der, die, das...er, sie, es...ein, eine, ein...

My room in Bremen.

Well, there hasn't been a whole lot of new and exciting action going on since last week.  Studying and wandering the streets of Bremen mostly.  Sleep has been somewhat lacking, not because I've been out, but because there are so many things going on in my mind that I struggle to turn it off at night.  Quite frequently the last few nights I am waking up and can't figure out where I am.  The first thing I do is look for Madelaine...she's not there.  I have avoided looking at pictures of her (except the one at the top of this page!) because I can't stand it.  However, I noticed I wore some of her fur to class today.

A few of us at Becks Brewery...which I still don't like to drink.

Sunday afternoon I played Fußball with the guys in a grassy park.  Of course my team of three (Team USA!) got our hineys kicked in two of the three games by Team Tanzania, of two.  Oh well.  All was fun anyway.  (Catch that? I just said I had fun losing...that doesn't happen often!)

Yesterday and today we had a "substitute" teacher for our German class and the poor woman had zero patience for us.  It's not that we goof around or are not serious, it was more the university professor trying to teach kindergarten.  She hovered over us watching every letter each of us wrote and when we made a mistake, she'd snatch our pens and pencils out of our hands, hastily scratch out what we'd written and make German grunts at us.  I think we all survived and desperately hope our normal teacher is back tomorrow!  Our first exam was yesterday and our second is tomorrow.  And, I'm here writing this as an excuse not to study.

How frustrating shopping is everywhere one goes. Teagan was on a hat-finding mission this afternoon so I went along.  Hats are amazing!!!  Anyway, I found a pair of knit wool mittens on sale.  Nowhere did they say "Made in..." and giving "Icelandic Design" the benefit of the doubt, I bought them, only to find in my Google research that they came from China or Nepal.  I turned down the winter hat I was nearly attached to because it was made in China.  At least North Face admitted where the hat was made!  Oh well.  Live and learn and now I have mittens in Germany that were made in Nepal or China for a company based in Colorado.  I might wear them to bed tonight.

Pax.

Bremen!

Today was the third day of my four-week intensive German course in Bremen, through the Goethe Institut.  The first day was orientation and placement testing so I had most of the day free.  Placement tests are quick when one doesn't know much.  During the process, I met Fern, my new friend from England.  We walked the streets of Bremen for over five and a half hours Monday afternoon.  She taught me about the term "bloke" and we conversed about the meaning of "pants" in our cultures.  Not only am I learning German, I'm also learning English!

Bremen Town Musicians

Of course, the Bremen Town Musicians statue had to be my first find.  Everything in Bremen has some mark of these critters, including the fabric on the tram seats. 


Unser Lieben Frauen Kirche
Windows by French painter Alfred Manessier.



Bell tower of St Petri Dom...on the way up with Fern.

My calling to be a suit of armor has not disappeared since I was the Wartburg College mascot in the Homecoming parade.  Though, I have no desire to wear one again, it's still one of my romantic ideas. 


Fern and me.




Saturday's flea market along the riverwalk.







St Petri Dom





This is St Petri Dom, the Lutheran cathedral in which I worshipped in on Sunday morning.  What an amazing experience as, not for the first time and hopefully not the last, I was able to follow the German liturgy by the rhythms and patterns.  As much as so many dislike "traditional" services because of the liturgy, it does indeed unite us across cultures and languages, across time and space.

One of the things I am quite enjoying about Germany is that if I'm going to do something stupid, nobody is going to put a fence up and tell me not to.  If I hurt myself, it's my own fault.  Now, I'm not going around trying to get myself in trouble, but I love the freedom in not being protected from myself.  This is a good place for me to be--a place in life where I can be the person I know I am and not get in trouble for standing in the nook of the tower or going down the slide in the city playground--the simple but fun bits of life that I've missed because I never allowed myself to break rules, even if they were stupid rules.  Remember when Mom offered me $1 to get my name on the board at school and I wouldn't do it? 



