Tag Archives: God

Contemplation, Family, Life, lifecoaching, Native American Women, Sundance

To Whom Much is Given…

I tend to measure my relationship with my Creator against my relationship with my children.  We say in our prayers “Heavenly Father” or “Grandfather” and that is how I look at my personal relationship.  When I come to a bump or have a query I think about how I respond to my children as a mother and I imagine that this is the way my Father responds to me.

I have a really hard time not yelling at people who mean well but who give others who are standing in pain what sounds like sage advice when they say to them “God is just testing you”.  Folks, I have never once tested my children.  I do not recall ever being tested by my own mother.  I did not have to prove that I loved my mom or dad.  I do not test my own children to see if they really love me.  I think…why would anyone say something so cruel to a child (of God) who is in pain or confused about a situation?

I have said many times “to whom much is given, much is expected”.  I said it again last night.  I stand watching a loved one bear what looks to others like a huge burden and this is the reminder that was whispered into my ear.  As I wrote those words out I knew that if he was not “given much” he would not have any real understanding of what I was saying to him.  But I also knew in my heart that these were the words he needed to hear.

All is not lost.  He is not being tested to see how strong he is.  If he were not given much to begin with, none of this would be happening near him.  He would not be expected to know what to do, he would not be able to continue to praise God for all of his blessings.  He would not already have the answer to his prayers.  The Tree would not be calling him into the circle.  The heartbeat of the people would not be calling him to sing again.

I started thinking, even last night before I went to bed, about the number of people I know who have been “given much”.  I was really amazed.  There are a bunch.  It turns out, at least in my life, that it is not rare for me to see amongst my family and friends many who have been “given much”.  There are some who have much love, much intelligence, much wisdom, much beauty, much charisma, much of so many abilities.  I smiled because I realized that it was no wonder that my own life ran so smoothly and evenly keeled, I mean, look at all these wonderful people I know who have been given so much and whether they know it or not; giving back what they have freely, as was given to them.

I was still thinking about this morning.  This past 30 days has been rough on my family.  But this is a family that was given much and we know that much is expected from us in return.  We get tired, we get weepy, we get sad but we are never without hope, truth or love.

No, my beautiful family, we are not being tested.  We are being given the opportunity to show the world where our strength comes from and Whose children we really are!

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Contemplation, death, Family, Life, Me, Native American Women

Rock and Roll Payday Memories

I spent the day on the road. Total miles logged was 230. When you spend that much time alone you have a tendency to think about things that normally you do have time to think about. Today I spent my time thinking about my parents. There are just certain things that trigger memories and then when I am driving I have time to let those thoughts keep running.

My mother died 3 years ago. Her passing was not easy. She was ill and she had suffered a heart attack. She lingered for two weeks in a hospital that was far from her home. She was not alone, one of her daughters and her husband were there with her. My father died several years prior to her passing. His passing was not easy. He suffered complications of diabetes after a surgery. He was not alone, two of his daughters, his sisters and several of his nieces and nephews were there when he passed.

I think of this and I am glad to have been an intimate part of that passing. I wish that I had been able to be there for my mother as well but I am glad that the same sister who stood with me while my father passed, stood by my mothers’ side as well. I can think of no greater expression of love than to be present at the passing of a loved one. To hold that hand and to say “I love you” or “thank you” or whatever is on your mind to say at that last moment.

The first thing I do is to plug in the ipod and cue up Janis Joplin. I play the entire uploaded album as loud as my factory installed speakers will allow while singing along with Janis and I smile because she was one of my mother’s favorite musicians. The I look for a convenience store, any one will do as long as they sell Payday candy bars. I buy the biggest one I can find and I eat the whole candy bar, savoring every bite and I smile because this was my dad’s favorite candy bar.

While I complete these little rituals I have established for myself I wonder about my parents. I wonder where they are? I wonder what important works they are working on these days? I wonder which of their heathen children they are watching closely today?

I hear so many people lament over the loss of a loved one that spend so much of their lives espousing their belief in a Creator and an afterlife that promises to be so much better than this life we live on this world but when push comes to shove…what they actually believe is far from what they have espoused. The absolute lack of faith explains so much to me.

