The Changing Holidays

The Christmas festivities are over, the tree is down, and the decorations are neatly tucked away for next year. As all the evidence slowly disappears, I am left to reflect on all the memories that were made. I kept several traditions for yet another year, started a new one or two, and said goodbye to some others. Change keeps things from being too predictable—always reminding me what really matters in life—this moment.

The grand-kids made ginger bread houses, watched movies, and enjoyed hot-coco in the morning—a tradition that only changes by the number of kids able to attend each year—could be five, or maybe ten. Each year a new grand-baby joins, while one of the older ones gets too busy to attend.

This year some of the grand-kids got to decorate cookies with Aunt Robin. She brought our her large bucket of cookie cut-outs and special decorating supplies, and with the “help” of some little ones, the new cookie tradition was born.

Christmas Eve has traditionally been spent with my two daughters and four step-kids. It is a tradition that has been going on since 1985, with few exceptions. There were two kids and three grand-kids missing this year, yet the gathering continued as it has for the past thirty years. This Christmas Eve was once again filled with fun, gifts, and good food. Eleven grand-kids got to share the bond that is created when traditions are kept year after year. I always feel happy when my family prioritizes time for these gatherings—my hope is that they will find it as meaningful as I do.

Christmas day brought as much uncertainty as it did predictability. The food, games, and guest were reminiscent of Christmas’ of past. Health issues with two of the family matriarchs reminded me just how memorable this Christmas may end up being. I had to take my Aunt Robin to the ER Christmas night for a fever (she has acute leukemia), but at least it didn’t happen until after all the Christmas guests left. I snuggled up on the couch in her hospital room, and felt blessed that she was well enough to participate in making some wonderful Christmas memories.

My mom’s dementia added a new dimension this Christmas since she didn’t recognize many familiar faces. I tried not to focus on the sadness that her reality brought, and instead felt grateful she and my father could spend a few hours with the family. Mom may not know my name, but she sure can kick my butt in Skip-Bo!

While the emotions vacillated, as they have during past Christmas’, there is always an abundance of gratitude I feel for all that is good—for the laughter—the sharing—and for the family moments that matter most when all else is gone.

May your upcoming year be filled with more joy than pain, more health than sickness, and more gratitude than bitterness. Change will come whether we welcome it or not, just don’t forget to see the good in it as well.

Gavin, Bellamy, Winnie, Jack, Justin, Jordan, Baylor, Nick, Essien, Ashley, Norah, and Nana

Kendra, Jackson, Nana, Baylor, Norah, Winnie, Jordan, Bellamy, Auntie Kelli, Justin, and Gavin.

Aunt Robin and Norah.

Norah, Winnie, Bella, and Baylor making cookies with Aunt Robin.

Movie Time.

Collin, Norah, Kendra, Tammy, Chelsey, and Ray

Peter, Terry, Dad, Mom, Tammy, Ray,Gary, and Venita

Traditions at Nana's---the place where cousins make memories.

Like so many people, I love traditions. I especially cherish the anticipation and excitement that the little kids add to the experience. This past weekend, I had seven grand-kids over to carve pumpkins and have a sleep over. The ages ranged from 13 years old down to 1 year. I have been carrying this tradition on for nearly 27 years (only missing one year). My oldest grand-daughter was planning on joining us, but she was busy delivering a beautiful baby girl.

While the kids have changed through the years, the activities and excitement has remained the same. We always start with the pumpkin carving, then finish with popcorn and a movie. When the kids wake up in the morning, they immediately ask when the hot-coco will be ready. We usually sit outside under the heaters so we can watch the birds and squirrels.

Year after year, I do my best to keep these traditions alive, however, it becomes more challenging with each passing year. As our family grows, and our lives get busier and busier, it takes more of an effort to bring everyone together.

Grief and loss can be great reminders of how precious our time with family and friends are and how important it is to keep our traditions alive. It also feels like a way to keep those who have passed, a part of our present. I am feeling blessed today that my grand-kids were as excited as I was to keep our pumpkin carving tradition alive!

