thankful
Grateful to have returned home after a peaceful and inspiring cruise, the luggage was placed just inside the door. It was already dark, and we had stopped for some southern barbeque on the way home from the airport. It had been a long day of “hurry up and wait” as we had progressed from the ship to the airport, then through security and finally to the plane for which we had been waiting quite some time. The arrival back to the cold weather and the crisp darkness set our heads to the planning that was needed for the next day. We were scheduled for early morning duty at church to prepare breakfast for those in need and counting on the warmth of the food and surroundings. Secure in the warmth of the bed, the night seemed to have flown away as the lights flickered, and the printer in the office attempted a reset. Suddenly, darkness prevailed as ice and snow had covered the ground. It seemed doubtful that we would be able to navigate the roads and streets for breakfast preparation later that morning. The power was out. Without power, we had no resource for heat other than the cast iron stove occupying a space where dust collected routinely. Igniting the fire and feeling the warmth of the flames burning steadily in the old stove gave us pause to express our gratitude for resource we had not intended to use. Roads were impassable and a journey anywhere seemed unlikely. For three days were navigated the path of absence of electrical power and recalled how utterly “normal” that would have been in the times of my father and mother’s early years here at the farm. A stronger appreciation for their perseverance and dedication to living the country life was embraced. As the cold got colder, the congestion from what appeared to be an infection acquired while jam packed in a small commuter plane from Fort Lauderdale, to Raleigh, began to take its hold. Fever, chills, a cold house and huddling in a small room for temporary heat soon evolved as three days later the power returned and some sunshine shone on the faces of congested and coughing participants in a slow but steady recovery. Every glimmer of the shining sun reminded us that Warmth and light are best embraced with a heart of gratitude.
The date indicates that Summer should be near its close. The temperature and humidity indicate otherwise. Placing the tarp over the passenger seat of the truck in preparation for Gracie’s transport to the groomer left this PD hosting Boomer with a sticky neck, forehead and overall overheated body. Gracie had already left about three of herself lying all over the floor of the house as she shed her golden hair with little effort and spread it around generously even on the mantle after rolling on the floor and then shaking herself vigorously. Her majesty is not accustomed to walking leashed, since the farm yard is her playground and she never wanders far from the comfort of her shelter. A walk to the groomer, however, is fraught with commands to slow down, as my arm is outstretched, and my shuffling feet are forced to hobble haphazardly forward. The two-hour duration of her nose to tail-tip grooming procedure left me with time to try some shopping and a leisurely lunch at one of my favorite eateries. Even with the full dose of dopamine replenishment in place, these feet attached to these aging legs shuffled ever so slowly to stroll through a couple of nearby stores. Lunch was delicious, but the task of shuffling to order and then taking a seat for its delivery left me challenging my thinking about “eating out” while the pooch was prepped. Soon the text came that Gracie was groomed and ready for her departure back to the home she so dearly loves sharing her fur within. A groomed and less-haired dog prompted the thought that the few days of shedding deposits occupying the floors would best be hosted in the trash by way of the vacuum cleaner. Emptying the canister numerous times amid raging resistance from a body hosting on what has become known as an “off day,” reminded me that life is NOT like it used to be. This disease is real and its manifestations can be at times daunting. The plans I had for the rest of the day and evening were soon “tabled” for a time of relative quiet and intended relaxation to allow the pain and stiffness to subside. This prideful participant in the sometimes-painful Parkinson’s Disease process is frequently faced with what sometimes appears to be the choice between “giving up” or “sucking up” in the throughs of disease symptomology. I have discovered, however, that there is yet another response that serves this host better. That is the act of “offering up” with a grateful heart those expressions of thankfulness for so many things that bring us through challenges. The list would fill a lifetime! A grateful heart is a thriving one!
