Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Aging

July 19, 2017

a grownup’s prayer

I want to be in tune with You –
Listening to my heart sing
Surrounded by music

Maybe You could arrange for me to live in nonstop song
At home in my skin, content, grateful and unafraid
Connected with those I love or haven’t yet learned to love

Would You kindly spare a few moments
to sing me back together?
I’d rather not have another operation.

***

A few evenings ago I was listening to choral music, singing along from time to time. A bit weepy though happy. Grateful for small gifts during the day.

It dawned on me that I’m most content, most at peace when I’m surrounded by music. Especially, but not only, grand hymns old and new.

So I dreamed a bit. What would it be like to live in nonstop song? And might my Creator be willing to oblige me? Without ungodly pain?

Coming from a grownup, the ungodly pain part seemed a fair request. After all, I don’t have as much time for fancy procedures as I used to have. Besides, who wouldn’t love to be sung back together?

Hoping your day/evening is filled with music that softens your heart and sings you back together.

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 July 2017

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July 6, 2017

an untethered life

Annie J. Flint, Poet (1866-1932)

I like being in control. Or at least thinking I’m in control. Yet the older I get, the less control I have over my world, much less yours. I don’t relish feeling tethered by circumstances beyond my control.

Annie J. Flint, composer of the well-loved song below, lived a tethered life in her later years due to severe arthritis. Her ability to work or function as an independent adult was limited. She experienced what it means to ‘reach the end of our hoarded resources.’

Yet she still touches us with grace-filled lyrics such as these. Here’s one of her most-loved songs, unedited.

He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength as our labors increase;
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials he multiplies peace.

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving is only begun.

His love has no limits, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.

Words by Annie J. Flint (1866-1932)
Found at CyberHymnal.org

Today, six months into this year, I’m tempted to despair. I struggle with discouragement about national and international issues. I don’t know what I can do, or who I’m to be in the midst of growing chaos gone crazy. The options seem tightly restrictive.

Happily, these lyrics don’t lull me into spiritual make-believe land, as though I could escape all this. Instead, they invite me to keep an open mind and heart, stay engaged, and loosen my hold on that tether I think is binding me.

After all, Flint’s lyrics are about receiving, not about giving.

I’ve lived most of my adult life as a giver. Though it’s exhausting, I confess some addiction to it. Especially now that I’m not able to feed the giving habit as regularly as I might like.

Perhaps I’ve reached the end of my giving tether, and need to cut it loose. Annie Flint would likely agree. In fact, when her options became severaly limited, she picked up her pen and began writing her life in poetry. Not primarily for us, but for herself.

How selfish? No, how wise. I can’t think of a better way to receive gifts than to unwrap, admire, and use them.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 6 July 2017
Image found at CyberHymnal.org
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Tether

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June 13, 2017

Diminishing time, and yet…

I recently confessed, to my surprise, that I now want live to be 100 years old.

So what will I do between now and then? What’s my measurable goal, and how will I know I’m making progress? Or when enough is enough already!

Early Sunday morning I had this dream just before I woke up.

I’m somewhere away from home, with a group of interesting people who seem to have items they’re displaying in a large room. The hall is full but not crowded. The people themselves are interesting, and the items are all different.

I encourage a few visitors to walk around and look at the creative articles on display. There are women and men in the room. Artist types, but not selling their items so far as I can see. They’re just sharing them in this large hall for people to look at. I see several I want to visit. However, it’s late, and I know I need to be on my way.

In the next scene I’m driving my car. I have no passengers, and am on my way home via what looks similar to an interstate highway. I’m on an entrance ramp. There aren’t any signals or signs, but I know where I’m going. I pull onto the highway, into the traffic.

This dream got me wondering what I might display as one of the interesting artist types. After 3 ½ years of blogging, I have over 900 posts and 900 followers! I can scarcely believe it. I love blogging and have no intention of giving it up. It also seems a good time to reconsider my goal for all this writing. Especially if I want to display at least some of it.

The dream also got me wondering where I’m going on the highway. Home, yes. But where is home? I’m clearly in control, in the driver’s seat. No one else is with me, and I’m feeling happy, relaxed and expectant. The highway isn’t formal like an interstate or state highway. Yet it’s spacious, inviting, and busy without being crowded. It feels a bit rustic. It isn’t a ‘polished’ highway, but a well-kept road somewhere out in the country.

Here’s where I find myself today:

  • I have diminishing time on this earth.
  • I’m not looking for fame and fortune.
  • I want a concrete project that brings me joy and puts some of my writing into a user-friendly form.
  • I want to begin now with small steps in a direction—perhaps setting aside writing time each week to identify and collect a specified number of posts with potential.

Beyond that, I have no clue where this might go. I do know, however, that without a Big Hairy Goal and measurable steps in a direction, I’ll think this one over to its grave and mine!

Thoughts? Comments? Experiences of your own? I welcome each and every one! Always.

