"We die daily. Happy those who daily come to life as well." ~George MacDonald

I should have noted that I flew last week.  And I remembered why I love it.  Someone was talking about people your soul knows (I love that and instinctively feel the truth of the words), I think there must be things we do that our soul "knows".  It's good for me - flying little airplanes.

After the flight I saw a missed call from my mother-in-laws Memory care facility.  She had taken a fall, maybe fractured her hip, and was at the hospital.  I hurried to pick up V and got her settled at home then made the drive up there.  By time I arrived I'd already learned that her hip was fine but there was a slow bleed in her brain.
My husband arrived (after a 12 hour drive) in the parking lot at the same time I did and we walked up to the ICU together.  She survived the night but never regained consciousness.  The next day we moved her to a hospice facility.  She passed yesterday.

I am happy for her.  Life can get pretty confusing and frustrating when memory loss gets the upper hand.

I am ready to be happy again.  As happy as I usually have been.  Maybe even happier if that is possible.  It looks like flying is going to be part of that.  And painting (big canvases).  And getting settled into a home.  And going to the beach (I just threw that in there because if anything is a "reset" in life, it's gotta be going to the beach).

Last week (this is random) a guy who I had friended on Facebook just because he graduated from my high school and had a ton of the same friends, I thought he was probably a classmate who I just didn't remember.  Anyway ... he was best friends with the guy who was killed in the car accident with my big brother.  He has been wanting to text me about that for a couple of years now.  I hope what ever resolution he was hoping for was found.  We carry our baggage too long I think.   Why is it so hard to put down?

"Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. 

Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with 

love, grace and gratitude." 

- Denis Waitley

"There is no duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy." 

- R.L. Stevenson

Can you will yourself to "be happy" and can you will yourself to "put down our baggage/burdens"?
Worth a shot.

silliness with my girls

V

The idea was - take a picture of yourself right now, filter it with that chrome deal that makes everything so white, post it to our group chat so we can all see each other.  (Because I need to see them sometimes.  Of course my sons wouldn't participate in this type nonsense and they are not included in this group for that very reason.) V, declined. So I used the screen shot of what my phone flashes up when she calls.

IV Between classes

II  @ work

me painting at home

V on the bus so this was a fill in shot

In the Company of Heroes

IN THE COMPANY OF HEROES
~ Matt Hall Studios

A SILENT REUNION – EASY COMPANY VETERANS 2004.

“In the Company of Heroes” depicts an event from December 2004 when members of Easy Company, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment visited the Luxembourg American Cemetery where many of their fallen comrades are buried. Originally released by Valor Studios, the legend on the bottom of the print reads… “On a cold December day, veterans of the Battle of the Bulge reunite at the American cemetery in Luxembourg. Here, guarded by tall pines, rest the mortal remains of some 5,000 American boys who died fighting to liberate Europe. As the veterans reflect amidst the gently falling snow, their welling emotions confirm their often-stated belief: “The real heroes never came home.” Here, they feel a presence, a warmth amidst the cold. Something tells them they are not alone and this silent reunion is not the last.”

"As we express our gratitude, 

we must never forget that 

the highest appreciation is not to utter words, 

but to live by them." 

– John Fitzgerald Kennedy

just like shimmering pennies

 The hospice nurse noticed that fire works were going up.  Vibrant bursts of colored light brilliant in the night sky.  I love the ones that seem to fall like pennies, those little cascading copper lights always make me smile.  Pennies for your thoughts ... hundreds of them, enough to fix any problem.
"Why in the world are there fireworks tonight?" The nurse wondered.  Probably someone's fancy occasion, I thought maybe a wedding, but I said, "They are for T's birthday ~ 9* today." I wondered if she would "pass" on her birthday, but she didn't.  My husband is with her now and I am back at home tending to our daughter.  I would be fine sitting with her, but I am happier to be home.  Please God, let this be the last of my people who need this sort of care for a while.

Tommy's birthday just past as well.

