Category Archives: Gratitude
Finding Unexpected Gifts in Grief
With Christmas and the traditional gift giving a few days away, my thoughts this morning went to unexpected gifts. I have received several over the last month, a month that also brought an equal share of unexpected happenings that would not be classified as gifts.
My sister, Sandy, passed away just before midnight on Wednesday, November 27, 2024, the night before Thanksgiving leaving me sans parents and siblings. Though she had struggled with diabetic complications for years, her death was unexpected. She chose palliative care and given her end stage kidney failure the doctors indicated patients with her condition usually passed away within seven to 14 days.
We moved her to the local hospice facility Wednesday afternoon with that expectation. Thus, my shock and grief when Sandy died within ten hours. Her death was one of life’s both/and occurrences – feeling both the grief of her loss, and thankful she was no longer in pain. That’s a hard one to wrap your head and heart around. I suppose I could claim an unexpected gift in that she did not linger in the throes of renal failure symptoms. Perhaps that is a bit trite, but that is often what we do to stem the tide of grief, at least momentarily.
A truly unexpected gift was the portrait that a friend drew and sent to me. Opening the large envelope that arrived in the mail, I was overwhelmed with awe, gratitude, and grief. The portrait of Sandy was beautiful. The likeness stunning. My friend’s kindness and thoughtfulness heartwarming. I framed it and displayed it at Sandy’s Celebration of Life. An unexpected gift, most definitely, and a treasure – both friend and portrait — to be cherished.
Dare I mention the car accident I had two days before Sandy’s memorial. Certainly, an unexpected event as no one intends or expects a car wreak. Lou Anne, my wife, relates a family story in which the police officer told her daughter, “That’s why they are called accidents.” On the upside, neither I nor the other party were seriously injured nor was anyone issued a traffic citation.
However, my car sustained major damage with the cost of repairs surpassing its value – a 17-year old model with 180,000 + miles on it. The unexpected gift being that I managed to sell it rather quickly for salvage, and I now have a newer car with needed safety features. Perhaps the greatest unexpected gift in this situation was a good dose of reality regarding my peripheral vision limitations. Safety features notwithstanding, I must be more cautious.
I sat in the church pew holding the memorial bulletin and still feeling the emotional and physical impact of the accident. Opening the bulletin, my heart clutched in wonder and tears filled my eyes as I read and heard the opening notes of “The Anchor Holds,” one of my favorites. I now know that it was one of Sandy’s as well. Though not familiar with the closing song, “Scars in Heaven,” it was very moving and comforting given Sandy’s multiple scars from surgeries/amputations as well as ample emotional hurts. The large crowd, kind words, and several funny “Sandy Stories” were expected. These songs were unexpected gifts.
Yesterday, finally getting around to a bit of Christmas shopping, I stood in a long checkout line. I was stunned, overwhelmed by the likeness. From the back, the woman in front of me looked just like my sister. The similarity – her hair, her stout build, her stance – was uncanny. Tears filled my eyes as they often have during the last weeks with any thought or mention of Sandy.
I asked Lou Anne if she saw the resemblance. Yes, she had already noticed it. I watched the woman, trying to keep my emotions in check, as we moved forward in the line. She walked out of the store in front of us, again, her walk was so like my sister’s. Hesitant at first, but yielding to the longing, I caught up with her and told her how much she reminded me of my sister who passed away a couple of weeks ago.
Tears were welling in my eyes. She was kind, gracious, and said, “You need a hug.” I responded, “Yes, I do.” She gave me a warm, long hug. With my arms around her, I was hugging my dear sister, Sandy. How often after the death of a loved one do we long for one more hug or one more day? Well, I got the hug — an unexpected gift! I am thankful to Patty of Mineola for my one more hug from Sandy.
In this season of gift giving — and throughout the New Year — as we observe and celebrate the gift of Jesus, may we pay more attention to and celebrate the large and small, unexpected gifts in our daily lives.