The scenic route from my hostel to downtown.



Die Sögestraße und die Schweine







By the way, there are pigs everywhere in Bremen.  Stuffed pigs.  Pig decorations.  Pig statues.  Then there's the pork.






Pax.

Leavin' on a jet plane...don't know when I'll be back again!

Well, it's been all smooth so far...a few hours into the trip. Of course, I didn't make it through security in Minneapolis because I failed to take my Chapstick out of my pants pocket. However, I also failed to take my baggie of liquids out of my carry-on...which nobody said anything about. Go figure.

Another observation that I'm not sure I've thought of before, at least not deeply. It's really a pain to have to take all your stuff into the stall with you to pee. Nobody to guard bags. Not that the 4 guys I went to Guyana with in January...'nother story.  Well, it's too funny not to write.  We'd just landed in the Georgetown airport in Guyana, 4 guys from Wartburg and I, and we were standing an an immobile line to get through...something. Anyway, I figured since the line wasn't moving I'd run and go.  Had no idea when we'd see another bathroom.  So, as I'm walking toward the Women's door, a lady standing outside the Men's grabs my arm and says, "Right here!" and shoves me through the door into the men's room. The room was empty so I though, "Well, maybe the ladie's room is out of order and that woman is going to guard the door." Not so much. I'm ready to leave my stall and men start walking in, of course stopping at the urinals right by the door out.  Do I stay in my stall until they leave or do I just leave?  I waited a bit but men just kept coming in, so I washed my hands and left as quickly and indescretely as a white female in a Guyanese men's bathroom can leave.  As I walk out the door, all 4 guys are standing in line watching for me, laughing hysterically, "We were wondering what you were going to do!"

Anyway, on to Germany.  Here I am, settled into the 5-bed "girl's room" at Townside Hostel.  The closer to Munich the plane got, the more I started to panic--the "estimated arrival" was creeping closer and closer to being late and I already had less than 50 minutes to get through customs, check in, pass security, and be on my next plane.  But, then I thought, you know, mix-ups are half the adventure!  So what if I miss the plane?  There are other ways to get from Munich to Bremen!"  But, since German Customs are nothing like the USA, I didn't even have to collect my checked bags.  Nobody asked me why I was entering the country.  Only when I was trying to find my way out of the Bremen airport (carrying both checked bags and both carry-ons in my two scrawny little arms) did I get pulled off to the side to be quite gently interrogated about whether I'd brought anything like cheese from home.

Being too tired to do much but trying not to sleep too early, I wandered the streets for a bit, found some of the gummiest spaghetti to eat, and now I'm ready to crash for good. Oh, by the way, all my websites are in German and if I spell check, everything is spelled wrong...Day 1 in Germany.

Pax.

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

Exodus 3:1-15
Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God.²There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed.³Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.”⁴When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.”⁵Then he said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.”⁶He said further, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.
⁷Then the Lord said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings,⁸and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites.⁹The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them.¹⁰So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.”
¹¹But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”¹²He said, “I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.”¹³But Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?”¹⁴God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” He said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’“¹⁵God also said to Moses, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you’: This is my name forever, and this my title for all generations.


Here we have this strange, yet well-known story of God appearing to an unsuspecting Moses in the crazy unburning flames of a bush. Remember Moses’ story: he is saved from Pharaoh’s orders to kill all Israelite boys and floated in a basket in the river for Pharaoh’s daughter to find. Now Moses has grown up, married Zipporah, has a son, and is out “beyond the wilderness” shepherding his father-in-law’s sheep on Mount Horeb. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees fire, a strange fire that does not burn, and out of curiosity, Moses turns to find himself face to face with God.

