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A Spiritual Connectedness

Creation of Adam, hands in detail
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When I lost my dear nephew a few weeks ago, I had a dream the following week. My father, who passed away 14 or so years ago, was in my dream. He was so close to me, close enough for me to see his face. He reached his hand out and touched me. I woke up, startled. Then a calmness came over me. I felt reassurance. This to me was a sign, a sign to let me know that everything was all right. My nephew was in a peaceful place.

Once, I was sitting next to a co worker at lunch. We were discussing the latest event we had planned together and I said to her, Have those table linens been picked up yet? Just then, the delivery guy came to the door and announced he was there to pick up the linens.

I am a spiritual being living a human life. When I can be quiet and listen to my inner voice, chances are I will hear something really interesting. If a situation begins to unfold in which I feel like I might be in the right place at the right time, I try and ride with it. Sometimes, it’s a little unbelievable.

I think you know the kind of situations I’m talking about. You think of someone, the phone rings and it’s them. Maybe there’s a desperate situation of some sort and someone just happens to show up who takes care of things. Sometimes I’ve been the one to show up; sometimes it is someone else. I think the scary part is the powerlessness of it. We are not in charge of the universe. God has a plan for us but we are not on the planning committee. That can be disarming. But, it can also be an exhilarating experience to go through the day, waiting for the next miracle to unfold.

Each day is a gift. Let’s untie the ribbon…

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God Between the Clouds

There was a time when I was afraid of storms. As a little girl, I remember hiding my head under the covers whenever lighting and thunder would strike. I remember telling my kids when they were little that, during storms, God was bowling, just so they wouldn’t be afraid.

Last night, after a whole day in the Pittsburgh suburbs of sun and clouds and clouds and sun, the clouds finally won out. Around 6:30pm, it started to storm. I was meeting some friends at 7:15 and took Route 30 just when the sun was going down and the clouds were letting up.

The sky was so stunning I couldn’t help but stop at a small church and take pictures from the parking lot. Hope you enjoy the shots as much as I did.

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Happy Birthday to “The Gavinator”!

My grandson Gavin is one of the biggest blessings in my life. As I write this, he is on the eve of his eleventh birthday, growing out of all of his clothes at record speed. He teeters on the border between being a little kid and becoming an adolescent. He wants to be a grown up but he’s just not there yet. Sometimes he’s so good at arguing his point I think he’d make a great lawyer.

The fact that he is here at all is quite a miracle. My daughter is 29 years old as of this moment. If you do the math that would make her, yep, 18 years old at the time of his birth.

It was a big trauma initially when my daughter told me she was pregnant. I am the oldest of my sisters and female cousins and I was worried about the effect this would have on the family. I said something to my cousin Angie one time about it and she said “You showed us how to handle it”. I don’t know what I was worried about. Everyone was supportive. Thank goodness for open and loving families.

Gavin has taught us many lessons. When he was two or so, he stopped calling my husband “PAP” and started calling him Jim. He still calls him Jim. (He calls me Nana) When he was three, he overheard Jim being impatient and short with me. Gavin stopped him and said, “Jim you were not talking to Nana very nice. I think you need to say you’re sorry.” So in front of Gavin, Jim came to me and said he was sorry.

Jim calls Gavin “the Gavinator” I think because he is a powerhouse. He’s all boy. He likes to ride motorbikes, zoom on a skateboard, catch a fish. Jim loves to show Gavin how to fix mechanical things, take care of the chickens, tell a good joke. The men on my husband’s side of the family have a weird sense of humor and thankfully Gavin knows how to play along.

Gavin told me one day that Jim told him how we came to be together. In a stern voice I said to Gavin, “Tell me what Jim told you.” He said (with a grin) “Nana, you were washing your face by the side of the road one day. Jim was driving by. He stopped and said Come with me and you’ll never have to wash your face in cold water again. So you went with him and he bought you an ax to chop wood.”

I said GAVIN, DO NOT LISTEN TO JIM!!

I have a magnet on my refrigerator that says: Grandchildren are God’s reward for not killing your children. I laugh when I read this but truly, Gavin is a big reward for hanging in there through some tough times. He is for us, I believe, the opportunity to try again, to do better, to be given another chance. And my daughter? Last year she received her bachelor’s degree. When God gives us a chance to swell up our heart, we should take it. Who knows what it will bring?