Detours, Doubts, and Destinations
On Saturday, October 7, 2023, we left our campground in Fancy Gap, VA heading south on the Blue Ridge Parkway through the Appalachian Mountains destined for Stone Mountain State Park just across the state line in North Carolina. We anticipated an approximate 45-minute drive followed by some fun hiking. We noted the expansive vista at Piedmont Overlook and commented on the numerous residences and rolling hills of perfectly aligned rows of very green bushes. Only later did we surmise that they were Christmas trees! We questioned the origins of flawless green meadows, aka balds, along the ridgeline some dotted with brown rolls of hay. Were the balds natural or had they been cleared? Perhaps a combination of both.
These sights were different from our earlier drives along the southern parkway near Asheville, NC where there were no residences in sight nor open meadows as we drove through densely forested slopes rising high on one side and plunging steeply on the other.
We were making good progress, and all was going well until we saw the sign, “Road Closed Ahead,” an ample warning for the upcoming barricade and huge “Detour” sign both decked out in bold highway orange. We followed the detour signs even as we sensed they were taking us back north instead of our intended south. Initially, the signs were clearly marked “Blue Ridge Detour South.” We entered a small town and passed a sign that simply read “Detour.” We began to doubt that decision, turned around and followed the sign driving into a residential area which seemed odd for a highway detour.
Shortly, we saw one of those portable, flashing, marque highway signs declaring “Blue Ridge Detour, No Thru Traffic” which seemed contrary to the nature of a detour. We passed it, doubted our decision because I had seen an orange sign just beyond the directed turn. We turned around, made the right as indicated and within a block saw the orange sign detouring us back to the left. At that point we encountered an open gate – “Detour” sign on one side, “Local Use Only” on the other — and drove into a pumpkin patch. Hummm??
The road through the huge pumpkin field appeared to be relatively new white shale and gravel. We surmised that the highway department must have made this improvement for the detour as the other roads weaving through the pumpkin path were rutted dirt. We also saw a gray car moving ahead and below us through the terraced pumpkins which buoyed our optimism that we were on the right road. We were in awe of the pumpkin patch. As far as we could see were green vines dotted with various sizes of orange and occasionally green pumpkins. I must confess that I secretly desired to stop and pick a pumpkin but ultimately decided that would not be a wise thing to do. Ominously, the road narrowed, and we met the gray car coming back out. Not a good sign!! Momentarily, we too encountered the machinery and barricade, “Road Closed.”
Back we went through the pumpkins to the flashing detour sign to discover that it read, “Blue Ridge Detour Ahead.” Sure enough, a couple of miles farther was yet another detour sign, again not indicating “Blue Ridge,” that took us down a winding country road. The next sign of note was “Pavement Ends Ahead” which indeed it did, leaving us driving on a narrow gravel road at times passing through trees just wide enough for the car and boasting a steep drop off to the left and a densely forested mountain side to the right. Just a bit spooky!
Already weary of the detours and the doubting, I had entered Stone Mountain into our GPS. We reached an intersection with a paved road where the GPS indicated a right turn. In the middle of the intersection turning around was the little gray car of the pumpkin patch. A barricade blocked the right turn! We spoke to the car’s lone occupant, and she, like us, was baffled and frustrated. Her comment, “Would you believe I just drove through a pumpkin patch.” We all chuckled as we shared that we had done the same. She was from Belgium and was trying to get to Asheville. The country roads and directions were foreign and confusing to us, we could only imagine her experience of them. We wished her well as she decided to turn around and go back. We chose to turn left and let the GPS recalculate a route to Stone Mountain.
