A Personal Narrative about Decisions That Impact Others

On a beautiful Sunday morning thirty-three years ago today, on November 7, 1982, after months spent studying my Bible, I entered a small Baptist church in North Ogden, Utah.  For sixteen years prior to this date, I attended and was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

 I was a convert to the LDS (Mormon) Church at the age of twenty-one.  My former husband, a return missionary for this church, baptized me on the same day we became engaged.  We married a few months later and were "sealed" in the Salt Lake City Temple for "time and all eternity" a year after that.  For the next sixteen years, I was a loyal and faithful member of the LDS Church.

On November 7, 1982, I had been separated from my husband a number of months.  I had turned to my Bible as a source of comfort and wisdom as I was seeking ways to deal with the break-up of my marriage.  Along the way, my heart and mind began to be transformed as I began to see many things in new light.  I told no one I was reading the Bible.  I didn't want to be influenced by anyone in any church or religion until I felt like I had a more firm foundation regarding my own personal beliefs about God and His Word.

As I read and studied and prayed for direction and answers, several other factors which I will not go into today led me to decide I needed to attend a Bible believing church where the Word of God as found only in the Bible was preached.  I contacted a Christian couple I knew of, the Goldrings, and asked them if they could direct me to a church where I could study the Bible more completely.  They sent me Valley View Baptist Church in North Ogden.

Over past few years, I had watched the pastor personally build Valley View from the ground up.   He had lived in an old house located on the same plot of ground where he was building the church.   Weekly Sunday services were held in this house as he worked on a new building for the growing congregation.  Some Saturdays, or week nights, I would see members of this church with hammers, saws, and ladders working on the construction of this building.  I admired their hard-work, determination, fellowship, and faithfulness from afar.

On that day when I finally walked through the doors of the now completed church building which housed Valley View Baptist, I had actually gotten up and dressed in my children and myself in our Sunday best and headed to the LDS Church located just up the street from our home.  Then, after fighting a mental battle in my head which kept saying, "You know you just can't continue to go to a church in which you no longer believe.  Why are you doing so?"  In reality, I could no longer remain status quo.  I knew that my decision to attend another church, even for one Sunday, which is really all I intended to do, would impact my children.  As I recall, only the younger three children were with me on that day.

As I drove the car along the familiar path towards the church I attended each week, I finally made my decision.  Instead of turning right, or to the north,  at the corner by our house, I kept driving east and headed the mile or so down the road to the Baptist Church.  I entered the sanctuary a tad bit late.  The services had already begun.  I was grateful I would not have to meet anyone.  With the Bible my father had recently sent me clutched tightly in my hand, I slipped into the back row of the church as the congregants began to sing some of the old hymns I had missed for so many years.

On that Sunday, Pastor BJ Hall preached on Luke 18: 8- 30.  I turned to the passage and began to read as he preached.  Was this sermon meant just for me?  I read and listened to the story about the rich young ruler who asked Jesus, "Good Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?"  Jesus immediately pointed out to the rich young ruler that "none is good, save one, that is, God."  Then Jesus reminded this man that he knew the commandments and spoke to him seven of ten commandments.  The man said, "All these I have kept from my youth."  Jesus replied with the words that he lacked one thing:  selling all and following Him.

I knew this story, but on that day it had new meaning to me.  Had I been resting on being good?  Had I actually believed that my "goodness" would somehow grant me eternal life?  Did I believe that by doing all that was prescribed for me to do by a religion I had joined I would be granted points with God?  Did I believe that if God asked me what I had done so that He might grant me access to Him after my death I could say, "Well, I've been good.  I haven't broken those seven commandments."  I was convicted about how shallow my arguments would be before a Holy God after I had just read that Jesus had already said there were none good save God.

An internal battle was being waged.  I knew the truth.  I knew I had chosen to follow Jesus when I was twelve years old.  Along the way, I had been sidetracked when I chose to trust in practicing religion instead of trusting and following Christ alone.  I had been hanging on to or trying to practice self righteousness.  I did not want to admit how far I had gotten away from trusting in grace through faith alone.  I knew it would be difficult to publicly affirm my true beliefs.  I knew my life would be forever changed when I did such a thing.

Luke 18: 29-30 convicted me all the more.  "Verily, I say unto you, There is no man that hath left house, or parents, or brethren, or wife, or children, for the kingdom of God's sake, who shall not receive in this present time, and in the world to come life everlasting."

At the end of the sermon, Pastor Hall issued an altar call for those to come forward who wished to receive the Lord.  My internal battle intensified.  I could not remain in that back row of the church any longer.  I moved towards the aisle and began to make my way towards the front where the pastor was standing.  With my body shaking, but with head and heart firm in conviction, I told him I was already a follower of Christ.  I wished to publicly declare that I was rededicating my life to Jesus and renouncing my affiliation with the LDS Church.

