Giving Thanks

I offer thanks today for all the good I have in my life.  

I am so grateful to God for putting in my path so many wonderful people who are so good to me.  My caretakers who provide me with help so that I can stay home as long as possible.   My doctors who work so hard to keep my complicated health issues organized and who do it with warmth and compassion.  Professionals who have helped me with business issues, without judgment or criticism.

 

But most of all I am thankful for those of you who are so good to me on an everyday basis.   Those of you who offer me empathy and encouragement and unconditional love, you are what keep me going.  You all keep me from folding under the weight of everything I have lost and make me appreciate everything I still have. 

 

That is my Thanks Giving.

 

Words my loved ones live by:

1 Corinthians 13

Love

13 1 What if I could speak all languages of humans
 and of angels?
If I did not love others, I would be nothing more
than a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
² What if I could prophesy and understand all secrets
 and all knowledge?
And what if I had faith that moved mountains?
I would be nothing, unless I loved others.
³ What if I gave away all that I owned
and let myself be burned alive?
I would gain nothing, unless I loved others.
⁴ Love is kind and patient, never jealous, boastful,
 proud, or ⁵ rude.
Love isn’t selfish or quick tempered.
It doesn’t keep a record of wrongs that others do.
⁶ Love rejoices in the truth, but not in evil.
⁷ Love is always supportive, loyal, hopeful,
 and trusting.
⁸ Love never fails!  Everyone who prophesies will stop,
and unknown languages will no longer  be spoken.
All that we know will be forgotten.
⁹ We don’t know everything, and our prophecies
are not complete. ¹⁰ But what is perfect will someday appear,

and what isn’t perfect will then disappear.

¹¹ When we were children, we thought and reasoned

 as children do. But when we grew up, we quit our childish ways.
¹² Now all we can see of God is like a cloudy picture
in a mirror. Later we will see him face to face.
We don’t know everything, but then we will,
just as God completely understands us.
¹³ For now there are faith, hope, and love.
But of these three, the greatest is love.

  







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Christmas Reverie

In this season of promise and expectation, my thoughts go to the myriad of Everyday Angels that surround me, my powerful circle of love and hope. You all, who have given me so much, will be in my heart forever.  I know you will be richly rewarded for your gentle kindnesses and loving generosity.  Especially those of you who know my many flaws but love me anyway, thank you for being role models of compassion.  Your humanity inspires me.  I pray that you all will be showered with blessings.

No matter what, I am so grateful for my children and the many treasured Christmas memories that revolve around them.  Throughout the years, you four, individually and collectively, have given me more joyful moments than you will ever know.   There is nothing you could ever do or say that could change my love for you.  That love is for eternity.

December is such a busy month, and not just because of Christmas.  In our family, we have significant dates on both ends of the spectrum of life.  I have two precious grandchildren born in December.  And, sadly, my husband Dennis died in December, five days before Christmas, twenty years ago this month. Our kids were 6, 8, 15 and 16.  I was 39 and he was only 40.

His death was a hideous shock.  He was an active guy, slim and athletic.  But he apparently had congenital heart disease that was never picked up.  The worst thing I have ever had to do in my life was witness the suffering my children endured at his loss and not be able to fix it or make it go away.  Every subsequent family milestone that I went through alone at first was excruciatingly painful, then gradually faded to a dull poignancy.

We have four grandchildren now, will have five in February.  He would have been a marvelous grandfather, because he was a big kid at heart.   He was always up for playing a game, reading a story, going for a walk or making up silly sayings. 

A tugboat pilot, he was very good at his job.  But it was a career he had been caught in, not a career he had chosen.  At 17, a neighbor gave him a job at Circle Line, the Manhattan sightseeing boats, as a line catcher, the lowest job on the pier.  (This neighbor just happened to be a VP at Circle Line).  Dennis was a reliable, hard worker and popular with the other guys, so he easily worked his way up to deckhand.  Because he was ambitious, he studied for and obtained his pilot’s license, a notoriously hard accomplishment.  He became a captain at Circle Line and then a pilot on the tugs.   

But what he really wanted to be, more than anything, was a high school gym teacher.   He would have been fantastic.  He loved kids and he loved sports, he was a natural.  When I “helped” our kids with their homework, I was shrieking maniac within 15 seconds.  He was endlessly patient.  But he never had the luxury of quitting his job to go back to school, he had a family to support.  So he settled for being an autodidact and was quite learned in many subjects, especially the Civil War and geography.  We used to challenge each other to Jeopardy.  Getting comfortable on the sofa, our younger son would sit between us and keep score.  We’d turn the show on and most of the time it would be neck and neck.  But if I won, it was usually just because I had a faster mouth.  He was always a good loser, whereas if I lost, I would pout.  It was years before I could watch Jeopardy again.  It just made me too sad.

He was a die-hard New Yorker, something that had bonded him with my grandfather.  These two complicated men had a genuine respect and fondness for each other.  And like my grandfather, not-so-deep-down, Dennis was a quiet romantic.  His favorite movies were West Side Story, It’s a Wonderful Life, The Quiet Man and Dog Day Afternoon, all films about flawed men with huge capacities to love.   He had a soft spot for animals, with their helplessness and unconditional affection.  He was especially fond of an obscure TV movie from 1969, J.T.   It has only been broadcast once or twice since (although it is available here on YouTube, in 4 parts).  J.T. is set in Harlem, a touching but raw story about a lonely boy who secretly nurses an injured alley cat while trying to cope with the challenges of inner city life.  Dennis saw himself in that little boy and talked about comparisons often.  Although he had his melancholy streak, he was incredibly funny and had a sharp wit, but plain old slapstick, like It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, could leave him crying with laughter.  

