Even on my weakest days
I get a little bit stronger.
Sara Evans
Sadness
So We Don’t Forget
Like Thread Through a Needle
(First posted one year ago on December 16, 2012)
Even just the thought of what I am about to write makes my eyes well up. Last evening watching a performance of “The “Nutcracker” there was a point I was unexpectedly moved and that feeling has grown since.
Tulsa is blessed to have had a wonderful ballet and symphony and last night’s presentation filled me with the spirit of Christmas. Seeing the young children who played the parts of the mice and clowns especially warmed me with a sense of the season.
My feelings became deeply melancholy (here come the tears) at curtain call when the kids who played the mice were lined up in front due to their small size. For some reason I counted how many in the line and came up with twenty. Instantly I was hit with the realization that was the number of children who were killed in Connecticut two days ago at Sandy Hook Elementary School.
It is not within my grasp to imagine how painful it is to lose a young child and in the circumstances of a few days ago is unfathomable to my heart and mind. The sorrow has to be unspeakable and indescribable. For strangers I will never meet my heart is laden with grief for your pain. I can do nothing but pray for you and let you know here that I care; that millions care. In no way will it make it any easier to bear the anguish and woe, but maybe someday realizing an entire country cries with you will bring some comfort.
My Mom, she tells a lot of lies,
She never did before.
But from now until she dies,
She’ll tell a whole lot more.
Ask my Mom how she is
And because she can’t explain,
She will tell a little lie
Because she can’t describe the pain.
Ask my Mom how she is,
She’ll say “I’m alright.”
If that’s the truth, then tell me,
why does she cry each night?
Ask my Mom how she is,
She seems to cope so well.
She didn’t have a choice you see,
Nor the strength to yell.
Ask my Mom how she is,
“I’m fine, I’m well, I’m coping.”
For God’s sake Mom, just tell the truth,
Just say your heart is broken.
She’ll love me all her life,
I loved her all of mine.
But if you ask her how she is,
She’ll lie and say she’s fine.
I am Here in Heaven.
I cannot hug from here.
If she lies to you don’t listen,
Hug her and hold her near.
Taken from ” Ask My Mom How She Is” – Author Unknown
I am grateful to be touched and able to shoulder a tiny, tiny bit of the pain and grief of the mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers and families who will not see a child open presents on Christmas morning. I cry for you.
Your absence has gone through me
like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
W.S. Merwin
All That Really Matters
My “2013 Fall Farewell Tour” is finally over. Much of the last few months has been spent traveling for business before my retirement at year’s end. Whew! Being in and out of airports the better part of the last five weeks wore me to being almost numb. Time for rest, holidays and loved ones! However, there was an incident last week that bored straight through my fatigue.
The Chicago airport was crowded especially downstairs where the United commuter gates are. Sitting to my right a few seats away a man in his seventies was doing business. From what was spoken on several calls he apparently worked for a grocery supply company.
The last call the gentleman made started with “Hi this is ______ and I am calling to get the results of my tests from last week. Yes, sure I can hold.” He sat quietly and until he spoke I did not know someone else had picked up on the other end.
“Oh, that bad, huh. That’s not the news I had hoped for” was what I heard in a much more deadpan voice than the up-tempo salesman I had been listening to previously. In an even softer voice came, “Yes, I can come see the doctor next week. How soon does he want me to begin chemo again? I’m hoping I won’t have to start until after Christmas.” There was a pause as he listened followed by “I understand you’re just the nurse and can’t tell me. It’s just not the news I was hoping for.” Then came another pause before he said, “Wednesday at 2pm? Yes, I will be there. Thank you.”
He hung up the phone and just sat there staring down at the floor for what seemed like five minutes. As he raised his head up, he made eye contact with me and his moist eyes met mine. Without a single word, I smiled and he smiled a half-smile back. There was nothing else I could do for this perfect stranger who I imagine had just been told his cancer was back.
I won’t forget this experience. I will remember how good my life is and how blessed I am to have good health. My momentary airport friend will go through the weeks to come facing the specter of ill-health and the possibility of impending death. I hope for the very best for him and owe a debt of gratitude for being accidentally included in his life for a few minutes. I have so much to be thankful for!