The breeze beneath the old pecan tree was blowing from the west and feeling like someone opened a sauna door. Just three days from the official declaration of Summer and the temperature and humidity combined was breathtaking. Just a swift visit to the garden to gather a few cucumbers rendered this septuagenarian worthy of a visit to the clothes dryer for a fresh pair of shorts and a shirt. As the recliner in the air-conditioned den embraced this somewhat stiff and slow-moving host to Parkinson’s, I had a flashback to days gone by when as just a young boy I sat in this same room in the middle of summer trying to cool down from the swelter outside with the assistance of only an electric fan blowing the semi fresh air drifting through the open windows. During that time, summer on the farm was fraught with constant daily chores interspersed with an early afternoon respite (and nap, if one could endure the heat while sleeping) from the burning heat and sun outside. Perspiration was one’s companion, but it never seemed to be a deterrent to the ever-eager activities of the then young and restless farm boy. Clad only in shorts, without shirt or shoes, this browned and secure youngster roamed the fields, pasture, and woodlands finding arrowheads, crayfish, terrapins (box turtles) and an occasional salamander. Many years have passed since then and this blessed adventure called life has taken me around the world to places I only dreamed about in the days of my youth (and many I never knew existed). The joy of the childhood memories is enhanced as I look thankfully upon the walls wherein those memories were made and offer up my heartfelt gratitude for the young life experience as a farm boy. The barefooted youngster has become a want to be secure footed oldster living in the air-conditioned abode from which it all began, filled with a heart of gratitude for not only this place, but also the gift of others with whom I share the richness of this humble place called home!
Fog shrouds the landscape in a way that makes the trees and gazebo appear three dimensional. Light is just beginning to break through the mist on the eastern horizon. The days are beginning to become slightly shorter and the time is approaching when the summer will be over. The presence of our granddaughter over the past few weeks has been a gift to cherish. Little did I know that being busy with “horse camp,” riding lessons, numerous appointments and just plain banter and chatter would be the frosting on this summer pudding. Soon her teenage years may distract her, but for now I choose to focus on the joy we all share in experiencing life with the wonder of youth spewing forth exuberantly. Whether the result of physical therapy, warm weather, the distraction of pre-teen agendas, or all of the above, the symptoms of my chronic ailment have seemed to demand less attention. I am possessed with gratitude for the opportunity to be a part of creating fond memories for my granddaughter and for the flexibility to participate. The potter is not done with the clay and I am thankful to have been a witness to the Master Craftsman at work.
Hills, valleys, mountains, and tunnels were all behind us as we arrived at my cousin’s home in West Virginia. The sun was setting as we toured the garden and the newly completed art studio and woodworking shop behind their house on the east end of Charleston. We soon gathered folding chairs and headed to the riverfront to take in the music along the shore facing the University of Charleston. The starry night accentuated the dome of the capitol as the five of us sat taking in the music, the cool evening breeze, and the stories of family and past experiences. As we collected our seats and returned them to the back of the van I was struck by the wonder of God’s blessing to be sharing such a lovely time with family. Although many years had passed since we had really spent any prolonged time together the ease and warmth of our conversations seemed to melt those years as if they were yesterday. With anticipation of more joyful communion and festival activities to come, we retired for the evening with thankful hearts for renewed connections. Prayers of gratitude soothed this boomer to a restful night’s sleep.
In the pre-dawn moments as all was quiet, my mind awakened to a plethora of unfinished business. The process of cleaning gutters was mentally engaged as I wandered off to some barn roof repairs and then to a recollection of my father sitting in the old corn crib, long demolished, proudly showing the corn he had so expertly shucked. In those twilight moments I realized I was drifting in and out of sleep. People for whom I prayed came to mind and I realized the list was long. As I thanked God for the privilege of another day I became fully aware of the blessings surrounding me. The presence of a loving God; the assurance of my eternal presence with Him; the opportunity to be living in a loving faith-filled home; and the opportunity to live out these blessings in humble gratitude gives rise to a thankful heart. The challenges of this day are unknown, but the truth of God’s grace is sufficient to face them all. “This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24.
The sun is bright and the temperature is rising. Flowers are growing and the fruit trees are blooming. Grass is getting greener and the chickens are feasting and producing eggs like never before. Springtime is claiming its right after a bone chilling winter. Forecasters predict yet another visit of winds and rain from the climes of the north, but for every practical purpose, winter has finally passed. With the plentiful propagation of new blooms and greening grasses comes pollen passed on in the air that finds its way to waiting nostrils. Sneezes and watering eyes give further evidence that spring is in full bloom in the Tar Heel State! Through eyes wet with drops of tears this thankful soul watches nature’s door open to the presence of spring and welcomes it joyfully.