A 45-minute drive became two hours. Ultimately, Stone Mountain was well worth the extended trip. Stone Mountain itself was majestic and naturally beautiful. Unmarred by any elaborate carvings as seen on the perhaps better known Stone Mountain outside of Atlanta, GA. The hiking trails offered solace and some solitude. The water music, tumbling and gurgling over the creek bed rocks or gushing as it rushed over the various falls at heights of two to twelve to 200 feet, was soothing and calming in its sparkling clarity and consistency. A special delight was hearing the trees sing as they swayed and hummed in the wind. All thoughts of the detours and doubts vanished under the serene canopy of the forest.
Stone Mountain Falls Trail. Stone Mountain Falls. Widow Creek Falls.
When Experiencing A Mental Health Crisis
The shiny, new fan spun silently overhead while the rusty, old box fan roared at my back. helping to moderate the rising Texas summer heat and oppressive humidity. From the porch I watched the muddy waters of the bayou slowly nudge their way downstream, a testament to both the recent rains and the long-term drought conditions. The family river house was again my place of respite, reflection, and renewal. I wrote:
My mental health professional speaks in terms of a “reset” or “reboot.” In other words, “Let’s turn it off and in a bit, turn it back on and see what happens.”
Limping Along on Faith
We pulled our little travel trailer from storage and headed out for a four-week road trip.
After 10 months of no travel, we embarked on an approximately 3,000-mile road trip with planned stops throughout the southeast. Preparation required some seemingly minor maintenance and repair for both the trailer and our towing vehicle.
What’s Wrong with My Watch? It’s Dark in Here!
Throughout the first half of my life, I was told, and rightly so, that I was “much too serious.” During the latter half of this life, I have thankfully “lightened up” and learned that a good sense of humor is essential to maintaining a healthy balance in all of life’s complexities. It is also helpful if that humor is aptly targeted toward oneself when as we navigate all the silly, inane, and ridiculous things we often do or say. So I offer here a good laugh and a moment of gratitude — both on me.
I awoke in the late night or possibly the wee early morning hours. Actually, I don’t know that I had yet managed a genuine sleep. What time is it? I threw my wrist across my face expecting an answer from the lighted watch face. Nothing! Black dark! What’s wrong with my watch? I tapped, swiped, and punched the button – still nothing. Is my phone working? Maybe the two had mystically, mysteriously, magically managed to un-Bluetooth themselves. Reaching for the phone on the bedside table, I repeated the tap, swipe, punch routine. Again, utter black! Mumm! It is darker than usual in here. I wonder if the power is off? But the power being off would not affect my phone or watch. So, just what is wrong with my watch, and what time is it?
Falling back on my pillow in confusion and growing frustration, I threw my forearm across my face. What’s that? Oh, my! I have my eye mask on! No wonder it is so dark in here. Pushing the mask up, and again throwing my wrist across my face, my watch glows brightly. The phone is working as well, but I don’t remember what time it was. Ha! Yes, it is true!
So, what’s my takeaway from this midnight escapade other than a good laugh on myself. First, upon waking or near waking from a sound or near sound sleep, one’s mind – mine at least – is apt to be muddled and lack clarity regarding one’s current location and/or condition. In my case, perhaps even more muddled than it is routinely. Second, upon rousing, I might want to allow a few moments to orient myself before engaging in any earnest thought or movement. Finally, yippee! After several months of trying numerous patches, guards, and eye masks, I have devised something that is undoubtedly comfortable – I can’t tell it is there – and protects my eyeballs.
After a couple of eye operations in the last few months, the need is not about blocking the light, but protecting the eye from pressure while sleeping. I have discovered that I often sleep on my face, and the resulting pressure on my eyeballs feels like a boatload of gravel in them the next morning. Not a good thing! A regular eye mask doesn’t provide the protection from pressure. The guards provided by the surgeons after the operations offer protection, but the globs of tape on my face is a sticky wicket.
So, when nothing is working – create what you need. Using a discarded face mask – there are plenty around the house after Covid – and the surgical eye guards, I have been successful in creating a workable solution. So successful in fact, that I couldn’t even feel it on my face!! I got a good laugh and a real moment of gratitude!!
Pilgrim Seeker Heretic 