Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Self-reflection

July 31, 2018

Doing it My Way

Well, here I am a week later, learning to focus on thing I know I can enjoy right now. No matter what comes next.

Several days ago I decided to  list many items as I could think of. Not a bucket list of things to do before I die, but a list of things I want to enjoy as much as possible right now.

I won’t bore you with the full list, which is still growing. I do want you to see, however, that I’m in full Do It My Way mode! Sometimes I laugh out loud when I’m reviewing the growing list. And sometimes I tear up.

So here goes–a selection, beginning with the first item that popped into my head.

  1. Cooking for myself, My Way! Possibly the most important item on my list. The thought of handing over my diet to rank amateurs or know-it-alls is unthinkable.
  2. Cleaning out my dresser drawers, closets and a few other hiding places. Why? Because I don’t want ANYBODY to see what’s there, unless it counts as Something I Cannot Do Without.
  3. Dressing myself each day all by myself, in clothes that are comfortable and attractive to me (not necessarily to you).
  4. Taking care of ALL personal hygiene needs. You might try imagining what it’s like to be happy doing these things….
  5. Getting out of bed at night to look at the moon, the planets and the stars
  6. Reading poetry written by others and by me
  7. Writing poetry
  8. Having a sense of where I am and what time it is, and enjoying the rhythms of each day
  9. Feeling connected to items in our home–where they came from and why they’re important to me
  10. Recognizing myself in the mirror
  11. Knowing how to call 911 in an emergency
  12. Remembering and recognizing the faces of my family members and friends

Small things that make up my life. Things I can enjoy, appreciate and take note of every day. Not because disaster might come in a certain shape, but because life itself is precious, and all I can count on is what I have today.

Thanks for reading!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 July 2018
Image found at grandmalin.wordpress.com

8 Comments
July 26, 2018

Keeping on the sunny side

Last night I opened my journal to make a short entry about the day—generally gray and dismal, including a computer-related crisis. Instead, this is what came out:

A thought just came to me. I’m almost afraid to write it down.

For every day and night I live without Alzheimer’s, I want to be grateful – and take advantage of things that bring me joy. I don’t want to live each day under a growing cloud of fear and anxiety about my future or our future [mine and D’s].

I grew up consumed by anxiety, dread and fear. They followed me every day of my life. They were in the air, even when we were having fun. Never too much fun, of course.

I enjoy life, and I generally enjoy being myself and not someone else. Yet often hanging over all of it are clouds of anxiety, dread or fear.

Today it’s easy to point to fear of Alzheimer’s as the chief culprit. But it isn’t. Sometimes it seems I inherited a gene that predisposes me to the dark side of life.

I can’t stop the bad stuff from happening, and I can’t get back what I’ve already lost.

So instead of focusing on what might happen today or tomorrow, I’m choosing to focus on things that bring me joy. No matter how small or ordinary they may seem to others.

If you’re scratching your head wondering why this is such a revolutionary thought, I don’t blame you.

In my family of origin, community and church settings, the struggles of life were often celebrated and even rewarded with attention. Or so it seemed to me. The fun stuff was cake and ice cream we might get to enjoy someday if we were good girls.

I’m choosing instead to feast right now on the sunny side of life. With gusto and without apology, no matter how small or insignificant my choices seem to anyone else.

As for the other stuff, it is what it is. I can’t make it go away. I can, however, shower it with small gifts of joy and delight as often as possible.

Thanks for listening!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 July 2018
Keep on the Sunny Side found on YouTube
Live performance by The Whites and Jerry Douglas (Oh Brother, Where Art Thou arrangement)

19 Comments
July 23, 2018

restless breeze and crackling trees

restless breeze
sends thistle seed soaring
goldfinches descend

crackling trees thud
chain saws muzzle morning calm
my friend walks her dog

Do you remember Janet Henfrey, the inimitable Weather Lady from As Time Goes By? She was fiercely dedicated to keeping things in order, including weather reports which she delivered regularly with precision, whether anyone cared to hear them or not.

