"If you haven’t any charity in your heart, you’ve got the worst kind of heart problem." ~Bob Hope
compassion n. - sympathetic concern for the suffering or misfortune of others.
http://youtu.be/amD8peahXmQ [Another Day in Paradise/Phil Collins]
The other day, it was a gorgeous autumn day, Tom and I went out to my favorite store: Barnes and Noble. [Not surprising right? Writers love books. I always have.] I found a $25 gift card as I was straightening "my area" last Friday. No doubt, it was left over from my birthday, and I’d not noticed it sitting there, buried among a stack of papers I was saving. [Don’t ask me for what...] My Whatzit must have been off not to have sensed the glaring flashing lights it must have been sending to me: Find me! Find me! Find me! Book money! Book money! Book money!
Boy, hiddy, once I’d found it though, it began to burn a hole in my pocket. So, Tom and I took a little drive across town the next day.
As we turned off the interstate to the road that took me to one of my little heavens on earth, I noticed, sitting on the median on a rickety old stool that divided the six-lane highway, a middle aged lady, holding up a sign, proclaiming her plight: she was down on her luck. She had a son. She wished she could work but was unable to. Her posterboard was old - faded. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to turn and ask for help from strangers. Her clothes were old and worn too.
It made me sad.
I remember when I was in high school – 11th grade, I believe. The school gave a test that was designed to help a student see the areas where they excelled – areas of interest which might aide in selecting a career path. My results were a veritable smorgasbord of range and interest. These are the things my results indicated I had a propensity for: writing, [surprise, surprise.....]; acting; politics; law; and social work. It was astounding how accurate it was in the areas of my interest. My father and mother had agreed to send me to college if I wanted to go, but their offer to each of their children was this : go to college right after graduation or get a job and work. No exception. No time off to go "discover" myself. Choice a or choice b. That was it. I decided to go to college. My father looked at the results of this proficiency exam and nixed two of the recommendations right off the bat. "In a New York minute" as he used to say, he limited my options. Straight away he said no to acting.
"I’m not paying for you to go to college for four years to act!" his statement was firm. "Do that on the side if it’s something you’re interested in doing." [He knew I was in the drama club, and it wasn’t a viable option on their dime.]
"Fine," I told him. "What else do you object to?" I knew which one he took exception to, but for the sake of argument, he needed to spell it out for me. I wanted to hear him say it.
"Absolutely NOT on the social worker recommendation!" he said with great emphasis on the word not.
I remember my brows furrowing. "You don’t think I’d be a good social worker?" I asked innocently.
"On the contrary," he countered. "You’d be an exceptional social worker! However, you’d bring every stray dog, cat and person home! The pay isn’t good, and it would defeat the purpose of you working to earn your living! You’d barely be able to take care of yourself on that salary, let alone everyone else!"
Hm. I remember thinking. There were times, at that point in my life, when I thought he didn’t know me well. But, when he had me pegged, he had me pegged.
I hated to admit it, but his assessment on that issue was right on the money, like a dart hitting dead-center in the bull’s eye zone. It was a true statement.
I’ve been known to have a "bleeding heart". Some who know me might apply it to politics. Most who know me apply it to people and animals. I’m a sucker for a "down on your luck" story. I don’t know.....I think it’s part personality and part the way I was raised.
"The Golden Rule" was drilled into my mind early on. It’s the way I live – the way I believe. If I had my way, it would be the mandatory motto for the world. Lots of problems would be solved if we all lived under the direction of "do unto others as you would have them do unto you...." Yeah. That’s a golden thought alright!
It’s the thought I had on Saturday as I looked at that woman sitting in the middle of the road, asking strangers to have a little compassion and understanding for her plight. I realize that there are people out there who run cons and do this kind of thing who are not truly in need. However, it wasn’t the case with this woman. She was down on her luck. That much was obvious. You could tell.
Seeing her sitting there like that bothered me. I imagined that she didn’t have a wonderful surprise, like finding a $25 gift card to a book store hiding beneath her private papers; she didn’t have the luxury of having a spouse take her out to lunch after said shopping expedition. Did she have a roof over her head to call home for herself and her son? I wasn’t sure.
I thought about my home - my beautiful home with all its modern day comforts and conveniences. Was she able to take a hot shower each day? It’s a simple pleasure that most of us take for granted.
Tom and I went about our business. We went into the book store, then ran to Target for a few items we "needed". The entire time, I couldn’t help thinking of her sitting out there between the highways. It gnawed at me. She was still there when we finished our errands - two hours later. Two hours. Lord knows how long before and after we saw her she sat there? I couldn’t stop thinking about that. I couldn’t stop thinking that there but by the grace of God....and I felt tears come.
God’s grace upon me has been plentiful. From my childhood to my middle age, there’s nothing that I have lacked for - no basic need that has been denied me. I’ve never had to worry about where my next meal was coming from or if I could pay the light bill each month. I am not a financially wealthy woman, but I have never known the concern of those things. There are many things I want, but not a thing in the world that I need. I have a good husband; a beautiful home; health insurance, food in my pantry, clothes in my closet and savings in the bank for a "rainy day". I have air conditioning in the summer and heat in the winter. I have a phone to use to call my family and friends whenever the need strikes, and I want to hear their voices or share some conversation. I have a computer to play on and write on. Life has its moments, but it’s good. I hate that it’s not good for everyone. It bothers me that there are some people out there who know, more often than not, how it feels to go to bed hungry and what it is to live without the comforts of modern day convenience.
Misfortune is an odd thing. It can befall even the wealthiest of people on the spin of a dime, because of unwise investments or health issues or the loss of a job or spouse.....Any number of things can change one’s lot in life. It takes a certain kind of fortitude to check one’s pride at the door and humble oneself to the lowly station of begging strangers for their kindness and their loose change. That’s not a judgement call. It is what it is. I’ve often heard though that mothers aren’t above doing anything to provide for their child – even if it means sitting in the middle of a busy road, on a rickety old stool, asking passers by for a show of mercy. How many "good cries" does it take for one to be able to rise above the inhumanity of such a state to sit with a quiet dignity and hold a sign up exposing your misfortune to all who pass you by? Have you ever paused to consider it? Last Saturday, I did. I thought, "there but by the grace of God go I or anyone I love", and if that were the case, wouldn’t I hope that someone had compassion for us in our moment of true and utter need?
"Can we loop through McDonald’s before we go get something to eat?"
My husband knows me well enough to know why I was asking.
"Sure," he replied, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "You’re my tender-hearted little Darling!" he told me. [He calls me that a lot...]
I smiled and squeezed back. I knew that he felt that way. It’s easy, however, to have a tender heart when you have so much...
"I’ll go in," I said, opening the car door and taking my cane, as I hobbled toward the door. I wanted to pack the napkins, salt/pepper, ketchup etc. myself. It may seem silly, but I wanted my personal touch on this gesture. I wanted her to know that someone truly did care, even down to the most minor of details. I got her a number four: two cheeseburgers, a large fry, a large Coke and I added two apple pies for good measure. A dollar didn’t seem too much an expense to add a touch of sweetness to someone’s day. At least that day, her and her son would have a carefree moment that having Micky D’s seems to provide for kids and their parents. At least, I hoped it would give them a carefree moment.
We looped back around so that we were in the turn lane closest to her. I was hoping the light would change to red, so that we didn’t have to toss the bag quickly out the window to her. And, what do you know....the light turned red. I think God is happy to give a helping hand when a good deed is at work....
We rolled the window down and called her over. She looked surprised when we handed her the food in addition to a $5 spot.
"God bless you folks! God bless you folks!" she said in a voice that broke a little with emotion.
"God bless you, Ma’am!" I returned the sentiment.
Tender mercies....always give them when you can.
I must admit that it was the best $10 we’ve spent in a long time! It was satisfying and rewarding all in the same breath. It made us feel good. It was better than the two tall coffees we had been planning to get later that day but decided to forgo. Imagine how much better our world would be if we all took one day and gave up a guilty pleasure – just one sacrifice so that a good deed could shine in a weary world. [My favorite quote from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory...]
I don’t think it would change the world, but it would certainly start a movement in the right direction. Do unto others....there but by the grace of God.... Good reminders, I say....such good food for thought.
This isn’t a "Magnificent Obsession" moment for me. No. There’s a reason I’m not keeping this one a secret. It’s a gesture I challenge everyone to try. Next time you see someone walking by the side of the road with all their worldly belongings crammed into a shopping cart, or you see someone wearing a winter’s coat when it’s 103 degrees outside and carrying a broken down cardboard box, or you spy a woman sitting on a rickety old stool in the middle of a busy highway asking for a small kindness, give them your compassion! Reach into your wallet and give a couple of bucks, and if you don’t have any singles, give them a $5 or $10. If you believe in the Principle of Reciprocity, you don’t have to worry about losing a few bucks in that moment, because it’s sure to come back to you in more and better ways than you could ever imagine. Even if you don’t believe in it, try it any way. I dare you to put your want aside for one day and give the blessing to someone else. I double dare you! Take the daily challenge as Carolyn Hennesy [actress and author would say ;-) ...] She challenges her followers with one every day. It's a call for one to step out beyond themselves and shake up their normal routine - do something different to better yourself or your neighbor. I hope she doesn't mind that I'm borrowing her wonderful philosophy! As such, this is mine to you...