For me, blaring Janis Joplin and wolfing down a Payday candy bar are the traditions that I hope I am passing down to my own daughter who someday will face these things. Someday she will think of me. I trust that she will just play the music she knows I love and eat a candy bar that was my favorite and smiles knowing that my new adventure has begun. I hope she wonders what I am up to and I trust she knows that I am having a blast.

She will then take everything that I have given her and pass those things on to her daughter and that makes me so happy. I know deep in my heart that my parents are happy about this as well, whatever they are doing today.

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Contemplation, Life, Native American Women

Mirror, mirror…

I found out that a young man I know will spend the next 45 years of his life in prison. I am troubled. My exact words to another friend was “I hate seeing our young men suffer so much”.

I understand the penalty for the crime. I understand why a crime like this was committed. I understand why supporters of this young man are so very upset. These are not my problem, these things I understand.

I have said to more than one person, do not take anything I tell you as gospel. Take everything I tell you to prayer. Ask God, ask Him is I am right. Ask Him if I am telling you the truth. I say this to people because most people have become so very lazy, so much like sheep….just following along with what everyone else is doing without thinking for themselves. I find this to be troubling, to say the least.

My problem is trying to understand why our young men choose to suffer so much when it is needless. There are choices to be made and all choices you make bear consequences you must pay. Some choices are easy and some choices are right. Unfortunately the easy choice is not always the right choice. Often times the right choice is most difficult and that’s where the thinking ends, no further exploration of consequences. The end result? Rarely is it the happy ending you were hoping for.

My next question was “what can we do to help?”. My friend said, “I wish prayer was the answer”. I liked that answer, he was honest. Prayer obviously is not “the answer”. if it were then all of our friends and family would be happy and healthy and rich and full of life. There is a missing key, I think.

Yes, you know what I am going to say….making the right choice. That part is on you. I know that if I want my life to be happy, if I want to be healthy then I must make those choices that end in those consequences. If I want a different end then those things I mentioned then all I have to do is make different choices. So simple. Please notice that I did not say ‘so easy’….because it is not.

I told my friend that there was one thing we could do immediately and consistently and that is to be an example of not suffering so looks like. Be an example to others of what making good choices looks like. Be the mirror for someone who is looking for that one person who is not paying consequences of bad decisions.

The good thing about being a willing example is that it does not mean you are perfect or that you think you are perfect. It simply means that you are ok with others looking closely at your life (today, not your past life) and seeing that you are making choices that bear consequences you are proud to bear.

I cannot make choices for you, as much as you would like for that to happen. I cannot bear consequences caused by your bad choices, those are yours to own. But I will be an example that you can look at when you wonder what happens if you make the right choice over the easy choice. I will continue to pray for you so that as you make your choices you know that you are not alone when facing those hard choices.

I know that I am not perfect and I am just fine with that assessment of me but I do like what I see when I look into my mirror.

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Life

Observing Men

I was thinking about this today…whether you were called to be a medicine man or you just want to be a medicine man really doesn’t matter to me. Of the two, neither is more important than the other. Of the two, one is more difficult to do than the other. I know men who have and or are doing one or the other and so I know this to be true.

Let’s say that I want to be a doctor. I understand from the time I decided to become a doctor that my school work matters so that I can be accepted to the best college. I know that the college work I do matters for the residency that I am looking for to come to fruition. I work my butt off for many years because I have a goal. I am driven in every area of my life based on the choice that I have made. It is the same for a man who wants to be a medicine man. The desire to be that means something. I have never known God to turn down a willing spirit, a willing servant. I think that any man who want to serve the People in this way will be a good medicine man.

If you have a calling to be that, a calling to be a preacher, a calling to be anything else that’s all it is…a calling. You still have to make the choice. This is the downfall of many men who have had strong callings to service. They feel the call in their spirits but they spend a lot of time and energy running from that call. They would rather drink or do drugs or run around doing anything but answering that call. The times that they do follow and act on the call bring amazing results to the people who they are called to help but instead of answering the call, they spend most of their time running from the call. A man can waste most of his life running from his calling. If and when he does answer then truly amazing things can happen.

