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The Three Doors
Thursday, July 15th, 2010 | Blogging, Cancer Survivor, Uncategorized | 1 Comment
I am taking a journaling class coordianated by the Shephard Cancer Center here in Washington. It has been an AWESOME experience. We’re a small group that’s grown very close in a short time. Funny how cancer survivors can do that! We’ve had a bit of a hiatus from each other, with our last meeting in May and our next one this week. Our wonderful teacher, leader, and guide gave us a fascinating assignment. We are to draw three doors and write about them. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks and just now written down my thoughts on paper to share. Although I’m unable to show you the doors I’ve drawn, I hope you’ll get an image from reading about them. I was surprised by what I wrote, some of it comfortable, some of it dark and deep, and some of it enlightening. I hope it will do the same for you as you read it.
A prologue:
I find the assignment of drawing and writing about three doors an intriguing one. Often when I was younger I dreamt of being in a long hall full of doors. I would try to open the doors, but often was just left trapped in the hall, with its glossy wooden floors. On rare occasions in my dreams, I could open a door. It would always lead me inside the kitchen of an unknown, yet familiar house. I would go to the cabinet doors and know exactly where the glasses and dishes were kept. It felt eerie, yet comfortable to be there in my dreams.
The first door
The first door is obviously an old one. It’s massive structure acting as a fortress to protect the character and integrity of the old house that lies beyond its entry. It’s the door to the house where I now live. After years of admiring old houses and longing for one, I finally live in one that brings me serenity and complete comfort. I am simply in love with my old house—everything about it! I love the fact that it’s an Arts and Crafts bungalow that was a Sears kit house. I can just see the kit contents arriving on the railroad right beyond my front door. I can see the worker leaving his Prince Albert can of tobacco behind the cedar siding on the south side and boarding it up for us to find later. I feel as if I know the four generations of the Bowen family that built the house and lived in it for almost a three-quarters of a century. Often when I open the front door I can see Mr. Walter’s coat hanging on the coat knob to the right of the entry. I think about Ms. Hilda standing over the old wood fired stove in the kitchen making a batch of her son Bo’s favorite dish, creamed corn. I love the story of when Bo’s new bride tried to make the corn for Bo and Ms. Hilda would not have it! She made a competing batch and that was the last straw that convinced Bo’s wife that it was time to move out from under his mother’s roof. Sometimes things go missing in my kitchen, and are found in the most unlikely of places. I think it’s Ms Hilda just stirring up a little trouble for me in her own kitchen. I think about the old love letter from Mr. Walter to Ms. Hilda that we found at the bottom of the built in chest of drawers as we made room for a utility closet. How serendipitous that the wooden runners of its drawers were the missing boards from the kitchen floor that we needed. The wood grain and lengths matched exactly. As I sit in our front upstairs office that overlooks Havens Garden and the Pamlico River, I know that this was young Bo’s bedroom. I know that Ms. Hilda wanted to have loads of children, but could only have Bo. I know that the “secret” rooms that are unfinished in the four outside corners of the upstairs were planned to be the children’s bedrooms that never came to pass. I adore the tall baseboards and wide craftsman trim around the doors. I could never part with the wavy old glass in the windows despite their winter and summer inefficiency. I sleep well here despite the moans and groans that an old house sighs at night. When I come home and close the front door behind me, I feel totally and completely at peace.
The second door
The second door is actually a set of doors. They swing both ways with directional signs for in and out. They are brushed stainless steel with small portholes near the top of each one. They are cold, clean, and sterile, completely void of fingerprints as if no human interaction exists between the doors and the people that enter them. Perhaps this is due to the gloved hands that push the doors apart and make way for the gurney. It is here at the doors that we always pause and say our goodbyes to our family who will be waiting for us when we wake up from the surgical sleep that is about to be forced upon us. It is here that we be sure to say our “I love you’s” and squeeze each other’s hands. It is here that uncertainty hangs heavy in the air. Here all moments in the past are clearly defined and the here and now seems fuzzy. The future teeters on the outcome of the procedures that occur behind the doors. And yet somehow I always wake up knowing what has transpired. As if I’ve fooled them all along, and really been wide-awake watching and feeling everything.
