The Center of my Universe

I was on the shores of a beautiful lake at a Girl Scout camp waiting to take an eager group of Brownies canoeing when I glanced at my phone.  When I saw I had a missed call and voicemail from my Uncle Steve, I knew.  I stepped away from the girls and made the call.  My Grandma Peggy had died.

I confess that I had prayed for that very moment for years.  My Grandma suffered from Alzheimer's
disease and had lingered in an extended care facility for the past six years.  For a while, there seemed to still be a spark of her left; she could carry on a semblance of a conversation.  She'd get lost in the details like what year it was, and who I was.  But she would always smile at me and chitchat pleasantly.  She especially loved it when I would bring The (then kindergarten aged) Boy and The (baby) Girl.  It is a well-known fact that my Grandma ADORED children.  Even when the fog had rolled into her mind and blotted out almost everything, she would always interact with them.

As time went on, she became less coherent, more vacant.  She would make eye contact when I spoke to her, but she wouldn't say much.  She still enjoyed mealtimes, but that was about all that remained of her personality.  Even then, I could get a smile (and sometimes a little giggle out of her) if I would lean over and give her 100 Kisses.  When I was a little girl, my mom used to do that.  She's lean over me and place her lips against my cheek and give me 100 Kisses - puckering her lips and making the kissy sound rapidly.  When The Boy was little, he would allow me to violate his No Kisses Please policy to receive 100 Kisses.  Given her child-like state, I decided to try it with Grandma.  It worked!  When it would come time to say goodbye at the end of a visit, each time I would lean over and give her 100 Kisses.  She'd giggle in (what I hope was) delight and her eyes would flash with love.  In that moment, I knew that she was still My Grandma.

As the years dragged on, her condition deteriorated.  Her mobility declined and she lost the ability to feed herself.   The time between my visits grew longer and longer.  I thought about her often, but seeing her there, in that state was wrenching.  It got to the point where I cried during the entirety of my visits with her.  As she began to lose her power to speak, she was reduced to moaning.  I recall very clearly sitting next to her bed after a visit.  I had given her 100 Kisses, but didn't get much of a response.  She turned to me and moaned, "Take... me... home..."  I put my arms around her neck, whispered, I wish I could and left as quickly as I could.  I made it past the nurses station before the sobs started.  It would be over a year before I could go back to visit.

I struggled with that decision.  I loved my Grandma fiercely.  She was an essential person in my life.  But that person sitting first in the chair, staring blankly into space and later laying in a bed unable to speak beyond a moan was not my Grandma.  My Grandma was solid and stocky with a thick armed hug and a warm smile.  She was a woman who loved children, black coffee and Chinese food, who loved to "go off" on adventures.  My  Grandma watched soap operas and daytime talk shows.  She made pound cakes and pizza puff and the best sausage balls in the whole world.  That was the Grandma I wanted to remember.

That Grandma was the Center of my Universe.  As long as I can  remember, she was a central person in my world.  When my daddy, her son, died much too soon, she stepped in to help care for me.  I spent many summer days at her house, playing with my cousins and watching "the Stories" on TV. When my mom had to rail against the injustice of being left a widow at 25, my grandma picked up  the slack.  She was always placid, always loving - no matter what was going on.  My whole life, she never failed to show up for me.  From the silly concerts and awards ceremonies of childhood to the more serious milestones of adulthood, she was there.  The image of her holding my week-old Boy is one burned into my memory.  Four years later, she came to visit The new baby Girl too, but already she was a changed person.  The harmless forgetfulness we jokingly blamed on cooking with aluminum had grown to something dark, menacing and ugly.  That darkness took her from me long before yesterday, and so in many ways, the final step was more relief than anything else.  Finally, her body could again be reunited with her mind.

When I got the news, I cried a bit. And then I immediately snapped into caretaking mode.  I called my Mom (because no matter how old you are, you never stop wanting your Mommy).  I called the ex to make sure the logistics for The Boy and The Girl were cared for.  I threw myself into the care of those Brownies I was camping with.  It wasn't until later, when everyone else was handled that I  had to take care of me.  At that moment, I had an overwhelming urge to reach out to the last person who had custody of my heart.  Despite the fact that we have not spoken in months now, and we will most likely never speak again, at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to turn to him to take care of me.