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The Power of a Journey

I love a good lump in your throat kind of movie. You know the kind I mean. When you begin to watch it, you just know something sweet is going to unfold. Maybe a good lesson on faith, love or forgiveness.

Cover of "Field of Dreams (Widescreen Two...
Cover via Amazon

There are a few movies that inspire and give me that lump in my throat. They are the movies I can watch over and over and never tire of. Field of Dreams is one of them. In it, Kevin Costner embarks upon a journey of self discovery. Through the building of his cornfield ball park, meeting and finding old baseball pros, he finally sees the purpose of it all when his young father turns around at home base. The golden nugget is the chance, the opportunity to heal his troubled relationship with his father.

Last night, I went to see Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. Lest you are thinking about reading no further, hear me out. I absolutely loved it.

I remember seeing trailers for SFITY, twisting up my face and wondering what the heck is someone thinking? A movie on salmon fishing??? Then a few days ago, I read a positive review of the movie, intriguing me enough to make me want to go.

So go I did and wow, was I impressed. I also realized what a grown up I have become because even though this movie has gorgeous characters, a lusty love plot, unbelievable scenery (it’s the Yemen!), and lots of gutsy acting (Kristen Scott Thomas), I was so caught up in the MESSAGE.

The local Sheik wants to bring salmon fishing to the Yemen. Everyone, including the expert fishing pro they choose for the job, thinks he is nuts. The Sheik persists and says Do you have faith? to the expert. The expert is all about scientific research, dull boring stuff, but fishing is not about science, insists the Sheik . Fishing is about Faith, Fishing is about Patience, he says.

So the journey begins to bring water to the desert, bring the salmon to the Yemen. You wonder if they all begin to get alittle crazy with the idea but deep down, it’s faith. They start to believe in the dream. They overcome adversity several times and persist in their journey to a dream.

The lump in my throat started early in the movie. I know that happens when I can feel a spiritual experience coming on. I love the Sheik; he is full of wisdom, calm and grace. He shows us all the power of the journey, the walk towards enlightenment. I have a feeling that this movie will be one of those that I will want to watch over and over again.

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Laughing at Myself

You grow up the day you have the first real laugh….at yourself.

Ethel Barrymore

I have done some silly stuff lately.

One chilly morning this winter, I was outside cleaning the snow off my car. When I came into the house, my glasses fogged up immediately after hitting the warmth of my mud room. I ran into the kitchen, thinking I had left the oven on.

In an event just yesterday, my boss said to me (from another room), Do you think Jim would go to Mastermind with you? What I heard was, Do you think Jim would go to Mass with you tomorrow? (I’m not Catholic!)

Lucy watches Little Ricky's birthday party fro...
Lucille Ball- She was funny! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As I get older and (hopefully) wiser, I also seem to be becoming more funny. Maybe it is just that I am funny to myself, but no, I seem to be funny to others as well.

The deterioration of my hearing especially is enabling my funnyness. I know I’m going to need to get it checked, but the reality of that is well, I am not ready to deal with the reality of that (or the expense of a hearing aid).

I don’t know why people get so upset when others laugh at them. I see it as a special grace when we can love ourselves despite what others think (or don’t think) of us. When I was a manager, my employees loved to imitate me back to myself. Sometimes, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

I used to think that EVERYONE needed to like/love me. I was such a people pleaser. I realize now that is the impossible dream. The older I get the more I realize that hey, not everyone is gonna like me. That is ok with me. I will tell you this- the deeper my relationship to God, the less it matters what others think. I like myself and what others think of me is really none of my business.

I know deep inside the kind of person I strive to be. Funny yes. Also- caring, loving, thoughtful, forgiving, huggy and kissy. Yes, that is what I want to be.

So laugh if you will. I’m laughing along with you!

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Make Way for the Spring Chickens!

In honor of Spring, I want to invite you over and tell you about our chickens. My husband Jim got bit by the chicken bug a few years ago. A friend of the family happened to give us a baby rooster. That baby rooster somehow fostered a fowl love story for my husband and daughter.

