Thoughts about Endings

Not to be a downer, but I've been thinking a lot about death lately. Maybe it's because I'm remembering my dear Aunt Wendy as we approach the 3 year deathiversary. Perhaps it's because my friend just lost her Uncle to lung cancer. Or my brother's recent experience of sitting with a man and his family as he left this world. Or the amount of cancers and surgeries I have seen recently at work.

I have been with quite a few people in their final weeks and days. I often felt like that was where I made a difference. It gave meaning to my work. Death makes us all equal. Pain and suffering is a guarantee as life closes. Love and conflict become magnified as family dynamics take a front seat.

My friend told me that watching her uncle die made her believe that euthanasia should be legal. That no animal would have been allowed to suffer like he had. I would be lying if I said I hadn't felt that way myself in certain situations.

I'm not sure how justice is served for people. It often seems unfair that the kind get sick and leave people who need them while the evil get away with all kinds of garbage and lead a long, healthy life. I may not know how justice is served, but I do believe that it is. I think about the man in Fort Hood who took so many lives and attempted to take his own. Medical intervention has helped him recover, it seems, in order to experience hell on earth. Why didn't we let him go? Then I read the Maclean's article about Demjanjuk, the nazi who was directly or indirectly in the deaths of many. He is being tried in Germany. A frail, old man who is dying of cancer. It struck a chord deep inside of me. It feels so wrong to me. How are we making the world a better place by taking justice into our own hands? Can anyone explain it to me?

I realize I've grown up with pacifist, Mennonite roots and that that plays a role in my thinking about justice. I also realize that total pacifism doesn't seem practical in this messed up world and I'm not sure that it's THE answer. I'm not sure how it's all supposed to work and I have strong mixed feelings about stuff like this. I don't know what the right or wrong action is all the time. Maybe ever.

I just know that death is final. And it's complicated. Painful. And confusing.

Halloween 2009

Monkey! Is that a banana in your pocket... ?

Mr Independent

Being silly with Auntie Carol

Practitioner Renewal

Yesterday I attended a session called "When Life Bites" presented by Dr David Kuhl of the Center for Practitioner Renewal. It was a workshop that addressed the pain that providers carry as they care for the suffering.

We created a bunch of time lines and dated our deaths to be 6 months from now. We analyzed what we had accomplished and what we would like to accomplish. We thought about people who have left and are leaving legacies to us and what kind of legacy we want to leave. It was sobering, to say the least.

We also explored some of our pasts. It was interesting to see how our coping skills from our young years transfer into the workplace. Nobody comes to work as a blank slate. All kinds of things can hinder our ability to work as a team. It's so hard to remember that whole people come to work and that people aren't their jobs. We need to be gentle and gracious with each other.

We spent some time processing past hurts as well. I've done a lot of that in my life. To some extent it's healthy but I never want to be stuck in the past again. It was good to do a brief visit though. I think I've mostly dealt with my past hurts, including the Big Hurt and am constantly thankful for my time at Homewood to help me with that.

Life is so fragile. We can cause so much grief or so much blessing for people in our lives. Relationships is where it's at. It doesn't matter what the house is like. It doesn't matter how much money I make. It doesn't matter how fit I am or how much I weigh. So much of life that seems like a big deal really doesn't matter.

The truth is, I nit-pick. I make big deals about things that don't matter. I argue with my husband about trivial things. I forget to show appreciation to the people that I love. I lose sight of what's important in the din of every day life. I search for my own meaning and happiness as if it's something that can be found, when in actuality life is an opportunity to create meaning for myself. The best gift I can give anyone is myself. Stuff is just so unimportant.

May I constantly live like I am dying.

Belated Gratitude

I was going to post on Thanksgiving weekend, but time seemed to slip away on me. I was going to do "100 things I'm thankful for". I would have. I should have.

I've been thinking about thankfulness a lot. Mostly I've been realizing how ungrateful I am. I don't know if it is my attitude or personality, or if it's just the nature of man, but I take everything for granted and then want more. Selfish through and through.

It's an attitude I want to work on. I want to count my blessings daily. It doesn't matter what I used to have or what I don't have. I don't want to complain at work. I want to realize what a gift my job is. I don't want to curse the 5th time in one night that I have to attend to the Boy. I want to remember how long we tried and how hard we prayed to conceive. I don't want to grieve my old community. I want to put an effort into making friends here. I don't want to gripe over the way my Husband or Family is. I want to show them how much I love them.

I'm working on changing my perspective. How blessed I am!

The Cage of Rage

As a kid I always loved cats. My cousin and I spent countless hour in the hayloft finding batches of kittens hidden in the floors and walls. We would sit and watch and wait. The patience we had back then is pretty amazing.


Recently I saw a mouse scuttle in my garage. My garage is attached to my house and this rodent was a bit close for my comfort. I didn't want poison or traps because I have a toddler and a dog. Personally, I'd like them in the house. But the Husband is slightly allergic plus a clean freak. The amount of dog hair we find kicking around drives him crazy. A cat would make him insane.

A cat would have to live in the garage. I worried that one cat would want to constantly sneak into the house. Litter mates would keep each other company and provide body warmth for each other.

I found an ad for some older kittens that had been born wild. I figure cats born wild and then tamed would be better mousers and more independent than babies born tame. After emailing for a while, I convinced my Dad to accompany me for the pickup. The first kitten was caught quite easily although he was nervous. Kitty number two exploded, biting through leather gloves to make my dad bleed.

I've had them for a week now. They live in the old dog kennel with a litter box, blankets, food and water. I spend a bit of time with them daily. However, I have way less time than when I was a kid with no responsibilities. Back then I'm sure they would be totally tame already.

But for now... they're mostly pissed off. Every time I come to bring them food and water kitty #2 spits at me. She's a devil. He's more laid back but still hisses regularly when I visit.

So, in my garage sits a cage. Full of rage.

I won't hurt you babies. Trust me.

Teensy

Today I decided to try the snowsuit from last year on the Boy. Last year he was 6 months old in November and he wore it through to 10 months. This year he's, well, one year older for you mathematicians out there. So, I slipped him into it and it's a great fit. Perhaps even slightly big. I mean, I always knew he was little. But seriously, just yesterday I was sorting through his clothes and putting away 6-9 month sizes. I just can't believe it still fits but am happy that I don't have to dish out more money for anything these days. He looks like the Michelin man, an astronaut, or a giant marshmallow. We are ready for you, old man Winter.

Extra padding for potential falls, doing tricks on the quad

Reflections on 30

Can you hear the tick-tock of time disappearing?

I celebrated my 30th birthday yesterday. I'm not one to make a big fuss about birthdays but small celebrations with family make the day feel special. The Husband is convinced that the big 3-0 is a big deal. It called for an extravagant brunch and some shopping time. Later this winter he is taking me on a warm vacation. I'm really looking forward to it!

30 isn't a big deal for me. Never-the-less, I've been thinking a bit. I'm in the best shape of my life. I have less back pain than when I was younger. I'm in a happy, supportive marriage. I'm raising a beautiful boy, quite successfully so far. My mood is generally stable. I've learned to take better care of myself. My faith is growing.

The fact that I'm a well balanced, responsible adult does amaze me at times. Some of the choices I made when I was younger... some of the directions I could have gone.... it can scare me. And I'm thankful for the miracles of lessons learned and loving, praying people in my life. With God's continued gentle guidance, I can only hope for more of the same. More maturation. More blessings. More hard and easy lessons. More faith.

Thanks Mum and Dad for the wall clock. Symbolic perhaps?