Monsters, Saints and Other Dead People

This is a very interesting time of year. Halloween, followed by All Saints Day, followed by All Souls Day...yes, very interesting.

Halloween, for some reason, has never been one of my favorites. I always felt pressured as a child to get my costume just right, and, if I did, my mother always ruined it by making me wear my coat or something. As an adult, I just never have liked the darkness or absurdity associated with it. Blood and gore and witchcraft and superheroes and walking dominoes are just not my thing. I do realize, however, that dressing up is fun and I am always happy to give candy to cute little monsters. I still chuckle over my surprise four nights ago when after opening the door to about a dozen 3 ft. tall pink princesses and miniature spidermen in a row, I opened the door bending down in anticipation of another cute little trick or treater and actually jumped at the sight of a lone black 6' TALL robed teenager with no face. I got tricked into thinking all my "monsters" would be little ones. Isn't that just like life? Just when you think you have figured out how to deal with all the surprises at your doorstep, life gives you a real monster of a challenge. I know I have been lulled into this false sense of security many times. I thought I had wrestled with monsters all year as we faced financial crisis, loss of friends, a move across country, separation from my spouse, empty nest syndrome, etc. Then, we open our door and Leukemia casts its menacing glare at us. Anyway, I just really don't like Halloween that much.

In contrast, the next day is the Catholic tradition that I LOVE, we celebrate All Saints Day. (You know...Hallowe'en = Eve of All Hallows Day) This is a day I can embrace. Dwelling on all the earthly heroes that left their mark on the earth as good and holy, humble yet courageous and all that stuff I ain't. But I can hope, and I can dream, and I can 'dress up' in the virtues they represent. Maybe if I 'play' saint long enough, I will finally figure out how to 'be' saint. I often imagine my favorites standing with me when I need them during the day helping me battle the challenges that I face. It gives me great comfort. Indeed, I have put it on paper and in 'the file' that I want the Litany of the Saints sung at my funeral. I will call on them till the bitter end to help me reach my goal.

Then, yesterday, the Church celebrated All Souls Day. That's the day we remember and pray for all those who didn't quite make the mark for a straight shot into heaven. They're the ones who are headed there but probably get to the gate and say, "Whoa! I can't go in dressed like this! Give me a minute while I find a nice enough outfit." Yeah, and depending on the shape of their closet, especially if it's anything like mine, it may take awhile. That'll be most of us. So, I like this day because I know there will be people praying for me someday to help me 'finish what's lacking' before I enter the party.

Honestly, after three days of celebrating 'dead people', my mind turned to the memory of my father. I have confidence that he has joined the 'heroes' beyond and stands with them in supporting me through my life challenges. He was a hero to me in my life as a little girl, and although as an adult I now know he was not as perfect as I perceived him then, he was a noble and forthright man who loved me very much. My memory of him is still one of admiration and great affection, but my strongest memory is of his passing.

There are so many things in this life we assume will always be there for us. I think our parents are one of those things when we are young. To lose a parent in your youth really shakes your world to its core.

When I was 16 years old, I had charge of my younger brothers and sisters one Friday evening while my parents had an invitation to dinner at friends'. My sister Valerie and I were supposed to be sharing the babysitting job, but neither of us were doing a very good job. She was gabbing on the phone with who knows who and I was engrossed in a suspenseful movie on the television. We later discovered that at least one of our five younger charges were down the street in their pajamas playing with friends at the end of the cul de sac. I know, great babysitters, huh?!

Anyway, at some point earlier my mother told us that she was not waiting for my daddy's arrival any longer and to tell him when he arrived home from work to just meet her at their destination. Val and I both assumed the other had seen him come through and leave again, but that was not the case. In fact, throughout the course of my movie, I was interrupted three times by irritating phone calls that should have aroused my suspicion that all was not well. I actually had heard from a policeman looking for my mother, my daddy's only brother from out of town about an emergency phone call he had missed and a close friend of my folks who was concerned about something that had been announced on the evening news that night. It was only after my movie finally ended that I sat back and started pondering all the strange calls.