Turning from one side to the other in bed suddenly became a monumental effort. The mind reasoned it as non thought provoking but the body resisted as if there were a mountain to climb. First steps of the morning were met with frank resistance as the feet refused to undertake the customary heel to toe movement forward. As frustration rises, so does the pill rolling tremor in the right hand rise in intensity. Visits from these reminders of human disease vulnerability descend occasionally without warning, but most often after an over-exertion of physical activity or a forgotten dose of dopamine replenishing medication. Each event prompts a response from one of the crossroads along the road of grief. That road leads ultimately to acceptance, but not to surrender. Acceptance that avenues of wellness are still available on this journey is not a sign of surrender to a place of defeat or resignation that there is nothing that one may do that would lead down a brighter road. Sometimes in the space called acceptance, a sudden reminder of the challenge being faced at that moment takes hold and tears of grief and frustration well up to overflow upon the cheeks that harbor gratitude. Knowing the presence and comfort of the Creator is in itself a place of peace that far surpasses any reasoned understanding. A thankful heart still beats to the rhythm of grace as mercy each day shows His loving presence.
By: Susan Millner Graham
Hi, I’m Susan, Tom’s cousin. Tom and I recently reconnected after many years of not hearing from each other. He was always my favorite cousin and I know I was special to him when we were growing up together.
I was not only surprised to find Tom on ancestry.com but saddened to discover, when I read his blog, that he has PD.
I don’t have PD but I live with it everyday. My husband has PD as a result of Agent Orange poisoning in the Vietnam war. It’s been difficult to watch a man who has always been so strong and dexterous begin to lose those abilities which have given him such joy and supported our family for so many years.
We all make adjustments throughout our lives, PD is one of those things that forces us to make adjustments in the everyday abilities we have taken for granted, as well as the roles we have played. The one who was most often taken care of must now be a caretaker and the stronger one must be willing to allow the caretaking process. At first this can be a very difficult thing, allowing others to help us when we have always prided ourselves on the ability to take care of our own daily requirements. I know that at first my husband hated to ask for help and when I did help him he felt sadness and shame. In time this gave way to reality and gratefulness to have the help of someone who loved him and wanted to be there for him in whatever capacity she could.
I was in shock and felt so inadequate to do all the things I knew that in time I would have to deal with. I felt a need to be stronger than ever before at the same time feeling at my weakest. I know that God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness so I have held to that promise and relied on divine strength to get through each day.
We are thankful for the things my husband still can do and we are finding new ways of doing familiar things by unfamiliar means. Some days seem almost normal, others filled with pain and movement disorder. Falls, surgeries for torn ligaments etc. Thank God for the large assortment of PD meds and for special shoes that help with the foot he drags.
My husband is a strong willed man who perseveres in the face of difficulties. I admire him, and everyone who is living life to the fullest in spite of the interference in their daily lives of PD.
I try now to look at the positives and not dwell on the negatives or fear the future. God’s promises are sure, he has never dropped me and he won’t now.
Love to and prayers for all of you, patients and caregivers dealing with PD.
Susan
It had been quite a process we had participated in that weekend at the Quaker Meeting House in suburban Philadelphia. People of all faiths had come together for what had been termed “The Essential Experience” by the crafter of a process that was to uncover those things which inhibit an individual from fulfilling one’s purpose. Although emotions were often shared by multiples of participants, the experiences underpinning those emotions were as varied as the individuals themselves. In the midst of one of the culminating exercises I became acutely aware of the need to “own” all that had happened in my life; the good, the bad, and the in between. Even that which may seem beyond my control had an element of my decision making election. There was a bit of irony in that the more I “owned” the decisions that I had made that placed me in the position to experience positive or negative outcomes, the more freedom from the impact of those outcomes I experienced. There was an element of victory that arose from the shaken off ashes of victim midst the recognition of participant that became apparent. As I reflect today, I recognize the value of “owning” decisions relating to the diagnosis termed Parkinson’s disease. I may or may not have taken actions that brought it on, but I have choices each day that render me victim or victor. I am grateful that I now choose to be victorious over the puddle of self pity in which it would be so easy to wallow. Today’s choices arise from the well of knowledge that they are the source of tomorrow’s experiences.