Sunday, November 7, 1982, was my personal Reformation Sunday.  I returned to my true beliefs that Sunday,  and in many ways followed the pathway of the Protestant Reformers before me.  The "five solas" were again embraced by me:

• Sola Scriptura - Scripture Alone
• Sola Gratia - Grace Alone
• Sola Fide - Faith Alone
• Solus Christus - Christ Alone
• Soli Deo Gloria - To God Alone Be Glory

On that day, as the service was ending, after the congregation had sung their signature hymn, the one I will always associate with Valley View Baptist Church, "Victory in Jesus," Pastor Hall  prayed for me and asked the congregation to pray for me.  He said, that as soon as I left the church that day, that the "great guns of hell" would be aimed at me and that I would need much prayer and support.

He was right.  That is another story for another day.  Now, I want to turn my attention to the ones who really suffered because of my decision: my children.

Suffer little children...

Thirty-three years ago, when I made a decision in North Ogden, Utah, to leave the religion I had been a part of for sixteen years, and reaffirm my true religious beliefs, I was thirty-seven years old and the mother of five children ages fifteen, twelve, eight, six, and four.  I had been raising the children alone without a job, an education, and with very little financial support from their father.  He had left the family home many months before.  I had hoped to save the marriage.  That is why I started reading the Bible.  I was looking for answers on forgiveness and reconciliation.  

As a family, we all were as deeply submerged in the cultural assimilation of the LDS Church lifestyle as any Mormon family in Utah could be.  We also were going through great turmoil as a family.  The head of the household had left.  I was struggling financially and emotionally from the toil of raising a large family with few resources and little support.  I also had been a victim of domestic violence.  This is a part of our family story which is difficult to relate, but it is a truth that we all had endured because of the abuse that had been suffered and witnessed.  Deep in my heart of hearts, I believed, and still believe, that people can change, and do change, because of forgiveness and grace.  I believe  reconciliation is a powerful outcome that occurs when grace, truth, and forgiveness come together.  It remains the prayer of my heart for my entire family.

When my own life turned directions, when I began a new path, I did so out of faith in the God I had known since my earliest days.  I had great hope for my future and future of my family.  I also was a realist.  I knew that my actions could, and most likely would, have great ramifications that might not prove to be beneficial to all concerned.  

Keicha's Memory of Events in 1982

A great divide opened up in my family on that day thirty-three years ago.  Today, my oldest daughter and I discussed how my decision affected her.  She was twelve years old in 1982.  Her life was in chaos because the family which had always seemed so strong, secure, and supportive had come apart at the seams.  Her father was gone and her mother had gone off and done some crazy thing like leaving the Mormon Church.  As she said, "I didn't have a dog in the fight," but she and my other children were caught in the middle of some huge battle being wage around them.

At a time when all she wanted was to feel like she belonged somewhere, her life had been upended first by her father's actions, and now by her mother's actions.   She began to cling to the one thing that had always been there for her and had not changed:  the LDS Church.

The actions of her mother and of her father had nothing to do with her, yet suddenly, through no action of her own, for reasons she didn't even understand, she felt different, ostracized, singled out by her peers, and by some adults in her life.  She was asked why her mother was doing what she was doing.  She was asked if she would remain faithful despite what her mother had done.  She acted out at home towards me and towards her younger siblings who accompanied me to the Baptist Church.  

She said she had loving and supportive people who reached out to her, but she said she always felt that by doing so they were also asking her to take sides in a battle she didn't understand, one of which she did not even wish to participate.  She just wanted her life back as it had always been.  She felt that she had to choose between her loyalty and love for a parent and her loyalty to an institution.  In the end, she said, "They drove me away."  She does not blame me for the position in which she had been placed.  Thankfully, we have had many years to work through the damage done to our relationship between 1982 and 1983.  

She is passionate about how parental decisions about lifestyle and religious choices impact children.  She understands first hand how such decisions can impact in a negative way the children trapped in the middle.  She understands how alone such children can feel.  She understands what it feels like to be labeled "different" by peers, adults, a church, because of the actions of parents.  I admire her passion and her compassion.  I admire how she uses her own voice, one that she gained from many heartbreaks, to speak out for those who might not have a voice, or whose voices are being silenced.

A Memory I Have of Julie During This Time

During this time of family upheaval, Julie, at age six, embraced all that was taught about Jesus at Valley View Baptist.  She loved to sing, "Victory in Jesus."  She asked for a cross necklace for Christmas.  On the first day back to school after Christmas break, she proudly wore her new necklace to school.  She was in first grade.  Her teacher had bought the home in which we lived when Julie was born before we moved to North Ogden.  The teacher was well acquainted with the family and was well aware of the turmoil the family was experiencing.  When Julie returned home from school that day, she told me the following story.

The teacher had asked Julie in front of the entire class why she was wearing a cross to school.  Julie said, "Because I asked my mom for it for Christmas."  The teacher asked, "Does this mean you are no longer a Mormon?"  Julie said, "Yes, now I am a Christian.  Someday, I am going to walk the streets of gold."  The teacher then told her this was inappropriate to say in school and that she was not to wear the cross to school anymore.  Julie was devastated by the way she was treated by the teacher.  She didn't understand.  I verified her story with the teacher.  I expressed how inappropriate the teacher's questions and directives were towards my daughter.  

