parkinson’s
Fields glisten with frost as the sun bursts brightly over the eastern horizon. Today’s prediction is one of warmth and sunshine as spring teases her way forward. In the quiet stillness of the moment, reflections of past experiences mesh with the thoughts of today’s agenda and create the context in which events may unfold. That uninvited resident named Parkinson’s is slowly becoming an acknowledged inhabitant who shall never define me, but must somehow be accommodated as a firm presence deep in the center of my brain. Other temporary maladies which have come to visit are distractions of late and have served as reminders that distractions need not serve as detractors to one’s tasks in this journey called life. Conscious dreams that form the superstructure of ambition begin to take form in the presence of gratitude for what has already begun to be realized. An abundance of thankfulness flows like a river that nourishes the desire to encourage, inspire, and thrive as a witness in a life gratefully lived. Each time an inconvenient distraction passes near, a pause to reflect and draw from that robust river of thankfulness serves as nourishment that propels this journey forward. Each day provides yet another opportunity to thrive in the midst of the garden that blooms rich from the waters of gratitude surrounded by the soil of thankfulness.
The light through the blinds was evidence that a cloudless night was being illuminated by a multitude of stars. Though sound asleep just a few minutes prior, this unwilling possessor of Parkinson’s was now profusely pondering all things that had not been pondered sufficiently during daylight hours. Tossing and turning to gain that singular cozy position under the covers on this chilly night did little to quell the wandering and now wide awake mind from its search for solutions to created problems not worthy of “normal” day time. Frustrated that neither prayers nor intentional thought aversion were leading back to longed for slumber, the now wide awake obsessed one made the choice to rise and begin the day. Still two hours shy of sunrise, routine morning consumption of daily medications was commenced. With fire stoked in the old wood stove, and coffee ready for the brewing, even Gracie the Golden was not to be lured from her evening reprieve as she snuggled feet to chin on her generously cushioned bed. Warmly positioned in the den recliner and vigorously absorbing the morning reading, I paused to reflect on the last few days. In the midst of tasks, errands, appointments and moments of rest I had begun to understand that living is less like an event and more like a process. For some, that may not be a revelation, but for this participant, it was a series of thoughts worthy of giving thanks for their occurrence. Over the years there have been innumerable events that I would have previously deemed noteworthy. Reflecting now, I find greater value in understanding these things as a process of experiencing life that offered opportunities for learning and growing as opposed to events to “chalk” up along the way. Having deemed these thoughts worthy of further exploration, this now sleepy soul surrenders to the notion of a nap as being nutritious for this growing processor. Stay tuned!
Delighted by the brightness of the sun drenched snow we celebrate the end of the storm that brought the now deep white rendering. We found beauty in the falling white powder and sense of relief when the blowing drifts no longer piled high against the house. Thankful that the furnace functions and the old wood stove serves its purpose to exude heat from the burning goods inside, we find a place of contentment with books and periods of expressions of our gratitude. Knowing challenges of shoveling and making pathways lie ahead, we all the more express our thankfulness for sunshine to brighten the way. Knowing that the beauty of snow may soon easily turn to challenging sheets of ice, we make our plans to tackle the chores that soon demand our presence. Stiffness aches, and a few creaks and cracks of this Parkinson’s possessing participant will have their say, but nonetheless, we determine, shall not deter! Shored with the boots of gratitude and the cloak of thankfulness, mind, body, and snow will be justly moved to make way for tomorrow’s tasks. And this praising participant is all the more thankful for today’s opportunity to face the challenge!
The old wood stove clanks as the newly inserted wood begins to crackle as flames consume it. Coals remaining from the well stoked stove the evening before serve as a thrifty ignition for the wood generously added this morning. The den becomes cozy and warm from the heat off the cast iron container connected to the chimney. A warm place of quiet and solitude is at our command as we stretch out the legs upon the recliner. On the coldest morning so far this year, the blessing of warmth and comfort inside serves as a stark contrast to the frigid realm outdoors. Bright morning sun peeks its way through the trees on the hillside to the east and conveys an illusion of warmth. Quiet now from the hectic bustle of the last few weeks of travel and chores, this host to Parkinson’s allows himself the pleasure of a welcomed change as he reflects upon the challenges, the victories, and the joys of the last full month. A warm crackle from the old wood stove sparks the heart with thoughts of gratitude for time with family, some tasks accomplished, and the blessing of a safe harbor to moor this sometimes wandering vessel. A thankful heart serves as an anchor to secure this wanderer in the embrace of the sea that gives life.
Armed with an initial list of chores to complete, this unwilling host to Parkinson’s set out to accomplish what seemed to be the impossible. A house purchased ten years ago, intended to be an income investment, has grown to be a financial burden and needs to be prepared for market. Scrubbing, painting, repairing, and replacing fixtures, walls, some ceilings and small appliances is challenging even to the fully functioning. With the help of a friend, headway has been made and what was at one point seemingly impossible has moved to the realm of hopeful. Still challenged by pain and physical resistance, we tackle what we can and allow time for relief before assuming the tackle position again. A hearty celebration of my granddaughter’s first birthday with many family members present filled the heart of this servant of the otherwise mundane tasks that take every ounce of physically resistant energy. Grateful for what has been accomplished and hopeful for what is yet to come, we take each and every moment as it arrives. With time nipping at our heels, we keep our sights focused on thankfulness.