It was about this time that I decided to call my parents only to discover that my mother had been in the driveway for about an hour trying to get herself together enough to come in and tell us that our father had been struck by a drunk driver on his way home from work that evening and had died at the scene. Our world turned upside down in an instant. One scary monster had just shown up at our front door. My life would never be the same and innocence was lost that night with my first real experience of the facts of life and death. Forty years later, I see both the good and the bad that came from that painful night, but at the time it was just scary.

No, I don't like Halloween. I will share more on the aftermath of my daddy's death later. I think I will go to bed now...after some prayer time with my favorite saints, including St. Ed - my daddy.

I Watched Them Dance

It has been a week since I returned from my last visit to our Baby Clara and her Mommy and Daddy. Time passes but certain images just have not faded from my experience in the hospital in 1 North - the Hemetology/Oncology ward of Lucile Packard Children's Hospital. I don't imagine they will ever leave me...

...I watched them dance. MY daughter, holding HER daughter, swirling and tilting and backing and tipping in a syncopated rhythm that confused the pain Clara was feeling. Sweet sick little baby, comforted and distracted from the pain that was keeping her from sleep, Clara relaxed as her mommy hummed or sang quietly in that beautiful voice God gave her the very lullabies I had sung to her at bedtime - so long ago that I wouldn't think she remembered - and danced her into peaceful sleep...for a little awhile.

...the beeping and whirring of continuous feeds and IV machines! 10 minute warning beeps that the machine would be beeping again when the medication was complete. Beeps to warn of beeps. Maddening! This is her world of sounds. Endless beeps, door creaks just as she falls asleep, hushed nurses' voices (or not so hushed) offering helpful (or not so helpful) words that keep you and her from sleeping, babies and toddlers crying out on either side of her room, "Mommy, don't go!" or "Go away! Go away! You're hurting me!" Somehow the sweet melodies from Bach or Brahms on the mobile just didn't cut through the strangeness of the other sounds in this baby's world.

...my daughter feeding her child through a tube. Counting out ml of breast milk or formula or medications in a syringe that she inserted carefully through an NG tube to keep her baby growing. Counting every thousandth of a kilogram she gained as a victory.

...crying as I watched her pleading with doctors on rounds to hold onto even the smallest of mother/daughter privileges, like breastfeeding her baby. Wanting so hard to have just a little of the normalcy of a baby's life in the midst of the bizarre and nightmarish reality of their own.

...the interaction of my daughter and nurses who have become friends, confidantes, sweet relief, and sometimes great annoyances (those were rare). Watching her jump up and hug a passing favorite nurse, squeezing in a quick update on the floor's favorite baby. Good nurses are angels on earth.

...discarding every toy/blanket/pacifier that dropped on the floor. Caution. Caution. Caution.

...the smell of antiseptic hand gel. I actually missed the dispensers immediately upon leaving the hospital, looking for them at every turn at the airport, my hands feeling so dirty after days of pumping gel into them every time I walked through a door of the hospital.

...mostly I will remember, forever, the look of total exhaustion on an anemic child's face blended seamlessly with total joy at the sight of her daddy or mommy when they spoke to her. The obvious toughness and strength of will in one so young, to endure what she has been handed and bloom where she is planted. She is a bright purple blossom, blooming sweet aroma and taking the breath away from all who pass her way. She is her Mimi's favorite flower. I love her. I always will.

...

Falling into...

A fire pit in the back yard

Encircled by five chairs

Five teenagers laughing

Faces lit with firelight

Sticky fingers and lips

Chocolate and marshmallow breath

Warm against the cool air

Savory pork roast with

Perfect rice and gravy

Glass of Cabernet

Toasting end of summer

"Here's to Fall!"

(Yeah, this was a VERY nice evening!)