Dignity. It’s an appreciated gift. It doesn’t cost much to give it either....$10 bucks isn’t a high price to pay for the genuine smile of gratitude you get in return. Never forget that! And, if you’re ever faced with the choice, give someone their dignity instead of taking it away from them. See them instead of ignoring them. Have compassion for them instead of pity. Their dignity, as that old adage states, in the long run, might not mean anything to you, but it means everything to them...The reverse of that statement is true. I was raised to try and put myself in another’s position. It would serve us all well, sometimes, to do it. It’s my challenge to you today: when you see someone down on their luck, try and put yourself in their shoes. Give a little of yourself to let someone know that kindness still exists in this world.
Compassion to a stranger is a much needed generosity today. Remember, at any given moment, there but by the grace of God...
Monday, October 17, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Grace Notes
"I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to put to rout all that was not life and, not when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived." ~Henry David Thoreau
A friend of mine died yesterday. It doesn’t surprise me that there’s rain here in Virginia as I sit typing. The angels are crying. I think it’s that mix of complicated tears – the ones that are happy and sad all at the same time. It’s an odd combination, something that’s indescribable, really, to put into words. On the one hand, I think tears of happiness rained down today, because heaven has gained another amazing person into its fold. On the other, sad tears trickle along in its joyous wake, because those in heaven knew that its gain meant our loss. That’s what her passing is: a true loss. Gone too soon....she’s gone much, much too soon. I’m sure, at this point, of my writing, you’re all feeling the sorrow that one typically feels when you hear the sad news that someone has died.
Here’s the amazing part of the story. I never knew Doreen Schmitt personally. We never met. I never spoke with her. I knew her solely through her blog. I have Nancy Lee Grahn [Daytime Emmy Winning Actress] to thank for the introduction. [A million thanks, Nancy, for that most precious gift....] Sidebar on Nancy: she’s got "spunk" just like Lou Grant said of Mary Richards. He hated spunk, but I kinda like that in a person. I’m pretty sure Doreen had spunk too. For all she went through, she’d have to have had a big reserve of it! Doreen was a friend of hers, and Nancy graciously shared her with the rest of us.
Back to the fact that I’d never actually met Doreen. What can I tell you? Words. Language. Thoughts. They are powerful things. They can reach across the miles and touch you. They can tell you a lot about someone. They can connect you to a person who you’d, otherwise, never have known except by the sheer power of the sentiments that they had conveyed.
So, when I tell you that yesterday, a friend of mine died, I mean that sincerely. That’s what she felt like: a friend, even if it was only in cyberspace and one-sided.
Let me tell you a little about what I know of Doreen: she was 53 years old, and she courageously battled cancer for the better part of five years. Her blog was about that journey. Her journey was, quite simply, amazing. Her motto was "Dream Big". From my readings, Doreen Schmitt lived big, especially given her circumstance. She "sucked the marrow out of life", as Thoreau did and wrote about – as we all should do.
She taught me a lot about cancer – its shock; its concern; its treatment; its cruelty; its realism. She made me a little less afraid of it though because she humanized it. I don’t know if she was ever a chess player, but she would have made a good one, because she understood strategy, and she wasn’t afraid to make a daring move. Through her writing, I discovered a woman who was incredibly strong, brave, human, reflective, optimistic, witty, caring....you’d be surprised what you can garner about a person from their writing–their thoughts–their insights.
It’s one reason that words are so powerful and people caution as to how they should be used. Doreen used them well. She knew how to string them together and make something beautiful out of them, like Christmas lights strung around a home. Her words were bright – they had a lovely glow about them, even when the message was dim.
She sounded like a woman who I would have loved to have gotten to know over some conversation with coffee and homemade cookies. Or, I think I would have truly enjoyed watching a chick flick with her. I know I would have delighted in an end-of-the summer bar-b-que with her, her family and friends. They just seem like those kind of people with whom you’re naturally comfortable to sit around with and take a load off ...that’s what I gather, anyway.
She was a mother to Amy, Angie and Jake... Some goodbyes are harder than others. I can’t imagine how difficult the thought of that one must have been for her - to look into the faces of her children and know that she wasn’t going to be able to see them into middle age and beyond. I understand how difficult it is to lose them though. I understand that all too well, and that aspect of her pain was something I truly identified with and connected to. [Those of you who know me, know about my miscarriages.]
Life. Sometimes it sucks! Yesterday was a "sucky" day, after Nancy posted that Rick, her husband, had finally come to claim his lady love. I’m certain it was a great moment for them – that heavenly reunion, but the rest of us, those who knew her and about her....well, it was a droopy day – the kind that starts out good, but loses its momentum.
Here’s another amazing facet of her story: she and her husband, Rick, were battling cancer at the same time. He lost his battle on April 1, 2010. I remember, when I read that Rick had passed, I was so saddened by it – for Doreen, for their children. From the posts, one knew that it was coming, but when the time came, I remember thinking it seemed a little surreal. People try to outdo one another with the "Gotcha! April Fool’s Day" shenanigans. There was no "gotcha" moment on that day with that news. It was real. It was true. There was no punch-line coming at the end of it, you know...where people laugh at the "good one" that had been pulled over on them. The only thing good, I imagine, that could be said about Rick’s passing was that he was no longer in pain. There was a cruel irony to it – that date, like your father dying on your husband’s birthday.
I remember thinking about Doreen in that moment. The image of her and Rick, from a picture that is on her blog, instantly came to my mind. How do you grieve when you’re in your own fight for life? How do you spare vital time and energy to go through the stages that one must go through to deal with that kind of loss, when your time and energy is a precious commodity which needs to be focused and directed on the battle you’re waging for YOUR life? I cannot imagine that walk in her life-journey! It gave new definition to the idea of "wonder woman".
Your heart can bleed and ache and hurt for someone you’ve never met. My heart did all those things for Doreen when I read that she had lost her Rick. [It did it again last night] I imagine the two of them held on tightly to the other as they stood on the front line together – each battling cancer. There must of been a strange comfort in knowing that your mate truly did understand your pain, your fears, your blah moments, your fatigue, your sadness, and your worries. They lived their lives together, and they prepared to die together, even though, I’m certain, they each held onto some small hope that they’d both beat it. I don’t know.....I’m only surmising from my reading of her thoughts about them–him, and their daughter, Amy’s, insights as well. They were fighters, and fighters don’t give up easily. They NEVER go down without giving as good at they got. I think the Schmitts gave cancer a good kick or two in its butt!
I checked in with Doreen’s blog often. I always hated the ending of her posts because they left me wanting more. It’s like reading a really good book – it’s satisfying. You don’t want it to end. When it does, you anxiously await the writer’s next gift to you. That’s how I felt reading Doreen’s blog. Even when the entries were more sobering than others, I didn’t want them to end.
She was always honest about her progress and her prognosis. I marveled at her candor - even when the news was troubling, or grim, she continued to share her life and pain and struggles with us. I knew, when the post came, that she was stopping treatment and looking to Hospice that her brave fight was coming to its end. Her posts became less frequent, and her daughter stepped in to keep Doreen’s cyber friends updated. The last couple of weeks have been a long-distance vigil. I’ve thought about her every day, since her last post, I wonder how she’s doing? I even tweeted last week that my thoughts were with her. I’d been re-reading her blog, and missing her–her posts. I knew we weren’t going to hear from her again, and it made her words-posts all the more treasured.
I remember last night, after Nancy tweeted that Doreen had finally relinquished her armor and gone into forever, I had a good cry. Does it sound odd that someone who you’ve never met before, can move you to tears? Read her blog. You’ll realize that mine was a very normal reaction.
So, after I learned the sad news about Doreen, I went back and looked at her picture – just to see her face when my mind wished her the best in this next phase of her journey. I wanted to see her when I prayed for her eternal peace. As I looked at her, I saw the unmistakable light in her eyes; the indomitable spirit that lived within them and the vibrant life they reflected back to me. That kind of thing doesn’t die. Energy doesn’t, you know. It can transform itself into something new and different, but it doesn’t die. Therein lies the comfort.
