Feeling A Bit More of A Spring In My Step

The snow fell again today.  My response to the snow was so different from my response the last few times it has snowed.  Perspective makes all the difference in the way one sees snow in April.  Early this evening, just as the light of day was beginning to fade, as I watched the snow fall softly just outside my window, feelings of peace and security filled my mind.  The snow, quickly swallowed up by thirsty earth, brightened the emerging green of the grass.  The earth emitted a smell of spring.  Snow may have been falling, but in my heart, I know spring's promised renewal is on its way.

I'd nearly missed watching trees coming to life this year.  I'd not seen any flowers blooming.  For the last twelve days, my view has mostly been limited to what I saw outside the windows of my house.  Things still looked mostly bleak, dry, and brown.  Inside my mind and body, I've been fighting to get well.  I've exhausted, ill, and uncomfortable.  Fear kept knocking at my door.  Was I ever going to feel well again?

Today, my dear and patient, but also very weary, husband drove me to Denver to see the surgeon.  The word is:  I am healing very well on the outside, but the inside is taking longer than it takes most folks after gallbladder surgery.  The doctor spoke of the abscess and assured me it would dissolve.  He told me he had been confident all would be fine last week when he saw the labs and CT scan because all bile ducts were fine and other complications that could occur were not present.  He spoke of the bell curve of healing.  The teacher in me identified with that analogy well.  He said a few are out skiing in four days, others are doing very well after four or five days, and a few are having problems after a week.   "Where am I on the bell curve?" I asked as I reminded him that I was a retired teacher.  I was thinking I must be in 70 IQ range of the curve if we were using the bell curve for healing.  "Oh, you are definitely in the "A" range of the curve.  You have an "A," he said.  "That's good," I replied, "because I only do "A's."  In truth I thought he was only trying to make me feel better.  I am just glad we are not graded on how quickly we heal, or why we heal one way or the other.  

He said I looked so much better than I had in the ER last week.  I mentioned that make-up helped.  He had seen me sans make-up the last time we met.  He said, make-up had nothing to do with it.  "It was in the eyes," he said.  He said he couldn't decide if I was showing exhaustion, pain, or worry in what he saw in my eyes.  "All of the above," I said.

As I look back on the twelve days it has been since my surgery, I can't help but reflect on the experience.  Perhaps, I needed this time to grow in my own determination to work towards good health.  Perhaps, I needed this time to grow in faith. Perhaps, I needed this time to feel deeper compassion for those who are very ill and suffer more than I will ever imagine possible.  Perhaps, I needed this time to gain a new admiration for those in the medical field that I have the good fortune to have on my team.  

Today, as we left the doctor's office, I felt a new awakening.  My confidence in the process of healing was strengthened.  To celebrate, given the fact that I had not eaten a decent meal in at least five days and had not eaten a decent meal for about seven days before that, I asked my husband to take me to my favorite lunch spot in Denver:  The Bistro at Nordstrom at Cherry Creek Mall.  We sat in our favorite booth.  We even were served by our favorite server.  We savored the club sandwich.  I ate as many French fries as I dared to eat, dipping them in the wonderful Kalamata Olive Aioli Dip that Nordstrom Bistro makes.  I love that dip!  

My husband drove down University Boulevard to get to I25 from Cherry Creek Mall.  He said he did not want to deal with Colorado Boulevard again today.  The first thing that jumped into my mind, was Bonnie Brae Ice Cream.  "Since we are going down University, could we stop into Bonnie Brae?" I asked.  I figured that since I'd risked eating French fries, I might as well add a little ice cream to my sensitive, anti-biotic filled digestive system.  It had been a very long time since I'd had any fat in my diet.  Ice cream really sounded good.  

On our way to my favorite ice cream shop, I drank in the beauty of the soft green petal like growth of new leaves on the trees.  We drove around the block near the ice cream shop.  I always love the flower filled yards in that area.  The tulips and daffodils in the area seemed to bloom just for me.  I realized I'd nearly missed seeing forsythia bushes blooming this year while I've been cooped up inside my house.  

Isn't funny how just going to a favorite place can lift your spirits?  Who couldn't be happy here?

As I ate my small serving of my favorite flavor of ice cream, peppermint from Bonnie Brae, I looked out of the window at the scene that promised the hope of many fun summer evening visits for many during the months ahead and felt more of the load of winter and illness and worry lift off my shoulders.  

I saw the potted geraniums that were boldly placed on the table just outside from where I was sitting. Just seeing these red summery looking blossoms made think of warmer days that will soon be here.  I love those optimists that set out potted geraniums on an April day in Colorado when snow is in the forecast for later in the day.  These people know that we must capture sunshine while we can.  Geraniums can always be moved indoors later in the day, but it is a sign of a good gardener and positive person to move plants outside while the sun was shining.  

Too soon, our time in the ice cream shop was over.  As y husband and I drove north towards home, we watched  clouds, heavily pregnant with moisture,  drift down the sides of the mountains.  We knew that snow would soon be falling. In fewer than forty minutes after we left our sunny ice cream eating spot, we were in a springtime snow storm.  

The snow can fall.  It won't last long.  The flowers are beginning to bloom.  I will soon be outside digging in the dirt.  Yes, I am feeling a bit of a spring in my step.  

