Thank you, God, for Connections and Prayer

 

So prayer is our sometimes real selves trying to communicate with the Real, with Truth, with the Light. It is us reaching out to be heard, hoping to be found by a light and warmth in the world, instead of darkness and cold. […] Light reveals us to ourselves, which is not always so great if you find yourself in a big disgusting mess, possibly of your own creation. Light warms, and in most cases it draws us to itself. And in this light, we can see beyond shadow and illusion to something beyond our modest receptors, to what is way beyond us, and deep inside (Lamott, 7).

Begin with a significant passage, words that seem to jump out and speak to you. The words may seem important, but they may also be reaching into your own thoughts lying deep within, just waiting to be explored and brought into the light.

            I chose the passage above because I am reading Anne Lamott’s Help. Thanks. Wow. and I thought it would be a good idea to practice what I ask my own students to do. I ask them to make connections with the books they are reading. And I ask them to make connections for many reasons – because it seems to make writing and reading more meaningful, because it’s like discovering your own thoughts and your own voice, because it helps me and other readers – even struggling readers – to engage their brains in an activity they may not have known they could do. Making connections makes literacy meaningful. It deepens understanding and helps us make meaning, not only from the text, but, even more importantly, out of our own life experiences.

            Anne Lamott’s search for and explanation of prayer reminds me of my own search for a spiritual and prayerful life. This is a journey that continues today. Even after 52 years I find myself yearning for more, searching for truth, and bumbling my way along in my religion and faith. I know a lot of prayers, but the ones that bring me closest to feeling God’s presence are the ones when I’m just being myself and speaking or writing my heart’s truth. At first, that mostly happened when I found myself in catastrophe and felt desperate for a quick and easy rescue. I’ve cried, “Help me,” throughout all my life trials: at endings when I wasn’t ready to let go, at beginnings where I was afraid to start, and in middles where I found myself lost, depressed, or tired. In my letters to God, I’ve made lists of my heart’s desire as I tried to imagine a better life. I’ve poured out my feelings too. And sometimes, I imagined God’s words writing back to me. He always reminds me how much I am loved and that everything is going to be okay.

            Eventually, my letters of prayer included lists of gratitude – of what I was thankful for. Today, on my 52^nd Thanksgiving Day, I am grateful for my sweet husband, my children and family and friends, my colleagues and students and the cool and meaningful work we get to do together, my faith, church family and Father Jack, for getting to travel to D.C., be a presenter and attend fabulous presentations and think more deeply about the work I love, and for three particular students, who have found writing about life a meaningful way to make sense of it. They keep sharing their poems and blogs with me and encourage me to do the same. Thank you Chrysta, K. J., and Mela. Here I am, writing again.

            So what about the significant passage above? I could wax on and on about my connection, but it’s only complete when I come back to the text and wonder, SO WHAT? What is the author trying to say about universal truth or meaning that could impact all readers? At this point, I’m only a third of the way through, so I will make a prediction about the SO WHAT. I think Lamott’s message will be that prayer is a simple and sometimes scary way to slow down, be in the moment, and take a good look at ourselves in the light of God’s love. Prayer challenges us to see beyond the crazy belief systems we may have been brought up with, especially when those belief systems dumped a lot of shame. Prayer is a way to be honest about our own behavior and part in things. But prayer is also a way to bask in God’s love and learn to treat ourselves with gentleness and kindness as we continue to bumble along our faith journeys. The more I treat myself that way, the easier it is for me to be gentle and kind to the souls I bump into along the way.

            In closing, I leave you with another significant passage. In speaking of prayer, Lamott writes, “If I were going to begin practicing the presence of God for the first time today, it would help to begin by admitting the three most terrible truths of our existence: that we are so ruined, and so loved, and in charge of so little” (27).

Thank you, God, for the gift of connections and prayer.

Lamott, Anne. Help. Thanks. Wow. 2012. New York: Penguin Group. Print

A Poem for my Mama

Mama

 

This morning I closed my eyes

breathed in deeply

and searched.

I searched for that piece of me

of who I really am,

how I began

to breathe,

to love,

to be.

I remembered joy,

            smiling from ear to ear,

            and you.

I remembered you, Mama,

            sharing with me the wonder

            of snow made into ice cream

            a thin book of mud pies

            and coloring a tree

            with me, side by side -

my mama and me

just being

together.