The rooster has long passed on but my husband’s love for chickens has only grown. I have to say, I was not thrilled when I found baby chickens in an incubator in my garage a few years ago. I swore that I would not help with them- ever- because I was so bent on not adding one more responsibility to my full plate. Obviously the chickens have persisted and thrived, due largely in part to my husband’s and daughter’s care. They provide us with ample, or more like an abundance, of eggs.

Initially, I was so skeptical of the eggs that I only used them in cake mixes or as ingredients in recipes. I was a bit nervous about eating them hard boiled, fried sunny side up or scrambled. After a few dozen eggs wasted on cake mixes, I realized my ridiculousness and fried up a few. I was forever changed.

There is something special about the eggs. They are fresh of course but without all the modern things done to the poor commercial chickens, there is a distinctive difference in the taste of them. They are the true definition of Organic. Even their appearance is different. The shells are much thicker and the yolk yellower. Scrambled eggs come out the color of sunshine.

My mother called me recently and warned me about a salmonella scare regarding eggs. She didn’t realize our eggs are salmonella- proof.  There is no way our eggs could have ANYTHING other than goodness.

During warm evenings, Jim lets the chickens out of their coop to run around the yard, scratch and eat bugs. Our trusty yellow lab Ms. Jordan guards them with a sharp eye, her motivation being her daily treat of a delicious egg. Letting the chickens run around the yard like this used to be another source of  annoyance, but “the girls” (nickname for the chickens) have won me over.

As you can see by the pictures, we don’t have the run of the mill white chickens. We have Araucanas and Buff Orpingtons. Their eggs are a beautiful soft green and light brown color. It’s convenient for Easter as we will probably just hard boil them!

If you have a bit of space in your back yard, the motivation and a good chicken book or mentor, there’s no reason you can’t have your own chickens. Just remember to make the coop very secure or intruders like raccoons, possums or foxes will make a delicacy of your chickens.

I have to admit, there is something about being able to live off your own land that makes life a bit more meaningful. When we plant our garden in the summer and have abundant vegetables, I remind myself how lucky we are to be able to grow and provide food for ourselves.  Jim’s newest hobby is bees and he’s put in a couple of hives. I can taste the honey already. I’ll bring you around again when I’m ready for that story.

A big thank you to my daughter Michelene Cain, for these beautiful pictures!

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Deeper Into Faith

There was a loss in my family last week. It was a loss so deep, so painful, it is still hard to come to terms with it even now, one week later.

I cannot imagine how I would be coping with it without faith. In a conversation I had with a dear friend of mine during this hard time, we wondered how a person of no faith could handle an unexpected loss of a loved one. We would be very angry, we surmised. We would have questions with no answers.

I can understand this thinking. Years ago I was one of those angry ones.  Angry for things that happened  beyond my control. The drama that surrounded my life was measurable, catastrophic to me at the time. It did not occur to me that faith would have made things much easier.  It would have eased the burden I was so bent on shouldering.

Now I know what the answer is. The answer is Faith. Faith fills me with peace and serenity when I let her in. I want to go deeper now, deeper into my soul where she is willing to provide me with peace and rest for my turbulent thoughts. This will help me do what I most want to do. That is, to stay calm, to pray for the others.

I have close friends who suffered a great loss a few years ago. My husband and I spent a great deal of time with them, still do. Nothing takes away pain but time and faith. Faith that another day will dawn, that life goes on. My friends were an inspiration with their dogged commitment to faith and life. They pushed on. They did the best they could under stressful circumstances.

I am grateful it is Spring. The birds are singing, the flowers budding, the grass greening. It gives me hope that going Deeper into Faith will sprout a greater awareness of the great goodness of the universe and its potential to heal us all.

Seedling
Seedling (Photo credit: _sjg_)
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Sky Watcher

Photo by Michelene Cain

It’s been a rough week.

Some things happened this past week that were so beyond my control. I badly wanted to take charge of the unmanageable situations, line them up like obedient soldiers, solve each issue one by one. When it was all over I could feed everyone chicken soup and chunky homemade chocolate chip cookies. I just wanted to make it all better.