Well, I can’t say things are in order today. I can, however, say that each haiku above captures my weather report from Saturday and Monday (today) morning walks through our neighborhood.

Despite the noisy chain saws that echoed everywhere this morning, catching sight of 85-year old Rita approaching in her brilliant orange raincoat and cap with her tiny dog Charlie was the best sight of all! I joined her and had a little catch-up chat.

In some ways, this neighborhood is my ‘parish.’ Or rather, our parish. A defined spot on the globe in which we go about our business. Passing the time of day with neighbors or workers outside, and visiting with friends inside. Sharing the common news and groaning or laughing together about all kinds of aches, joys and frustrations.

Then there’s that other ‘parish’ that’s just mine. That would be you, plus anyone else who reads this post from my little outpost on the planet.

Our pastor recently challenged us to name our parishes. The places where we ‘do our thing’ most of the time. So, given my lifestyle these days, you’re It! Whether you like it or not.

Please note: This isn’t a political platform. It does, however, touch the political realm from time to time. How could it not? We can hear the trees falling and the buzz-saws grinding away every day.

Nonetheless, when I get up each day, the news isn’t my guide to who I am or where I’m headed. You can count on me to remain a follower of Jesus Christ, no matter how much I falter.

I can’t say it often enough: I’m not God, and you’re not God.

You’re welcome here. It doesn’t matter what your name is, your country of origin, your political party, your wealth or lack thereof, your attitude toward current or past administrations, the state in which you live, the color of your voting district, the color of your skin, your gender, your age or your immigration status. Plus anything else I left out of that wildly incomplete list.

If you don’t agree with me, it’s OK. I’m not God and you’re not God. Which holds true whether you believe in God or not.

You are, however, wildly welcome to muddle along with me through whatever comes next.

Happy Monday!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 July 2018
Photo found at idlethoughts.blog

6 Comments
July 20, 2018

green fields

green fields wave
the valley beckons
a warm welcome

life in full heat
rises with a rush
toward summer sky

Yesterday I drove through Valley Forge National Park on my way to a doctor’s appointment. The sky was cloudless and the sun was blistering hot. No problem. Driving through VF is always a delight and a feast for the eyes. Coming home it was almost ten degrees hotter, yet just as beautiful, uncrowded and peaceful. Like a green, tree-blessed island in the middle of a hot stormy sea.

I’m tempted to feel voiceless these days. Yes, I write, and I post. I often wonder what becomes of the verbiage generated by me and by thousands of others writing about our current situation in the USA. Yet I can’t keep silent. It only makes things worse.

There’s precious life in this country waiting for release, along with buckets of pain. Fractured relationships need healing. Anger about injustice and betrayal still need a full hearing. And no one can be all things to all people.

So I’m counting on being one of the small things that matter. Like a blade of grass, a grain of wheat or even a grain of sand. Or how about a wild flower of the field?

Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 July 2018
Photo of Valley Forge National Park found at flickr.com, Paris Images

2 Comments
July 16, 2018

Unsorted

The feeling I get
Standing before an audience
Knowing all I must do is
Read the words on the page
With grace and clarity

The feeling I got
Sitting in church yesterday
Listening to a young woman
Fill the air with a Brahms Intermezzo
Evoking unexpected grief

Friday’s open mic night was great. I read 5 short poems, saving my favorite two (of the five) for the end. So why did I feel unsorted, out of control and uncertain I was on solid ground? Because of the last two poems. Though different in tone, each was about aging.

One was Life flew south last winter; the second was Feeling pretty. I admire the way George MacDonald writes poems about being an ‘old soul.’ Sometimes I think I’ve been just that all my life.

I’m used to hearing people my age and older describe unexpected aches, pain and grief. Usually health issues, but also loss of friends and family members.