Doreen Schmitt was a phenomenal woman, just like Maya Angelou penned. I’ve attached the link to her blog so that you can discover it for yourself, if you are so inclined. I encourage you too. Hers is a good read and an extraordinary lesson in grace. That’s what her blog entries were: grace notes. I wish I knew how to write music. I’d try to express how her entries made me feel. Two songs came to mind last night after I bid her farewell: I Will Remember You. Oh, yeah! Doreen Schmitt is not a woman one will forget. I think we all hope to leave a rich legacy and a positive, lasting impression behind, once our life’s star comes to reclaim us to decorate a spot in the night sky which needs a bold touch of brilliance. She certainly achieved that. Aside from her children, who all seem to be incredible human beings, like their parents were, she left behind a gracious library of awe-inspiring insights.
If I could send a message of condolence to her children, I would tell them tonight to look up at the sky, and if they find a star that’s twinkling non-stop in their eye-view, that’s their mother waving hello and sending them all of her love from that "Next Place" that we will all travel to someday. And, I would tell them to read the book that Warren Hanson wrote entitled The Next Place. [see attached but buy the book. It's beautiful.] It is the greatest hug of comfort that one can receive when faced with a loved one’s transition. I clung to its message after my father died.
The other song I listened to was The Hands of Time from the movie Brian’s Song. I remember one of the tag lines from that movie so well: "He lived....how he did live...." I think that sentiment applies to Doreen Schmitt as well...
She lived big and dreamed big. She encouraged us all to do the same. I appreciate her message. Tonight, when the stars come out, I’m going to see if I can find her, so that I can tell her that I will try and do as she asked, and thank her for showing me, by her example, how...
In Memorium
Doreen Lynn Schmitt [May 30, 1958-October 11, 2011]
Rick Schmitt [July 28, 1956-April 1, 2010]
http://imaginenocancer.blogspot.com/2010_01_01archive [Where You Can Find Doreen’s "Dream Big" blog]
http://youtu.be/uHooH4464dQ [I Will Remember You/Sarah McLachlan]http://youtu.be/C0CYfHebP58 [The Hands of Time]
The Next Place
by Warren Hanson
The next place that I go
Will be as peaceful and familiar
As a sleepy summer Sunday
And a sweet, untroubled mind.
And yet . . .
It won't be anything like any place I've ever been. . .
Or seen. . . or even dreamed of
In the place I leave behind.
I won't know where I'm going,
And I won't know where I've been
As I tumble through the always
And look back toward the when.
I'll glide beyond the rainbows.
I'll drift above the sky.
I'll fly into the wonder, without ever wondering why.
I won't remember getting there.
Somehow I'll just arrive.
But I'll know that I belong there
And will feel much more alive
Than I have ever felt before.
I will be absolutely free of the things that I held onto
That were holding onto me.
The next place that I go
Will be so quiet and so still
That the whispered song of sweet belonging will rise up to fill
The listening sky with joyful silence,
And with unheard harmonies
Of music made by no one playing,
Like a hush upon breeze.
There will be no room for darkness in that place of living light,
Where an ever-dawning morning pushes back the dying night.
The very air will fill with brilliance, as the brightly shining sun
And the moon and half a million stars are married into one.
The next place that I go Won't really be a place at all.
There won't be any seasons --
Winter, summer, spring or fall --
Nor a Monday, Nor a Friday,
Nor December, Nor July.
And the seconds will be standing still. . .
While hours hurry by.
I will not be a boy or girl,
A woman or man.
I'll simply be just, simply, me.
No worse or better than.
My skin will not be dark or light.
I won't be fat or tall.
The body I once lived in
Won't be part of me at all.
I will finally be perfect.
I will be without a flaw.
I will never make one more mistake,
Or break the smallest law.
And the me that was impatient,
Or was angry, or unkind,
Will simply be a memory.
The me I left behind.
I will travel empty-handed.
There is not a single thing
I have collected in my life
That I would ever want to bring Except. . .
The love of those who loved me,
And the warmth of those who cared.
The happiness and memories
And magic that we shared.
Though I will know the joy of solitude. . .
I'll never be alone. I'll be embraced
By all the family and friends I've ever known.
Although I might not see their faces,
All our hearts will beat as one,
And the circle of our spirits
Will shine brighter than the sun.
I will cherish all the friendship I was fortunate to find,
All love and all the laughter in the place I leave behind.
All these good things will go with me.
They will make my spirit glow.
And that light will shine forever In the next place that I go...
A friend of mine died yesterday. It doesn’t surprise me that there’s rain here in Virginia as I sit typing. The angels are crying. I think it’s that mix of complicated tears – the ones that are happy and sad all at the same time. It’s an odd combination, something that’s indescribable, really, to put into words. On the one hand, I think tears of happiness rained down today, because heaven has gained another amazing person into its fold. On the other, sad tears trickle along in its joyous wake, because those in heaven knew that its gain meant our loss. That’s what her passing is: a true loss. Gone too soon....she’s gone much, much too soon. I’m sure, at this point, of my writing, you’re all feeling the sorrow that one typically feels when you hear the sad news that someone has died.
Here’s the amazing part of the story. I never knew Doreen Schmitt personally. We never met. I never spoke with her. I knew her solely through her blog. I have Nancy Lee Grahn [Daytime Emmy Winning Actress] to thank for the introduction. [A million thanks, Nancy, for that most precious gift....] Sidebar on Nancy: she’s got "spunk" just like Lou Grant said of Mary Richards. He hated spunk, but I kinda like that in a person. I’m pretty sure Doreen had spunk too. For all she went through, she’d have to have had a big reserve of it! Doreen was a friend of hers, and Nancy graciously shared her with the rest of us.
Back to the fact that I’d never actually met Doreen. What can I tell you? Words. Language. Thoughts. They are powerful things. They can reach across the miles and touch you. They can tell you a lot about someone. They can connect you to a person who you’d, otherwise, never have known except by the sheer power of the sentiments that they had conveyed.
So, when I tell you that yesterday, a friend of mine died, I mean that sincerely. That’s what she felt like: a friend, even if it was only in cyberspace and one-sided.
Let me tell you a little about what I know of Doreen: she was 53 years old, and she courageously battled cancer for the better part of five years. Her blog was about that journey. Her journey was, quite simply, amazing. Her motto was "Dream Big". From my readings, Doreen Schmitt lived big, especially given her circumstance. She "sucked the marrow out of life", as Thoreau did and wrote about – as we all should do.
She taught me a lot about cancer – its shock; its concern; its treatment; its cruelty; its realism. She made me a little less afraid of it though because she humanized it. I don’t know if she was ever a chess player, but she would have made a good one, because she understood strategy, and she wasn’t afraid to make a daring move. Through her writing, I discovered a woman who was incredibly strong, brave, human, reflective, optimistic, witty, caring....you’d be surprised what you can garner about a person from their writing–their thoughts–their insights.
It’s one reason that words are so powerful and people caution as to how they should be used. Doreen used them well. She knew how to string them together and make something beautiful out of them, like Christmas lights strung around a home. Her words were bright – they had a lovely glow about them, even when the message was dim.
She sounded like a woman who I would have loved to have gotten to know over some conversation with coffee and homemade cookies. Or, I think I would have truly enjoyed watching a chick flick with her. I know I would have delighted in an end-of-the summer bar-b-que with her, her family and friends. They just seem like those kind of people with whom you’re naturally comfortable to sit around with and take a load off ...that’s what I gather, anyway.
She was a mother to Amy, Angie and Jake... Some goodbyes are harder than others. I can’t imagine how difficult the thought of that one must have been for her - to look into the faces of her children and know that she wasn’t going to be able to see them into middle age and beyond. I understand how difficult it is to lose them though. I understand that all too well, and that aspect of her pain was something I truly identified with and connected to. [Those of you who know me, know about my miscarriages.]
Life. Sometimes it sucks! Yesterday was a "sucky" day, after Nancy posted that Rick, her husband, had finally come to claim his lady love. I’m certain it was a great moment for them – that heavenly reunion, but the rest of us, those who knew her and about her....well, it was a droopy day – the kind that starts out good, but loses its momentum.
Here’s another amazing facet of her story: she and her husband, Rick, were battling cancer at the same time. He lost his battle on April 1, 2010. I remember, when I read that Rick had passed, I was so saddened by it – for Doreen, for their children. From the posts, one knew that it was coming, but when the time came, I remember thinking it seemed a little surreal. People try to outdo one another with the "Gotcha! April Fool’s Day" shenanigans. There was no "gotcha" moment on that day with that news. It was real. It was true. There was no punch-line coming at the end of it, you know...where people laugh at the "good one" that had been pulled over on them. The only thing good, I imagine, that could be said about Rick’s passing was that he was no longer in pain. There was a cruel irony to it – that date, like your father dying on your husband’s birthday.
