Appreciating Every Moment

Today marks the four-month anniversary of my dad's death, last December 2016. Although I know my dad will always be with me and a part of who I am, I still miss his physical presence. I miss his smile. I miss his voice. I miss hearing him sing. I miss dancing with him. Yet, I am grateful for the time we did have together and how much he loved me.

Yesterday marks the six-year anniversary of the day my life began anew. It was April 28, 2011, that I underwent what was to become the first of two surgeries to remove my thyroid. A week following the initial surgery, I learned one of the growths that had been removed was cancerous necessitating, at least in my surgeon's and doctor's opinions, the need to remove my entire thyroid. I was/am fortunate. While I have to take medication daily to replace the hormone my body requires but no longer produces on its own without the thyroid, I am healthy and continue to enjoy my life as I did before the surgery, only with a greater appreciation.

The past six years of my life have not been without challenges, no life is. I've experienced what has sometimes felt like more than my share of disappointments, setbacks, and heartbreaks, but I've also had many amazing experiences. For instance, witnessing my niece and nephew graduate from high school and head to college in the same year, dancing in my first national ballroom competition, winning first-place honors at a national ballroom competition, attending the White House Christmas tour for the first time, taking horseback riding lessons, and being treated to a trip to the lake for my birthday. And I know that many more wonderful adventures await me.

So, today I am choosing to celebrate my life and all that I am grateful for. I am profoundly grateful for this day. I am grateful that I am alive to experience all the wonder and majesty and beauty of this earth and universe. I am grateful that I am now strong and healthy, and getting stronger and healthier every day. I am grateful for my family. I am grateful for friends. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to spend this evening with friends I haven't seen in a while, sharing a meal and much laughter, simply enjoying each other's presence as we celebrated one of our friend's birthing a new person into this world.

Life is a precious gift—the best one you'll ever get. Cherish every moment of it.

Touching the Face of God

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When I was a child, before the days of 24/7 television across 120-plus stations, television stations featured sign-offs to indicate they were going off air for a few hours, usually in the wee hours of the morning between 2 to 4 a.m. Each station’s sign-off was different, but there was one that seemed to really fascinate me as I watched it during those early mornings when I was up long, long past bedtime because I just couldn’t sleep. (And yes, I had a TV in my room. Blame my parents, why don’t you?!)

I remember the sign-off featured images of airplanes soaring through the clouds, and a man’s voice that always sounded so soothing as he spoke of "dancing in the sky" and "touching the face of God." Sometimes the airplane images were replaced with images of eagles flying across the expanse of sky or an ocean. Ever so high, I recall watching them climb, wishing I could be, feel that free.

The past few months of life have been quite challenging for me dealing with personal, financial and family health issues. As I’ve mentioned a few times in my posts, I share caregiving duties for my parents with my siblings. I’ve been doing this since 2010 when my mom had her first seizure. Three years later, we were having to care for dad also. In the midst of all of this, I experienced my own health crisis and financial loss resulting from being fired from a job that I really enjoyed. Life really is grand, isn’t it? (No, I’m not being sarcastic, much!)

Yesterday I felt that I was near to reaching the breaking point. There was something I wanted, needed to accomplish, yet despite my best efforts I was getting it done--something my Virgo mind just can’t easily handle. As I began feeling the despair and discouragement, tears streaming down my face, I headed outside with my trusty journal in hand to help sort through my feelings. In nature is where I thrive. In nature is where I find peace.

Sitting on the back porch of my parents’ home, I started journaling, and then suddenly stopped to just look up at the sky. The great expanse of blue sky was filled with amazingly beautiful white and soft gray clouds. I felt calm and at peace as I stared off into the distance as far as I could see. I noticed a plane fly by and the usual birds. Breathtaking. I have a deep appreciation for art, and yet don’t believe there is any artist living or dead who could adequately capture the beauty of what I was seeing, experiencing looking up into that sky. It felt like I was seeing something painted made by the very hand of God, which brings me back to the TV sign-offs I mentioned at the beginning of my post.

I sat still for a while, staring into those clouds in front of me, above me, around me, trying to breathe myself into them, make myself one with all that surrounded me when I suddenly remembered the TV sign off from my childhood, the one with man’s voice talking about touching the face of God.

