Good Days Ahead!

Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass...
It's about learning how to dance in the rain.
- Vivian Greene

Peace to All Who Enter Here

Our prime purpose in this life is to help others.
And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them.
- Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama

I once had the privilege of hearing the Dalai Lama speak, and what struck me about him most of all was his humility. Can you imagine him sending a mean tweet or an angry Facebook message? Would he lean on his horn in a traffic jam or flip somebody off in a parking lot? Is it his kindness that brings him peace?

In this line of work, we receive many comments on what we do, what we say and how we look. Many of them are kind and heartwarming and really lift the spirits. Others...not so much. My friend Renita reminded me today that hurt people are the ones who hurt other people. So, to all of you who are having a really bad day, I am sending positive vibes and a virtual hug. Peace.

Week Three of the Great Foot Fix

Last night I went to the company Christmas party. Normally one stands around at these things, glass in hand, mingling, but I'm scooter-bound and that made me a roadblock in a narrow room, so I chose to sit, with my leg elevated on the seat of the scooter. Which also made me a roadblock in a narrow room. People are just not meant to be shaped like a T-square.

Back home, I took a painkiller and got on the computer. I hadn't realized before last night how goofy those things make me. A friend shared with me a YouTube clip of a blooper that featured Kevin Stanfield and me (see it here if it interests you, but be aware that it's about three minutes in and you may have to pass by some stuff that's mildly objectionable first  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=604D5GvnnT4) and it struck me as so funny that I decided to share it with a few family members. What I did instead, was message it to a whole bunch of people. I am not even sure how I did it. I immediately got a message back from a friend who said she thought my Facebook page had been hacked.  I think I'm ready to graduate to Tylenol, if only to save my friends from  the fuzzy texts.

But that brings me to my point. You simply don't realize how challenging life is for people who are mobility impaired until it happens to you. Here is a list of things I never knew:

1. If I CAN drop a thing on the floor, I will.
2. If, after I drop it, it CAN roll under furniture, into tiny corners or behind the toilet, it will.
3. Putting your pants on while standing on just one leg is not possible. Scooting into them while seated on the bed is undignified.
4. Vehicles on wheels roll, and sometimes role out from under you.
5. If I set my phone down and roll away from it, it will ALWAYS ring. Three rings are not enough time to get to it. And if I'm in a hurry to answer it before it goes to voicemail, the phone will not recognize my thumbprint, nor will I remember my unlocking code.
6. I am not much of a dancer, but I've developed a beautiful one-legged pirouette.
7. And perhaps the most surprising of all, I find I am not good at sitting still and reading a book for more than, say, ten minutes. So those days when I dream of a vacation where I do nothing but sit on a beach with a novel? Probably not the vacation for me.

I've also learned that I have wonderful friends and family who are always there to step up and help, and to make me smile and feel loved. That is perhaps the most valuable lesson of all.

Heavy Lifting and Marriage

Last night I spent a couple of hours by myself for the first time since my foot surgery a little more than a week ago while Cliff went to watch a hockey game. I figured I had things under control. I sat for an hour watching Netflix, but then realized it was past supper time and I was hungry. So I rolled myself into the kitchen to rustle something up.

My house is historic and has many distinctive and charming features -- another way to read that is "old, with uneven floor heights, lots of stairs, more doorways than necessary and tight spaces." It doesn't have that "open concept" one hears so much about these days. It's something of a challenge and in all of the back and forth I tend to run over the toes on my good foot. I did that a couple of times.

Then I found some leftover chili in the fridge, but had trouble getting a bowl down from the cupboard because I couldn't maneuver the scooter close enough to reach it easily, and the cupboard door swings the wrong way. But I worked that out. I put my chili on the stove to open the microwave, and the top panel on the microwave fell off (why it happened at that moment I have no idea -- probably a test), knocking my bowl of chili onto the floor, splattering my legs, my scooter, the cupboards, etc. I wheeled away from that mess and reached for the paper towels and somehow managed to also knock them onto the floor. I could reach down far enough to retrieve the bowl, the paper towels and the spoon, but I couldn't quite reach the spilled food. That wasn't a big problem because while my back was turned the dogs swooped in and before I could stop them, did a pretty good job of mopping things up. I suspect I will pay for that later.