Trials and Tribulations

Chelsey and Norah

Kendra and her babies.

On April 20th Ray and I drove our motor-home with our (new to us) Yamaha scooter on the back to Alki Beach for the day. Our girls and grand-kids met us for a day of fun and exploration. The kids scoured the beach to find crabs, sea-urchins, centipedes, and shells. It was a perfect day, until it wasn't.

After the family left, Ray and I took a practice drive on our new scooter. All went well until our departure from the restaurant. As we were pulling out of our parking spot, our scooter sputtered, which caused Ray to give it a little extra gas. Needless to say, we lunged forward and ultimately came to a sudden halt as we both hit the pavement.

To spare you the dreadful details, lets just say that the course of our next five months would be changed in that very instance. Ray suffered a fractured collar bone and a rib, and I sprained my ankle and required stitches in my hand to close a deep cut in my palm.

Aside from our pain and suffering, our much needed trip to Hawaii the following week was the first casualty of our freak accident. As each week passed, Ray slowly and painfully made improvements, while I seemed to just get worse. The first X-rays confirmed my bones weren't broken and I only suffered a sprain, but that didn't provide much explanation for my continued pain. I wore a clunky boot for a week, used a knee walker the following week, and still found no relief.  After 3 weeks, I requested an MRI of my ankle, hoping it would reveal a reason for my pain--which it did--sort of. The doctor informed me that I needed to get in quickly so he could put a cast on my ankle because the severed ligaments would certainly not heal unless my foot was immobilized... which meant I had to stay off it for the next three weeks.

I was diligent about following his orders, even though the timing was horrible. We were just about to start a week long vacation with  our three grand-kids (two, four, and six years old). This was a vacation that had been anticipated for some time, and the kids were eager to do everything we had planned. Not ones to disappoint, we managed to do it all---even though it wasn't without its challenges. 

Bella, Winnie, Baylor, and Nana

Finally the day arrived to get my cast removed and start the healing process...or not. Once the cast was taken off, the doctor examined my ankle, and quickly determined that it wasn't healing and surgery was the only option....that was on a Thursday....surgery was the following Monday.

The same Monday that my grand-daughter, Jordan, was to graduate from high school. An event that I was very excited to be at...an event that I was devastated to miss.

Nana and Jordan

Though everyone tried to make me feel better by reminding me that things could be worse, I was pretty set on wanting to just feel a bit sorry for myself. To miss out on so much was just too much at times, not to mention the misery of lugging around a cast, walker, and crutches. I cried. I felt sad and frustrated. I felt grateful that it wasn't worse. I was humbled by the support of my husband, family, and friends. 

The surgery went well despite his discovery that my ankle was much more damaged than initially thought. Not only did he have to replace the ligament, he had to scrape the damaged cartilage from the broken bone...hmmm that at least explains why I was hurting so bad before the surgery.

I was resting at home that evening, the numbing medicine slowly wearing off...and then suddenly the pain hit. I wasn't at all prepared for the pain that I felt, even though the doctor said ,"It is a painful surgery." Perhaps I blocked that part out. 

A bit difficult to do therapy when the therapist is wacked-out on pain meds, I was forced to cancel my clients for the whole week---not the way I wanted to spend my priceless vacation days!  I hoped that if I rested I would feel well enough to not have to cancel another trip. But, by day three, the pain barely subsiding and the pain drugs taking their toll on me, I gave in. The wedding in Napa Valley that I was excited to see would go on without us. It was a trip that we were taking with my daughter, Chelsey, and I was so sad (again) to miss out on that experience.

Sooo, here I sit. Contemplating six more weeks of casts, crutches, walkers, and missing out. No jet skiing for me this year, no swimming, no hiking, no walking, and... no choice but to change my attitude! I have given myself enough time to grieve the events that I have missed and to feel bad for the challenges I am going through.  While I believe that it is okay for all of us to accept and feel those not so pleasant feelings....

