And Stars of Light....

We who live in modern times don't think too highly of starlight.  We might teach our children nursery rhymes about wishing on stars, and might be kind enough not to point out to them that most of the wishes they make are on planets, actually, but don't really think of stars as being anything that sheds significant light on our path.  We all know about our sun-shadows, our streetlight-shadows, and sometimes, our moon-shadows.  But a star-shadow?  Certainly not.

If we were to go back a hundred years, before the majority of Americans were on the grid, we would have a different knowledge. 

Starlight is more subtle.  Hundreds, thousands, nay, millions of suns: Many of them unimaginably larger than our own sun and infinitely farther away, all working in concert to light the sky.  And we are so intent on lighting the ground at our feet that we have made their light nearly invisible.

When I first moved from my small country town to Long Island, the immense orange New York City glow on the western horizon blotted out the entire sky in that direction and diminished the visibility above dramatically.  "How do people here teach their children about the stars?" I remember wondering my first night there.  I adjusted to the lack of stars - it simply felt normal after a while.  And when I moved from there to this smaller city, the reappearance of even a limited number of stars seemed miraculous. 

But on the rare occasions when I am in a light-free zone, perhaps four times in my adult life:  Ah, what  miracle.  If you have never seen an unpolluted sky with every distant star visible, you must add this sight to your bucket list - you must. 

We all understand that we need the Light.  Metaphors for the Holy are all around us - Sun, Moon - it is easy to understand that God casts massive amounts of light on us.  But Babygirl and I are forced, at times, to live in a more subtle light.  Sunlight - even moonlight - is enough to cause us real pain.  But the gentleness of starlight, casting only the smallest round shadow at our feet - we can handle that. 

We wonder sometimes why the broken people we see don't seem to respond to the Love of God.  I think, maybe, it is just too much Light.  It hurts, all that brightness spotlighting our darkness all at once.  Maybe God is calling us to be Starlight for our neighbors:  The softest, gentlest light, adjusting the eyes of darkness for a brighter Light.  It makes sense: Many small lights working together.

Thank God for Starlight.

DeeDee

Sun and Moon......

Yesterday was busy, and a planned soup-and-homemade bread dinner never quite got off the ground.  I did a lot of cleaning, ride sharing to grocery stores, and daydreaming to live Chinese music in a bookstore.  At the end of it all, Babygirl and I had to decide what to do about dinner.

Our church is a busy place.  We feed people.  A lot.  On election day we had a chicken and biscuit fundraiser.  On the first Friday of each month we host a free dinner for any college student who cares to show up.  Our town has three colleges, and our neighborhood has quite a bit of off-campus housing.  About 60 kids come and eat.  On the second and last Saturday of each month there is a free meal for anybody who wants to come, usually a hundred people or so (more at the end of the month when there is less money).  We have a food pantry, open two days a week.  My hubby and his best friend spend a lot of time shopping and cooking.  Babygirl and I don't often attend these meals, she because of her inability to eat food that has been standing out for any length of time (kidney transplant/germ rules) and I due to food allergies.  But we decided that it might be our best option for a hot meal and good company last night.

We drove Curlygirl and Squeaker home first, heading from bookstore to downtown, and from downtown to church.  Along the way we had to pull to the side of the road no less than FIVE times for emergency vehicles, each headed in distinctly different directions.  Fire, police, ambulances:  Everybody going every which way.  The final group was the largest, all apparently ending up in front of the slightly notorious Belmar Hotel, a smallish place where two ambulances, three police cars and one fire rescue truck seemed like they would have more personnel between them than would fit in the building. 

After this last fit of flashing lights, I speculated about the effect of the full moon on human behavior.  Babygirl said, "You don't really believe in that, do you?"

Oddly, medical personnel generally do. "Well, the moon picks up the entire ocean and moves it 12 feet up and down twice a day, right?  And people are mostly made of water, right?  And women's monthly cycles, on average, match the moon's monthly cycle. So....yeah.  I think I do."

So whatevertheheck was going on here last night, full-moon-residual-craziness or otherwise, we said a prayer for everybody and went to church, arriving in time to enjoy a nice, hot meal in the company of some very good folks, and we were grateful.

DeeDee

And Tree and Flower.....

JuJuBee needed a ride to school this morning.  She's doing clinical rotations for her CNA certification at a local nursing home. It's on a bus line, but she had to be there an hour before the Saturday buses begin to run. She and I were treated to a sunrise spectacular all the way there. 

I have a confession to make.  While generally not a fast-food fan, I LOVE the Egg McMuffin.  Since there was a Mickey D's right on my way home from dropping JuJu off, (and since, for once, I was on no particular deadline and I feel that sometimes good deeds like getting out of bed into the icy November predawn should be rewarded) I headed toward the drive-through. Chatting with the woman who had taken my order, she joked about a grammatical error she'd made in our transaction.  I quipped, "If our Mamas knew how we'd turned out...!" She laughed, and said, "Mine knows."  I said, "Mine forgets."  She smiled and said, "My mother died of Alzheimer's disease a few years ago.  I was hard, but sometimes she said the most amazing, funny things!  You have to really enjoy those moments, you know?"  "We do.  We laugh a lot right now."

