Non-fried, fried ice cream

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Just in time for Cinco de Mayo!! I first had fried ice cream at our favorite Mexican restaurant in Tampa, FL decades ago and have never forgotten it. Seriously, I still crave it. It was heaven! Soft vanilla ice cream tucked inside a fried shell, topped with cinnamon and drizzled honey – yum!

I’m not going to fry ice cream at home because, well, what a mess. And I don’t own a deep fryer, nor will I in the name of healthier cooking. šŸ˜‰

With simple ingredients it takes only a couple of minutes to assemble, yet boasts all the flavors of fried ice cream (and less fat since it’s not fried) whose taste has lingered in my mind ever since.

A few cooking notes…

Honey – Honey is the star of this show. As it drizzles over frozen ice cream, the cold turns liquid honey into a slightly chewy topping which resembles caramel, but a natural, healthy option. Its sweetness compliments the warm bite of cinnamon. Mmmm. I use local honey for the benefits of combating seasonal allergies. During covid quarantine I cannot get my regular, local honey so I found Local Hive Honey and it’s awesome! Whatever brand you use, make sure it’s raw, unfiltered, 100% honey. Otherwise, generic honey can have sugar in it although not listed in the ingredients because it’s considered a processing ingredient. What a sham! So don’t chince on the quality of your honey. You CAN taste the difference and your seasonal allergies will thank you.

Whipped cream – Use spray whipped cream (with real cream, not whipped oil), tub whipped cream (again, real cream, not whipped oil) or what I use, tub Tru-Whip (no oil, made with tapioca, a healthier, tasty substitute).

Ginger Snaps – The fried shell is replaced with ginger snap cookies. That’s the secret weapon. Leave them whole or crush on top, there’s no wrong way to enjoy this treat. And the cookie matters! Our favorite brand is Murray Ginger Snaps which is affordable and has that great *snap* we all want in a gingersnap. We don’t even use a spoon for this dessert. Use the cookies to scoop the ice cream…even better!! šŸ˜‰

Ingredients:

Vanilla ice cream

Ginger snap cookies

Cinnamon

Honey

Whipped cream

Directions:

Scoop ice cream into bowls

Sprinkle cinnamon generously over ice cream

Drizzle honey over ice cream

Add ginger snaps

Top with whipped cream

This is the perfect dessert to top your favorite Mexican meal or enjoy it by itself. Have fun with it!

 

 

 

Our Love Song

If Jesus wrote a love song to me, this would be it.
It is not a Christian song, per se, but it is *our song.*
~ Psalm 61; Hebrews 4:13-16~

John 13:25 is one of my absolute, very favorite Scriptures ever everĀ ever. I confess I’ve always been jealous of John in this moment; not in what he asks, but in his actions.

There is no other place in all of creation that I’d rather be than right there. I hold this place in my heart for now, but oh one day.

One day I will be in this place, this moment, for real. Tangible. Seen. Able to feel his warmth. Feel his muscles move as he shifts in his seat. Feel his chest expand and contract with every breath. To be so close to hear him inhale, exhale. Feel his hair tickle my cheek. My ear pressed against his chest, I feel the reverberation and hear the echo of his voice as he quietly hums our song. Feel the touch of his skin. Stroke the softness of his royal robe.

I reach for his hand and hold it in mine. I run my finger over the scar from the nail. I stare at his scar and remember what he did for me. I remember what I did to put that scar there. He senses my muscles tense and my palms begin to sweat. The weight of guilt and shame steals my breath and sorrow overwhelms my heart. He gently pulls me closer and strokes my hair. Without a word, his patient love and tender kindness tells me he would’ve done it all if only for me.

He regrets nothing.

I breathe a comforted sigh and close my eyes, my hand covering his scar.

And I rest in the feeling when you know you are completely safe, and you fold yourself into the one holding you. Guards down. Walls down. No words necessary. When you feel so safe you close your eyes and your soul exhales in a sigh of sweet contentment; drifting in and out of sleep.
Knowing fully that he has me and I am safe. I rest because he holds me. He who holds the whole world in his hands. He who carried the weight of sin for all time, holds me. His strength is safe. There is fullness of heart; not lacking anything.

To look into his eyes. His eyes of love and mercy bring hot tears to mine. We sit and look deeply into each other. He sees me. He knows. The real, raw, unfiltered, un-fronted me. And he loves me. The sweet smile in his eyes says, knowing everything about me, he loves me. The soft smile of his lips tells me that knowing everything about me makes him, in fact, love me…more.
I don’t have to explain anything to him. I don’t have to do anything but rest and receive. Receive his love. His friendship. His mercy. His brotherhood. His saving grace. To know I am fully known yet still… Accepted. Wanted. Cared for. Seen.
Loved.
Loved deeply.
Loved fully.
And time stands still. Nothing else matters. All grows dim. The only sound I hear is the beat of his heart. The heart that loved me enough to beat death and beat again. I lean into him and simply listen to the rhythmic melody of his heartbeat that will never stop playing our love song. I live this moment in my heart today and wait for it to be fulfilled in spirit, face-to-face. It will be the best moment in my entire, eternal life.

Not sure I wanted to share something so personal, but my hope is this song draws you closer to Jesus, too.Ā 

Tuscan Tapas

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Tuscan Tapas with Field Greens

Is it possible to have authentic Italian goodness, with robust flavors of balsamic, basil & garlic, in one small bite? Absolutely! These little guys pack a punch of flavor. Tapas are typically known for Spanish cuisine, but in this recipe the name captures a bold Italian taste.

This easy, make-ahead recipe combines two recipes with a twist. Seriously, you can make the Tuscan spread days ahead (flavor gets better with time) *and even freeze it.*

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Tuscan Bean Spread with Baguette; cutting board from Crate & Barrel

The pickled red onion recipe can be made up to a month ahead and gets better with time.

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Replace field greens with avocado for richer texture and flavor. The crunch of the baguette and pickled onion contrasts the creamy bean spread and avocado for a perfect blend of YUM.

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Tuscan Tapas with Avocado

Final assembly takes only a few minutes. I love recipes that offer a lot of presentation for little amount of work. This one is great for planning ahead or spontaneous cravings. It stands alone as a tasty appetizer as well as compliments a healthy meal.

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Tuscan Tapas with grilled Mahi-Mahi, rice, grilled pineapple, snap peas, and corn on the cob.

Tuscan Tapas

Ingredients:

1Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  baguette; sliced

1 recipeĀ  Ā  Ā Tuscan bean salad

1/2 bagĀ  Ā  Ā mixed field greens; chopped small

1 recipeĀ  Ā  Ā pickled red onion; diced

1-2Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  avocados; sliced * optional

Directions:

  1. Make the pickled red onion recipe. Let it sit several hours to overnight for full flavor. (Can be make up to a month ahead.) Refrigerate leftovers.
  2. Slice baguette and lightly toast.
  3. Make the Tuscan bean salad. Once made, blend it in a food processor until smooth with the consistency of hummus. (Can be made ahead, frozen & thawed.) Refrigerate or freeze leftovers.
  4. Plate baguette slices on serving plate.
  5. Spoon the bean spread onto baguette slices.
  6. Place chopped field greens on the spread. *Alternate Option: Replace field greens with slice of avocado.
  7. Top with diced, drained pickled red onion.

 

 

2020 Seniors, You Can Do This

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I’ve enjoyed looking at everyone’s senior photos from back in the day trending on social media. I also understand that although the intent is to encourage the Class of 2020 amidst the coronavirus quarantine, with a laugh at our expense, it could end up hurting as well as helping. In an effort to help, I’m adding my senior photo to the worldwide yearbook to offer hope for today’s graduating seniors.

Seniors, you can do this. You can graduate (however that looks) and go on to live a full and productive life reaching your goals and realizing yourĀ dreams.

Looking at myself in the photo, I don’t even remember my senior yearā€Šā€”ā€Šor 10th or 11th grade. I never attended one high school dance, including prom, due to crippling social anxiety. Pep rallies, extra-curricular activities, field trips, and basically anything outside of structured class time sent my anxiety into a tailspin.

Bucking tradition, I did not attend my high school graduation. Rather, I walked into the school office that summer and picked it up from the secretary who found it tucked away in a file cabinet.

Why did I skip it? I could not emotionally handle hearing classmates’ family and friends clap for them as they walked the stage; or seeing everyone take photos afterwards and enjoy parties for themselves and their friends knowing I didn’t have an audience for me. I was merely trying to find the strength to get out of bed and take a shower every day.

My mom was dying of breast cancer my entire junior year. I spent as much time at the hospital as I did in class. She passed away the summer before senior year, and twice divorced, there was no father in my life.