 I was thinking of him as I drove home snuggled in with these professional drivers ... we were tearing it up at about 5mph.  Plenty of time to think.
I did pretty good until right at bed time.  I was thankful to be home in my own bed.  I was thinking that as nice as it felt there between the cotton sheets that one more night in a hospital room listening to him breathe would be ... nice.  God doesn't hear that as a prayer, I'm sure, as sure as I am that He catches our tears (though to what purpose I do not attempt a guess).  Then what happened?  I was alone in the dark, remembering, and basically feeling sorry for myself, and  feeling sad for how difficult life can be.  Just then a msg popped up illuminating my phone on the side table and it said, "Thinking of you.  Big hugs.  The 'firsts' are hard.  Know you are loved sweet friend."  And I cried just a little bit.  Sometimes it feels like even God has forgotten. But God didn't forget.  And my old friend helped me see that.  Pretty sweet.

That's why I'm not big on feelings.  Feelings feel real, but can be so misleading.

Quite frankly, I am exhausted by this dying stuff.  For me the gratitude exercise that Ms. Voskamp has so eloquently encouraged us towards ... is the only antidote I can think of for the fatigue of this time.


Today I saw a big white bird skimming the surface of the water.  And a former student texted about his "real" job coming up.  I cooked breakfast today and I love doing that.  (It was a frittata of sorts.)  Delicious.

My husband just sent a note - 12 to 24 hours left.  That's how a life sometimes ends.  

Pretty sure there are lessons for us all there.  The there being seeing time run out. 

Thinking about being thankful for those moments which seem to fall in the darkness 

like shimmering pennies. 

110/1000

Thankful for the ministry of Hospice.

The sadness of saying goodbye is softened by knowing that the last few days, hours, minutes are cushioned in comfort.

Mother-in-law laboring with her passage.

Figuring Life Out - One Thousand Gifts

Ann Voskamp's blog

Walked around Austin on Saturday with One (who is always so much fun).  So much fun. We started out with brunch and I enjoyed a grapefruit brûlée and the cocktail which was recommended by a lady in the nail salon several months ago -a Negroni. I was surprised to see it on their menu and enjoyed sampling it. The grapefruit was cool - they didn't pre-separate the segments and it was served with a neat little serrated spoon. A kitchen sized blow torch seems like such a fun little extravagance!
I guess living in a Southern Baptist home has leaned me away from the brunch cocktail so that was different and probably memorable. I am conscience of collecting memories, which is weird, but nonetheless ... . Shared time is especially valued by me.  It seems the greatest luxury to have time alone, even in a crowd, with my adult children.

The walk in beer cooler at a nearby grocery store was full of interesting labels and names - never been a beer drinker but way back in the day, I did join in with the attempt to sing our track coaches crazy with the  99 bottles of beer on the wall chant during long late night bus rides home after meets. Beer seems to be evolving. The visual on that silly old song had only one label on all the bottles!

We browsed around through several furniture shops.  My son is very sure of his taste in home furnishings and he definitely doesn't like sales people coming up to help him along.  It was a treat to share the day with him.  I am very much aware of how quickly time moves along and runs out, suddenly it often seems.
More then ever before, the fragility of life is on my mind.

I can't remember if I mentioned spending a few days with my mother-in-law in the hospital last week.