You would think that having the calling would be the easy road but obviously making a choice of the path you want to follow is easier. This is not to say that men who have a calling and answer that call are not successful. Those are blessed men who work hard at passing on God’s blessing to others.

I see both…men who are called and men who just want to serve. Both do wonderful works. Each path is different and neither is better than the other. Somedays these are the things I think about…

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death, Family, Life, Me

Been a Slow Day

Yeah, I’m lying. My days are never slow. It just seemed that when it comes to writing I have been procrastinating and since I don’t admit to being a procrastinator I decided to say it has been slow.

I had been thinking that we had to take time out of regular life to bury my mother-in-law. She lost her fight with Alzheimer’s. But I realized that I was thinking wrong…taking the time to bury a loved one is part of regular life. It is no different than when a new life comes into the family.

We moved her into our home a year ago, when it became just way too expensive to have her continue to live in an assisted living home. My husband quit his job to stay home and take care of her.

Our lives are busy, have been busy for many years now. Our children are all grown and gone which left us plenty of time to do other things. The busyness did not slow down once she moved in. We had to rearrange who did what when but we continued to stay busy.

Several friends offered to help us during these months so that we did not just unplug from life. They would come over and sit with us and they would send us out to dinner while they sat with her to make sure that she stayed safe. Our friends were and continue to be wonderful blessings in our lives.

Then the fateful day was approaching and we had hospice come in to help us out with those final details. We called all of those friends who had spent so much time with us. We wanted to make sure that they had to opportunity to say goodbye. They had taken the time to become her family and they deserved the chance to be there in the end…if they so desired.

She passed and we started the process of fulfilling her last wishes. One of the friends come over one morning for coffee and she sat in tears thanking me for allowing her to be part of the entire process. She had been sheltered her entire life from death and she did not know what it felt like to say goodbye to a loved one in such a beautiful way. She and her (then) fiancé came into the process with us. They are married now and begin their lives as a family with this beautiful experience. I am happy to have had the opportunity to share.

I am constantly amazed at the people that I know who claim to be spiritual in their everyday life and when something like this happens they fall apart, not only falling apart but getting angry at God for the loss. I don’t get it. How do you profess to believe in such things as an afterlife and then get angry at God when a loved one gets to go home?

My children, my husband, my brother-in-law, myself…all sad to be sure…but also all very happy that Mom-Grandma was no longer suffering, no longer not knowing who her family is, no longer being alone. She is surrounded now by complete, total, eternal love. I cannot be anything but happy about that…happy for her. We will miss her, we already miss her. We both walk into the bedroom looking for her, still….

We had the traditional burial, her wishes fulfilled. We notified all the family we could of her passing. Now we prepare for her Memorial. This one is for those beautiful friends who gave their hearts to her, claimed her as their own Grandmother for a short time. We will share those stories that we dared not share at the funeral home (she cussed a lot) and we will eat…holy smokes she loved to eat and we will do so in her honor!

And now I have taken the time to sit and write this final chapter in our adventures with her. Now I can stop procrastinating about writing and just get on with my life. I did so without tears (progress).

Who knows? There may be more to write about later, depends on what stories are shared this weekend.

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Uncategorized

She Struggles to the Other Side

Her breathing has become shallow and each breath is labored.  We watch and pray and cry.  For several years we have watched the decline and we have worried about this day and now it is here.  Every hour finds one of us walking into the bedroom and silently watching over her.

Yesterday several of her friends came over to say their good-byes.  She is unaware on so many levels and (we are all hoping) so aware on the most important level of all.  We all hope that our love is able to penetrate the fog that has enveloped her consciousness.  There are tears to be shared all around and then hugs and just all the love that develops when a group of people have decided to call each other ‘family’.

We know that it has been over a year now that she forgot the boys, her deepest memories…all gone now.  It has been even longer than that since she could remember who I was but then, I am the newbie, I have only been in the family for 22 years.  I am OK with that, it has given me the distance to be able to help him watch his mother decline without being an emotional mess myself.