....it is also important to remember the good feelings too. I have to remind myself that not only could things be better, but they could be REALLY worse. I am grateful that my loving husband is healing and has graciously been waiting on me hand and foot. My friends and family have called to offer help, bring flowers, and show they care. I have enjoyed watching movies, relaxing (okay sort of), visiting, and resting. I am grateful for good medical care. I am relieved the pain is diminishing. I am thankful my job doesn't require me to walk. I am thankful my brain is no longer under the influence of those helpful, yet icky, pain medications. 

I am reminded today how quickly our life circumstances can change and how important it is everyday to take a look around and simply find gratitude in all the things that are going right.

Embracing Gratitude

Have you ever felt guilty for counting your blessings after witnessing someone else's pain or tragedy?

I recently had a woman share with me that she felt guilty for embracing the good in her own life after she left the home of her dying friend. She felt as though she was cheating somehow because her gratitude came at the expense of someone else's misfortune.

I remember feeling similarly after cancer and blindness taught my brother a new perspective about gratitude, and I was benefiting from his valuable life lessons without "paying the price" or having to sacrifice in the same way as my brother.

Ironically, my brother once said, "It takes a lot more effort to live a life filled with gratitude for what you have when don't have the painful experience of having lost it." He too felt like he was somehow cheating because he didn't believe it was much of a choice to find gratitude for what good he had left in his life, because he learned the hard way how quickly it all could go away. He felt sad that he couldn't see how good his life was before his terminal diagnosis, and that he wasted valuable time focusing on the struggles and stress in his life.

We all have experienced difficult things in our lives, and we usually want to help others avoid the pain that we have gone through. I have found that this feeling is no different when someone is dying or dealing with a life threatening illness. Many people have shared that it helps them find purpose in their suffering if they can help others through the process. 

I know for myself, I will do whatever I can to help one other couple avoid the pain of divorce, or to encourage someone else to be proactive with their health as to avoid a worse diagnosis, or to urge them to share their gratitude for those they love not knowing for certain that they will be there tomorrow.

My years of working in the Emergency Room, and my time helping people die, has taught me that the greatest gift we can give to our selves, and those that teach us through their pain,  is to embrace gratitude for each and every blessing in our life. I believe that the greatest respect we can give to those who have suffered or experienced tragedy, is to learn from the lessons they can teach us.

I challenge you to pause for a moment, and despite your circumstances, think about five things you are grateful for...if you are having difficulty thinking of something, you can start with the blessing of being able to see the words you are reading.

Gratitude for the simple things remind us to keep life's struggles in perspective.

Tribute to Kristy LeMond

…“untimely goodbyes and finding a new balance…”(Blog post by Kristy LeMond June 2012)

“So, I know a lot of you know I am back, maybe some of you still don’t and so this is mostly for you. I have been debating on whether I want to keep this blog going, on whether I wanted to update what has been happening recently on this page. It has so perfectly documented this past year full of new adventures and beautiful travels that it just seemed wrong to “taint” it with something negative, or so I originally thought. Now I’m thinking, what has to make this next experience negative? Why can’t it be a good thing? I think this could be my most epic adventure yet and so I’m letting go of my preconceived notion that this blog has to be only about the beautiful parts of my adventures because really, it’s all about the journey.”

It was a journey indeed…

The house was filled with many friends and family holding vigil while Kathy (Kristy’s mom) and I prayed at Kristy’s bedside. It was the most amazing experience that I have ever witnessed, and to share it with this beautiful young woman’s mother made it even more sacred. A huge, excited smile spread across Kristy’s face, she took a deep breath, and then she was gone. Kathy and I looked at each other for validation that what we just witnessed really did happen. Only a few days earlier, I had asked Kristy who she wanted with her when she passed on…she said, “I want my mom, and I want you there to help.” The fact that it was the first time both Kathy and I were alone with Kristy, made her untimely passing even more surreal.

It has now been five years since that May Day--five years of amazing transformations for all who were blessed by this earth angel. Kristy not only has scholarships and funds in her honor, which offer support locally as well as around the world, she also has touched thousands of those who carry her spirit with them every day.