It is interesting to see that she has retained the memory of her two sons, her absolute need to assert her expectations, and almost nothing else.  I mean, her brain scan compared to one done a few months ago shows progressive brain atrophy, how does she hold on to the overt bossiness?  The ER doctor suggested she be discharged with a hospice referral (not my call so I deferred that decision until the guys can put their heads together).  He said every time a patient in her condition comes to the hospital it's like slicing a piece of them away ... meaning, I think, during the process of what hospitals have to do, perhaps more is lost then what can be gained.  She had stopped eating, drinking, was refusing her meds, wouldn't or couldn't speak and was confused (and frightened I thought) when I first saw her in the ER, it had been so for the previous two days the care giver informed me.  They, the hospital staff, were unable to find an infection, nor did her blood work indicate any treatable concern.  She wasn't  clinically dehydrated (I don't know how that is established), wasn't running a fever, her blood sugar levels weren't throwing up any red flags.  Her blood pressure fluctuated between really high and even higher. They were unable to get an IV started after she pulled out the one the ambulance guys had gotten started.  Not to be morbid, but I was thinking ahead to how to best handle arrangements with both of her boys away. One of them is out of the country and incommunicado until mid November, the other is just not here, no where near here, away working.  It's difficult to communicate the true situation (as you see it) over the phone.  I snapped a few pics (to send) which felt somehow disrespectful but did help with the thousand word thing.   She was admitted for observation with essentially "nothing wrong (save skipping the BP meds) and clearly wishing to be done with the whole thing".  That's what I think. Upstairs we went.  I was exhausted by, first the drive, then the intensity of the situation.  I asked them to try another IV suggesting maybe down by her feet.  That, turns out, is an automatic no-go with a diabetic patient.  I know practically nothing about diabetes. I even have to rely on spell check to get the word right.  After several pain-filled attempts, they were able to get an IV going with a slow drip to re-hydrate her.  The next morning I asked the rounding doctor if she could get her something comparable to the "home meds" through the bag.  I don't know why that wasn't possible, but they did grind them up and let me feed them to her with jello which she was able to swallow. Pretty soon she was looking slightly less corpse-like and speaking again.  Later she was actually somewhat coherent.  Like my mother, the awareness of being unable to go to the bathroom to go to the bathroom as a HUGE source of agitation for her and therefore the rest of the floor.  As soon as she was physically able to move her legs over the edge of the hospital bed it was ON.  Poor baby.  I didn't feel that it would be very responsible of me to let her fall out of bed.  I sorted through possible ways to explain that to my husband (everyone of them sounded like I decided to let her cross the expressway w/o even holding her hand just to let her see how not well it would work out).  I asked for the rails to be put up - you have to ask for that now because it can be seen as restraint.  I didn't know that.  It seems like common sense to me.  I also asked for the bed alarm which was more for me in case I dozed off. Once she worked out the fact that a sideways sprawl over the edges would not render an escape path, she spent a good deal of her time slowly working her way down towards the end of the bed where the rails could not prevent a determined exit ... and every time she was attended to by the nurses, working together, we would move her back up towards the top of the bed (and she'd begin towards her goal yet again).  I admired her single minded perseverance (apparently one's will is an actual source of physical strength) and it made me smile that her first complete sentence was a disdainful "You are in my territory" said as I gently lifted her dangling foot back up in to the bed.  Territorial to the end, that's her.  I wonder how it is possible to "remember" who we are.  I wonder how what is remembered is "selected" by a decaying brain.  FITBIT has me burning about 400 calories after the daily reset but before I really start moving for the day.  Her caloric intake is practically non existent now.  I wonder how the brain chooses to fight for flight when there's no apparent source for renewing energy.  Having the PT lady come in and help her to standing and a shuffle around the bed really took the sap out of her.  By time I drove her back to her memory care facility, got her to the comfy chair in her room, and turned over her care once again to the charge nurse there I felt that we were back to where this adventure began.  It is a matter of time.  If I were making the choices for her,  I would have just brought her home with me.  I do not think I know best.  I remind myself that this situation was the situation she chose for herself when she was still quite competent.  I can understand that decision being honored.

When I am unable to remember, not only these people, but the specific moments of these pictures ... two things; first, why would I care to continue to live (what is "my" life without these memories and the many memories that were shared with my people) and what will I remember?  What happens when you forget who you love? If you can't remember that, how can anything else matter?  And, I think there is a tragedy  in perceiving insult when the opposite intention is being expressed.  I am glad that she is unable to pick up on that, because it is less gracious then she would want to behave if she were choosing rather then acting on instinct. 

I think, I hope, that I am activity constructing an "old me" who I would like by how I choose to interact with people while I am still able to choose.  I hope I am etching the habits into those last few neurons that I'd like to have at the end of my days.  I hope I'm not a stinker. I would like for my last days to be less difficult for the people who love me.  Mostly, if I live long enough to forget where I am and how I got there, I hope I'll remember the joy(s) of loving these five people especially.  My husband says I am best able (temperamentally) to tend to his mother and maybe that is true, but I'm not the best person to be there for her. She needs someone, one of her sons, who she remembers. Someone she has let in not someone feels she needs to keep out, someone she remembers she loves.  Anything less then that seems empty to me.  

