Maintaining my space | Dear Diane
It’s 1998, only two years after Diane’s ALS diagnosis. She makes a tough decision and chooses not to communicate it until after the fact. Read the rest of this entry »
It’s 1998, only two years after Diane’s ALS diagnosis. She makes a tough decision and chooses not to communicate it until after the fact. Read the rest of this entry »
An eyebrow-raising sense of humor and almost wicked delight in planning, anticipating and pulling off the perfect practical joke. Especially if it involved some quirky thing about bodies. ALS offered Diane plenty of bodily material. Read the rest of this entry »
I don’t have a clue how many of you are out there in The Great Beyond. I just know this blog lives and breathes by a two-way unspoken agreement: Read the rest of this entry »
morning haze of smoky dust
gives way to cool breezes
dancing over crystal blue
icy waters of the vast caldera
lined with cliffs rising precipitously
pure waters shimmer
beneath reflected clouds Read the rest of this entry »
Years ago I fell in love. Not with a man, but with his writings. George MacDonald and I share at least this: He too was deeply connected to the church and struggled with depression. In addition, he was a Scottish pastor, sometimes at odds with his church. He died believing himself to be a failure. Read the rest of this entry »
she peeks through bamboo
sparkling eyes smiling coyly –
golden locks waving
* * * * *
She’s calling to me!
I can’t resist!
I’ve been too long Read the rest of this entry »
It’s difficult to focus.
Voices and images
clamor for my attention,
my response,
my analysis of what is beyond all reason.
I force myself to stay close to the bone, Read the rest of this entry »
She is adamant: “I’m still Diane!” It’s a theme in her life with ALS. Getting it across costs her time and energy—well worth it from her perspective! I certainly didn’t know how to relate to someone with ALS. Diane brings us on board. Read the rest of this entry »
I agonized about whether to begin this blog. Not because I had nothing to say, but because I was terrified. Of what? I’m not sure. Probably the concreteness of truth. Even though I lived with it all my life, putting truth out there in concrete words is different.
The words below are from my journal. I made the entry on 19 July 2012, about 18 months before I published my first post, Dear Dad. Read the rest of this entry »