I remember thinking about Doreen in that moment. The image of her and Rick, from a picture that is on her blog, instantly came to my mind. How do you grieve when you’re in your own fight for life? How do you spare vital time and energy to go through the stages that one must go through to deal with that kind of loss, when your time and energy is a precious commodity which needs to be focused and directed on the battle you’re waging for YOUR life? I cannot imagine that walk in her life-journey! It gave new definition to the idea of "wonder woman".
Your heart can bleed and ache and hurt for someone you’ve never met. My heart did all those things for Doreen when I read that she had lost her Rick. [It did it again last night] I imagine the two of them held on tightly to the other as they stood on the front line together – each battling cancer. There must of been a strange comfort in knowing that your mate truly did understand your pain, your fears, your blah moments, your fatigue, your sadness, and your worries. They lived their lives together, and they prepared to die together, even though, I’m certain, they each held onto some small hope that they’d both beat it. I don’t know.....I’m only surmising from my reading of her thoughts about them–him, and their daughter, Amy’s, insights as well. They were fighters, and fighters don’t give up easily. They NEVER go down without giving as good at they got. I think the Schmitts gave cancer a good kick or two in its butt!
I checked in with Doreen’s blog often. I always hated the ending of her posts because they left me wanting more. It’s like reading a really good book – it’s satisfying. You don’t want it to end. When it does, you anxiously await the writer’s next gift to you. That’s how I felt reading Doreen’s blog. Even when the entries were more sobering than others, I didn’t want them to end.
She was always honest about her progress and her prognosis. I marveled at her candor - even when the news was troubling, or grim, she continued to share her life and pain and struggles with us. I knew, when the post came, that she was stopping treatment and looking to Hospice that her brave fight was coming to its end. Her posts became less frequent, and her daughter stepped in to keep Doreen’s cyber friends updated. The last couple of weeks have been a long-distance vigil. I’ve thought about her every day, since her last post, I wonder how she’s doing? I even tweeted last week that my thoughts were with her. I’d been re-reading her blog, and missing her–her posts. I knew we weren’t going to hear from her again, and it made her words-posts all the more treasured.
I remember last night, after Nancy tweeted that Doreen had finally relinquished her armor and gone into forever, I had a good cry. Does it sound odd that someone who you’ve never met before, can move you to tears? Read her blog. You’ll realize that mine was a very normal reaction.
So, after I learned the sad news about Doreen, I went back and looked at her picture – just to see her face when my mind wished her the best in this next phase of her journey. I wanted to see her when I prayed for her eternal peace. As I looked at her, I saw the unmistakable light in her eyes; the indomitable spirit that lived within them and the vibrant life they reflected back to me. That kind of thing doesn’t die. Energy doesn’t, you know. It can transform itself into something new and different, but it doesn’t die. Therein lies the comfort.
Doreen Schmitt was a phenomenal woman, just like Maya Angelou penned. I’ve attached the link to her blog so that you can discover it for yourself, if you are so inclined. I encourage you too. Hers is a good read and an extraordinary lesson in grace. That’s what her blog entries were: grace notes. I wish I knew how to write music. I’d try to express how her entries made me feel. Two songs came to mind last night after I bid her farewell: I Will Remember You. Oh, yeah! Doreen Schmitt is not a woman one will forget. I think we all hope to leave a rich legacy and a positive, lasting impression behind, once our life’s star comes to reclaim us to decorate a spot in the night sky which needs a bold touch of brilliance. She certainly achieved that. Aside from her children, who all seem to be incredible human beings, like their parents were, she left behind a gracious library of awe-inspiring insights.
If I could send a message of condolence to her children, I would tell them tonight to look up at the sky, and if they find a star that’s twinkling non-stop in their eye-view, that’s their mother waving hello and sending them all of her love from that "Next Place" that we will all travel to someday. And, I would tell them to read the book that Warren Hanson wrote entitled The Next Place. [see attached but buy the book. It's beautiful.] It is the greatest hug of comfort that one can receive when faced with a loved one’s transition. I clung to its message after my father died.
The other song I listened to was The Hands of Time from the movie Brian’s Song. I remember one of the tag lines from that movie so well: "He lived....how he did live...." I think that sentiment applies to Doreen Schmitt as well...
She lived big and dreamed big. She encouraged us all to do the same. I appreciate her message. Tonight, when the stars come out, I’m going to see if I can find her, so that I can tell her that I will try and do as she asked, and thank her for showing me, by her example, how...
In Memorium
Doreen Lynn Schmitt [May 30, 1958-October 11, 2011]
Rick Schmitt [July 28, 1956-April 1, 2010]
http://imaginenocancer.blogspot.com/2010_01_01archive [Where You Can Find Doreen’s "Dream Big" blog]
http://youtu.be/uHooH4464dQ [I Will Remember You/Sarah McLachlan]http://youtu.be/C0CYfHebP58 [The Hands of Time]
The Next Place
by Warren Hanson
The next place that I go
Will be as peaceful and familiar
As a sleepy summer Sunday
And a sweet, untroubled mind.
And yet . . .
It won't be anything like any place I've ever been. . .
Or seen. . . or even dreamed of
In the place I leave behind.
I won't know where I'm going,
And I won't know where I've been
As I tumble through the always
And look back toward the when.
I'll glide beyond the rainbows.
I'll drift above the sky.
I'll fly into the wonder, without ever wondering why.
I won't remember getting there.
Somehow I'll just arrive.
But I'll know that I belong there
And will feel much more alive
Than I have ever felt before.
I will be absolutely free of the things that I held onto
That were holding onto me.
The next place that I go
Will be so quiet and so still
That the whispered song of sweet belonging will rise up to fill
The listening sky with joyful silence,
And with unheard harmonies
Of music made by no one playing,
Like a hush upon breeze.
There will be no room for darkness in that place of living light,
Where an ever-dawning morning pushes back the dying night.
The very air will fill with brilliance, as the brightly shining sun
And the moon and half a million stars are married into one.
The next place that I go Won't really be a place at all.
There won't be any seasons --
Winter, summer, spring or fall --
Nor a Monday, Nor a Friday,
Nor December, Nor July.
And the seconds will be standing still. . .
While hours hurry by.
I will not be a boy or girl,
A woman or man.
I'll simply be just, simply, me.
No worse or better than.
My skin will not be dark or light.
I won't be fat or tall.
The body I once lived in
Won't be part of me at all.
I will finally be perfect.
I will be without a flaw.
I will never make one more mistake,
Or break the smallest law.
And the me that was impatient,
Or was angry, or unkind,
Will simply be a memory.
The me I left behind.
I will travel empty-handed.
There is not a single thing
I have collected in my life
That I would ever want to bring Except. . .
The love of those who loved me,
And the warmth of those who cared.
The happiness and memories
And magic that we shared.
Though I will know the joy of solitude. . .
I'll never be alone. I'll be embraced
By all the family and friends I've ever known.
Although I might not see their faces,
All our hearts will beat as one,
And the circle of our spirits
Will shine brighter than the sun.
I will cherish all the friendship I was fortunate to find,
All love and all the laughter in the place I leave behind.
All these good things will go with me.
They will make my spirit glow.
And that light will shine forever In the next place that I go...
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Friday, October 7, 2011
Marry Me...
http://youtu.be/uIXBJM6lDQ0 [Marry Me/Amanda Marshall]
http://youtu.be/4lazdg-eqmQ [Knights in White Satin/The Moody Blues]
"The point of marriage is not to create a quick commonality by tearing down all boundaries. On the contrary, a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of his solitude, and thus they show each other the greatest possible trust. A merging of two people is an impossibility, and where it seems to exist, it is a hemming-in, a mutual consent that robs one party or both parties of their fullest freedom and development. But, once the realization is accepted that even between the closest people, infinite distances exist, a marvelous living side-by-side can grow up for them, if they succeed in loving the expanse between them, which gives them the possibility of always seeing each other as a whole and, yet, before an immense sky."
~Rainier Maria Rilke
Do you remember what you were doing 17 years ago? I do, like it was yesterday. I’ve got one of those minds, you see, that remembers stuff like that. Even if I didn’t have a mind that remembers almost everything, I would always remember this particular date. It was the day that my husband asked me to marry him.
I was living in Maryland, and Tom was in Tallahassee. We had re-connected the previous February, after a few years of being apart. I always knew that I would marry him. I told my Aunt Judy after our first date that I’d found the man I was going to marry and, if I didn’t marry him, I wasn’t meant to get married. I don’t think it was that knee-jerk for Tom, but I knew. Sometimes, guys need a little more time to realize what it is they want exactly for their lives, and, if you’re a smart woman, you’ll give them the time they need to figure it out. I gave him his space. I left Florida and moved to Maryland. Yeah, it was scary. It was a risk. I threw the dice and took a gamble. A BIG one, and it didn’t pay off immediately. Yet, I knew it was the right thing to do–the right move to make. Sometimes in life, you’ve got to do those kind of things - take those kind of chances to get what you want. It doesn’t mean it’s going to happen overnight, but if you believe in something, REALLY believe in it, and it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. I believed in us.
