The Dispatchers of Simple Gifts and Minor Miracles

You get back in this life what you give? This is such a common belief for many, but if there truly is that kind of balance, I cannot fathom what I have done to deserve the people in my life who have been the conductors of small but miraculous and healing events.

Just in the past two weeks:

• There was the check that unexpectedly arrived in the mail, a generous, kind and timely gift sent with concern by someone who is very special.

• There was the beautiful bouquet of flowers delivered on Saturday. The card said “Dear Marie, I wish I could give you a big hug but I’m afraid my arms don’t stretch as far as the U.S.” From a dear, warm hearted friend in the U.K.

• There was an opportunity to volunteer and help some out of work people with their resumes, thanks to a networking referral by a thoughtful colleague. It got me out of the house and into the real world for a little while. This was better for me than for the people I coached.

• There was a freelance writing opportunity, again referred by a friend.

• I was evaluated on Monday to determine what kind of new power chair I needed. The price quote was $25,000. My insurance coverage is $2000. I mentioned this sardonically on Facebook, that it was laughable and unachievable. I instantly received a message that a friend was going to make some calls. Her next message was that she knew of someone who would be willing to give me their never used power chair. For nothing; no charge. I mean within minutes of me posting that note. And indeed it was so. A brand new, pristine chair from a lovely woman I have never even met. My son gave up his afternoon to pick it up for me.

There has been no burning bush, no parting of the Red Sea, no turning water into wine (although I would quite like that), but little miracles none the less. Small marvels that have a profound impact on my life, both the quality and the outlook.

Ok, on second thought, maybe the chair was a pretty big one.

Now, I am only related to two of these people and one is by marriage. Yet every one of them went out of their way to make sure I obtained something I needed. Or something I didn’t even realize I needed. And then, when I thanked them, they demurred and indicated I was special to them in some way.

My cousin-in-law is a very, very good man, a savvy, no nonsense business person, but generous and thoughtful. He has been so kind to me. Talking to him the other day he said “Blood is thicker than water.” Incredible irony, as we are not blood relatives. So I believe the saying needs to be revised: Blood flowing through a loving and giving heart is thicker than water. The sweetness of these people is a mystical thing to me. It is not just about my needs. Their caring spirits are healing to all of us in proximity to them. Their goodness and generosity of spirit cannot be contained.

This has not been limited to the past few days, my friends are remarkable year round. And then there are my readers, who also make such a huge difference in my life. I have a list of both a mile long.

My miracle purveyors this week have simple and ordinary names: John, Marylynn, Jane, Phyllis, Louise, Lisa, James. But that simplicity is misleading. They and others like them are the power that drives goodness through this world.

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Tag, You're It!

I have been tagged!!

My sweet friend Jane in the UK writes the marvelous blog The Witty Ways of a Wayward Wife. She is TOO funny and totally worth checking out.

At any rate, you will hear more about Jane and what a good friend she truly is in a future post. In the meantime, in her post on Sunday, she tagged me.

I haven’t been tagged in a while and I have always had mixed feelings about it. It can be fun. And I don't want to seem churlish by not participating. But there are always so many rules! And they are always scary and confusing and I don't always understand what they mean, like this:

1) You MUST tag 759 million fellow bloggers.
2) You MUST redirect back to their RSS and TBS and DVD and PCP. And their BVD’s too.
3) If you disobey these rules, your blog will disappear forever and you will become a blogging pariah because in your ignorance you don’t deserve to blog, write or, indeed, live.
4) Might as well give up now, it is clear you are doomed.

But Jane, bless her heart says we can throw away the rules if we want!! Hooray!! I will still stick to a modified set of guidelines, I’m an Episcopalian, not an anarchist. But I will keep them simple.

First here are my answers to the tag questions:

1) If you could be any historical or current character who would you be?

I would love to visit a historical period, like the 1930’s New York City, but I would want to be myself, not someone else.

If I HAD to pick someone else it would be umm…umm…umm… I know! Martha Gellhorn, the journalist. She got to do it all and, for a little while, got to do it all with Hemingway, too. Although I might pass on the 89, almost blind, suicide part at the end. At that point I would switch to become someone else. Hey, if you have magic powers, might as well take advantage of them.

2) Name an interesting fact about yourself.

The most interesting thing about me is there is absolutely nothing interesting about me. lol

I guess the fact that I have a lot of education in a lot of different subjects could be interesting. I have a Bachelor’s degree in English Literature, I’m a licensed nurse, a certified Childbirth Educator and I have a Master’s degree in Communication. That is 20 years of school. Yet I still can’t find a job. ha ha ha ha ha ha (that is hysterical, ironic laughter)


3) If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would you change?

Honestly, I would keep a better eye on Cain and Abel than Eve did. Who knows what the world would be like today if those boys had gotten along!

4) What character traits annoy you?