My grandparents and sister were grieving the loss of my mom as much as I was in their own ways. Frankly, I spent any extra energy apart from daily survival on trying not to fail math.

Years later, I found a letter from the principal congratulating me on my academic success of my senior year. I have zero memory of those days, so seeing I made honor roll was a shock. The letter was addressed and written to ā€œThe parents ofā€¦ā€

I was one of those students who fell through the cracks. The school evidently did not realize I had no parents and that my grandparents signed on as legal guardians to keep me out of foster care my senior year since I didn’t turn 18 until August after graduation.

My boyfriend broke up with me to date my best friend during my mom’s illness. Within a week of her death, life began to free fall and all I could do was watch frozen in horror.

As a minor, I had to legally vacate my childhood home and our belongings had to be sold in an estate sale to pay off family debt. I was forced to put down my 13 year-old dog (my 4th birthday present and BFF) because the stress of everything caused her to starve herself. She was emaciated beyond help and having to end her suffering was one of the worst moments of my life. My cat ran away, and the only mentor I had in the whole world announced they were moving out-of-state for a new job. Friends told me my life was a trainwreck and they didn’t know what to do with me.

I totaled my ’74 car (which had been my grandmother’s, then my mom’s, then mine), which meant losing my driver’s license and gaining a probation officer with community service hours to work offā€Šā€”ā€Šthe night before my mom’s funeral.

All of this happened the summer before senior year. I had nothing and no one except Christ, my sister’s hand-me-downs, and ironically, an empty hope chest.

I was devastatingly lonely, had no college fund to rely on, and began to struggle with an eating disorder as a result my mom’s deathā€Šā€”ā€Šwith which I still wrestle.

There is always a story behind theĀ smile.


I read a Facebook post regarding ancient senior photos floating around the world wide web which said today’s seniors don’t want to see others’ senior years in tact. *In tact* is a huge assumption.

No life is perfect. Every life has a story. It’s what we do with our story that paves our journeyĀ forward.


2020 Seniors, your grief is real. Your feelings are valid. Do not deny yourself working through the loss of your senior year. In your grieving, I encourage you to stay there only as long as necessary to heal.

Use grieving to help you take the next step forward.Ā 

From someone who spent more time wanting to die than live because of trauma upon trauma, with no coping skills or outside help, I can tell you that you get to choose what you do with this senior season.

You can let it destroy you, or you can tap into strength you did not know you have and lean on God in ways you did not think possible.
Not only can you make it through this, but you can emerge stronger, more determined and more focused than you ever imagined on what you want for your next chapter.

Want to know what I chose to do instead of attending my graduation? I got on an airplane with my (then) boyfriend and flew from Florida to New York to meet his family. Four years my senior, he served in the Air Force and his mandated leave time overlapped with my graduation.

I had a choice. I could either attend graduation, which highlighted what I didn’t have while unresolved grief & social anxiety swallowed me alive walking across a silent stage, or forego tradition and take a leap into my future to meet a family who I already knew would be my future family.

He and I celebrated 30 years of marriage last month. My decision then was absolutely the right call and I would make the same decision a million times again. They welcomed me into their family when I was 17 and I married at 19.

We worked hard. He worked day, swing, and midshifts full-time with full class loads and I worked two jobs and took day and night classes. We put ourselves through college debt-free with every cent we had plus scholarships and grants we earned. I completed my B.A. four years later. He completed his B.S. the year after.

We bought our first home when I was 21. A tiny foreclosure on a cul-de-sac, our nicotine-drenched, ripped wallpaper, nasty bathrooms, abandoned house needed a lot of love. It was our little nest, and we slowly remodeled it room-by-room while working and going to school.

If someone had told me only four years earlier at 17, when I didn’t know what home address to put on my high school contact card, that I would own my own homeā€Šā€”ā€ŠI wouldn’t have believed it.

If someone had told me when I skipped my high school graduation that I would go on to earn my bachelor’s degree and graduate on timeā€Šā€”ā€ŠI couldn’t have believed it.

What I knew that night, donning a black silky robe and balancing a mortar board on my head, as I waited to take my turn to walk the university stage with my husband, grandparents, sister and her then boyfriend (now husband) and our best friends cheering for me in the stands, is that God can most certainly redeem what was lost.

The loss may be irreplaceableā€Šā€”ā€Šas nothing could bring back my mom or replace everyone and everything ripped from my lifeā€Šā€”ā€Šbut if we stay in a posture of being willing to receive the gifts God has planned for us, and we continue to take a new step forward each day, then our hearts and lives can be genuinely full to overflowing with good things. Soul-filling, goal-accomplishing, dream-realizing things. Things beyond what we could ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20).

An awesome, fulfilling and rewarding life is possible after traumatic loss.Ā 

During my junior year of college, someone I highly respected flat out told me that I would never graduate. They genuinely did not believe in me and it broke my heart in ways that silently hemorrhaged for years. I chose to extend forgiveness toward that person, and felt a personal cathartic release proving them wrong, as I shook hands with faculty on the stage that night.

Moving my tassel from right to left was a symbol that I did it. God gave me the strength and work ethic and I used all of it to run through that finish line.

I skipped my high school graduation because I was embarrassed and overwhelmed that I didn’t have a traditional posse cheering for me. One thing I’ve since learned is me cheering for me was enough. Accomplishing a goal is personal. And when I walked the stage to receive my college diploma, I was eternally grateful for those who came to cheer me on, but most of all I looked to heaven and gave thanks to God that he completed a work in me and we did it together. (Phil. 1:6)

Everyone’s journeys looks different. My husband and I were blessed to rear three kids who have grown into amazing adult children whom I highly admire. They have my heart.

One out-of-state move, three houses, multiple jobs, and being blessed to live out our heartbeat for international missions and relief work, I never could have dreamed that God would raise up beauty from ashes in the brokenness of my life. All glory goes to him.

He is absolutely the God of the impossible and only asks we trust him and take the next step that he puts in front of us.


2020 Seniors, I know inconsolable grief. Overwhelming loss. Desperate disappointment. Uncertain futures. Gripping fear. Unquenchable loneliness. Paralyzing hopelessness. Catastrophic helplessness.

I also know that you have the choice to allow how much this surreal season affects your present and future. I know there is purpose for you. I know there is an entire world waiting for you. A world who needs you to do what you were born to do. And I know that you have the power to choose whether this season breaks or benefitsĀ you.

If you’re quarantining in your home with those you call family; food in your pantry; an education to continue online or otherwise; and you have one friend who misses you; and a sport, club, volunteering or work that you miss, then you already have everything you need to graduate abundantly blessed.

Embrace what you have. Trust God that he can work for your good if you give it all to him, including your grief. Choose to let this season make you better, not bitter.

Keep looking ahead. Keep stepping forward. Take Bruce Lee’s advice and ā€œBe water, my friend.ā€ You can do all things through Christ who strengthens you. (Phil. 4:13) And keep smiling, knowing the best is yet to come.

Black & Blue Salad, Modern

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I love the look of the classic wedge salad with tomatoes, bacon and blue cheese. Very swanky. Unfortunately, iceberg lettuce has practically zero nutrition. So I remade this salad into a much hearty, healthier version…and it’s addictive!

INGREDIENTS:Ā  Makes 6 entree-sized salads

1 pkgĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Center-cut bacon; cooked

1Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Orange pepper; fresh (not frozen), sliced with seeds removed

1Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Yellow pepper; fresh (not frozen), sliced with seeds removed

1/2Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Red onion; peeled & sliced

4TĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Grapeseed (preferred), vegetable or Canola oil

1 + 1/2,Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  10oz boxes 50/50 lettuce & spinach

2Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Crowns of fresh broccoli (crown = without the stalk, if there is stalk justĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  cut it off); chopped

8ozĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Mushrooms; sliced

1cĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Frozen peas; thawed

2Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Cucumbers; sliced

1/2cĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Roasted pumpkin seeds

1 cupĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Pecan pieces or halves

2 pintsĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Cherry or grape tomatoes

2 bunchesĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Green onions

1 1/2 – 2#Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Beef sirloin; cubed (use “Pan Frying” or “Stir Fry” quality beef)

Salt & pepper to taste for beef

Red wine (optional)

DRESSING INGREDIENTS:

2cĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Crumbled blue cheese

1/3cĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Mayonnaise

1/3cĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Sour cream

1/3cĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Buttermilk

1/3cĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Red wine vinegar

1/4cĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Onion; diced

3 clovesĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Garlic; minced

1TĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Sugar or Agave syrup

1/4tĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Black pepper

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DIRECTIONS:

  1. Cook bacon @ 325 degrees for about a half hour (flip bacon halfway through). Place cooked bacon on plate with paper towel so as to absorb extra grease. Set aside.
  2. While bacon is cooking, saute orange & yellow peppers and red onion in 2T oil on med-high heat on stove until they just start to blacken. Set aside.
  3. While bacon is still cooking, make the dressing – Combine dressing ingredients (except blue cheese) in a food processor or blender and blend thoroughly. Add blue cheese and mash together until well blended. Cover and refrigerate.
  4. Prepare remaining vegetables according to their descriptions above (chop, slice, etc).
  5. Using 6 large bowls, divide the lettuce into the bowls.
  6. Divide the remaining vegetables equally and layer on the lettuce beds.
  7. On med-high heat, cook the beef (salt and peppered) and 2T oil on stove until no longer raw or as you wish (it’s safest to cook meat completely through). It only takes a few minutes; do not overcook or the meat will be tough.
  8. Optional – add a few splashes of red wine to the beef and cook for another minute or two.
  9. Divide beef equally and add to salads.
  10. Drizzle dressing on top and serve immediately.

