How is this for a retreat: Pay $50 for a couple to attend and then discover a $100 dollar bill in one of your notebooks.  I am not making this up.  I had never heard of these retreats when the mailing came.  It was pretty much too good to be true.  When I got the letter, I did not know about the $100 bill that would be in the notebook I received that first evening, but the rest of what was described in the letter was already too good to be true.  It actually was true, it was as good as it was too good to be — even better!

The location for the retreat was Big Cedar Lodge owned by the Bass Pro Shops.  It is located on Table Rock Lake, south of Branson, Missouri.  It is advertised as a Luxurious vacation spot.  They are not lying!   Remember the $50 registration fee?  The retreat was five nights and six days long, April 7-12, 2002.  When we finally drove in, we couldn’t believe our eyes.  Rolling hills spread out in front of us for hundreds of acres at the edge of the lake where all sorts of rustic buildings surrounded by gardens nestled among the trees and carefully arranged landscaping greeted us.  We registered and got our keys.  It took us a long time to find our room — ROOM? – it was a free standing cabin.  Inside was a large living area (with a large fire place), dining area (a large basket of fruit and packaged foods greeted us), full kitchen, king-sized bed, a bath area the size of the living room in our current townhome (of course with a huge jacuzzi tube).  The cabin had a deck area with chairs and a gas grill for outdoor cooking (not that we would have to do any).  The little card on the back of the door listed the room rate as $350 per night.  Clearly, there had been a much better rate negotiated.   

The retreats are called Grace Place Retreats.  They were begun by Dr. John Eckrich (M.D.).  He had been treating Lutheran Professional Church Workers in his practice for many years.  It struck him how stressed so many were.  He had a concern for the health of the church and realized that healthy church workers would be important for the church to remain healthy.  He decided to do something about it.  When the Lutheran Deaconness Hospital was sold some years before that, the proceeds became a benevolent fund that could be approached with grant proposals.  The front of the brochure we received in 2002 describes the Grace Place Retreats as: “A Retreat and Lifestyle Program Offering Integrated Health Skills to Lutheran Pastors and Spouses.”  It has expanded since then to all flavors of church workers.  Almost all of the costs of the retreat were underwritten by the Grant and donations to the Grace Place Program.

Then there was the food!  Big Cedar had five restaurants.  Our meals were catered in the area where our sessions were held.  There was not an ordinary meal to be eaten.  We were never disappointed, always impressed with the quality of the fare.  When we opened our notebooks and discovered the $100 bill, we were instructed to use it while we were there to treat ourselves.  Who are we not to follow instructions?  Mary Ann got a spa treatment of some sort and I got a massage.  Mary Ann was using a wheelchair at the time, and was always accommodated by the staff and the other participants on the retreat.  It was a good experience for her. 

Each morning there was a prayer, meditation, exercise time before the sessions started.  It was called Lutherans in Movement and Meditation.  After breakfast we always practiced Lectio Divina as a group.  That discipline involves reading the same Scripture passage two or three times listening differently each time with silence afterward to let the message settle in and take hold.  One of the days we held a juice fast, followed by breaking the fast with a light meal of bread and fruit.  Evenings included Faith Exploration activities.   One evening we went to a local church for Evening Prayer. 

Sessions focused on a variety of topics aimed at promoting good physical and mental health.  Some were on dealing with stress, looking at our various roles in life.  There was a very pointed session that addressed our marital health and habits.  The four themes addressed were: the priority of marriage, the permanence of marriage, the oneness of marriage, and the openness of marriage.  We were paired with another couple for the retreat so that we could have small group discussions on the various topics.  There was one afternoon that we were to take a sheet of instructions and spend the entire time in silent meditation.  That was the day of the juice fast.  One of the sessions had a leader from our national church body who talked about money management and planning for the future. 

One evening included heading into Branson to see the Jim Stafford show.  We both enjoyed the show (to our surprise).  One afternoon we had a tour of Dogwood Canyon.  It is a sort of private wildlife preserve that was very impressive.  We rode a wagon along a creek filled with visible trout (it was crystal clear) and through an area where buffalo and elk were out in the open.  In a sense, they were the observers and we were the mammals inside a protected area (the wagon).  Some of them came over very close to check us out.  They were huge!   On the afternoon for recreational activities, a few of us rented a pontoon boat and toured the lake on our own. 

