Top 5 Regrets of the dying and why I don’t have them

Granddaughter and friend dancing @  one of our music festivals

I  (DM) celebrated another birthday yesterday.  I still feel  like I’m 28…   I love getting older. (so far at least)  I’m still  physically fit (just ask my 30 yr old daughter Angie about that)   One of the reasons I love life as much as I do can be traced to the following article by Bronnie Ware.  

I don’t have any regrets. Honest.  

Have I messed up on occasion?  Oh yes, very much so. 

Am I perfect?  Not on your life.  Just ask my wife, she’s got lots of dirt on me. 

Have I been the perfect parent? Nope, done some very stupid things on occasion...very

But  I have learned the secret of not wallowing  when I do screw up. 

Nothing gained by self flagellation.

Dust yourself off, and get back in the game.

 Here’s that article.  Let me know what you think.

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“For many years I worked in palliative care. My patients were those who had gone home to die. Some incredibly special times were shared. I was with them for the last 3 to 12 weeks of their lives.

People grow a lot when they are faced with their own mortality. I learnt never to underestimate someone’s capacity for growth. Some changes were phenomenal. Each experienced a variety of emotions, as expected, denial, fear, anger, remorse, more denial and eventually acceptance. Every single patient found their peace before they departed though, every one of them.

When questioned about any regrets they had or anything they would do differently, common themes surfaced again and again. Here are the most common five:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

This was the most common regret of all. When people realise that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honored even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.

It is very important to try and honour at least some of your dreams along the way. From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realise, until they no longer have it.

(That is where having your own bucket list comes into play.  I have actively used one for years, even though I didn’t call it that in the beginning.  If you need any help w/ yours, let me know I’ve taught a workshop on how  to write your own bucket list several times/ gotten some great feedback on it. DM)  You can also read  a portion of my bucket list here.

2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.

This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship. Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.

By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.

(Here’s a blog post I wrote back in 07 that pertains to this regret/ working too much. DM)

3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.

We cannot control the reactions of others. However, although people may initially react when you change the way you are by speaking honestly, in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.

 

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

Often they would not truly realise the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.

It is common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. But when you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details of life fall away. People do want to get their financial affairs in order if possible. But it is not money or status that holds the true importance for them. They want to get things in order more for the benefit of those they love. Usually though, they are too ill and weary to ever manage this task. It is all comes down to love and relationships in the end. That is all that remains in the final weeks, love and relationships.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realise until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called ‘comfort’ of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content. When deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.

When you are on your deathbed, what others think of you is a long way from your mind. How wonderful to be able to let go and smile again, long before you are dying.

Life is a choice. It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly. Choose happiness.”

This post was originally published on Inspiration and Chai.

Bronnie Ware is a writer and songwriter from Australia who spent several years caring for dying people in their homes. She has recently released a full-length book titled ‘The Top Five Regrets of the Dying – A Life Transformed by the Dearly Departing’. It is a memoir of her own life and how it was transformed through the regrets of the dying people she cared for. For more information, please visit Bronnie’s official website at www.bronnieware.com or her blog at www.inspirationandchai.com.

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Early history of our farm

Cecilia  in our driveway   1921

Wife  in our driveway last night  2011

 Monday afternoon  Kathy (our  neighbor) dropped off some pictures .  

She said they were old photo’s taken on our property  from  many moons ago.

I can tell you exactly where most of them were taken.

There was a young girl in several of them.  Her name was Cecilia.  

 She was the former owner of our property and lived here, as far as we  know  her whole life.   Her dad built the house we’re living in as well as the 100 yr old red barn we host music festivals in.

 She  passed away in 1994.

Cecilia sitting on our front steps

 

 

 

Giving the  dog a bath

Holding a chicken

Cecilia is buried just about a mile from us  in one of those small  pioneer cemeteries.  

Last night as  I was trying to calculate the date of these pictures, I suggested we jump  in the car and head over to the cemetery. 

 Cecilia was buried next to her brother Henry.

 

Cecilia, her brothers Fred,  Henry, and her mom  1911. 

 Henry is the little guy in front.

Fred and Henry standing on an old Steam engine.   

(One of those old metal tires is still in the barn)

Cecilia and Henry …late 1950′s

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 What do you see when you look at these pictures? 

I see a young girl who loves animals….and her little brother Henry

They lived  in a house that didn’t  have electricity. (see first picture)

Their  mother had a hard life.  You can see it on her face.  

 (see picture of older woman with three kids)

We were told she lost  first husband to a farming accident in the late 1800′s. 

