I Can do This

 

Years ago, when I was in my thirties, oh my that was ages ago actually..... Well anyway, I had a mantra that kept me going when I was on a journey with Weight Watchers. I would say to myself, sometimes out loud about the changes in eating, "I can do this, I will do this." To which I would add also, "With God's help." I knew I couldn't do it alone, this way of eating better, portion control, changes in habits. It did work, and with lots of determination, I hit my goal. (Which of course didn't last forever and ever....but that's not what this little story is about.)

Last week I had blood work. With the online wonder of the My Chart app, we are now able to view things about our health long before a doctor gives us a call. We are floundering looking things up sometimes, imagining all sorts of frightening scenarios and planning our demise. 

I've been a bit of a basket case lately. There have been several things going on in my little world which have taken a toll on my mental and physical state. I have turned to comfort in a few different ways, but one of them has been eating too many sweets and salties. It's easy when we have a table piled high at work with bags of chips, homemade brownies, boxes of donuts from adoring patients, and worst of all, a container of my true weakness: Helluva Good French Onion Dip. Come on people, don't tell me your mouth isn't watering this very second thinking about that one. There are times I dreamed of polishing off a small container.

Sitting at my computer last night, I typed in the results of my recent blood work. Lots of good numbers and green checkmarks etc. "Hey," I thought. "I'm doing pretty well." Until page two. There it was, the dreaded number which showed high cholesterol. My stomach did a slow flip; my palms began to sweat and my heart speeded up a bit. "No!!! I don't want this!" I like my treats and sweets and eats. I'm going to have to make healthy changes if I want to avoid medication.

Okay, I admit I had a small party of pity. I scrolled and scrolled, reading up on healthy foods. I realized there are things I have to cut out entirely and bring in the crunch of vegetables and fruits, and say goodbye, or at least see you later to pastries, etc.

Mom and Dad had high cholesterol and I know it is often inherited. But I also know that I was running amok in my level of anxiousness with delicious treats to comfort myself. So, I wrote out a plan, I am starting today. My doctor put me on an anti-anxiety/anti-depressant. I want to live a long and healthy life for my loved ones. I want to feel good in mind, body, and spirit. I have to avoid the kitchen at work. I have to say NO to some things right now and make the time for a few extra minutes of exercise as well. I'm not fooling myself, there will be an occasional treat.

This is not a shaming post for me or you. There are times we have to allow ourselves some grace when we've been through a rough patch. But this is something I must do for myself and as I said those many years ago: "I CAN do this, I WILL do this. With God's help."

Dead Things Come Alive

 

No, this isn't an early Halloween post. I'm not writing about Zombies or anything of the sort. I'm talking today about nature and the parallel between the destruction of the storm we had several months back and life.

We huddled in the kitchen together as the winds roared outside. The power flickered and then went out. A darkness that would last a couple days. When I looked out the window after the passing of the storm, I noticed something odd. The landscape in our backyard, the horizon of trees, so to speak were gone. Where full, green, towering trees once stood, it looked like splintered toothpicks. Branches and whole parts of them lay on the ground; our fence was demolished, our shed, gone. My heart sank. Never before had we had such devastation, yet I knew we were more fortunate than most. Our house was standing, and we were unscathed.

Time passed, and though the view into the back of the house was forever changed, I began to get used to seeing it that way. Several kind people, helpers, came and cleared trees and removed our shed. We were very blessed with the amount of help we had. 

There's a little window in my upstairs bathroom and when I have it open, I was still able to see the tops of the broken trees. I didn't like the look of the jagged, ugly, lifeless things. What about the birds? I thought... They loved those trees and probably had beautiful nests every summer filled with their babies. Now everything is dead.

Until it wasn't. Looking out that little window this morning, I almost gasped. For where the tops of the pointy, toothpick-like trees were, hundreds of green leaves grew upon the trees again! How I'd missed the "growing back" part is beyond me. I think I'd been so used to seeing something unsightly that I hadn't noticed the miracle. Dead things come alive! 

So the trees grew back! And we can too my friends! For aren't we dead inside sometimes? Aren't we like the broken trees after a good wind of despair whooshes through our lives? Aren't we waiting and waiting for beauty to come again? We may bend, and we may even break a little, but it's the persistence of prayer and hope in the Lord that will get us through. Good friends, great talks. Small things we enjoy. Lovely music, a good book. And then all of a sudden, our leaves grow back. Our heart is restored! May it be so for you and me dear ones.