But that won't do.

This journey I am on has taught me that I can't escape the pain of this loss by slipping into the old habits of distracting myself from uncomfortable feelings.  Nor can I look to anyone else to shoulder this burden for me. It HAS to be me.  I will honor my Grandma by being the strong woman she helped to teach me to be.  I've often said that my Grandma was the Center of my Universe; she was the person who loved me best in the whole world.  I've learned enough to know that that, too, has to be me.  And so it shall be.

Goodbye Grandma.  I love you very very much.  Rest in Peace.

The Gut Knows

I was having a discussion this week about decision making.  So many of the people I talk to - myself included - struggle with decision making.  Sometimes, it's the act of deciding which path to take that causes the trouble.  Sometimes, it's taking the steps required to set the plan into action where we get stuck.  Or, once the decision is made, it's the doubt and second guessing that paralyze us.  Or if you're one of the lucky ones, it's all three!!

The discussion I was having broke down decision making into three essential influences:

HEAD

HEART

GUT

As the discussion went on, someone posited that - while all are necessary - most people are governed by one more than the other three.  If that's true, I started to wonder who's in charge with me?

I admit, when I have a decision to make, I do rely on my Head a fair bit.  I like to look at the facts, do the research, and run the scenarios before making a decision.  But, my Head knows her place in the process;  she does her job and then steps aside to let the magic happen.

My Heart... Well, my Heart is another story.  When it comes to blockage of decision making, it's definitely Heart that is the one gumming up the works.  She has a selective memory and VERY selective sight. She ignores many of the well-chosen facts that my lovely Head provides.  Heart is the one who can't seem to cut the ties.  She's the part of me that says Maybe if you try just a little bit harder...  Have you looked at it THIS way?  If you just changed THIS, and tweaked THAT, might it work then?  Heart is the part of me that believes in the best, most pure intentions of others.  My Heart is the piece that go back over and over, looking for a way to  some how make it work.  Poor Heart means well, but she's far too naive and much too easy to forgive.  She only sees the best and ignores the rest.

My problem comes because Heart drags Head into her mess.  She takes the facts Head provides and tries to cast them in different lights.  And because Head loves to be analytical, she gets in on Heart's game.  Together they waste so much time going round and round and round again.  It's pretty clear that Heart has been running the show.

Meanwhile, there is Gut.  Gut had stuff figured out from the jump.  She took one look at the situation, glanced over the facts Head provided and had a decision made before Heart even realized there was a job to do.  But for whatever reason, I don't ever seem to listen to Gut.  Either because her voice isn't forceful enough, or because I feel more safe relying on Head and Heart, I just don't seem to trust Gut. 

 So she just kind of sits there and waits for Head and Heart and me to catch up.

Sometimes, it takes months or even years, but the thing is, I do get there... eventually.  And when that finally happens, I look back over all the evidence that Head provided, sift through all the obfuscation Heart contributed, and find Truth, sitting there, right in front of Gut.  It's at that moment when I think  Wow, Gut.  You knew that all along.  I really do need to start listening to you.  

And I imagine Gut's response:

So since life all about learning, going forward - today I vow to start listening to Gut earlier in the process.  After all, when given the Hindsight Examination, she really has proven to have an amazing track record.  So, instead of letting Heart run the show, I'm going to start letting Gut take the lead in the decision-making process.  Who knows?  Maybe I can reduce my decision making lag time from 4-5 years down to a month or two.    Hey!  A girl can dream, can't she?

A Walk in the Woods

Is there anything better than a beautiful Spring day when the weather is warm and breezy, and the sun is shining brightly in a Carolina blue sky?

How about being out in the woods, climbing over a rocky path and you find some sweet little flowers growing between the rocks?

 What about running into a friend who you like immensely, but don't know nearly well enough, who gives you a tip about a great spot slightly off the trail?

What about having the time to sit on the banks of a river?  

It's enough to inspire some bad poetry. 

Or watching some turtles sunning themselves on a fallen log?

 I don't know that it gets much better than that.

Blessings of a Windy Day

All week I've been craving a Walk in the Woods.  I tried to sneak one in on Sunday, but my timing was off.  I got to do a little wandering, but today I was craving the whole deal.  I wanted to wander deep into the woods and lose myself for a little while.  With that in mind, I headed out to Lake Crabtree Park after work.