 Eventually she  married the hired man (Cecilia’s and Henry’s  dad)

 Cecilia’s  mother   had 6  daughters by her first husband,  lost two of them  to the flu epidemic in 1918. 

I can’t begin to imagine…

A verse of scripture kept  coming to mind as I looked at these pictures

“Teach us to number our days, that we may get a heart of wisdom”

Listening to the radio this morning as I headed into town I caught the words on a current pop hit by Katy Perry… she sang about  living forever and shacking up for the night.  I thought to myself, what a bunch of lies.  Packaged in a beautiful song. 

The truth is (and there is such a thing as absolute truth)

 We don’t live forever, my days are numbered  and the choices I make do have a way of coming home to roost.

 (both good and bad) 

Put that to music Katie Perry  and keep on  rock’n.  DM

Goodbye Oscar

Oscar 

 

If it should be that I grow frail and weak
And pain should keep me from my sleep
Then you must do what must be done
For this, the last battle, can’t be won.
You will be sad- I understand
Don’t let your grief then stay your hand
For this day, more than all the rest
Your love and friendship stand the test.
We’ve had so many happy years
What is to come can hold no fears
You’d not want me to suffer, so
When the time comes, please let me go.
I know in time you too will see
It is a kindness you do to me
Although my tail, it’s last has waved
From pain and suffering I’ve been saved.
Don’t grieve that it should be you
Who has decided this thing to do
We’ve been so close, we two these years
Don’t let your heart hold any tears.
Author Unknown

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  We got  Oscar when he was just a year.  Smallest of 3  farm dogs, we were told he was always getting picked on by the other two.   Gangwishes were  moving to Nebraska, and  asked if  we would  take their daughter  beagle.

  That was 14 years ago. 

   I”m sure I’ve probably had 15 to 20  pets  by this point in my life, but for some reason Oscar  found a special place in my heart.

Last July he looked like he was going to die.  On a long shot, the vet gave him some steroids, and he pulled out of whatever it was that was ailing him.

Two weeks ago I was home working in the barn when my phone rang-  It was my wife.

“Oscar just collapsed again on the floor…I heard him yelping  then a big thump ….”

The day before the same thing had happened, I had taken  him in to the Vet, thinking it was going to be a one way trip to town.  The vet had left the decision up to me.  There was no way we were in a position financially to spend hundreds of dollars trying to diagnosis his problem…it could be one of several things, so   we decided to give Oscar  some steroids one more time…they weren’t going to cure him of anything,  he said, but might help with the pain.

       But now twenty-four hours later, he had collapsed again..so I knew it was finally time to say good-by.  I called the clinic, let them know what we were thinking. they said to bring him in.  I gently loaded Oscar up into the little pet pillow he’d been sleeping on this Winter.   He was quiet on the trip to town.    I put my hand on him to comfort him.  He never did like riding in the truck.   When we got to the clinic, the Vet motioned me back to one of the examination rooms. He asked if I wanted to stay or go.  I told him I would stay.  He gave Oscar a sedative, which really relaxed him.  A minute later, he gave him the shot that put him to sleep.  He was gone within 10 minutes of us walking through the doors of the clinic.

I discovered a group of people this week that I never knew existed….

Fellow pet lovers who are still grieving.

They don’t broadcast this to the world.  

 I suspect it is because  they are  tired of hearing things like “It’s only an animal.”    

Why do certain pets become especially dear and others  are “just pets?” 

Here’s another pet I had to say goodbye to last year about this time:

Winston the Pig  March 2010

She was a 650 pound regular pig…nothing fancy, just a pig.  

She loved to have her belly rubbed, eat apples and free range behind the barn in a little pasture.  We  took this picture  shortly before I had to send her down the road.

After Cancer Everyday Miracles by Dana Jennings

taken from the

 

Sunday, May 23, 2010

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April 6, 2010, 11:01 am

        It has been two years since I learned that I had prostate cancer, and a bit more than a year since I had any treatment for what I eventually learned was an aggressive Stage 3 cancer.

      Being from the sticks of New Hampshire, I’m reminded of a woods that has burned. There is still plenty of scorched earth and charred deadfalls, but, more important, the green scrub and optimistic wildflowers of normality are creeping back. Dana JenningsI’m in pretty good shape these days. I live from PSA test to PSA test – every three months – and so far, so good. I still get more tired than I would like because my body chemistry is still in ferment from hormone therapy. And, to get an erection, I have to inject my penis with Cavereject, which stimulates blood flow. (It’s not as bad as it sounds. Honest.) 