But you know who will really pay? Cliff, because he's going to have a hard time leaving my side again for the next month. "For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health," and in foot surgery.

Lord, it's Hard to Be Humble

"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience," Colossians 3:12

The word "humility" is what's standing out to me today. See that foot all wrapped up in that boot? I had surgery on Friday and since then I've been dependent on others around me to do just about everything for me. There's a certain amount of humility required for that, especially for Type A's like me. 

When I was growing up in the 70s, singer Mac Davis released a song that we loved to sing in my family. 

You get the idea.
Now let's look at the rest of that verse from Colossians. "Compassion" also jumps out, because those surrounding me have been incredibly compassionate, from the doctor to the nurses to my family and friends. I'm blessed. And finally, there's "patience." God help me with that one. Accepting the kindess of others, being patient with life's challenges and not freaking out when I pass a mirror (day three without a shower), forces me to be humble. And I'm doing the best that I can. 

Prayers for Harriet

     The first time I met my mother-in-law I passed out in a snowbank, not once, but three times. It was January in 1981. Cliff brought me home from Williston to Fargo to meet his parents. We traveled on a train in the dead of winter. I think the temperature was 20 below zero, perhaps colder. After a long day I fell asleep while watching TV and I remember waking up feeling hot and disoriented. I decided the thing to do was to go outside, which I did. The next thing I knew, Cliff was lifting me up off the ground. I had snow on my face and in my hair. He had run outside when he saw me go out the door and he was standing barefoot in the snow, hopping on one foot and then the other.
     "What happened?" I wanted to know. He wasn't sure. Truthfully, he hadn't known me very long at that point. But he asked me if I was alright and I said yes, so he let go and back down into the snowbank I went. Again, he picked me up, again asked me if I was alright and again I said yes, so he dashed back inside to grab his boots. When he returned moments later I was once again face down in the snowbank.
     I would guess that the problem was nervousness combined with extreme temperature changes, from being too warm to suddenly being too cold. Whatever caused me to faint, I think I made his mother wary. She wasn't sure if I was on drugs, or was a closet alcoholic or what. She was always kind, but for months I sensed a bit of nervousness where I was concerned.
     I wanted her to like me, so I set out on a mission to woo her, beginning with her main joy and hobby. I asked her to teach me to knit. That's really all it took. We sat side by side for hours on end, working on simple projects at first, before graduating to the more complicated. From there we graduated to scrapbooking and finally to quilting. I had found the doorway into her heart, and what a big heart she has.
     Tonight that heart is struggling. Harriet is in the hospital fighting off congestive heart failure and possibly pneumonia. Please pray for her.

A Shared Experience -- Comments on the Thirst Conference 2016

Several days have passed now since I attended the Thirst Conference in Bismarck. I wanted to attend to sell books, let's be honest, but I got much more out of it than I expected. I did wear my "vendor" name tag, but I also got a chance to hear great speakers and to visit with like-minded people of faith. I soaked up the marvelously positive attitude, not only of attendees, but also of the exhibitors who surrounded me.

There was Br. Jacob, a Benedictine monk from the Richardton Abbey, who always (and I mean always) had an impish grin on his face. We discussed the reasons why silence and perhaps a weekend at the Abbey might do me good.

There was Sr. Mary, who was a family doctor on a recruiting mission for her order, decked out in a traditional floor-length habit that allowed her to sweep by with a particular grace, almost as if she were floating. That was like a page out of my childhood memory book, when my schoolmates and I would speculate on what they were really wearing under those robes.

And Fr. Benny, who described what it's like to have somebody hold a gun to his head and yet experience the feeling of peace that comes from knowing God was caring for him, regardless of what happened. "I can only call it bliss," he told me. Not that he wanted to die, just that he didn't fear it, and what a comfort that was.

