Anything is Possible!

With Love, Hope, and Perseverance


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My Sisters on the Other Side

Yesterday was the birthday of my older sister, Linda. She’s been gone from this world now for almost ten years. Just a year less than Mom. I don’t remember her being in my life when I was very young, but there are pictures that tell a different story.

Infant joanne w Linda and mom

Linda is holding me as Mom plays with her hair.

Little JoAnne and Linda

I remember those wooden shoes hurt my feet. Maybe Linda is trying to comfort me with her hand on my knee.

She was ten years older than me, technically a step sister, but the father who adopted her when he married my mother was much more of a father than the first one.

Linda got married at 16. We saw her now and then, usually during a crisis, like when her son died, then the  few months we stayed with her and her husband and daughter when Dad was in Vietnam, and later when my younger sister died.

After my divorce, Linda and I talked on the phone more. Her love and acceptance reached all the way from California to the Atlantic coast. She was a welcome comfort during that dark time of my life. I kept saying my daughter and I were going to come visit her, but I didn’t realize how sick Linda was, and that sometimes we don’t have as much time as we think we have. Still, I’m grateful beyond words for her love and I know she is in a good place, probably singing hymns with Dad like they did when my parent’s visited her church.

A few days ago, I had all the loose the old family photos laid out on the table so I could add them to the family history album. That’s when I realized how much Linda cared for me when I was young.  I also studied the photos of my younger sister, Mary Kaye.  It’s one thing to die when you’re old – whatever old is… I’m not so sure anymore – But Mary Kaye was young. It was on her 16th birthday, in March of 1975, that Mary Kaye was killed by a drunk driver.

Mary Kaye was not interested in school. She smoked cigarettes and ran away from home once. But she also volunteered with handicapped children and helped with fundraisers for their group home.

Mary Kaye in candy spiper uniform with Lobo

Mary Kaye in her candy striper (volunteer) uniform with Lobo

Mary Kaye at bake sale and with Lobo

Left: MK is putting the hamster on Lobo’s head. Right: she’s wearing the smiley face T shirt and volunteering at the bake sale for the  Carobell children’s home.

We were very different in many ways. She was more of a free spirit. I was more serious about school and had bigger plans for saving the world.  We were just starting to get beyond our sibling rivalry when she died. I often wonder what she would be like today. I wish my kids had been able to know her. These were my thoughts when I started sobbing at the table full of old photos. My husband was there to comfort me and suggested I take a break from the photos since I’d been at it for a while. I picked up my journal and went to the couch to write my feelings. A few minutes later, I felt Mary Kaye’s presence. I have not felt her presence much like I have my parents who died more recently, but it was very much the same feeling of intense JOY. No clear words, like my father gives me, but clear and unmistakable JOY.

dandelion sun through trees (3)

This evening, I stopped writing this to go for a walk with David and Doodle. Breathing in the cool air, I reached out to Linda and felt the gentle joy of her spirit. Then lightening flashed in the distant clouds. Maybe that was Mary Kaye.

If you have sisters or brothers, parents or children, beloved family by blood or by choice, still living in this world, treasure the moments you have with them. And also know this, our loved ones who have passed on are alive in spirit and in love on the other side.


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Burial Mounds on the Natchez Trace

 

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A song unheard by my ears

Called to my being

and invited me closer.

My friends would wait

As I walked toward the mounds

through itchy grass

wondering what bugs I might disturb

To nibble my ankles

And thinking sneakers

would have been better than sandals.

But I had not known the song would call me.

 

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They told me it was okay

not to come all the way

Because I was close enough

To feel the song.

They met me halfway

And I felt the energy of their spirits

 like a soft breeze

that raised the hair on my arms

yet the air was still.

 I danced to the spirit song

unheard by my ears

And for a moment,

I was free of the world.

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∞ ∞ ∞

 

As I was about to leave the site of the Pharr Mounds, I spied a dragon fly:

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It did not fly away as we got close, and I wondered if it was injured

or just reminding me to be still.

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Then, as we headed to the car, I found a single butterfly wing in the parking lot.

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A gift to help me remember my freedom.

 

My visit to the Pharr Mounds showed me that I do not have to work so hard to receive gifts. As our bodies slow, our awareness grows, and our spirits are more easily lifted.

I only saw a small portion of the Natchez Trace.  Just enough to wet my appetite. Next time, I’ll bring sneakers.


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The Soldier

 

A Poem by Robert Frost

He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an arc.
They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect
The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;
They make us cringe for metal-point on stone.
But this we know, the obstacle that checked
And tripped the body, shot the spirit on
Further than target ever showed or shone.
arlington-national-cemetery-354849_960_720.jpg pixabay
I memorized and wrote an analysis of this poem in high school. I can still remember writing that the words need not apply only to wars of belligerence, and that the soldier could have been fighting social injustice or in defense of a worthy cause. In spite of my pacifist leanings, I am thankful for all those who gave the ultimate sacrifice of life in defense of freedom and justice. I hope they and their families know our deep gratitude. May their spirits rest in peace.
(The photo was taken at Arlington National Cemetery and is from Pixabay.)


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A Man of Hope, Heart, and Spirit

“Black lives matter, because all lives matter.” __Bishop Michael Curry

Presiding Bishop-elect Michael Curry of the Episcopal church gets things moving. He has the power to unite us, to help us find common ground.

I’ve had the privilege of hearing Bishop Curry speak on two occasions in his role as the Bishop of North Carolina. Sometimes, Episcopalians can lean a little toward the intellectual. Bishop Curry speaks from his heart of love with power to shake up the intellect and infuse us with the Holy Spirit. I’m excited and hopeful about his election as the Bishop for the Episcopal Church of the United States. I’m not at all surprised that he won by a landslide.

I ask that you watch this powerful five minute video of the newly elected Bishop Michael Curry speaking at the Bishop’s march “Claiming Common Ground Against Gun Violence” on June 28 at the convention in Salt Lake City:

 

“So walk together children. Walk and change this world.”___Bishop Michael Curry