We decided that October, over the Columbus Day holiday, that I would take a mini-vacation and go visit him in Florida. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time, though we’d stayed in touch. We began, as previously mentioned, in early 1994 to re-connect and have a long-distance relationship. It was time for a visit. For those of you who don’t know what a mini-vacation is, it’s shorter than a full week but longer than a 4-day weekend. I was in Florida for five days - five jam-packed, glorious days. It was whirlwind and wonderful, and I truly felt like a princess. Every girl should have that feeling once in their life. I savored it, because I’d waited a long time for it.
I arrived on Wednesday night. Tom wanted to pick me up at the airport, but I wanted to get to the hotel and freshen up before I saw him. Remember, it had been awhile. I still remember hearing his knock on the door. I still recall the butterflies, as I anxiously moved toward it and heard him call my name. I remember cracking the door and peeking out from behind it. The first thing I saw was his smile. The second thing I noticed was that he looked just the same. He was just as I remembered him, except he was a little older and wiser. I was too. I let him in, and everything else kinda faded to black.
We talked. All night long, we talked and laughed and held each other. I felt bad because he had to work on Thursday [and Friday], but he managed to catch a few winks, and he didn’t seem to mind. He got about four hours sleep. That, a hot shower, a few cups of coffee, and he was good to go. That’s what he said anyway. Adrenalin can do that to you, give you that extra boost that keeps you going when you’d, otherwise, normally crash. We were both on an adrenalin high.
I felt guilty for going back to sleep, but he told me not to, as he gave me a kiss goodbye and told me he’d pick me up for lunch. So, I went back to sleep for a couple of hours. I had room service send me up a cup of coffee and a bagel. I pampered myself with a long tub soak. It was wonderful. After lunch with him, I walked around Tallahassee and sat outside reading, which might not sound like a good time to a lot of people, but, for me, was like a Super Bowl afternoon. The first night of my mini-vacation, Tom took me to see The Moody Blues in concert. If you EVER get the chance to see them, do it. They are fantastic. We sat, snuggled in the blackness of the amphitheater as this highly underrated band played with a full orchestra underneath the backdrop of a black ceiling that looked as if a million stars had come out to serenade us, along with them. It was magical. It was wondrous. Life felt limitless in its possibilities. There’s something about young love that does that – makes you feel vaster than you actually are and more invincible than you ever will be. It’s similar to the feeling you have when you graduate from high school. Only when you’re in love, there’s someone else along for the ride, and the powerful feelings are doubly strong and twice as wondrous...magically wondrous. That’s how it was that night as we sat beneath a beautifully orchestrated sky and listened to equally, and exquisitely orchestrated music. It was good. It was one of those moments, when you’re living it, that you know it’s good, and you truly savor it. That’s how all the moments were that weekend: exquisitely good.
The following night was just as spectacular. We went to dinner at Andrew’s Restaurant. Tom has connections in high places there, and we were given the royal treatment that night. I can’t imagine how being truly royal could have rivaled my experience that evening. It didn’t matter. It was my night to know what it felt like to be a princess. We were sat at a table off, unto itself. Quiet. Romantic. Tom had a dish prepared table-side for us called Chicken Baltimore. It was delicious, and I’ve never tasted it since. Trust me, I’ve looked for the recipe. Then, I decided several years ago to stop looking for it, because some memories are more special if you can’t duplicate them in any way except for the memory of it. That Friday night was definitely one of those such days. We had a lovely dinner - the food was great; the company was good. It was setting a stage. My husband is a master at doing that.
After dinner, stuffed and lazily happy [as often happens after a great meal], we went back to my hotel room.
We slipped into something more comfortable. Yeah. It’s a line, but it was true. And, just so you know, though you don’t really need to know, we aren’t the black smoking jacket with silk pajama bottoms and slinky negligee types! No. We’re more the sweat pants and over-sized t-shirt types. There’s something to be said for that: relaxed, comfortable ease. That’s how we’ve always been with the other. We impress each other in different ways that don’t require black smoking jackets with silk pajama bottoms or slinky negligees. We don’t need gimmicks.
Earlier in the day, we stopped at a video store [anyone remember when they use to be commonplace?] and we rented a VCR [I’ve referenced this technical dinosaur previously, but it really wasn’t that long ago....] Tom indulged me. He let me pick out the movies, and I chose Same Time Next Year and On Golden Pond. He’d also picked up a container of chocolate milk [we don’t drink alcohol.] and a bag of Pepperidge Farm Sausalito cookies, for a little midnight snack. He would have made a good girl scout: he came well prepared that evening. We made it through the first movie, and I was pleasantly surprised that he liked it. [Alan Alda and Ellen Burstyn were in it. How bad could it be, right?] We had our intermission of cookies and milk. I sat in the center of the bed, propped up with extra pillows, enjoying my sweet treat.
Tom went to the dresser drawer. I watched as he rummaged around for something. "Hold on," he said. "I’ve got something for you."
My brows came together. He handed me something heavy and rectangular. It was wrapped in paper, with all of it tied in the center and fluffed out the way flower shops wrap fruit baskets, with see-through wrap – all poofy and wispy. It was very sweet–endearing that he took the time to have it wrapped like that. It was the kind of thing that makes a woman’s heart go pitter-pat, because of the genuine effort put into the gesture. The ribbon was tied in a beautiful bow, and when he handed it to me, I couldn’t imagine what was inside the thoughtful wrapping?
Both of my brows furrowed harder, as I tried to figure out what it was. I giggled. "My God!" I exclaimed. "It feels like a brick!"
His face didn’t give anything away. "Would you just open it!" he said more eager than impatient. If his heart sunk a little when I said what I did, he didn’t let on.
I untied the ribbon and pulled the paper away, and to my surprise, it was a brick. Truly. Actually. REALLY, it was brick! But, it wasn’t just any brick. It was a perfectly selected, unflawed brick and in gold paint, he had intertwined our names and written beneath them, "Let’s start building..." He’d already picked the day: April 28, 1995. [April 28, 1989 was when we had our first date] Did I mention that my husband is a romantic? Yeah. I’m blessed. I know it...
Anyway, I remember sitting there in the middle of the bed with the hum of the room’s heater in the background, on an early autumn evening, staring down at this brick with it’s golden message, as tears came and the room spun a bit. When I looked up at him, he had his hand opened to me, and sitting in his palm was an opened box with a glittering diamond, its light sparkled up at me, brighter than any star I’d ever seen. I glanced over at him. He was on bended knee - it looked as if he were about to say his prayers, except that he was leaning across the mattress toward me, bearing gifts – life-changing gifts.
I think most women would have reached for the ring first. Some of my friends have said they would have been so excited that they’d have wanted to investigate it thoroughly and wanted it immediately put on their finger. I guess I’m not like most women or most of my friends, because I reached for him first. I remember feeling his arms wrap around me. His is a strong embrace. I felt safe inside his space. It’s something I notice in men – how strong their hugs are, and how safe I feel inside them....With Tom, I felt good about both!
He moved his face closer to me so that his eyes were looking into mine. "Will you, Sweetie?" he asked. "Will you marry me?"
This was never a question that required any deep thought on my part. I’d known from our first date that if I didn’t marry him, there wasn’t a guy out there for me, because I knew, after that first, true "hanging out" together, that he was the one. I remember laughing and crying, that funny mix of happy tears, and telling him what I’d waited a long time to tell him: "Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!"
I remember his smile, when I gave him that response. It was a lottery-winning kind of smile. Mine was reflected back into his. I don’t think he doubted for a second what my answer would be, but there’s always a moment, when you ask an important question like that, when your heart is beating so loudly that you aren’t certain if you heard the answer you were hoping to hear. You have to pause to think back on it. He didn’t need to pause or think back. Tom had heard my answer loud and clear. His smile evidence as much, and it made me laugh, because he looked as if, in the answering of my yes, he’d caught a lucky break and gotten a really good deal on something. It’s the same message contained in my smile back to him. It’s something I wish that every man and every woman could feel once in their life: that truly, giddy feeling of "Oh my God! MY GOD! I’ve hit the MOTHERLODE!!!"
He slid the ring on my finger and kissed it for good measure. Then, I kissed him. The second movie was forgotten as we turned off the light and snuggled in the bed, talking about plans and future and dreams.
Later that night, too excited to sleep, I remember lying in the bed and being aware of every sound and every feeling: Tom’s body next to mine; hearing his breathing and the slow, steady timbre of his light snoring, and I thought to myself: Yeah. I can do this for the next 50 years! I think I dozed for a couple of hours that night, wrapped up in him and vice versa. But, there were "farming instincts" in my blood, and I was up at the crack of dawn, because there were phone calls to be made. I think my mother and Aunt Judy both suspected what was going to happen that weekend, and I called them both respectively to squeal into the phone and share my unbridled joy! I called my two best friends as well. It was news too exciting and extraordinary not to share.