 

 

 

 

Easter during a pandemic – WWJD

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When decorating for Easter, we usually focus on the cross, the crown of thorns, the empty tomb…with some cute spring and bunny motif thrown in.
This year, while quarantining through the Easter season, I felt a nudge to accentuate a different moment in Jesus’ final days before crucifixion.

In John 13:1-17, Jesus washed his disciples feet. The humility in his posture toward those he loved. The grace he gave those he loved. The servant-heart he showed those he loved.

To follow the example of our Savior, I forewent the “prettier” Easter decor and set out a bowl filled with tap water and an ordinary dish towel as the centerpiece for our kitchen table.

It is a reminder to keep a servant’s heart, a me-second attitude, and a grace-filled posture toward our family who we’re now spending 24/7 with in a confined space.

God gave us a little devotion about it – to stay in the attitude of “How can I wash your feet today?” Maybe it’s praying for each other. Maybe it’s unloading the dishwasher or helping with yard work or turning down the tv when someone is trying to work.
Maybe it’s an encouraging word or hug. Or sharing a laugh or a joke to lighten the day.

However, in these stressful times of isolating from a world-wide crisis while juggling work, sick family, fears of the future, and the million things that keep us up at night, perhaps “washing each others’ feet” is NOT saying the irrational, negative, angst-filled words in the moment; NOT taking the stress and fear out on each other; maybe it’s what we DON’T say and do – the hurtful and not helpful – that best demonstrates Jesus’ point in these extraordinary times.

The bowl, water and dish towel sit in full view all day long. Every day. It’s a great visual of what Jesus did, KNOWING he was going to suffer and die, and is a reminder of how we can follow his example as we wait and wonder IF we will suffer and die.

Jesus’ life gave us all the tools we need to navigate this crazy world. Pandemic or otherwise. I might just leave this centerpiece out indefinitely so we never forget to love, serve and give grace to those nearest, our neighbors and the nations.Ā 
______________________________________________________________________

John 13:12-17 “When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. ā€œDo you understand what I have done for you?ā€ he asked them. ā€œYou call me ā€˜Teacher’ and ā€˜Lord,’ and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.”

Lessons from Nana…Stay grateful

Today (March 8th) is Nana’s birthday. It’s the first birthday that she is celebrating in heaven. It’s fitting that today is the first time I’ve written since she passed away.
Wrapping up a life is a process I’m happy to do and honored to get to do it. I cleaned out her apartment in a total of four days. Whew! Sorting it all is another story, lol. So much of what she had will be a tremendous blessing to others as the family agreed to donate most of it.

I had the distinct honor of receiving her ashes. The funeral home director was kind and soft-spoken and showed genuine compassion and empathy. It was a tender moment I will never forget. The last time I was at the funeral home I had to confirm her identification. It was surreal and obviously hard because of the nature of the task. But she looked so peaceful; just like she was sleeping. And after being with her in her last days, it was a gift to see her not suffering and struggling anymore. I choose to look at it that way. I stroked her arm and said, ā€œWe love you, Mom.ā€ It was an odd moment because, as a believer, I know she is no longer in her body. Still, it seemed fitting to pay my respects.

When the director gently handed me the small box of ashes meticulously wrapped in brown paper, I thanked him and tried to hide that for a moment it felt hard to breathe. I thought about all the times she and I drove in my JEEP to her doctors’ appointments; to breakfasts, lunches, and dinners; to our home for surgery recoveries, holidays and celebrations or just to hang out; to Walmart, the grocery store, and just to get an ice cream cone, her favorite.

This would be our last drive together. Instead of sitting next to me coloring her lips with lipstick or checking her hair in the mirror, recalling a fond memory, talking politics or writing her shopping list, this drive would be silent. I shook the man’s hand, said a final goodbye and walked outside. The cold, grey sky was blanketed in huge dark clouds and made the sky feel low enough I could touch heaven.

I tucked Nana’s ashes safely in the back seat and ran my hand over the smooth, brown paper. I touched her name on the label and whispered, ā€œLet’s go home, Mom.ā€
Arriving home, I carried Nana’s ashes upstairs where my father-in-law’s (a.k.a. Bompa) were and sat them next to each other. The world seemed strangely balanced once more. They will be laid to rest together this summer in New York. Their ashes are together, as I know today, they are worshiping the Lord together alive and well in heaven. Both truths comfort my soul.

The following weeks have been filled with phone calls, closing accounts, sorting through photos and paperwork and making plans. It has been busy indeed.

In moments of laughing at good memories and tears of missing Nana, I am reflecting on everyone who helped walk Nana to heaven. So much of those last months are an emotional blur, as I knew they would be. We think we won’t forget faces and names, but like a flooded river, there is too much emotion, too many decisions and too little sleep to retain it all.

In preparation for what was coming, I asked some of these special folks if they would take a selfie with Nana, or I take a photo of them, and grant me permission to post it publicly in an effort to say thank you and so we will never forget those who impacted Nana all of us.

On her birthday today, I count these photos as a celebration of life and love. Nana was never shy to shout, ā€œPraise the Lord!ā€ and gave God the credit for his many blessings. In the spirit of her grateful heart, and for the thousands of times I heard her sing, ā€œGod is so good, God is so good, God is so good, he’s so good to me!ā€ This is my grateful post. Grateful for those who helped Nana in countless ways and showed the love of Jesus with authenticity and joy. Our family is eternally grateful for each of you. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

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Dr. Shehadeh, you will receive a letter of thanks soon, but for now I want you to know Nana and our family owes you a debt we can never repay. As her oncologist, you helped us wade the deep waters of cancer with compassion and sensitivity. You treated her with dignity and respect. You listened. You made eye contact. You hugged her. You held her hand. She was not just another patient. I don’t believe you have any ā€œjust another patients.ā€ Your kind-hearted nature and sharp intellect helped us understand the Goliath she faced and how to deal with it. You kept us calm. You answered my millions of questions. You addressed her terminal illness with tenderness and reason. You are the best doctor I’ve ever worked with, and you were a big reason why we got an extra year with Nana. Thank you, thank you.

To RNs Demetrius and Melissa at Agape Hospice. You showed up every day. You cared for Nana in every way. You were our eyes and ears, hands and feet to do the hard tasks. We would have been lost without you. Because of you, Nana had the very best care, and your help allowed me to get some much-needed sleep so I could be there for Nana in other ways. We are indebted to you.

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To Dr. Grattan and your staff, thank you for being so attentive to Nana’s medical needs. Your P.A. who saw us in a last minute appointment caught the angiosarcoma in 2018 and her quick diagnosis was the reason she could have surgery and add another year onto her life. We are so grateful that you guys caught what the radiologist missed!! Without your expert insight, we would have lost Nana much sooner. Thank you for the gift of time. There are no words that can fully express how much we will awlays be thankful for you all.

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To Matt, Nana’s deacon from church. For two years you took Nana under your deacon wing and served her with love and compassion. Thank you for all your visits and phone calls. She loved your company and the chocolate milkshakes with which you surprised her. We appreciate you so much and ā€œThank Youā€ seems inadequate for all your time, energy and attention you gave; as well as to your wife and children who shared you with Nana.

To Med-Techs Melissa, Tamica and Jessica, thank you for giving your time, talent and love to Nana. You are the best at what you do! You were never too busy to help. You were always kind and caring. No task was too small, no question too insignificant. You helped Nana feel at home in the apartment she loved.

