parkinson’s
The fog was slowly lifting as the sun burned its way through the hazy distance. Sleep had been an occasional visitor to this stiff and sore possessor of Parkinson’s pathology after a long journey the day before. The bed had long since lost its reflexive embrace after years of hosting those on retreat. Rising to welcome the day in that early morning mist provided relief from the pressure points only that ancient mattress could illuminate. Reflecting on the beauty that was being unveiled of the Delaware Water Gap through the thinning fog of the distant vista and counting the blessings of renewed friendships in this “retreat” weekend, prayers of gratitude sprang forth in the morning of that new day. Soon the bustle of breakfast and chatter of friendly greetings consumed the space as we all prepared to welcome the day of sharing together in ways that would touch our hearts and inspire our thoughts as “keynote” speakers delivered the renderings of their efforts and heartfelt testaments. Our expectations were again exceeded as thoughtful, intelligent, and inspiring talks unfolded. The last speaker of the day who is just a few years younger than one of my sons shared a moving and scholarly summary of her work in preparing and publishing the biography of Joy Davidman Gresham, wife of C.S. Lewis. So very much has been published about Lewis, but little substantiated information about Joy has emerged over the years. As Abigail, our new acquaintance and gifted author shared her journey of discovery made in research for her book; we were again filled with gratitude for the efforts and exercised talent of those who use their gifts to inspire others. At the end of that day, stiffness aches and pains assumed their welcomed position beneath the presence of thankfulness that erupted in feelings of gratitude for having the opportunity to participate in that final evening of “retreat”.
As we rounded each curve on the winding mountain road the misty rain was turning into layers of semi dense fog. Construction traffic had delayed our arrival by almost an hour, but the spectacular views through the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia had brightened our way. Now, at the highest point along the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania, we greet friends from the past and say hello to new ones with whom we will be sharing most of the weekend in this creaky but cozy old retreat center. Stiff and sore from the hours of confinement, this host to Parkinson’s begins to limber up during rehearsals with the chorus for the evening’s special music. Gratitude soon takes its place in the forefront of thoughts as we catch up with old acquaintances over dinner and prepare our hearts for the evening’s worship and discussion. The first message we hear challenges one to remember that living out one’s faith renders witness to the presence of the One in whom our faith resides. As we concluded our time together that evening, the rhythm of the rain falling on the leaves of the massive trees just outside the window invited us to a place of rest and renewal that first evening back at Kirkridge Retreat Center.
The heat and humidity engulf the surroundings and layer the skin with a film of moisture just for being present. Gracie the Golden is out seeking a place of relief within the wide open field near the garden. It is becoming obvious that her tryst with Charlie, last month in Goldsboro, is going to render another litter of baby Goldens not unlike a year ago. As I reminisce on the porch swing I watch as she gallops through the grass around the orchard and wonder how many there will be this time. She has demonstrated her ability as a dutiful and dedicated mother who was only too glad when the last of the pups had found their own loving and forever home. Witnessing her frolics and relief, a gentle call of her name brings her gleefully panting back to the refuge of the air conditioned indoor space. The Parkinson’s invader has rendered this pooch lover physically slow and stiff at times, but always welcoming of the loving hug and lick seemingly omnipresent and waiting to be redeemed at a beckoned call. Just another three weeks and new lives will emerge from this loving gift that is Golden and begin their journey in the family to which much joy will be given and shared. In the meantime, we cherish each moment that is now with a grateful heart and thankful arms that embrace this magnificent creature we call Gracie
Sun lit skies were tenuous as strands of chilled air streamed by in the heat of the afternoon. A downpour had threatened the park gathering just an hour before but more than one hundred hopeful and eager members and attendees came together to get to know one another and share a meal. There was one distant cousin among the gathering whom I had never met before. His father and I had been friends as children and teens, but lost contact with one another in the busy time of high school in different locations. It was good to learn from his son that all was well with his dad as we engaged that initial cursory discussion. The stiff and painful companion dubbed Parkinson’s had almost convinced me that greater gain would be found by staying home than navigating the narrow paths of the park or the crowded space of the park’s pavilion. Fortunately, resistance to the avoidance temptation won out and I experienced the joy of interacting with and getting to know just a little better both old and new acquaintances. Pain and stiffness were relegated to positions among the sidelines and gratitude and thankfulness took center stage as we engaged the wonder of fellowship in what is growing to be a broader community. Traveling with the companions of gratitude and thankfulness is proving to be far superior to the sedentary confines of pain and stiffness. The discovery of and sharing with others and their lives and histories enriches the soul like soil readied for planting. May the crop be bountiful!
Mocking birds exercise the ranting from which they get their name while crows caw seemingly just because they can. A cool presence engulfs this sleepy possessor of Parkinson’s as he waits for Gracie the Golden to demonstrate her morning constitutional. The lightening, rain and wind from the evening before have given way to a calm but overcast morning that holds promise for the chores ahead for today. At the center of the plan is today’s delivery of what has been dubbed the “backpacks” to one of the city’s elementary schools. The project, under the direction of the city’s food pantry known as God’s Store House, delivers a hefty bag of sundry staples for more than two hundred children at the school who might otherwise experience hunger over the weekend. We deliver only a small portion of those that are put together by eager and generous hands from ages six to near ninety working together to sort, assemble, and place lovingly in bags and boxes that are handy for the journey from the First Baptist Church to the school. The kids at the school who participate in the program will receive their “backpack” of staples that will be delivered and sorted early this afternoon. Each backpack contains more than the total of the items therein; they contain the touch of loving and eager hands to help with something for the benefit of others! They contain thoughts of gratitude and thankfulness that funds have been supplied to purchase products that meet a need. They contain the heartfelt desire to help others that supersedes the sometimes otherwise limiting physical impediments that hold some back. Although each backpack may look the same, they are each as different as the hands and hearts that take them and the hands and hearts that have made and placed them. Love is the act that creates, toils, tarries, and positions; gratitude and sustained good health is the intended result. Each is as important as the other as we take this life journey together!