What strikes me about this story is God’s first instruction to Moses: “Stop. Take off your shoes.” In reading this, I did stop. I had to ask, “What is this all about?” God explains this command: “The place you are standing is holy ground.” But, what makes it holy? It’s out in the middle of nowhere, “beyond the wilderness” for crying out loud. On top of that, here is Moses, stinky and dirty, his sandals full of sheep you-know-what. Moses has fled from Egypt after murdering an Egyptian. Not only is he full of dirt and stink, he’s a murderer with Pharaoh out to get him. Yet, in spite of Moses’ filth and criminal record, this ground where he stands is holy—made holy by God’s presence.

This summer I was a chaplain intern at Rockford Memorial Hospital in IL as part of my seminary training. As a chaplain intern, I was involved in visits to patients and working with both the pastoral services department and as a member of the team of doctors, nurses, and others working for the healing of patients. Spiritual healing was my focus when I entered a patient’s room. What spiritual issues is this person struggling with? What worries her about her injury? What in his life is going to change because of this illness? Is this person angry at God? Many ask, “Why is God doing this to me?” As I sought to walk with each patient and family member through questions—many without answers—I was invited into the depths of people’s lives, the sorrow, pain, and suffering. Sometimes, together we found joy walking these dark paths. Sometimes we found only more darkness. And, I cannot tell you how many times I, as Chaplain, was given a greater sense of hope by the patients than I could ever hope to bring them. Walking on holy ground.

Like Moses, we all have stinky muck on our shoes. Perhaps we don’t all have criminal records, but we all are convicted of sin. We come to church Sunday after Sunday, looking as cleaned up as we can in hopes that nobody will know what we are really like. Heaven forbid my neighbor sees me in my filth, with dirt under my nails. We are embarrassed by our physical ailments, injuries, or illnesses. We are afraid to admit we can no longer do the things we used to do. We are afraid our real thoughts might slip out. We are afraid to be known for who we really are, that we won’t be loved because of the stink on our shoes.

Yet, God calls to Moses in spite of his stink and what he has done. God says to Moses from the bush, “I have observed the misery of my people…I have heard their cry…Indeed, I know their sufferings and I have come down to deliver them…and bring them up” to a better life in “a land flowing with milk and honey.” God calls to you, invites you to stand on holy ground. God observes your suffering, hears your cries, and has come to deliver you, as we all stand together at the foot of the cross. The same God who met Moses in a strange fieryOne who has come to you in the incarnate Son, Jesus Christ. God calls you and me to enter each other’s lives deeply, to care for one another’s needs, to know each other as we really are. You, the real you, are child of God, walking through life on God’s holy ground, loved and forgiven.

Pax.

Rockford and CPE Week 11

First, my fun quote of the week.  My dear friend, Andrea, posted on Facebook, "Stop marrying straight people altogether, because they're the ones making gay babies!"  Thank you, Andrea for making obvious the over-abundance of ridiculousness.

Friday was my final day of this unit of CPE.  I am going to refrain from commenting on the week as it wasn't a particularly pleasant one.  Yet, my final evaluation with the supervisor couldn't have been better.  Then I spent the afternoon toodling around Rock Cut State Park with Brother Roar Mouse, Friar Hans.

This weekend included mostly sleep and packing, though my brain is always going, going, going trying to process all that has happened in the last 11 weeks and how that relates to the rest of my life--past and future.  A lack of self-worth is what has limited my ability to succeed at what I know I am capable of.  It shows up in everything I do--riding is where it's been the most painful.  What would have become of my A testings had I, deep down, believed I deserved it?  I am angry that this has been my stumbling block and especially that I did not reach my first real life goal:  the A rating, the highest level in the United States Pony Club.  Now it's too late.  Shucks to grow up.  I need to figure out how to let go of the A and celebrate that I reached the level I did reach, the H-A.  My lack of self-worth has been a problem for a long time, but not until seminary did it start to interfere so deeply.  It's going to be a long healing process.