*******

This long narrative is a departure from my usual type of writing on my blog.  It is deeply personal.  It is my own story of my journey as believer.  I don't often write about my faith in this forum.  My oldest daughter and I have been talking about the events that led up to my departure from the LDS Mormon Church in the last few days.  We've talked about the effects that a decision I made in order follow my own deeply held religious convictions impacted her and her siblings.  There were details that she never knew or had forgotten.  There were wounds that she suffered that she needed to talk to me about.  

For many, many years, I have not written, nor have I publicly spoken about leaving the LDS Church. I stopped writing and speaking about this part of my life because of the impact it had on lives of my children.  I wished for them to struggle and search for their own understanding and beliefs when it came to religious beliefs.  

My children and I have many, many long debates and discussions about God, Jesus, the Bible, religion, and personal beliefs.  They were raised to think for themselves.  Just as I was raised, they also were raised to never participate group think.  I encouraged independent thought and exploration when it comes to establishing personal belief systems.  I also share openly and completely what my beliefs are.  Believe me, when we all get together, there are some pretty interesting debates that are waged between the siblings and between myself and my children.  I welcome, encourage, and embrace these debates because I firmly believe the words of John Milton: "Let her and Falshood grapple, who ever knew Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter?"  

Freedom of Choice, Freedom of Religion, and Freedom of Speech are freedoms for which I will always fight.  They are freedoms for which I hope my children will always fight in the ways that are aligned with their own convictions.  

A recent decision made by the LDS Church has caused great controversy in Utah.  Not living there, I was not even aware of the controversy until my daughter and I spoke yesterday.  Her heart is breaking for the children that are caught in the middle of the controversy.  My heart always breaks for children whose lives are negatively impacted by any decisions that the adults in their lives make.  

I am not going to personally engage in the public debate that is now swirling around in social media and in the press regarding recent decisions of the LDS Church.   My blog is a place where I express my beliefs.  It is not a place where I get involved in public debate.   This post was only written from a personal point of view regarding my own life and how decisions I made impacted my children in what appeared to be a negative way at the time.  Over time, I believe my children have come to deeply respect my choices because I made them based on my deepest held beliefs.  

They know I love them more than I love life itself.  They know I pray for them every single day.  They know I will use my voice to express what I believe.  They know I would never force my beliefs upon them because I trust in a great big Sovereign God for all matters of life and faith for those whom I love. They know that I believe in a God who never changes.  He never has changed.  He never will change.  Nothing catches Him by surprise.  He is the Beginning and the End.  I can trust Him for them.

The words of Jesus are often twisted and turned to support whatever beliefs many wish to be foisted on others.  I do not wish to do that.  If you read this entire piece of writing, I hope you will seek out Truth in an open and free way.  

I personally believe that Truth is only found in the Bible.  The truth of the Bible can only be understood by testing scripture against scripture as a complete and whole truth.  Parts and pieces can not be cut out and interpreted to explain some belief that does not line up with all of the other parts of the Bible.

I leave you with these words of Jesus that are found in Matthew 19:14:

Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me:

for of such is the kingdom of heaven. 

KJV

Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, 

for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.

ESV

Happy Birthday to My Husband

 Memories of those days long ago 

have become a bit blurred around the edges.

You,

the focal point of my life when I was sixteen,

and you were seventeen,

embodied

 all that my young girl's imagination

 desired in a young man

 to whom she could give her heart.

We were young,

but we had our dreams for the future.

You were so steady.

Always the good 

student, 

you were popular with your peers and your teachers.

You,

the student athlete,

thrilled my heart,

as I, sitting on the grass at Runyon field,

watched you play first base with such confidence and skill.

You, King of the Sock Hop,

a senior,

big man on campus,

brought me,

a sophomore girl, with absolutely no self-confidence,

to that dance where you reigned as king.

You were genuine.

A real gem.

I wasn't the only one who realized what a great guy you were.

All the other girls in the school voted you as king of the sock hop.

Those long ago days left me with such sweet memories:

prom,

movies,

drives in your car dragging Main,

City Park, where we would ride the merry-go-round,

picnics in Beulah, 

and your graduation from high school.

You told me the night you graduated what you would do with your life.

You said you would teach when you finished college.

You said you wanted me to marry you when we were done with college.

I was only sixteen.

You were seventeen.

I knew you would accomplish all you said you would accomplish.

You did.

You worked hard to pay your own way through college.

You taught German and English.

You became a high school counselor.

You became a high school principal.

You even married me.

That took a bit longer.

I never had the good sense to marry you until thirty years after that first proposal.

I carry many images of you in my head.

Yours is my favorite face to photograph.

In this one,

you are in your element.*

Presence,

that intangible aura of leadership,

is captured so well in this, 

one of my favorite photos of you.

This photo captured so much of you.

Your sparkly brown eyes framed by scholarly looking frames on your glasses,

are focused on the student to whom you are so intently listening.

That's you.

You are engaged and engaging.

The smile on your face reflects

your kind, fatherly heart,

and your sense of humor,

and of how much you love being with young people.

You are dressed in your black jacket South High School that you wore to all those football games.

The Colt emblem,

strategically placed over your heart,

speaks of your love for and devotion to the school where you served as principal.