Lake Crabtree is one of my favorite parks in the Triangle for a few reasons.  First, it's relatively close to Chez Kaye and is right off I-40.  It's rarely crowded - at least when I've been there.  But the most compelling reason why I love this park is the lake itself.  There is something wonderful to me about being near the water.  Water and I have a complex relationship.  I love being near it, love being on it, beside it, around it, but I really do not like being IN it.  I love water, but I hate being wet.  I know.  It's a little weird.  But I digress.

Today when  I got there, I got turned around and ended up on the short trail.  It wasn't the Walk in the Woods I was hoping for, but it did give me the opportunity to spend some time reading and sketching at a picnic table by the water.  It was a perfect day.  It was about 70 degrees, sunny and clear, with a wonderful stiff breeze coming off the lake.  I was there around 4pm, so the sun was getting low in the sky.  It was glorious.

My photo doesn't do it justice.
That thing was SO COOL!

As I sat reading my book, I just felt so... happy.  In my immediate view, a gentleman was flying kites at the lake's edge.  He had a huge white tiger kite, and attached to that was a circular kite - about 5 feet in diameter.  I couldn't take my eyes off that thing as it undulated in the air.  I watched a dad with his two kids trying to go fishing, and said a little Thank you for this moment prayer.

I dove back into my book and was a little startled when a friendly voice called to me, "Hey!  Would you like to fly a kite?"  I looked up to see a kindly older gentleman heading my way.  I looked around to make sure he wasn't talking to someone standing behind me.  When I verified that he was talking to me, I enthusiastically replied, "Yes!  I really would!"

The gentleman's name was Scott.  He taught kite flying classes and workshops in the area and had a car FULL of gear.  He had come in to meet another kite-flying friend of his, Kip, so while they were rustling up their materials, he pulled out a simple two string kite for me to try.  I told him the only kite flying I had done was with The Boy's penguin kite that we bought at Target.  He assured me this would be a little bit different.

I started out on a 150 ft. line, and Scott showed me how to secure the grips while you rolled out the line.  I learned how to use a lark's head knot to secure the kite to the line, and finally how to launch the kite.  Basically, once it's in the air, if you want the kite to go left, you tug on the left line, to go right, tug on the right.  Sounded pretty simple.

Scott helped me launch the kite, and it was off.  The first time the kite took flight, I felt the lines tug hard in my hands.  It pulled me forward half a step, because I wasn't expecting the strength of the wind, but I quickly got my bearings.  I only brought the kite down twice before getting the hang of

the ebb and flow of the gales.  After a few moments of adjustment, it was just me and the lines in a playful game of tug o'war with the wind.  Scott commented that he'd only seen one other beginner handle a kite as well as I did - and she was a Kitty Hawk with steadier winds.  I was very pleased with myself.  I must have spent half an hour just watching the kite rise and fall with the winds.  I learned how to tug just right if it looked like she was going down, and I managed to keep her aloft most of that time.

After a few moments, Scott brought out a more advanced kite for me to try.  This one was sharp!  It

I tried to photograph Stingray, but
all you could see was the line.  So here
is a shot of me - enjoying the day.

was purple and blue and shaped like a stealth bomber.  It's name was Stingray.  We tied the lines to this new kite, and he showed me how to put my arms out straight in front of me and tug - hard - to launch it into the air.  Where the first kite was slow and easy, this one was zippy and exciting.  It wasn't long before I managed to spin in around once or twice and make it swoop down and back up again.  It was SO MUCH FUN!  After an hour of flying and chatting with Scott, it was time for me to call it a day.

As I was helping Scott pack up, he said, "I want you to take this one and fly it with your kids."  He handed Stingray to me.  I couldn't believe it!  He loaded me up with a line, straps, and all the stuff I would need sent me on my way.  I couldn't stop smiling the whole way home!

The entire experience was lovely - from the beautiful day, to the patience of an unexpected teacher, to the lovely gift.  I'm constantly amazed at the wonderful things that happen when I least expect it.

It really was a a surprise and a blessing.  It was,  as my friend Sarah called it: A God Moment.  An absolutely beautiful one!