Surgery Update

A week ago yesterday, I had my gallbladder removed laparoscopically.  Once the surgery was done, and I had spent some time in recovery, I was sent home.  That is how this surgery is done these days.  I expected to be up and going by the fourth day or so.  In fact, on the fourth day, which Tuesday, April 8, I felt quite well.  Since I had been cooped up for a few days, and since the day promised to be a beautiful warm one, and since it also marked the anniversary date of what would have been my daughter's 38th birthday, I suggested to my husband that we drive down to Pueblo, where we used to live, to take a walk in the sunshine.  The weather was perfect.  The flowers and trees were in bloom.  I actually took some photos, which might be quite nice ones, but I don't seem to have the energy to download the images off of my camera.  The day was actually a wonderful day.  I walked quite a bit, and then Jim and I had dinner and came home.

The next day, I didn't feel well.  I thought perhaps I had overdone.  I had pain where my gallbladder once was, and I was chilled.  A neighbor stopped by to visit and to bring a homemade treat.  While she was there, my husband said, "Sally, you don't look well.  You need to go to bed."  My neighbor agreed, and I went to bed and slept for the rest of the afternoon.

On Thursday, I thought I really should be better.  Others told me that they had returned to work on the third or fourth day, and yet here it was the sixth day after surgery and I felt worse than ever.  I called my doctor.  He said complications are extremely rare, and said he wasn't worried about the chills if I had no fever.  He also said if I was real concerned,  I could either go to the emergency room or give it one more day.  I gave it one more day.  Jim had a sleep study at the hospital that night.  I just thought I could rest and be better.  I didn't think I needed to disrupt everything and go to the ER.  Besides, I hate the ER and am quite tired of making trips there.

The next day, Friday, which was the seventh day after surgery, the pain was worse than it had been.  I could move around better, so the surgical pain did not seem to be the problem, but deep down inside I had a deep, sharp pain.  I also was chilling.  I called the doctor.  His nurse seemed to think that the problem was not the surgery.  I wondered if I was having pancreatitis.  I was told to call my GI doctor.  I did.

That is when things began to shift.  I can't say enough good things about the doctors at National Jewish and my doctor in particular.  When she was told what was going on with me, her nurse called me right back and said that pain on the seventh day after laparoscopic surgery is not the norm.  Dr. M. said that her nurse would call the surgeon's office and tell them that this was an acute situation and I needed to be assessed STAT.  I then got a call from the surgeon's office telling me to go to the lab at Rose Medical in Denver for blood work.  "How quickly could I be there?"

Since, our original plan had been to drive north of Denver on Friday to babysit my grandchildren that day, we were actually already packed and ready to go.  I said we would be there in an hour and a half if traffic cooperated.  Thankfully, I then suggested to my husband that we board the dog rather than taking the chance of me being tied up at the hospital while Jim had to deal with the dog.  Jim's daughter came over and got Boston and took him to doggie daycare.  After daycare, he would then be boarded.  With the dog taken care of, we were off to Denver.

About half way there, my cell phone rang.  It was Dr. M. from National Jewish.  She wanted to know where I was and what my plan was.  I said I was going to have labs at Rose Medical as that was what my surgeon's nurse had said to do.  I told her I was in Castle Rock and expected to be at the lab in about 45 minutes.  That is when Dr. M., my GI doctor at National Jewish,  told me that she did not want me to go to the lab.  She said, "You are to go directly to the emergency room at Rose Medical."  I followed her directive.

Rose Medical was first class all the way.  They quickly admitted me, took my history, drew lab work, and sent me down for a CT scan with contrast.  My pain was getting worse and worse.  I was becoming nauseated.

Soon the labs were back with good news.  I did not have any indication of infection.  My liver and pancreatic enzymes were normal.  In fact, my labs looked perfect.  Thank God.  The CT scan told us what was going on.  I have an intra-abdominal abscess.  It appears to be a "collection of fluids" about an inch or so across in size.

The nurses were just getting ready to send me up to a room when my surgeon came in.  He was very kind.  He also was reassuring.  He said that since I didn't have indications of infection, he wanted to give me a big dose of antibiotics in the hospital.  He then wanted me to go home because he didn't think that my condition was serious enough to require hospitalization.  I was given instructions to call immediately if things changed once I got home.  I was sent home with two antibiotics, pain meds, and four pages of instructions on what I was to do and watch for.

Today, has been mostly good.  I am taking the antibiotics and hoping they do the trick.  I have some pain this evening.  I am still chilling some.  I have spoken with the doctor.  It seems that we are doing all that can be done.  We just have to give the drugs time to work.

I hope this takes care of it.   I am confident that I am in good hands.  I just had a fluke happen to me that is quite rare.  I am grateful for caring doctors.  I am most grateful that Dr. M. told me to go to the ER because if I'd only had labs done, the abscess would not have been found and who knows what could have happened.  So far, I don't have any regrets on having the surgery.  This could not have been foreseen.  Hopefully by next week I am as good as new and all of this is behind me.  I won't be one of those that says that my gallbladder surgery was the easiest surgery I ever had.  Well, I guess the surgery was fine.  It was what happened afterwards, and who knows why that happened, that wasn't so great.

If you think of me, lift up a prayer.  I am encouraged by the good labs.  I am hoping I can tolerate the antibiotics without side effects.  I'll keep you posted.

Health Reports~Should They Public or Private?

