Don't hesitate!

For the last few days, watching the sad soap opera of Terri Schiavo's last days on tv, I've been thinking so much about the death of my dad. Though Daddy and I were of different faiths, I totally admired, no -- revered -- the way that he faced his oncoming death. He had no doubt whatsoever that he would be in God's loving presence. We talked about how maybe, somehow, he would see his father (who died when he was four) and his beloved brother Wayne (who died at 19, in front of my dad, when a small plane crashed on their farm). One day, we went up to visit and Dad distributed some nice bags and cameras to my family. There was no reason to deny it -- he knew he was going. And he handled it so well. And so did we, I think.

Part of the goodness of those last days was Pastor Dave. My parents' minister at Mt. Olive Lutheran Church in Greenwood, he has a big heart and a huge amount of tolerence and openness. When we gathered one night around Dad's bed, Pastor Dave prayed and only read from Psalms -- nothing from the New Testament. Later, Mom told me that he had not wanted to hurt our feelings, knowing that we were Jewish. I was astounded at his generosity of spirit.

And those days were sad, they were hard, but they were also so good, because as a family, we really came together. We shared the time of letting-go together.

Everywhere, families face death, all the time. Of course, it is especially sad when a young person dies. But I just can't help but wonder what led that poor family of Terri Shiavo to be so blind? If they could have accepted that she was never going to recover, and shared the grief, it would have been so much better.

I've always felt that it is wrong and selfish to pray FOR something. The only real prayer, I think, is "Thy will be done." Or maybe "Give me the wisdom to see what is right, or the strength to deal with it." To be so deep in denial of Terri Shiavo's condition -- and all those right-wingers proclaiming and grandstanding -- is, to me, a denial of faith.

Now, we Jews don't claim to know what happens after death. We do think there is some kind of afterlife, but we just don't define it, I think.

But I know that whatever happens, I will have learned some lessons from this life and I will return to God's loving embrace.

I think, instead of paying thousands of dollars a month to keep me alive artificially, you should let me go and give the money to people who are hungry, or to something worthwhile. Don't waste it because of some obsessive feeling that the doctors must do everything in their powers to thwart fate. I'll know that you love me enough to be strong for me. PULL THE PLUG!

My worst fault

So. The last couple of days I've been STEAMING MAD, HURT, HAD TROUBLE SLEEPING...and for what? Jordie took Abby away for a couple of days -- a spring break trip, a reward for working really, really hard getting her bedroom cleaned out and reassembled to facilitate installing the new carpet.

Jordie and I had a recent conversation about how he only likes to get calls on his cell in an emergency, and how he often has it turned off.

Of course, I do get calls from him sometimes -- calls rearranging an appointment, wondering where I am, etc. Calls that make life a little bit more convenient.

So I already had an agenda going.

Jordie and Abby get ready to leave Wednesday, and he casually mentioned "We may go to Red River Gorge instead of the Shawnee National Forest." I say "Let me know."

Later that day there was a glitch about money being tranferred into Adam's account for a car repair, and I called Abby's cell phone and was grouchy with them about having to work out that glitch.

That night, when I tried to call both Jordie and Abby's cell phones, they both immediately went to voice mail.

Tried again. Voice mail.

Tried again. Voice mail.

Tried Thursday morning. Voice mail.

Then I got mad.

I ASSUMED that Jordie had said "Turn these damned cell phones off."

I ASSUMED that he cared nothing about whether things were OK at home.

I ASSUMED that he cared nothing about whether I was mad.

I'm walking the dog last night, actually muttering about THAT HUSBAND and HOW COULD HE and HE'D BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON. Even had tears in my eyes. How could he not care?

I left Jordie a message on his phone, a really angry message about what if an emergency happened? And how I don't even know if they're in Illinois or Kentucky?

I talked to Malinda, during our morning walk at the Y. "What if the phones don't work because the car is at the bottom of a lake?"

As I sat drinking coffee and eating a cheese danish at Panera (my life is awful and my husband won't turn on his cell phone and why should i be good -- i deserve that danish!) my cell phone rang. It was Abby.

They were at Red River Gorge. And...the phones didn't work in that area. And they were calling to tell me about the wonderful time they had down there.

Just Wednesday, as I was buying a birthday present for my friend Vicki at Borders, I spotted a little book called The Four Agreements, by a shaman and teacher out west.

One of the Four Agreements (which people should make with themselves, I gather) is to NOT MAKE ASSUMPTIONS.

I need to read that little book very carefully! Because jumping to conclusions is, I feel, my worst fault. I can concoct a whole story so quickly, and convince myself that it is the truth. This one little incident illustrates so well how unhappy I can become, based on a complete fantasy.

Now, I'm going to buy some ice cream to take home and have waiting for my two adventurous travelers, and make a really good dinner for them.

Shabbat shalom.

Being here and now

If I stay up just a few more minutes, I may be a little more tired in the morning, but I WILL have the delight-quotient of watching Jon Stewart's opening on The Daily Show. The delight outweighs the tiredness.

Tonight while Abby was having her Torah tutoring with Amy, Jordie and I went to the new Bakehouse and sat with our hot drinks in front of the fire, talking and planning about Abby's bat mitzvah.

Now THAT was a delightful time -- perhaps all these years we should have been a little better at actually scheduling time with each other. It's so good to be doing it now.

The windchimes on the porch are ringing so that I can hear them even here in the back of the house. A windy night, getting colder, but Sadie is curled up by my feet contentedly. Feels good to have her for company.

I thought, earlier, while I was walking Sadie, that dogs really do know how to live in the moment....how to be really awake to the pleasures in front of them. For Sadie, a leaf blowing across the street is a thrill: "It's a leaf! Got to get it!" I can hear her thinking. She trots out, tail up and wagging, each time we go for a walk. I think that my walks with her are times when I live more in the moment, too. Listening to the trees creak in the wind tonight, breathing slowly, letting Sadie sniff every little thing. Feeling awake about the pleasure of taking a walk.

Yesterday while I was driving to mom's house in Greenwood, I had a moment on 135 that really woke me up. A woman in a minivan was passing -- in my lane -- coming head on for me. I slowed way ahead of time, but she kept coming...I had to slam on my brakes and I was about one second from jerking the wheel to the right and driving through a wire fence to escape a crash. She pulled over. Thank God.

But it did make me think what a truly delightful life I have!