I’m not, however, accustomed to hearing older women and men describing in poetic form their feelings of living with loss and unexpected health issues. Perhaps I’m not looking in the right places.

At any rate, I find writing about this time in my life is comforting and rewarding. Especially when it’s in poetic form. Reading a few of my poems Friday evening was icing on the cake. A vulnerable, somewhat scripted way of sharing pieces of my life with a mixed audience of children, young people and adults.

Then, on Sunday morning the offertory was Brahms Intermezzo in A Major Opus 118. A young woman performed it on the piano, from her heart and memory. She’s a member of our church and studies at Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia.

I know this piece. I’ve played it many times, though not in the last few years. Her performance was magnificent, and I burst into sobs as others around me applauded. It wasn’t just the beauty of her playing. It was knowing that I’ll likely never again play the piano with that kind of freedom and confidence.

I’ve gained much in the last few years. Still, the losses sometimes undo me. Especially when they arrive unexpectedly in beautiful packages such as poems and music that evoke tears of grief and gratitude.

Happy Monday! I pray you’ll be surprised this week by gifts that undo you in a good way.
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 July 2018
Photo found at dancearchives.net

12 Comments
July 13, 2018

Open Mic Night!

I woke up this morning already excited about this evening. I get to read some of my poems again! Out loud! In front of a friendly audience of children, young people, parents and friends of all ages. In the gym at the church. A fundraiser to help support our young people’s summer project in Philadelphia.

Despite my heavy-duty awesome age, I still feel like a little kid when I share bits of my life by way of my poetry.

I’ve never been one for writing or telling stories. I know a good storyteller when I hear or read one. That means I know I’m not One of Them. Though happy accidents do happen now and then.

Prose has been my main thing for most of my life. Yet I’m more than ready to let it take a back seat to poetry. In fact, when I reread some of my prose, I hear the poet in me already sneaking a poetic spirit into my prose.

I can’t help thinking about Emily Dickinson’s lovely poem, “They shut me up in Prose.” None of that flighty poetry stuff! We want to hear a story or a well-reasoned argument. Something we can take apart, piece by piece. Or at least keep under control. To keep you under control, of course.

The ability to write prose with an ear for cadence and choice of words got me where I am today. Not just as a student, educator and administrator, but as an adult woman whose childhood and youth were ruled by a relentlessly letter-of-the law father. Flights of poetic fancy were frowned upon. As were overt emotions spontaneously expressed. With the occasional exception of Christmas and birthdays.

When I read through early posts about my childhood and youth, I’m grateful for the ability to write prose. Yet even there I hear the cadences of poetry. Though it isn’t direct, it’s a persistent sign of life already aching for attention.

So tonight I get to revel in the poet I’m becoming. One step closer to the little girl and woman I am and have always been on the inside.

Am I going to give up prose? No way. I’m not locked up in anything–not in poetry and not in prose. Still, you can expect more poetry. A delightfully underground way of getting just about anywhere.

Cheers!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 13 July 2018
Image found at resetco.org

8 Comments
July 10, 2018

framed by a doorway

framed by a doorway
reflecting evening light
the old woman smiles

caught between two worlds
long days shorten by seconds
stealing into night

distant mourning doves
serenade the close of day
twinkling stars applaud

What a strange time of life this is turning out to be. I’m torn in different directions. Not by choice, but simply because I’m here and not there, this age not that age. Though I know this is the last chapter, my get up and go instincts still want to go as though I were 40 years younger.

The most difficult word in the 3 stanzas above was ‘smile.’ My first take said the old woman ‘stands.’ Then I tried ‘smiles.’ And then I tried ‘sighs.’ Partly because I do a lot of that these days. Not sighs of sadness so much as resignation. Not quite like giving up, but an acknowledgment of limitations I would like to dismiss, erase, be done with.

This morning, however, I went back to ‘smiles.’ Why? Because I love the photo above and I love smiles. Most of all, because the best part of being an ‘old woman’ is the freedom to please no one but myself.

