The Nun and Me

Several years ago, when I was still co-directing the NEH Concord Workshops, I met a very kind and very young nun from the Slaves of the Immaculate Heart of Mary who had become separated from her companion. Sisters are not permitted to be alone in public, so I asked if I could stay with her until she located the missing Sister. She was a teacher and, before long, we had formed a friendship based on literature and our devotion to the Holy Mother (I am not Catholic, btw, but I am quite devoted to the Mother Mary). Sister recommended some books and, her friend being found, we parted company.

We have remained friends, corresponding occasionally, sharing books and experiences. And, through many "coincidences" things have unfolded in our relationship that speaks to Divine influence and planning. Prayers I asked her for have been answered and resulted in remarkable interconnections in both our worlds that neither of us could have anticipated.

Our worlds are so very different and, yet, she has contributed to my life in a myriad of ways. I am enriched by her influence and that of her Sisters. And, I have come to understand that her life is just as challenging and interesting as mine. Convent life is no doubt just as real as mine; it isn't sequestered, but, rather, it is rich, full and, even more amazing to me, more useful than I often feel mine is.

And, what surprises me even more, is that friends can be found anywhere if we are just willing to open our eyes and hearts.

Merry Christmas, dear ones!

Kindness

 

Monday I went into work to find these on every door in my office suite.

A conspiracy had taken place while I was gone visiting the Airman and Ms. Airman.

It involved a very sneaky, dear friend and a roll of yellow ribbon.

I cried like a girl...

...which I am.

And a very proud friend, Mum, and American.

Kindness.

Support.

Understanding.

Who could be luckier?

Sometimes It's Hard...

Our neighbor, whom I have written about before, is moving. His partner of 39 years died last fall and now my friend has been diagnosed with a very aggressive form of dementia. His brain is slowly dying and he is unable to stay in his little house on top of the mountain.

This year has been a year of change for him: his partner dying so suddenly; his partner's dog dying from grief just a few weeks later; losing his license; giving up his home; and, lastly, losing what is left of his clarity. Yet, he keeps smiling and telling me that "God isn't done with me yet" and "God must have something left for me to do." He while he understands the changes and, in his clearer moments, grieves them deeply.

Today he called me panic striken. Something was wrong with his dog -- a small toy poodle named Teddie who is 13 years old and has survived a jaw tumor removal which has left him looking like he is leering after something really tasty. Teddie was bleeding from the hindend and we couldn't tell what was wrong. After a very long ride (it seemed to me -- my friend was crying, sobbing, kissing, babbling to the dog all while the dog howled) the vet determined it was just an infected anal gland and the dog would be fine. This started another round of weeping, but at least it was tears of joy!

As we left Teddie with the vet overnight for treatment, I suggested we take the "scenic route" home and get a pop and candy bar to enjoy. At first my friend was still crying, but I kept talking to him about how lovely this time of year is and how this ride is my favorite in all our county. Finally, I got him to look up at the mountains. A slight haze gave them an even bluer colour than we normally have. The valleys rolled away from the mountain tops, giving us an extraordinary mixture of very straight rowed farmland tangled with trees and deep, dark places. Breathtaking!

My friend said to me, "I hate to leave these mountains, but I know it is right. It's just hard."

I patted his hand, "Change always is, sweetie. I hate for you to leave. It's hard."

And we smiled at each other with tear-filled eyes, took another swig of Cheerwine, and looked at the mountains. Somehow, I know, God will help him walk through his valley, just as He helps me, and we will both reach the mountain tops.

Tea for Two

Good morning, sunbeams! So glad you dropped by for a little tea and conversation! Here is my little feast: a fine cup of tea and homemade pumpkin scone with Amish butter. Yum!

This morning I want to tell each of you how much you have come to mean to me. I've only been blogging for a few months; I have lurked at a number of blogs, but it wasn't until September that I took the plunge. You all have made me feel so welcome! Thank you!

Will you take a few minutes to post and then link to your blog? If you have a picture of your tea party, won't you share it there?

Have a glorious day!

Warmly,

Matty

The Bonds of Friendship

Valerie and I were hired within six months of each other and have spent our tenure as frequent workshop roommates and best work buddies. We talk students, walk off grief, and have lunch together several times a month. While we seldom see each other off campus. we live more than 50 miles apart, we are, I consider, close friends.

And, so, when she asked me to participate in the college's "health challenge," I eagerly agreed. Okay, not eagerly. But I did answer her email. In short, it is a six month commitment to work toward better health. Along the way, we are to lose weight, lower our cholesterol, and improve our general well-being. Great. Fine. I am all up for that. Val's a buddy. Right?

Little did I know what a set-up it was.

Valerie is not quite 4'6" and weighs a very slight 105 pounds. She is nearly 60 years old and bikes weekly. She walks and exercises more than an hour a day. Heck, she is halfway through her black belt. Maybe I don't like her as much as I thought.

Anyhow...

Also on our team in Rita. She is a tiny 5'1" and around 120 pounds. She rides bikes, runs, canoes, and cave dives at nearly 60. She auditioned for "Survivor." Come to think of it, I don't know if I really like her either.

But I digress.

And then, there is me. Thank you, but my weight isn't really the issue here, but my newfound disappointment that I didn't inherit any slim genes is growing daily. I should have realized when I signed up that I would have to face certain disappointments. We had to weigh. And measure our waists (I know it is here somewhere). Then figure our BMI. Thankfully, I am not morbidly obese. Sigh.

My idea of a work out is walking to the kitchen twice for a snack. The snack? Sourdough bread with butter and honey. My idea of endurance is driving past Wendy's for McDonald's. My idea of a good weight? One that is less than my sissie's.

So, it should come as no surprise my agony when learning that I had to account, report, to Valerie how many fruits and veggies I eat daily as well as what kind of vigorous activity I complete daily. For the record, cocoa beans in chocolate form do not count as a fruit... or veggie. Valerie insists she is right. I am still researching this one.

I have been very good this week. I have walked every day. I have eaten five servings of veggies (in spite of her insistence that chocolate doesn't count! According to Google, she's right. ). I have done my BMI (we shall not speak of it again).

Yes, I know it is just Wednesday. Thanks for the reminder.