It does seem strange to me that we think it's right to select length rather than quality of life. I am afraid that we aren't very conscious of spending our time on what makes life meaningful on a personal level.  I'm saying, if I knew I had X  amount of days left, how would I really want to spend them?  Thinking about that isn't about dying, it's about living.  What feels like the best life? Just walking around with someone I love seemed like a perfect day to me.  When I can't do stuff like that, it's going to get pretty tedious.  When I can't remember those days I think I'd rather not hang around.  I don't want to be here when my favorite thing is orange jello.

It is raining here today!  Reacquainting with Texas weather is like skateboarding down a steep dirt bike trail, you don't know quite what to expect but you're certain it's going to be intense.  Samson doesn't have "a spot" worked out inside the house yet.  He roams. I am confident that he won't do outside business inside while I am away today, but I would prefer to let him out before I go.  He moves from one piece of furniture to the next like goldilocks in the three bear's house.  He usually keeps an eye on me from the back patio while I sleep.  Last night I woke up several times with him beside my bed smelling my breathe or some dog thing like that.  It's weird to wake up eyeball to eyeball with a dog who outweighs you.  At four a loud noise in the living room startled me awake and jumped me out of bed.  I opened the glass door and let him out.  Pretty sure he saw something out there and instinctively responded by hurling himself towards it realizing too late - the glass.  No harm done. I suspect a raccoon was after his food bowl.
Today I will brave the storms to meet my dermatologist  appointment.  I have a couple of yucky spots on my shoulder.  Of course I am concerned that it may be cancer.  It's funny - up till last year I've gone through life never thinking of cancer in my health picture.  Now, I do.  Gotta check these things out.

 - later -


Braving the storms didn't really work out!  That picture is of our next door neighbor's driveway.
 
The doctor's office called offering a courtesy cancellation because they've had so many no-shows today. People are reporting really bad traffic on the interstate.  I think I could have made it if it stayed about like it was in the maps app, with this rain it won't.  People don't slow down much for rain until they suddenly stop.

All that each person is, 
and experiences, 
and shall never experience, 
in body and mind, 
all these things are differing expressions of himself and of one root, 
and are identical: 
and 
not one of these things 
nor one of these persons 
is ever quite to be duplicated, 
nor replaced, 
nor has it ever quite had precedent: 
but 
each is a new and incommunicably tender life, 
wounded in every breath 
and almost as hardly killed as easily wounded: 
sustaining, 
for a while, 
without defense, 
the enormous assaults of the universe. 
~ James Agee

Soup!

New favorite soup recipe:

1T olive oil
3-1/2 oz. bacon (pieces)
1T fennel seed
1 red onion, peeled and diced
4 carrots, peeled and diced
1/2 fennel bulb diced
3 cloves garlic, sliced thin
1t red pepper flakes
2 x 14 oz. cans cannellini beans
       (aka white kidney beans)
3 (or more) Cups chicken stock
1 Parmesan rind (I minced mine and left it in)
7 oz. kale




We were surprised (and delighted) with how delicious this soup is.  I will double the recipe next time I prepare it so that I don't have half a fennel bulb to figure out what to do with.  It was served with a nice walnut pesto.  1-2 cups of arugula, lemon zest, garlic, walnuts (I used about 1 C)finely grated parmesan (I used about 1 cup) and enough nice olive oil to make it work ... all in the food processor

Back to the soup:  Put chopped bacon and fennel seeds in pot of already hot oil until the bacon begins to render fat.  Add fresh vegetables and red pepper flakes - sauté to al dente. Rinse and place one can of beans in the food processor with "some" chicken stock - pulse to smooth.    Add to pan with the other can of rinsed beans and the rest of your stock.  I like broth-y soups so I used more stock then you might prefer.   Cover and simmer for about thirty minutes then add chopped kale for another few minutes (to soften).   Serve with pesto dollop.  So good.
Next time I prepare this I think I will cook the bacon before hand and include it later in the process (but use the rendered fat) ... I selected an uncured Black Forrest thick cut for this.