Melissa, the night we moved Nana in you changed my life. It was a long day of moving and settling her in and we were exhausted. I remember coming to end of my emotional and physical strength. Melissa, you popped in to introduce yourself. I said to you, ā€œThank for your help. I am doing all I can and often it seems not enough.ā€ You replied, ā€œWe’re happy to help! Don’t worry, we’ll take it from here.ā€ I broke down into tears. I knew Nana would be safe and cared for in ways she needed, and a wave of utter relief washed over me, largely because of you. Thank you.

Tamica, one of my favorite moments with you was when we needed an extra hand on the third floor, and you had just started your lunch break on the first floor. Without hesitation, and without the slightest attitude of being inconvenienced, you put the sandwich down, that you almost took your first bite from, and rushed right up. You don’t know this, but I saw when, after helping us get Nana into bed, you leaned in close – nose to nose – smiled and softly stroked Nana’s cheek to comfort her. It was the kind of caring family does for each other. I was beautiful to see. Thank you.

Teisha with Agape Hospice, you are incredible. Thank you for helping Nana with her personal hygiene. She was fiercely strong and independent and didn’t want your help. Still, you waited patiently nearby in case of an emergency. Stopping to chat with me in the hallway just days after her death, you took the time to share your memories of your time with Silly Salli. Thank you for asking questions about her life; showing Nana meant so much more to you than as just another client. You really wanted to know more, and your caring is precious to me. Learning about all the sweet moments you shared means the world to me. You sat with her and laughed at her stories. You danced with her while she sang her own music. Sometimes you were the first face she saw in the morning and I am so glad it was you. You told me about the day Nana accepted your help at last, and how you knew that was an indicator it was close to her time when she no longer struggled against your efforts. All of this helps heal our broken hearts.

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Thank you, Marie. We got to know each other well while rendezvousing in parking lots all over the city as you helped provide transportation to her appointments via her assisted living. Your heart is priceless! Not only did you help with the driving, but you did so with a joyful heart. You were always patient, courteous, kind and funny! Nana loved your sense of humor. Thank you for making the long drives from South Carolina to Charlotte fun and an adventure for Nana. You were a huge help to me as we tag-teamed literally all over the city to get Nana where she needed to be. Your help was invaluable to me. Your caring heart is a treasure to us both.

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To Stephanie who works in the dining room at Nana’s assisted living. Thank you for bringing light and smiles and joy to every meal. Thank you for knowing the residents by name as well as their preferences and allergies. Thank you for treating them like family. Your energy and positivity are contagious. Keep doing what you do. You are a bright blessing!

To the lovely young lady who took care of Nana’s laundry, and others we do not have a photo of, but are forever imprinted on our hearts – thank you. You loved Nana well. Your kindness is seen by God and I ask that he richly blesses you in return, in ways so personal you will know without a doubt that it is an extension of our gratitude for a job well done that went far beyond work. Thank you that Nana mattered to you as a person and you showed it in so many ways.

Thank you, Father John, for coming to see her one more time. You always bring a funny story, a joke and a smile. Your visit was a highlight to her, and we appreciate you coming by to hug and love on Nana. Your friendship dates back 50 years when you sold cars with Bompa in upstate New York. Who knew that Nana and you would reconnect as the presiding Father over the church she attended in New York many years later, only to wind up living right down the road from each other in South Carolina. It’s a small, small world, and you colored her world with laughter and joy for decades. Thank you for praying over Nana. Circling up to give her again to the Lord is a memory we will forever hold in our hearts.

To all my friends who loved on Nana, thank you! Thank you, Yvonne, Tonya and Gayle for keeping her company when we were out of town. Jean-Paul, Kim, Lisa, Frances and Ann, thank you for celebrating her 80th birthday last year with us! Thank you to all my wonderful friends who didn’t mind me texting all hours of the day or night requesting prayer for Nana. Every prayer, every text, every call, every visit, every act of kindness is deeply, deeply appreciated. I love you all.

On Nana’s birthday today, what can be a hard, hard day, is covered in what feels like a big hug of hearts and smiles of those who loved her well. We will continue to sing, ā€œGod is so good, he’s so good to me,ā€ and we will indulge in ice cream and raise a cup of coffee (her favorite pleasures) in her honor knowing she is fully alive, fully healed and rejoicing in the presence of the One who made her and allowed us to share so many birthdays with her. Nana’s life on earth may be over, but in heaven, the party is just getting started. Happy birthday, Nana! We love you. Save a piece of cake for us.

Lessons from Nana…Lean in

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I’ve been thinking about the last couple of months we had with Nana and am grateful that the Lord led us through those extremely emotional weeks, days and moments. I’ve grieved loved ones before, too many, and didn’t handle it well after they passed. I was a wreck after each one then and still feel the hemorrhaging in my heart over certain tender memories.

So why is this time different? Why do I still feel emotionally intact in a time of loss? Even with dealing with the stress of coronavirus all over the world (so far we are healthy, thank the Lord), I truly believe the peace and strength I have has a lot to do with preparing for her loss even before she died.

There are five stages of grieving in a time of loss be it a person, a job, a pet, a relationship, our health, a season of life, a sense of normalcy amidst our current coronavirus pandemic, or anything we value.

Loss = grieving. These are the five general stages of grief:
1. Shock and denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

Yet, if only life looked so ordered. The reality is that in grieving these five stages we work through in our loss, they don’t necessarily follow this order. Our thoughts, feelings and emotions can bounce around; we may feel more than one of these stages at the same time; we can get stuck in one stage and perhaps never move through it. But these are five stages commonly known to people when living through loss.

However, I’d like to take it a bit farther. I believe there is the option for pre-loss grieving…if we take hold of it. In order to pre-loss grieve, we must be open to it. We must face our own limits and be willing to push ourselves past them to see the larger picture of what is happening even while the storm is still on the horizon.

This is easier said than done. For most of us, stage one – shock and denial – sinks our head and hearts like emotional quicksand. We simply cannot accept the reality of what is happening. ā€œThis can’t be happening!ā€ are familiar words to us all. However, I challenge us to begin to consider the fact that it is, in fact, happening. If we let our minds and hearts be open to the notion ā€œitā€ is happening, then we can start to process the remaining stages of grief.

Why would we want to grieve something before it’s even happened? Why not hold on to life as we knew it for as long as possible before it’s ripped from our hands? Why not put off the inevitable? Because if we can acknowledge what is really going on, that the storm does exist no matter how hard we wish it away, then we can maximize the moments in preparation for what’s coming.

We can do this over a loss of job, home, relationships, friends, our health, etc. I am writing in the context of pre-grieving Nana’s death. I’d like to offer some steps I intentionally took to help me pre-grieve her loss and that can be applied to any type of loss.

1. Shock & Denial – This stage is very important for a huge purpose: It buffers our heart and minds from the full weight and measure of reality that is slamming into our lives like a fiery asteroid. We’re left with an enormous crater in our souls and we have no idea how to begin to process what just happened. Shock and denial run interference between us and the situation. God built this first line of defense in us so we can continue to breathe while we’re stunned by this gaping, smoldering hole (the reality of impending loss) in our hearts, minds and lives as we prepare for the loss itself.

One way to work through shock and denial is to ask questions – Everyone is different and we have different thresholds of what we can endure and when. For me, it was very valuable to attend her doctor’s appointments. I asked a million questions and being able to talk to the doctors helped me process the nature of her health. It forced me to see her new reality and acknowledge its existence. It led me to wrap my head around the shocking prognosis that her cancer had returned and it was going to take her life.

Even still, aftershocks remained as the months passed. Moments of, ā€œI can’t believe we’re at this point,ā€ still broadsided me when I least expected it as her illness progressed. I allowed myself to have that moment but wouldn’t let my thoughts stay here. Forcing myself to have eyes wide open to what was happening opened the other doors of my heart and head to pre-loss grieving which greatly helped me take care of her.

There may be moments when we block out what’s happening altogether (which is okay unless you are responsible for the safety or medical help of yourself or someone else). Do what you need to do to have as few regrets later as possible; but do everything within reason.

If you’re having debilitating difficulty recognizing what’s happening, get help. Staying stuck in shock and denial robs you of the opportunity to prepare for the impending loss. It also robs you of moments that could otherwise be made to maximize time left to make memories, mend hearts, make things right and find peace with what we never wanted.

2. Anger – Anger is perfectly natural. It gives us adrenalin to energize us for the task of accepting what we do not want to accept. It helps us channel the physical and emotional responses to loss. Picture a frying pan on the stove heating on high. Without adding something to the pan, the heat would eventually harm the pan or worse burn the house down. Now picture adding butter, oil or water to the pan. Instantly the pan channels the energy from the heat to the element added to it. Anger over loss is the same. It’s our water, oil or butter. Releasing anger in healthy, productive ways diffuses the thoughts, emotions and physical responses to not only accept the loss that is coming, but also the loss that is already in play.