You, the son of refugees, had donned this warm jacket for the ferry ride over the cold choppy waters to Ellis Island.

This place, a gateway for so many of the ancestors of your students,

was not the gateway for your family.

Your parents were refugees from Germany.

They escaped the Holocaust.

They had such dreams for you,

the son born on American soil,

the son born after your dear parents had taken such an arduous journey from Nazi Germany.

Your father wanted you to be a teacher,

"It is a noble profession," 

he said as he advised you during one of those treasured talks you would have with him on the front porch of your home during your youth.

He died during your first year of teaching.

He did not live to see you flourish in that noble profession.

I am the one able to see you come full circle from those days of 

hope,

dreams,

promise,

and

youth,

to this one moment in time 

when 

you

in your element,

fully engaged with the student toward whom

your head is slightly bent

give credence to the school motto which has become your legacy:

Do Right.

Be Kind.

***************

Tomorrow is your birthday.

When I look at your kind and loving face,

I know how blessed I am to have you in my life.

You, my dear husband,

have kept those traits that I recognized so many years ago.

Your faithfulness towards me is never in question.

Your love for me and your family has remained strong and supportive through so many storms of life.

You continue to make me smile and laugh at your great sense of humor.

You are so down to earth and loving.

You send me cute, loving little notes and emojis from you latest gadget, your Apple watch throughout the day.

You make me smile.

You bring joy to my heart.

So here we are in seventies.

How did we get here?

You never seem to age.

You continue to work at your new career at the Apple Store.

You come home from work full of enthusiasm and energy.

You are not one to retire.

When you are home, your favorite thing to do is to walk our dear Boston.

You love your boy.

Our lives are rich in love and companionship.

Your life has been a gift to me.

All those characteristics and traits that I hoped for in the man I hoped to marry someday when I was just a young girl

truly are embodied in you, 

my dear and cherished husband.

I love you beyond measure.

Happy birthday.

Credits: * I did not take the photograph of you on the ferry to Ellis Island.  It was captured by the mother of a student, the gifted writer and photographer Cathy Ames-Farmer.  

Thoughts on Blogging and Retirement.

In what seems a lifetime ago now, I taught high school English and English as a Second Language.  I loved teaching English.  I especially loved teaching English as a Second Language.  Towards the end of my career as a classroom teacher, an opportunity came along that allowed me to expand my professional experience by going to the local University to create a program to train teachers to become ESL teachers.  While this meant that I would have to leave the secondary classroom, a place where I dearly loved being, I changed the course of my professional life  and left the classroom. 

Sally teaching high school English
at Centennial High School
Pueblo, Colorado

At the Colorado State University-Pueblo, I wrote curriculum  and developed a program that would lead to an endorsement in Linguistically Diverse Education.  I loved the diversity of my new position.  I researched. I wrote. I recruited students. I taught classes.  I became a part of the larger community of others across the state who worked in the Linguistically Diverse Education field.  It was all a wonderful experience.  

Then, I retired.

I began this blog as a way to keep me writing as I began retirement.  I had no idea what direction the blog would go.  I even had a hard time naming my blog because at the time the only identity I could come up with was that of a retired English teacher. 

I had visions of using the blog as a place to record my thoughts as I launched into a new phase of my life.  I had established a consulting business and began to do a bit of professional development in the area of helping content area teachers teach English language learners.  That was my passion at the time.  Even in retirement, I did not think I would ever want to give up working with teachers who wanted to learn how to best serve their linguistically diverse students.  I hoped my blog would reflect my passion for my field of professional experience and expertise that I hoped to continue throughout my years of retirement.

A funny thing happened on my way to working after retirement.  After a few years of doing that, I didn't want to do it anymore.  I wanted to spend more time with family.  I didn't want commitments.  I wanted to read, to write, to garden, and I wanted to do all of that in my own way on my own time schedule.

My blog became a place where I wrote about random thoughts, memories, and experiences.  It had no focus.  That seemed to be just fine with me.

Now, having been retired nearly ten years, I have thought of renaming my blog.  I question how much my writing reflects the persona of  "retired English teacher."  I sometimes wonder if the title puts a lot of pressure on me when I write in a more public format.  After all, I really have to focus on my grammar, my punctuation, my sentence structure and all of that. Sometimes, I groan out loud when I see the mistakes I didn't catch before I published a post.   

When I began this blog, I had no idea how my world would expand as I began to read blogs and to make blogging friends.  Blogging opened up a new world that many of us never knew was out there before we started blogging.  I love reading the posts of my other blogging friends.  They keep me interested because they are all so  interesting.  

At times, I wax and wane as a blogger due to family demands, health issues, and other interests, but as I don't plan on abandoning blogging anytime soon.

Perhaps, blogging, as one form of writing, is important to me because of the reflective piece that goes with it.  As teachers, as learners, as writers, we find that we are most effective when we practice reflection.  I recently came across Peter Pappas' work on what he calls the Taxonomy of Reflection. 
His model really speaks to me as I think about blogging and retirement.