The "nothin'" much that is up

 Sammy and I took the chance of getting rained on when we went for a walk Thursday evening.  Finally rain!  Haven't seen real rain here since maybe May.  Hurricane Patricia made landfall in Mexico last night and here, some one thousand miles NE we enjoy only the benefits.  Thankfully, for those more closely involved, the storm weakened quickly once it made landfall. I have seen hurricanes with one fourth the winds they were projecting blow trees over and rip highway signage right off of the overhead structures (that I saw only afterwards)!

 

 This is a picture of Sam "seeing" a cow for the first time.  There are several in a pasture that we passed on our walk.  Usually I walk the trails around here but decided a walk in the neighborhood would be a nice change.  He really wanted to pull through the fence and would have if I hadn't insisted "no"!  The cows seemed to be somewhat interested in him as well. If he comes up missing from the yard sometime soon that will be the first place I look.

These pictures show couple of the houses in this area, my two favorites of the neighboring homes.

I can see that architecturally they are very similar.  If we bought a house rather then built a house, I would prefer something like these.  It feels kinda weird to be renting.  It's like being in a holding pattern without a specific (or even known possibilities) landing place to plan for.  I notice how fortunate I have been to never have experienced the strangeness of that situation before now. 

We do like this area very much.  I, for one, wake up aware of how very grateful I am to be "home" every day.  I do like Texas.  My daughter is still adjusting.  She has done admirable well under the circumstances!  She does not share my affinity for Texas.  Sammy and the cats have never been happier though.

  

Saw this this week and thought of old friends less present.

We get too busy for each other -  busy with more pressing issues and friendships suffer. 

 This is one of the hanger walls where I work now.  I like that the "tails" are hanging in honor of so many special days.  Each shirt is personalized with an individual quip.  Very sweet.

And finally, this, taken this morning from where I sit sipping coffee.  Sammy's feet aren't as muddy as they appear to be.  The floor was lightly tracked last night when he came in.  Both cat's opted to sleep out, but were delighted to see the door open early this morning.  He ignores them (mostly).

My friend, H was really fit when she was younger, back when how she wanted to spend her time was what mattered, back before she starting having babies. Stuff changes when the focus shifts from here to there ... whichever there we chose as we ... grow up.  Sometimes that doesn't happen - the shift - but it seems to me that when it doesn't the person becomes less and less interesting as they grow old.
So ... H was crazy buff and now fitness isn't her top priority.  She misses those killer abs.  

That's what we were talking about yesterday when I was trying to describe how it "feels" to fly now.  I miss, really miss, the crispness. The smooth crispness.  I miss "not thinking" about execution.  I'm like Schroeder without a toy piano ... my hands seem to not know where to go. (lol)

Gosh. 

My body is still capable of the tasks, I'm just out of sorts, and wondering if I'll ever be good at it again, if it's worth it.  And ... that curiosity stuff is about the larger picture.  Flying isn't that important to me anymore.  Waking up to something interesting and challenging is though. And, I do love the idea of participating in someone's aviation journey.  (And soaring ... I forgot about how cool that is for a minute or two there.) I'm curious about what God has in mind for me.  I'd like to cooperate with that.

H was talking about how that sort of thing is with God. You can sometimes really "feel" a connection.  You can feel not alone.  It's like HE is with us.  You think if you keep on doing whatever you were doing that the relationship will just keep on getting better and better.  (And that usually means "it" feels better and better.  She laughed when I said some of the contemporary music,umm, worship music, seems like spiritual masterbation to me.)  I'm saying, from personal observation of my own life, that a spiritual relationship is like any other relationship, even great relationships wax and wane as people go through life together.  I like that God assures us that He doesn't change.  It makes the relationship ever so slightly more knowable.  