The yard after work was done, fence repaired, shed taken down. And the beautiful green trees once again!

This photo was right after the storm.

Creativity Healed Me

 

Only four months after the loss of my dear boy cat, Rocco, his littermate sister Bella went downhill quickly and we lost her the day after Thanksgiving. I never realized the bond between human and feline could cut so deeply after ours was severed. 

When Rocco passed, Bella seemed to look around for him for the longest time. Then I ordered a "cat pillow" with his picture and she took to sleeping right by it on the couch. Who knew that a cat could suffer a broken heart as well? Bella's depression turned quickly into ongoing health issues for her. Right at the time when my husband landed in the hospital this past fall, Bella began to exhibit some scary behavior. She barely ate, she seemed to have other stomach issues. One thing didn't change and that was her need to be in my arms. 

When I read or crocheted on the couch, Bella would always walk by scoping the situation. If I motioned for her to jump up, she would join me. But she was a lap cat and eagerly let me rock her like a baby when I put my book or other project down. She would gaze into my eyes as if trying to memorize my face. I spoke sweetly to her and told her how much I loved her but I began to have a terrible feeling.

Only one thing seemed to draw me out of a constant worry for my husband and Bella. I began some simple craft-making at the time. Just silly bookmarks at first, but then my passion developed into card-making and watercolor painting. Before too long, I found that stress seemed to float away, at least for an hour or so while I crafted. It appeared that creating something pretty created a much better me.

Though my Bella was comfortable, I knew that there would come a time that she would whisper in my ear that she was ready to join her brother. I truly thought I'd have her for several more years, but Bella said differently. She fell asleep in my arms at the vet's office the day after Thanksgiving. My heart cracked into two pieces and the tears flowed for a time.

Paper hearts, pretty Christmas glitter, and little baubles began to seal the fracture that ran along my own heart. As I shared the items with others, people told me to continue and cheered my beginning efforts at crafting. Bella was never more than a thought or prayer away from me, but my hands busied themselves with glue, scissors, and all sorts of pretty papers. The hands that petted and held a beautiful cat now began to make beautiful things. 

I miss two beautiful cats. I miss them with everything inside me. Their love remains with me as I sit near the two pillows with their precious faces. As I craft, I hear myself singing silly cat songs to them or calling them by the pet names reserved for special times. Rocco will always be my "Boy Oy Oy." And Miss Bella will always be "My Girlfriend!"

I will continue to make sweet little gifts for people and maybe someday I will even sell some of these things. I will enjoy every precious moment of crafting and thank God for the gift of healing that came along with it.

My beautiful girlfriend, Bella.

My little sweetheart's memorials.

Bella's pillow.

Bella cuddling with her brother's memory pillow.

Some of my latest creations:

Write Off a Whole Year?

 

Never one to "write off" a whole, year, I'm the type that can usually find good in most situations. That was until September hit with a BANG! 

My birthday month of August had just passed. As usual, I milked every precious day of it. We took fun drives, went to Kennywood park with my son. I got accolades and nice gifts. Yeah, I'm one of those. I am a kid at heart who literally tries to enjoy the whole month no matter how old I seem to be getting.

September began quietly until the afternoon my husband got a bad case of the hiccups. He held his breath, he drank tons of water. Nothing helped. Finally I knew we'd have to go to the emergency room. Such an odd thing, but it had gotten a little scary.

While at the hospital, the doctor ran the usual bloodwork and it was found that my Jim had extremely low sodium levels. Actually, quite scarily low. He was admitted into the hospital and stayed for four days. I had just begun a new job a few months prior, so my days were spent between running to visit him in the morning, head to work for a few hours, and then run back to be with Jim at night. During this time, I also noticed my cat, Bella acting strangely. She mostly stopped eating and drinking, yet still seemed to enjoy my company. We'd only lost her litter mate and brother Rocco only two months before.

While Jim remained in the hospital, it took a while to get his sodium levels back to normal. Too fast would be dangerous. And they changed up some medications he was on, completely cutting him cold turkey off of some of them. It did not sit well. I saw changes in my husband that began to scare me. He exhibited signs of confusion and anger. I never thought to ask the nurses about the meds at that time. The hiccups had gone away with medication the first night Jim was there, but all the water-drinking trying to rid himself of them, seemed to have caused the dangerous sodium issue.