And I remember a Saturday night

in the house on Kenyon

just you and me

some late night movie 

playing in black and white

and me brushing your hair.

I marveled at my pretty mama

and you laughed

because you had no make-up.

I didn’t understand

how you could not know

you’re beautiful.

You are

   still

beautiful

and such a part of me,

how I began,

and who I will always be.

Existing "More Than I Did Four Months Ago"

I have just finished the first section, “Italy,” in Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir, Eat, Pray, Love. I feel a connection between the main character, Liz, and my own life. She’s a published writer; I’m a want-to-be-published writer. She experienced depression before, during, and after her divorce; so did I. She is a seeker, searching for healing, faith devotion, and authentic love; me too! One of my favorite lines so far – and the lines that struck a chord of connection for me – comes at the end of the Italy section: “The easiest, most fundamentally human way to say it is that I have put on weight. I exist more than I did four months ago.”

In her travels, Liz Gilbert has just finished the first leg of her year long journey: four months in Italy, four months in India, four months in Indonesia. In Italy, she gained back weight lost in the years of divorce and depression, and then added a few more as she allowed herself the pleasures of eating, making friends, and learning to speak Italian.

I am like Liz. At the end of my four rounds of chemo, “…I have put on weight.” I too “… exist more than I did four months ago.”

And like Liz, I just finished the first leg of my own, year long journey. My healing has been different – and almost opposite of the emotional healing she found in Italy. My healing from breast cancer has been more like a tearing apart – more like a divorce as a surgeon tore out cancer cells and an oncologist has sought to destroy any that might have remained, hidden somewhere in my body.

During the past four months I have been more in problem-solving mode and less in deep search of my self. I learned that “chemo-brain” is real as I have been unable to focus on quiet things like writing and making deep connections. Even my prayers have been more like bursts of fireworks than basking in the quiet presence of my Higher Power. My brain has been like a squirrel on steroids, hopping from tree to tree in search of sustenance, more like the squirrels in my parents’ backyard, taking time to tease and torment dogs – other creatures of God to be sure, but creatures who appear to think so differently from the squirrel.

I have spent my squirrel-ier days hopping from task to task: lesson planning, grading, and learning about my students within bursts of hanging up their pictures and artwork. (Teaching really is the perfect job for the A.D.D. brain, as we are constantly required to flit from task to task.) Reading one book at a time, however, has been a greater struggle. So has the mountain of paperwork I’ve collected to turn into insurance. Yet, I’ve been able to play those crazy word games with friends, text message, keep up with politics, and post messages that reveal my liberalism and irritate my conservative friends. In that way, I’m like the squirrel, flitting and flying with possibility while incessantly claiming to my more grounded friends that they must be wrong and cannot see as clearly from their fenced in perspective.

It is in the quiet and white space of a Sunday afternoon that I know more deeply that my political posts and yipping will not bring us closer to a genuine understanding of each other’s perspectives. It’s like we are playing football politics right now. And it makes me sad. I sense that we have lost credibility with one another – that our minds might be permanently closed to the ideas represented by the “other side.”

Nonetheless, I’m grateful to be able to put this feeling into words. My mind and ability to focus are returning to me. Being able to sit quietly with this thought and challenge – gives me hope that a solution will arrive one day, walking up to open the door that, at present, stands closed between us.

Liz, from Eat, Pray, Love, will continue her healing, but now, I predict, in a spiritual way – as she learns more about a voice that speaks with her in her most despairing moments.

As my mind and focus return to me, I hope and pray in the coming weeks of radiation and physical healing from the chemo, that I too will be better able to hear that voice. The voice that speaks to me of love, healing, guidance, and goodness.

Day 81 out of 84

Today is October 7, 2012 – Day 81 out of 84 days of poisoning my body so I might live. J The last time I posted, I believe was just after Day 1. I had hair then, was a little afraid, but highly optimistic. And I weighed about 12 pounds less than what I way right now. What happened? Chemo brain, school began, and I kept waiting to catch-up... 

Quick Summary: I’m through with chemo treatments. Beginning Thursday, my body is through with Taxotere and Cytoxin, the poisons that cause the acid reflux, nausea, hair loss, fatigue, and chemo brain.  It was dreadful, awful, and by the grace of God and loving family and friends… I have made it through. I almost feel guilty for complaining – I only had 4 chemo treatments; most of the people I know who have had to endure chemo, had a minimum of 8 treatments – some, much, much more.