There were the dozens of people who shared their family stories with me as I sat at my table signing books. I guess if you write a book called Gift of Death it's not surprising that people want to share those final moments they've had with loved ones. Some came with tears in their eyes, looking for comfort. Some were looking to comfort others. But I believe I'm the one who received the greatest gift -- the love that flowed all weekend long. I really felt there were no strangers there and I can't wait for the next Thirst Conference to come around.

Full Tank of Gas and Living in a Free Country

     When somebody asks my husband Cliff how he is, he typically says, "I've got a full tank of gas and I'm living in a free country," and in a way, that says it all. I think most Americans have some anxiety over this election, the negativity of it and the feeling that things are spiraling out of control. So I thought it might be time to refocus our attention, even if it's just for a moment, on what's so great about our nation and our people. I did my own survey of people around me, and here are some of their comments to the question, "What's the best thing about living in America?"

Mary Jo Steidler: Feeling free.

Curt Olson: That I can get up in the morning and do a job that I love, and not be forced to do something else.

Kevin Stanfield: The fact that we can worship whatever god we choose.

Kelly Feigitsch: The music. When I went to Ireland, London and Paris they played American music. That and the food.

Kristin Opheim (born in Norway): Opportunity. Think about it. We are so unexcited about all the resources we have around us. It's like a giant playground. Everybody else in the world gets excited about what we have here, but if you're born here you don't appreciate it.

Jordan Ziegler: Women's freedom, because in a lot of Third World countries that doesn't happen.

Rachel Chumley: Our freedom of speech.

Mandy Schaff: The ability to choose. Where we live, what we eat, who we vote for.

Darrell Olsen: That with hard work, determination and a plan, there's opportunity for all of us. We're not told in advance what we have to be.

J.R. Havens: We invented the hamburger....and the Second Amendment.

Renita Brannan: The freedom to be Christian, to be an entrepreneur, freedom of speech. God bless America!

Henry Blakes: Our access to education, because it gives you the chance to get wherever you want to go.

Alan Miller: Not having to worry about anything. You feel safe, secure and you can do whatever you want to do.

And me: I love life in this country, and while we are facing some challenges, I believe we are blessed to have been born here and privileged to live here.

Where I'm Interviewed on KNDR-FM Radio

Here's my interview on KNDR radio. My thanks to Brad Bales.
http://picosong.com/aKWa/

Dream Angels

I ran across something interesting the other day while reading about St. Augustine. He was a fascinating guy. In this particular account he talked about an angel who came to a friend in a dream. In the dream the angel convinced the man of the existence of life after death by discussing the various ways in which we see -- with our eyes, with our minds and in our dreams. The angel used this information to convince the man of the existence of life after death. It made perfect sense to me. Here's an excerpt:

As while you are asleep and lying on your bed these eyes of your body are now unemployed and doing nothing, and yet you have eyes with which you behold me, and enjoy this vision, so, after your death, while your bodily eyes shall be wholly inactive, there shall be in you a life by which you shall still live, and a faculty of perception by which you shall still perceive. Beware, therefore, after this of harbouring doubts as to whether the life of man shall continue after death. This believer says that by this means all doubts as to this matter were removed from him.--St. Augustine

Great point!

In Search of the Burning Bush

 

 

"For those who believe, no proof is necessary. For those who don't believe, no proof is possible." -- Stuart Chase 

 

 

Why do some people hear God, or see visions, or receive revelations and others don't? I have a friend who longs for such an experience. "I always hear, 'I've had this dream,' or 'God spoke to me,'" he says, "so I wonder what's wrong with me? I've prayed for that, too, but it hasn't happened." He thinks there is a God, but he wants a burning bush in order to be sure. "I have faith that there's something bigger than me that cares about what's going on," he adds, "but because I have no direct experience I'm not totally sure."

 

He, like most of us, is terrified at the thought of non-existence, so he wishes for assurance beyond a doubt. I don't know if there is such a thing.