I hardly know how to begin this post.  I have had such heartfelt wishes for my recovery as I prepared for gallbladder surgery that at times I felt a bit overwhelmed.  It is a blessing to know that one has so many friends in the world out there cheering one on through the good days and the bad days.  The surgery, scheduled for 2:30 in the afternoon on this past Friday actually didn't take place until around 3:00.  I was on my way home by around 6:30 that same evening.  It seems rather unimaginable that such surgeries can take place so quickly these days.  That is the  beauty of removing the gallbladder laparoscopically.  While my activities are somewhat limited, and I do have some pain, I am just amazed at how well I am doing.  Thank you all so much for your good good wishes, prayers, phone calls, and cards.  I am feeling quite cared for.

I recall the time over Labor Day Weekend in 1965 when President Lyndon B. Johnson had his gallbladder removed.  I was at my grandparent's home, staunch Democrats, when my grandmother showed me a photo of the President showing the world his gallbladder scar.  It was quite shocking to many that he would so publicly discuss his surgery and show his wound.  My grandmother was quite appalled.  Her sense of decorum was quite upset by his decision to show the world his scar.  

I decided I would look to see if I could find that photo on the internet.  It is out there, but it is copyrighted, so I'm not including it in this post.  It is interesting to find out, these forty-nine years later, that Johnson was politically motivated when he pulled up his shirt and showed his long scar to the reporters waiting for a story.  Evidently, some thought Johnson had cancer and that the public was just being given the story that he had gallbladder surgery.  He asked what a scar for exploratory cancer would like and was told it would look nothing like a gallbladder removal scar, so LBJ showed the world that his scar proved he did not have cancer.  (Read more about it here if you are interested.)

I'm so glad I don't have a long scar to show you. (No, I wouldn't show it to you anyway.) We've come a long ways surgically since the sixties.  The procedure to remove a gallbladder now takes only about thirty minutes. I was in recovery for about another two and a half hours.  After that, I was sent home to be cared for by my dear husband.  

Surgical methods are not the only things that have drastically changed since the sixties.  Now, it seems that our health issues, good and bad, are discussed openly on the web by those of us who feel no qualms about doing so.  

I do hope that this surgery will solve many of the issues that I have had for some time.  Time will tell.  Some wondered why I went to Denver to have my surgery when I live in Colorado Springs. My husband and I even laughed a bit on our drive to Denver, which is about 65 miles from our home because when we lived in Pueblo, we drove 45 miles to doctors in Colorado Springs.  Now that we live in Colorado Springs, we are driving to Denver.  The reason I went to Rose Medical Center is because I have suffered for over a year with severe pain in my upper right quadrant.  I was hospitalized for three days in Colorado Spring last May because of the pain and the lab reports that went with it.  I've made no fewer than five trips to the emergency room in Colorado Springs with this problem.  I've had labs drawn, and I've had more labs drawn.  I've had two MRI's of my gallbladder, more scans than I can remember, and a HIDA scan.  While none of these tests were conclusive that I had gallbladder disease, the pain and nausea were making my life miserable.  

I had gone to an excellent GI doctor at National Jewish Health last spring after not getting any answers that were conclusive about my GI problems from doctors here in town.  Dr. M. has expertly guided my medical care ever since.  Finally, after inconclusive pancreatic tests done at the University of Colorado, and after my pain continued without showing an elevated lipase level, Dr. M. sent me to her surgeon for a consult.  He meticulously went through my records and said that if I was ready to have my gallbladder removed, he would perform the surgery.  I could not have been happier with the kind of care and the level of expertise that I received from this fine surgeon and from Rose Medical.

I am hopeful that I am on the upswing when it comes to my health.  I am off all of my heart meds and that has greatly improved my over all GI health.  I am watching my diet and exercising to fight pre-diabetes.  I have a fine team of doctors who are monitoring my auto-immune issues.  It has been a long journey.  

Health and Grief

I've learned much about the effect that grief and loss has on the body.  I remember a phone call from a dear friend just days after my daughter had died.  This friend, no stranger to the kind of shock that I had received, had worked with my husband as an assistant principal at one time.  She told me what to expect during the next few years as I mourned the tragic death of my daughter.  She was the first one who told me that grief can compromise health.  

I've always been an optimistic person.  I think that whatever I faced in life, I just pushed through and did what had to be done.  I found that I could no longer do that after Julie died.  

I hesitated to have surgery so close to Julie's birthday.  She would have been 38 years old tomorrow if she had lived.  I know that this time of year is hard for me and her family.  I also know that Julie would want me to go forward and take care of my health.

Just walking into a hospital and putting on a hospital gown is more than I can bear.  When I first saw Julie after her death, I was shocked to see her in a hospital gown.  I will forever remember the print that was on the gown.  

I was once given a surgical gown made of the same print about a year after she died.  I bravely put it on, fighting back the tears.  The nurse came once I had changed and lowered the bed to give me an i.v.  My blood pressure plummeted and I passed out cold.  The next thing I knew, I was in an ambulance and on my way to the hospital where I went through hours of testing.  

Thankfully, in the four years since Julie's death, the designs on surgical gowns have changed.  I can pick up a hospital gown and put it on.  I can do that.  Not easily, but I can.

In preparing for last week's surgery, I was quite upbeat.  I could not wait to get it done.  I wished it would happen at a different time of year, but I was more than ready to go forward.  I don't think I was that nervous about the surgery.  I felt I was in good hands.  Yet, I was not prepared for what happened as I came out of surgery.  