It doesn't rain much here. I don't know much about trees at all.  I did do a tiny bit of research on trees in general during the summer because it's interesting how they work/live and a bit different then I thought, but over all ... I'm casual about trees. I have observed this though; over in Alabama trees grow really fast, they seem to thrive.  Over here they are basically scrawny.  They really have to work at getting the nutrients needed to hold their own and there are relatively small trees around here that are really old.  You can easily see the growth rings on Alabama trees.  Tree crops are all over the place and they cut 'em down, process 'em, and send 'em on to Lowe's still wet.  Here, the growth rings are so dense that you can't quite see them.  Really.  These trees are tough, determined if trees can be so described, resilient because the environment demands it!  I didn't see one single field of trees when I flew last week.  I saw a lot of freshly plowed (assuming corn) fields dark with beautiful rich soil.

big old tree stump ... cut down a long time ago
you can see the rings, but not as easily as some other trees

C - hiking in Tennessee last week

yes they are scrawny trees
on my little day hike last week
taken when her pic came to me

and this, just because those little geese
and the duck are fun to see

Send some rain, would You send some rain?
'Cause the earth is dry and needs to drink again
And the sun is high and we are sinking in the shade

Would You send a cloud, thunder long and loud?
Let the sky grow black and send some mercy down
Surely You can see that we are thirsty and afraid

But maybe not, not today
Maybe You'll provide in other ways
And if that's the case

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude
For lessons learned in how to thirst for You
How to bless the very sun that warms our face
If You never send us rain

Daily bread, give us daily bread
Bless our bodies, keep our children fed
Fill our cups, then fill them up again tonight

Wrap us up and warm us through
Tucked away beneath our sturdy roofs
Let us slumber safe from danger's view this time

Or maybe not, not today
Maybe You'll provide in other ways

And if that's the case

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude
A lesson learned to hunger after You
That a starry sky offers a better view
If no roof is overhead
And if we never taste that bread

Oh, the differences that often are between
Everything we want and what we really need

So grant us peace, Jesus, grant us peace
Move our hearts to hear a single beat
Between alibis and enemies tonight

Or maybe not, not today
Peace might be another world away

And if that's the case

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude
For lessons learned in how to trust in You
That we are blessed beyond what we could ever dream
In abundance or in need

And if You never grant us peace
But, Jesus, would You please

~Nichole Nordeman 

GRATITUDE lyrics

I'm thinking about the idea she is expressing.  That attitude is easier said then practiced.  Better and better ...  seems better.

Someone expressed the wish of seeing everyone as God see's them(us ... you  ... me).  That would be amazing.  I wish for that miracle of insight sometimes.  Wouldn't it be so amazingly cool if we could have a tiny peek at what God was "making" in/of us for eternity?    

curiosity

"Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back"

 

 

balance

image via PINTEREST

wild flowers along the trail
reaching through the dry branches of a fallen tree

Sammy ~ off lead in the spillway

the tower around here

I flew yesterday.  First flight in almost two years.  Ummm ... I am rusty.

The flight, with the chief, consisted of departure, transition out to an envelope of open air, slow flight, stall recovery series, steep turns, back in for three laps. 1.2 ... 168 bucks with the employee discount.
It wasn't fun.
I can't say I enjoyed any part of it.   The best part was having it completed.  It might have been fun - I hoped it would be and in spite of the "rustiness" it should have been.
I actually wanted to cry when I got in my car afterwards.  I think for me the worst part must have been seeing the chief's fingers impatiently drumming (instructional fee was included in the flight).  It took longer then it maybe should have to get the preflight done.  I've never removed a canvas blanket from a plane and the wind was trying to whip the buckles back into the plane.  I spent awhile trying to find the fuel strainer outlet so I could trace the line back to where to "pull" so I carefully crawled around under the fuselage looking - only to find it not there but easily accessible as a right side drain.  I also didn't not find the hydraulic fluid check point which turned out to be unscrew the cap and look in there.  In other planes I've flown a dipstick basin out of view in the cabin was the go to location in the line.  My questions were met with  ... basically, eye rolling ... .  Sometimes it goes that way with people, chops busters.  I've been through it before in life, I just don't know if I want to do it again in this situation.  I don't know if what I want out of it is worth what it requires to be put in to it.  Becoming proficient isn't the problem at all, I knew it would take some time.  All the basic stuff was on point.  I'll spend the money on the flight time - I expected to.  The things I'm considering are:  if I want to spend any time instructing  (and the max there would be three mornings a week generally) do I want it to be where I'm currently at?  Do I want to instruct in a plane that I have flown not much at all and don't have any real affinity for.  I truly dislike the big flap lever ... practically yanking with the left  hand whilst delicately nudging the yoke forward with the right to smooth out the lift bump ... I have to lean forward to grab the lever and then seat belt cuts in to my neck.  The plane is not ergonomically friendly for my body type.