I have so much to write and at the same time I don't want to write publicly until I process a whole lot more. (Does that say, INTROVERT?)  The next three days are so packed full, I'm not sure I'll ever get everything straight and on time.  Heading to Dubuque tomorrow morning, then on to Jesup for the night.  To Waverly on Wednesday and on to Bloomington for the night.  Thursday morning I need to get home in order to take care of a number of other things.  I hope an afternoon of fishing is included in Thursday.  Also some Shiney time.  A last good gallop across the field with my girlie would be amazing. 

Pax.

Rockford and CPE Weeks 9 and 10

Actually, I'm skipping the specifics of week 9.  The ideas carry over to week 10 and now we're beginning week 11 so I'd better finish this one up!

Tuesday of week 10.
Eight days of CPE to go.  How can a day be bad when it starts off with listening to "Little Red Riding Hood" with Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, followed by worship?  Today was my final supervisory session, and the first one that I came out of with more energy than I went in with.  That means I've gone somewhere with all this self-reflection.  My statement that sums up the experience:  "This has been a summer of having my insides ripped  out--but I had fun doing it."

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/david-lose/4-good-reasons-not-to-read-bible-literally_b_919345.html

How do I read the Bible? This article says it, and for me, is summarized by David Lose in his statement, "What binds the various and sundry texts found in the Bible together may be precisely that they are all inspired by the authors' experience of the living God."  I like the idea of reading the Bible as how people experienced God in their lives.  Yet, I can see that this statement (and article!) brings up strong reactions from people who find in it a weakening of biblical authority.  What differentiates these texts from others, then?  I find that reading it as the people's experience of God allows for a much deeper and broader connection to my own life, remembering that everyone experiences God in different ways, and one is not necessarily more "correct" than another.


Thursday of Week 10. 
Another fabulous start to the day.  Ok, maybe not, but I'm still laughing about it.  8:00 AM, I'm waiting for the night chaplain to return and give me the pager for my day on call.  The phone rings in the office about 8:03, she is in ICU with a family and would I come relieve her.  After telling the supervisor where I was headed (since I would most likely miss part of the usual morning routine), I proceed to pull the door knob off his office door.  8:05.

As we wrap up these 11 weeks of CPE, I am reflecting on the roller coaster it has been.  I have done my best to be open to honest feedback from my peers and supervisor.  At the same time I have struggled with my preference of being "tough" and stoic.  Hitting the core of my pain leaves me speechless and choked up.  Nope. Can't let it show. Don't mess up your face.  Live up to your Scandinavian reputation.  Crap.  Then Barry tells me to stop "dipping your roses in shit!"  To explain what "dipping my roses" means...when someone gives me a compliment, I respond with, "Yes, but..." and negate the compliment, hence "dipping my rose in shit."   Apparently I have to stop doing that.   Crap.  I try to rationalize that I'm simply fertilizing, but it doesn't go over.  The solution we came up with is that I'm going to wear the shock collar and Barry gets to hold the button. That way when I "dip my roses in shit" he can zap me.  Crap.  Barry's Shock Therapy.

Ruffie in Mom's rosebush.

On the other end, I have come to an acceptance of what my struggle in life really is--the struggle that everything else comes out of.  There is a certain amount of peace in reaching this point.  Getting here has not been easy.  I also know that it's only the beginning of healing and becoming whole.  It's going to get harder again, but this is a welcome rest from an exhausting journey.



Pax.

Rockford and CPE Week 8

Three weeks left.  This experience that I spent so much energy dreading this last school year is coming to an end.  And, what an incredible experience it has been!

As I get more and more excited about leaving for Germany, I am also beginning to panic. How on earth am I going to go 11 months without Madelaine? I was pondering the other day about how much comfort critters bring. I wake up at night and look to see where Madelaine is. I am comforted when she is curled up on the pillow and pile of blankets next to the bed. When I reach out to touch her, she acknowledges me with a little squeak, and we both go back to sleep. Not only do they comfort us, they give grannies something to do and something to worry about. 