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 13 June 2017
Photo found at montanarue.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Taper

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May 17, 2017

One Big Blur | An Update

Carolina Anne Fraser’s First Prize Youth Division, 2016 Audubon Photography Competition – Great Frigatebirds taken Near Española, Galápagos Islands, Ecuador

The last four weeks have been one big blur. Mostly medical appointments and family time, plus writing and visiting when I was able and awake. You’ve already heard about our visit with daughter Sherry and her husband to Longwood Gardens.

Another highlight was a visit to the James Audubon House and grounds. We met our son there and toured the old house and grounds. There were birds all over the place! The day was crystal clear, breezy and sunny, cool but not cold.

We went because one of our granddaughters had a prize-winning bird photo on display along with those of other winners and honorable mentions. Proud? Who me? Not just proud, but absolutely floored by her gift.

Back to reality and on another subject, “endless beauty” was my 900th post! I didn’t even notice until it was already out there. When I began blogging over three years ago, I never guessed I’d still be chugging away. One of the most personally rewarding things I do these days is look back at some of my writing, often getting teary in a happy way.

What I thought would be writing about my life has become writing my life. Not looking back so much as looking into the present. Especially as it impacts me directly as a citizen of the world and as a retired woman making my way toward the end of this life.

Daughter Sherry and her husband flew back to Oregon last week. It was bitter-sweet to be together. A reminder of how much family means as I age, and my health changes.

The day after they left, I saw my primary care physician to follow up on lab tests. My kidneys are in good shape right now. No sign of damage. I’ll see my cardiologist at the end of this week. I also have a call in to schedule a first appointment with a nephrologist (kidney doctor) who will oversee my Chronic Kidney Disease care.

My most difficult challenge is dealing with unpredictable energy and emotional highs and lows. That, and the constant need to prepare kidney-friendly food and get enough of it in me each day. D has kindly offered to learn a recipe or two that he can make for me each week.

On Mother’s Day I woke up exhausted after a tough night. Still recuperating from my relatively busy social life last week. So I stayed home from church and slept all morning. Got up, had some lunch, then went straight back to bed and slept more. A wonderful way to celebrate Mom’s Day! I recommend it highly.

I’m not able to write or visit as often as I once was, and am more laid back about what I write. So far, there’s always more than enough when I’m ready and able to write.

With hope for today, and huge thanks for your visits and comments,
Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 May 2017
Photo credit: DAFraser, May 2017

12 Comments
April 21, 2017

Memories fade

Memories fade
stored in leaky shed
pierced with rusting spikes

***

How many have already died away,
leaving the most resilient and powerful behind?
Who am I without my memories?
And will my fading body be their demise as well?

*

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 21 April 2017
Photo taken in Charlotte, Texas; found at wickimedia.org
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Spike

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April 18, 2017

weathered fence

weathered fence and drifting clouds obscure lush landscape

***

my eyes strain to clarify
what stands before me
and what lies ahead

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 April 2017
Photo found at pixabay.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Opaque

10 Comments
March 31, 2017

My Horrible Night

Last night I was restless, unable to fall asleep for too many hours. So I got up for the 5th time that night, went into my office, opened my journal and wrote whatever came into my head. No, I won’t bore you with all of it. The excerpts below capture what was going on in my head and heart.

First time in months that I’ve had this much trouble going to sleep. . . .Not sure what to think or feel.

~~I let go my desire for security and survival.
~~I let go my desire for esteem and affection.
~~I let go my desire for power and control.
~~I let go my desire to change the situation.

I welcome this wakefulness; I consent to it; I’m listening to it.

It’s a reminder of how unpredictable and uncontrollable my life is. A reminder that even with all my good efforts, things don’t always go smoothly. A reminder of what it feels like to have too much cortisol going through my body at this time of night. . . .

My day didn’t have much rest. Lots of time spent on writing, food preparation, shopping for food, an outdoor walk, supper and a movie we watched early in the evening….

No lying down for a little nap, and no time out until late for reading or practicing centering prayer. I think my body and soul feel neglected – perhaps tired of being put on hold in favor of the next blog post, news item or internet search….

I want to learn to pour compassion, not contempt, on all my pride – as a writer, as a professional, as a together lady – a self-contained choir of one….My world seems very small, even though my external connections are many.

I want to be in the choir. Not to be famous, but to enjoy the ride! To feed my soul, my heart, my ears! There’s so much beauty in Your world. I want to be there in it, whatever form it takes….

I know You love me and are surrounding me even in my discomfort and restlessness. …

Be in my sleep and in my wakefulness –
Surround me with Your presence and peace.
Now and forevermore –
Amen

I’m happy to say I fell asleep right away.

The line about pouring compassion, not contempt, on all my pride ran through my mind all day. God doesn’t pour contempt on me or my pride. So why would I pour contempt on my pride, much less anyone else’s pride?