I’m assuming these are character traits in others. None of mine annoy me, whereas other people irk the piss out of me. Such as, people who are know-it-alls. I hate it when someone knows thinks they know more than me.

And people who are hypochondriacs. That drives me straight up the wall! I know so many strong, wonderful people who are sick and would give anything to be healthy. So to hear anyone whine about something minor or non-existent makes me want to slap them into gratitude for their health. Or just slap them, period. I think I might enjoy that. And not in a pervy way, either, so get your mind out of the gutter.


5) Name one thing that you would change in yourself.

Jane and I clearly have the same level of non-existent self esteem –what wouldn’t I change?! I think the only good feature I have is my bum too. Me and Jane, a pair of proud bottoms.

My right earlobe is ok as well. Everything else is negotiable.

6) What do you consider your biggest achievement?

I am 56, single, half blind, fat, unemployed, depressed and can no longer walk without assistance. No contest: my biggest achievement is getting out of bed every morning. Wait…maybe my biggest achievement is not lying down on the railroad tracks? Although, to do that I would still have to get out of bed. So, nope, it definitely is getting out of bed every morning.

TA DA! There you have it. Now my tag-ees and I just have to follow the ultra simple rules:

Rule 1 - No Tag-Backs (Surely you have other friends?!?! Besides, I couldn’t do this again so soon without heavy sedation. Ack, the rules, the rules!!!)

Rule 2 - You must tag a further 8 bloggers (“Or however many you want to says Mrs T making up her own rules as she goes...” I LOVE this part, a direct quote from Jane. However many I want. YESSS!)

Rule 3 - You must answer the questions. (Easy peasey. The questions are all about YOU! Does anyone have a more favorite subject?!?)

Rule 4 - You must have a link back to the people who tagged you. (Ok, even I know how to do this, see intro with link back to Jane.)

I have chosen to tag:

Margaret: Nanny Goats in Panties
Nicky: We Work for Cheese
Kathy: The Junk Drawer
Cardiogirl: Cardiogirl: 19% body fat 100% fun
Jen: Redhead Ranting
Pierre: Pierre’s Lab

Thanks everyone!  Have fun!

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Farewell, Mr. Handsome

Ten years ago my daughter struggled with picking out a name for our new grey kitten. She couldn’t decide between Sparky and Pickles. So our poor little new family member got stuck with Spickles. I maintain his name was actually Edward, because he deserved something with more dignity. But I mostly called him Mr. Handsome or My Sweet Boy, because he was both of those things.

He was an indoor cat, we live on a busy, busy road. But he and our other cat were always angling to get out. He shot out the back door like a rocket yesterday, as he has done before, never venturing farther than the yard. But this time he didn’t come home. My neighbor called me this morning. Mr. Spickles was lying in front of his house. He apparently had been hit by a car.

My heart is aching. He was gentle and affectionate and would climb on me and cling like a baby if he wanted some cuddling. If you rolled up a piece of crackly paper he would gleefully bat it all over the place. He loved to play with our Corgi (read about her here), they would chase each other back and forth through the length of the house. It added a zoo-like atmosphere at times, but was hilarious to watch. By the time Bella the Maniac Shih Tzu came along I think he just wasn’t up to her shenanigans. Or maybe he simply missed his old friend. At any rate, he definitely was slowing down.

I am so grateful to my neighbor and his friends. So kind and compassionate, they gently placed him in a box for me and carried him back to the house. If they hadn’t called, I don’t know when I would have found him. Their thoughtfulness eased the blow a little.

We will bury him behind the garage, next to Corrie, his racing cohort. Goodbye, Mr. Handsome, my sweet boy. Thank you for ten years of unconditional love.

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Memorial Day

Praying that someday this will be unheard of.

The American Military Cemetery, Bayeux, France

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

From "For the Fallen" by Laurence Binyard, 1914


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Lunch at The Circus

Two of my favorite men took me out to lunch today. My son had to work on Mother’s Day, so we celebrated today. Considering we were dining with a four year old, we opted for The Circus, a drive-in that opened in 1954, the year I was born. I used to take my own kids there when they were little, it is a Shore landmark. They still have car hops! I had a great time, just listening to Shep’s chatter and talking with my son about books and movies, two of our favorite things.

As we were leaving, my son held the door for me and Shep said “Ladies first!!” Such a gentleman at four! I love these handsome guys so much! I am so lucky to have them in my life.

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My Personal Mother's Day

Today, Sunday, April 17, 2011, is the thirty fourth anniversary of my becoming a mother. It is the thirty fourth birthday of my first born.

He was due April 1, so he was maddeningly late. Those last two weeks my mother, grandmother and aunt called me every day to see if there was any news. My aunt worked at the hospital where I was going to have the baby. If she called and I wasn’t home, she would call the Labor and Delivery floor to see if I was there. When I did finally arrive, the nurses all exclaimed, “Mrs. Cooper! We’ve been waiting for you!”