Golf was such a passion that he would have pitched a tent out on the green if he could have.   He was a great athlete and probably could have played professional baseball if he had had the encouragement and support he needed as a kid.

Twenty years is an awfully long time. We had been married for 17, known each other for 20, had four wonderful children together.  He had a hard life and dealt with many challenges, some more successfully than others.  He was a very good man at heart, but I know he always wanted to be better.  He was always striving.  I am so sad for him that he has missed so much.   Sometimes it seems as though he will walk through the door any second.  It happens far less now, but I still find myself occasionally thinking, “oh, I have to tell Dennis” and then I remember.  I think he would have been very proud of my accomplishments.  It feels desperately unfair that his life was so short.   But I want to believe he is in a place of happiness and healing, far better off than I can comprehend.

Merry Christmas, Dennis.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Fragment of a painting, Shooting Star, by

Thank you Lord, for making Yourself one of us.  Please strengthen our faith in You.  Please make us worthy of Your love and of each other.









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Accentuate the Positive

A week plus and I am feeling stronger.  It seems as though something unlatched a little and I can breathe a bit better.  PT and OT are definitely helping.  And I cannot say enough good things about the therapists themselves.  There is respect and caring for each patient as an individual.  They are very skilled but still earnest and encouraging.   My primary physical therapist laughs at my jokes, so he was an instant win.  Truly, almost everyone else working here is incredibly pleasant and helpful.

Because they are only people, there is the odd one or two lacking that balance of expertise and warmth.  I was sent for pulmonary rehab to see if it would be helpful.  Four of us were wheeled into a therapy room and pretty much ignored while the therapists discussed their plans.  Finally the Leader spun around and said, as if she was addressing imbeciles, “Ok, who remembers what we learned yesterday?”  Of course, ever the wise ass, I started to answer with a grin, “Not me!” (I hadn’t been there the day before).  Before I could get out two syllables, she said loudly, without even looking at me, “Except you Mrs. Cooper.”

Well hush my mouth.

She clearly found me irritating and, correspondingly, I couldn’t wait to get out of there.   I won’t be going back.  Besides the fact she is the only flat-out surly therapist I have encountered,  it really was redundant to what I was doing in PT.

I have to deal with many tiny aggravations every day.  There are big ones, too, including facing the fact that my health is failing.  But there are highlights that stand out from the past few days, things that seem minor but actually are huge in the scheme of things as far as making a difference goes.  They are small acts of kindness that provide proof of the goodness of most people.  Referring to them as small seems like a slight, although these ordinary things are often unnoticed or unseen.  But they carry so much power.

While I was in the first hospital the aide was in the room taking my vitals at about two in the morning.  A tech ambled by in the hall and she called out to him.  He backed up and was clearly pleased to see her.  “Hey girl!”  She went into the hall and I watched the two of them talking and laughing.  He was adorable and funny.  When he left, she came back and told me what a sweet guy he was.  I told her how cute he was.  A few minutes later, he strolled by again.  “Lamar!” she called, “My lady here thinks you are cute.”  He shot to attention and put on an exaggerated flirty performance.  He danced like Conan O’Brien and made up a rap song on the spot singing my praises.  The aide and I were in stitches and it really raised my spirits, he was so young and so sweet.  She chased him away and as he left he gave me the ‘call me’ sign. Too funny.

The first night I was here in rehab, I was literally too weak to even clean and dress myself.  My nurse’s aide bathed me in bed and changed the bed at the same time, totally matter of fact and kind.  I am used to feeling mortified and bereft when I am so helpless, but she was so sweet it felt like an ordinary, everyday thing.  And let me tell you, having someone one third of your age say “Ok, honey bunny!” as she finishes getting you dressed is in no way condescending.  It made my day.

My first roommate was very infirm and uncommunicative.  I suppose people thought because she didn’t say much, she was deaf.  Which she wasn’t.  But people yelled at her all day long.  “Mary (not her real name) eat!!”  “Mary swallow!!”  “Mary pick your head up!!”  “Mary, what is the matter with you?!?!”  “Mary, do you want a Xanax?!”

One night, the night shift nurse brought in her meds.  She quietly asked Mary how she was.  Mary replied, “Not good, I’m very nervous.”  Instead of screaming at her did she want a Xanax, this nurse sweetly said, “Well, we have something I can give you to make you feel better.  Would you like that?”  Mary said yes please.  The nurse returned and helped her with water.  And then she said the most incredible thing:  “Would you like me to sit with you until you feel better?”  Her demeanor seemed to have made all the difference, because Mary calmly said “No thank you” and drifted off to sleep.

And then there are the visits from my friends!  People who lead such incredibly busy lives, taking the time to come and sit with me, bringing me fruit and tea, my two favorites!  Sometimes my PT/OT schedule conflicts with visits, but that is the primary reason I’m here, so I have to do the therapy.  But people are even coming back if they have missed me!!  Incredible.  Our new interim Rector, who I had not even met, has visited me several times.  So generous with his time and prayers.

My granddaughter is two and obviously doesn’t understand why I am not home or what this place is.  But she was SO happy to see me when she came to visit!!  She hugged me and hugged me, saying “Grammy!!! Grammy!!!” over and over.  I can’t wait to get home and be with her again.

Can't wait to be home with her again!!

These ordinary people and ordinary actions are really what make a difference in our lives.

So there is a lot of hard stuff going on, but a lot of good to balance it.  Despite the hard stuff, I am a very lucky person.

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