When my husband returned home, my stress level soared. His new medications and behavior were foreign to me and I had to adjust. My Bella cat continued to get worse. Working full time, worry for Jim and my cat, I was consumed with anxiety. I began to lose my joy and felt bitter and depressed.

We are praying people and that never stopped. Jim was nervous from all he'd gone through, and his neediness made me weary. I wanted to be a good wife and asked God to please, please give me the strength I needed. I also talked with God about my Bella. "Please Lord," I said. "It's too soon after losing her brother. Don't take my girl away from me too."

It took almost two months but little by little Jim's behavior changed for the better. He seemed to finally be adjusting to the new medications and lost his fear and confusion. But we had to make the sad decision to say goodbye once again to a precious pet. Only four months after her brother, Bella crossed the Rainbow Bridge. I held her in my arms while she still purred for me. My eyes were the last she saw, and my scent, the last thing she smelled before she slept. 

As Christmas approached, I felt grateful for so many things. The year hadn't been a complete disaster. There had been moments of fear and sadness, but just as many moments of goodness, joy, and answers to prayers.

As I write this, snow is falling heavily and so beautifully outside my window. Small twinkling fairy lights are on in every corner of my home. My watercolor paints, soft yarn for crocheting, and paper crafts beckon me. Jim sits nearby enjoying solitaire computer games. We are very blessed.

I Tried Beating My Friends at EVERY Carnival Game! (IAAPA 2024 Part 2) Arcade Matt!

The Little Stool

 

The other night my niece asked my brother about a stool that had been in our family for many years...

Were you excited little stool the day the man and woman brought you to your new home? You had recently been discarded, unwanted, no longer useful; put out at a curbside yet someone saw in you what you could become.

The man and the woman brought you into their home and into their kitchen, a place with wonderful sights and aromas. It was always warm and cozy in that room, and it was there you would find your permanent place under the table.

They painted you white, a color that befitted your position. You wouldn't be like any other seating; you would always shine.

The man and woman spent many hours in this room, your room, and they talked and laughed and made plans and listened and loved. The woman cooked and sang. Music was everywhere in those days and it was happy, always happy.

When others would come to visit, you felt useful because your family, as you would come to think of them, never had enough seats and some truly lucky person would choose you and sit at that wonderful table, the place where talk and happiness lived.

Sometimes, they put books and papers onto you, little stool, important things that needed to be gone through and you felt useful and oh so happy.

You listened to stories, oh so many tales of times past and sweet hope for the future. You saw two children grow up and then become replaced by two little girls who would fight for who might sit upon you. And you felt proud--proud to be chosen and adored.\

You watched little craft projects, paints, dollhouse furniture, and pumpkins to be decorated. You proudly  held a warm body when that huge meal came once a year, the thankful holiday. You saw twinkly lights being untangled and listened to cheerful music at the colder time of the year; the time with the presents and love all around.

After a while, your man and woman began to age. They still sat near you, still talked, but it was different somehow. Maybe even a little sad. Sometimes there wasn't anyone to sit on you, to know how much you wanted to be useful. And time passed.

One day the man didn't return and a short time later the woman didn't either. That was the loneliest time for you, the waiting, waiting, hoping, watching. What would happen to you, little stool?

Then the boy, now grown came with a family of his own. There was life again and you were put back to work, the bonus seat for new meals, new conversations, new music, new stories.

One day, the little girl, slowly becoming a young lady, asked about you, little stool. She wondered where you came from and how long you had been with the family who'd loved you so much. The dad and his sister knew you had been around for a long, long time. They knew all you'd seen, all you'd done for their family. They appreciated you and they were happy for the day that the man and woman had chosen you. They knew you had heard much and seen much in your time with them. They loved you and they would always have you.

Jumbo's Adventure

 

After a rough day at work, talking with dental insurance companies, having claims denied, dealing with disgruntled patients, I drove home in a sour mood. I felt sorry for myself and shut off the radio. No music could cheer me.

A few blocks from home, I saw a picture tacked to a wooden pole that advertised a lost cat. The sweetest black and white cat stared at me from the photo. Poor little guy. His name said ‘Jumbo.’ It appeared the family was frantic and the closer I got to my house, more and more posters were stuck to poles in the neighborhood.