To say I was thrilled with my little boy does not even begin to cover it. He was a beautiful baby, pink and round. And so good! He rarely cried, slept like a log and solemnly took in the world with his big blue eyes.

He was a friendly, engaging toddler, interested in everything, talking non-stop, and always, always wanting to learn. When he was three he had me copy out the alphabet for him and show him the letters for his name so he could learn to write it. On his own he did this. Although the very first thing he wrote were the words “fire truck”, as that was his current obsession.

He was always mature for his years and a hard worker. When he was 13, again all on his own, he went to the local pizza shop and asked for a job. They gave him a broom and he has been working at some job or another ever since.

When he was twenty, he explored the country, working his way across the United States, from Maine, down the east coast to the South and across the South to California. It took him more than a year. I was worried sick the whole time he was gone, but I was so proud of him. Most people only dream of such an adventure, he actually did it.

He worked his way through college and law school, graduating with honors, and now is a respected attorney with a prestigious firm. He chose a lovely woman as his wife.

My sweet and funny little boy has brought me more joy than he will ever know. Nothing will ever change that.

As Robert Munsch wrote in Love You Forever…

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.”

Happy birthday. Thank you for making me a mother.



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April 10, 2011

Where is the time going? It seems as though it simply slips through my fingers and the next thing my children are grown and I am 56 and I wonder how on earth did this happen?

It was only yesterday I was a student in nursing school with four children and a husband. I went to school, managed the kid’s schedules, came home and made dinner for six every night, got the kids washed, homeworked and into bed and then studied myself.

I loved nursing school, even though it was unbelievably stressful and my instructor had singled me out for particular torture, always assigning me the sickest patients and holding me to impossible standards, criticizing everything I did. She couldn’t change my 4.0 average, though, or the fact that I had so much fun with my classmates or the affirmation I received from other nurses who worked with us. So on the whole, I loved it. And the homefront juggling? It just went with the territory, I didn’t think about it, I just did it.

I got my first job, like many new nurses, in a long term care facility. It was just a few blocks from the house, so I walked or rode my bike most days. I fell in love with my patients, 30 souls in varying stages of dementia. Some were silent and vacant, some anxious and frightened, some were simply cheerful and forgetful. The ones who had the worst dementia were always looking for their mothers. We had many patients who were from Scotland and would come to me wringing their hands in distress, telling me their mother was waiting for them in Edinburgh, or Aberdeen, or Glasgow, and they were late and could I please show them where the bus stop was. It is against the law to medicate these people enough to truly relieve their anxiety, so they spent their days miserable and worried. I started telling them I had gotten a message to their mother, or sister, or father, saying they would be late. It always calmed them down. Until they forgot again.

For my hard of hearing patients I made signs. Mary had been a nanny for her whole life. Something had apparently happened to one of her charges, although I never got the straight story because she would put her finger to her lips and say “Shhh! No one must know!”. From the pieces of her story that made sense, it may have been that the child drowned, but also maybe not. However, she obsessed about it. She was very deaf so when she came to me crying, I would hold up three signs I had written in big block letters and covered in plastic. I would flash them one by one as she slowly read them out loud in her Scottish burr, tracing the words with a finger: “Mary, calm down”, “Everything is alright”, and “I love you”. When she got to the last one she would always burst out laughing and hug me and say “Oh, dear, I love you too.” And she would be fine. For a few hours.

Sally was ambulatory and would sit on a chair at my desk saying over and over in a quiet cry “Help me. Help me. Help me.” She got a “You are safe” sign, that I put in her hands. When she remembered to look at it, or when I reached over and moved it into her vision, she calmed down for a little while before starting again.

I had great co-workers and became especially close to the Assistant Director of Nursing. It was she who appeared, looking absolutely stricken, in the door of the room where I was giving out meds one December morning. “Something happened?” I asked, thinking a patient had fallen. She nodded. “It’s not the kids.” she said. And I knew.

So then we were five. My husband had had a heart attack and was buried two days before Christmas. In a panic, I worked three jobs that first year, the nursing home, teaching childbirth classes and working part time for my pediatrician. I got a job as the nurse at our local newspaper and began my business career, working my way up the corporate ladder until I was in executive management in the healthcare field. I raised my kids, bought my own house, traveled, went back to school and got my Master’s and was happy, happy, happy.

When I noticed the numbness in my hands and feet, I didn’t think much of it. Maybe a pinched nerve. I never dreamed it meant losing everything I had worked for. I never imagined it meant a crippling, incurable illness.

Ok, so now I see that’s where the time has gone! Someone once told me about babyhood that the hours were long but the days were short. I think that is true for life as well. All these things took hours and hours to happen, but seem to have gone by in a flash.

I no longer work, although not for lack of trying. All the things that come with a generous paycheck are slipping away. My house will be gone soon, I cannot pay for it and I cannot take care of it anymore. I, who whirled through these years with the confidence of no boundaries, rarely leave the house. I can only wait and see where the future time will go.

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