It seemed I'd barely been wheeled into the freezing cold operating room, and lifted my body from the hospital gurney to the hard, skinny operating table when I was quickly administered the anesthesia.  As I moved my body from flat surface to the other, I thought of making that same move from gurney to table to give birth. I commented on how skinny the table was.  "Are you going to tie me on in case I get too crazy during surgery?" I jokingly asked the nurse?  I remember she said, "yes."  Then I was gone.

I woke up in pain in recovery.  I was crying for Julie.  Literally, I was calling her name and crying.  I've not had extreme physical pain like I experienced right out of surgery since her death.  I remember thinking that it felt like I'd just given birth via a c-section, but I've never given birth via c-section, so how would I know how that felt?  All I know is that in my physical pain, I could only cry for her pain and hope that she had not suffered.  Grief is funny that way.  It hits you in the body when your defenses are down.  It hit me hard.  

Julie & Mom
Walking for A Cure

Today, I wrote this poem about that experience.  I am sharing it in the hope that it will help others know that they are not alone as they suffer the loss of a child.  I am sharing it because as I heal physically I know I am still on a long journey of  emotional and physical suffering that accompanies  the loss of my beautiful daughter.  I am healing, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  I am doing what it takes to move toward health.  Thank you for being by my side in the journey.  

Pain

I cried out for you.

Anesthesia just losing its grip on body and mind,

Shocked by the pain.

I'd been just fine.

Then I was in no man's land.

I felt nothing,

Remembered nothing.

 Awakened, not knowing where I was,

Pain took over. 

Just as on the day you took your life,

I went from happiness to shock,

And unbearable pain. 

This time shock and pain cried out for you.

Your mother 's body experienced shocking, cutting pain.

Julie.

Julie.

Did you feel pain?

Did you?

I can't bear that as you left this life you might have felt the cutting pain that severed your life from mine. 

Seeking Stillness ~ Creating Community

Seeking Stillness

Do you have a sanctuary?  Do you have a place where you can be still?  Do you have a place where you feel safe?  For me, my physical sanctuary is my study, which is also the guest room.  I have carved out two little corners for myself in this sanctuary.  One corner contains my small desk where I write.

The other corner contains my reading chair.

Throughout my life, I have always had to have my solitude.  Along with that solitude, I've always needed a place where I could go to close out the world and connect with my inner world.  I connect best to that inner world through reading and writing.  Without stillness, and that place where I can just "be," I would never be able to function in the world at large.

Despite my need for solitude, and stillness, I also thrive on the energy created by other people around me.  I could not be happy if I were not a part of community.  In my need for solitude, I am not a loner.  I am a "people person," yet, I cannot always be surrounded by people.   Ironically, while I re-energize and heal through solitude and stillness, I find that I am also building community through the reading and writing that I do in that solitude.

This morning, I had a Bible study to attend.  That meant that I needed to up no later than 7:30.  I planned on getting up at 7:00.  My husband also needed to get up early, so he had set an alarm for 7:00.  I had a rough night.  Late in the day yesterday, my gallbladder had acted up. In the middle of the night, I was awakened by nausea.  I heard the alarm at 7:00, but I ignored it.  At 7:20, my husband came into the bedroom to gently wake me.  I appreciated his nudge.  I then asked if it had snowed as was predicted.  "Yes, but there are no school closures yet," he said.  So, I pulled myself out of bed and made my way to the shower as my husband checked the church website and the church school website to see if anything was posted saying that the school was closed due to the snow.  If this had been true, our Bible study would have been cancelled.

I know it is the third day of April, but we had snow today, lots of it.  After my shower, I walked into the kitchen to get my coffee that my sweet husband had already made for me and looked out of my kitchen window.  This was my view:

My decision for my day was made as soon as I put together a few factors:  it had snowed quite a bit; I still was feeling quite nauseous; I had not slept well; and, I am having surgery tomorrow.  Tomorrow, after a year of quite a few gallbladder attacks, and more testing than one would ever imagine, I am finally having gallbladder surgery. I decided today was a day to stay home.  

"I need to just be still today,"  I told my husband.  "I need to take the time to rest up and prepare for tomorrow."  My husband fully agreed with my decision to take the day to rest.

And so, today, instead of building community with the lovely ladies in my Bible study, and instead of being able to spend some time with one of my best friends, I chose to take the time to do some reading and some writing.  I chose to connect with the community that I find in books.  I chose to connect with the community that I find through blogging.  

Today, I chose Mary Pipher's book, Writing to Change the World, for my reflective text.  This book was on my bedside table because I had recently retrieved it from a bookshelf downstairs to use in preparing for a writing prompt for the monthly writing time I have with my writing partner, Iris.  From my notes in the margin of the book, I learned I had first purchased this book in July of 2007.  Mary Pipher, a favorite non-fiction writer of mine, and author The Middle of Everywhere:  Helping Refugees Enter the American Community, had through her excellent book on how to be a cultural broker provided me with one of the great texts I had used when I was teaching in the area of linguistically and culturally diverse education at Colorado State University-Pueblo.  Just after I retired, I found the book she had written in 2006 on writing and decided it could become a great text for my retirement years which I hoped would be filled with time for writing.  The inspiration I used in writing today's blog post, came from a portion of a chapter title in Writing to Change the World: "Seeking Stillness/Inspiring Action."

