We are marching in the light of God...
Every good endowment and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. James 1:17
It has been a time of gathering darkness, a time of light in the midst of the darkness of death. This shadow time has been illuminated by love...David and Dianne’s love for each other, the love of family and friends, and the Love that has held David all his days shining more brightly than ever in his sweet face.
Yesterday when the two men walked into his bedroom, ready to take him to Solace, he raised his hand in greeting and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you fellas.” Somewhere deep under the pain and confusion, the essential David, beloved of God, summoned the courtesy to recognize and welcome the strangers. His eyesight clouded, his vision is pure and strong as he leaves this world, his eyes on the prize of Love realized and present in the life to come.
Old timers used to talk about someone making a good death. I never quite understood that as a child. How could something as painful as death be good? The years have taught me that a good death is the result of a life well lived, a life with regrets and mistakes owned and made right, gifts celebrated and loved ones held close, a faith in the continued loving care of the Creator who brought us into being. David is dying a good death.
At my church we sing a gospel hymn “We Are Marching in the Light of God”. And so we all are... marching in the Light that knows no shadow due to change. We grieve the approaching loss of the one we hold so dear and celebrate his marching to Loving Light that awaits him, no shadows, no changes, just the perfect gift of Love. Amen.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Fine wine, roses and old corduroy...
Days of fine wine, roses and old corduroy...
The popular patron saint of love, Valentine, has always seemed somewhat lacking in charisma for me. Cupids with bows and arrows are cute but haven’t any substance. The t.v. show “The Bachelor” makes my skin crawl watching women and a man playact the art of love. I needed some new images and inspirations for love... real love between real men and real women.
Swan and Freddie Lou are one of the couples who make my Dean’s List of Love. They were a model for living life as a couple with passion and purpose. Strong personalities, different in many ways, they knew how to cut each other some slack and how to be each other’s cheerleader. Visiting them was always like a dose of spring tonic, rejuvenating and reviving. Fine wine...
My parents and Michael’s parents are on this list, also. Michael’s dad and mom had known each other since they were teenagers. When she developed dementia, H.O. nursed her, lived with her until he was no longer physically able to care for her. Every day, he visited her until she died. Mama and Daddy were an unlikely couple brought together by World War II. When she speaks of him, her blue eyes flash and twinkle as she remembers how handsome he was. Theirs was a passion that survives after death. Like the scent of old roses, pressed and dried in the family Bible, the fragrance of our parents’ enduring love is sweet and strong.
This is the time of year Michael and I met and we relive our whirlwind courtship every year, retelling our story, remembering the whys and wherefores of our love. Forty four years have passed with more than enough love, laughter, grief and good work. We have weathered our share of storms, reared three children who gave us pleasure as parents and are delightful adults, moved around and remodeled old houses before finding Sabbath Rest Farm. We made a life together. It was not always easy but it was always worth it. Old corduroy made soft through the years that has lost none of its strength...
Real love, true love, is a love that knows perfection is neither possible nor to be desired. And like fine wine, this love lifts us up, invigorates and energizes. When the first flush of new love fades, the memories, the scent still lingers to remind us of our beginnings. As the years pass, our love weathers times of trial and jubilee, boredom and hard work, and a new fabric is formed. This fabric, like old corduroy, is strong, velvety, comforting and beautiful with a nap that shows its wear. Love is the weaving of our lives together to form “a more perfect union”, a reflection of the One who first loved and still loves us. I’ll take this over cupids and valentines any day...
The popular patron saint of love, Valentine, has always seemed somewhat lacking in charisma for me. Cupids with bows and arrows are cute but haven’t any substance. The t.v. show “The Bachelor” makes my skin crawl watching women and a man playact the art of love. I needed some new images and inspirations for love... real love between real men and real women.
Swan and Freddie Lou are one of the couples who make my Dean’s List of Love. They were a model for living life as a couple with passion and purpose. Strong personalities, different in many ways, they knew how to cut each other some slack and how to be each other’s cheerleader. Visiting them was always like a dose of spring tonic, rejuvenating and reviving. Fine wine...