Instead, I’ve eaten a few too many Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies and prayed for help. Please God, keep me from interfering where I shouldn’t. I can so justify my reasons for intruding, but at this stage of the game I know better.

Assisting others can be one of my star attributes. It can also be one of my biggest character flaws. When I do for others what they can do for themselves, I am robbing them of their own opportunities to grow or feel their own emotions.

For me, the fine line of distinction with regards to assisting others is my motive. Do I want to ride in on my white horse and save the day? Is my offer to help motivated by my own ego? Or is someone in genuine dire need or danger? Sometimes I need a good friend to help me figure things out.

When I am troubled by events beyond my control, I become a sky watcher. God speaks to me through the sky.  And so the past few days, I have taken every advantage to stare at the morning sunrise, the afternoon sun or clouds, and the deep dark sky filled with the stars and full moon of last week. I can be alone for a few minutes and ground myself again to my sense of purpose. That is, I am here to be of service, not to force my will on anyone. And I know deep inside that when I allow my loved ones the opportunity to solve their own problems, I give them (and myself) a great gift.

Photo by Michelene Cain
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Faith….In Unlikely Places

I was in Sante Fe, New Mexico staying at a beautiful bed and breakfast with my sister Cally. It had been the first time ever I had gone on vacation purely for myself without husband or kids in tow.

The second day we were there, I mentioned to Cally that we should call our mom (Katherine!) and let her know we had arrived safely. We dialed the number and Katherine answered. After a few minutes of how’s it going, how’s everything, she said to me “are you sitting down”?

So I sat down. I said “What’s up?” She said “Guess who called? Your cousin, Christina…”.  

Christina

This was big news. My cousins, Christina and her older brother Jason, had gone AWOL for a few years and we did not know what happened to them or where they were. Christina calling my mom was nothing short of a miracle.

A few weeks before this momentous phone call, I had been to a small old church for a meeting of friends. For some reason, I thought of my two lost cousins all evening. I happened to use the bathroom (in the basement of the church, of all places) and while I was in there I thought, Dear God, Where are they?

Faith sometimes appears in the strangest of places. I’m sure it appears in church of course. But I know it often happens outside of typically holy places. I never thought praying in a bathroom, especially an unfamiliar bathroom, could have such amazing results.

I don’t remember when I called Christina. It might have been there in Sante Fe or when I got home. I can share with you that the following December, she and her daughter Ariel took a train and shared Christmas with us. Now she comes with her husband, Julio, and occasionally her stepson Adrian. A few years ago, we went to Jason’s wedding and met his now wife- Angela. Jason had a new baby, Jamiya, almost two years ago.

It never ceases to amaze me that we have all been reunited and can look forward to many years together. Whenever I see Christina get out of her car, after a long trip to Pennsylvania to visit us, I pinch myself.

When we turn the impossible over to God, amazing things can happen. Things that we need not have any hand in. All we have to do is believe.

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Cheer Up Sleepy Jean

The Monkees, left to right: Micky Dolenz, Davy...
Image via Wikipedia

I can’t believe Davy Jones is gone. I found out on the Yahoo home page yesterday and I just haven’t been the same since.

When I was 9 years old, the Monkees were on television with their weekly show. I don’t think I ever missed an episode. They were so corny and silly, what was not to love? And their music. Awesome. Just the perfect blend of soft pop and sweet melodies.

Back then, my sisters and I were the perfect age for pretending. We loved to pretend that we were the Monkees. I remember getting together with the other neighborhood kids and having a concert in the basement. We asked our moms to be the audience. They politely sat there and gabbed while we played Monkees music and banged away on our musical instruments. We wanted to be just like the Monkees….

Lots of my girlfriends had a crush on Davy Jones but my favorite was Peter Tork. At least there was some hope there. Davy was just too cute, too impossible a dream.

A few years ago, there was a CD available at Costco of greatest hits of the Monkees. I bought it and played “Last Train to Clarksville” over and over again. I just loved that song. But who doesn’t love “Daydream Believer“. Another great song.

Dear Davy, I hope you are banging away on your heavenly tambourine. The Monkees will never be the same without you!

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