Information addict that I am I decided to search the Internet for that sign off, or the poem, as I was sure it was most likely a poem the man was reading. It was. The poem is High Flight, written by John Gillespie Magee Jr., a 19-year old aviator pilot. He wrote the poem just three months before he died during a training flight from the airfield near Scopwick. Portions of the poem are inscribed on the headstones of many aviators and astronauts buried in Arlington National Cemetery.*

I cried as I read the full poem and understood why the man’s words had so touched me at such a young age that many years later I’m still able to remember those images that flashed across my TV screen and even hear some of the words spoken. I had a rather vivid imagination as a child, still do, and would dream of doing and being pretty much anything. I was a ballerina, and a princess, a rock star, and a cowgirl (not the cheerleader variety). Once I dreamed about walking on the moon and even imagined I was one of the officers on Star Trek (don't ask), not understanding the whole TV isn't real thing. At least not then—no reality television, yet, thank goodness!

I was learning then as I’m still now learning that life offers infinite possibilities for us beyond what we are experiencing in the moment and beyond what we can imagine or dream, if only we could believe that it does. And just like Officer Magee, we, too, can touch the face of God.

Here's the poem for you to read, or you can experience it the way I did as a child.

High Flight 

By John Gillespie Magee Jr.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds, -- and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of -- Wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air...

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue

I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace

Where never lark or even eagle flew --

And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod

The high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

* Source: http://www.arlingtoncemetery.net/

On This Memorial Day

"Memories, memories,

Sweet, sweet memories.

That make me sad.

They take me back

To you."

Memories by The Temptations

Motown © 1975

The first time I remember hearing this song was just a few months after my little brother Stephen died. He was only four. It would be about 15 years or so before I could listen to this song without crying. (Although, I still cry occasionally when hearing it.) That was a dark, painful time in my family's life and the first time I had experienced the death of a loved one. I still remember as if it were yesterday: My father saying that Stephen would not be coming home from the hospital "this time"; all the people stopping by our house to drop off food; me and my younger sister being swept away to our Godsister's home; hearing my mother scream, and then watching her collapse to the sidewalk as we approached the front door of the funeral home where my brother's wake was held. I also recall seeing my father cry for the first time. A tall, imposing, and somewhat fearsome looking man—at least to me at age nine—he approached the church podium during the funeral to speak, but broke down in heaving sobs instead.

I was an adult before I could think about my brother without tears. But it was a relief to finally be able to smile, and even laugh, when remembering our brief time together: Our first trip to Disney World; helping him ride his Big Wheel; the way he laughed every time the Pappy Parker Fried Chicken commercial came on TV; getting in trouble for using our beds as trampolines; getting in serious trouble when he decided to pour talcum powder all over my parents' bedroom.

It's been many years ago since my brother died. I still miss him and think about him often as I do the many others I've mourned since. Overcoming grief due to the death of a loved one is not an easy process no matter how many times you've experienced it. It's not even something that God intended for man to endure. (Death was not part of His original plan. He's calls it an enemy, which is why Jesus wept at Lazarus' tomb.) Still, with God's grace and the support of friends and other family members, we get through it. And in time, we even come to cherish our memories of times spent together knowing that in some way our loved ones are still with us.

"...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." - Psalm 30:5

For the Price of a Cup of Coffee

I'm starting to feel a bit like the weather girl, but it was crazy cold today. I've never been really tolerant of the cold, but since having my thyroid removed… let's just say I was extremely grateful for the milder than usual winter. And the warm spell that we'd been having the past couple of weeks truly had me spoiled.

While I've grown accustomed to the subzero temp in my office (or have at least reached a point of acceptance), the mini-breaks out of doors to warm up—as well as clear my head—were becoming a welcomed escape. But the outdoors offered no such escape today. After my morning meeting, I practically ran out to the courtyard only to discover how very deceptive sunlight can be. For about three minutes, I sat directly in the sunlight trying to soak up a little bit of warmth before deciding it just was not meant to be, so I walked the extra few feet to the campus Starbucks for something hot.

Turns out it was warm inside the conference center. Get something hot; sprint back to my office. That was the plan. But with about 20 minutes to spare (sort of) until my next meeting, why not enjoy the warmth and clear my head for my next meeting. So I settled back into one of the lounge chairs with my hot coffee and as the chill slowly started to leave my body, I suddenly heard the faint sound of music. But not your typical office building music (aka "elevator music"): old school slow jams from the 70s. What a perfect way to refresh before a meeting!