My parents and Michael’s parents are on this list, also. Michael’s dad and mom had known each other since they were teenagers. When she developed dementia, H.O. nursed her, lived with her until he was no longer physically able to care for her. Every day, he visited her until she died. Mama and Daddy were an unlikely couple brought together by World War II. When she speaks of him, her blue eyes flash and twinkle as she remembers how handsome he was. Theirs was a passion that survives after death. Like the scent of old roses, pressed and dried in the family Bible, the fragrance of our parents’ enduring love is sweet and strong.
This is the time of year Michael and I met and we relive our whirlwind courtship every year, retelling our story, remembering the whys and wherefores of our love. Forty four years have passed with more than enough love, laughter, grief and good work. We have weathered our share of storms, reared three children who gave us pleasure as parents and are delightful adults, moved around and remodeled old houses before finding Sabbath Rest Farm. We made a life together. It was not always easy but it was always worth it. Old corduroy made soft through the years that has lost none of its strength...
Real love, true love, is a love that knows perfection is neither possible nor to be desired. And like fine wine, this love lifts us up, invigorates and energizes. When the first flush of new love fades, the memories, the scent still lingers to remind us of our beginnings. As the years pass, our love weathers times of trial and jubilee, boredom and hard work, and a new fabric is formed. This fabric, like old corduroy, is strong, velvety, comforting and beautiful with a nap that shows its wear. Love is the weaving of our lives together to form “a more perfect union”, a reflection of the One who first loved and still loves us. I’ll take this over cupids and valentines any day...
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Lent...Grief and Gladness
And so I come to Lent with grief and gladness...
When Daddy knew he was dying, he sent us a starter herd of English Shorthorn cows. The remaining cows are old now, sweet tempered and slow moving. Fanny, Annie’s twin, is close to giving birth and is having problems...problems upon which I will not elucidate for the faint of heart. A farmer worth her salt would have sent these cows to market years ago but I have never claimed to be in it for the profit. These cows were my Daddy’s. He raised them, gentled them, and gave them as his last gift to us. Every time one of them dies, another little piece of Daddy dies. Grief...
Saturday morning I began calling around trying to find a large animal vet. They are hard to come by these days when most vets prefer the routine, lucrative,controlled world of small animal practice. I was referred to a traveling vet, a woman based in Flat Rock who only does large animals. Her office is staffed with two other vets who do the small animal practice while she travels to farms and stock yards. Reared in Tuxedo, this mountain girl graduated from Mars Hill with a double major in chemistry and math, a minor in biology. She took her vet training at N.C. State then came back home to establish her practice. I like her style. Talking to her was a joy.
Our friend David Bair is dying more quickly than any of us expected. He and Dianne leave for the Bair family reunion on Tuesday. It is the last one for him and he has been holding on to this hope...seeing everyone gathered together again. Twenty five years ago, David and his brothers began this tradition so their children, scattered across the country, could know one another. David is the last living brother and he needs to touch, hug, hold on to the family that gave him his place in this world. I weep for the loss in my life of this good man and for the grief Dianne is feeling and will feel when he is gone. I give thanks for our friendship which began years ago at First Congregational when he stood to announce the blood drive. It has been an honor to call this soft spoken white haired midwesterner a friend.
He and Dianne want to have his memorial service in the high barn, the party barn. So we will gather, have a service led by their pastor and Michael to remember and celebrate our friend. Afterwards, I told David we would have a German Irish wake with beer, brats and bawdy stories of his misspent youth. I have heard a few and they are priceless. He laughed. I laughed and cried.
Our two latest grandbabies, Clancy and Maddie, are thriving, tended by loving parents. Clancy is beginning to look just like his older brother Rowan with a quizzical quirk to his eyebrows. Maddie, the only girl in this plethora of boys, shines in headbands and tutus with her brothers wrapped around her little finger. Matthew, Mason, Mead, Aiden and Colby are healthy and full of little boy love of life. Joy, joy, joy...
And so abides faith, hope and love at Sabbath Rest Farm, but the greatest of these is love. Lent will be filled with grief and gladness this year but the unshakeable foundation, the rock of hope, is the Love that shines through the loving ones who are the faces of God for me. I am grateful and that is more than enough.