Well, Lord, I thought, that family has it worse than me. I knew what losing a beloved pet was like. As a little girl our dog Fluffy ran away. Please bless that kitty to find his way home. Bless the family to locate him.

My husband often jokes that I pray for everybody and everything. It was no surprise when I told him about the lost cat and how I’d prayed.

A postcard even came in the mail. Jumbo’s adorable picture looked out at me. There was a typed note stating that Jumbo was possibly in our area and to please look out for him.

Every day on my way to and from work, I found myself saying a prayer for Jumbo and his family. But weeks went by and turned into months. I never heard one way or the other about the outcome. It was a little disappointing to me, but then something happened.

My next door neighbor and I spoke the other day. She said that the lost cat had been coming around her house in the evenings. She had been feeding him, but unable to catch him. Another neighbor’s security camera had been going off the same time every morning as Jumbo stole a quick meal from the wall on his driveway. It was this man who finally caught the kitty and returned him to his frantic owner.

 I wanted to let Jumbo’s owner know how much I had been praying for him. It had touched me in a very special way that he’d been found, and I wanted to hear a little more about him.

She told me that Jumbo had walked several miles in our very busy town, crossed major highways and managed to be spotted in many different neighborhoods. Jumbo’s owner lived about forty minutes away and he had escaped accidentally while going to a veterinary office in my town.

She had frantically searched for him almost every single night after people began calling her to say they’d seen him in their yard. When he ended up on my block, his owner got to know many of the people and their precious pets.

I spoke with her about Jumbo’s big adventure and about how a huge town came together in kindness to help her to get him back.  Jumbo’s angel had been watching over him the whole time.

 (Photo credit: Internet)

 

I Got An Arcade Game Made After Me!

a

He was a shy, quiet kid. He was never sure what he might be good at. He had anxiety. But then.... he found something he enjoyed and made a living at it!

This is my son's journey and this arcade machine was made with and for him. It has sayings and his voice, it has graphics of some of the fun things Matt is all about in his YouTube videos!

This is one extremely proud and grateful mother. Son, I am beyond happy for you. May you always do what you love and make it a blessing in other's lives.

The Special Friendship

 

It has taken me several years to get this story just right. I hope you enjoy it.

The Special Friendship

The early August sun promised a beautiful day as I grabbed my laptop and headed outdoors to my porch to do a little writing. It had been a good summer. A major prayer had been answered for my father. For several years, I’d prayed a specific prayer for him. My parent’s old home was beginning to show signs of wear. The windows were rotting on the outside. Shingles needed replaced on Dad’s garage. A small back door roof had fallen down. Painting jobs were needed everywhere, inside and out. But the worst of it was my parent’s shower. The walls were beginning to cave in. It was unsightly, but I worried mostly about how unsafe it was for them. With Dad’s heart condition and some financial burdens, we couldn’t find help. I wanted to do something for Mom and Dad, but I didn’t have the finances either. I began praying deep, heartfelt prayers that somehow we would find help; something that would lift my father’s spirits and show him that God truly cared.

Earlier in the summer, my father came home from church with the weekly bulletin. A small article we could have easily missed was printed off to the side. It read: Catholic Heart Workcamp. Dad asked, “Do you think this is something for heart patients? Maybe some type of help for them?”

Normally I would have dismissed this as unimportant, or something that was meant for other people but not my family. However, a nagging feeling pushed me to contact them. Do this for your Dad, someone seemed to say quite persistently.

Oddly enough, the nicest people reached back out to me. They were a group of young people and mentors who raised their own money all year ‘round. They didn’t vacation in the summer, but spent their time doing free work for those with household needs.

God, is this truly possible? Would Dad qualify for this?

The answer was yes, and the kindest group of kids came for a week and repaired, worked, laughed and prayed together at my parent’s house. Everything was done to perfection. They even were able to repair the shower. When they were done, I hugged each one of them and began crying. They had been an answer to prayer; a true miracle.

That was why on the early August day, I found myself daydreaming as I wrote. A loud “Chirup” stirred me from my reverie. The most glorious male cardinal sat only several feet from me on the railing of my porch. He looked inquisitively at me, turning his head a little as he chirped loudly once again. I could see the beautiful black mask on his face and the deep red of his perfect feathers.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “I’ll get you something,” and went into the house for seeds.

