have if I thought she would want me to; I simply didn't know. I sent a copy of the message to her brother, and thankfully he and his mother made the decision for me.
Friday morning I took Paka to their vet. I said, "If he recovers, call me, and I'll come back and get him." But the young man answered, "I don't think he will." I learned from Ryan later in the day that Paka had a severe case of diabetes, and that his systems had started to shut down. Ryan and his mother made the decision to have him put down, and Ryan planned to take him to their house so they could bury him.
I always knew he would be here temporarily, and in any case, I didn't consider myself a cat person. I wasn't sure I wanted a cat on a long term basis. But I miss him. It's a lot different to have him leave in this way than to have Lynn simply come back and get him and take him with her when she moves across the country in the fall. All of the paraphernalia is still here, and I am reluctant to get rid of it, even the large cardboard box I used in the bathroom to keep the litter box out of sight.
I think about what I have learned from this. I learned that a pet can be fun, and can be good company and relieve loneliness. I learned that I am perhaps more of a cat person than I used to be, more inclined to be gentle, even when he got in the way of my work or wanted to sit right in the middle of the newspaper I was trying to read.
But I also learned that having a pet is a responsibility, financially and emotionally. Barn cats will take care of themselves, but house pets need consistent attention and care, including medical care. Right now that's a commitment I'm not sure I can make.
I am sad that Paka is gone, and I know it will take me a while before I stop looking behind my desk chair to be sure his tail isn't in the way before I roll back. Mostly, I am grateful that Paka was here for the time he was.
Christmas this year
I have a Christmas tree up - a few modest decorations on the mantel (or is it mantle?). My neighbor Frances came over to help, and she put the lights on the tree, which I very much appreciate. That was always David's task. He put on the lights, and I put on the decorations. This is the first "real" tree in this apartment. I lived here last year, but only put up a small paper tree with paper decorations. Nice, and enough because I was traveling on the holiday itself, but not the way of Christmases past. This year it was important to me that I reconnect with the past traditions, even though I am alone here in this apartment.
I have chosen to stay in Little Rock for the holiday. One reason is that I have a new church family this year, and I want to share Christmas with them. Behind all the lights of the season, for me, is the spiritual reality of the Light of God coming into the world, and I want to share that with my spiritual family.
The other reason I decided to stay in my home and practice Christmas traditions is to affirm, as my pastor said this morning, that as long as I'm breathing, God has a purpose for me. It's a purpose, I believe, that is built on all that I have experienced and all that I shared with David. It is important, and it is a way of honoring David, that I live out that purpose in my home and my community. What was important and special about the holidays didn't die or go out of my life when David died.
A few months after David died, I spoke on campus at UALR with a wonderful woman who was one of my favorite professors and who had lost her husband a few years before. Her words have stayed with me; one way that we honor those who have left us is that "We keep on being the person they loved." I see the choices I have made for this holiday season as a way of doing that.
Blessings to all of you.
Can you see it? Can you hear it?
My friend Linda visited Kuekenhof Gardens in Amsterdam with her daughter Mollie a few months ago. Mollie was a little surprised when Linda stopped by this piece of sculpture, and said, I have to take a picture of this for Shirley! And I'm so glad she did!
I wanted to share it with you and see if you - those of you who knew David - can see what I see. Can you see him sitting in this chair? And can you hear him laughing, and going, How neat! I think we would have had to camp out in those gardens if we had been there in person! For sure, if he were still living, I would be showing this picture around to find someone who could reproduce it for him as a gift.
For now, I have a copy of it by my work station, and when I look at it, it gives me a little sense of his presence. I hope I never loose that sound of his laughter in my memory! It is a gift.
And now it comes at a good time for me. This summer is truly the season when I am living out the title of this blog, Neuer Gedankengang, or new paths for my thoughts. It is a season of adjusting, perhaps in ways I hadn't done before, to David not being here, to my being alone.
Of course in so many ways I'm not alone, and I'm truly grateful for that - for the friends I have around me, for a job I enjoy and people who are fun to work with, for family that may be far away in miles, but as close as email or my cell phone (or a plane to take me to Dublin!), and of course for a church where folks demonstrate for me what it means to be part of the family of God.
Still, there is this huge gap, and as I look back over the last two years, I know that I have resisted really accepting that gap. It was almost as if I believed that if I said loud enough and often enough, But I don't WANT to be alone!, that the clock would turn back, and I wouldn't be alone. I really know that it is time to move past that.
I don't think that means that the gap will go away, but that the energy I have used fighting it will be used in different ways. Instead of sliding more deeply into the gloomy mood, I already feel a lighter spirit and a sense of purpose. This is of course somewhat bittersweet - I feel the sadness, and I don't fight it. But little by little, a step at a time, I'm incorporating that into who I am. I believe that is a good thing - I believe it is creative and part of God's plan to shape me and my life.
Many people are coming alongside me right now to help me make better choices day by day, choices that will improve my health and enrich my life. I am very grateful for those people and for their love for me. And in a funny way, as I imagine David sitting like a big old bird, as Lynda Pruitt would say, in that kangaroo chair and laughing, I experience that also as encouragement.
I will share one more thing with you - a poem that I wrote a few months ago. I sent it to people on my email list, so you may have already seen it. It really helped to start this transition process for me. You may find that it will remind you to never fail to speak of your love to those close to you.
Unfinished Conversations
The phone always rang in the middle of the afternoon.
The conversation would be short.
“How’s your day been going?”
“Oh, pretty good” or “okay, I guess.”
He talked about his clients,
Who were both funny and frustrating.
He talked about some dumb thing the dispatcher had done.
“Do you want me to stop at Dinner’s Ready
and get supper?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Okay, I love you, good-bye.”
Sometimes one of us would call the other
With news that wouldn’t wait until the end of the day.
“Guess what, you’re not going to believe this."
“Why? What happened?”
“I ran into so-and-so, and now I know WHY!”
After the juicy bit of information was met
with the expected shock and surprise,
“Well, I have to go back to work,
I just wanted to tell you before I forgot.”
“Okay, I love you, good-bye.”
The days and weeks were filled - with tests,
with waiting for doctors, with asking one more time
for help with his bath.
At the end there was only the drugged sleep.
The time was so short, and
so much was in the way.
I know he would have said to me,
“I’m going home, you know.”
And I would have said,
“Okay, I love you, good-bye.”
For David
Shirley Schuette
April 20, 2008