When my mom was dying of cancer when I was 16, we moved into my grandparents’ home so they could take care of her. I felt angry that she was getting so much attention. Did I mention I was 16? Most teenagers are extremely myopic on a good day, and factor in I couldn’t begin to accept that I was going to lose my only parent, yeah, I was a hot mess. One morning I opened the refrigerator to get something to drink. I reached for the carton of orange juice when a family member said to me, ā€œDon’t drink that. That’s your mom’s.ā€ I replied with sarcasm in an effort for much-needed attention, ā€œOf course it is, everything is hers.ā€ My words and attitude didn’t go over well at all and were sharply chastised. Looking back, I see two people who both weren’t handling her illness well and took it out on each other.

This time with Nana, I allowed myself to feel angry. Anger towards the disease; anger for the loss over moments we weren’t going to enjoy; anger about ways I felt her illness cheated us out of time and experiences; anger that she had to endure this horrific, awful type of cancer; anger at watching my husband’s (her son) heart break for her; anger at the constant needs cancer demands to have met.

Be real. Be honest. Be raw. Acknowledge the anger. If not, your pan will only keep heating up until it either melts, busts into two, or catches everything around it on fire. Be responsible in your anger. My husband and I agreed in the beginning of this journey that we may not always have patience or tolerance for life or each other. We acknowledged we were going to need grace for each other. Ephesians 4:26 says, ā€œIn your anger do not sinā€¦ā€ If you do, make it right. We’re not perfect, but we do have to own our actions and words.

Some ways to release anger:

A. Vent – There were times I had to get words out of my heart and head. I needed freedom to express all kinds of thoughts – empathetic and selfish – to a few trusted sources. Tell them first that you’re venting. Say, ā€œI just need to say this. I don’t want you to fix anything or offer advice. I don’t need you to encourage me or tell me it’s going to be okay; I just need you to listen.ā€ That helps them understand their role. They aren’t the fixer; they are the listener. Trust me, it will save you countless arguments. If you don’t have anyone you can vomit your thoughts and feelings to, look for a grief support group in your community or online that deals with your type of loss.

B. Journal – Need to say some thoughts that you don’t want anyone else to hear? Write them down then throw them away. Ripping them up gives even more satisfaction. Or keep them in a private place to revisit as you move through the stages of grief.

C. Physical exercise – is a great stress and anger reliver. Not only does it channel all that penned up energy, but it also releases endorphins that help boost our mood. Outdoor exercise is even better as fresh air and sunshine truly does a mind and body good.

D. Play music – Granted I may have given myself slight hearing loss over the course of her illness because I played my music a bit loud to drown out my thoughts, the music hit notes, kept the beat and offered a rhythm that struck a chord with my heart and head. It can be our voice in expressing emotions for which we have no words or energy to express them.

E. Know your limits – Need a minute? Take one…or two. Responsibly take more if needed. We all need an escape hatch for momentarily solitude, a time to collect our thoughts, clear our minds, and re-center ourselves. It is not selfish to take time alone. It’s necessary to maintain your mental and emotional health. Think of time alone as gas for the car. When you feel your tank is empty, you need to put some alone time in it or eventually the car won’t move until you do.

F. Pray – Last, but most important, pray. Yes, pray when you’re angry. There’s no one who understands what you’re saying better than the One who created you and understands you even better than you understand yourself. Praying when I’m angry isn’t pretty. It’s a word scramble of disjointed thoughts, opinions and feelings. It’s emotional. It can be downright ugly. My fits can rival that of a nuclear two-year old. But the best part about praying through anger with God is there is zero judgment.

Psalm 139:23-24 says, ā€œSearch me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.ā€ God wants to help us. He’s not looking for moments to strike us with lightning, but he does help keep us from going too far. When we give it ALL to him, the Holy Spirit acts as our guard rails to keep us from driving our mental car right over our emotional cliff.
Hebrews 4:15-16 reminds us, ā€œFor we have not a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one (Jesus) who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.ā€

3. Bargaining – This is when we try to make deals with life, God, ourselves, others, and even the situation to try to change the circumstance or outcome. Again, God built this into us to help buffer the weight of the reality that has broadsided our lives. It’s a coping skill for when we are trapped between shock & anger and depression & acceptance of what is happening. It’s the halfway point, if you will, of grieving. It is natural. It is normal. It is our mind’s defense mechanism to keep hope alive that there is another outcome other than the loss that is coming which in turn keeps us alive, literally. It keeps us fighting for the future, keeps us eating, sleeping and doing the next thing. Bargaining keeps us looking forward, and we need that when reality is screaming at us that there is no future or forward anywhere to be seen.

In this pre-loss grieving stage, we may scour the internet for medicinal and homeopathic cures and 100th opinions. We may seek other professional opinions in person. We talk to as many people as possible until they share a story that has the outcome we want for our own lives. ā€œIf it’s possible for them, it can be possible for my situation, too!ā€ We may be willing to try anything on earth to stop or delay the inevitable outcome.
I asked for more than one conference call with our oncologist and family spread across multiple states so we could hear his input to help understand the options, or lack thereof, that Nana had in fighting her cancer.

We may cling to a ā€œgood day,ā€ gains on Wall Street, new data to support our hope, or other positive markers that tempts us to believe things are on the upswing at the moment. That is normal. But so is the emotional crash afterwards when we realize it was only that, a moment. Bargaining can play with our emotions and put our thoughts into a tailspin. It almost seems cruel. But, this is the way we are, knowingly or not, working out the avalanche of loss that is just beginning to rumble. Go with it. Let yourself feel the emotions that come with bargaining. Embrace the ups and downs of the process. If your heart’s equilibrium becomes too imbalanced to cope in a healthy way, get help. Talk to someone. You’ll need to get right-side up again before the loss hits so you can begin the grieving process all over again, this time post-loss.

4. Depression – Now it’s getting raw. This stage of pre-loss can cast a trajectory on where the rest of our journey of pre-loss and post-loss grieving take us. Picture the ocean. You’re on a boat and your impending loss throws you overboard. That’s bad enough and it takes all the strength we can muster to keep our heads above water while waves of emotion and a million thoughts crash over us. Depression can feel like weights tied to our arms and legs as we struggle to breathe. Suddenly, we’re sinking to the bottom of the sea and have no way to resurface.

Depression is a beast. It has a unique way of simultaneously sinking us mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically – sometimes at the same time! It’s ruthless and unfair. Nonetheless, it’s a very important part of pre-loss grieving.
• It makes us pull our head out of the sands of shock and denial and look at reality.
• It makes us acknowledge where this road of loss leading.
• It drains the energy from being angry.
• It quiets the bargaining voice in our heads.
• It is, in fact, the preparation we need to accept that loss is indeed coming.

Depression can look like many different things. We can withdraw or overcompensate with out loud behavior. We may cry, or not. We may seem angry, moody or temperamental, or not. We may pick up unhealthy habits and behaviors to try to escape feeling depressed. Watch out for this!

We may feel more tired and sleepy which is very normal as our bodies shut down extra physical energy it doesn’t need to conserve it for the emotional energy we need, and will continue to need, in the days, weeks and months to come.
Depression can trigger anxiety and the two together are the perfect storm. They can spin us into a vicious cycle and many people, like being stuck in a house of mirrors, never find their way out.

Again, if you feel depression is interrupting your daily life and responsibilities, or makes you think about harming yourself or others, or causes your quality of life to suffer to a crippling extent, or you hear worried voices of friends, coworkers and family and see the worry on their faces concerning you, get help. Sometimes we can’t see the forest through the trees.

Call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline (free & confidential) @ 800-273-8255.

Call Focus on the Family Crisis line for free 8am-10pm EST @ 877-233-4455.

Call your home church. Call your insurance company to find an in-network counselor. Call the counselor. Call a friend. Call family. Call someone you trust. Call a support group or local ministry that deals with your type of loss. Just don’t buy into the lie that you must go through this alone. You don’t.

Here is some practical advice for dealing with depression on a daily basis:

* Get enough rest – at least 7 hours a day. But if you’re sleeping more hours than you’re awake, that’s a problem. Rest = repair. When we go to sleep, our bodies go to work to repair the wear and tear from the day. You need this to happen to have the strength to face impending loss. You need to be at your strongest, or at least not run down. Sleep = repair. Give your body time to repair every single night.

* Talk to your doctor about taking a vitamin B complex for more energy, better brain function (including mood lifter) and promoting healthy cell growth. My favorite is ā€œCountry Life Coenzyme B-Complex Caps.ā€ Brain fog can be a sign of depression. If you are in a high-stress season of preparing for loss, vitamin B (preferably complex which covers multiple B’s) can be an awesome natural way to help you mentally function and maintain quality of life. It is water soluble and does not store up in the body.

