Second Best Marigold Hotel Quotes

I cannot rest from travel.
I will drink life to the lees.
All times I have enjoy'd greatly,
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known;
I am a part of all that I have met;
Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things
... from Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson


speaking to something that we all know and should never forget
That every hour brings new things.
---
Two things we can give our children
Roots and wings
and their wonderful families have given them roots and now they can take flight together.


This is what the young make us remember
that in the end, it's all very simple.
That all it takes, is to look into someone's eyes and say,
Yes, this is what I want,
and for them to reply, it's what I want too,
and there is nothing to be afraid of.

-----

I spent 40 years scrubbing floors and the last months of my life as co-manager of a hotel halfway across the world.

You have no idea now what you will become.

Don't try and control it.

Let go.

That's when the fun starts. 

Because as I once heard someone say, 

There's no present like the time

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Seen on a gift keyring on Facebook this morning:

Darling, I may not be your first date, your first kiss, or your first love, and that's fine because, I just WANT ALL OF MY LASTS TO BE WITH YOU.

A New Year

Today is January 7, 2021 and one week of the new year has been spent already. I'm old enough to know that making resolutions doesn't work for me, so I won't. I do write here often, but mostly private writings, to help me make sense of things. I will try to publish those writings which may have value for others, and which are not too personal this year.

2020 was awful for everyone, myself included, but there was much joy mixed with the loneliness and angst. My person became my person, and that is the greatest gift I have ever received, next to my daughter. I retired as I originally planned to do at 65. I decided to move to Beaufort, SC in 2021, which is my happy place, and will make me just minutes away from my confessor, his healthy parish with a full liturgical life, and my person. My person and I have promised to help and take care of each other in our old age, which is upon us already. I have always loved him, but now that we have grown closer... my love and respect for the person he has become simply grows each time we are together. He inspires me to be better than I am.

To move forward this year, I need to get fitter so I can lead the life I want to lead and be a candidate for knee replacement. I also need to do a massive reduction of stuff and sell this house so I can move. I also hope to grow my relationships in and with my new place. That includes my person.

So, it's time to get to work. I squandered week 1 of 2021. I will not squander week 2.

Je suis prest.

From St. Basil the Great

 

Human affairs are fainter than a shadow; more deceitful than a dream. Youth fades more quickly than the flowers of spring; our beauty wastes with age or sickness. Riches are uncertain; glory is fickle. The pursuit of arts and sciences is bounded by the present life; the charm of eloquence, which all covet, reaches but the ear: whereas the practice of virtue is a precious possession for its owner, a delightful spectacle for all who witness it. Make this your study; so you will be worthy of the good things promised by the Lord.

+ St. Basil the Great

St. Seraphim of Sarov says

Sleep is hard to come by, and I read this during my wakefulness, from a biography of St. Seraphim:

"It sometimes happens that someone who has been prevented from making his communion through unavoidable circumstances may receive the true benefit of the holy Mysteries donated invisibly by the angel of the Lord. "

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and from the Bright Wednesday Epistle as I listen to that most beloved voice sing "let us lay aside all earthly cares..."

 25 For David says concerning Him:

‘I foresaw the Lord always before my face,
For He is at my right hand, that I may not be shaken.
26 Therefore my heart rejoiced, and my tongue was glad;
Moreover my flesh also will rest in hope.
27 For You will not leave my soul in Hades,
Nor will You allow Your Holy One to see corruption.
28 You have made known to me the ways of life;
You will make me full of joy in Your presence.’

Acts 2:25-28

The dust is settling

Today is April 20, 2020, Bright Monday - the day after Pascha.  We are in that joyous place where Christ has trampled death by his own death and shown us the way out of the abyss of sin and corruption and death. I admit that I'm not feeling it, and it's not really because I have cancer and am facing chemo and radiation for the next six months.  It's because it broke my heart to not be with the people  that I love during Holy Week and Pascha, singing those hymns that are ingrained in us, that are in our bones.