When Daddy knew he was dying, he sent us a starter herd of English Shorthorn cows. The remaining cows are old now, sweet tempered and slow moving. Fanny, Annie’s twin, is close to giving birth and is having problems...problems upon which I will not elucidate for the faint of heart. A farmer worth her salt would have sent these cows to market years ago but I have never claimed to be in it for the profit. These cows were my Daddy’s. He raised them, gentled them, and gave them as his last gift to us. Every time one of them dies, another little piece of Daddy dies. Grief...
Saturday morning I began calling around trying to find a large animal vet. They are hard to come by these days when most vets prefer the routine, lucrative,controlled world of small animal practice. I was referred to a traveling vet, a woman based in Flat Rock who only does large animals. Her office is staffed with two other vets who do the small animal practice while she travels to farms and stock yards. Reared in Tuxedo, this mountain girl graduated from Mars Hill with a double major in chemistry and math, a minor in biology. She took her vet training at N.C. State then came back home to establish her practice. I like her style. Talking to her was a joy.
Our friend David Bair is dying more quickly than any of us expected. He and Dianne leave for the Bair family reunion on Tuesday. It is the last one for him and he has been holding on to this hope...seeing everyone gathered together again. Twenty five years ago, David and his brothers began this tradition so their children, scattered across the country, could know one another. David is the last living brother and he needs to touch, hug, hold on to the family that gave him his place in this world. I weep for the loss in my life of this good man and for the grief Dianne is feeling and will feel when he is gone. I give thanks for our friendship which began years ago at First Congregational when he stood to announce the blood drive. It has been an honor to call this soft spoken white haired midwesterner a friend.
He and Dianne want to have his memorial service in the high barn, the party barn. So we will gather, have a service led by their pastor and Michael to remember and celebrate our friend. Afterwards, I told David we would have a German Irish wake with beer, brats and bawdy stories of his misspent youth. I have heard a few and they are priceless. He laughed. I laughed and cried.
Our two latest grandbabies, Clancy and Maddie, are thriving, tended by loving parents. Clancy is beginning to look just like his older brother Rowan with a quizzical quirk to his eyebrows. Maddie, the only girl in this plethora of boys, shines in headbands and tutus with her brothers wrapped around her little finger. Matthew, Mason, Mead, Aiden and Colby are healthy and full of little boy love of life. Joy, joy, joy...
And so abides faith, hope and love at Sabbath Rest Farm, but the greatest of these is love. Lent will be filled with grief and gladness this year but the unshakeable foundation, the rock of hope, is the Love that shines through the loving ones who are the faces of God for me. I am grateful and that is more than enough.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Theirs was and still is a love story...
Theirs was, and still is, a love match.
She has been my friend for so long that I cannot remember when we first met. I kept her children after school while she worked. We belonged to a women’s group that met for dinner once a month. And when she met James, we were given the great pleasure of seeing their love spring into being. Their children were grown and the scars from their first painful marriages were healed over. It was timing made in heaven.
James, whose wardrobe consisted of polyester, soon found himself wearing cotton and khakis. Cannan floated six inches off the ground lifted by his steady warming love. The sight of them together would make you smile and believe again in happy ever afters. Seasoned by the pain they each had endured, they rejoiced in one another and we celebrated with them.
Their wedding was perfect. Bridesmaids (none of them maids in a long time) wore dresses made specially for the occasion from a fresh floral chintz... curtain fabric. The rest of us were dressed in our best wedding finery and we all were beautiful, wrapped in joy and thanksgiving for James and Cannan. For twenty five years they have lived in loving amity, meeting each challenge with grace and good humor.
It was our great good fortune when they retired near us in Black Mountain. We resumed our custom of celebrating our shared wedding anniversary, July 12. Our friendship never missed a beat. Dinner dates, the theater, potluck meals, Derby parties, farm work... It was a lovely golden benediction, an affirmation of our friendship through the years. And then...
James began to struggle with what were thought to be small strokes. No treatment seemed to help. After a long, confusing time filled with tests and more tests, they discovered he had Alzheimer’s. It was a painful, scary time for them and for all those who loved them. A miracle was on the way, a miracle that did not heal the Alzheimer’s but transformed it into a teaching moment.