I've been mostly retired for nearly seven years now.  At times, I can't believe it has been that long.  I truly did hope to spend a large portion of my retirement days writing.  I thought I would be able to sustain the discipline of having a schedule similar to that which while I had while working when I began retirement.  Knowing my personality, this was really a very preposterous idea, but I did have hope that I would do so.

Today's Reflection:  Creating Community through Reading, Writing, and Blogging

Reading has always been one of my favorite pastimes.  One enlarges and enhances one's world by reading.  One creates an community of character's in one's mind through reading.  One visits other countries, centuries, and cultures through reading.  Reading, just for reading's sake, has never been the driving force in my reading life.  I read to connect to the author, and to the characters in the story.  I think much of my life is about building connection; therefore, I read to build connection to myself and others.  

Blogging, when was the first time you heard that term?  For me, I have a very distinct memory of when I had first heard the terms blog and blogging.  I must admit that I had no idea what either word meant.  I was meeting with the English Department Chair at CSU-Pueblo when he spoke of blogging.  I would imagine that the year was 2005.  As a program coordinator in the Education Department, I was hired to write the curriculum and develop the program where teachers and pre-service teachers could take the classes necessary to add an endorsement to their teaching certificates that would enable them to teach  linguistically diverse (ESL) students.  The process of writing the curriculum and creating the endorsement involved, among other things, building a strong relationship with other departments.  During my meeting with him, Dr. S, almost as a side note, mentioned how he was quite fascinated by blogs and was thinking about how to build them into the English curriculum.  I smiled, tried to act as if I knew what he was talking about, wrote the word "blog" in my notes, and said, "Yes, that is an interesting idea."  When I got back to my office, I did a Google search of the word, read a bit about blogging, decided it made no sense to me, and filed the idea away in the back of my mind.  I had no intention of building blogging into the curriculum I was writing.

In 2007, I read more about blogs in Pipher's book Writing to Change the World.  Chapter Fourteen, "Blogs - A Revolutionary New Tool,"  gives the reader a short summary of the history of blogging and includes a brief assessment of blogging and how people all over the world were using blogs to give voice to all sorts of social and political concerns.  She also speaks of blog  "building communities, sometimes international ones, of people who do similar work."  (p. 221)

It is interesting to note that in the margin of the book next to a paragraph about how blogs provide instant self-publication opportunities that seem to "emphasize self-reflection and social commentary," I drew a * in the margin and re-wrote the words:  self-reflection and social commentary."  (A * in the margin has always served as an indicator to me that this is an important point to remember from my reading.)  At this point in my life, blogging was purely textbook knowledge.  I saw its value as a way to connect to the world.  I even saw its value as a writing tool, but I had not made it a part of my life.

As I initially intended when I began my day today,  I have spent time in my sanctuary where I came seeking stillness.  I have rested, and I have read.  In my stillness, my inner being has been been at work.  My thoughts have given way to expression through writing.  This is the natural process for me.  It is one I have followed for many years.  But now, I write not only for me in my journal, I also write on my blog.

I first began blogging in response to becoming a part of our family blog in June of 2008. This private, family only, blog was created my daughter Keicha, who now writes her own blog at O-townramblings.  Our family blog was an active, happy part of our lives through much of 2008.  Soon, our exchanges on Blogger were replaced by exchanges on Facebook.  I miss our family blog.  I wish we would resurrect it and use it again.   Like many other things in the life of our family, our family blog died a quiet death after the death of our daughter and sister Julie in 2010.  The header of our family blog contained this quote:  "AMONG THOSE WHOM I LIKE OR ADMIRE, I CAN FIND NO COMMON DENOMINATOR, BUT AMONG THOSE WHOM I LOVE, I CAN: ALL OF THEM MAKE ME LAUGH." W.H. AUDEN  Perhaps, after Julie's death we just could not find ourselves able to tell each other our funny stories.  I don't know when we began to have funny stories again.  Did we ever have them again?  There was just too much sadness, heartbreak, and unfortunately, we soon found ourselves isolated from each other when we needed each other the most.

I began my own blog on June 28, 2008 in response to a class assignment when I was taking a semester long class through the Southern Colorado Writing Project.  I did not post another entry until November 4, 2008.  (Click to read that post.)  It is clear from my writing, that my target audience was my family.

Today, April 3, 2014, I am writing my 299th blog post.  Today marks a milestone of sorts.

I have not only spent my day seeking stillness through reading, I am sharing my day via my blog.  Through blogging, I have welcomed others into my inner and outer world.  I did this quite by accident.  I could not have created this special community to which I belong through any sort of design of my own.  In some miraculous, serendipitous way, I have found myself a participatory member of the larger community.  When I seek stillness, or healing, or laughter, or support, or new insight, or friendship, I do so by sitting in the corner of my sanctuary at my desk.  Here, I connect to myself and to others across several continents by writing and by joining in the blogging community conversation.  How would I ever imagined all of this when I first heard the word blog?

And, so, as I prepare myself mentally for tomorrow's gallbladder surgery, and for the recovery time that I will have after the surgery, I find it interesting that I not only feel it necessary to tell my closest friends about the procedure, but I also find it important to share this information with my blogging community.  I hope to be back reading and writing soon.  In the meantime, know that your friendships have sustained me and enriched my life more than any of you could ever imagine.

Spring Has Sprung

When spring comes to the Rockies, we know what's coming next:

snow.

Who can complain when we see sights such as this?