… to reflectively experience is to make connections within the details of the work of the problem, to see it through the lens of abstraction or theory, to generate one’s own questions about it, to take more active and conscious control over understanding. ~ "From Teaching With Your Mouth Shut" 

by Donald Finkel

 Certainly, retirement is an ongoing field of exploration for me.  One way that I make sense of my journey through retirement is by writing as a reflective practice. 

 
Most of my writing takes place in my journal, but I also appreciate that I can reflect upon, write about, and read about retirement though blogging.  This blog continues to serve as a place where I explore the public expression of my private writing.

I can't imagine my retirement life without blogging in it.  

Housekeeping - A Book Review

Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Reviewing this book is a difficult task. It is a book that many times I wished to toss aside because it is not an easy book to read. Having said that, I can't think of another book with more beautiful prose, nor can I think of an author other than Marilynne Robinson who writes with such brilliant, sparse prose while capturing the essence of the themes about which she writes.

It is a book about families and difficult family relationships and how family stories that impact generations. "Families are a sorrow, and that's the truth." It is about loss. "Memory is the sense of loss, and loss pulls us after it." It is finding and having connections when on feels cut off and isolated from the rest of the world. "Having a sister or a friend is like sitting at night in a lighted house." It is about identity and isolation.

The setting of the story speaks of such isolation. There seems to be no reason why anyone would be drawn to live in town where the story takes place. The house where the main characters live is perhaps one the most memorable houses I have ever read about. Odd in its location, design, and livability, it mirrors the oddness of those whom have lived there.

Robinson often weaves throughout the story a tale of the great loss that happened when a train derailed and plunged into the lake. The lake is one of the centerpieces of the setting for this book. The shock and grief of that event and the tragedies that followed the train wreck are woven throughout the book. The book is about the deep waters of emotional trauma that the survivors continue to cope as the go about the living out their lives. Each character seems to be alone in a below the surface place of turmoil.

I was relieved, as other readers have said, when I finished the book, but I am also glad I read it. There are so many facets to this book. I will have to re-read it to grasp the depth of it all.



View all my reviews

Vashonista Celebration

On the first of October, I flew to Seattle, Washington to spend five days with blogging friends that I first met in October of 2012 when we rented an old farmhouse on Vashon Island.  Since that first meeting, this time together at Lavender Hill has become a yearly event.  This year, since all of us are now retired, we decided to spend five days together rather than three.  We also decided that we would spend the time writing.  Deb from Cat Bird Scout was our facilitator for our writing.

During our writing time we worked from Pat Snider's model of workshop writing. We wrote eleven prompt writing during our time together.  We all agreed to share our last prompt writing on our blogs.

The Prompt

Deb read to us Mary Oliver's Poem The Summer Day.  If you have never read this wonderful poem, I am included it here:



Once Deb had finished reading the poem, she gave us the last line of this poem as our writing prompt:

What is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

A Reflection on The Prompt

Sometime assigned writing prompts bring up feelings which the writer wishes to not address in writing.  Such was the case for me that day.  This particular poem had been used on the funeral program of one lost too soon, of one I had loved and admired greatly.  I cut the poem from the funeral program and framed it as a reminder of the importance of that last line when considering the days we have left in this life.  

On this particular day when we were given this particular writing prompt, I had just received word that two men I had gone to school with had just passed away.  One had been married to a friend from my high school group before her untimely passing five years ago.  The other I had not know well, but my husband had, and he was the much loved older brother of a friend of mine.  Needless to say, the poem, the last line, and the prompt hit a very somber note with me.  The deaths of two from my school days seemed to prompt a reminder that I have fewer day before me than I do behind me.  

I decided to look back to my youth and see how I had used the days I have been given up until this point.  Had I used my time wisely?  What were my early goals for life?  How did the goals I had from my early days influence the decisions I have made through seven decades of living?  

The Writing Piece

Trees lined the sidewalks that led from the college dorms to the main campus.  Those canopy covered walks lead to the future for which I am preparing, I thought as I headed out that first day towards my very first college class.  Reality has hit.  I'm here for real.  Frosh orientation is thankfully over.  It seemed so silly.  I guess we are stuck with wearing these horrible beanies for a few days yet. I really hated the silly games we had to play during orientation.  Who thought we would like to play "Pass the orange under your chin to the guy behind you."  That, and high school, are all behind me now.  I have actually matriculated.  How's that for using a real college word?  I have my college map, and I know where Bru-Inn is.  I'll get a coke there after class.  Maybe I will make a new friend or two at the student center, but it is a bit scary to walk in by myself.  Maybe my roommate will meet me.  Thankfully, she and I are walking to our first classes together.

I belong here.  It took some doing.  I won the scholarship which is paying my tuition.  I convinced my father that I would make good on the investment he is making in my future.  Seventy dollars a quarter is covered by the tuition scholarship I won.  The board and room of $150 a quarter will partially be paid by the salary I will make working in the dining hall two meals a day.  I worked all summer to buy my clothes and help pay for books.  I know this is a sacrifice for my parents, but I am working and helping all I can.  

I will be a teacher.  I am here to prepare for that profession.  I'm not in any hurry to get married.  I will someday, but not now.  I want to be independent.  I want to rely on my own ability to make my way in this life.  

