A year ago a friend and I arrived at Dublin Airport in Ireland and looked to meet up with our driver Ted, our navigator for the next 10 days, as we visited previously selected sites courtesy of the Irish Tour Company that we worked with. Since we were both independent travelers and had different interests and respect of same, we could come and go sometimes together and sometimes solo because Ted was at our “beck and call”. It also lessened the impact on our trip when three days in I became ill.
Intermittently I felt fine and not well but still was able to enjoy the rest of the trip until Galway our last stop before heading to Dublin for the weekend and then home. After spending a night at the Galway University Hospital and having tests for possible heart issues, and then cleared with a treadmill test, my friend said: “I’ll be fine… if you want to change your flight and go home, go.” Music to my ears. After a lovely train ride from Galway to Dublin Airport, I arrived home three days early with what I call: ‘found time’. Since I was off of my own schedule, I slept and prepared for a new chapter since my husband was soon to have some follow-up treatment for a return of prostate cancer.
In reviewing the months following my return from Ireland in May of 2018, I noticed that my writing and photography became less frequent; other things that I normally had great energy for were also coming to an end; things were less clear and I started for the first time in a long time paying attention to noticing more, not just of what I needed but what I had and learning to allow the days to happen and not planning so much in advance. I visited my youngest son in Brooklyn in his first apartment without roommates; celebrated birthdays; I met people in my neighborhood; on the streets of New York; connected with younger entrepreneurial moms; hugged their children; listened more; gotten to know my family members in a new way; watched my grand nephew be grand as he turned into a young man; relied on a friend who is an artist and my coach to hold a safe space for me to lay it all on the table and cheer me on when I let things go, and picked up new things to focus on. I listened to simple sermons presented by a Spirit led chaplain who distilled the long known stories of the kingdom into simple homilies given to tired adults (and me) and their young children who dance and play their rhythm instruments during the final hymn … modeling joy for all of us.
As an immigrant at age 6 I grew up in a time in a small town in south central Nebraska where life had it’s own mixture of joy and pain, but also just the right people at school and my neighbors who were our cultural navigators; the retired couple at the library who prepared us to navigate beyond if that was our calling. I have grieved quietly and loudly at the discord in our country; especially at those who demean and use the other to elevate themselves.
After the deepest grief and sadness, I learned to listen again about what if might be mine to do to love God and neighbor … Jesus’s only commands in his sermon on the mountain to his followers so many years ago and today. His words don’t change, we just disregard them over and over again in each new generation with our own priorities and prejudices.
So after an audit and a further paring down of what is mine to do and a long rest … it comes back to what I’ve loved doing and sharing before. Noticing, creating with my hands whether with words, yarn or ingredients; offering insight, listening,learning, encouragement, in life’s transitions … to the next generation of makers, creators, parents, and women entrepreneurs and artists; continuing to get over myself and appreciating the good and the beautiful and living in the unforced rhythms of grace trusting the Trustable for direction in each new season.
Oh, today’s image, is in downtown Denver at the light rail station on a rainy day… beautiful but not clearly seen. 🙂
PS Another new chapter in the prostate cancer journey begins again. We welcome your thoughts and prayers.