Seasonal Changes

I mowed the lawn today. It is amazing the inspirations that come to me while I am mowing or pulling weeds. I take after my mother in that regard. I do some of my best praying with my hands in the dirt. When I tell someone that yard work and painting are therapeutic for me, they look at me like the fertilizer or paint fumes have affected my brain. Actually, I think it is not the activity, but where my mind goes during those exercises that is therapy.

The interesting thing about my delight in mowing today is that I reveled in the spring-like response my yard is having to my care. We arrived in this little rent house in the extreme heat of early August. The previous tenants (males) did not do yardwork...my neighbors let me know that the first week. They were clearly feeling me out to see if we were "gardeners," hoping the eyesore across the street wouldn't continue to decline. It was evident. The grass was thinned to almost gone and everything was brown and dry and withering. You could hear the crunch with your eyes!

Remarkably, just turning the irrigation system back on, some heavy pruning and mowing, and six week later this yard is on its way back! So, just as Autumn has begun, my yard is experiencing the rebirth of Spring. Ironic.

Anyway, as I mowed through newly thickened bermuda grass in my backyard, I was thanking God that what looked like a doomed situation had taken a sudden turn to life and promise. Even about six shrubs in the backyard, the variety of which I am unfamiliar with, have broken out into color. I am delighted with the potential for a lovely yard next spring and even think we can enjoy it this fall from the deck after all. Thank you, God!

The irony of this situation is not lost on me at all. This past year has been one of steady and frightening decline for the Shannon household. At times it felt like gloom and doom for sure.

The "Great Recession" had hit our family squarely and we were forced out of a community and home we loved dearly just in order to survive economically. It required my dedicated and hard-working husband to pack his bags and move to another state to work while the children and I remained behind to try to sell our house. This was so hard on all of us, but I know it was darkest for him. Winter truly FELT like winter in 2010 - dark, cold and lonely.

Hardest on me was that it hit at the same time many of my adult children were trying to find their way in the world as well. I worried so much about their ability to find work and fretted about where they would live if they didn't, because we were headed West. It was so hard to find work in their fields in South Carolina. It was harder for some than others. Our sweet newlyweds, Lauren and Alex had to take low-paying jobs just to cover student debt and gasoline - living with parents the first year of marriage. NOT what they had envisioned at all! (To their credit, they held their heads high during it all.) Ultimately they stepped out in faith to head westward also, in hopes of more fertile employment territory. Thankfully, that was a good decision and bore fruit quickly with good jobs in a town (Austin) they really like. The fact that it is down the highway from us in Waco is even better.

Now, the hardest challenge of all! Just three weeks after we moved into our new house in Hewitt, Texas, we get the devastating news that our precious new grandbaby in California, Clara Violet Boyle, has leukemia. I didn't think our lives could get any worse, but they just did. I already felt so dried up from the past year's journey that I was not sure I had anything left to run on. How could I even help my daughter bear such an inconceivable cross? Could we possibly endure this?

Well, of course, we can. And we are. Our yard may be dry and crunchy right now, and I only see drought ahead of us, but just moisture from the heavens and some pruning and cutting of damaged leaves and branches can turn it around to lush and green again. I know Who to ask for the water and I have been pruned and weeded and cut so many times in my life that I actually know which branches to stick out for shaping automatically, if not, I know the Master Gardener will reach in and tend to them anyway. God cares about the Shannon Garden. He planted it. He rejoices in it - as I do my silly, sickly backyard. It will turn green and lush again. I am sure of it.

And I will try to be patient. These things don't happen overnight. But my yard proves that spring can come in autumn and I know that the sun does shine in winter. By next summer, I plan on watching my little Clara run through the thick, green and healthy grass in my back yard, chasing the three bunnies that live there. They will both be healthier. I am counting on it!