Small flocks of yellow finches swarm the fields bearing yellow flowers in the cool spring morning. Passing storms swept in more humid, but cooler overcast skies. The day looks moist in these early hours, but we never know what the day may bring. Moving household goods across the street can be taxing, but moving them with two infants more than seven hundred miles is a daunting task. My son’s household belongings are now securely crammed into his family’s new abode, but all is far from settled. The evening of their arrival afforded a much needed reprieve from the bustle and tedious events and distractions of the packing and journey that was preparation for new adventures in a new part of the country for them. Gratitude has been the pillow upon which we have all laid our heads the last few days and thankful hearts beat to the rhythm that has been wrought as a new chapter in their lives unfolds. Patience, perseverance, and persistence are proving to be valued assets as they place their faith in the One who provides. Tremors, stiffness, aches and pains act as impediments to this possessor of Parkinson’s who nevertheless heaps a healthy helping of gratitude beside the gate of new beginnings.
Nestled in the quiet of the morning and the stillness of the moment, thoughts of times past seem to have landed midst the field of today’s agenda. Currently relieved of the physical restraints brought on by hosting the residence crasher called Parkinson’s, reflections of times past flood the cauldron of memories. A place, an event, children, distant family, and friends each prompt thoughts of experiences past. Feelings of peace, joy, love, enjoyment and contentment fill the space between now and then so fondly called memory. It is the associated emotion or feeling that seems to give the memory its boost. An event without an associated meaning would be as lost as light in a black hole or music not heard in a sound proof room. As thoughts of gratitude for the opportunities of memories emerge, a foundation of thankfulness underpins the hope upon which we stand as we peer into the events of today and what is to come. With gratitude as a companion and thankfulness as our foundation, we leap into the adventures of today from which the memories of tomorrow will be crafted. May your companion be nurtured and your walkway be solid!
In the old Tarzan films you see the poorly verbalized but nevertheless wise hero thrust himself from one steady position to the promise of another by means of a non-tethered but sturdy vine. Conveniently, the vine seems waiting to become the host for the journey to a new destination either away from the dangers that seem to invade the old or toward one that surely guarantees yet another intriguing adventure. The reasonable props for the execution of the dramatic move must be a hefty element of trust in the reasonable safety and security of the vine along the journey and faith that the destination location will sustain the weight of the landing. Leaving the old and arriving at the precipice of the new has within it elements of excitement, fear, revelation, and grief. As the host to (unwilling or not) the dwelling of various Parkinson’s symptoms, this not so agile (hero?) one grasps the vine with all his strength for the journey to a new adventure. The location is still the forest, but the vista is changing as the light of an adjusted pathway is illuminated. Gratitude remains the cover that blankets the footing from the old to the new and a thankful heart beats to the call of discovery.
Even in the bright sun of the mid-morning, the air embraces a chill that defies the traditional definition that is spring. Someone failed to notify the passing arctic breeze that the calendar has now passed the date denoting the arrival of the spring season. Oddly, before the date turned on the calendar we now keep other weather patterns were confounding winter with the heat of summer. As if rigidity, tremor, stiffness and a few other annoyances were not enough for this unwilling Parkinson’s host, now the tides of uneven temperatures seem to engulf the otherwise routine passing of the seasons. As we listened carefully yesterday to the joy filled life celebration of one who at 92 had passed on from what we know as this life, we were struck by the frequent references to humor, using one’s gifts, and giving unceremoniously to others. That message in celebration extended into today as I pause in reflections of gratitude and joy at the abundance that surrounds us, even in the midst of change. Almost in an instant the propensity toward a mental cloud opens rather to the breaking of a new dawn filled with the light and warmth that is found at the rise of thankfulness. Again, the message of gratitude and thankfulness rains down warmth that enriches the soil that provides sustenance and reinforces the understanding that it is what dwells within, rather than what resides without that renders depth and meaning to this life.
Chill permeates the space between the walls in the old farm house. Visions of spring flirt with moments of warmth interspersed with the cool expanse of an overcast day. As sunlight reigns longer each day, opportunities for nature’s bounty spring forth and blossom to bear its fruit and feed the birds and bees that rely so heavily upon it. Each morning brings with it seemingly endless challenges accompanied by equally abundant opportunities. The host to Parkinson’s, like the bearer of other chronic and persistent invaders knows too well the challenges of movement, agility, and flexibility that are daily reminders that what we perceive as wellness is so often a gift that is taken for granted. Beside the seemingly rough waters of challenge lies the shore of opportunity upon which possibilities emerge and flourish. Like the trees that thrive along the banks of the stream, opportunities for growth and change draw sustenance from the roots penetrating into the waters of challenge. The challenge of movement presents the opportunity to test the limits and rewards of exercise. The challenge of loss presents the opportunity to appreciate and negotiate a new or different pathway along which new and different outcomes may be experienced. Not every challenge is so easily viewed as an opportunity, but every opportunity when viewed through the prism of gratitude renders a new perspective from which accomplishments may be observed. The canvas comes alive as the artist uses the brush of thankfulness to create new and beautiful works from the tones of challenge and opportunity in the light of gratitude!