Granny and Elijah

I call my Granny and she says, "'Lijah follows me everywhere and he meows at me all the time."   What she doesn't say is that when he's not following her around meowing, she is following him around, needing to know where he is every 5 seconds.   I know how 'Lijah feels when she tries to lug him around and cuddle him...that used to be me being lugged.

Holy moments.  I was sitting with a 92yo lady during her last half hour in the hospital before Hospice came to pick her up. She couldn't talk much, so we just sat holding hands, her fading in and out. Every once in a while, she would open her eyes and sort of look at me and drift off again. Then she opened her eyes, looked right at me and smiled, then drifted off. Holy moments. Deep joy and deep sorrow. 

In moments like these, I am stripped of all the things that I hang my identity on. My eyes are opened to see the things that matter, what frivolous things we chase after.  I want to scream at the TV playing on the wall, the DIRECTV commercial playing between sections of some cooking show.  What does DIRECTV have to do with life?  So many things we chase after that really don't matter...


Pondering quote from "Open-Hearted Ministry":

"Authentic selfhood in God is about not denying or disregarding aspects of ourselves, but embracing our full selves just as God does." (Koppel, 48)

Pax.

Rockford and CPE Week 7

Time is flying by, I have more verbatims done than I have left to write.  As tough as CPE has been these last 7 weeks, they have been some of the most healing weeks of my life.  I think this past week, I sweated out all the stress, with our AC unit doing exactly what it was supposed to do:  keep the apartment 20 degrees cooler than the outside temp...so when it's 110 degrees outside, the apartment is a refreshing 90. Uff Da!  Iga, Madelaine, and I took Lynn up on her offer to stay in her cold basement one unbearably hot night.  Thanks, Lynn!  Today has been better, thankfully.  I even put a sweat shirt on.

Iga and I were laughing this morning.  I said, "We have no life.  All we can come up with to do on a Saturday morning is watch 'The Wizard of Oz.'"  Iga pointed out that "Most people sleep 'till Noon on Saturday."  So, I spent the morning psychoanalyzing Dorothy, Tin Man, Lion, and Scarecrow...and the Wizard, of course!  Thanks, CPE.

Nothing much to write about this week.  I'm still struggling with the question of where I can do the most good...in the church or out.  Same general thoughts as last post.

This week, my best story comes from an 80-some year old lady, absolutely full of piss 'n vinegar.  I was visiting with her and her daughter and the patient was explaining to me in great detail her troubles with diarrhea that day.  Then she paused and said, "You know, a couple weeks ago, I wanted to wear my white pants but I was afraid that something might escape out my back end.  Then I had this idea.  I lined the inside of my pants with Press 'n Seal.  It worked really well, but it was hot!"  Her daughter responded, laughing, "As long as you put it in the right way.  Otherwise it will stick to your ass."  Learn something new every day!  Actually, I'd never heard of Press 'n Seal before so I had to look it up!

Quote for thought from "Pastoral Care Emergencies":
"We...know that we're imperfect Christians, sinners ourselves, saved by grace, this strange mixture of those who want to follow Jesus, to serve our Lord by serving all of God's creatures, knowing that God loves all persons just as much as God loves me--but not really.
"Totally apart from what we believe and feel about homosexual persons, drug users, and prostitutes, can we serve them in the name of Christ when they are in need?" (Switzer, 95)

Organizing the Tupperware...somebody's got to do it!

Pax.

Rockford and CPE Weeks 5 and 6

Life didn't slow down after my long weekend over the 4th.  First, my fun visit of the week.  It went something like this:

As I am talking to the daughter of an 84-year-old patient, the nurse is trying to do some things with the patient.  The lady, struggling with dementia, is putting up a bit of a fight, saying, "No! No! No!" to everything the nurse is trying to do.  The nurse pauses and says, "What is your favorite word?"  The patient stops fussing, thinks for a moment and then says quite forcefully, "Shit."