You know,
all that really matters
is that the people you love
are happy and healthy.
Everything else is
just sprinkles on the sundae.
Paul Walker
What A Child Sees
No one is ever quite ready; everyone is always caught off guard. Parenthood chooses you. And you open your eyes, look at what you’ve got, say “Oh, my gosh,” and recognize that of all the balls there ever were, this is the one you should not drop. It’s not a question of choice. Marisa de los Santos
It was a long week and still fighting off the remnants of a cold, I knew once arriving home going anywhere wouldn’t happen. So an obligatory visit to the land of craziness, Wal-Mart World, was made after work. My fatigue caused me to walk back and forth unable to find things a good bit. By the time I got near the registers I was shuffling through exhaustion. Then came the wake up call.
A young couple with two children was over one lane and the late 20-something guy was griping at the woman telling her stupid she was. Everyone within twenty feet could hear him. Never will I forget the look on the woman’s face: one of absolute unhappiness and shame. She appeared hopelessness as if she had no choice except to endure her choice, the man she was with. Her head was bent downward which suggested she had known this treatment time and time again. The bruise beside her left eye made me think she likely faced worse later. Knowing that tugs strongly at my heart, but there is nothing I can do except tell about her here.
As bad as I felt for the young woman, I felt worse for the children. A boy around five and a girl around three stared straight at their parents taking in every thing that was being said. They were learning how a husband treats a wife and that a woman must accept what comes. How awful. I doubt if that relationship will ever improve. I hope the wife gets away from the her as#h*le husband some day.
So how does such a dark scene end up in a gratitude blog? Simple this: I am deeply thankful for parents who raise their children with respect and understand far more is taught by what a child sees than what they are told.
There is nothing more pathetically sad
than a parent who teaches a child not to hit
by spanking them. Well, that, and adults
who think hitting someone will solve a problem.
Anitra Lynn McLeod
Like Thread Through a Needle
Even just the thought of what I am about to write makes my eyes well up. Last evening watching a performance of “The “Nutcracker” there was a point I was unexpectedly moved and that feeling has grown since.
Tulsa is blessed to have had a wonderful ballet and symphony and last night’s presentation filled me with the spirit of Christmas. Seeing the young children who played the parts of the mice and clowns especially warmed me with a sense of the season.
My feelings became deeply melancholy (here come the tears) at curtain call when the kids who played the mice were lined up in front due to their small size. For some reason I counted how many in the line and came up with twenty. Instantly I was hit with the realization that was the number of children who were killed in Connecticut two days ago at Sandy Hook Elementary School.
It is not within my grasp to imagine how painful it is to lose a young child and in the circumstances of a few days ago is unfathomable to my heart and mind. The sorrow has to be unspeakable and indescribable. For strangers I will never meet my heart is laden with grief for your pain. I can do nothing but pray for you and let you know here that I care; that millions care. In no way will it make it any easier to bear the anguish and woe, but maybe someday realizing an entire country cries with you will bring some comfort.
My Mom, she tells a lot of lies,
She never did before.
But from now until she dies,
She’ll tell a whole lot more.
Ask my Mom how she is
And because she can’t explain,
She will tell a little lie
Because she can’t describe the pain.
Ask my Mom how she is,
She’ll say “I’m alright.”
If that’s the truth, then tell me,
why does she cry each night?
Ask my Mom how she is,
She seems to cope so well.
She didn’t have a choice you see,
Nor the strength to yell.
Ask my Mom how she is,
“I’m fine, I’m well, I’m coping.”
For God’s sake Mom, just tell the truth,
Just say your heart is broken.
She’ll love me all her life,
I loved her all of mine.
But if you ask her how she is,
She’ll lie and say she’s fine.
I am Here in Heaven.
I cannot hug from here.
If she lies to you don’t listen,
Hug her and hold her near.
Taken from ” Ask My Mom How She Is” – Author Unknown
I am grateful to be touched and able to shoulder a tiny, tiny bit of the pain and grief of the mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers and families who will not see a child open presents on Christmas morning. I cry for you.
Your absence has gone through me
like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.