Later, when the preparation for a profession is done, and I have met the right person, I want to marry. I want to teach after I am married, but I also want five kids.  That means I hope to also have house, a garden, a place where my children and children after them will come for family dinners when they are grown.  I have my future all planned out.

The vision from those long ago days wasn't too far off.

The vision served as a blueprint for the decisions I made as I moved into the future.

I accomplished those goals.

Life has sent me many curves along the way.

Certainly, I never saw many of them coming, 

but

in the end,

if today were the end,

I'm happy with my life.

I've lived this wild and precious life well.

Read the posts from other Vashonistas at:

Deb at Cat Bird Scout

Sandi at Flying Into the Light

DJan at D-Janity

Jann at Benchmark 60

Linda at Thoughts of a Bag Lady in Waiting

Basking in the Glow of a Golden Celebration

Fading summer flowers,

spent,

and long past their days of glorious blooming,

signaled that the last days of summer had truly arrived.

Are these flowers a metaphor for the weekend?

I wondered as I hurried out of the house and headed off for a weekend

 with my high school girlfriends.

Long in the planning, the weekend celebration of our

70th birthdays

had finally arrived.

I had dubbed this celebration:
Our Senior Trip.

At age seventy, some may think my girlfriends and I had reached an age beyond the blooming days of youth where there is not much to celebrate.

In our hearts we are still young girls,
but,

we have somehow reached the entry year to our eighth decade.

We came together 

to bask 

in the glory of reaching a milestone that none of knew could be so rewarding.

bask/

verb

1. lie exposed to warmth and light, typically from the sun, for relaxation and pleasure

   revel in and make the most of (something pleasing).*

The Trip to the Celebration

A few of us decided to make the trip from the Colorado Front Range of the Rockies
to the Western Slope of Colorado
via the train.

The train left Denver at 8:05 a.m. for a five hour and forty-eight minute trip
through the Colorado Mountains.

I had not taken this particular train route since my sophomore year in college.

That was fifty years ago.

The entire trip promised to be a nostalgic one for me.

Jim got up early and drove me to Denver where I met up with the other six girls traveling by train.  

We were all very excited.

This railroader's daughter loves a train ride.

As the train wove its way up and over the mountains, a metaphor to describe the weekend began to take shape in my mind:

All is golden.

My History with the Group

I had the good fortune to join the Girls of '63 when I first attended Pueblo East High School during my freshman year in high school.  Pueblo East was a brand new high school in 1959 when my father, an agent for the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad, was transferred from Colorado Springs to Pueblo. I was a very frightened fifteen year old, naive and quite young looking for my age, when I was uprooted from my junior high and transplanted to the high school setting in November of '59.  I had lived in the same house all of my life before that move.  I had known my classmates since kindergarten.

When I walked through those doors of East High, I had no idea that I would make some the most important friendships of my life in the three years I proudly wore gold and white and cheered for the Eagles.  Immediately, the girls from my class began to make me feel welcome by inviting me to school events, or seeking me out to sit with the girls at lunch.  Soon I was attending sleepovers where we laughed all night and told each other stories about our lives.

One of the girls from this group introduced me to my husband.  Her sixteenth birthday(click to read this story.) was our first date.  Now, all these years later, she would be my roommate for our 70th birthday celebration.  

Twenty-two of us gathered to celebrate our 70th birthdays together in the beautiful Glenwood Springs, Colorado.  Yes, much has changed over the years, but in so many ways, nothing has changed.  Those friendships deeply rooted in our youth have flourished over the years as some have gathered quarterly for over twenty-five years.  We missed those who could not attend dearly and thought of them often.

It was my good fortune to join the lunch group about six years ago when I finally connected with some of the stalwarts of the group and learned of the next gathering.  I learned the truth of this quote below the first time I attended one of the lunches.  

This quote also came to mind so often during the weekend:
Your heart and my heart are very old friends.

~ Hafiz

The Celebration

We came together to celebrate attaining the age of seventy.  

We came together to celebrate friendship, 

perseverance,

 roots, 

heritage, 

our histories, 

our loyalty to each other, 

and each individual person.  

We came together to remember those we have lost.

 We shared stories of our lives while we have been living life.

We laughed.

We cried.

We came together to affirm our love for each other.  

We came together to express our support for each other as we move towards the future.

We are our own unique group of Golden Girls.

Here are some photos from our glorious birthday party:

We arrived at the beautiful old railroad station in Glenwood Springs, Colorado.  Our first task was to determine just how we would cross the river to our lodge on the other side.

We navigated the long pedestrian bridge and made it to our destination.

No taxi for us!

We all stayed at the Glenwood Hot Springs Lodge. We had free access to the hot springs pool and a free fabulous breakfast at the hot springs every morning.  Our rooms were wonderful.  We even were able to have a large ballroom for our birthday dinner on Saturday night.  Our fabulous planner, a Glenwood Springs resident with great connections, JG (In the flowered top) made all arrangements for us.  She did an outstanding job.  She is a party planner extraordinaire.  I also think she is  the original Energizer Bunny.  Where does this girl get her energy?