Yesterday, as my husband and I drove out of our little village to enter the main road, we literally gasped at the beauty that had visited our part of the world overnight.  Every tree, every bush, every weed along side the road seemed to be a work of art.  The Master Artist had frosted the entire city.  Our drive down the main road was so beautiful that my husband stated that he had never seen blossom laden trees lining an avenue that could compare to the beauty of the frost covered trees that lined the main road into town.

The photo above was snapped quickly with my iPhone.  Later in the morning, as I walked out of church, the sky was more of light blue, the clouds were lifting, but the trees were still covered in frost.  I have rarely seen such beauty all over town.  I wanted to snap a photo of every tree I saw.  I hated to see the sun come out and melt the spectacular show that left me repeating the phrase, "This is just spectacular."  To my husband I said, "We could travel all over the world and never see  more beautiful sights than we have seen today in our own town."

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Spring Break

All of the schools in the area are on Spring Break.  We were teachers way too long not to join in the celebration that happens on the first Friday night of Spring Break.  We had a wonderful Mexican food dinner in a part of town where we rarely go.  On the way home, I asked my husband if he would like me to treat him to dessert at the old Ivywild School, an old school that has now become a brewery, bakery, and eatery.  Once there, of course, my husband headed straight to the principal's office.  He didn't stay though; the office is now the bar.

We bought some delicious cherry pie from the bakery and sat down to enjoy the ambiance and energy that filled the place while we ate our food.  I immensely enjoyed my time with my favorite principal.  (As you can see from the empty plate, he didn't like the pie at all.)

We have not made special plans for "Spring Break."  We had our break nearly two weeks ago when we went to Moab.  The time with family was invigorating in so many ways.  As I said in an earlier post, we went to Moab to watch Jim's daughters and son-in-law run a half marathon.

On the day of the race, the runners got up very early to get to the start of the race.  We slept through their leaving.  When we finally got up, my husband and I went downtown to have breakfast at an awesome cafe that my massage therapist had told me not to miss.  If you are ever in Moab, don't miss going to The Love Muffin Cafe.  I had their Verde which is slow roasted brisket, home fries, cheddar cheese, two eggs, and chili verde.  My husband had their whole wheat waffles.  He was a bit jealous when he saw my choice, so thankfully, he ate half of it while I had a bit of his waffles.  I don't know when I've had better chili verde.

After we were through eating, we went to the finish line of the race to watch our runners come in.  I got  intrigued with watching all the other runners.  I loved their determination, their spirit, and the energy they gave to the rest of us.  Concentrating intently on trying to photograph a woman who was running in a tutu, I completely missed seeing Jim's son-in-law.  Then I heard his name being announced as he approached the finish line.  Oppps  I got the tutu wearing runner quite well, but I only got

a photo of Brad's back.  There he is in green.

I did not see Jim's daughter Thia come in at all.  Soon, I saw Trinette.  I recognized her body and her run and knew it was her long before I could see her face.  (She is toward the right side of the photo dressed in turquoise.)

Soon she was in front of me.  Cheering wildly, I told her to smile for me.  She smiled and kept her eyes on the finish line.

Here are our awesome runners:  Thia, Trinette, and Brad.  

Here are the runners and the fans that came to cheer them on.  I sure hope they run this race again, and I hope next year my kids can make it too.  It was so much fun.

The runners were tired, but they wanted the kids to have some fun, so we all drove up the canyon along the Colorado River looking for a campground called Hittle's Bottom.  Brad told us the legend of how this place got its name.  It goes like this:

It seems that many years ago in pioneer times, Hittle, a young girl, was trying to cross the river and got stuck in the mud.  Those around her were able to toss a rope out to her.  She placed the rope around her waist.  Then, the other end of the rope was tied to a horse.  The horse pulled the rope.  Horror of horrors, poor Hittle was cut in half by the rope.  They never found her bottom.  It is still in the mud.

Poor Hittle.  We never made it to the campground, and we never found her bottom either.  Instead, because the wind was just terrible, and because the kids were tired, we stopped at a beach called Sandy Beach.  (That's a very original name, don't you think?)  We piled out of the car to play in the sand and toss some rocks in the river.  My true love and I did not make it to a sunny beach in Hawaii this spring, but we did make it to a beach.  

 I celebrated making it to a beach by lying in the sand.  Yes, I have a parka on, but it was sunny in this spot, and it was much warmer here than it was at home.

That evening, my husband and I left the runners and the rest of the family and drove back to Grand Junction, Colorado about one hundred miles away.  I had promised my mother I would return that evening in order to take her to church the next day.

After church, my husband and I took my mother to lunch.  I want you all to see this amazing mother of mine.  She will be 98 years old in May.  She lives on her own and gets around very well.  She is as sharp as she ever was. The next day was St. Patrick's Day, so she is decked out in her green.  We went to three different restaurants looking for corned beef and cabbage.  No one was serving it until dinner time.  Since we wanted lunch, we ended up having fish and chips instead.

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A Short Reflection

 I need this time away from home when we went to Moab.  I think my husband and I both did.  We needed to have a change of scenery.  We needed to be with family just having fun.  I was hungry for the sight of flowers.  Thankfully, I got to see the daffodils blooming and the forsythia in bloom.  I needed to feel the sun on my face.  