I first read about Orthodoxy when I was 16, and I knew in my heart that was where I needed to be. My first liturgy was Palm Sunday, 1975. I fell in love that day, there is no other way to describe it. The priest's vessting prayers as he puts on each item stop in the middle, and the priest exclaims, "O Lord, I love the beauty of Thy house!"  I do. I also love the beauty of Thy house, and being separated from it, at a time when I so need the comfort that the church can give, has been heartbreaking, and isolating.

But still, even though we think about time in a linear fashion, God is outside of all that. God didn't rise yesterday. Christ is everywhere and fills all things; therefore, He is Risen, He has Risen, He will Rise, all at the same time. Every minute of every day, He is Risen. Like St. John Chrysostom says in his famous catechetical address, read in every Orthodox church on Pascha,

"O Death, where is thy sting? O Hell, where is thy victory? Christ is risen, and thou art overthrown! Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen! Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice! Christ is risen, and life reigns! Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the grave! For Christ, being risen from the dead, is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep. To Him be glory and dominion unto ages of ages."

I struggle with my belief. I often pray, as the father of the epileptic boy prayed in Mark, "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief." In the end, and no one knows when their end will come, a fact which has been brought home to me with my husband dropping dead 10 years ago, and my cancer diagnosis...  in the end, what we have to do is trust that God is a loving God, and just as I, as a mother, will forgive my child everything, and will do everything I can to keep her safe and loved, God will do the same for me, out of love for me.

In the meantime, it is a difficult thing to ask for help and to accept help when offered. I am the caretaker, not the person who needs care. I am the strong one, not the weak one. It's very hard to learn that I am neither of those things. I am learning humility in this, because between the quarantine and surgery recovery, and the knowledge that the upcoming treatments will be difficult -- I need help. The church, and it's services, and communion and unction, are not open to anyone right now, and the priest(s) that I need to hold my hand are prevented by time, space, quarantine, and death. My daughter and son in law are far away, as is my blood family. The family that I have chosen for myself are nearby, though one is 4 hours away; my person, my touchstone, is about 75 minutes away; and another is basically an hour away...  I am home in my house with my cats and my thoughts. And God.  I need help because all my normal ways of coping with hard things are closed to me right now. I'm relying on my daily phone calls and texts with occasional visits from my person, and FB/texts/calls from my daughter and my sisters of the heart, and a videochat group with my family in New England.

I posted something on FB yesterday about how my heart was torn out about not being in church singing on Pascha, and a guy, a new convert of maybe 2 years, told me basically to suck it up.  That hurt me, but I immediately understood that he did not have any idea about me, what is going on with me, or my history. He would never have even thought that if he knew about the cancer, or if he knew me better and how my whole life is bound up in worship.  I feel weird about making an announcement of some sort - is that what I should do? So, I may (or I may not) post this on facebook to explain to others I know what is going on, and how every contact with people with me means so much to me right now, and helps to keep my emotions on an even keel.

If I post it, I will give the particulars: endometrial adenocarcinoma, grade IIIa; hysterectomy and salpingo-oophorectomy already completed. On April 28th (my 41st wedding anniversary) I will have a ct scan for staging purposes to ensure that there are no metastases, followed by placement of a line for chemo.  On May 4, I will begin three courses of chemo at three-week intervals, followed by a course of radiation, followed by another three courses of chemo. The whole treatment plan will take around six months or so.

It's all good. God has my attention. Lord, I love the beauty of  Thy house, which, I am certain deep in my heart, is a mere shadow of what is to come. That is the one thing I am certain of. At least today.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.

The desert

So, everyone except up to 2 singers, 1 reader, 1 server, and clergy are prohibited from the services. As the choir director, I am one of those singers. Until March 25, that is. That's when my pastor told me, in a kindly way, that it would be best if I stayed home, since I will have surgery in a couple of weeks which makes me high risk. It wasn't ugly of him at all. At the same time, he gave me the parish traveling icon for as long as I want or need her. It was shocking, but he was looking out for my welfare.