Cannan as a PollyAnna makes me look like a piker. She can find redemption in every sow’s ear that comes her way. It might be difficult but she keeps working with it until a silk purse emerges. She and James decided to share openly and honestly with everyone their journey through this next stage in their marriage. No pretense, no pretending, no shying away from the harsh realities... A path was chosen that focused on the gift of the present, the making of new memories and taking advantage of all the help that was available to them from doctors, Memory Care Clinic, Alzheimer support groups and other therapists. Once again, Cannan and James have given us a gift, a living example of loving through sickness and health, a love that grows to meet the need, a love that in its openness and transparency warms us all and we smile still when we see them.
I am sending a video James and Cannan did for the Memory Care Clinic here. James, a peacher and professor, and Cannan, a social worker, have taken this opportunity to share their story in the hope that it might be helpful. Keep the Kleenex handy. This love
story is for real.
To ensure delivery, add no-reply@vimeo.com to your address book.
Someone shared this with you: http://vimeo.com/58582155
Cannan & James' Story
http://vimeo.com/58582155
They asked us not to sugarcoat the realities so here it is, straight from our hearts and our experiences. Still want to watch it with you sometime. Thanks for being with us on this journey. Love, Cannan
About this video
"Cannan and James Hyde share their story of living with dementia. James, diagnosed with early stage Alzheimer's disease, and his wife, Cannan, tell how they are living with the challenges of the diagnosis and the unexpected turns it has presented in their lives."
Forward this email to your friends and family so that they can watch the video too.
She has been my friend for so long that I cannot remember when we first met. I kept her children after school while she worked. We belonged to a women’s group that met for dinner once a month. And when she met James, we were given the great pleasure of seeing their love spring into being. Their children were grown and the scars from their first painful marriages were healed over. It was timing made in heaven.
James, whose wardrobe consisted of polyester, soon found himself wearing cotton and khakis. Cannan floated six inches off the ground lifted by his steady warming love. The sight of them together would make you smile and believe again in happy ever afters. Seasoned by the pain they each had endured, they rejoiced in one another and we celebrated with them.
Their wedding was perfect. Bridesmaids (none of them maids in a long time) wore dresses made specially for the occasion from a fresh floral chintz... curtain fabric. The rest of us were dressed in our best wedding finery and we all were beautiful, wrapped in joy and thanksgiving for James and Cannan. For twenty five years they have lived in loving amity, meeting each challenge with grace and good humor.
It was our great good fortune when they retired near us in Black Mountain. We resumed our custom of celebrating our shared wedding anniversary, July 12. Our friendship never missed a beat. Dinner dates, the theater, potluck meals, Derby parties, farm work... It was a lovely golden benediction, an affirmation of our friendship through the years. And then...
James began to struggle with what were thought to be small strokes. No treatment seemed to help. After a long, confusing time filled with tests and more tests, they discovered he had Alzheimer’s. It was a painful, scary time for them and for all those who loved them. A miracle was on the way, a miracle that did not heal the Alzheimer’s but transformed it into a teaching moment.
Cannan as a PollyAnna makes me look like a piker. She can find redemption in every sow’s ear that comes her way. It might be difficult but she keeps working with it until a silk purse emerges. She and James decided to share openly and honestly with everyone their journey through this next stage in their marriage. No pretense, no pretending, no shying away from the harsh realities... A path was chosen that focused on the gift of the present, the making of new memories and taking advantage of all the help that was available to them from doctors, Memory Care Clinic, Alzheimer support groups and other therapists. Once again, Cannan and James have given us a gift, a living example of loving through sickness and health, a love that grows to meet the need, a love that in its openness and transparency warms us all and we smile still when we see them.
I am sending a video James and Cannan did for the Memory Care Clinic here. James, a peacher and professor, and Cannan, a social worker, have taken this opportunity to share their story in the hope that it might be helpful. Keep the Kleenex handy. This love
story is for real.
To ensure delivery, add no-reply@vimeo.com to your address book.
Someone shared this with you: http://vimeo.com/58582155
Cannan & James' Story
http://vimeo.com/58582155
They asked us not to sugarcoat the realities so here it is, straight from our hearts and our experiences. Still want to watch it with you sometime. Thanks for being with us on this journey. Love, Cannan
About this video
"Cannan and James Hyde share their story of living with dementia. James, diagnosed with early stage Alzheimer's disease, and his wife, Cannan, tell how they are living with the challenges of the diagnosis and the unexpected turns it has presented in their lives."
Forward this email to your friends and family so that they can watch the video too.
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