I love walking outside in comparison to indoors. So I walk for an hour everyday possible in our northeast Oklahoma town up and down the streets in a residential section and downtown on main street. I'm a waver, a tree-hugger, a nodder. Some drivers wave back and some stare at me like I'm from Mars. Some smile and honk their horns and some frown and make faces. God love us all!!
One day last week a gentleman stopped his car right on the street, put it in park and began to visit. He introduced himself and told me about how much his wife enjoys my articles. He said she wasn't in the best of health and one day told him she sure would love it if I'd visit her one day. How would you turn that invitation down!! He tore off a scrap of the adjacent brown paper bag in his front seat and wrote down her name and their address and phone number. He thanked me, put his car in drive and sped away.
I carried the little piece paper tightly in my hand.
I called him a few days later and made an appointment with them. Today was the day. What a cutie!! She has soft white hair, a little bit of difficulty walking, a very gentle voice and a warm smile. We settled into the rockers in their living room. I gave her my book and thought perhaps I'd stay a few minutes to chat and then hurry on to my list of Very Important Things to Do!
She thanked me for the book and then began to explain that she loves my patients' stories and how much they mean to her. She said, "I'm not afraid to die."
That's when I realized that this visit wasn't going to be a 'come and go' one. I settled in some more. Her husband excused himself to go see a friend. I think he knew what was coming.
She shared about her health, her childhood, her children, her talent of painting, showing me several really very nice pieces. She pointed to one nature setting. "See the mushrooms in this one? My mother told me I wasn't through with this painting until I added the mushrooms."
"Your Mother?" I always pay attention to comments like this and respect them! So many have shared with me before of deceased relatives occasionally speaking to them.
She nodded.
"Your Mother speaks to you?"
"Yes, she does. We were very close." She affirmed and then went back to describing her work with the hidden mushrooms, a squirrel's nest, a hummingbird, an owl woven into the art with just a hint of where they were hiding. Each piece was serene and inviting.
"You see Becki, we all have talents given to us from God. Yours is in how you sit with people as they are dying and your writing. Mine is painting. We are suppose to use our talents.
I want you to know I pray for you and your success. I want you to know I appreciate your talents." She smiled while patting my hands.
I bent over and gathered her up close and hugged the whey out of her! "Thank you!"
We prayed together for her strength, humor, peace and all she needed for the rest of her days.
I drove home smiling at the Very Important Things to Do List idea. Sometimes Spirit/God/All That Is adds to our list a surprise.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Saturday, September 21, 2013
The Waiting Room
Her Mom called to see if I could assist with her with getting her daughter to the doctor for an assessment. She needed to get to work and I was more than willing to help. You see I've known this young lady since the day she was born.
She is having some emotional/mental/self-destructive problems. You know, the kind that no one likes to talk about. And that is one of the reasons I'm sharing this!! Mental/Emotional illness(s) need to have a new awareness day so we can talk about it and we can get help for loved ones and yes! help for those on the street and under the bridges as well!!
Let's call her Sabrina.
Sabrina has been a delight always. She loves children, she loves soccer, she loves movies and laughing with friends. She has a huge heart and always stops to open doors for elderly strangers, loves cats, loves family.
She also struggles with reading and learns best in an alternative learning setting. She started getting tattoos as soon as she was legally able. Then she got nose rings, gauges in her earlobes, bellybutton ring, dyed her hair blue, then blonde, then black and shaves it off in odd places.
Then one day her Mom called to share that Sabrina had started cutting herself. She was abusing alcohol and crying more than normal. She was displaying anger outbursts as well.
She did have good days but the not so good days were outnumbering the good ones. She couldn't keep a job. She couldn't sleep.
She told her Mom she needed to drink until she passed out so she could sleep.
She now has asked for help. "Why am I so angry?" "Why do I want to hurt myself?"
"Why does the pain in my soul calm down only if I create a worse pain by hurting myself?"
So here we sat in the waiting room for 6 hours. Believe me, I'm not complaining. The staff was exceptional. They were kind and non-judgmental acting to everyone who arrived for an assessment.
We witnessed so much in those few hours: mothers sitting with daughters, daughters sitting with mothers, friends sitting with friends, some all alone, some in wheelchairs with blank stares.
Coffee was offered and even snacks. Private rooms were available. And a security officer was standing behind the desk with the employees.
Some were crying and some were speechless. There were those who were rocking back and forth, pacing in circles, or speaking of the deceased wife, pointing to a nature painting, saying, "See, there she is now. Isn't she beautiful? What a gal! ....Say what time does this plane leave?"