W.S. Merwin
If You Are Able
Flags are flapping in an Oklahoma breeze out front of many houses in my neighborhood today. As I drove by a cemetery this morning small versions of the Stars and Stripes seemed to cover the landscape.
It’s Memorial Day when we remember and honor all soldiers and their service, especially those who lost their lives defending our country. As I sat here in front of my computer browsing, reading and being emotionally touched, I was moved to offer a sense of my reverence and gratitude here.
What hit me most was when I began to read about particular individuals. Many of those stories touched my heart. I picked one to share about a man who died in the war my generation fought: Vietnam.
“If You Are Able” by Captain/Major O’Donnell
(written before his death in battle).
Save for them a place
Inside of you,
And save one backward glance
When you are leaving,
For the places they can no longer go,
Be not ashamed to say
You loved them,
Though you may or
May not always have,
Take what they have left
And what they have taught you
With their dying
And keep it with your own,
And in that time
When men decide, and feel safe,
To call the war insane,
Take one moment to embrace
Those gentle heroes
You left behind.
Michael Davis O’Donnel Captain, Pilot, whose last known activity was March 24, 1970 was from Springfield, Illinois. He was promoted to Major once considered MIA. A reconnaissance team engaged an enemy force in Cambodia for three days and asked for extraction. Captain O’Donnel and his crew flew to the rescue. The pilot, ignoring his own safety, was attempting a rescue when his helicopter was hit by enemy fire then crashed and burned.
Had the drawing for draft numbers come up differently I could easily been one in the 70’s who served but did not come home to see family and friends again. Never will I think war is a good thing, but always I will greatly appreciate, respect and honor our warriors. With humble gratitude to Capt. O’Donnel and all who have severed (and the families who endure loss and all the grief of war) I say “thank you”: small words but expressed with deep conviction and gratitude.
We come,
not to mourn our dead soldiers,
but to praise them.
Francis A. Walker
I would appreciate it if you could help me honor our soldiers
by forwarding today’s blog to others. Thank you!
Rain Upon the Blinding Dust
Human beings are the only animals that cry ’emotional tears’. Other animals have their own distress-signals, but crying from stress, pain, sorrow or joy is unique to man. Why we cry and even the actual function of it is not clearly understood even today. The general belief is that adult human crying does two things: relieves tension or stress and is a social signal that communicates distress to others indicating the need for comfort and emotional support.
Western society expects women to cry and in some circles one who does not do so openly with some regularity is often thought of as being hard, jaded and to even have reduced femininity. Only today is it becoming OK for men to cry.
In a national survey done in Great Britain by The Social Issues Research Center it was found that 90% of women and 77% of men think it has become socially acceptable, over the past 20 years, for men to be seen crying. In one-on-one interviews with respondents the message was the same: the majority of both men and women felt that attitudes have changed – that the taboo on male tears is now generally regarded as outdated and ‘unhealthy’ and that men are allowed to be more emotionally open.
They survey found the majority of men (74%) were touched emotionally to cry most often by the death of someone close to them. However when questioned about this in detail it was found men most often shed those tears of grief in private, rather than at funerals. The other primary tear-triggers for men are sad moments in films or on TV (44%) and the breakup of a romance or relationship (39%). Music to a lesser degree was also found to be capable of moving a man to tears.
There is no evidence to suggest that men are somehow created to be “less emotional” than women and are more cold and unfeeling. Research indicates men experience just as much emotional feeling as women. Experiments measuring physical responses to emotion have shown men respond at least as much as women in most cases. Men are simply less emotionally expressive than women.
I am here to tell you as a man: crying can be cleansing and renewing. Having held back such intense feeling for much of my life, it was a surprise to learn in the last ten years the therapeutic value of tears. There has not been some emotional basket case syndrome come over me, nor is crying something I do every day or even every week. However, when I feel tears coming I don’t hold them back as I once did. Although I will admit sometimes where I am or who I am with still causes me to stifle them. The old conditioning of “big boys don’t cry” kicks in then knowing there are still many people who attach a stigma to a man who cries.
As silly as it may sound to some, I am very grateful to finally be able to let tears vent what I am feeling on the inside. This ‘big boy does cry’ and it has proven to be a healthful thing for me.
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears,
for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth,
overlying our hard hearts.
Charles Dickens