       But those are just physical details. I’m more interested in what I’ve learned from my cancer, how it has actually – and unexpectedly — changed me. Cancer is a hard teacher, but a teacher even so. More than ever, I know that I am blessed in sons and my marriage. That on a cold winter’s night a pint of porter in the company of a good neighbor is a bounty in this uncertain world. Yes, cancer is about an unwanted mutiny in the body. But, too, it’s about love and transience.

      Postcancer, I love who and what I love more deeply than ever. And I keenly feel in my bones the sheer evanescence of our existence. I’ve also undergone changes that are more obvious. The anger that raged within me after my diagnosis has mellowed to a simmer — I don’t bellow at speeding cars anymore. I do admit, though, that my tolerance for jerks and trivia has vanished as time’s arrow pricks at my back. I’ve become more myself these past two years, having shed the need to impress anyone.

       Cancer cells also knock the ego down a peg or two. I’m even more obsessive about my, well, obsessions. I binge-read, gorging on books and tearing through genres like some kind of literary wolf: fantasy (Tolkien, Rowling, George R.R. Martin), crime (Leonard, Burke, Stephen Hunter) and poetry (Li Po, Tu Fu, Basho).

        And when I realized recently that the last baseball season that truly floored me was in 1975, when the Boston Red Sox and the Cincinnati Reds played their epic World Series, I galloped to the stacks to gobble up books about the primal days of the major leagues and the Negro leagues. (Yep, Ted Williams still hit .406 in 1941.) That reading, in turn, led me to Ebbets Field Flannels, and the wool replica of Satchel Paige’s 1942 Kansas City Monarchs home jersey that hangs in my closet.

      Like ol’ Satchel, I don’t look back, because I don’t want to see what might be gaining on me.

       Most important, I think, I continue to consciously slow down as our maniacal culture speeds up. I’m constantly on the lookout for those miracles in a minor key that present themselves to us each day.

         I crave a certain fierceness of perception, am more open to the fullness of life seized in one small moment or gesture:

       Bats carving inky compulsories in the purple-black dusk.

      Fern, the sweet apricot cockapoo up the street, who likes to plant her petite butt on my foot.

        The topographical hieroglyphics of moss and lichen thriving on rock and stone.

      The eternal summer conjured by Dick Dale’s feral surf guitar.

       The dank musk of rain on the wind.

       The down-home holiness of bluegrass gospel sung by Bill Monroe and the Stanley Brothers.

        A wicked curveball just nicking the outside corner of the plate.

       The puppy breath of our two new golden retrievers, smelling like wet and bitter grass.

        The daredevil gray squirrels that tap-dance along the back fence.

         April snow, which my country-boy father calls the poor man’s fertilizer.

         So … what are your miracles in a minor key?

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My friend Lisa from New York shared this with us on Facebook this morning-  thank you Lisa!

So You Want to be Famous

      I will give the first person who recognizes this man $10.00  cold hard cash.    This is not a gimmick.  If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time you know I’ll do it.

     Ever since I came across his picture this past Sunday my mind has been pondering  the human  tendency to want to be noticed, and be recognized .

     We may not do this consciously but deep down,  I don’t think I”m the only one who wants to  leave my mark.

   The more I’ve thought about this the more stupid the whole thing becomes. 

      How many of you know much about your great-great grandfather on your  mothers side?  Could you even tell me his name?  What kind of person was he like?  Where did he live?  What were his interests?  Was he happily married?  Was he a good man?  Unless, you’re one of the few people who are interested in geneology, I’m willing to bet you can’t answer  those questions.

    In another 100 years- how many people  are going to remember who you were?  And even if someone does come across your name, how much time do you think they’re going to spend pondering your life?- Not very much.

      Let’s look at this another way-  Couple of times a year, my wife and I will stroll through our local cemetary  we live in a town of about 3600 population. The tombstones that you can read with any clarity go back to the mid/ late 1800′s.  Many of the early city fathers are buried there-  Fallwell, George, Carpenter-  these were the guys with the money to have large family monuments errected.  I’ve lived here most of my life, and I could tell you very little about any of them- and have no intention of digging any deeper into any of their lives…and the last time I checked, there was no big push to do anything more to enshrine their memory either.  Give it another 100 or 200 years  if the Good Lord doesn’t come back before then and there’s a good chance you’ll no longer be able to even read their grave stones.

    So why do we want to be noticed, acknowledged, and remembered in this life?  Who is really going to think much about us other than our immediate family-  and once that generation is gone,  then the odds are pretty good that Nobody is going to think about you ever again-  nobody.