On a small, flat feeding dish I placed seeds as the cardinal sat nearby. How odd, I thought. As if he’s waiting for me. He’d flown to a low branch in the crab apple tree of my front yard. One more “chirp” as if thanking me, and I moved away so he could eat in peace.

From that moment on, something wonderful happened. The cardinal came daily to the porch, making sure he was heard. He sang sweetly in the branches of a Rhododendron bush outside my front window. When I pulled into my driveway after work each day the male cardinal would land nearby. He seemed to come closer and closer. I spoke to him and he listened with his tilted little head and piercing dark tiny eyes. He sometimes sang for me on the spot as I talked.

I found it odd that we were developing such a unique relationship, this bird and I. Many people began to comment that he was an angel, perhaps. He warmed my heart with his presence and brought me joy with his song.

My father landed in the hospital later that same month. Though it had always been congestive heart failure, this time his gallbladder would be the culprit. Well, at least it’s something easy, I thought. But it wasn’t. Dad developed sepsis. We lost him several weeks later.

With my heart breaking, the male cardinal still came daily. Throughout Dad’s time in the hospital and even on the day of the funeral, he was there singing his sweet song for me, trusting me, and coming ever closer. When tears and grief enveloped me, I felt comfort and hope with this small miracle of nature.

He remained through the winter months, and one time I saw him feeding seeds to his lady bird. What a special caregiver, I thought. Just like Dad had been for Mom.

It was then that I realized God had given me a gift in the form of this amazing bird. Through all my sadness, I’d held onto a new friendship: The kind that could only have come from above.

The cardinal came often, throughout the next year. I even tried feeding him from my hand. He seemed ever so close to wanting to breach this gap between human and bird, yet he hesitated always at the last.

I lost my mother nine months after Dad once again in the summertime. One year since our family’s blessing with Catholic Heart Workcamp, and one year since my unique bird friendship.

One day, later in the summer while sitting outdoors with my writing once again, I heard the familiar “Chirp!” I looked up to see the male cardinal and four fuzzy brown babies sitting next to him on the stoop of my porch.

“Thank you, oh thank you,” I said to him. “I love your babies. Thank you for sharing them with me.”

I never saw him again after that. It seemed the cardinal had done God’s work. He’d gotten me through the death of my parents. He’d shared song, bonding, friendship, and his family with me. Now my yard is filled with other cardinals. I’d like to think they are all parts of my special friend’s family.

All reactions:

16Jim Malena, Vincent Alessi and 14 others

20

1

Share

The Best

 

Bright eyes bushy tail.

That was my boy, my beautiful boy.

Purring, cuddling, lying next to me.

Stretching, scratching the cat pad, throwing a toy around.

Once upon a time you loved a laser pointer, a milk cap, the scent of catnip. Soft blankets, sun puddles, cuddling your sister. You jumped so high to catch yarn. You jumped and caught a few flies too.

You never wanted to be held but we shared special time each night, such special moments next to each other. We watched movies and how you loved bird videos, cat videos, The Lion King.

When a storm was coming you would zoom through the house on white paws flying up and down the stairs. But the sounds didn't scare you. The heart of a lion was yours.

You washed your sister like a good brother, but then would pounce and make her hiss. Her tail was the best toy of all to grab as she pranced by. But you did it all gently. Nothing mean about you.

I called you my boy boy, and Wocky. I sang songs, silly songs to you and you blinked that slow loving blink that told me you loved everything I did.

How the treats made your whiskers twitch, and later, your churros. I never minded the few years of thyroid pills to keep you well, to keep you whole, to keep you.

Weight started to drop, energy level too. You couldn't make it onto the couch or into the tub to drink your morning water. We didn't meet on the couch any  longer and you chose to hide downstairs where it was quiet and calm. Though you greeted me when I looked for you and purred and purred when I rubbed those feline cheeks. Something was wrong. Something that might take you from me.

I knew it was time to say goodbye though. A good mom knows these things and she would never hurt you, never let you suffer, so she decided and it was hard, it was rough, it was sad. You purred when you saw me, you let me rub those kitty cheeks again. But our time was short and fifteen years wasn't long enough, no amount of time would have been.

There's a void, an empty place in our home, in my heart, as we go on without you and your sister looks for you.  

Your love wraps around me, your sweetness. And the fact that you made me better. I will love you forever my sweet sweet boy.