Mostly, I needed to remember that the race is won by those who endure the path set out for them.  The path may not always be down hill, in fact it may be up hill a lot of the way.  The wind will not always be at your back, but somehow, the runner finds a way to keep putting one foot in front of the other despite limitations.  My sweet daughter by marriage wondered what her running time would be like if she didn't have asthma.  She said she had to use her inhaler on the race.  To me, I am just amazed and proud that she ran at all with or without a limitation.  

I've learned many lessons from my mother.  At nearly 98, she says her legs don't work like they used to work, but look at her, she is still walking.  She is still involved in life.  She is healthy.  She laughs like she did when I was a girl. 

 I think the secret to a long and happy life is to keep on the path. Keep the faith.  Always hold fast to the hope that is within you.  Each winter of my life has come to an end.  Each spring, I have seen my beloved daffodils bloom.  They symbolize rebirth to me.  Thankfully, again, spring has sprung.  

Our Trip to Moab

This winter has been so hard for so many.

For me, it has been especially hard

mentally,

emotionally,

spiritually,

physically.

I think it was the endless sieges of ill health that assailed my body that caused me to think that those days when the mind, soul, and body are renewed and energized by warm weather and sunshine would never again occur.  

Several weeks ago, I bought three bouquets of tulips.

The snow swirled around my car in a blinding storm as I brought the flowers home.

Once home, 

dressed in my snow  boots, and my warmest down filled hooded parka, I carefully made my way across the street to deliver a bouquet of tulips to my neighbor who had been housebound for weeks.  

Independent, a lover of dogs and of flowers,

this neighbor had slipped in the middle of a city street and broken several ribs.

The injury had left her unable to do much of anything.

I knew she needed flowers as much as I did.  

Once home, I arranged a few bouquets to brighten my own home.
Outside the kitchen window, the trees covered with snow provided a beautiful backdrop for the tulips and for the springtime flowers sent to me by my son for my birthday.

With flowers such as these in the house, spring could not be far away, I told myself.

The snow from this storm quickly melted.

But the earth near our home did not give me any indication that spring was coming.

I needed greenery.

I needed to see some yellow daffodils,

or some yellow forsythia.

I needed to feel the sunshine.
I needed a change of scenery.

Months ago,
my daughter had wanted to run a half marathon to celebrate a milestone birthday.
Most of my children and all of Jim's decided they would run with her.
Unfortunately,
life got in way for her, and she could not run,
nor could my other children because of injuries from training.
Jim's daughter's and his son-in-law trained all through the
long,
cold,
wet,
and windy
winter.
We wanted to make sure we supported their efforts,
so last week my husband and I left our home and headed to Moab, Utah.

As we drove over the high mountain passes where snow was piled higher on the sides of the road than I remember seeing  it in a long time, I began to wonder what the coming of spring would mean to the high country.
With all that snow, I worried about the danger of flooding as it melted.
Not even believing that I was expressing the sentiments I felt in my heart, I said to my husband,
"I hope we have a cool spring without any early warm days."
My head and heart knew that it would be best for all if we did not see a rapid melt of all that snow.
Still, I longed for a sign of spring.

Once we were on the Western Slope of Colorado, green began to appear.
I'd hoped my mother's daffodils would be blooming as a way of greeting me to her home.
We were a few days too early for that, but one bud had a slight yellow tip.
"There is that sign of spring I needed," I thought as I walked to my mother's front door.

We only spent one night at my mother's home.
The next day, following her suggestion, we traveled Highway 128 to Moab, Utah. (click on the link to see more about this highway and see photos of it.)
We stopped along the side of the road for a moment because my husband got a phone call.
With spotty cell phone coverage, he decided to stop and take the call where he had a good signal.
This provided the perfect opportunity for me to stretch my legs, and so I stepped outside the car and took a photo of the desolate land before us.

At this point in the journey, my husband, who had never been to Moab, or traveled this route, probably wondered why I had said this would be a beautiful, scenic route to take.
If you look at the base of the mountains, you will see the mesa like landscape that are the magnificent rock formations that are near Moab, Utah.

When we came to the place where the road crossed the Colorado River,
we saw the remains of the old Dewey's Bridge spanning the river.
I asked my husband to park the car in the Dewey's Bridge Campground.
This is the view of the rocks that are on the other side of the river from the river.
I had to get out and walk now that we were in a beautiful setting.
Just look at that sky.  What a beautiful day it was.

  As we approached the bridge, I couldn't help but think how great it felt to again be out walking in air that was warm on ground that was beginning to show signs of spring.

Built in 1916, the Dewey's Bridge has a wonderful history.
The wooden plank single lane bridge was the longest suspension bridge west of the Mississippi River when it was built.
It held many memories for travelers to this part of the country before it was burned down in 2008 by child playing with matches.

Photo from internet

One can only imagine how intriguing it must have been to cross this once great bridge.

Cow now graze under where the planks of the bridge were supported by this suspension system.
(Do you see the black cows just right of center towards the bottom of the bridge?)

Jim took my photograph near the bridge site. Can you see how happy I am to be out in the warm sunshine?

This part of Utah is so beautiful and unique.  If you ever get a chance to travel Route 128, take it.
I didn't take many photos, but here are a few.

Moab, Utah is a destination place for bikers and hikers.
It is also the setting for the Moab Canyonlands Half Marathon which is held every spring.
As we drove closer and closer to Moab, we began to sense the great excitement that others who had been training all winter must be experiencing.
All along the river, camps where very hearty runners would spend the night before the big race were being set up.
I can't imagine sleeping on the ground in a tent before running a half marathon the next day.
Can you?

