Category: Spirituality/Inspiration

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Tell Me About Yesterday – or a Snippet of It

This month, I’m writing posts from prompts in the Writing Down the Bones Card Deck by Natalie Goldberg, shared with me by my friend Barb Edler of Iowa. Yesterday may be the most challenging topic on any given day lately. It all seems to blend together when every aspect of life is full tilt and you can’t even remember if you saw the light of day.

Yesterday

Death of a parent. Paperwork. Funeral planning. Cleaning out the house. Paperwork. Preparing for an estate sale. Sorting seven storage rooms. Life insurance. Paperwork. Executoring. Trusteeing. Video: grandson loses a tooth! Smile. Paperwork. School starting. Job description changing. Paperwork. TSH high. Synthroid increase. New prescription. Paperwork. Complicated spreadsheets. Meetings. Weight Gain. Paperwork. FaceTime: baby grandson sits up and accidentally says, “Nana” clear as day. Joy tears. Sleep. Wake. Strength for today. One day at a time. Sigh.

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Writing Down the Bones Card #2 of 60

This month, I’m working on finding the blessings after a month of sharing Dad’s journey through his final days. On the other side of grief, if there is a proverbial corner we turn, with joy that comes in the morning – – just like the Bible promises. One of the things that helps me find the joy is writing about the little miracles I see happening and the little smiles that come out of nowhere like urgings to notice a particular thing and think about what it means in the grand scheme of it all. I’m using Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones cards between now and the end of the year to try to write through all 60 of them, introduced to me by my friend Barb Edler of Iowa.

Today’s card, #2, piggybacks to yesterday’s card about What I’m Thinking Of……and flips the script to what I’m not thinking of.

Here goes…..

I’m not thinking of all the threats

out there when I see a wren on a wreath

against the swirl of window glass

that leads to the world

~ no, I’m not thinking of

the bigger picture

in such a tiny circle of light

through the translucent barrier

we call safety and shelter

in the comfort of our walls

when tiny birds are fighting

for all they’re worth

every day just to survive

still lifting their eyes

to the heavens and

singing joyful praise

in the midst of it all

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August Shadorma

I’ve taken a month to share the stories of Dad’s final days and the stories and wisdom he imparted. Today, I am stepping into the month of August with a deliberate departure from these somber daily reflections that have been a central part of my mornings in July. I’ll celebrate the small joys in nature and the blessings and focus on these for August before returning with the story of Kona, Dad’s dog, near the end of the month. Sharing the stories was a helpful way to begin the grieving process, but shifting the focus to a month of looking for the blessings is my intentional choice this month – even if it’s just getting through a tough day.

step outside

hear morning birdsong

reminders

that there are

still things worth celebrating

even through the tears

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You’ve Been Fighting A Long Time, Dad

In Dad’s final days, he shared stories, words of wisdom, and prayers with us that we will carry with us for the rest of our days. I’ve devoted the month of July specifically to sharing so many of these. There’ll be plenty more in the coming months, but not as a daily energy the way that July has been. I’ve needed this sustained time and focus for the grieving process to occur, and it has served its purpose in moving me through some emotions that needed exercise.

Sometime in August, I’ll attempt to find the strength of emotion to share the story of Dad’s dog, Kona, and her visit to the funeral home to visit Dad one last time – – so that she could understand the truth of what happened.

For now, I’m sharing the audio clip urging Dad to release and take the journey to his final destination. I’m also sharing the link to his obituary and slide show of photos. He was buried in his Georgia Bulldog cap that his friend Nick Doster gave him the night before he died, his doctoral robe, the Denny’s Save the Children necktie made by my son from my youngest daughter’s feet that won the national art contest, and a shirt belonging to Ken’s wife’s son.

https://www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/brunswick-ga/the-reverend-dr-haynes-12415041

Perhaps the greatest comfort we find is that Dad died with his arms stretched Heavenward, reaching for all those who love him, who have been waiting on the other side. We know they were there, reaching down to guide him and to greet him, after all his years of standing in the pulpit sharing with others the gospel and the promise of eternal life we know in salvation.

What a moment. What a life. What a promise!

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Saying Goodbye

In Dad’s final days, we recorded some audio clips that will keep him close to us and help us process this consuming grief we are feeling. My brother and I spent countless hours by his side as he reluctantly shifted his weight from this world to Heaven to be with our mother again, a lot like a kid being dropped off for summer camp who wants to go but keeps coming back for one more reassuring hug before being able to go pick a bunk. His words here are powerful reminders to do things while we still can.

There are lessons on this side in the moment of hearing Dad’s recorded words spoken, but there are the realities of this on the other side, once a person has left this world, in seeing so many things that did not get finished. We see it in the unfinished projects, the bookmarks, the tasks, the notes, and the paperwork. My brother stood in the shed last weekend and held up an ornate wooden spindle: for the stair rail we were going to refinish back in the 1980s, he explained. It struck me in a visual way when I walked in his kitchen and saw the Lazy Susan still on the counter, covered in shot glasses that were filled with his medicine doses. That’s how he organized his medicines for the week. I gave it a spin and watched it whirl, then slow, then stop.

Then, I discarded each pill and stacked the glasses in the box I was packing to be donated, wondering where each would land beyond its purpose here in the grand scheme of their own lives as medicine cups before I moved on to the next counter and the cabinet after that and the shelves after that.

How quickly a life shuts down and the physical space once occupied becomes a hollow cavity. A dumpster. A donation box. An estate sale. A few memorable pieces tucked into the folds of our own homes as reminders that what matters truly are the memories – – not the stuff.

no one leaves this world

feeling like they’re finished with

all that needs doing

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He’ll Haunt Them

In Dad’s final days, as he explained the speakers’ directives for his funeral, he told me it was my job to tell them that he would haunt them if they went over their allotted time. My brother explained why that might not be such a good idea.

even in heavy

moments we found some laughter

in the love of friends

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End Zone Ball

In Dad’s final days, he was full of metaphors about life experiences and advice. Here, he shares what to do when we fumble the ball, after referencing the iconic high school yearbook photograph of him in the end zone, midair, arms up, eyes focused, reaching for the football.

The Plays You Fumble

you can’t catch every

pass but it doesn’t matter

the next play matters

when you drop one, you

get another chance

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Not Enough Left

In Dad’s final days, he tells us stories. In this moment, he admits that he doesn’t have enough left. He realizes the end is very close. We assure him that we are not disappointed in him, that we are proud of him, and that we love him. While these are painful moments to relive, they help tremendously in the process of grief. I’m so grateful to have our voices of togetherness recorded so that they will always remain close and just a click away when I need them most.

Not Enough Left Nonet

no one was disappointed in Dad

when he didn’t have enough left

he’d been fighting a long time

and had lost too much strength

to go on living

we assured him

we loved him

and were

proud

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Dad’s Love for Our Mother

In Dad’s final days, he shared words about his love of our mother with us. We are grateful to have had parents who loved each other their whole lives. In this conversation and in the audio clips we share today, we find great peace. Dad knew where he was going, and he knew he would be with her when he arrived. We’re confident today that he is there and that they have been reunited. In our grief, this brings us the greatest joy!

she was the love of

his life ~ Miriam Jones Haynes ~

as he was of hers

Here, he explains how he rejoins her now.

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Springs of Elim

In Dad’s final days, we gathered audio clips to preserve his stories, prayers, and words of wisdom. In today’s clip, he shares about one of his favorite topics – The Springs of Elim – and how they worked in his own life.

fresh Springs of Elim

waters of restoration

reviving the soul