Neonatal units are scary places

“Help me to journey beyond the familiar and into the unknown.
Give me the faith to leave old ways and break fresh ground with You.”

St. Brendan

Complications today on several fronts have left us all unsettled…all
but the Mayor naturally.

He will remain for several more days barring any further worries…
And a surgery down the road in about 6 months is in his future…
But we give thanks for the bountiful blessings we have received thus far…

As in after nearly 30 hours, I finally got to hold my first and only grandson…

The Mayor is just too busy to be bothered with worry.

This day is holy to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”
Nehemiah 8:10

scattered pieces

“As long as they talk about you, you’re not really dead,
as long as they speak your name, you continue.
A legend doesn’t die, just because the man dies.”

Rod Serling


(Dad’s basement stairs / Julie Cook / 2017)

Que the scary music….

Now hear the Psycho shower scene music playing in your head as you open the old wooden door…
standing atop the small landing, staring down the overtly steep and timely worn stairs…

Make certain you hold tightly to the wobbly grey handrails, lest you stumble…
tumbling down into the ancient bricks of the fireplace…
this before making the left turn down the final short flight of steps leading into
the bowels of the raw and dimly lit 65 year old cavern…
otherwise known as the basement of the house.

And so this is where I begin…

Generations that went before me…
antiques, junk, trash, chairs, tables, chests, albums, empty boxes, tools,
circa 1945 office furniture, cameras, train sets, clothes, books, glasses, lamps,
photographs….pieces to the lives of those long past and one recently past.

Lives, homes, treasures and trash…stored, saved, discarded, forgotten…
yet waiting….

The “Your Junk Guys” came today and carried away an ancient refrigerator, mattresses,
boxsprings, computer monitors, two ancient recliners–one being my grandmother’s…
she died in 1986…
plus the ripped out carpet, carpet pads, old light fixtures, bookshelves, paint buckets…
as much as they could squeeze into the two large trucks.

They will be back.

All as I once again find myself running to the bank,
straightening newly discovered messes,
waiting on the flooring guys,
still waiting on lawyers and the court….
balancing how to pay electricians, painters, roofers…
while navigating the roadways…

Picking up the pieces…
of one who preferred just to leave things scattered on the ground…
and in boxes, and in bags, and on shelves, and under sheets…
pieces to all that once was…
his,
hers,
ours,
theirs…

Conveniently out of sight,
but oddly never out of mind….

God, pick up the pieces.
Put me back together again.
You are my praise!

Jeremiah 17:14

It’s all good…

Even if I know I shall never change the masses, never transform anything permanent, all I ask is that the good things also have their place, their refuge.
Richard Wagner

God will bestow on you the good and eternal rewards which are laid up for those who keep His commandments.
St. Columba (Columcille)

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(an afternoon of refreshments, Adare Manor / Adare, County Limerick, Ireland / Julie Cook/ 2015)

There are those moments in life in which time seems to stand still…

In a good way…

The outside world is far removed as it is unconsciously, yet blissfully, forgotten…
Events and circumstances that, just a minute prior spun heavily around your head,
are now oddly light years away…
You feel yourself drifting lightly away to elsewhere…
Somewhere else that is much like that place between sleeping and waking…
that time and place where all is still, quiet, peaceful and good.

It is to a place where there are…
No worries
No pulling of this way and that
No demands
No places to be, no people to see, no fires to put out…
No looming deadlines, tests, procedures, appointments…
No screaming headlines of the bad, the sad, the scary…

For your bad, sad and scary are momentarily and mercifully put on hold.

It’s not that you pretend it’s not all there.
Not that you’ve turned a blind eye…
Not that you are foolishly disregarding the obvious and apparent…
It’s not that you have turned callous, empty or too consumed to notice…

Or…. maybe it is because you have been consumed, overwhelmed and nearly beaten down…
Because you have nearly reached your breaking point…
the point of the almost and alarmingly place of no return…

You have been spared for just the slightest and briefest of moments.
It’s as if your brain has been clicked off, and rather than churning out a litany of thoughts, frets, worries…you are still, quiet…and actually dare it be said, content.

It is a place and time of quiet reflection spent with or without company…
It is a place that is elsewhere, that is other…and for right now, all you know is that other…is good.

It is a taste, a small minuscule taste dancing across a tastebud, momentary yet distinctly detected…a taste of the very Divine…
A moment frozen in time when you have fallen into the arms of Love itself.
And yet you don’t even comprehend nor realize that’s what it actually is…
For it is so delicious, so intoxicating, so welcomed yet equally foreign and so very alien that you just can’t put your finger on what it is or from whence it came…

For all you know, with any sort of certainty, is that you’ve been granted what feels to be a momentary reprieve, a respite, a miracle of a mystical embrace….
all of which has you yearning for more….with the knowledge that you had been transported to a moment of the Holy and for that one tiny moment, everything is all good….

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A shot of yours truly in one of those happy good places, munching on a handful of dried cranberries, sitting on a giant rock, in the middle of quiet mountain stream, thankful that for a brief moment in time, life is indeed… all good.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
John 16:33