I'm praying about it.  All of it.  I want to choose wisely for what the next several years may look like. It would be nice to settle in to a routine that's interesting, challenging, peaceful ... fun maybe (even though just a little bit of fun is perfectly fine with me).

It was sad to fly over here with out being able to do that with Tommy.  It's one of the things we planned on doing.  Probably the grief of that was on the back burner some during the flight.  Anybody who knew me would know that a first flight back, and especially in Texas, after last year,  might include a little bit of a "thing" for me.  And ... I know they say you gotta let go of what you hoped for to make room for what comes next.  I'm making good progress there I think.

Well, that dream, the part I remembered, was a little creepy.  Glad that's not a reoccurring one!
Lately I have been dreaming about my family in pleasant ways.  The dreams have been about nothing except seeing them in my dream.  I dreamt of my older brother a few nights ago ... it was like I was standing at a window just looking at him.  He looked good.  I smiled to see him.  It felt like joy ... just joy.  I haven't seen him in my mind's eye for a very long time and I loved that I could see him so clearly.  My fourth child, C, really favors him.  I hadn't noticed that before.  It was sweet.

Been neglecting to make notes here ... just busy.  Each day I walk at least five miles.  And I'm starting to work out with kettle bells (just starting ... my former AME was a huge fan of kettle bell workouts) ... yoga mat hasn't been unrolled since we've been here. Some of that would be helpful.

I have been a person who will step up to the plate.  It is how I do life I think.

Part of "leaving" instructional work behind might seem (to me) like I just quit because it was hard ... and I didn't have to do it.  I don't want to feel that way.  Just reflecting back over my life,  I do think it might have been helpful to cut bait on things that weren't working for me.  I think what I think of as tenacity, and value as a trait in myself and others, may actually have not been (always) great for me.  That's part of what I'm thinking about.  Like - if you're consistently not getting back what you're putting in to a relationship or an activity, stopping it doesn't make you a quitter (loser).  

I did love to fly.  Do I still want to put in what is required to fly now? Do I still "love it"? 

And, along those lines, metaphorically, or as an analogy, I watched my brother fight what was absolutely going to be a fight to his death.  He was a fighter.  Some people are just warriors and that's how they do life ... they attack obstacles.  I get it.  I supported that for him  because I understood that to do less was to die before the body was done ... his regrets were that he gave up on some important things (people) too soon and it was important to him to be someone who fought even when giving up would be lots easier.  So he chose to fight the good fight.  Looking back on it I wonder if it might have been better to just go to the beach with his wife and enjoy whatever good days were left. 

Every body stops flying eventually.

From this window I can see ... .  Pretty great. 

• "Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good." ~ Vaclav Havel

 My little brother expressed "who" he was as he fought to hold on to hope.  It was what he wanted, how he wanted it.  

For me, I'm just trying to figure out what's "good".  I'm perfectly willing to work for something because it is good.  What's "good" for now just isn't that obvious to me.  

"There are thousands of thoughts

lying within a man 

that he does not know

till he takes up the pen and writes."

~ William Makepeace Thackeray

"Have a heart that never hardens,
and a temper that never tires,
and a touch that never hurts."

~ Charles Dickens

"If you aren't in over your head how do you know how tall you are?"

~T.S.Eliot

Arrowheads and worms

Sometimes I wonder if losing them will be ... harder in December then it is now ... or last weekend ... or ... .  I really want to leave last year completely behind and here we are in October of this year and sometimes ... .