The myself of the poem loves standing there watching the sunset, thinking about gifts I’ve received in this life, smiling and enjoying the last bits of each day, doing things that bring me joy, and getting through the other stuff without a long list of additional duties waiting for me at work.

Hoping you’re giving and getting plenty of smiles today!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 July 2018
Photo found at cityofsacramento.org, Sacramento, California

10 Comments
July 2, 2018

Little Things

After a long weekend without WiFi, everything is up and running today. Which means I have no excuse for not posting my heart out!

Over the weekend we had electricity, thanks to our generator, but no internet or telephone service. And since we’re total abstainers from smart phones, we had only our antiquated but perfectly fine cell phones to rely upon—though we must go outside most of the time to use them because our house is in a dead zone.

If you’re enjoying autumn or even winter-like weather, I want you to know we’re roasting along with countless others in a horrendous heat wave. Right now the temperature where we live is 97 degrees Fahrenheit, but it feels like 117 degrees Fahrenheit.

So now what? I’ve been thinking about the power of small things. The little things that, when seen from a certain angle, speak more loudly than all the words in the world. For example–

  • Fireflies in our back yard Friday evening as we sat on the back porch steps while D spent time on hold, waiting for various service representatives to help with our WiFi situation (help arrived Sunday afternoon). Nonetheless, it was a beautifully calm, not hot and humid evening. “We should do this more often!”
  • A little creature flitting about in the dusk—maybe a bat? We used to see hordes of them. They’re making a small comeback, though. Emphasis on small, and on hope.
  • A planet, I don’t know which one, setting on the southwestern horizon, dropping along the dark silhouette of an oak tree down the street. “Day is dying in the west; heaven is touching earth with rest….”

Here’s another example from our church bulletin on Sunday. Our Vacation Bible Camp children (about 200) collected offerings of their own money to help support a family in Nicaragua.

Here’s what their ‘loose change’ looked like at the end of the week:

  • 2956 pennies (1 cent each)
  • 439 nickels (5 cents each)
  • 701 dimes (10 cents each)
  • 818 quarters (25 cents each)
  • 5 dollar coins ($1.00 each)

Total: $331.11 – a reminder that even our worthless pennies and loose change are important in the economy of following Jesus. He gave what he had, even though it seemed very little, even useless, in the face of religious and political abuse of power.

Sometimes I wonder what I might do to become part of the solution. Especially to injustices that seem to have a vice grip on our nation and others. I feel small and lost when it comes to resolving deeply entrenched social and political problems.

In addition, it seems things are getting worse. Am I ready? If so, for what?

No answers. Nonetheless, my pennies count. What I see and say and point to matters. If not for anyone else, then for me. A small roadmap of where I’ve been, where I am today, and glimmers of where I’d like to be tomorrow.

For whatever it’s worth, your pennies count as well, along with what you see, say and point to. Especially when it comes from your heart.

Thanks for listening!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 July 2018
Top photo thanks to FireflyExperience.org
Last photo thanks to boingboing.net

7 Comments
June 29, 2018

My basket full of gems

Friday. The end of a week of reading through a large basket full of notes, cards, programs and other bits and pieces of my life as an academic. So many gems, and I have more to go.

There’s a relentlessness about being a professor or an administrator. Especially the latter. Rarely enough time to appreciate what’s happening in the moment.

The bad stuff can fly away with the setting sun, as far as I’m concerned. But it’s those little stars that shine through the glaring darkness during the day that I didn’t have time to appreciate fully back then.

I know this for sure: In academic life it’s never just about me or just about you. It’s about all of us. It’s about the shaping of a generation that will hopefully do, say and change the way we do business with each other. For the better, of course.

Sadly, there’s also a sense of time running out. Not just because of relentlessly evil and despicable deadlines, but because we all have just so much energy to burn before it’s downhill all the way.

