my birthday

Special days are hard they say. We got through John's birthday, Easter and now my birthday loomed. Alone for the first time. My children had a lovely celebration for me the day before. Food brought, stellar gifts and cards, a call from the ex-pat living in Australia. 

On the real day, a friend came by with such lovely gifts, a cake, and wisdom. She listened and buoyed my spirits. Then lunch with another angel who loves me and I her. Flowers delivered. Christ came to me in flesh, these people in my life.

And then something happened that made me glow each time I thought of it. The picture to the right is John on the bottom and his older brother Win next step above. John loved his brother and called him on birthdays, holidays and when storms hit Texas. 

That day John's nephew sent a text that Win was in the hospital with a possible stroke. His son Eric was with him and I called the number I was given and spoke to the son. They were waiting some seven hours to get an answer. Then I spoke to Win and we had a laugh and I told him I was praying for him.

This is the thing that is hard to explain. I have never been a person that likes to be on the phone. Dig around in my past to know why, I have no idea, but this day I had no choice about the call. I knew what John would have wanted and I was happy to do it. His goodness goes on. I glowed because I felt close to him. We are still a team.

This new Camino

 

  "A pilgrim does not demand. A pilgrim is grateful. A good pilgrim is she who listens to the stones talk. A roof to sleep under, a puddle to wash in, bread to eat, and a Camino to walk. Each pilgrim walks their own Camino. If you get blisters, bless them. Amen"

 I found this prayer the other day and it gave me hope that the way I am walking this new unwanted path is O.K.

I was astounded the first time I saw John kneel at a stone cross at the beginning of our 500 mile walk to Santiago in Spain. He did this at every cross we encountered and he told me later he prayed for health, safety and to keep going. His very public display impressed me. And the things he prayed for , we experienced. Pilgrims had to leave the path because of sickness or bleeding feet, We did not. A few people were killed crossing a highway, we were safe. And although we only walked 175 miles, we did reach Santiago and the Mass at the end, we kept going.

I found a small envelope in John's desk and inside was his Camino shell. I found mine and attached them to two walking sticks. I put them in the corner of the porch under a cross and each morning I do what my beloved did, kneel and pray for health, safety and to keep going. And for John.

For awhile I wondered what I was doing, did it make sense. Maybe doubting yourself is part of grief along with everything else .Then I found this in a book a dear friend sent: "In my hour of grief, rituals found me, They became signposts for me along the difficult path I was walking .Rituals helped me to realize that I was not alone, and I was not lost. I was simply in a strange new land." "A Hole in the World."

I have a roof, bread, I am not alone, and I am listening to the stones. I am grateful.

what a strange land

The place where I have been dwelling for these six months is hard to describe. The ups and downs, tears and love yes, love. I feel it surrounding me in memories and insights. A continuum of the life I had before but in a different form. 

The other day a memory came back of when John and I were newly dating. It was 1965 and that August he went off with his Dad to Saratoga to work at the racetrack. He never got a high school ring so I gave him mine to wear as a remembrance. It looked good on him with its gold and red stone.

One night when I was doing something in my room a thought came very suddenly out of the blue: he's lost your ring. Odd. The next night he called and sadly he told me that having lost so much weight in the heat , the ring slipped off and despite looking tirelessly it was gone. I couldn't believe it, how did I know? I was pretty excited thinking I had some great gift like ESP. My mother was not. She had paid for the ring.

It had been years since that incident came to my mind and when it did the other day I realized this: I have not demonstrated gifts like that since. It was always because John and I were connected that I knew. Where did that understanding come from all these years later?

 There were hardships, pot holes, misunderstandings and heart aches but the string was always tethered to our hearts and one pull and all was well. And now the person I love sees all things clearly with an eternal eye. He uses songs, dreams, and long ago happenings to help me see that we are still connected by that golden string that I first wound around my finger when I was 14.