The third door
The third door isn’t a door at all. It’s a portal of light that emits understanding and peace. All the mysteries of the universe are answered beyond this door. There is no pain, no suffering, no worry, no hate, no war, no cancer. All things pure and good glow from behind the portal. I’m not sure that I am worthy to enter. It beckons to me—I long to enter and yet I long to stay on this side.
Letting Go of Summer
Thursday, September 25th, 2008 | Uncategorized | 1 Comment
Letting Go of Summer
Each year, when it first begins to turn chilly and damp, I have the hardest time letting go of summer. I enjoy fall when it finally arrives in all its colorful glory—but during the interim, I am resistant.
While others are talking about how much they love the cool weather, I’m longing for the warm, even hot, sun and gentle breezes. I am unwilling to give up my comfortable sandals to the point of wearing socks with them with no fear of the fashion police. I miss going out into the garden, with an eye for red ripe tomatoes. I pulled up all of my tomato vines last weekend, after picking the last of summer’s bounty. Each time I use one of the last ripe ones in a sandwich or salad, I’m counting the few that are left and mourning the end of the season. As the days become shorter, I’m longing for the light I love. I miss the energy that I feel from the summer sun.
I used to even down right resent the winter—hated it! But, lately I’ve learned that it is God’s way of forcing us to slow down, recuperate from the hard work and play. I’ve learned to channel my energy in new ways—like learning to make homemade soups. Nothing is better on a cool Sunday afternoon than the aroma of soup simmering on the stove. I love researching the soup recipes and deciding on a new one to try every now and then, when I’m not relying on my old favorites.
I suppose that the change of seasons forces us to contemplate, even lament, what is behind us and anticipate what lies ahead. I’m doing that a lot right now. Thinking about my life, what I’ve accomplished, what I haven’t. Searching for a new purpose. Longing for good health. Praying for more time on this earth. Craving comfort and peace of mind. The scripture below gives me guidance and perspective. I hope it does the same for you. Until next time…De Ja Vu
To Every Thing There is a Season - Ecclesiastes 3. 1-8
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Oh What A Beautiful Morning
Thursday, September 18th, 2008 | Uncategorized | No Comments
Oh What A Beautiful Morning
Today was absolutely one of those most beautiful days—one that stays etched in your brain. The first breath of fall was in the morning air as we walked along the river’s edge. The water was as smooth as silk, and you could see the water ripple as the early insects searched for breakfast, and actually became breakfast, instead. I wanted to sing out the familiar chorus from Oklahoma….oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day!
When I walked into the house from my brisk journey home down Main Street, I just could not bear to stay inside. Even though there were baskets of clean clothes to fold, I poured my cup of coffee and settled on the front porch. Again, the beauty of the river just drew me there, and I left the comfort of the wicker chair and walked down to Havens Garden. The river in the morning has an indescribable smell—like the heaviness of the previous night slowly evaporating into the sunlight. As I peered into the water’s edge, I spied blue crabs feeding on the algae of the rocks. As my shadow crossed over them, they scattered like scared chickens, shuffling sideways in the sand.
I thought of the many times we’d look out and see people crabbing, and say we were going to do that sometime, but hadn’t. So, why not? I’m retired, right? Back to the house I go to gather all the necessary equipment– drop nets, string, chicken from the freezer, and dip nets. Down to the river’s edge I plant my chair and begin the greasy, smelling baiting of the nets and string. I watched as the crabs approached cautiously and “took the bait”. I also watched as they escaped the reach of my net. I was able to catch ONE crab—he was a keeper, a big one. But, he looked too lonely in that bucket of mine. So I released him to freedom.
But, my real joy was not in the catching of the crabs, but the total experience—soaking in the blue sky, feeling the slight breeze in my hair, and waving to the train engineer as he passed within a few feet of my perch. I felt so free to be able to curtail all tasks and just do something for the pure fun of doing it.
One phrase stayed in my mind all day…this is the day the Lord has made, rejoice and be glad in it. What a glorious day it was! Such simple joy!