Then there was the last evening’s reception and banquet.  We were treated like royalty to a multi-course meal in a banquet room that had the look of an Elizabethan castle banquet room.  There were gourmet appetizers, a lavish meal, each course accompanied by the appropriate libations. 

Dr. John accomplished the goal of giving us a refreshing moment of being affirmed and appreciated for who we were and what we were doing.  We felt valued.  The sessions brought attention to our self-care, physically and spiritually, and sent us away with tools for incorporating better habits into our patterns of living.  Mary Ann and I certainly gained from it.  Our life together was challenging with the Parkinson’s taking its toll on us.  That week lifted our spirits and brought a wonderful respite from the press of daily struggles.  I am very grateful to Dr. John and the Grace Place Retreats for caring enough to commit time an energy and resources to such a nurturing ministry.  It has provided a memory worth keeping.   

 If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

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We were shocked when even his Assistant knew what we were talking about when we described the symptoms of Mary Ann’s version of Parkinson’s.  KU Med Center was an hour away, but Dr. Koller had a monthly clinic at hospital right here, only ten or fifteen minutes away.   We could hardly believe it. 

Mary Ann’s symptoms had worsened as the medication regimen set up in the hospital in Tulsa before we moved to Kansas simply could not handle them.  In the very first appointment with the KU Med Parkinson’s Department Neurologist, Dr. Koller, he assessed her situation and added a medicine called Permax.  Permax is dopamine agonist. It works by stimulating dopamine receptors in the brain.  It makes the basic medicine, Sinamet, more effective. 

Within one month, the time it took to titrate the Permax to its therapeutic dose, Mary Ann’s symptoms were reduced to being barely noticeable.  That level of functionality remained for almost four years.  It was as close to a miracle as we have experienced. 

In addition, a group of ladies in the congregation welcomed Mary Ann and took a special interest in her welfare.  She developed friendships that ultimately grew beyond the fact that she was the wife of the Pastor.  Connie, wife of Pastor John who had retired from that congregation was also someone who chose not to be defined simply by the role.  She had set a good pattern for Mary Ann to follow. 

I found much comfort in seeing Mary Ann develop those friendships and experience new relationships.  She became much less intensely private and finally admitted that it was true when I told her “they like you better than me.”  She had always in the past contended that the church folks were only connected to her through my ministry.   That had changed with the folks at the congregation I was serving here in Kansas.  Also she realized that she had friends from former congregations who remained friends with her long after we had left those parishes.  They were truly her friends.  In spite of the Parkinson’s, the dozen or so years here before I retired seemed to be some of the best for her in some ways.   

We had found a townhome in a shared maintenance subdivision that was the right size (less than half the size of our home in OKC) with everything on one floor.   It had come on the market the day before.  We got in the first offer at full list price.  The realtor realized that we were very fortunate to get into a maintenance free area at that price.  It turned out to be a very wise choice.

Since Mary Ann could no longer work, eventually there was a small amount of disability income that she was awarded.  It helped us alter the interior of the home so that it was more user-friendly for Mary Ann.  Friends enlarged doorways for us.  A contractor who was a member of the congregation built a roll-in shower and extended the bathroom a bit to allow it to accommodate a wheelchair comfortably in anticipation of that need arising.

We replaced the carpet with one that did not resist her feet moving when they shuffled.  It was a firm enough weave to allow a wheelchair or walker to move easily.  Parishioners did the labor on finishing the downstairs so that live-in help could stay there if that was needed.  There were aesthetically pleasing grab bars that look like and can be used as towel racks placed strategically in the bathrooms, along with tall stools. 

We found a couple of portable electronic doorbell systems that we put together so that there were four buttons spread throughout the places where Mary Ann spent her time.  She could buzz me whenever she needed help.  All the various tools provided an environment that was comfortable and welcoming.  We made a very functional living environment for ourselves — with the help of a lot of parishioners.  We are in debt to all of them for what they have done to help us and care for us. 

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

It was called Roman Nose State Park, named after an Indian Chief who had a Roman nose. I didn’t make that up.  Below you will find a bio on Henry Roman Nose.

I call it a rescue.  That is probably a little dramatic, but there is some truth in it.  Just days after I arrived in OKC to begin serving the parish in a suburb, the funerals started.  A number of the leading members of the congregation during my first few weeks there died.  The intense Pastoral care began.  That congregation taught me about Christian community, actually caring for others.  I did funerals for older adults, teen agers, babies, some via natural causes, some accidents, some violent deaths.  I still cherish a Pastoral stole given to me by a family who lost little Hillary just before she was due.