I don’t know how other people came to be as they are. More important, I like myself better when I practice compassionate self-care. Without being too proud to ask for help, of course. ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 March 2017

15 Comments
March 7, 2017

Chewing My Cud

~~~~~A tarine cow chewing the cud near the Habert de la Dame

Dear Friends,

Today’s Daily Prompt is ruminate.  You know—chewing the cud. Turning things over and over and over. Mashing them around. Trying to make digestible what might be indigestible. Spitting out what reminds me of liver and okra. Swallowing the rest and hoping the outcomes are good for me.

So what’s this post all about? Several things. Please note I need no sympathy. In fact, I abhor it. I’d rather have empathy or even your listening ear. You don’t have to like it, agree with it, think about it, try to solve it, or come back for more. If all you do is read with a listening ear, I’ll be deliriously grateful.

So let’s start with my health. It’s on my mind daily. Maybe that’s what happens in the golden years—things just sort of moosh together and feed on each other relentlessly.

The list gets longer: heart arrhythmia and heartbeat speed or lack thereof; non-diabetic hypoglycemia; jaw bone loss of memory and inability to function properly; kidneys showing signs of aging; on glaucoma watch with nothing to report lately; IBS ever with me and I with it; still allergic to chocolate; caffeine considered poison to my system; lactose and soy intolerant; those pesky little skin cancers that just seem to keep popping up; and whatever I forgot to mention or didn’t mention on purpose.

And yet.

I look around and am beyond grateful for this female body and the ability to care for it. I spend hours in the kitchen making sure the food train is ready to go, and cleaning up pots and pans. I have a lovely kitchen, enough food, water, cookbooks galore, and a pantry full of ingredients. Best of all, I have a kitchen dining area with a lovely view of our back yard, bird feeders, birds and bees, trees, shrubs, spring flowers, the sky, the occasional bunny rabbit, groundhogs, and did I mention squirrels or that stray cat?

Two days ago I was—and still am—sorrowful because another church friend died last week. Teared up all day. In church, out of church. Anxious about my health, given my age. Down in the dumps about the way this presidential election and outcomes have galvanized family, friends, neighbors and strangers against each other. I’m also lonely—feeling like Emily Dickinson’s poem from the inside out. Yet hungry for time alone, especially in the evening, and for music to sooth my spirit and bring on another wave of tears. Vulnerable and grateful.

And yet.

That very evening I had fallen apart. Out of control in the space of a heartbeat. Storming around the attic overwhelmed by messiness. We’re making great progress up there. Yet the messiness freaked me out. Not just my messes, but you-know-who’s messes. To say nothing about how I’ve been cleaning up (other peoples’) messes all my life and I’m sick and tired of it and I won’t take it anymore!

What’s going on? What if I tried something different next time? I don’t have answers. That’s why I’m writing about it. My way of ruminating. Out loud.

Thanks for listening, and not trying to solve my stuff. Empathy is also deeply appreciated.

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 7 March 2017
Photo found at braemoor.co.uk
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Ruminate

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January 31, 2017

Scent of Hospitality

graham-crackers-and-milk

I used to think hospitality meant planning a big splashy event. Dinner to prepare or goodies to bake and have ready to go. With, of course, the scent of baked goodies or aromatic spices hanging in the air.

The house had to be sparkling clean in every corner. And smell clean, too! As for the hostess—that would be me—she, too, had to look and smell spiffy.

It isn’t that I’m not into social niceties anymore. It’s just that I’m older. Less energy. Less time to waste on dusting every nook and cranny. Or making sure the kitty litter isn’t fouling up the air.

If you drop by today I’m happy to make do with whatever’s in the cupboard, plus tea or coffee or water. All pretty cheap props in return for lively conversation with friends, neighbors or even strangers.

But now I’ve gone and done it. Decided to have a teeny tiny children’s tea for our neighbors and their young twins. A little boy and a little girl. You’d think I was totally out of my league, given my consternation about what to do.

I keep telling myself all I need to do is have some graham crackers, grapes and something to drink handy. Relax, Elouise. This isn’t a big deal—even though it is.

Still, though I’m a bit anxious, I can’t wait! I think our young guests will quickly set the agenda.

If things lag, there are at least a dozen mysterious boxes in our living room. Small, decorative boxes. Different shapes and sizes. Full of cheap trinkets I’ve picked up here and there. The kind of things young children love to discover.

And children’s books! Scores of them are here and there, waiting to be picked up. Maybe even read out loud.

Besides, my lovely piano stands ready for anyone to play. And then there’s Smudge, our people-friendly kitty. Or, should all else fail, D and I, in our second childhood!

Seriously, I had no idea how daunting this great idea of mine would feel. After decades of working with adults, and with our grandchildren now grownup teenagers, I’ve forgotten how easy it is to be with young children. Especially in our interesting and somewhat eccentric house.

In the larger picture of my life, getting started is always the most difficult part of all. From then on, it’s usually a great if not glorious adventure. The simple kind that puts all of life in perspective, no matter how bleak the weather or how grim the headlines.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 January 2017
Image found at vintagevapejuice.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Scent

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January 12, 2017

My someday list

My someday list
Of dreams come true
Spreads heavy with its weight
Of years across my life
So many yet so few

What now I wonder wistfully,
Is this what yet remains —
The scattered remnants here and there
Of life and love and mountains scaled
Now fading from my view?

Someday is now my yesterday
Of dreams no longer bright –
The muddled brilliant afterglow
Of memories tucked away in scraps
Sweet pangs of love and life and death

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 January 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Someday

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