As a young teenager, I remember Kristy was always happy and very inquisitive. When I was her church youth group leader, she kept me on my toes with her deep questions and curious mind. Her dimpled smile came to life with every vibrant laugh. Kristy was an avid volleyball player, a sorority sister, an excellent student, and a servant at heart. She enjoyed traveling abroad and doing missionary type work with the extremely under-privileged. Kristy ended up in Chile to be a teacher--a place where she felt very at home. It was during her time in Chile that she discovered she had cancer. Saddened to have to leave the students whom she came to love, she returned home in June 2012 to begin treatment.

I reconnected with Kristy one week before her death, April 23, 2013. Prompted by one of her best friends, Missy, I reached out to offer my help as Kristy laid in a UW hospital bed. She asked for help with coming to grips with her reality---she was dying. She feared that her faith must be wavering since she no longer believed that she would be healed. I encouraged Kristy with the truth that the cancer would never be able to rob her of the miracle, because Her Life was the miracle.

After helping her re-frame her mindset about faith and death, she became eager to return home to share the rest of her days surrounded by her family and friends. Kristy wanted all the barriers to be broken around the subject of death and dying. She felt as if there was an elephant in the room, and so she asked me to talk to her friends and family about what to expect as her body was dying, and she wanted to be present for the meeting. She wanted all of them to learn what she did, that God had not failed her and that there were miracles going on all around her.  I found the fact that she wanted to be a part of the conversation not only brave and courageous, but selfless. Kristy understood it would be yet another opportunity for her to bring comfort to her every person in the room, which included her brother, parents, uncles and aunts, and about thirteen friends (and some of their parents). We laughed and cried, shared stories, watched movies, played games and puzzles, and celebrated the life of one amazing young woman.

Once she felt free to express all her feelings about the process, yes even the not so happy ones, then her even vivacious Kristy personality took over. Her desire to die well and to make meaning of the process became her new mission.  Kristy was feeling very tired and would get frustrated that she couldn’t do more.  I reminded Kristy daily that the very thing she stood for—helping and serving others—required someone to be the receiver of that help.  It was now her turn to let others be the helper and she the receiver.  This was the part of her journey that was most difficult, as it is for most of us. Kristy learned that she had to practice trusting in God’s promise to bring peace; she could not just make herself feel at peace.  Every day she crossed off something on her to do list…write a letter, read a letter, make a phone call to a friend…she was becoming better at just being and trusting.

Lying on her couch, an oxygen tube helping her breath and too weak to move around, Kristy was determined to read each and every email before she passed away. With the help from her brother, many friends, and family she read the heart felt words from all who admired and adored her. The process took about 5 hours, and upon finishing the last of over 500 emails from friends, family, and strangers spanning around the world, Kristy said it best, “I lived a good life! Not many people get to hear how they have touched the lives of their friends and family. I did it right!”

That May 1st afternoon, many of us gathered at the nearby park to support each other, share in our grief, and to release balloons in Kristy’s honor. We looked up and there was a rainbow in the sunny sky, almost like a skid mark to Heaven. Kristy said she wanted to do something big at the end…she has continued to do big things despite being here only in spirit.

Gratitude, honor, and humility are a few feelings that come to mind each day I think of the blessings I have received for being a part of her journey.

Thank you, LeMond family, Sisters of the Heart, and all the friendships I have received as a result of our shared experience. I reflect this morning on how Kristy’s powerful spirit continues to keep us connected and reminded of the significance of sunflowers and the mission to Wake Up and Live!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiXbtoiKGZw&feature=youtu.be

Barry, Kathy, and Kevin

Sisters of the Heart

This beautiful song by Kristy's Uncle, Jack Stanton, and her cousin, Luke Stanton, was performed shortly after Kristy passed away.

Caring vs Codependent

I have been humbled and honored by the enthusiastic support I have received since launching my book, Blind Awakening. While everyone's kind words have brought me immense joy, I must admit that I have also felt a bit guilty for accepting the praise for something I couldn't help but do. You see, I am a caretaker by nature, so there wasn't actually a choice I had to make. Like so many other caretakers, there is just something in us that drives us to help those in need.