Later in the morning, we went to IHOP for breakfast. We had a BIG breakfast - Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity! That’s what we both had. I don’t know about you, but happy, life-changing events can work up a mighty appetite, and we were both hungry. We had a leisurely brunch. That’s what it was for us, then he took me shopping to an unusual little place called The Mole Hole [I don’t think they’re in business any longer, which is sad.] The contents inside the store were as unique as its name. We wandered through it, taking our time before our afternoon movie. Tom knew I liked unusual stores, and things like that. As if my brick and ring weren’t enough gift that weekend, he bought me a lovely glass bird that was the shade of cornflowers. He probably wouldn’t have insisted on getting it for me, but when I saw it, the first thing that came to my mind was the bluebird of happiness. I laughed when I held it up, because it was odd that my eyes would wander straight to that item. Tom thought it was the right sentimental touch to top off the perfect weekend. [The sentiment was a good omen too. ] After our shopping excursion, he took me to see The River Wild. It was a great thriller with Meryl Streep and Kevin Bacon. [Can you tell that we love movies?] I snuggled close to him after we ate hot, buttered popcorn. It was the kind of movie where a girl wants to feel the arm of her guy around her, because the movie was suspenseful, and the arm was secure. It was a hint of many "to be" moments, when I’d watch a movie beneath the security of his arm.
The following day, we gathered at the house that Tom shared with his brother, Jim, and he introduced me as his fiancé to a group of friends who’d come over to spend the afternoon watching football. Tom made his mother’s meatball grinders, and we eased into the first, real feelings of being an engaged couple, sharing our time and happy moments with family and friends. [There would be more of that to follow several weeks later when Tom flew to Maryland to formally ask my father for my hand. Yeah, it’s old school, but it was an important gesture to a southern father.] That night, I stayed at Tom and Jim’s house because I had an early flight out the following morning.
It was hard to leave. It was one of those moments when, paraphrasing from When Harry Met Sally, you felt like "when your life is about to truly begin, you want it to begin right then and there, in that moment." I can still feel the strength of his hug, as we waited at the boarding gate.
"I’ll be there before you have time to miss me," he said.
"I already miss you!" I cried.
"It’ll be okay!" he assured. "We just have to get through the next few months, then I’ll be there for good. No more apart..."
He was moving to Maryland for me. I had a good job as a Technical Writer, and jobs for writer’s don’t come down the pike everyday. He was a manager at a retail establishment. He felt he’d have a better shot at a job coming to him in Maryland, than the other way around. [He landed a job four weeks later as a department manager for a new store that was being built and scheduled to open in early March of ‘95.] Tom moved up to Maryland the first week of February There was definitely a higher power at work in our lives. Everything unfolded in perfect timing as to how we needed it to play out. My little, glass bluebird of happiness would prove to be a good talisman. At the time, I only knew how much I loved it. I didn’t know it would truly come to represent the happiness we were feeling or that was yet to come. It was safely tucked away inside my purse as I waited to board.
I sucked it up. There was a lot of planning that needed to be done. The time would pass lickety split. My heart knew that. I wasn’t thrilled that we wouldn’t be together for the holidays, but Tom promised that we’d talk several times a day to get through it, then we’d never be apart again.
When I got on the plane, I looked over to the waiting area I’d just left and saw him standing at the floor-to-ceiling window - waiting for the plane to take off, watching for signs of me to appear from behind a window so that he could wave. I felt tears come to my eyes. I remembered another time and another man who loved me - who waited until I’d gotten off safely and was out of his sight before he turned to continue on with his business for the remainder of his day. I closed my eyes, sighing for a moment and feeling truly blessed. Blessings. When they come to you, they’re grand, and God’s blessings for me that first week in October of 1994 have been among my grandest. I had been wooed and romanced, chocolate-milked and dined, loved and engaged. If I had to imagine what dancing on a cloud felt like, it would be those 5 days in Tallahassee, when I went from being a single lady and returned home, about to enter into the club of soon-to-be-married women.
Waiting for the plane to take off and staring at him out the window, I saw my life come full circle. I remembered how devastated I’d been when Tom and I had broken up, because I knew he needed time and space to figure out what exactly it was he wanted for his life. I knew it was me. It’s the only time in my life – or thing in my life that I’ve ever been 100% certain of. Still, I had to let him come to that realization on his own. He was my true North, and I knew, when I let him go, that if he ever came back to me, it would be because he’d figured out that I was his too...
I remember my parents waiting for me at the other end of the plane's destination.
My mother hugged me the way, I imagine, all mothers do when their daughter gets engaged. There was excitement in her hug, and I could tell her mind had already been making as many plans as mine had on that plane ride home. She took hold of my left hand and looked at my ring.
She lifted it up to my father as her excitement rose. "Earl, look!" she beamed.
My father looked down, then he looked up at me. It wasn’t anything he said as much as that look. He held me in different light. I could see it clearly. I had gotten on that plane as his daughter-his youngest child, and I had returned as someone else’s intended. I would always be his daughter, but everything had changed in the span of five days. I felt it in his hug – his strong hug.
I woke up this morning to find a dozen yellow roses with red tips around the petals waiting on the kitchen island to greet me. There was also an "everything" bagel beside it. Seventeen years later, and my Tom has still got the moves.
I smiled. I smiled BIG, and my first prayer of the day was, "Thank you, God, for giving me this wonderful man!"
The roses are beautiful, and they’re in our special color: yellow. Yellow for us signifies want, clarity, warmth, happiness, brilliance, authenticity, golden grace and love that’s so bright and beautiful, it could give the sun lessons in how to shine. That’s our yellow. I looked at each one of those roses in its perfect splendor and beauty and remembered back to when we were first dating, and he left me one, perfect red rose.
"Ooh, that means he loves you!" a friend had told me. "One red rose means true love."
This morning, I looked at all my pretty roses and thought, He loves me a LOT! And, I love him. Still– Madly. Deeply. Always...
We’ve shared a lot in the last 17 years together - lived through a great deal of change; seen most of our dreams realized; had a couple of them not and accepted the fact that that particular dream would never be for us–it wasn’t in our cards; but, I can’t complain. In the blessings department, I hit the motherlode on October 7, 1994.
That little bluebird of happiness glass figurine pegged it right so many years ago. Happy. That’s what we are. It doesn’t mean we don’t have our share of problems, or that there aren’t moments when he drives me crazy and vice versa. Ups. Downs. Good things - bad. Those are normal parts of the scenery of a life lived. But, by the grace of God, and his loving smile on me with the gift of this man and this marriage, I’ve not had to face those things alone. I am immeasurably blessed and equally happy. After all, happiness is a state of overall being, and that, in a nutshell, defines the marriage of the Bosher-Perrans.
I think the greatest testament to the love Tom and I share is that if I had to do it all over again, knowing ALL the things I know now, I’d say "yes" again, without a second thought – "in a New York minute" as my father used to say. And, Tom has told me that if he had to do it all over again, knowing ALL the things that he knows, he'd still ask me without a second thought, in that same, New York minute.
We’re 17 years into that 50 we talked about spending together so many years ago. I saw a cartoon once, and I’ve amended it to fit our personalities. It says: I imagine us skidding across the finish line together with a glass of chocolate milk in one hand and a hand of Nutter Butters in the other, laughing and squealing in delight, "Wa*Hoo McDaniel! What a ride!"
It has been! I’ll tell you that. So far, it’s been a wild and crazy ride. I’m looking forward to the rest of it.
And, the truest thing I can say about him now, just as I said about him 22 years ago, when we first met: he’s my knight in shining armor...still...still...still...
I hope he never forgets it...
http://youtu.be/si_1mpmVECA [The Last Time I Felt Like This from Same Time Next Year]http://youtu.be/0b_KZmm5eIo [Theme from On Golden Pond]
http://youtu.be/4lazdg-eqmQ [Knights in White Satin/The Moody Blues]
"The point of marriage is not to create a quick commonality by tearing down all boundaries. On the contrary, a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of his solitude, and thus they show each other the greatest possible trust. A merging of two people is an impossibility, and where it seems to exist, it is a hemming-in, a mutual consent that robs one party or both parties of their fullest freedom and development. But, once the realization is accepted that even between the closest people, infinite distances exist, a marvelous living side-by-side can grow up for them, if they succeed in loving the expanse between them, which gives them the possibility of always seeing each other as a whole and, yet, before an immense sky."
~Rainier Maria Rilke
Do you remember what you were doing 17 years ago? I do, like it was yesterday. I’ve got one of those minds, you see, that remembers stuff like that. Even if I didn’t have a mind that remembers almost everything, I would always remember this particular date. It was the day that my husband asked me to marry him.