The grandkids all know and they are making visits as they can.  The great-grandkids never had much chance to get to know her like everyone else did.  By the time most of them were born she was already a stranger.  That part makes me sad for the kids.  They will only have our memories to go by now.  Pictures will be important to some and not so important to others.

We, my husband and I, have been crying each day for two weeks now.  We are not done crying yet.  Once we are done with our own tears there will be tears for the rest of the family and the friends who have meant so much to us (and her) in the last year who will all grieve like she was their grandmother too.  We will hug them and smile with them and carry a big box of tissue to help wipe away the tears.

I write today to take the place of some of the tears.  I face my own fears and shortcomings as a daughter-in-law now at the end of her life.  I sit and reflect on our years together and I laugh out loud at some of the arguments and jokes we shared.  I let the tears roll gently down my cheeks as I come to terms with her end here and her new beginning “over there”. 

Our buddy came in last night with his family to sing her some songs to help ease her spirit and to let her know that we are all OK and that she could leave anytime she was ready…not that we are rushing her…everyone just hates to see her hurting.  I stood there crying, listening to the soft beat of the drum and the soothing sound of his voice.  I know that she heard him too.

My husband asked me months ago if the Alzheimer’s  would kill her.  I told him ‘No. her body would give out long before the disease had time to run it’s course’.  That is what we see now…her little body getting tired of fighting.  That is the part we cannot help her with.  All our coaxing and all our prayers cannot give her more strength if she is too tired to fight anymore.  All we can do now is watch her go peacefully with our love to ferry her on.

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Life, Me

My intent is…

Intent. What is my intent? What is your intent? As it turns out, these became very important questions last week. There were about four of us sitting around the outdoor living room I had set up in the wilderness. The boys were all over at the fire enjoying the things boys enjoy when they sit around a campfire laughing their heads off….

I don’t really remember how the conversation got started but somehow we ended up talking about intent. This is one of my favorite subjects. I find that living my life with intent is so much easier then just letting things happen any ol’ way they want. Whether I have a plan or decide to just wing it for the day my intent is what counts.

I put my intent into everything that I do. If I am supervising difficult employees it is my intent to create cooperation. If I am dealing with a behavioral client it is my intent to create peace. Those are simple enough, I am cooperative, I am peaceful, those ways of “being” bring my intent into reality. Somehow this makes my job so much easier. But that is only one aspect of my life. There are other areas that my intent helps me manage what is going on around me. My nephew and I were talking to my husband one evening and we were trying to explain how powerful intent is. How someone can hurt another purposefully if they are aware of their own intent and how they can hurt another if they are unaware of how powerful intent can be. Some people would call this “witchcraft” or “voodoo”, using intent for good or bad but we are all capable of changing the world, our own worlds, with the simple act of intent. You don’t have to study any other ideology or religion to become an expert in using intent.

So this is how our conversation went:

Let me pick up this pretty little stone…let me think about what a really handsome guy you are (even though you are not my guy), let me think about what a wonderfully good time you and I can have…let me think about all of this while I am holding this pretty little stone…now let me gift you with this little stone. Wonder how long it will be before you start thinking about me? Let me pick up this cool stick, let me draw hearts all over it and color those hearts with this red crayon, let me wrap a few strands of my hair around this cool stick and carve some simple little swirls to make it look cool…now let me gift this stick to you. Wonder how long before you start thinking of me? Matter of fact, wonder how long before every time you see a silly little swirls or red heart you automatically remember that silly stick and start thinking of me? Let me cook a meal for you…now let me get really angry at someone else while I am cooking and just continue to cook your lovely meal while I am angrily stirring the pot and making the dessert. Wonder how long it will be before you come down with a wicked case of indigestion?

The girls were amazed, they had never thought of intent in such a negative way. I then explained that intent can go both ways. All intent can be positive as well. You do not have to create a negative situation with intent. The important point of the whole conversation was to remind my friends that intent matters. It always matters. There is really no time that we are not intending something. We are children of God, does that not make us Creators as well? If God said “Let there be light” and there was light how am I any different? If I am his child am I not as capable? Oh true enough, I may not be as experienced with my intent as God is with his…as I have not created light just by speaking it into existence…but I am working on it, I am. I am working to use my intent to better my life and my world. I like peace, I like balance, I like joy…these are things that I intend to create…I’ve been practicing!