And so there I sat on the small sofa in my office, already on the downhill, picking bits of my past out of the basket. Surprise by surprise. Memory by memory. Tear by tear. Sometimes happy, sometimes sad.

It was a very good week. I haven’t quite known how to write about what happened during my seminary years. Going through my basket, I’m finally beginning to see a way of doing this piece by piece, keeping the focus on myself.

This morning I read an editorial about women who’ve earned a PhD. It described the writer’s sad experience of being dissed because she had earned a PhD, and because using her title (Dr.) on social media was somehow being a braggart, even though men do this without the same repercussions.

In a strange way, this helps me frame my basket of memories. I’m the proud owner of a Ph.D. which I earned all by myself (with the help, of course, of professors and colleagues). I don’t hide this reality. Yet having this degree meant everything and nothing when it came to negotiating the deep waters of seminary life.

It was important to lead with clarity in the classroom and in the dean’s office. It was even more important, however, to lead with my heart. The PhD was my calling card; my heart, however, walked in the door every day. Sometimes heavy, sometimes light.

This morning I was out early for a walk before the heat and humidity became unbearable. It’s a joy to be retired and able to walk outdoors, though I sorely miss the camaraderie of being with fellow pilgrims on a journey into the unknown.

Hoping your weekend includes Sabbath rest and time to enjoy being outside or at a window taking in our Creator’s great outdoor sanctuary!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 29 June 2018
Photo found at chaumierelesiris.com

5 Comments
June 28, 2018

In the presence of my enemies

It’s January 2006. I got to my office early, and was preparing to drive to the airport and catch a flight to Houston, Texas, to be with my sister Diane who was dying of ALS. She had opted for comfort care at home. No food and no medication. Just fluids and whatever would comfort her. This might be my last visit with her.

As I was about to leave my office, the phone rang. It was D. His premonitions were correct. The president of the university had just requested D’s resignation. So here it was, after several years of difficult personnel and budget issues.

No, D didn’t want me to cancel my flight. Instead, I flew to Houston in a stupor of spousal pain and rage, and gave D a call that evening. I continued as dean at the seminary. D was now free to follow his heart and eventually accepted a position with an international organization he’d helped birth.

Now it’s August 2008. I’m on a platform in the university gym along with other dignitaries. We’re in full regalia, ready for the fall convocation, installation of new faculty, and installation of the new chancellor of the university. The man chosen as the next provost, one of D’s friends and faculty colleagues, would be installed as the new chancellor. My job was to offer the installation prayer.

Inside, I was a mess. When the time came, I stood at the lectern facing the university faculty along with our seminary faculty. A number of university faculty had been unhappy with D’s administration. Some bitterly so.

On the outside I was a professional. On the inside I was in melt-down, shaking in my spirit and fully aware I was facing some university faculty who felt like enemies, along with many others who still grieved D’s resignation.

The newly minted chancellor stood next to me, and I invited everyone to stand with me for the prayer. It was simple and direct. And yes, it was a prayer for me and for D, not just for the new chancellor.

The prayer made use of Psalm 23. I couldn’t find the original script. It went something like this:

Because the Lord is your shepherd and knows everything about you, you will never lack for anything you need.
When you’re weary, may you find rest in green pastures, and follow your shepherd to pools of quiet waters.
When your soul is troubled, may you find restoration, and be guided in paths of right relationships that bring honor to your shepherd.

When you go through times of deepest darkness and despair, may you fear no evil;
Your shepherd will be with you, to find and comfort you no matter what happens.
When your shepherd prepares a banquet for you, and your enemies are looking on or sitting at the table, know that you are an honored guest in the Lord’s house, worthy of the best wine in the world.

Finally, remember that this goodness and mercy will be with you all the days of your life, and you will dwell in the house of the Lord, your good shepherd, forever.

Amen

I don’t understand all the dynamics of this event. Nonetheless, when I sat down I was calm inside, ready for whatever came next.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 June 2018

11 Comments