Our Party Planner
JG

The first night, we donned our Girls of '63 shirts for group photos that were taken by a professional photographer.  The poor woman charged with taking our photos must have felt like she was herding cats.  She had excellent "classroom management skills."  Many photos were taken.We had groups that included all those whom had attended kindergarten through graduation together.  I think about nine or ten of the girls were in this group.  That alone is an amazing thing.  About five or six of us joined the Class of '63 during high school.  I alone, did not graduate with the group because my father was transferred to Leadville, Colorado just before my senior year.  

After photos, we walked through town to go to a vaudeville show which was excellent and exceeded all expectations for entertainment for the evening.  As we walked through town we garnered quite a few reactions.  "Hey, were you all born in '63?"  I said I'd take someone believing we all were 63.  A passenger in a passing car built our egos with a whistle.  (Hey, it's been a long time since we've had a guy whistle at us.)

Saturday night we had our big birthday dinner.  So many did so much work to get everything ready, but JG outdid herself.  A florist by trade, she made our table centerpieces and dressed the tables in our school colors of gold and white.  Yearbooks and memory books were on each table.  We had individual table place markers with a picture from our high school yearbook.  SP made each of us a rose bookmark.  JG made the fabulous birthday cake.  

A history of our group was read by PS.  As is our tradition, we raised our margaritas as a toast to those we have lost too soon.  We wept as a list of all of the fallen Eagles from our class was read.  Too many are gone too soon.  A few of the girls went to great effort to set up a tree with photos of all of our fallen Eagles.

The weekend was all about friendship.

I have the best girlfriends.

I am so blessed.

My Girlfriends
Pure Gold

Some of my readers have remarked that they are amazed that this group has met on a consistent basis.  Truly, it is a remarkable feat in this day and age to have a group stay so connected for all these years. We owe PS for the gift of this group.  She is our organizer.  She keeps us together by setting the dates for our meetings in advance.  Those who can come to events, do so.  Those who can't come try to attend the next one.

The hostess for each gathering usually has a co-hostess who serves as a backup hostess just in case of emergency.  The hostess provides the main dish.  PS makes sure we have desserts, salads, and sides assigned to all attending. She even maintains a group photo album that includes a group photo from every gathering since the very first one.  PS had the vision of a 70th birthday party, and we actually made it a reality!  Thank you, PS!

PS reading the history of our group

The setting for the celebration could not have been better.  We had access to the healing waters of the Glenwood Springs Hot Springs for three glorious days.  The warm natural springs provided just the right place for bonding again with each other.  One day, I'm sure we spent at least three hours in the afternoon just standing in a large circle in the water, or sitting on sides with our feet soaking in the warm water, talking.  Yes, there was a lot of talking, talking, talking, and much laughter.  We cried a bit.  We marveled at the stories of our lives.  We were astounded that we actually had these hours together for such deep, reflective, sharing.  

The setting
DC & KM friends for 65 years

I felt younger and healthier after a weekend of soaking in the healing waters for hours on end.  Was this place the fountain of youth?  I remember looking up at the beautiful Colorado blue sky, feeling the warmth of the sun on my shoulders, and gazing into the beautiful lined faces and sparkling eyes of my lifelong friends and thinking that life just doesn't get much better than this.

Too soon, it was time to go home. 

Throughout the weekend, we shared hugs, 

held hands, 

promised to be there to end.

DDI commented that next great challenge as a group would be loss of hearing.

Yes, we had a hard time hearing at times.

That is the reality of celebrating 70!

We had soaked up rays of sun and healing waters.

We relaxed and experienced great pleasure.

We reveled in, and

 made the most of

celebrating our 70th birthdays.

We basked in the warmth of our golden friendships.

* Dictionary.com

Savoring Those Final Summer Days

Why do we rush the seasons?

Am I wrong when I remember that seasons during  my childhood were more clearly defined?
These days, children go back to school in August while we didn't go back to school until
after Labor Day.

While the summer flowers are blooming, the grocery stores start selling mums.
Starbucks starts selling lattes flavored with pumpkin before I'm ready to think of fall.
The Halloween displays come out in August.
The retail stores must hurry with these displays because soon we will see Christmas displays.

The autumnal equinox arrives at 4:21 a.m. EST on September 24, 2015.

Until then, it is technically still summer.

That means:
for me

the sandals can still be worn, weather permitting,

as can the sun dresses,

the shorts,

the cropped pants.

I've put away the white pants and the white shoes.

This is reflection of those rules of proper seasonal attire  that are deeply ingrained in my head:
no white shoes or pants should be worn
 before Memorial Day 

or after Labor Day.

Until September 24, it is still summer in my world.

I'm not ready to move into fall yet.

My mind and my body just aren't ready to make that transition.

Yes, just as I wrote in my last blog post, I am still on the cusp of autumn.

Cusp

[kuhsp] 

noun

a point that marks the beginning of a change

a point of transition: turning point, edge, verge

Don't rush me.

I'm not ready to make the transition.

I do admit that  transitions are difficult for me.