A For Real Interview

I had an interview for a job today. That in itself is a rare and strange experience for me. I think I have had exactly four job interviews in my life (after college). I discovered after my interview with Austin Independent School District in 1976 that I was already a given hire because the principal at the school where I'd been a student teacher had requested they hire me for a position. The interviewer "went through the motions" and then revealed that I had a position waiting for me. He actually gave me a really hard time about things I thought were totally bogus and afterward realized he was just "having fun" with me. Anyway, I got a job I LOVED!!! I left teaching six years later to take on the full time mom/homemaker career.

Fast forward TWENTY-EIGHT years later and I decide that at Fabulous Fifty I am ready for a little part-time job outside the home. A friend had called and said that the man in her office that they subleased space from was looking for a part-time assistant. Was I still looking for a part-time job? I walked in; he told me what the job would entail; I told him I could do that and it began a wonderful working relationship with a man I consider a great friend.

Needing some supplemental income during this past year of financial crisis, I followed my daughter Lauren's lead to the Charleston Area Convention and Visitor's Bureau for a job at the Mt. Pleasant Visitor's Center. I simply asked for an application; the lady gave me one and suggested I fill it out right there at her desk. While working on the application, the manager appeared at the desk, sat down and began interviewing me on the spot. I was hired before I had finished the application. Am I lucky or what?! That was a FUN job, but, oh, my aching feet. Sadly, both of those jobs, and the lovely colleagues I met with them, ended when our time in Charleston came to an end in June.

I recently learned from a long time friend that the Catholic Student Center at Baylor University (St. Peter's) was sorely in need of an administrative assistant (READ: House Mom/'Get this place in shape!" kind of person). When the Diocese of Austin posted the job opening, it read like a list of my skill set - word for word. I am perfect for this job. I am pondering if it is perfect for me. Anyway, the Diocese does things "professionally". HR would be coming to St. Peter's to conduct interviews. Hmmm...

So, it went very well. I am sure I wowed them with my wit and charm and totally out of style outfit. Seriously, I think it went very well despite my inexperience as an interviewee. I got the feeling 3 of the 4 interviewers felt just as out of place in their role.

So, I said in my last blog post that I would talk about Seasons today. I am such a liar. I actually had good intentions of doing just that, but today's experience is just too fresh in my mind to wax poetic. Like I said yesterday...Tomorrow.

A New Season

Today is September 21, 2010. It is the first day of Fall. We are entering a new season. It is not entirely new because we have all experienced Autumns before. ( I considered writing 'We have all had Falls before.' The irony of that statement is powerful for me. Maybe my second blog post will have to ponder that statement. Anyway...) I am sure that this one (Fall) will have as many new and unexpected experiences as it will old and familiar ones.

Every season has favorite elements and Fall happens to be one of my very favorite because of the things I can count on it to bring. I love the smell of leaves burning, the golden colors and the crunch of leaves underfoot. I love lighting warm-scented candles and cooler nights and sweaters and the sound of football on the TV (don't like to watch, just the sounds). I love baking in the kitchen again...cookies, pies and savory roasts. I love Thanksgiving with the family gathering, aromas from the kitchen and tantalizing foods. I love Advent with the lights and candles and carols and anticipation. It is so good to welcome a new season when the current one has become stale and unwelcome. Hello, Autumn. Great to see you.

I am experiencing some significant changes in my life and I feel another kind of "season" beginning. I think that along with other new adventures and surprises in this period, I would like to add 'blogging' to my list of I Have Dones. I am enjoying reading the blogs of my daughters and a couple of friends. I don't know that anyone will enjoy mine, but I feel pretty darn sure, I will enjoy writing it. It requires words. I love words. I love using words. Maybe if I use enough in my blog, I will reach my word quota for each day sooner and those who encounter me face to face each day will get a reprieve from my big mouth. If that is all it is good for, that is something.

There have been so many seasons repeated in my life after fifty-six fabulous years of age. I welcomed all of them with the same positive anticipation that I do this fall. Once they were fully arrived they proved very challenging, but - life IS challenging - always - but it is still good, no matter what.

I think I will start my blog with reflections on seasons. Tomorrow. This was just the Introduction, right?