Doing Pastoral Care demands being on call 24/7 year round.  It was the most taxing and the most satisfying of the ministries in my portfolio.  One year there were a cluster of four funerals and a wedding in the span of two weeks including Christmas and New Year’s Day (the Groom chose that day so that he could remember their anniversary).  Without the addition of those Pastoral Care tasks, the Christmas season stretches most Pastors right up to the limit of their strength and stamina.

The combination of work demands and concern for what Mary Ann had to deal with took a toll.  Here is where Roman Nose comes into the picture.  One October, a Pastors’ Conference was approaching.  In the Oklahoma District the clergy were generally a pretty relaxed and congenial crew.  There would be time to relax and enjoy the Park, Roman Nose State Park.  The need for Pastoral Care intervened as a family lost a Loved One.  My hope was always to provide a healing presence to the degree possible.

Realizing that I would miss the break at the conference, I called to see if I could still get the group rate and just go on a Personal Retreat during the two days following the Conference.  The congregation Leadership fully supported that option.  I spent two days walking and reading and sitting and climbing and sitting and walking and reading all over the hills and valleys and bluffs of Roman Nose State Park.  I climbed over fences and through tangled brush in gullies.  I checked out the “healing tree” inside a protective fenced area, a place sacred to the Cheyenne who had lived there.

The place was a place of healing for me.  I can still picture the view as I sat at the very top of one of the taller hills, overlooking two small lakes.  A powerful Oklahoma wind was blowing in my face.  The sun was bright, the sky was crystal clear, the air crisp and fresh.  I felt what I would come to feel many times thereafter as I continued to go on Personal Retreats, relishing the solitude.  I felt whole, an intentional creation of a Someone who was providing me at that moment with the breath of life.  There was no distance between me and that Someone.

I had found great strength in Spiritual Formation activities during the years in the Kansas City area.  The Rescue at Roman Nose opened a new chapter in that Spiritual Formation.

Then came an experience that drew John and I together, finding strength in a regular time of Spiritual partnering and prayer as he ministered to his wife Sherrie through the last leg of her journey here.  I talked about Mary Ann and my journey and he talked about his and Sherrie’s.  The strength and courage of Sherrie became a source of strength for an entire congregation.  When I visited her, there would be a circle of three or four, maybe six or eight people in their living room.  She gave infinitely more than she received from all of us who gathered.  My ministry was profoundly impacted by Sherrie and John.

I can’t remember how I found out about it, but I am grateful that I did.  When we began taking Youth on Confirmation Retreats, DCE John and I took them a place called St. Francis of the Woods.  I have described it in great detail in earlier posts.  It has become a place of respite and Spiritual Renewal for me.  When I first went on a Personal Retreat there, the suggested contribution for a day and night’s stay in a two bedroom fully furnished cabin was $6.  There would be a loaf of home made bread waiting each time I arrived for a retreat.

Most of the times I went, I stayed two nights and walked for part of one day, a full day and part of a third day.  I read and walked and sat and did all the things I had done at Roman Nose.  The Orthodox Chapel, the woods and fields, 500 acres of working farm provided a rich environment for Spiritual Renewal.  Each time went I encountered that same healing recognition of being the intentional creation of Someone who chooses that I exist.

During my last two years in ministry in the OKC area, I attended two Spiritual Formation Groups (one each year) that followed the Shalem format.  The series was led by a local Pastor and Counselor who had been trained in the approach.  It involved a time of silent meditation, a time of journaling, and time for each person to share as they felt appropriate.

The Oklahoma years were an important time in providing a lab for learning to do Pastoral Care in a meaningful way, and providing a pattern of Spiritual Formation that provided the resources necessary to deal with the Bombing and Lee’s death as well as all that life had yet in store for Mary Ann and me.