I was living in Maryland, and Tom was in Tallahassee. We had re-connected the previous February, after a few years of being apart. I always knew that I would marry him. I told my Aunt Judy after our first date that I’d found the man I was going to marry and, if I didn’t marry him, I wasn’t meant to get married. I don’t think it was that knee-jerk for Tom, but I knew. Sometimes, guys need a little more time to realize what it is they want exactly for their lives, and, if you’re a smart woman, you’ll give them the time they need to figure it out. I gave him his space. I left Florida and moved to Maryland. Yeah, it was scary. It was a risk. I threw the dice and took a gamble. A BIG one, and it didn’t pay off immediately. Yet, I knew it was the right thing to do–the right move to make. Sometimes in life, you’ve got to do those kind of things - take those kind of chances to get what you want. It doesn’t mean it’s going to happen overnight, but if you believe in something, REALLY believe in it, and it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. I believed in us.
We decided that October, over the Columbus Day holiday, that I would take a mini-vacation and go visit him in Florida. We hadn’t seen each other in a long time, though we’d stayed in touch. We began, as previously mentioned, in early 1994 to re-connect and have a long-distance relationship. It was time for a visit. For those of you who don’t know what a mini-vacation is, it’s shorter than a full week but longer than a 4-day weekend. I was in Florida for five days - five jam-packed, glorious days. It was whirlwind and wonderful, and I truly felt like a princess. Every girl should have that feeling once in their life. I savored it, because I’d waited a long time for it.
I arrived on Wednesday night. Tom wanted to pick me up at the airport, but I wanted to get to the hotel and freshen up before I saw him. Remember, it had been awhile. I still remember hearing his knock on the door. I still recall the butterflies, as I anxiously moved toward it and heard him call my name. I remember cracking the door and peeking out from behind it. The first thing I saw was his smile. The second thing I noticed was that he looked just the same. He was just as I remembered him, except he was a little older and wiser. I was too. I let him in, and everything else kinda faded to black.
We talked. All night long, we talked and laughed and held each other. I felt bad because he had to work on Thursday [and Friday], but he managed to catch a few winks, and he didn’t seem to mind. He got about four hours sleep. That, a hot shower, a few cups of coffee, and he was good to go. That’s what he said anyway. Adrenalin can do that to you, give you that extra boost that keeps you going when you’d, otherwise, normally crash. We were both on an adrenalin high.
I felt guilty for going back to sleep, but he told me not to, as he gave me a kiss goodbye and told me he’d pick me up for lunch. So, I went back to sleep for a couple of hours. I had room service send me up a cup of coffee and a bagel. I pampered myself with a long tub soak. It was wonderful. After lunch with him, I walked around Tallahassee and sat outside reading, which might not sound like a good time to a lot of people, but, for me, was like a Super Bowl afternoon. The first night of my mini-vacation, Tom took me to see The Moody Blues in concert. If you EVER get the chance to see them, do it. They are fantastic. We sat, snuggled in the blackness of the amphitheater as this highly underrated band played with a full orchestra underneath the backdrop of a black ceiling that looked as if a million stars had come out to serenade us, along with them. It was magical. It was wondrous. Life felt limitless in its possibilities. There’s something about young love that does that – makes you feel vaster than you actually are and more invincible than you ever will be. It’s similar to the feeling you have when you graduate from high school. Only when you’re in love, there’s someone else along for the ride, and the powerful feelings are doubly strong and twice as wondrous...magically wondrous. That’s how it was that night as we sat beneath a beautifully orchestrated sky and listened to equally, and exquisitely orchestrated music. It was good. It was one of those moments, when you’re living it, that you know it’s good, and you truly savor it. That’s how all the moments were that weekend: exquisitely good.
The following night was just as spectacular. We went to dinner at Andrew’s Restaurant. Tom has connections in high places there, and we were given the royal treatment that night. I can’t imagine how being truly royal could have rivaled my experience that evening. It didn’t matter. It was my night to know what it felt like to be a princess. We were sat at a table off, unto itself. Quiet. Romantic. Tom had a dish prepared table-side for us called Chicken Baltimore. It was delicious, and I’ve never tasted it since. Trust me, I’ve looked for the recipe. Then, I decided several years ago to stop looking for it, because some memories are more special if you can’t duplicate them in any way except for the memory of it. That Friday night was definitely one of those such days. We had a lovely dinner - the food was great; the company was good. It was setting a stage. My husband is a master at doing that.
After dinner, stuffed and lazily happy [as often happens after a great meal], we went back to my hotel room.
We slipped into something more comfortable. Yeah. It’s a line, but it was true. And, just so you know, though you don’t really need to know, we aren’t the black smoking jacket with silk pajama bottoms and slinky negligee types! No. We’re more the sweat pants and over-sized t-shirt types. There’s something to be said for that: relaxed, comfortable ease. That’s how we’ve always been with the other. We impress each other in different ways that don’t require black smoking jackets with silk pajama bottoms or slinky negligees. We don’t need gimmicks.
Earlier in the day, we stopped at a video store [anyone remember when they use to be commonplace?] and we rented a VCR [I’ve referenced this technical dinosaur previously, but it really wasn’t that long ago....] Tom indulged me. He let me pick out the movies, and I chose Same Time Next Year and On Golden Pond. He’d also picked up a container of chocolate milk [we don’t drink alcohol.] and a bag of Pepperidge Farm Sausalito cookies, for a little midnight snack. He would have made a good girl scout: he came well prepared that evening. We made it through the first movie, and I was pleasantly surprised that he liked it. [Alan Alda and Ellen Burstyn were in it. How bad could it be, right?] We had our intermission of cookies and milk. I sat in the center of the bed, propped up with extra pillows, enjoying my sweet treat.
Tom went to the dresser drawer. I watched as he rummaged around for something. "Hold on," he said. "I’ve got something for you."
My brows came together. He handed me something heavy and rectangular. It was wrapped in paper, with all of it tied in the center and fluffed out the way flower shops wrap fruit baskets, with see-through wrap – all poofy and wispy. It was very sweet–endearing that he took the time to have it wrapped like that. It was the kind of thing that makes a woman’s heart go pitter-pat, because of the genuine effort put into the gesture. The ribbon was tied in a beautiful bow, and when he handed it to me, I couldn’t imagine what was inside the thoughtful wrapping?
Both of my brows furrowed harder, as I tried to figure out what it was. I giggled. "My God!" I exclaimed. "It feels like a brick!"
His face didn’t give anything away. "Would you just open it!" he said more eager than impatient. If his heart sunk a little when I said what I did, he didn’t let on.
I untied the ribbon and pulled the paper away, and to my surprise, it was a brick. Truly. Actually. REALLY, it was brick! But, it wasn’t just any brick. It was a perfectly selected, unflawed brick and in gold paint, he had intertwined our names and written beneath them, "Let’s start building..." He’d already picked the day: April 28, 1995. [April 28, 1989 was when we had our first date] Did I mention that my husband is a romantic? Yeah. I’m blessed. I know it...
Anyway, I remember sitting there in the middle of the bed with the hum of the room’s heater in the background, on an early autumn evening, staring down at this brick with it’s golden message, as tears came and the room spun a bit. When I looked up at him, he had his hand opened to me, and sitting in his palm was an opened box with a glittering diamond, its light sparkled up at me, brighter than any star I’d ever seen. I glanced over at him. He was on bended knee - it looked as if he were about to say his prayers, except that he was leaning across the mattress toward me, bearing gifts – life-changing gifts.
I think most women would have reached for the ring first. Some of my friends have said they would have been so excited that they’d have wanted to investigate it thoroughly and wanted it immediately put on their finger. I guess I’m not like most women or most of my friends, because I reached for him first. I remember feeling his arms wrap around me. His is a strong embrace. I felt safe inside his space. It’s something I notice in men – how strong their hugs are, and how safe I feel inside them....With Tom, I felt good about both!
He moved his face closer to me so that his eyes were looking into mine. "Will you, Sweetie?" he asked. "Will you marry me?"
This was never a question that required any deep thought on my part. I’d known from our first date that if I didn’t marry him, there wasn’t a guy out there for me, because I knew, after that first, true "hanging out" together, that he was the one. I remember laughing and crying, that funny mix of happy tears, and telling him what I’d waited a long time to tell him: "Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!"
I remember his smile, when I gave him that response. It was a lottery-winning kind of smile. Mine was reflected back into his. I don’t think he doubted for a second what my answer would be, but there’s always a moment, when you ask an important question like that, when your heart is beating so loudly that you aren’t certain if you heard the answer you were hoping to hear. You have to pause to think back on it. He didn’t need to pause or think back. Tom had heard my answer loud and clear. His smile evidence as much, and it made me laugh, because he looked as if, in the answering of my yes, he’d caught a lucky break and gotten a really good deal on something. It’s the same message contained in my smile back to him. It’s something I wish that every man and every woman could feel once in their life: that truly, giddy feeling of "Oh my God! MY GOD! I’ve hit the MOTHERLODE!!!"