Today, soon after my arrival to her office, my therapist asked me an important question,

"What are you doing to prepare for the fall and winter days that are coming?"

Has she been reading my mind?

Actually, I've been giving this topic a lot of thought.

I know myself well enough to know that I must prepare for the coming days when I can't enjoy the green grass, the leafy trees, and the beautiful flowers of summer.
I must plan for those days when I feel housebound.
Those days when the snow flies, the wind blows, and the roads are covered with ice are not days that I particularly enjoy.

What am I doing to make the transition into the seasons that are coming?

This is what I am doing:

I am hanging on to summer as long as I can!

Intentional self-care does not come naturally to me.

Summer is a time when I find it easier to adopt healthier habits.
Do you find that is true?
Here are some things I'm doing to help me transition from summer into fall in a healthy way.

Mental/Emotional Self-Care

Photographs of a favorite summertime vignette are captured to remind the heart during the dark days that no doubt will come in the following months that summer will again make its appearance.

Journaling is important part of maintaining my emotional and mental health.
I love to journal on the back deck in the summer.
I love to see shadows of leaves across the page as I write.
I always miss my outdoor writing times when summer is over.

Physical Self-Care

This season, the one we are still in, is a great time to try and get in shape.

I'm exercising outside as much as I can.
We live in the most wonderful area for walking.

See what I'm talking about.
Here is a wonderful example of the hoodoo rocks or mushroom rocks that crop up all over my neighborhood.
I never tire of looking at these beautiful rocks.
Look at the interesting shapes and textures.
Don't you just love my hoodoos?

Here is an example of another hoodoo  in my area.
Notice how the colors in the formation are different from the  colors in the example above.
I love this rock.
I call her my "Cat Rock."
I like to think she keeps a protective eye on our neighborhood.

Besides walking, as a preparation for when I can no longer exercise outside,
I am trying to get in the habit of making it to the club more often.
The old hip is acting up, so I have traded Zumba Gold for water exercise.
Last week I tried Aqua Zumba.
What fun!
After class, dripping wet, I decided to dry off by lounging outside in the sun.
As a nod to those days when I was a sun worshiper,
I actually spent ten or fifteen minutes just soaking up the bright sunshine before I had to make a hasty retreat to the shade.
This is another way I am preparing for the cooler days ahead.
I am soaking up as much sun as I can while I can.

I'm also looking after my past medical issues.
I just had the five month check on my pacemaker.
My life is greatly improved since that little device was implanted in my body.
According to the last check, I have ten years left on the battery, and
I'm using it 75% of the time.
I had no events of AFib in the last two months.
Technology is wonderful.
That little device helped to make my summer a great one.

Lifestyle

I truly am trying to establish a schedule.
I do better when I have to live by the bell.
Teaching schedules gave me that discipline.
I struggle to adopt my own schedule when one is not established for me.
It has been an even larger challenge to learn to adopt a schedule
now that my husband is working retail.
Some of you may remember that my husband, after working in education for forty-two years,
decided to begin a new career by working for Apple.
He loves his job, and his job is good for him, so I am trying to adjust to a schedule that changes
day by day.
Some days he works days.
Others he works nights.
I find it nearly impossible to establish regular times for the daily tasks of living.
Since I need a time schedule that is fairly routine,
I'm still working on finding balance in this area of my life.
In the meantime,
Boston and I mark time while he is gone by walking together in the evening,
or I read or write with Boston at my feet.
Make no assumptions that I have become the number one person in Boston's life;
he still won't eat while his master is gone,
and when his master comes home there is a love fest that takes place between these two.

I'm learning lessons from my husband during this season.
Fulfilling work remains important even during the retirement years.
As I leave summer, I am pondering this life lesson.

Spiritual Self-Care

One of the greatest blessing of the past year has been the time I have spent with a very special group of ladies from my church.
We call ourselves Monica Moms.
St. Augustine's mother was named Monica.
That is where the name for our group comes from.
We pray for our children as she prayed for her son.
Every other Wednesday, we meet for two or three hours to lift up our adult children in prayer.
The time I spend with these women in prayer are times I will forever treasure.

I'm blessed to have a mother who prays for me.
Just recently, I called her and when she answered the phone, she said,
"I was just praying for you."
She is nearly 100 years old, but she continues to pray for me.
I hope to have many more summers to pray for my children.
I rest in the assurance that those prayers will forever be found at the Throne of Grace.

People Support

Summer is a perfect time for lunch with friends.
I've enjoyed many long lunches with great friends this summer.

I'm ending off the summer by going on a three day trip with my high school girl friends.
It is our big 70th birthday bash!
We have talked about and planned this trip for years.
We wanted to enter the seventh decade of our lives in a big way.
We are going on our "senior trip."
Watch out.
The Girls of '63 are heading to Glenwood Springs, Colorado.

So, during these last days summer,
I'll be off traveling.

First,
I'm getting on a train with a bunch of the girls.
That alone will be a great adventure.
Once we all arrive at our destination,
we have three days of a very full agenda planned.

I think I'm capping off the summer of 2015 in grand style.


See you all in the fall.
Enjoy the final days of summer.