I know for me, especially during the time in my life that Jeff lived with us, I would never have considered not caring for my brother. For that matter, I volunteered to take care of other people as well, regardless of whether it was the best thing to do for me or my family. I absolutely believed that it was the right thing to do, even though others may not require the same of themselves. It's just the way I was made--or so I thought.

The truth is that I was not just caring, but I was also very codependent back then. I put everyone's needs and feelings above my own. I was the ultimate "people-pleaser." Of course I didn't know this about myself, and I certainly wouldn't have understood the problem with it had someone tried to point it out to me (I'm pretty sure a few people may have tried). I felt deeply responsible to help others regardless of the cost to me and my family. To not help someone felt wrong on so many levels.

I have since learned a great deal about codependency and how to set healthy boundaries for myself. As a result, I am better able to take care of myself, as well as still caring for others. I no longer take over the responsibility for others, but rather choose who I help and to what degree. This would have felt selfish in the past, but now I see very clearly how it is more accurately self-care. While I am still a caretaker, I am no longer willing to pay the sacrificial price for being a "people-pleaser."

I encourage my caring friends to take a moment to ask themselves a few questions: Are you doing for others that which they can do for themselves? Do you know more about others feelings and needs than you do your own? Do you feel indispensable to the person you are caring for? Do you deny your true feelings or true-self? Are you taking care of yourself in the same loving manner you are caring for others? Are you allowing other people to help you carry the responsibilities?

If you answered "yes" to two or more of the first four questions, and "no" to the last two, you may find it beneficial to learn about codependency. I hope that by understanding the difference between being a codependent and being a caretaker you would learn to set healthy boundaries, and ultimately find the true joy of giving. It can be a difficult journey to change from who we think we are, to the person we perhaps were meant to be, or want to become--but certainly a journey well worth taking!

Death is not Failure

I was recently in a discussion with a friend about someone he knew who was "fighting" ALS. He said that the reason his friend was doing so well was because of his positive attitude and mental toughness.

I immediately found myself feeling unsettled about this common misconception---that if we "fight" hard enough and stay positive we can control our outcome and maybe won't die. Not only is that wrong, it contributes to the assumption that death is failure. It leaves those who die despite their every effort to live, feeling like they somehow didn't do enough.

I have personally worked with many people who "fought" hard and had very positive attitudes, yet died from their disease. And conversely, those who were negative and didn't take great care of themselves, lived much longer than ever expected. While attitude can affect one's experience with their disease, it doesn't necessarily dictate the outcome.

A few years ago, I worked with a 24 year old girl dying of cancer who shared that she was worried she must not have genuine faith because she was losing her ability to believe that God was going to cure her cancer. She was unfortunately told by a well-meaning person that true faith was never giving up hope that God would heal her. The reality was that she wasn't being cured of her cancer and in fact was weeks away from dying--and NOT because she didn't believe or have enough faith--and NOT because God failed her--rather it was because she had an aggressive terminal cancer. God does not define that healing means primarily a physical cure. 

As with so many people I have helped die, this girl found peace, shared hope and comfort with those around her, and was able to share her faith with many during her final week of life. Similarly, my brother used to say, "Do not pray for my cancer or my blindness to go away, because I see God more clearly in the dark than I ever have in the light." His cancer and blindness cured his ailing soul.

People who are sick and facing death don't need to be further victimized by these negative assumptions. I believe these perceptions are perpetuated so that people can have a sense of control. If we could only learn that death is a part of living, then we could learn how to find peace with the reality that we truly don't have control over when and how we die. Accepting death as a possible outcome despite our efforts, allows us the opportunity to focus on living and maximizing the impact we have on family and friends. In the end, hope and healing doesn't necessarily mean that our physical body survives--it is often the case that it is our relationships and our own souls that are cured.

Fighting does not necessarily equal healing, accepting death does not mean you are giving up, and a cure does not only occur when your physical body survives.