He slid the ring on my finger and kissed it for good measure. Then, I kissed him. The second movie was forgotten as we turned off the light and snuggled in the bed, talking about plans and future and dreams.
Later that night, too excited to sleep, I remember lying in the bed and being aware of every sound and every feeling: Tom’s body next to mine; hearing his breathing and the slow, steady timbre of his light snoring, and I thought to myself: Yeah. I can do this for the next 50 years! I think I dozed for a couple of hours that night, wrapped up in him and vice versa. But, there were "farming instincts" in my blood, and I was up at the crack of dawn, because there were phone calls to be made. I think my mother and Aunt Judy both suspected what was going to happen that weekend, and I called them both respectively to squeal into the phone and share my unbridled joy! I called my two best friends as well. It was news too exciting and extraordinary not to share.
Later in the morning, we went to IHOP for breakfast. We had a BIG breakfast - Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity! That’s what we both had. I don’t know about you, but happy, life-changing events can work up a mighty appetite, and we were both hungry. We had a leisurely brunch. That’s what it was for us, then he took me shopping to an unusual little place called The Mole Hole [I don’t think they’re in business any longer, which is sad.] The contents inside the store were as unique as its name. We wandered through it, taking our time before our afternoon movie. Tom knew I liked unusual stores, and things like that. As if my brick and ring weren’t enough gift that weekend, he bought me a lovely glass bird that was the shade of cornflowers. He probably wouldn’t have insisted on getting it for me, but when I saw it, the first thing that came to my mind was the bluebird of happiness. I laughed when I held it up, because it was odd that my eyes would wander straight to that item. Tom thought it was the right sentimental touch to top off the perfect weekend. [The sentiment was a good omen too. ] After our shopping excursion, he took me to see The River Wild. It was a great thriller with Meryl Streep and Kevin Bacon. [Can you tell that we love movies?] I snuggled close to him after we ate hot, buttered popcorn. It was the kind of movie where a girl wants to feel the arm of her guy around her, because the movie was suspenseful, and the arm was secure. It was a hint of many "to be" moments, when I’d watch a movie beneath the security of his arm.
The following day, we gathered at the house that Tom shared with his brother, Jim, and he introduced me as his fiancé to a group of friends who’d come over to spend the afternoon watching football. Tom made his mother’s meatball grinders, and we eased into the first, real feelings of being an engaged couple, sharing our time and happy moments with family and friends. [There would be more of that to follow several weeks later when Tom flew to Maryland to formally ask my father for my hand. Yeah, it’s old school, but it was an important gesture to a southern father.] That night, I stayed at Tom and Jim’s house because I had an early flight out the following morning.
It was hard to leave. It was one of those moments when, paraphrasing from When Harry Met Sally, you felt like "when your life is about to truly begin, you want it to begin right then and there, in that moment." I can still feel the strength of his hug, as we waited at the boarding gate.
"I’ll be there before you have time to miss me," he said.
"I already miss you!" I cried.
"It’ll be okay!" he assured. "We just have to get through the next few months, then I’ll be there for good. No more apart..."
He was moving to Maryland for me. I had a good job as a Technical Writer, and jobs for writer’s don’t come down the pike everyday. He was a manager at a retail establishment. He felt he’d have a better shot at a job coming to him in Maryland, than the other way around. [He landed a job four weeks later as a department manager for a new store that was being built and scheduled to open in early March of ‘95.] Tom moved up to Maryland the first week of February There was definitely a higher power at work in our lives. Everything unfolded in perfect timing as to how we needed it to play out. My little, glass bluebird of happiness would prove to be a good talisman. At the time, I only knew how much I loved it. I didn’t know it would truly come to represent the happiness we were feeling or that was yet to come. It was safely tucked away inside my purse as I waited to board.
I sucked it up. There was a lot of planning that needed to be done. The time would pass lickety split. My heart knew that. I wasn’t thrilled that we wouldn’t be together for the holidays, but Tom promised that we’d talk several times a day to get through it, then we’d never be apart again.
When I got on the plane, I looked over to the waiting area I’d just left and saw him standing at the floor-to-ceiling window - waiting for the plane to take off, watching for signs of me to appear from behind a window so that he could wave. I felt tears come to my eyes. I remembered another time and another man who loved me - who waited until I’d gotten off safely and was out of his sight before he turned to continue on with his business for the remainder of his day. I closed my eyes, sighing for a moment and feeling truly blessed. Blessings. When they come to you, they’re grand, and God’s blessings for me that first week in October of 1994 have been among my grandest. I had been wooed and romanced, chocolate-milked and dined, loved and engaged. If I had to imagine what dancing on a cloud felt like, it would be those 5 days in Tallahassee, when I went from being a single lady and returned home, about to enter into the club of soon-to-be-married women.
Waiting for the plane to take off and staring at him out the window, I saw my life come full circle. I remembered how devastated I’d been when Tom and I had broken up, because I knew he needed time and space to figure out what exactly it was he wanted for his life. I knew it was me. It’s the only time in my life – or thing in my life that I’ve ever been 100% certain of. Still, I had to let him come to that realization on his own. He was my true North, and I knew, when I let him go, that if he ever came back to me, it would be because he’d figured out that I was his too...
I remember my parents waiting for me at the other end of the plane's destination.
My mother hugged me the way, I imagine, all mothers do when their daughter gets engaged. There was excitement in her hug, and I could tell her mind had already been making as many plans as mine had on that plane ride home. She took hold of my left hand and looked at my ring.
She lifted it up to my father as her excitement rose. "Earl, look!" she beamed.
My father looked down, then he looked up at me. It wasn’t anything he said as much as that look. He held me in different light. I could see it clearly. I had gotten on that plane as his daughter-his youngest child, and I had returned as someone else’s intended. I would always be his daughter, but everything had changed in the span of five days. I felt it in his hug – his strong hug.
I woke up this morning to find a dozen yellow roses with red tips around the petals waiting on the kitchen island to greet me. There was also an "everything" bagel beside it. Seventeen years later, and my Tom has still got the moves.
I smiled. I smiled BIG, and my first prayer of the day was, "Thank you, God, for giving me this wonderful man!"
The roses are beautiful, and they’re in our special color: yellow. Yellow for us signifies want, clarity, warmth, happiness, brilliance, authenticity, golden grace and love that’s so bright and beautiful, it could give the sun lessons in how to shine. That’s our yellow. I looked at each one of those roses in its perfect splendor and beauty and remembered back to when we were first dating, and he left me one, perfect red rose.
"Ooh, that means he loves you!" a friend had told me. "One red rose means true love."
This morning, I looked at all my pretty roses and thought, He loves me a LOT! And, I love him. Still– Madly. Deeply. Always...
We’ve shared a lot in the last 17 years together - lived through a great deal of change; seen most of our dreams realized; had a couple of them not and accepted the fact that that particular dream would never be for us–it wasn’t in our cards; but, I can’t complain. In the blessings department, I hit the motherlode on October 7, 1994.
That little bluebird of happiness glass figurine pegged it right so many years ago. Happy. That’s what we are. It doesn’t mean we don’t have our share of problems, or that there aren’t moments when he drives me crazy and vice versa. Ups. Downs. Good things - bad. Those are normal parts of the scenery of a life lived. But, by the grace of God, and his loving smile on me with the gift of this man and this marriage, I’ve not had to face those things alone. I am immeasurably blessed and equally happy. After all, happiness is a state of overall being, and that, in a nutshell, defines the marriage of the Bosher-Perrans.
I think the greatest testament to the love Tom and I share is that if I had to do it all over again, knowing ALL the things I know now, I’d say "yes" again, without a second thought – "in a New York minute" as my father used to say. And, Tom has told me that if he had to do it all over again, knowing ALL the things that he knows, he'd still ask me without a second thought, in that same, New York minute.
We’re 17 years into that 50 we talked about spending together so many years ago. I saw a cartoon once, and I’ve amended it to fit our personalities. It says: I imagine us skidding across the finish line together with a glass of chocolate milk in one hand and a hand of Nutter Butters in the other, laughing and squealing in delight, "Wa*Hoo McDaniel! What a ride!"
It has been! I’ll tell you that. So far, it’s been a wild and crazy ride. I’m looking forward to the rest of it.
And, the truest thing I can say about him now, just as I said about him 22 years ago, when we first met: he’s my knight in shining armor...still...still...still...
I hope he never forgets it...
http://youtu.be/si_1mpmVECA [The Last Time I Felt Like This from Same Time Next Year]http://youtu.be/0b_KZmm5eIo [Theme from On Golden Pond]
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