I drove away with a smile on my face and tears on my cheeks.  Isn't it amazing how, in one moment, you can connect all the way to the bottom of your soul with a total stranger?

When I was a child, my Grandma had a window covered by glass shelves.  The shelves were full of African violets of all colors, and they seemed to be always blooming.  When she died, my Mom took some, and I know I had a couple of them.  It seemed we could not make them bloom the way she did.  Actually, it came to feel as if it were she who was still making them bloom.  The last time I remember seeing one of them bloom was the day I brought Citygirl home from the hospital, tiny and new:  The first granddaughter of my grandmother's only daughter. 

I don't remember when the last of violets died of the neglect busy young mothers are guilty of.  But  I have proudly kept  a Christmas cactus alive since last year, and this past week it celebrated Babygirl's return from the hospital by putting forth one lavish bloom.

Like random connections to the hearts of strangers, God sends us re-connections to the hearts of loved ones who have left and wait for us elsewhere, signs in the trees and flowers that we are never alone, and I am grateful.

DeeDee

Hill and Vale....

Ups and downs.  We all have 'em. 

Babygirl was headache-free Wednesday evening to Monday night.  Tuesday she awoke with a killer headache, and we got to try the new medication, Migranal.

Migraine medication packaging is designed by Satan himself, I swear.  I can see Lucifer at Big Pharma drug development sessions saying, "Yes, yes, it works for the migraine, that's WONDERFUL.  Now make it impossible to open."  It's like dealing with a mirage in a desert, hope glimmering on the horizon.....

But I digress.  After reading the two pages of fine-print instructions and squinting at the teeny-tiny pictorials, Babygirl and I assembled the nasal inhaler to administer her medication (copayment cost per dose: $6.25).  I wish I'd had a camera to record her initial response to the sensation of a nasal spray.  After taking three doses 15 minutes apart, she had some partial relief and went to bed.  By the end of the day she was able to work with a tutor, and she went back to school on Wednesday. 

The headache was back yesterday, she managed the treatment on her own, and when I saw her last night she said the headache was a '1/10'.  We prefer zeros here but compared to the last six weeks of 5-10/10 headaches on an almost daily basis I'll take it for now. 

It's an improvement.  But being able to proudly say that my kid is down to only missing HALF of school is not exactly the dream goal I was hoping to achieve.  I'll see what she wakes up with and report the final stats to neurology today.  I'm sure I won't hear anything about a plan adjustment until next week, but...

Meanwhile I'm grateful for fewer headaches.  And for a treatment that works. 

DeeDee

Of the Day and of the Night....

Night is already noticeably longer here now.  Since this week has been a struggle to catch up with everything that fell behind while Babygirl was in the hospital, I'm going to the gym in the dark and leaving my office in the dark, making my days feel somewhat as if they have only nights. 

The week Babygirl was in the hospital was spent in the lowest light level possible. The only discernable difference between day and night was whether or not I needed my flashlight to read (yeah, I brought I flashlight.  It was the most brilliant bit of packing EVER).

Earlier this week, though, there was a golden hour of pure daylight.  Citygirl, Curlygirl and I had wine. Mom and Babygirl were hanging out.  Conversation was lively, flashing from serious to silly, interspersed with Elderly Inappropriate ("No! Gramma! Don't talk about the episiotomies again! NOOO!!) (Citygirl is fairly sure she is never going to give birth to a child, by the way.  Thanks, Mom.)

I don't know if the sun was actually shining; in fact, I rather doubt it was, but my memory of the laughter is bright indeed.  The gift of three of my girls in one place at the same time is a great one.  The blessing of Babygirl's full, open, joyfully pain-free face is beyond price.

Night and day seem to have little to do with sun cycles for me.  When the night of Pain descends on your child, the bluest skies can become invisible to the heart.  And when the Pain lifts, no amount of bad weather can hide the Daylight, and I'm grateful.

DeeDee

For the Beauty of Each Hour.....

Tempus Fugit.

How many times do you look up at the clock and wonder what happened to the time?  How on earth is it lunchtime when you just had breakfast?  When was the last time you opened your eyes and looked, really LOOKED, out of a window?  How much of the beauty of each season passes unnoted and unremarked in front of your windshield?  How many smiling faces do you pass without really seeing them?  When was the last time you felt the softness of a blanket against your face, or the hand of your love brush your hair in the dark?

When was the last time you focused entirely on the moment you were in?

Each moment has its own loveliness.  Each caress, its element of holiness.  Each childish hug, a touch of eternal beauty.  Each and every joyful thanksgiving over a meal, holy communion. 

Pay attention!  See the beauty of each hour, and be thankful.

DeeDee

Over and Around Us Lies.....

What surrounds you?  Take a moment. Look around, right now.  Where are you?  If you are at home, are you safe?  Warm?  Cozy?  Surrounded by things and people you love?  If at work, is it meaningful, honest, good work?  Are your coworkers the kind of people who can make you laugh, make you cry, make you crazy, and make you glad to come back and do it all again tomorrow? 

If you are someplace surrounded by the things that bring you a sense of love, safety and purpose, stop and say, "Thank you."

DeeDee