The clouds cast a shadow over the landscape as a light but steady drizzle seemed to permeate the air. The day’s agenda was barren of dedicated community chores or tasks. Free from some pain this reluctant Parkinson’s participant had been experiencing earlier in the week, a leisurely morning was engaged catching up on some reading and reflecting. In the still quiet of the moment a glance at a wall of pictures ignited an almost combustible explosion of memories. Cherished moments of roasting hot dogs with my older sons near the farm pond in North Carolina; Christmas dinner with Mom, my sister and all the kids in our Philadelphia row house; a birthday celebration nineteen years ago in rural Pennsylvania, and our children on the beach near our Connecticut home were images that coalesced in an erupting fountain of thankfulness. The richness of blessings we have experienced came rushing to my mind like a freight train loaded with grains of memories. As I paused in these moments of reflection I recalled that never once did the presence of worry, fear, or doubt regarding our lives serve to advance or propel us toward the blessing of family in which we lived. We lived, loved and worked toward a foundation of wholeness in which each of our lives could thrive and mature. Perfection was never achieved, nor was it sought. However, today’s reflection displays characters perfectly suited for their roles even as the stage is lighted for the next experience.
Bright sunshine blazed through the nearly barren trees as the sun rose on this frosty morning. Lying randomly beneath the huge tree in the front yard are pecans ready to be collected, dried, and stored. The task began several days ago as we made our path from the outside perimeter to the inner core near the tree. Several bags were filled before we made a single round, so many more remain for today’s harvest. One of the several nearby squirrels has also found her way to the abundant harvest of delicious nuts. The quite ample supply gives assurance there are more than enough to share. The simple act of harvest, though challenging to this stiff Parkinson’s affected back, is a welcomed retreat from the seemingly unavoidable news reports of terror, and political and religious strife. Grasping each exposed pecan nut from its protective outer shell in which it matured affords an opportunity to express thanks for this fine harvest that will be shared over the coming season. An escape from the complex world around us into the seemingly simple world of collecting the gift of harvest brings with it great joy through which gratitude gains its opportunity for expression. The germination and development under various climate conditions of this gift of nature is far from simple, but its rendering enables for us a simple act of harvest. May you find within the complexity of your day that special chance to give thanks for the harvest before you, in whatever form it may take!
The faux fireplace spouts infrared heat from its front panel as a heavy mist of rain appears as fog over the early morning landscape. Gracie, the Golden lies peacefully under the edge of the recliner in which this Parkinson’s participant sits and reflects on the full pace of the last few days. Two runs for food and supplies for a family reunion and participation in a church/community program that delivers food for the weekend to children in need filled the Friday before the event anticipated for months. We arrived at the “fellowship hall” of the church and began the process of setting up the computer and projector as well as the “self serve” line of food for the crowd expected any moment. Delight filled our hearts as distant relatives of my paternal grandmother began to arrive. For some, it had been years since I had seen them. For others, it was an opportunity to meet family of which I was only faintly aware. Gratitude welled up in my heart as I found opportunities to share time and hear memories from two beautiful “matriarchs” who were blessed with years of 90 and beyond and hearts filled with delight to be sharing then with family. We shared pictures in a slide show created from old photographs from the late 1930s through the early 1950s. Genealogical charts and home picture albums were perused after sharing our meal and the afternoon was packed with stories of days gone by. As we packed away the remaining food for use in the next day’s community fellowship program, we were filled with gratitude and love for the connection to family and the collection of memories that will sustain us until the next time together. The richness of lives can never be encapsulated into a few moments, but a few moments sharing their wealth of experience are among the riches that contribute to the legacy of love!
The tarnished reddish brown box seemed to burst at the seams as my cousin Joyce handed it to me to place on the table. She had already perused the old photographs and news clippings just a few days before. These remnants from our cousin Joan’s collection promised to be pieces of cherished history from both the Millner and Gourley families. Although afternoons are not the brightest time for this reluctant participant in Parkinson’s stiffness and rigidity, it all seemed to be less bothersome as we both reveled at the sights before us. Many never before seen (by us) photographs were giving us a glimpse of a place and time one hundred years ago. Her dad was the youngest of the clan of ten children and my dad was the oldest. Then, there were all those kids in between who stood with bright smiles behind their mother and father and grandfather Millner. Deeper in the pile through which we searched was a portrait of our great grandfather, taken sometime near the turn of the last century. With hearts filled with gratitude for this opportunity to visually touch base with a part of our family history, we made our plans to scan all of the most significant photos into a file to electronically share with all the cousins that may want to have a remnant of points in time of generations past. Thankfulness provides such wonderful substance to memories past and those being made.
Cool crisp air embraced the bright and sunny morning that this reluctant participant with Parkinson’s had designated as house cleaning day. Vinyl siding now encases the old farm house and sparkles a bright white most of the year. Summer warmth and humidity in the presence of reduced direct sunlight on the north side serve as a rich foundation for the growth of mold and mildew. Armed with a bucket of water and bleach along with a long handled brush and water hose, this determined cleaning warrior commenced the battle of the mold. Tackling one section at a time starting from the top, the bleach soaked brush was guided up and down, then side to side. A rinse with the hose quickly uncovered spots that needed another application from the cleaning warrior to render the section a sparkling white. Section by section, strip by strip, the process was repeated again and again. Aching joints and stiffened muscles seemed to all coalesce at the eighty percent complete point for that side of the house. The real battle then began. It was no longer the battle of me versus the mold, it was the battle between the “I can’t do this anymore” me and the “just one more section” me. The “just one more section” warrior won out to complete what had been set as the goal for the cleaning. As each stroke in the “me” battle was delivered with determination a grateful heart noticed what appeared to be a breakthrough in the joint pain and stiffness. Both pests were still present, but their metaphorical barking was not as loud. Thankfulness became the engine that lifted each stroke as the last intended section was complete. The house cleaning set out for completion had been accomplished and a grateful heart embraced this warrior in a restful reprieve.