Addendum:

Chief Roman Nose lived in this rugged canyon from 1887 until he died there in 1917. He was born in 1856 and given the name Woquini meaning “Hook Nose”. He grew to manhood within a hostile environment involving many Cheyenne raiding parties. In 1875 all warring Cheyennes returned to the agency at Darlington. Here he was arrested and sent to Ft. Marion in St. Augustine, Florida where he learned to speak, read and write the English language. He was then moved to an Institute in Virginia. Here he accepted the Christian faith and was baptized Henry Caruthers Roman Nose. His name Henry came from Richard Henry Pratt, the commander of the fort in St. Augustine. His name Caruthers came from Mrs. Horace Caruthers, his devoted teacher and friend in Florida. He learned tinsmith at a boarding school in Pennsylvania before returning to his homeland in 1881. Roman Nose discovered much had changed during the six years he had been away. Traditional Indian ways were almost nonexistent. White domination permeated all aspects of Indian life. Slowly he became disillusioned with what the whites offered. Roman Nose eventually spurned the white society. He left the agency and took his family to live in what is now Roman Nose State Park.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

I kept moving to be sure there was no confusion about my still being alive.  I did not want to be mistaken for road kill.  At first I saw them off in the distance sitting on the newly mown field next to me as I walked the path at Cedarcrest.  I thought they were regular wild turkeys.  Then I saw them take off.  They were Turkey Vultures.

On the wing, Turkey Vultures are elegant birds.  Their wingspan is almost that of an American Bald Eagle.  When the sun hits them a certain way, the feathers on their wings seem translucent.  They float effortlessly, wings in a V shape, circling and soaring. Once a couple of years ago, one came over me so closely that I could hear the swish of its wings.  As long as a person is far enough away that he/she cannot see the ugly heads, they appear beautiful.

It was very impressive to see so many in the air at the same time.  Later in the walk, a Green Heron landed on a nearly pier as I passed one of the large ponds there.  The morning walk continues to be helpful.  At the moment, I think I actually need it to help keep my healing on course.

Wednesday morning (today is Friday) had been a good one since the Spiritual Formation group continues to provide a rich environment for processing what has gone on or is now going on in our lives in a way that reveals God’s hand, loving and supporting us.   There was a lunch with a good friend including some great conversation, very refreshing.

The afternoon included the second day of exercising.  The muscles that were getting sore, were worked enough to help relieve the discomfort for the moment. Then I headed to the mall to try to get a gift for Granddaughter Ashlyn’s upcoming birthday. I ended up walking the circumference of the mall on both levels, probably adding up to almost as much distance as I do in the morning.  I decided to try to add a mall walk on the hot afternoons.

I ended up at a couple of other places to get the gift.  Even with all that activity, the pain of Mary Ann’s death emerged, staying with me the rest of the day.  Oddly, yesterday a neighbor who lost her husband a couple of years ago, called to see how I was doing and revealed that she had had a bad day on Wednesday also.  Must be something in the air.

Yesterday was some better.  The walk in the morning was followed by a visit from a member and his daughter.  Ed is helping with a bit a caulk repair in the bathroom. They were both fun to talk with.  Later in the day a former member had asked me to to help her process something, a role that feels comfortable for me after so many years in the ministry.  That also was an enjoyable time.

I went directly to the third different support group meeting this week.  While there is a little overlap, they are all different groups.  It is remarkable just how helpful it is to be in a setting in which there is complete understanding and the freedom to laugh or cry without hesitance.  Talking so freely there makes it easier not to talk about the loss with others who will soon tire of hearing about how much it hurts.

The groups also help temper the fears that the pain is still so strong and hasn’t let go yet. It is apparent that those who have experienced a death as recently as have I are struggling at least as much as am I.  Those for whom the death was a couple of years ago, still have access to the pain, but they are not disabled by it.  They are able to enjoy life again.  The groups provide a helpful perspective.

After spending some time with vultures this morning, I got some more organizing done at the house.  I decided to buy flowers in memory of Mary Ann and for myself. I did as I had done before when getting them for her.  I asked the folks at Flowers by Bill for ten dollars worth of colorful flowers.  I was given a large bouquet with varied colors, from pastels to deep, dark colors to bright and cheery colors.  That bouquet now adorns the dining room table.

There was another walk at the mall.  After that I went home and read a very small book called Good Grief by Granger Westberg.  Daughter Lisa had asked about it in a phone call.  She saw it on a Hospice list of recommended books.  That little book was very helpful since it nailed very many of the struggles I have been having and named them as stages in the process.  They are different from the stages of grief traditionally listed.  The book confirmed that feeling each stage fully is a way to get through the grief, incorporating it into the new person who is emerging.  Not everyone will, of course, grieve in exactly the same way, but what he described seems to be the most common experience.

The evening ended with a very enjoyable dinner out with former parishioners.  We came back to the house and talked for a while about a variety of things.  I felt almost healthy again.