That Saturday, I cried on the phone at the thought of no church, no communion, no annointing, and Dennis convinced me that I should attend church because with a cancer diagnosis, I need church. He was right. I didn't want any kind of scene, so I went to the church, where my confessor and Dennis are. At that point, my confessor said I should come the next Sunday (today), which is the Sunday prior to surgery, and would annoint me. Such a relief.

At some point during the week, he and my parish priest spoke, and then my confessor and I spoke - it was clear to me that he was in a difficult position with my parish priest. I cried at the thought of no church, no communion, no annointing, but it was also clear to me that it was a relief to him when I said I would not continue to put him in a difficult situation and therefore would not attend.

So, I didn't. I watched the live stream from my confessor's church today. It was highly unsatisfactory, but so much better than nothing.

It's not lost on me that this first Sunday where I find myself in the desert is the Sunday when we commemorate St. Mary of Egypt, who spent 40 years alone in the desert, without commuion, without sacraments, without loved ones. I ought to be praying that I become more like her.  I did pray this morning that I would be more accepting of this closed door, just the most recent one in a life time of closed doors.  Intellectually, I think I get it - I think that my self will is very strong, my reliance on myself, is being severed and it is painful. I get it that this is the lesson to be learned - to lean not on my own understanding.

But my heart and my emotions are brokenhearted and questioning why everything comes so hard for me. Why I never get to that place of contentment. Why I never get what and who I want. Why I am under stress all the time; alone, unloved, unwanted, uncared for. It breaks my heart. Usually I get angry, but I'm so brokenhearted that I can't even muster enough energy to shake my fist angrily.

Maybe why doesn't matter. It simply is. My life is simply my life, not the life I wanted, not the life I chose, not the life I need.  But I have to play the hand I'm dealt, as I have throughout my entire life. St. Mary of Egypt chose the desert; I have not chosen the desert, but I find that I am alone in the desert just the same. May it be profitable. Amen.

Begats, Motherhood, and the Theotokos

The services have been sung, the presents opened, the festive meal consumed, DD (and my wonderful son in law) and I have had our ritual Christmas Skype session (some day, in person, ma chere HB!), and it is now the day after Christmas, when I can take a breath.

Every year on this day, my thoughts turn to motherhood. I think about Christ's mother and her motherhood; my motherhood, my mother's motherhood, my grandmothers' motherhood, my aunties. I think about how the yearning for motherhood shaped me and my marriage, how carrying a living human being within my body, how nurturing her, feeding her from my own body, teaching her, encouraging her changed me. How the sore breasts, the endless diapers, the sleepless nights, the waiting waiting waiting for a good report at the oncology clinic, how all that changed me.

I think the Theotokos was a mother just like me and just like you, but she trusted the path laid before her, even to the point of watching her son die an agonizing death. We sing on Holy Friday: a sword has pierced my heart, but change my weeping into joy. I can't imagine the agony of both mother and child on that day. I looked the death of my toddler in the face, and I am forever changed by it - and my child lived.

Motherhood is made up of lots of little things, and although they are little, and each one is probably insignificant, the totality is what forms us, and is what we tend to pass on to our own children. I am not the best mother. I have made many mistakes, and learned only from some of them, much like my own mother and hers before her. In the end, though, what I have received and am trying to pass on to my own daughter, what is the underpinning and foundation of my life, is love. That's what Christmas is all about, too. Love. When all else is lost or stripped away, when all else fails and everyone lets you down, when you are alone and lonely, love remains.

When I listened to the long genealogy of Christ, read in it's entirety on the Sunday before Christmas in every Orthodox Church, and which ends with the birth of Christ, all those begats made me think of the generations that have gone before me, and now, my daughter, my only child. I have said this many times - I have a vision in my mind that I am holding my daughter's hand on my right, and my mother's hand on my left, who is holding her mother Josie's hand, who is holding her mother Angela's hand, on and on, and somehow, the Theotokos is holding the hands of all us mothers, encouraging us to persevere. So, persevere, mothers! Support each other!

This is what I'm pondering this morning.