Until later,
De Ja Vu
Hanna Pics
Monday, September 8th, 2008 | Uncategorized | 1 Comment
View from Our Front PorchJack's Creek Behind Our House at 5 Ft over Normal Stewart Parkway During Hanna
Tribute to Mimi
Thursday, September 4th, 2008 | Uncategorized | 1 Comment
Wishing the best today for our good friend Mimi who has an open house this evening for her new café on
Water Street in town. Mimi was our first friend here, and she will always be close to our hearts. We stayed at her B&B on many trips as we looked for a house to buy in this friendly beautiful place. Mimi is the kind of gracious host that placed champagne in our room when we celebrated a birthday, left a local cookbook when we closed on our house, and gave us shelter when we were hurricane virgins—our first hurricane here when we were evacuated from our new home. She is simply…the best at everything she does. We love her and wish her the best with her wonderful café that serves fresh, homemade faire. In addition, today is her birthday, and we wish her a long and healthy life.
Speaking of hurricanes, we have Hanna coming our way this weekend, and Ike to follow soon. More on this tomorrow as we prepare for the storm.
I’m off to help with the open house.
Until then,
De Ja Vu
First Day of the Rest of Your Life–and Mine
Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008 | Adult Children, Cancer Survivor, Life List, Retirement, Students, Teachers, Uncategorized | 6 Comments
Here I am, Day One of my retirement, first time blogger, and this nostalgic title from the seventies (or is it the eighties?) keeps popping into my head. Everything I research says a blog should have a focus—I’m struggling with that one.
Should I reach out to other cancer survivors like me? I know that I want to that—in a meaningful, funny, inspiring kind of way—words you don’t usually think of when you hear the C word. Could be a hard task, eh? How about all those teachers, like me, out there, who have retired and are going through an identity crisis?—I mean after all, I have been going to school since I was six years old. Then again—No Rules seems like a good topic. Yippee—out of school– no more rules! Hey, school and rules are common experiences for most of us. Even teachers who aren’t retired might be interested in some Old School wisdom. Maybe my focus should be on my Life List (a more positive title than the Bucket List)—but, does anybody else really care what I want to do with the rest of my life—who knows? I would sure like to know about the Life List of others—just to make sure I’m not leaving something out! Last Lessons could be a focus—a bit like the Last Lecture—after all, I’m teacher, too—oops—there’s that identity crisis—I was a teacher. I could focus on being the mom of an adult child and all the lessons I continue to learn from that role—-mostly that you always continue to worry about them, no matter how well they are doing.
So here, goes…some pearls of wisdom (make that plastic beads of insight) about the above.
C Club (count yourself lucky if you don’t know what that means)
On the first day of my retirement, today, I’m off to the doctor for a needle breast biopsy—not exactly my idea of my first day of fun! Not unless you consider table vises and needles as comfort companions. I had no idea it would be so darn complicated. Now I get to wait until Friday before I call to make an APPOINTMENT to find out my results. Seems like the new medical protocol is that you don’t give biopsy results over the phone. So much for the saying that No News is Good News!
No Rules
Since I had to go to the doctor at a specified time for a needle biopsy today—I don’t get to fully experience No Rules until tomorrow. I’m looking forward to No Alarm Clock in the morning –and gee I can wear whatever I want—NO Dress Code! Can’t wait to think daily of the rules I no longer must abide by.
Old School Wisdom
Try this experiment—teachers—I did it for years. Say Good Morning tomorrow to everyone you meet walking into your building and to your classroom. It’s a great thermometer for the day—what were fellow colleagues responses? I also counted the high school student responses—even a nod counts. More tomorrow on the Good Morning thermometer scale.
Life List #1
A friend once walked onto my porch and said to me—“If I had the view of the river that you have from this porch, I’d drink coffee and eat breakfast here everyday”. So number one my Life List—stop to smell the roses, especially if the roses grown in your own yard—enjoy what you have and take advantage of it—everyday. Today I sat in the swing, looked at the wide Pamlico, while I talked with my mom who lives five hours away. And I plan to sip a little wine from there this evening.
Last Lessons
Never give up on someone that you care about—even if they are not living up to their potential. Reach out and help them to reach their potential. It is easier for you to see their potential than it is for them to see it for themselves. It is your responsibility to help them hold up the mirror and look at themselves in a more positive light.
Mom Mode
Learn to laugh when they have you pegged. My son, on a visit this weekend, commented that I dress the way I decorate. It sounds ludicrous, but it’s true. My latest greatest favorite color in my house is teal. Even my front door is painted teal. Yes, I was wearing teal when he mentioned this. So, now I’m dressing to match my front door!&*~!
Until tomorrow,
De Ja Vu