A couple of days ago, as I was making one of the rounds in the mall, something very obvious found its way into my awareness.  While Mary Ann has died, I have not.  It doesn’t seem fair that I should be alive and she is not.  Fair or not, it is so.  I am actually alive.  I do not need to feel guilty about that or apologize for it.  I am free to go on with life.  Recognizing that does not make it easy, just possible.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

This morning’s walk was dangerous!  I don’t know what I did.  I have gone around those bushes many times, once on my first pass.  This happened on the second pass.  The chirps did no damage, but the little winged attackers came mighty close.  I think they were tree swallows.  Otherwise the walk was again a pleasant way to become energized for the day.  One of my favorite sights is a field of round bales of grass/hay.  The field at Cedarcrest is in the process of being cut, rows of cut grass formed by a tetter, and a baler rolling the grass into the huge round bales, each apparently weighing around 2000 pounds. 

Today was furnace day.  I am now the proud owner of a 95.5% efficient furnace.  They should pay me to use it.  The installation demanded having the AC off all day.  The heat index was probably pushing 110 degrees.   I was happy to have reason to be out of the house a couple of times during the day.

This was the first actual exercise day.  There are parts of my body that I clearly have not used very much, since I was unaware that they existed.  I wonder what I will feel like tomorrow.  I feel very good about walking and working out as grief therapy.  I felt good after completing both today. 

I went to another support group this afternoon.  There must have been fifteen or sixteen people by the time all had arrived.  The Leader had told me that there would be ten or twelve when I called.  I think she was surprised too.  This group had many first timers who had lost a loved one just weeks before, mostly Spouses, two had lost their Mothers. 

There were lots of tears as well as some laughter.  Of course the most beneficial element is the freedom to speak openly and freely to people who understand without explanation the nature of the pain.  Some there had lost a spouse two or more years before.  They had lots to share about what was helpful to them in the healing process.  They were reassuring that survival is possible, that the pain does become much more manageable with time. 

I don’t suppose there was anything I heard that I didn’ t already know intellectually.  In years past I have told people who were grieving those same things.  It was helpful for me to hear them again from the mouths of others, now that my attention has been captured fully.  The people there confirmed the value of some of the choices I have made, writing, exercising, getting to support groups.  They helped me try to get some perspective an uncomfortable experience in the recent past. 

When I returned home, I always check the front door on the outside chance someone has sent something.  There was a box with a soft sided cooler in it, containing fifteen or twenty different packages of Mrs. Field’s snack-sized cookies and brownies.  Wow!!  What a treat!  The note was signed simply, “COME SEE US.”  It is from some wonderful, caring friends from KC who now live in a beautiful spot on a picturesque inlet of a large lake in Oklahoma.  I will do as they ask. 

Tonight some of the tasty food from the freezer (brought by former parishioners and neighbors around the time of Mary Ann’s death (I have to keep saying that until I get used to it) was added to lots of veggies, sweet corn, zucchini, onions, tomatoes, bread from the Farmer’s Market.  Were it not for the quantities that I consume, I would be pretty healthy, slim and trim.  Well, there was the dish of ice cream with some of the snack cookies. 

I just returned from a spontaneous trip to look at the most remarkable show in the evening sky.  I walked outside to look at the legs of a huge rainbow melting into a reddish cloudy center.  Opposite that rainbow, which was resting against a deep, dark grey background, was a bright red and turquoise sky separated horizontally (bright turquoise on the bottom and equally bright red on the top) by a bank of cloud, smooth and dark.  To the right of that was a jumbled puffy strip of dark clouds hanging just above the horizon.  Some of what I am describing I saw while standing in the street in front of my house.  As I stood in the street, there was some bright cloud to cloud lightning followed in a fraction of a second  by an ear-splitting crash of thunder that sent me back to the house.  It seemed far too close for comfort.  Then I realized I was free to hop in the car and go to my favorite spot to look at the sky with an unobstructed view.  Some of what I described above is what I saw from that hilltop.  I debated about even trying to describe what I saw.  If someone were to paint the scene, critics would probably say it was a contrived mix of elements that could not be so at the same time in the same sky.  I am not a skilled enough writer to describe it with the elegance and clarity it deserves, but it was too remarkable not at least to make an attempt.