Diving deeper into the struggles and pain of my own life in attempt to understand and be able to access them when situations call for deep empathy is draining, a lot of slow, tough, slogging through messiness.  I have my CPE group and supervisor to thank for being supportive listeners, though, it's these very people pushing me into the places I don't want to go!  I finished "Make Friends with Your Shadow" last weekend.  

Some quotes:
"How conveniently we block our demons from our awareness and end up devoid of authentic spirituality but saturated with slushy sentiment and syrupy self-righteousness." (Miller, 71)

"My ego would like very much to get rid of my shadow because of the power it has to embarrass me or get me into serious trouble with society.  While my ego is standing, facing society, looking through my persona, my shadow is regularly poking it in the back saying, 'Hey, hey, I'm here.'  And my ego, without turning around keeps smiling at society through my persona, all the while elbowing my shadow into the background of my psyche and muttering to it out of the corner of its mouth, 'Get back down there and shut up, you devil.'" (Miller, 83)

"To the extent that I have to be right and good, he, she, they, or it will become the carrier of all the evil, real and potential, which I do not acknowledge within myself." (Miller, 93)

Yes, my shadow is always attached to me, can't do anything about it.  If I think I can chase it away or squash it or just pretend it isn't there, I'm lying to myself and eventually, it will get the better of me.  Besides, it's a part of me, I might as well get to know it, right?  The things that annoy me about you are probably the same things that annoy me about myself.  Is this why I get annoyed by the teenagers partying in the parking lot under our apartment window at 3:00 AM?  Deep down, I wish I was out partying and drinking and smoking who-knows-what and whatever else is going on in the cars out there?  Hmmm...

I also read a good portion of Yalom's "The Theory and Practice of Group Psychotherapy" over the last few weeks.  The combination of these two books has me thinking about group dynamics and the church.  So often I hear, "I'm spiritual but not religious." or "I'm not into organized religion." or "Church just doesn't do it for me." and the list continues.  What is it about the church that is turning people away? 

What if the church as a whole and each member that makes up the church "made friends with their shadows" and quit pretending to be "good Christians" all the time?  So often, we get caught up in how we are supposed to act and behave that we lose track of who we really are.  Sure, everyone can say, "We're all sinners that fall short..." but do we act that way?  Why are we always looking at others and saying how they sure don't act like Christians or comparing ourselves to others who make mistakes in order to make ourselves look better?  We get so caught up in making sure everyone follows the rules...the rules we decide are important. 

Someone decided that homosexuality is a sin (which I don't believe) and therefore homosexuals ought not be part of the church without willingness to "repent" and change (I believe even less!).  Ok, when was the last time you were late (or not even because you were late, just impatient!) and you drove 50mph in the 45 zone?  You got it.  That's a sin, too.  Breaking the laws our government provides is a sin, too.  Therefore, you shouldn't be allowed to be a part of the church either.  I'm included in that, not for speeding (if you know how I drive!) but for feeling quite pleased with myself for going the speed limit and irritating those who would like to speed, but can't because I'm in front.  So what makes one sin worse than another?  Your opinion.  My opinion.  It's the fact that we have all turned away from God that is the problem.  Our individual sins are only a symptom of just that.  Point is, the church IS full of hypocrites when we pretend we are "good Christians" when we are doing nothing but denying and repressing who we really are.

To bring in Yalom,
"In much of America the past two decades [This book was published already in 1970] have witnessed an inexorable decomposition of social institutions which ordinarily provide for human intimacy."  He goes on, "The institutions which provide intimacy in our culture have atrophied and their replacements--the supermarket, dial-a-prayer, and the television set--are the accoutrements of the lonely crowd."
"As the future comes upon us, a periodic social immersion--a rehumanization station (God forbid)--may become a necessity if we are to survive the relentless dehumanizing march of a socially blind scientific technology." (Yalom, 360)

Where I'm going with this is that the church, being so caught up in black and white, right and wrong, good Christian or non Christian, all too often and hypocritically fails to acknowledge its shadow.  There is no intimacy in this.  (Yes, I just called the church hypocritical.  Have a muffin and get over it.)  At a time when social intimacy is difficult to find, the church is  instead worrying about who is "good" and following the rules.  Imagine what the church would be like, what ministry could it could do if it focused on what people need rather than how people act... What is the church really about?  Love and grace, perhaps?