If I knew I had 4 or more chemo treatments to go…. I’d be tempted to give in and give up. But for now, being so close to the end, I feel relief – the kind of relief that allows me to finally shed tears, a few at a time… and mostly they are tears of gratitude. I’m not afraid anymore. I no longer feel the need to be strong for those around me. We are through the roughest waters of this journey.

Beginning in a week or so… I will have 34 radiation treatments focusing on my right breast – the same one where Dr. Talbert performed the lumpectomy. Dr. Toma, my oncologist, cautions me about expecting too much of myself too fast – I might have mentioned that I hoped my hair would grow back and I’d lose the 12 pounds I’ve gained by next week or next month… and that I’d be able to finish writing that darn thesis. She looked at me with all seriousness and said, “No.” It could take anywhere from 6 months to a year, to be back to myself. Ha! I replied inside my own head so she couldn’t hear me. She doesn’t know what an overachiever I am. Which is ironic for those of you who know me – because I’m also a procrastinator. How does that happen?

Anyways, by Christmas I’ll be done with radiation. This Thursday, I see Dr. Toma and begin taking bigger doses of Herceptin (that miracle drug that will ensure the cancer doesn’t return). I have to have a heart scan on October 18 to make sure Herceptin isn’t causing heart damage. Pretty sure that’s not happening, but prayers and positive thinking and light would still be appreciated.

Signing off for now. Keeping it short (I had intended to write what I wrote in my Writer’s Notebook this morning… but maybe next time). Thanks for asking about me, caring about me, wondering if I was ever going to post an update… And thanks Mindie and Kathy for encouraging me to write again!

Love to all my fans!  (LOL!)  And to all those who put up with me.

Shelly

Delayed in Posting

I didn’t write for awhile, just because I was waiting for the next thing to happen. Then so much happened at once, I didn’t know where to start, and once Chemo kicked in, challenges overwhelmed me.

For today, I will catch you up. Then I will write about my many, many gratitudes.

4 Chemo Treatments x 21 day cycles = 84 days.

Today I’m on day 12 of my first Chemo treatment cycle. I’m over half way through. Yeah! And I think it was on day 11 that I realized the biggest challenge gripping me was fear. Like on Days 6 and 7, I began to think the remaining 74 days would be just like that and I would not be able to work. I was ready to call my school and let them know I’d be in sometime in October and not a day before. Today, I feel much differently. Hopefully, I’ve experienced the worst and survived. Unless each chemo treatment gets progressively worse. But so far, my cancer/chemo buddies, tell me the first treatment is the roughest. So I’m going with that.

The two greatest challenges for me this first time – other than fatigue – were nausea and acid reflux (which completely aggravated the nausea). I felt like I was rotting from the inside out. And the smell of my body reminded me of the old people in my childhood. Perhaps that’s atrophy – our bodies stop making fast growing cells and begin to die? I dunno, but that was part of my thinking. 

The first three days weren’t so bad. Emend, is the anti-nausea med I took for the first 3 days. My back-up after that was Ativan and Phenergan, but they made me sleepy. So on Day 4, after church, I went home and slept the day away. That’s kinda what happened on Monday and Tuesday – which was disappointing because I was counting on those as back-to-work days. Finally, on Day 6, I called the Dr’s office and asked what to do about the Nausea and acid reflux – the original plan was not working.  New meds and new plan. By Day 8, I was feeling much better. Still very tired, but so much better than before. I will be able to continue working. I’m hoping to take 2 to 3 days off at the beginning of each chemo cycle, but that will only be twice, once students return to school.

I’m very fortunate and blessed. I know so many who have had to endure so much more. Even on my bad days, I knew 84 of them would be my maximum. So I give thanks for my healing and brief suffering. And my heart goes out to all those whose suffering overwhelms them. May they be comforted and surrounded with the blessings of friends, family, and hope.

So… Chemo Treatment One, included my sweet husband, see picture above.  I had planned to fix my hair, while I still had hair to fix, but our electricity went out that morning. So we both wore pink hats, courtesy of Cathey Klasek. I think we look kinda cute! J