    Even the people today who  are  ”famous”- In another 100 yrs and nobody will remember most of  them either.

      It’s a big smoke and mirrors game- that is, if your goal is to leave a mark this side of eternity-  Now, if you want to talk about leaving a mark on the other side of eternity- that’s a whole different story.  I believe it is possible to  do things in this life that will follow me  into eternity- and I’m not talking about being surrounded by 70 virgins-    But that’s a bunny trail for another day…..

     So as I’ve pondered the life of the man whose picture I started this post  with,  he’s been teaching me a life truth by his very obscurity.  Don’t waste my time trying to be noticed, or famous – it’s an illusion.

     The more this truth trickles down into the soil of my soul the more profoundly it strikes me.

When You Loose a Child…

     Note to reader:  

        In 2003 I began the practice of using a  3 ring binder  to save the highlights of that year-photos, good articles, personal correspondence, etc.   I was thumbing through my 2004 journal this past Sunday night and came across   the following  piece by Carole J Dyck R.N .   She writes to parents who are dealing with the loss of a child, although I think what she  says could  apply to other times of grief as well.    Wanted to pass it on as a future resource.  DM

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       The use of the word “closure” is often heard in public circles or in the media especially after a tragedy and implies finality.  The word comes with the sense that there will be a time, day, or event like a funeral that marks when a grieving person will be “healed” or “over it”, as though it were a disease and you could magically take a pill to be cured.  There is an expectation that when the eulogies are said and the casseroles are gone, the grief somehow magically goes away.  The truth is that…the death of a loved one changes our lives forever, and we will never truly “be over it.”  Yes, we will not have the intensity of the pain and sorrow we had at the beginning of our grief.  We will go on with life and find new normal for us, but live will never be as it was before the death, and we will never be fully “healed.”  Sometimes those around us have attempted to comfort us by pointing to deadlines, replacements, or “at leasts.”  We have heard it said,”At least you have other kids,” or “You can have another baby,” or “hasn’t it been 6 months?”  Many see “comfort giving” as a short-term support effort, and soon we will be “over it” as we are kept busy returning to the tasks of daily living and focusing on our blessings.  These comments hurt rather than provide the comfort they are meant to provide.  Grief follows no plan, stages, timetable formula, or schedule.  There are no road maps; there are no absolutes.

      We learn….that everyone grieves differently.  Grief is like being lost.  The familiar things we relied on to live each day are gone.  We must find new anchors or stabilisers along the way and learn a new way of relating to the world and people around us….Grief is all consuming, distorts reality, and we begin to mark our time in “before or after our loved one died.”  No one can hurry the process of grief, no one can do it for us.  Not even our spouses, parents or other children can help us in those early days.  The truth is that when our grief is new, we feel exhausted physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  We barely have enough energy to breath.  We feel as though we have no control over our lives anymore, nor do we care.  We realise on some level we are helpless.

      All of these feelings are normal and part of the grieving process.  And yes, we also need to realise that it is a process- a very long gradual and difficult process.  Time does not heal all wounds, but time softens the intensity of the grief.  What helps is finding those who will listen with their hearts and give us hope and understanding.  Those who will spend hours, days and months with us as we tell our story over and over so we can somehow believe it ourselves.  What helps is to surround ourselves with those patient people and meaningful activities that comfort and support.

      Gradually, the cold darkness of grief beings to give way to the warmth of the memories, acceptance, purpose and reinvestment in life.  We learn to speak of our loved one without crying and begin to accept that whatever time we had with him or her, we would have taken even if just but a moment.  We learn that grief is the price we pay for loving our child or sibling so much, and we wouldn’t want it any other way.  Our relationships with family, friends and yes, even God can be strengthened or challenged as we look for new ways to connect with them.  We may lose old friends who really don’t understand.  We learn that problems life are not overwhelming.  We are handling the worst thing that can happen to us, what else can happen?  We learn to more deeply cherish those we love.  We help others in grief without batting an eye.  Sometimes we pickup “gifts” along the way by becoming more caring, compassionate toward others, and appreciative for what is important in life.  New strengths can develop as we find our new selves along the way.  Life will be different as we learn to cope, but still have meaning.