* Talk to your doctor about having your vitamin D level tested. Don’t just start taking vitamin D as it is fat soluble and too much can hurt you if it accumulates in the body. But a simple finger stick blood sample can reveal whether you’re low, and 98% of Americans are low because we spend most of our time indoors and use sunscreen when we’re outdoors. Your doctor will recommend an amount that’s right for you.

Are there mental and emotional benefits of vitamin D? Among it being necessary for many key physical components, ā€œResearch has shown that vitamin D might play an important role in regulating mood and warding off depression. In one study, scientists found that people with depression who received vitamin D supplements noticed an improvement in their symptoms.ā€ (Healthline.com)

* Hydrate! Drink lots and lots of water. Even a 1-2% reduction in total body water can make us think less clearly. It can flush out viruses, increases our digestive functions, and keeps our energy up. Our bodies are mostly made up of water, and seriously, if you don’t drink enough water in this stage of pre-loss grieving your mind and body will tell you. Try for 8, 8oz glasses per day.

* Exercise – See a pattern with some of these reoccurring options? Exercise is a mood lifter. It helps us purge excess nervous energy. It gives us something to focus on for a break from the stress we are enduring in a season of loss. It makes us stronger and healthier which helps us feel stronger to face the loss that is ahead. Exercise is like creating a savings account for your body. Treat your body well and when your loss happens, you can draw on your savings account, a healthy body, to give you strength to endure. Talk to your doctor about exercise that’s right for you.

* Reduce sugar – Sugar is the staple ingredient in many comfort foods, but it provides no real comfort itself. However, it can give heart palpitations, emotionally instability with euphoric highs and awful lows, as well as lead to weight gain which helps almost no one for all obvious reasons. Stress already plagues us with these symptoms, so why add more reasons to feel bad?

* Increase protein – Most American diets are high carb and low protein. Protein reduces appetite and hunger levels; increases muscle mass and strength; is a bone-builder for better skeletal health; reduces cravings and desires for late-night snacking; boosts metabolism and reduces blood pressure; helps maintain weight loss; and helps your body repair itself after injury (Healthline.com). All of these are beneficial in keeping depression from spiraling out of control.

* Find joy every day/Enjoy healthy vices – play with your pet, take a walk, practice a hobby, sign up for an online joke-of-the-day, watch a funny movie or tv show, laugh, think positive, humorous, silly, creative thoughts. Dream! Never stop dreaming. Play with your kids. Go to nature. Count your blessings. Put thankful and positive sticky notes around your house. Pray for peace and strength. My favorite Scripture for this is Psalm 51:12, ā€œRestore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.ā€ I have it written on an index card by my keyboard, so it is in my peripheral every moment I’m at my computer.

* Allow yourself to feel depressed (Isn’t that what sad songs and movies are for?) as it’s a natural human emotion but be able to see red flags if they pop up, and take action. Depression can take us to dark places. Learn its potholes on your path so you can process feeling depressed in a healthy way (as a vehicle to take you to acceptance), without falling into the bottomless pit of depression. You’ll need to stay on your path of pre-loss grieving, without being stuck in depression, for when your loss comes and you begin the second leg of this race, post-loss grieving.

* Acknowledge your depressing thoughts. Be honest with yourself. Journal if that helps. Sit and stare at the sky. Allow empty space in your head and heart. If we’re always thinking, feeling and doing, we’ll never have time to just be. Create moments of quiet. It’s only then our bodies and minds can leach out the pain we’re holding in.

Almost every time in yoga, at the end of practice during savasana, tears stream down my face. Sometimes I know why and sometimes I don’t. But what I do know is that pain was stored in my body and giving myself time to be quiet and still, not thinking about anything, eyes closed, emotions I may not even be aware of rise to the surface of my heart and streams out in tears. I’ve talked to instructors about this and they say it’s normal and expected. The same is true with simply sitting with the Lord. Psalm 46:10, ā€œBe still and know I that am God.ā€ Try it today. Just be still knowing he is God. Start with 5 minutes.

* Help someone else – Sometimes the best thing to do to cheer ourselves up is to help someone else. It gets us out of our own heads. It reminds us there is someone else going through hard times, too. It helps us feel useful even when we can’t change our own circumstances. Whenever I’m feeling low, the first thing I think is, ā€œHow can I help someone?ā€

Helping brings optimism and positivity to the day, as well as literally helping someone’s else world be a little easier, brighter and cheerful. One of the best things we can do to recalibrate our thoughts is to realize that although OUR world may be crashing down around us, the rest of the world isn’t. Widen your lens to regain perspective and find hope for the future.

* Let others help you – We don’t always need to be the superhero in our story. Let someone else save the day. If they’re offering to help, let them. People care and everyone needs to feel cared for sometimes.

5. Acceptance – ā€œThis stage is about accepting the fact that a new reality cannot be changed. It is about seeing how the new reality will impact life and relationships.ā€ (econdolence.com) Like we said in the beginning, stages of grief can bounce around, blur together and seem to feel utterly random. Although acceptance is the final stage, there are parts of our story we accept at different times.

Like pieces of a puzzle, we might find peace with one issue and how it fits into our lives while the whole puzzle may be far from completed. That’s okay because that is progress. And with pre-loss grieving, we are only accepting the point of the journey to which we have come. We haven’t even begun to digest the entire happening of the loss as it has yet to come. We’re only getting ourselves in position to be able to healthfully cope and grieve the loss when it does occur. Accepting our grief thus far. Accepting the pieces of loss thus far. Accepting our dealing with it, or not, thus far.

Pre-loss grieving through the lens of acceptance is a great heart checkup.

Ask ourselves questions like, ā€œHow am I doing so far?ā€ ā€œWhat can’t I let go of at this point?ā€ ā€œDo I need to seek the help of others?ā€ ā€œAm I coping in healthy ways?ā€ ā€œDo I feel red flags rising in my heart or head?ā€ ā€œWhat part of this journey has been the hardest for me so far?ā€ ā€œKnowing I am about to grieve the loss I’m anticipating; do I have the tools in my emotional toolbelt for this?ā€ ā€œIf not, where can I find healthy resources to have at the ready when I need them?ā€ ā€œHow is my world? My family? My coworkers? How are those who are going to incur this loss as I will doing?ā€ ā€œHow can I help them?ā€ ā€œWhat are my biggest strengths and weaknesses in dealing with this loss?ā€

Accepting the reality of unwanted change, however it’s packaged, is sobering. Humbling. It makes us feel small and it all-powerful.

But acceptance can also make us feel strong! We can be encouraged that we’ve made it this far and can finish this journey to the end. We find we’ve discovered strengths we didn’t know we had. We’ve worked through issues and forgiven and asked for forgiveness. We’ve learned to let go of what wasn’t worth our energy and reconciled what we cannot fix thus far. We’ve made peace with ourselves and the fact that the looming loss will happen. We’ve learned God isn’t the bad guy; he’s actually good all the time despite the bad stuff happening. We’ve discovered our limits and how to respect them. We’ve picked up healthy habits through grieving.

All of these things give us the momentum we need to push forward and keep running our race when the loss descends on our lives and ravages our world. It may plunder everything around us, but we’ve come too far and worked too hard through grieving pre-loss and feel the tenacity burn within us to never give up; to keep pushing; to keep striving for a healthy new normal, no matter how long it takes.

Through acceptance, we allow new things about us and our relationships to bloom new buds. Yes, they may look different, but they are no less beautiful. I’ll never forget seeing a photo of Australia after the raging, devastating and all-consuming fires they suffered. It was a heartbreaking photo of a blackened and charred forest with absolutely no life left standing. It looked like hell had come to earth and breathed its curse on a once vibrant, active and gorgeous land.

However, in the middle of photo was the most spectacular, neon-green new plant that you’ve ever seen. It looked almost like a light was shining on it, it was so brilliantly colored. A dayglow green plant standing tall and healthy among the backdrop of charred death. It was magnificent. This photo is acceptance visualized.

We take all of the bad, the dead, the charred and the once-was and allow it to feed and fertilize the roots of something new and beautiful. We allow our landscape to change, knowing it will never look the same. But, because the new growth that blooms in our hearts and lives is fed by what was, and its sacrifice now nourishes the what-is, a new forest grows. A forest stronger and healthier than before. A forest where life will bud and bloom and seed and sprout, fed by the forest of what-was.

Accepting doesn’t mean we have to forget what once-was; erasing it like it never happened. It means we allow the root of the new buds to be forever fed by the what-was. Two timelines, two landscapes, working in tandem together so lovely only God could create such beauty from ashes.