Having older brothers and an older sister who were teenagers when I was born, I was exposed to all sorts of music growing up. As PKs (preacher's kids), there was of course Gospel. But my oldest brother and older sister were also definitely Motown fans and appreciated other 60s music: Beatles, The Byrds, Joplin, The Mamas & The Papas. My other brother: definitely Motown, Beatles and 70s R&B, with a few other sounds thrown in (Hendrix's "Purple Haze" is forever burned into my brain—sorry big brother, I had to go there!).

My own musical tastes pretty much run the gamut, which I've discovered over the years either surprises, or in some instances offends. I make no apologies. My tastes change as I change, but I appreciate anything that inspires me or speaks to my heart, makes me want to dance or even makes me laugh (like Train's "Soul Sister"—how can anyone not like a song featuring a ukelele?).

So, it was definitely a mood lifter to sip my coffee to a few old school slow jams, especially when I heard this:

"Your eyes, are dark as the night.

Your skin is tender and golden brown
.
Long bronze fingers hold me oh, so tight
.
So rich in beauty, you deserve a crown.

That's why you are

My ebony princess."*

I don't think I've heard this song in about 20 years, but I used to love it. I longed for some guy to sing it to me. Such poetry would impress even Solomon, the master of verse. This song was also among one of my brother's favorites back in the day. And picturing him serenading my now sister-in-law—afro, platform shoes and all—well... I nearly spit out my coffee laughing (I am so going to owe him my second born after this post)!

A fond memory, laughter and warmth for the price of a cup of coffee.

* My Ebony Princess performed by Jimmy Briscoe & the Little Beavers (©1974-75?)

Taking A Walk Down Memory Lane on an Unexpected Spring Day

"I think I'll go for a walk outside now.
The summer sun's calling my name.
Can you hear me now? I just can't stay inside all day,
Got to get out, get me some of those rays…"

Sunshine Day from the Brady Bunch

I like this song. It's so fun, so catchy. Makes me want to put on a knit jumpsuit with flared legs and just start dancing. I've done crazier things!

Today was an absolutely beautiful, gorgeous spring day (although technically it's still winter). The temperature nearly hit 70 degrees, so I did just what the song suggests: took a walk outside.

Hadn't planned it, but around 3 p.m., I decided to take a much-needed break from work and go for a Starbucks iced coffee. After taking the short walk across the parking lot only to discover that the campus Starbucks was closed, I thought it's the perfect day for a walk across campus to the food court for a milkshake or ice cream or something.

It was nice to take a walk across campus. Seeing all the students walking, biking and skateboarding their way to classes or to meet friends—many dressed in shorts, although I'm not sure it's time for that yet (it is still winter)—it reminded me of my own college experience many, many, many (okay not that many) years ago.

I was pretty reticent at first about the office move back to campus. The location we were in seemed perfect, conveniently located as it was across the street from a shopping mall! But now that we're here, I like it. I like the energy of campus life, of being surrounded by people excited about exploring new things and exchanging ideas. I have many fond memories of college and the lessons learned, both in and outside of the classroom.

The long nights spent in my dorm's study hall or the library cramming for exams or typing a 500-page paper. Analyzing works by social scientists, philosophers and poets like Pavlov, de Tocqueville, Byron, Bronté, W.E.B Dubois, Toni Morrison. Classical music and coffee—I developed a taste for both in college that still persists.

Then there was basketball, Soul Night, learning the Carlton, and the "crispy critter" (don't ask). Plus those many spring days hanging out on the quad studying, while also trying to capture the attention of some cute guy like the one in my Contemporary Drama class, because even then I could multi-task. I never did catch his attention even after my riveting performance as an orphaned biracial woman grieving the loss of the biological father who'd abandoned/disowned her. (Seriously, it was Oscar-worthy. Even my professor was moved to tears and our group earned an A+. Oh well... his loss.)

But what are my best memories of college? My many, many friends. What a diverse group they were. I could never have them all in one room together. Fights would break out. (I know this because I tried... once.) And yet, aside from helping me to develop my diplomacy skills, they taught me acceptance, forgiveness, to value and appreciate differences, and to have fun.

These are lessons I am still learning.

"Wonderful things, no matter how fleeting, are never a waste." (Author unknown, from the Internet)