     For those of you who are new in your loss, we hope that you will continue to share your sorrow with us and learn from those further ahead on the path of grief.  Someday it won’t hurt as much as it does now, and you won’t always feel “this elephant on your chest.”  We encourage you to ask the family and friends around you for what you need and tell them when their expectations for you are too high.  We hope you will explain to them that your grief is not on a timetable and will probably not ever reach what society calls “closure.”  Explain to them that you will always miss your loved one, but you will learn to live with a broken heart.  We hope you will inform them that the mention of your loved ones name is music to your ears and it’s okay to talk about him or her.

                   Written by Carole J Dyck R.N.

      Thoughts, comments, questions?

Writing Your Own “Bucket List”

      At the end of your life, as you’re laying on your death bed, I’m guessing you’re not going to say to yourself…”Boy, I wish I would have put in more hours at my job”

     I’ve signed up to teach a 4 week course at our local community college I’m calling Creating Your own Personal “Bucket List”   a spin off of the movie by the same name.   Do you know what’s funny- before the movie came out, I had  been working off of a personal bucket list for at least 10 years- didn’t call it that, but that’s what it was…so when I saw the movie, I thought to myself…hey/ those guys stole my  idea. 

     Here’s the course description:

     Treat yourself to four weeks of fun, laughter, and personal reflection.  The Bucket List is a list of things you might want to do before you “Kick the bucket.”  Local Author and teacher DM will act as a facilitator using various activities to help you begin your own bucket list.  Class size limited.  Begins Feb.3 4 weeks  6:00 PM- 7:30 PM     $35.00

 

     Here are some tidbits from my class notes  since chances are, you won’t be able to make it:

    As the facilitator of this class, I will have succeeded  if : 

A.  By the end of the week 4   you to have a list  of at least 10 items on it.

    We will discuss :

     What is leisure?

     What does “relaxing” look like to you?

     What’s the difference between  leisure, relaxing  and hedonism?

I have 4 or 5 handouts,  3 guest  speakers in  mind (besides myself) , an excellent book  to recommend and a movie to watch. 

 In the early 1980’s I read a book by Tim Hansel called  When I Relax I Feel Guilty.    It had more of an impact on my life than I realized at the time….here are two excerpts from the book:

     “ If I had my life to live over again, I’d try to make more mistakes next time: I would relax, I would limber up, I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I know of very few things I would take seriously. I would take more trips, I would be crazier… I would eat more ice cream and less beans; I would have more actual troubles and fewer imaginary ones. You see I’m one of those people who lives life prophylactically and sensibly hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I’ve had my moments, and if I had to do it over again, I’d have more of them…”

     “Do something unusual. Be an experimenter. Meet new people, try new experiences. Let people think you’re loony. Wear a funny hat or put your shirt on backwards for a day…’ Hug a tree, fly a kite, wear a button, jog in triangles. Go for a long walk in your bare feet. Poke some holes in your rigidity. This is not a time to be timid. Take a chance, it’s worth it.”

    Thoughs, questions, comments?

Good Grief, That was 13 years ago

     

 

          I came across  the  picture Sunday night.  Facebook mentioned one of my friends had been tagged in a photo.

          Some of you talk about “triggers,” well, this photo  triggered something.  It  triggered  a heaviness  that was  almost palatable.

      Today at work,  that photo  and the accompanying  heaviness  came back to my mind several times.

     I didn’t understand.     I didn’t even know 1/2 of the people in the photo,  the ones I did  were  smiling.

       and then it hit me….

     I was  grieving

       Grief.  

      The picture triggered a wave of  grief that is 13 years old.   

     I didn’t think grief was supposed to last   that long.

           A good friend of mine is  still grieving the loss of a child, 4 years later.   He recently compared his   grief to  waves on the ocean.  
     Initially the waves  were strong, one after another… Four years later, they’re  further apart.

   

      Have you experienced grief in your life?  As I’ve alluded to, grief can come into our lives for lots of different reasons.

     If  you have experienced grief  and feel comfortable, would you tell me about it?  I suspect this post will generate a lot of hits long term.   What sort of comfort, insight, hope, wisdom would you give the person who stumbles across this later.  Please don’t give any pat  answers on this one.  I’m not interested in  theory.  Speak only of what you’ve experienced first hand.  Thank you in advance. DM

When (Not If) We Suffer

      “The moment we find ourselves in trouble of any kind – sick in the hospital, bereaved by a friend’s death, dismissed from a job or relationship, depressed or bewildered – people start showing up telling us exactly what is wrong with us and what we must do to get better.  Sufferers attract fixers the way road kills attract vultures.  At first we are impressed that they bother with us  and amazed at their facility with answers.  They know so much!  How did they get to be such experts in living……..?”