Sabrina was dressed in torn clothes, hadn't showered in days, no make-up, had a black eye and bruised ribs from running into a doorway trying to avoid "someone in my bedroom that I can't see". But she was the one who greeted everyone who nodded in her direction. She listened to the guy about his wife and smiled at him. She chatted with the fellow who asked her what she was doing in this room when others just looked away. She helped with holding a door open for one arriving in a wheel chair. She thanked everyone who worked there when they were assisting her with paperwork. She thanked them for the coffee they gave her. She thanked them for the sandwich and chips after we'd been there several hours.
She visited with me about her love of family and the desire to 'get well'. She thanked me for being with her and driving so many miles to be with her. She spoke of regret for those she had disappointed.
And then as they told her it was time to be admitted and see the doctor and stay awhile she hugged me and wept. I thought I might explode with heartache and love for this child all at once. But I was calm and told her I was so proud of her decision to find healing and wholeness. I walked to my car as bravely as I could and waited till I had driven several miles before I tried to tell God/Spirit/All That Is how grateful I was for her admission for help. I prayed for her precious wounded parts to be brought to Light and for the healing to begin.
I called her dear Mother and shared all and we wept together and expressed thanksgiving as well for her courage to seek the help.
Having an emotional or mental illness is not a sin, no more than high blood pressure or diabetes, or cancer is.
Many who are drug addicts and/or alcoholics as so due to the great desire to self-medicate their inner pain.
Judge no one! It could be any of us!
She is having some emotional/mental/self-destructive problems. You know, the kind that no one likes to talk about. And that is one of the reasons I'm sharing this!! Mental/Emotional illness(s) need to have a new awareness day so we can talk about it and we can get help for loved ones and yes! help for those on the street and under the bridges as well!!
Let's call her Sabrina.
Sabrina has been a delight always. She loves children, she loves soccer, she loves movies and laughing with friends. She has a huge heart and always stops to open doors for elderly strangers, loves cats, loves family.
She also struggles with reading and learns best in an alternative learning setting. She started getting tattoos as soon as she was legally able. Then she got nose rings, gauges in her earlobes, bellybutton ring, dyed her hair blue, then blonde, then black and shaves it off in odd places.
Then one day her Mom called to share that Sabrina had started cutting herself. She was abusing alcohol and crying more than normal. She was displaying anger outbursts as well.
She did have good days but the not so good days were outnumbering the good ones. She couldn't keep a job. She couldn't sleep.
She told her Mom she needed to drink until she passed out so she could sleep.
She now has asked for help. "Why am I so angry?" "Why do I want to hurt myself?"
"Why does the pain in my soul calm down only if I create a worse pain by hurting myself?"
So here we sat in the waiting room for 6 hours. Believe me, I'm not complaining. The staff was exceptional. They were kind and non-judgmental acting to everyone who arrived for an assessment.
We witnessed so much in those few hours: mothers sitting with daughters, daughters sitting with mothers, friends sitting with friends, some all alone, some in wheelchairs with blank stares.
Coffee was offered and even snacks. Private rooms were available. And a security officer was standing behind the desk with the employees.
Some were crying and some were speechless. There were those who were rocking back and forth, pacing in circles, or speaking of the deceased wife, pointing to a nature painting, saying, "See, there she is now. Isn't she beautiful? What a gal! ....Say what time does this plane leave?"
Sabrina was dressed in torn clothes, hadn't showered in days, no make-up, had a black eye and bruised ribs from running into a doorway trying to avoid "someone in my bedroom that I can't see". But she was the one who greeted everyone who nodded in her direction. She listened to the guy about his wife and smiled at him. She chatted with the fellow who asked her what she was doing in this room when others just looked away. She helped with holding a door open for one arriving in a wheel chair. She thanked everyone who worked there when they were assisting her with paperwork. She thanked them for the coffee they gave her. She thanked them for the sandwich and chips after we'd been there several hours.
She visited with me about her love of family and the desire to 'get well'. She thanked me for being with her and driving so many miles to be with her. She spoke of regret for those she had disappointed.
And then as they told her it was time to be admitted and see the doctor and stay awhile she hugged me and wept. I thought I might explode with heartache and love for this child all at once. But I was calm and told her I was so proud of her decision to find healing and wholeness. I walked to my car as bravely as I could and waited till I had driven several miles before I tried to tell God/Spirit/All That Is how grateful I was for her admission for help. I prayed for her precious wounded parts to be brought to Light and for the healing to begin.
I called her dear Mother and shared all and we wept together and expressed thanksgiving as well for her courage to seek the help.
Having an emotional or mental illness is not a sin, no more than high blood pressure or diabetes, or cancer is.
Many who are drug addicts and/or alcoholics as so due to the great desire to self-medicate their inner pain.