Sometimes I talk to my husband about where I would prefer to be buried ... what I would do if I found out I have cancer sometimes I think about it.  I dreamed about my mother, or really it was just "a mother",  as she laid her head on my shoulder, I looked down at my arm and tiny, as small as a hair tiny, worms were rising out of my arm like a time lapse of seedlings sprouting in fertile soil.  They seemed to be as dense as the follicles ... yuck.  I picked up a fresh fluffy white hand towel in the dream and scrubbed at the worms and dirt dark as a freshly plowed cotton field fell from the cloth.  As I watched it and wondered how a clean towel could be holding clods of earth I noticed the worms sprouting from my other arm.  Then I woke up.

Creepy.   I think the dream was about dying.  I associate worms with dying or dead bodies.  Job.  The Book of JOB.
I don't have any idea who evangelist John Weaver is but he is credited with (I guess sermon notes) notes I found on line . The Theology of Worms! Job 25:6; Ps. 22:6

Isaac Watt's hymn: Alas and Did my Saviour Bleed

"Alas, and did my Saviour bleed and did my Sovereign die,

Would He devote that Sacred Head for such a worm as I."

The hymn, one of my dad's favorite hymns, was cited in Mr. Weaver's notes.
My dad taught me how to think of death ...I wrote about that  here.

Sometimes the pain of it, the grief, just sneaks up on me.  I feel guilty about it because I have so many very precious people ... alive ... in my life.  And I am trying to be very much alive myself.

This morning we walked up on a heron again.  It was fishing in the river at the bridge near our house. We almost expect to catch sight of it as we approach the area.  One of our cats hangs out there in the morning too.  It was not a surprise to see him coming out of the tall grass that borders the river.  It makes me smile just thinking of it ... of both the cat and the bird.  Mt husband says the walk is like going out to gather the day's manna ... a gift from God to start the day.  (Coincidentally, a "worm" note there. In the manna idea, there were instructions to not over gather ... to stay in the provisions of the day.  I think the worm thing is on my mind because of the graves ... the wasting away of the physical presences ... they are gone and I am so sad about that.)

My brother was genius at finding arrowheads.  I bet there are tons of arrowheads along that trail.  Really.  I never even thought to ask him how to find them.

ps ... sent text message to Tommy's wife asking for some of his arrowheads sometime ... a week later no response yet.

Probably this isn't as odd a thing as it seems to be to me. Probably goats ride around in pretty nice trailers pulled by the very nice Ford F-350 pickup truck all the time.  Probably just out joy riding - they seemed perfectly content.  I wonder what the deal is with goats around here.  dummies.com - the-benefits-of-raising-goats  There you go.  These guys exuded pampering so I doubted they were on their way to the meat maker - pets probably.

I've been working lately.  Did the second class medical which is required to flight instruct.  Next week I plan on flying some.  I'll get a flight review and It will be good to get some flying time in this area.  I'm reviewing the POH and an auxiliary manual specifically about the Piper Warrior(s)/Archer. Have previously  logged a bit of time in a Cherokee 6, an Archer and a Warrior (the one with 150 hp engine which seemed underpowered to me and apparently to someone else because they moved to a 160 hp engine fairly quickly it seems.)  There are things that I like about the Piper products.  A low wing is fun and looks more like an airplane wants to look I think.  I don't like the one door up front for the pilots. I'm not a fan of crawling over the seat.  I also like the ease of flaps input in the Cessna's  - a big ole lever seems a bit much.  Over all, they are sleeker looking - low wings.  My favorite:  Pilatus PC 12 NG

Here's their high wing - Pilatus PC 6 Porter

I

I haven't seen one in real life but I'm looking.  I do love the Cessna Caravan for rougher stuff which is what this guy looks like he's ready for.  I bet these are all over Alaska.  

I have yet to buy my Texas lottery ticket.  Lol.  

The  PC 12 NG is lovely.

That's not what I'm flying.

But ... the air is the same!  

(Pilates pictures found on Pilatus site.)