      “In our compassion, we don’t like to see people suffer.  And so our instincts are aimed at preventing and alleviating suffering.  No doubt that is a good impulse.  But if we really want to reach out to others who are suffering, we should be careful not to be like Job’s friends, not to do our “helping” with the presumption that we can fix things, get of them or make them “better”  We may look at our suffering friends and imagine how they could have better marriages, better- behaved children, better mental and emotional health.  But when we rush in to fix suffering, we need to keep in mind several things….

       First, no matter how insightful we may be, we don’t really understand the full nature of our friends problems.  Second, our friends may not want our advice.  Third, the ironic fact of the matter is that more often than not, people do not suffer less when they are committed to following God, but more.  When these people go through suffering, their lives are often transformed, deepened, marked with beauty and holiness, in remarkable ways that could never have been anticipated before the suffering.”

     So, instead of continuing to focus on preventing suffering – which we simply won’t be very successful at anyway- perhaps we should begin  entering the suffering, participating insofar as we are able…”

     …”In other words, we need to quit feeling sorry for people who suffer and instead look up to them, learning from them, and if they will let us – join them in protest and prayer.  Pity can be nearsighted and condescending, shared suffering can be dignifying and life – changing.”

  Eugene Peterson -  Excerpts from his introduction to the book of Job

                                                     From The Message

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      I have a friend whose wife is  battling with reoccurring cancer.  He has been disabled for years, as a result of a back injury he sustained in a maximum security prison riot  ( He was a guard) 

      He and I talk weekly, get together  once a month.  I always feel  inadequate when we’re together. I made up my mind never  to comfort him with simplistic answers.  I do a lot of listening,  tease him, and take him to work occasionally.      Reading  the  introduction to Job this week  made me realize I  have been doing a better job of encouragement  than I realized.  (He says I do but you got to  wonder.)

      This morning in our house church we were talking about comforting someone in hard times.  One person shared from their first hand experience  the most effective thing  done for them was just to listen .

      On  a personal note.  If ever you and I cross paths and I have the privilege to be with you in a funeral home at the loss of someone close to you, here’s what I will and will not do…my wife and I will probably give you a hug (if you’re a hugger)…I will probably just look you in the eyes…let you talk…I will NOT say something like  ”Oh well, at least they are in a better place, bla bla bla… and if I’m the one in the receiving line @ the funeral home…I want to give you the heads up now..do not say that sort of stuff to me or I’m liable to take your head off.   ;-)  Got it?  Good.

   If you’ve experiences suffering, does any of this resonate with you?  If so, tell me about it.

     

The Rhythm Of My Life

     “A guy can work 12 to 16 hours a day, 7 days a week farming and never get caught up….and it will drive you crazy”

                                         Comment by a young farmer I recently worked for

     “Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.  Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain.  It is vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; (translation: burning the candle at both ends of your life) for he gives to his beloved sleep. (or even in their sleep)”

                                                                          From  Psalm 127

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      Reading the May 3/10 2008 issue of World tonight I came across a piece, profiling  on one of my favorite authors Eugene Peterson:

      “Peterson is the author of 35 books (all still in print) and translator of the bestselling The Message, the Bible in modern American English.”

     What does his life look like now… I won’t repeat the article, but would like to give you some snip-pits:

     “We like quiet, we like rhythm.”

     “Walking throughout the year, despite the weather, keeps him in touch with the seasons…”

     He’s an early riser….makes a pot of coffee…during the week they have

oatmeal.

     They eat lunch and take a nap!!!!!

    Then they read aloud….(to each other)

    Peterson says that living intentionally isn’t just for retired folks…

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     What was interesting to my wife and I as I read excerpts of the interview was how many parallels we saw between the Petersons and us.  It is just as if we’ve been  working out of the same play book.

          One of the  things that struck the farmer I referred to at the beginning of this post was my attitude about work. 

       I love my job, when we work, we get a lot done. (no brag- just fact) ;-)

      As this young man and I talked…I told him about our  music festival,  my 100 mile walk planned for this Fall, our Bed and Breakfast, etc.  he mentioned   he’d lost both his  brother and his dad within the past year or so, and you’re a fool if all you do is work.-  As he put it:

     “Sure you might make a lot of money…but so what…if you can’t enjoy it…”

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    Here’s some questions, I would love some interaction on:

       What are your thoughts  about taking  naps?

       Is it possible to find a “rhythm” even when you are in the midst of raising children? 

      What about when you’re battling  a major illness?

      Is it possible to step out of the rat race without being financially strapped?