Accepting isn’t forsaking what was, it is understanding how God can work it, and we can allow him work it, for the good of our lives going forward. The less we fight him on this, the quicker new buds can take root and we can make peace with, and even enjoy, the new landscape.

After all these things come to pass, the loss indeed happens. Like a game of Chutes & Ladders, we find ourselves at start all over again. Maybe the loss didn’t happen the way we expected. Maybe it was less horrible than we anticipated, maybe it was more.

Nonetheless, we shake off our running shoes, brush off our bruised knees and tighten our laces. Looking ahead, we rally a deep breath and take the first step in working the five stages of grief, post-loss this time. Godspeed in your journey, friend. May it be well with your soul.

Lessons from Nana…Have the conversation

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I was looking forward all week to seeing Nana. When she saw me, she burst into tears, happy tears. She hugged me tight and would not let go. We stood in the middle of a busy dining room full of residents and staff, and Nana gripped me as though she hadn’t seen me in a long time. She didn’t remember it had only been four days.

I led her to a quiet table in the corner. As we sat, her cold, fragile hand held mine. It was just the two of us and my heart was so happy.

It’s been a struggle to keep her caloric intake up, and it was clear the more I distracted her with conversation the more she ate. So I kept talking and she kept eating. She spoke a few times about the pain from her cancer. Then she followed up with, ā€œBut it’s okay, I’m a tough old broad.ā€

Gulping down my awkwardness I asked, ā€œWhat helps you stay a tough old broad, even under these circumstances? I really want to know.”

She smiled, got a little teary, and replied as she squeezed my hand, ā€œFamily and God. After all, he’s in charge.ā€

The sun slowly set over her shoulder. Every now and then my gaze wandered from her to the fiery colors of fuchsia and orange bursting from behind the clouds, fading to hues of purples and blues, eventually extinguishing to black.

One-by-one, residents finished their meals and left the dining room. The staff cleaned up around us but allowed us to linger.

Searching for a lighthearted topic, I asked her if she’s still enjoying her favorite television shows. ā€œNo. I don’t watch TV,ā€ Nana scoffed. ā€œNothing matters anymore,ā€ she continued. ā€œFamily matters. God matters. But nothing else.ā€ She stared off into the distance, and continued, ā€œIt’s like I don’t care about anything anymore. But I don’t mean that to sound bad. It’s just what used to be important isn’t anymore. What I used to spend my time and energy on, it all really doesn’t matter.ā€

I quietly sat at the table and drank in her facial and body expressions, trying to sear them into memory for the day our conversations end. Nana was allowing me priceless insight into the perspective of someone with an aging body and ailing mind. I applaud her honest candor.

Listening with full attention, I saw a woman who is letting go.

Finding words for her sentences is like searching for seashells on a shore cluttered with incomprehension and nonsensical thoughts. Yet, with enough time and patience, her feelings, thoughts and opinions eventually reveal themselves through the sands of confusion.

These days, the TV sits silent in her apartment. Mail is tucked away. Her phone stays unplugged and she often doesn’t know where it is or even that she has one. The daily word searches delivered by the staff that she has so enjoyed over the past year lie untouched. Even ordering food from the daily menu is a struggle as a task that she couldn’t care about in the least.

There is a stark correlation to her recent decline. Rewind to last September. As best we could, we delivered the news to Nana that doctors gave her about six months to live. That is a post for another day. Her response to the news was, ā€œI want to live as normal as possible for as long as possible.ā€ This meant no more treatment of any kind. We respect her decision and asked, ā€œSo how do you want to spend your time? What is on your bucket list? Whatever we can give you, we want to. Want to go to the beach again? Go to New York one more time? You name it and we’ll try our best to make it happen.ā€

She sat with a quizzical stare. Between Alzheimer’s, angiosarcoma and aging, her mind is losing its footing. I, on the other hand, had fabulous aspirations of us going on amazing adventures. I could already see the selfies snapping in my mind’s eye. I saw us stepping barefoot into the coastal tide with water and sand tickling our toes. I envisioned a trip to the mountains where we open the sunroof and let the wind toss our hair as we spend the afternoon at apple orchards, which reminds her so much of home, and picking apples at the local fruit stands. I fancied the ideas of expensive restaurants, pondered playing with puppies in animal shelters, and even going to Disney World if that would delight her heart. Yet, the profound simplicity of her answer surprised me.

ā€œI just want to see my kids one more time.ā€

Nana is a mother of four grown children with their own families; only one family lives locally. Her family is spread across three states from Texas to New York and over the following months they came to see her. Everyone tried to make it as fun as possible despite the bittersweet taste of the trips’ purpose – to say goodbye to Nana.

How does one say goodbye? Are there truly enough words that justify putting a period at the end of a relationship separated by death?

For my husband, her son, he wrestles with this every time he sees her. ā€œIt’s so hard knowing that every time I’m with her, I leave knowing it could be the last time.ā€

Saying goodbye over and over and over wears on a soul. Our rides home together are often spent with reflective contemplation inwardly while processing together outwardly.

And for our family out of town, they came with the somber realization that they were going to have one last hug, one last kiss, one last eye-to-eye, ā€œI love you.ā€ The finality of a final goodbye is unbearable.

But enter our tough old broad. Nana knows where she is going and she knows who is waiting for her. She’s told us for years that as much as she loves her kids and grandkids, she’s got a lot more people waiting for her in heaven than she does on earth. It’s a little twingey to hear, but I understand her point.

When her youngest son drove her home one last time on his trip to say goodbye last month, Nana looked at him and said, ā€œSo I guess the next I see you will be in heaven.ā€ ā€œYes, I guess it will, Mom.ā€

I have not stopped thinking about their conversation. How raw. How real. How rare.

Most people cannot even talk about death, much less the direct impact it has on loved ones even while the person is still living. Yet here are mother and son, openly talking about this last face-to-face time they’ll see each other on this celestial orb of water and clay. What a gift of closure for them both. It was a lifetime of relationshipping wrapped up in two sentences and a mutual I love you. How remarkable!

Nana is certainly a tough old broad. She’s sat through endless doctors’ appointments talking about surgeries, recoveries, physical therapy, home therapy, and even hospice. Now she is speaking about the last chapter of her life and the only things that remain important – God and family.

Her daughter and grandson came to say goodbye. Again, how can a lifetime together be summed up in one word, seven letters – goodbye. But this is a blessing that many don’t get to experience. Those who lose loved ones quickly or unexpectedly would give anything in the world to have one last conversation; one more ā€œI love you;ā€ an ā€œI’m sorry;ā€ an ā€œI forgive you.ā€

My mom died I when was 16 years old. My family, out of love for me, wanted to protect me from the pain of her dying. However, by not including me in conversations about Mom’s grim prognosis, they weren’t protecting me, rather they were preventing me from grieving her illness and death.

If I had known that doctors had not given her hope of surviving her last night, I never ever would have gone out with friends that night. I wouldn’t have had a friend spend the night for goodness sakes! I never ever would have left her side. But I didn’t know, and the guilt of leaving her in her last hours is something that a 16 year old then, a 49 year old now, has carried ever since.

To have had that night to apologize for my hormonal, bratty teenage years and the aloof dissing as an insecure middle-schooler would’ve been a blessing beyond measure for us both. To reminisce about the good and let go of the bad would have brought immeasurable healing and peace. Just to be with her in her last hours…after all, she once told me in the throws of brutal chemo and radiation, ā€œI’m only going through all of this for you girls. <my sister and me> Ya’ll are the reason I’m living.ā€ My place was by her bedside that last night. I owed her that much, but I didn’t know.

On the contrary, I sat with my biological father as he laid dying in the hospital. I first met him when I was 12 years old. We didn’t reconcile until I was 33 year old. We were given eight great years until he died of cancer. Our relationship was unique and unlikely, but with God as our witness we gave our relationship to him and he blessed it. When I got the call to come to Atlanta to say goodbye, my husband and I were in the middle of a home remodel. I tossed the keys to the contractor and our family of five piled into the minivan and we hit the road. I wasn’t going to miss (again) my last chance to say goodbye to my only living parent.

Sitting at his bedside, I asked if everyone clustered in the crowded, tiny hospital room wouldn’t mind leaving. My husband, children and my dad’s wife left the room and it was just my dad and me. Lung cancer held his words and breath hostage. I had never seen him weak and watching him lie there with oxygen tubes and IVs was overwhelming. I knew I had one chance to say it. Three words I could never bring myself to say in our eight short years, nor in my entire life. I knew I needed to say them as much as he needed to hear them.