Ponder. Pax.

Rockford and a Crazy End to CPE Week 4

Saturday night was full of opportunities to think and reflect on life and death and fears.  It was a night on call that I hope never to repeat.  In between responding to pages and families grieving the death of their loved ones, it occurred to me for the first time, how much fear there is around dying alone.  I've heard it before, "I'm afraid to die alone." and "I just don't want my loved one to be alone to die."  but I've never connected with the fear this deeply before.  I guess, being 25 and living the lifestyle I am, I assumed that if I die in the near future, it will be a quick death and I won't have time to think about it.  I'd rather keep thinking this way, I like denial!  Yet, my denial does not include the fact that there is a chance life will be shorter than longer.  I will always remember the day in college when my professor said on the first day of class, "Alyssa, you are going to die falling off your horse and breaking your neck."  I responded, "Yeah, probably around 37.  That's fine as long as the horse walks away."  Don't be offended.  It's morbid.  That's okay.  Death is real.  But yes, thinking about it, I don't want anyone to die alone, two-legged or four-legged, furry or feathery or bare skin.  Four deaths Saturday night.  Three of them surrounded by family, the other had family arrive within minutes. 

I had a dream one night a few years ago that I was, at 22, diagnosed with some sort of illness that would be a long and painful road.  I was given the option of euthanasia, which I opted for, completely okay with being euthanized myself.  The point of telling this part of my dream is that I was surrounded by my family and friends who came to say good-bye and to grieve with me.  This is so true of my family, who even when we are states apart, never leaves my side.

Horse pasture and what used to be my deer stand.

It has also been a struggle this weekend to be here in Rockford while Grantsburg begins the long haul of clean-up and getting back on its feet after Friday evening's storm. Every news station and article gives a different number for wind, up to 109 mph. How sad that all those neat old oaks are gone, and that they did so much damage on the way down. It was all I could do to not get in the truck and drive home Friday night, but resisted, trying to convince myself that the world will keep turning even if I don't go home to help. Besides, Granny Pearl would have killed me if I was out cutting and hauling trees.

Pictures taken by my momma!

Granny's front yard.

House across the street from my grandma's.

Oh a happy note, my new best friend is my little bottle of Prednisone!  I could tell a difference in my ribs the first day on it.  Of course there's still a lot of snapping and popping going on in my ribcage, but the discomfort is much less.  Just hoping that the pain doesn't come back when I'm off it.  It's so frustrating to not be able to do anything.  The rule I got from both docs I've seen the last 2 weeks is, "If it hurts, don't do it."  So I come home emotionally shot from CPE but have no way of getting rid of my energy.  So I eat.  That's healthy, right?  (My lunch today is a bag of Double Chocolate Milano cookies...)

Speaking of emotional eating, while on call Saturday night, (before the chaos began) I found a DVD on the shelf called, "The Science of Meditation."  It was quite interesting and after watching it, I came across the "Tree of Contemplative Practices." 

http://www.contemplativemind.org/practices/tree.html

I find this fascinating and fun.  There is a good explanation of each of the listed practices, but there is also a blank tree that one can fill out with different practices.  So many of these things are things we all do daily but we fail to be aware of what it is we are doing and how it affects us and others.  As silly as it sounds, there is something to the "mindful eating."  How often do we inhale our food without even knowing what it is?  Here's a snippet to spark your curiosity:  "Set your plate in front of you. Look carefully at the food.  Slowly place the food in your mouth, notice the explosion of flavor and sensation of the food in your mouth, on your tongue."  Check it out.

Pax.