I think I will stop with one post tonight.  I still hope to make the new blog domain name simple and accessible enough to begin separating out these posts from the continuing story of Mary Ann’s and my marriage.  These posts are intended to describe the beginning of my attempt to build a new life.  The continuing story of our marriage is the therapeutic reclamation of a history of a full and meaningful life with someone I love deeply.  The love has not died.  It is still as strong as ever.  That and the memories, I get to keep.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

I neglected to tell you in the last post about the activities that helped me turn the corner from the down swing.  I had to clean out more of the storage area in the basement to prepared for getting the new furnace on Tuesday.  Physical labor and progress in cleaning certainly are attitude changers.

A trip to PT’s where I was greeted warmly by a few of the folks there didn’t hurt. A good cup of coffee from there is always helpful.

Then most importantly, I spent some time first reading an article from the latest issue of Weavings, the Spirituality Journal that I find very nurturing.  There was some comfort to be found in the reminder that the Lord’s presence and His love is as close as our next breath (a favorite theme of mine too).

Following that, I started a thought provoking writing by Thomas Merton.  It is in a book of his writings that is titled Love and Living.  His writing is often intense and concentrated — as in frozen orange juice concentrate.  There is more there than the number of words on the page would suggest.  The message is always strong and meaningful and worth adding time to ponder.  It gets tastier as the time and pondering dilute the concentrate.

Not so grumpy tonight.

It popped into my mind and it just seemed right.  There is some technical work to do to get it to this blog account, but the new blog name will be “thecalltolive.com.”  Do not try to click on it yet.  I realized that yesterday and today, I felt alive again.  I may not feel that way tomorrow, but it is the call to live, not yet a done deal.

Living is a choice.  I am choosing life.  I am not going to wait for it to just happen by itself.  The good news is that it has actually happened.  That was God’s choice.  My choice is to trust his choice and live it to the full.

I suspect the last two paragraphs reveal that the signs are pointing toward healing.  I am not so naive as to think that because I felt good today, tomorrow or the next day or the one after that will feel good too.  The pain of a loss like this will remain with me until the day I die and get to see her again.  It will come at unexpected times.  It will always be accessible.  My hope is that the pain will ultimately help increase the depth, the strength and the resilience of the life that lives in me. The life that lives in me is no more or less alive than the life that lives in you.  Somehow, when I say it that way, it sounds dumb, silly.  Nonetheless it is so.  Each of us is as full of life as the next.  It looks, feels, tastes, smells different, but the source and the power are the same.  What we do with it is a matter of choice.

Now, to the day.  I got up late, but managed to walk the two miles at Cedarcrest before it got unbearably hot.  That came a little later in the day.  Tomorrow will be worse (110 heat index).

After showering, changing the bed, throwing in a load of wash, I responded to phone messages, emails, and got busy on the list.  The list is insidious.  For every one thing I check off, three more mysteriously appear.  A couple of lunches and an evening activity are in the works.

I did it!  I have now paid for it, so I can’t get out of it.  The first session will measure my body fat.  Who the heck needs to measure it.  It is right out there for everyone to see!  I am now committed to eleven sessions (two per week) of exercise with a trainer.  What have I done??????  I even bought a pair of running shorts (there will be no running) for the walking and exercising.  What kind of fool am I?  (Is that a song?)

I ran into a young person I know at the coffee shop whose husband died suddenly a few years ago.  We took the time to counsel one another.  I think it was helpful for both of us.

After that the last ten days mail was delivered.  No bills!!! That was a treat.  There was a huge stack of cards from folks who have just found out about Mary Ann’s death (still hard to write — always will be, I suspect).  I continue to be overwhelmed by the number of people who care about us.  The words of comfort, the thoughts and prayers of so many have buoyed us up over the years.  Many of those responding have sent lengthy notes recalling past experiences when we were together.

It continues to be an odd sensation to be on the other side of this ministry business.  So many have had helpful bits of wisdom to share from their experience.  I am humbled by their insights — and I thought I was the one with the fitting words to say.

I am going to continue the story of Mary Ann’s and my life together.  It has been very therapeutic to move through those years we shared.  The Mary Ann I have known and loved is coming back into full view.  It helps to spend that time together again, if only in words and memories.  What I am writing is intended to focus mostly on Mary Ann and our time together.  To make sense of it I am including the Cliff Notes version of my ministry.

Ironically, the church controversy that I have been mentioning as a tease of things to come, is not over in our national church body.  Elections at the National Convention this week are stirring the pot.  That is for someone else’s blog, not mine.

As I am continuing our story in thecaregivercalling.com, as soon as it is ready, I will also write posts like tonight’s in thecalltolive.com.  Don’t click on the new one yet!

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.