I needed to say them in hopes to overwrite one of the most hurtful things I’ve ever said to another human being. Years before, he stood in my home (to which he traveled hours to see my family and me) and I said to him straight to his face, ā€œYou can be a grandfather to my children, but not a father to me.ā€ A hurt little girl deep inside still longed to feel like a daughter. I had been in counseling off and on for years, but still had so much unresolved anger, hurt and resentment which is too complicated to pen here. The thing is, I meant those words at the time– but I didn’t mean to say them to him.

Fast-forward several years, more counseling, and much heart change, maturity and personal growth later, I was a different person. I desperately wanted to take those words back knowing how much they hurt him. I did my best to show it to him that I didn’t mean those words anymore and that I did want him in my life, not just in my children’s lives. We made great memories together until cancer came calling. The photo album would have a hard stop in its timeline. But I wondered if I said three words, that they would perhaps elude time and distance, sickness and health. So much had not been said in our lifetime, could three words possibly bear the weight of it all? Could three words erase the negative and amplify the positive conversations and shared moments between us for three decades? Are three words that powerful?

Kicking aside the scattered stones of pride and human emotion that were leftover from a very thick and high wall that guarded my heart, I left myself wide open and vulnerable in a moment in an Atlanta hospital room. My palms were soaked with sweat, the back of my neck stung with prickly anxious heat, and my pounding heart welled up in my throat. Taking a deep breath, and deciding not to overthink it any longer, I gently took his hand, looked him in the eye and softly said, ā€œI’m sorry I can’t fix this. I’m sorry I can’t make you better.ā€ He looked at me, unable to move, but I felt the hug of his heart.

Then I said in one breath, and without blinking, ā€œI love you.ā€

A wave of relief and freedom washed over me. It was my first, and last, I love you, to my dad. He died not 24 hours later.

Some may find my openness and lack of filter about such personal and painful topics audacious, off-putting, uncomfortable, and even offensive. I totally get it and don’t blame them at all. But I’ve lived both scenarios – saying goodbye and not saying goodbye. Not saying goodbye is far harder to live with than momentarily swallowing pride, overcoming awkwardness, leaning into the opportunity, and saying what needs to be said.

Likewise, Nana and I have had lots of positive conversations about dying over these last months. Having Christ as Savior changes the entire perspective on living and dying. We talk about the certainty of Jesus’ promise in John 14:2-3, ā€œMy Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.ā€ There is so much for Christians to look forward to!

Christina Rossetti wrote the poem, ā€œLet Me Go,ā€ with its words, ā€œā€¦For this is a journey we all must take, and each must go alone. It’s all part of the master plan, a step on the road to homeā€¦ā€ Although its words are comforting, they are conventional.

Nana and I are going about her journey in an unconventional way. And in many ways, I feel like we’ve grown closer in the past year than in the 33 years we’ve known each other; largely due to our continuing conversations.

I want to walk Nana as close to heaven as I can get to minimize her aloneness in the journey as the poem wrote. My hope is to hand her to heaven when the Lord calls her home so there is not one moment spent unaccompanied between her last breath on earth and her first glimpse of eternity.

So we’ve escorted the elephants out of the room and talk about ā€œit.ā€ It being whatever the day brings – an emotion, a decision, a thought, a memory. She knows she can tell me anything. She also knows this is the time to say it.

This is Nana’s epilogue. Her moment to reflect and respond to the 80 years she has lived. When I think of all she has seen, lived through and overcome I’m amazed at her perseverance, strength and how she has kept her sense of humor through it all.

From stuffing newspapers in her shoes as a child to replace insoles long worn out; how as a 12-year-old girl home alone, she bravely brandished a shotgun to scare off two drunk men who came looking for trouble; she walked the college stage to receive her degree very married and very pregnant, even holding up the ceremonial line for her extra restroom trip (oh the joys of pregnancy!); she marveled at snowfalls as high as their roof; she enjoyed summer camping on Maine beaches and ice fishing on the lake; she hosted countless birthday parties and lived through too many world wars; from spirited poker nights to scary bomb shelters; dogs running amuck all over the house; a house always needing repairs; all-you-can-eat Friday fish fries at the local HoJo and 4th of July fireworks at Lake George; Martha’s ice cream and Dirty John’s hot dogs; Studebakers and station wagons; dancing into the night and nights spent sitting up with sick babies; giving up smoking and giving her life to Christ; cooking with Julia Child’s and crying with Billy Graham on tv; raising four active children and sending them off into the world as adults; all of her countless prayers and answers to prayers; owning her own store and working as an elementary school teacher, Nana never sat down unless it was to knit or read an Agatha Christie mystery. She walked her husband home to heaven and spent years serving the church, and now the church is serving her through its widow ministry, and it is our family’s turn to walk her to heaven. As Nana rounds the corner of life, in her home stretch she reflects on the big, releases the small, and reminiscences about the millions of life’s moments and lessons in the middle.

These stories deserve to be told and retold. So we spark her memory with a story-starter and then sit back and let her talk. This is her epilogue, worthy of hearing, recording, remembering.

I know she is letting go because she tells me even without admitting it. Because with every conversation, she talks to me regarding ā€œusā€ in past tense. ā€œI’m so glad I got the chance to love you like a daughter.ā€ ā€œI’m so glad God brought you into our family.ā€ ā€œI’m so glad I got to know you.ā€

I swallow hard but freeze my smile, so she won’t notice. In some ways it feels like I’m talking to a ghost. In other ways it feels like I’m talking to someone who has never been so alive as a lifetime lived on this earth, bound by time and space, waits patiently to escape this world and enter eternity. Where in heaven, the stories of old once again are retold, this time with all the actors alive, well and immortal. A gathering of life and love that will never end.

We, the family who will be left behind for now, will gather her stories and hold them close to our hearts. We will retell them to our children and grandchildren in countless conversations so they know their roots; an intangible legacy of life and love binding us together now and in the eternal.

None of this is possible without one thing – a conversation. Have the conversation. Say what needs to be said, in love. Bring peace where possible. Embrace closure. Give grace to all…including yourself. Escort the elephants out. Invite the Holy Spirit in. Laugh together. Cry together. Hold hands. Hug. Reminisce. Dream. Talk about life goals and final wishes. Sit in silence, but be together. Bless and pray for each other. Mend wounds. Heal hurts. Share joys and sorrows, victories and disappointments. Admit wrongdoings. Say I’m sorry and accept apologies. Agree to disagree when needed. Celebrate successes. Focus on what we have in common. Love one another. Savor the moments we have together now as tomorrow is not promised for any of us.

It all starts with a conversation.

BBQ Slaw Salad

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Do you like BBQ dinners but not the heavy feeling after eating them? This BBQ plate fills you up without needing a nap afterwards.

This dish looks as yummy as it tastes, with several flavors going on here.

Red wine vinegar offers a cohesive flavor between the onions, BBQ sauce and the slaw dressing amid the different textures and tastes of this recipe. The crunch of the slaw, pickled onions & pumpkin seeds pairs well with the soft pork. The mixed greens catch the extra BBQ juices and slaw dressing, making it a bonus salad unto itself. The cornbread replaces a traditional bun and has much more flavor (and doesn’t get soggy like a bun). I like to mix everything together (sans the cornbread) so as to get even flavors of everything in each bite. Enjoy a lighter, yet filling, take on this Southern dish!

INGREDIENTS: Serves 4

1#Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Pulled pork BBQ

2 bagsĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Broccoli slaw (or cabbage slaw)

1, 5oz bagĀ  Ā  Ā Mixed greens

1cĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Pickled red onions

1 boxĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā  Ā Cornbread

SLAW DRESSING:Ā 

4TĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Mayo

3TĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Red wine vinegar

4TĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  Agave syrup

3TĀ  Ā  Ā  Ā  BBQ sauce

1/2tĀ  Ā  Ā Celery salt

DIRECTIONS:

  1. Whisk together all of the slaw dressing ingredients together and then blend in the bag of broccoli slaw, tossing well to coat. Refrigerate until ready to serve. *OR* Buy slaw dressing in the refrigerated section of salad dressings in the grocery store and add 6T per total jar (adjust amounts depending on your servings size). Refrigerate until ready to serve.
  2. Use store-bought cornbread or make with either a BOX MIX or THIS RECIPE (I half the sugar and butter in this recipe).
  3. Use store-bought pork BBQ or make it fresh with THIS RECIPE.
  4. Use THIS RECIPE for the pickled red onions. It’s really easy and one batch lasts for an entire month.
  5. When ready to serve, assemble the salad: greens on the bottom, then slaw, then BBQ, and top with pickled onions. Add cornbread and your all set. Enjoy!