It was quite easy to determine where the race would begin.

Porta pottys were being set up to serve the hundred of runners who would be transported by bus to this area the next morning from Moab.  From this starting place, the runners would run 13.5 miles on Highway 128 along the Colorado River back to Moab, Utah.

I can only imagine how exhilarating this race must be.

Once we got to Moab, I thought I might try to pick up the race packets for my children even though they weren't going to be able to run the race.
They had paid the registration fee, and I thought they might want the cool shirt that was in the packet.
That way they could wear the shirt and pretend they ran even when they didn't.
Seriously, the shirts were very nice, and one can always use another shirt to run in.
I was able to pick up four packets for each of my four runners that did not make it.
I took the four energy bars that were inside as payment for picking up the packets.

I could not believe how good I felt in Moab.
The altitude of a little over 4,000 feet meant that I could sleep without oxygen.
I could walk and not suffer from tachycardia.
The sunshine helped to lift my mood.
It seemed we had truly left winter behind.

We spent the night a large rented house with the family members that had actually showed up to run.
(My children really did have good reasons why they couldn't run, I just wish they could have made it.)
Jim's two daughters and their families were there with us.
Jim's oldest grandson and his fiancé also stayed with us.
It was great to meet our soon to be newest addition to the family.
Aren't they a cute couple?

We had eight adults and five children in the house.
Jim's daughters made a wonderful pasta dinner for us that night.
The next day was the big race.
More on that later.

Interesting Rock Formations in My Neighborhood

On a recent morning walk, I took some photos of some of the interesting rock formations near our home.  Since I was a child, my imagination has always been activated when I look at rock formations.  In Colorado, we certainly have a lot of famous rock formations.  The Kissing Camels in the Garden of the Gods come to mind.  Perhaps this is why I grew up naming the outcroppings that dot various parts of Colorado.  Last week, without really looking for anything in particular, I happened to see an interesting formation across the road from where we were walking.  Can you see what I saw?

Here is another shot of the same hillside.  Can you see the horse head?  It is a palomino (orange or gold) color, and is located in the center of the photo below.  (I only had my iPhone with me.  I will have to try to get a shot of this on another day.)

Just up the road, from the horse head, I found the perfect spot for a photo shoot.  Jim and Boston posed in front of this rock which is actually right on the corner of a block in the subdivision near where we live.  A house is right behind the rock.  I could probably fool you into thinking we were out in the mountains somewhere when this photo was taken.  

The area where we live has many of these outcroppings of rock.  Their unique shapes have fascinated me since childhood.  Some describe various rocks such as the rock below, as mushroom rocks.  I call this one a table top rock.  This particular rock is located about a block and half from our house on the hillside next to a public park.

Boston, usually on a leash, gets a bit of freedom in the park since no other people or dogs are around on the day we took our walk.  He soon found his favorite rock and perched himself upon it. 

Before long, he was off running into the play area of the park.  I walked along at a more leisurely pace and continued to study the rocks on the hillside.  Up on the top of the hillside, in the middle of the trees, I thought I saw a coyote.  Or was it a rock?  Can you see it?  The formation is near the center of the photo between the trees.  I really could not tell at first if I was seeing a live animal or a rock formation.  After moving my position a few times, I could clearly see it was a rock.  (I told you I have a vivid imagination.)

I have my favorite formations near my home.  This one is an outcropping at the end of my block.

Here is another shot of this rock.  I keep thinking that perhaps the grandchildren and I will walk up here and spread out a tablecloth and have lunch on the top of this rock someday.

One evening this past fall, I ran outside to try and capture a beautiful sunset.  I was too late to get the shot I wanted, but I thought this one was quite nice anyway.

As I leisurely walked home with my camera in hand, I notice a small herd of deer nearly hidden from my view as they grazed in hillside grass at dusk.  My shots of the deer were unsuccessful.  As I tried to get a shot of the animals, I noticed the sight below in my viewfinder.  I didn't notice this interesting nighttime scene with my naked eye.  Do you see that giant cat sitting next to the tree?  (Do you ever see things differently through the viewfinder of your camera?)
I am quite frustrated by blogger right now.  The photo I took at night of this formation is quite dark and spooky.  I can't seem to post it without blogger correcting the light on it.  Any ideas on why this happened?  My photo is very dark with black shadows.  This photo below is nothing like my original photo.

I'd hate to see this huge black cat on Halloween night.  I thought the figure was a bit scary looking.  

The next day, I went back to the same spot to get a photo of this same rock in daylight.  I think she, yes, this rock is a she, is a beautiful marmalade colored cat.  (Jeanie, of The Marmalade Gypsy, this rock is for you!) To the rest of you, this formation may look like a rock, but to me, she is the cat that protects the neighborhood.  

Here is a daytime shot of my two favorite rocks grouped together. 

  

You may think I live out in the woods.  The beauty of the place where I live is that the woods surround me.  I can be walking in the most beautiful peaceful surrounding within minutes of leaving my house.   After I gaze upon my beautiful rock table and cat rock at the end of my block, I can turnaround and head down the road toward home.  

This photo was taken last fall.  My home is the first one you see on the right.  The porch light is on.  The red truck bed is just to the right of my home.  This photo was taken one half block from the photo of the cat rock.  

I hope you enjoyed seeing some of the interesting sights in my neighborhood.