Judge no one! It could be any of us!
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Pure-de-Love
She had been coming every day that week for her chemotherapy in August of 1986 to the outpatient chemotherapy department where I was working. This particular day I noticed the color in her face had noticeably improved and she exhibited a 'spring' in her step.
She did not hesitate as she entered the treatment room. She entered boldly and with a sense of purpose! Her ever-present companion and marriage partner of 48 years assisted as she positioned herself on the, anything but comfortable, hospital bed.
"Hey, he's a pretty good nurse, huh?" an attendant in the room remarked to her.
"Oh the best, absolutely the best, whether I'm in the hospital or at home," she answered, grinning proudly and winking. In so doing she exposed the catheter under her collarbone where the medications would be administered.
"Oh, you two!" another patient teased. "What makes it work so well after so long anyway?"
While I slowly gave the prescribed potent drugs, the pampered patient and her husband began to share. He spoke first, "You learn that you can't just take and take. You have to give and give just as much, maybe more."
"True", she nodded in agreement in his direction. "We've had our moments. Why, I've even wanted to knock his block off a couple of times."
Then, her crystal blue eyes stared into a private space. She began to verbalize her feelings carefully, slowly.
"You figure out after a while what's really important. You know, the common sense stuff, like learning you can live just fine without credit cards. And you let the housework go for a day if he wants you to go fishing with him. You can't just up and get a divorce if you don't agree on something. You take time to talk. You make time to listen. You take time to be alone and you make time to be together."
With her worn beige handbag propped between his knees and never more than two feet from her side, I watched him gaze at her with pride.
A nurse's aide step next to me and whispered, "Pure-de-love."
Then, snapping back into the present, she directed a final warning, "You know girls, life is too short to be unhappily married."
"Well, we're through already? Let's get some of that ice cold protein drink from the dietician before we leave, dear. Think I'll try chocolate today. Nothing like a cold drink on a hot august day." She ended our impromptu counseling.
"Chocolate it'll be then, Hon," he answered while zipping her paisley printed dress. "See you girls tomorrow."
Away they walked, arm in arm. Pulling off gloves and disposable gown, I breathed a quick prayer. "Thank you Lord for unscheduled lectures. Please help me refine my listening skills to avoid missing even one of them! Amen"
That evening when I arrived home I hugged my husband with an extra squeeze!!
Becki Hawkins
www.ladyhawkpublishing.com
author of Transitions: A Nurse's Education about Life and Death
She did not hesitate as she entered the treatment room. She entered boldly and with a sense of purpose! Her ever-present companion and marriage partner of 48 years assisted as she positioned herself on the, anything but comfortable, hospital bed.
"Hey, he's a pretty good nurse, huh?" an attendant in the room remarked to her.
"Oh the best, absolutely the best, whether I'm in the hospital or at home," she answered, grinning proudly and winking. In so doing she exposed the catheter under her collarbone where the medications would be administered.
"Oh, you two!" another patient teased. "What makes it work so well after so long anyway?"
While I slowly gave the prescribed potent drugs, the pampered patient and her husband began to share. He spoke first, "You learn that you can't just take and take. You have to give and give just as much, maybe more."
"True", she nodded in agreement in his direction. "We've had our moments. Why, I've even wanted to knock his block off a couple of times."
Then, her crystal blue eyes stared into a private space. She began to verbalize her feelings carefully, slowly.
"You figure out after a while what's really important. You know, the common sense stuff, like learning you can live just fine without credit cards. And you let the housework go for a day if he wants you to go fishing with him. You can't just up and get a divorce if you don't agree on something. You take time to talk. You make time to listen. You take time to be alone and you make time to be together."
With her worn beige handbag propped between his knees and never more than two feet from her side, I watched him gaze at her with pride.
A nurse's aide step next to me and whispered, "Pure-de-love."
Then, snapping back into the present, she directed a final warning, "You know girls, life is too short to be unhappily married."
"Well, we're through already? Let's get some of that ice cold protein drink from the dietician before we leave, dear. Think I'll try chocolate today. Nothing like a cold drink on a hot august day." She ended our impromptu counseling.
"Chocolate it'll be then, Hon," he answered while zipping her paisley printed dress. "See you girls tomorrow."
Away they walked, arm in arm. Pulling off gloves and disposable gown, I breathed a quick prayer. "Thank you Lord for unscheduled lectures. Please help me refine my listening skills to avoid missing even one of them! Amen"
That evening when I arrived home I hugged my husband with an extra squeeze!!