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death, Family, Life

As Night Begins to Fall

Her teeth are sitting in the plastic cup beside her bed. Her one good eye is open but unfocused.   She will respond to a silly nickname spoken in love and it doesn’t have to be the same nickname twice; it is the love in your voice she hears and it is the love she responds to, then she is gone again.

The doctor gives her a good prognosis, providing she can survive the surgery. Her mind is not what it used to be, her body is frail despite a good constitution. We kissed her and loved on her and let the tears fall after they wheeled her out of the room.

He remembers walking home for lunch in grade school. She was never a good cook but she was smart enough to know that her little boy thought it was a grand treat to have biscuits with jelly for lunch….

Prayers are for “what ever the Creator has for her”…nothing more.  Now we wait.

He remembers the weekend he decided to run away…out of state to an outdoor rock concert.  He still laughs when he tells the story about how she made his father drive to Michigan to find him…needle in a haystack.  He went home after the concert…she was so angry but happy to have him home.

The minutes tick by, friends come out to sit with us.  It wasn’t too long ago that we sat in the same waiting room with those same friends for that friends’ mother…I guess turnabout is fair play after all.  There are smiles and jokes all around.

I update all the facebook family while we have time.

Time; this is when it runs at its’ slowest…waiting for news…good or bad.  It was only an hour and a half but I swear it felt like six.  I was thinking that I should have brought a hoodie or something, it is 95 degrees outside and cold in the waiting room.  Why is it always cold in the waiting rooms?

The nurse finally calls her name so that family will know.  A quick glance into her eyes tell us much and for the first time since we sat down our shoulders relax and we look into each others eyes, eyebrows raised to ask “good news?”.    He is a good surgeon they say, so we head to the next room to await our consultation.

She won’t remember anything, not the pain, not the hospital food, not the nurses names or faces, not the gentle hands of the surgeons.  We will, we will remember prayers answered and sighs breathed out and a bracing for the next phase of her life…however long that may be….

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Family, Life, Me

Bullfrogs and Butterflies don’t have a problem with it…

I was thinking about change today.  I spent some time remembering when I turned 14 and I was anxiously waiting to morph from a child to a young woman.  I remember putting on my wedding dress, morphing from a single woman to a married woman.  I remember laying on the exam table at the doctor listening to my baby’s heartbeat for the first time, morphing yet again.  There have been so many changes.

My mother, God rest her soul, could not wait to announce to the whole world when I put on my first bra.  I was mortified, she was so proud.  Years later I did the same thing to my own daughter, this time I laughed…at her and at myself.  I got it, finally.

In this world where I choose to live, the non-native world, change is feared.  Change is not taught as a good thing.  Women are lamenting the loss of something that was never meant to be static.  Change is supposed to happen.  My mother celebrated my changing, each and every step, and while I was usually horrified at her for doing so I had to become a mother myself to see what she was so happy about.  When change is happening without regard to scheduling or weather or fashion then life is unfolding as it should.

I am changing yet again….no longer a women who has children at home.  The non-native world might say I was an empty-nester, the traditional world just sees this as part of the grand scheme, normal and worth celebrating.  My body continues to change.  It has been a little strange only in the sense that it has been a long time since I have had to experience major physical changes.  But I have to admit, I am excited and happy about what comes next.  I will celebrate this change even though my own mother is no longer here to celebrate with me.  Even that, time for her to return to her true home, was a celebration for me.  It was, after all, what she taught me was supposed to happen.

These are the things that I taught my own daughter and I trust she will pass them down to her own children when the time comes, our traditions being mostly oral.  I am comfortable with the knowledge that my mother did not waste her time or energy celebrating the changes in my life and that I have not wasted my time or energy either as I celebrated my daughter’s changing life.

I am excited about what new adventures await me as my, yet again, changed life unfolds.

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