Becki Hawkins
www.ladyhawkpublishing.com
author of Transitions: A Nurse's Education about Life and Death
A Celebration of Life
Our daughter introduced me to a dear friend of hers on Face Book several months ago. She wanted me to get to know her since her husband was fighting an aggressive cancer. She thought that maybe I could read her posts and think of something to say that might be helpful since my career had been in Oncology and Hospice as a registered nurse and chaplain.
What I did, more than anything, was 'listen' to her posts and reply if she asked for a reply. I am amazed that this beautiful young woman displayed such courage, fight, compassion, strength, and yes, even at times, humor, in the many ups and downs these challenges can bring to one's doorsteps.
With her writing I felt I knew the lay of the land where they lived. I could see the terrain, feel the summer heat, and hear the dogs bark with enthusiasm when her beloved would return from a trip to the oncologist. My heart would swell when she poured her heart into her written words.
About eight weeks ago her beloved died or as I like to say, transitioned. She was planning the memorial service and asked if I could share some words of comfort and a prayer at the end of the service she had diligently planned.
I always try to honor the specifics a family requests. Her requests were simply, "Keep it short, please." Because, you see, she had already planned a beautiful service: the music he loved, her own sharing of words, a very close friend's sharing, and a detailed tribute to his life in a video presentation, and the gift of friends who were willing to stand and share remembrances. And with all of this before I spoke, I came to know her beloved even more.
He loved movies, he was brilliant, he was compassionate, he had a great sense of humor, he owned "intense wit", was in love with his dogs, and always, always made integrity the backbone of his life. Person after person stood to speak.
You see, the thing is this: I have attended or spoke at so many services over the years. But this celebration of a life was one of the most touching, unforgettable celebrations I've ever had the honor to attend.
We all will have our day. It's a given. At some hour after we make our own transition, someone will be standing to speak about us. How do you want to be remembered? Truly folks, it's not about our degrees, our connections with movie stars, our china, our cars or our flowerbeds or diamonds! Not that there is anything wrong with any of that. But, at the end of the day it is about how we treat one another (animals and earth included).
Grab your spouse or partner and hug and kiss at random times of the day, take the kids for a play date as a surprise, call your Mother or your Father or Grandparents or siblings and share some great memories with them, give a co-worker a fresh cut bunch of daises or an armload of brilliant mums, visit one who is lonely,....not so someone can speak highly of you, but because it's good for our souls. For how we treat one another is embedded into the 'DNA' of our souls and that energy stays with us for eternity. And! There is a study that shows when one is blessing another, three are blessed: the one who blesses, the one who is being blessed, and the one who observes it!
Namaste!
What I did, more than anything, was 'listen' to her posts and reply if she asked for a reply. I am amazed that this beautiful young woman displayed such courage, fight, compassion, strength, and yes, even at times, humor, in the many ups and downs these challenges can bring to one's doorsteps.
With her writing I felt I knew the lay of the land where they lived. I could see the terrain, feel the summer heat, and hear the dogs bark with enthusiasm when her beloved would return from a trip to the oncologist. My heart would swell when she poured her heart into her written words.
About eight weeks ago her beloved died or as I like to say, transitioned. She was planning the memorial service and asked if I could share some words of comfort and a prayer at the end of the service she had diligently planned.
I always try to honor the specifics a family requests. Her requests were simply, "Keep it short, please." Because, you see, she had already planned a beautiful service: the music he loved, her own sharing of words, a very close friend's sharing, and a detailed tribute to his life in a video presentation, and the gift of friends who were willing to stand and share remembrances. And with all of this before I spoke, I came to know her beloved even more.
He loved movies, he was brilliant, he was compassionate, he had a great sense of humor, he owned "intense wit", was in love with his dogs, and always, always made integrity the backbone of his life. Person after person stood to speak.
You see, the thing is this: I have attended or spoke at so many services over the years. But this celebration of a life was one of the most touching, unforgettable celebrations I've ever had the honor to attend.
We all will have our day. It's a given. At some hour after we make our own transition, someone will be standing to speak about us. How do you want to be remembered? Truly folks, it's not about our degrees, our connections with movie stars, our china, our cars or our flowerbeds or diamonds! Not that there is anything wrong with any of that. But, at the end of the day it is about how we treat one another (animals and earth included).
Grab your spouse or partner and hug and kiss at random times of the day, take the kids for a play date as a surprise, call your Mother or your Father or Grandparents or siblings and share some great memories with them, give a co-worker a fresh cut bunch of daises or an armload of brilliant mums, visit one who is lonely,....not so someone can speak highly of you, but because it's good for our souls. For how we treat one another is embedded into the 'DNA' of our souls and that energy stays with us for eternity. And! There is a study that shows when one is blessing another, three are blessed: the one who blesses, the one who is being blessed, and the one who observes it!
Namaste!
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