  

Saint Teresa of Kolkata received a revelation from God, on a train of all places, and that vision or inner voice was profound enough and overwhelming enough to convince her to devote her life entirely to the destitute and forgotten. And yet, from her own writings we know that she spent most of the rest of her life searching to find that experience again. She got close only one more time, and after that, had to live on faith that the Jesus who revealed Himself to her on the train was still there and still loved her with a totality that only God can manage.

 

How many of us get even one "burning bush" experience? Most of us are asked to believe on faith. I like to think of life itself as a miracle. Leaves are miracles. A molecule of water is certainly a miracle. The human eye is a marvel of engineering, architecture and beauty. All are irrefutable evidence of intelligent design.

 

But when you get right down to it, how many miracles are enough? A sermon I heard recently drove this point home. The Apostles actually watched Jesus perform one miracle after another, and yet, when He was taken away by Roman soldiers, they all ran away in fear. They also had their doubts. But in their saner moments, they chose to dedicate their lives to their belief.

Faith itself is a gift from God, but I believe he'll bestow that gift if we ask him to. In the meantime, if you have those odd moments of doubt, don't be too hard on yourself. You, too, are human.

Riding the Wave!

Visiting with a friend the other day, we started talking about things we're afraid of. I used to be scared of everything. I lived in California but never went into the ocean, let alone learn to surf, because I was afraid of what might be in the water. I tried to learn to snow ski but couldn't force myself to just point in a downhill direction and go. Trampolines? Forget it. Tall buildings? Count me out. I didn't get my driver's license until I was 18 because I was afraid of the instructor. I made it all the way through college and graduate school without ever taking an entrance exam, (no,the schools weren't very happy when the realized it) for fear I wouldn't do well on the math portion of the test.

And then there were the other, perhaps deeper fears. When I was in high school, the only thing I wanted was to be popular. I wouldn't be myself because I feared people wouldn't like me. Instead, I tried to imitate others. The end result, of course, was that I seemed fake and nobody really knew me.

But as I grow older I find I'm less frightened, not only for my physical safety, but for my emotional safety as well. These days I really don't care all that much what people think of me. I don't know if it comes with age or with simply accepting myself for who I am. Perhaps it was finally running that 5k I always talked about. Could be my small successes at work, as a mom, or as a friend. Whatever it is that's changed me, it's been very liberating. It felt so good to lay all that angst down and just walk away.

So, the next time somebody offers me a balloon ride, I'm going up. Paddleboarding? I'm there. Hiking in bear-infested woods...pause for thought...yeah, give me a loud bell and some bear repellent and I'd even take that on. And if I ever get the chance again, I'm going surfing.Rock on!

Dreaming of Arick

Carly, Maggie and Arick

"Death is but the next great adventure." J.K. Rowling

Why is it that some of us are visited by loved ones who have passed away and others are not? I had that very discussion last night with a woman who lost her son at age 19, some 15 years ago. Arick died of a rare type of cancer just 10 months after he was diagnosed. It's hard to imagine how devastating that would be for any parent.

Two days after he died, his mom Julie had a vivid dream in which she was sitting in the living room of a farm house that she had once lived in years earlier. In the dream, she says Arick sat down beside her, picked up her hand and just patted it.

"The first thing I noticed was that he was fully grown.," Julie says. "He hadn't been when we lived in that house. And he had hair! He didn't when he died. I remember turning away to tell his dad that he was there, and when I looked back he was gone and  immediately I was wide awake," So I asked her why she had that experience when others who were also grieving did not. Turns out I'm not the first person who's asked her that.

"I think it was because I needed that experience. For comfort. And he knew it." It wasn't the only time she's felt his presence.

"Shortly after he died I was at home alone, downstairs by myself when I heard the radio coming from upstairs. It was his radio. So I went up and shut it off," she tells me. "I went back downstairs and before I could get back to what I was doing, it turned on again. I went back up there and said, 'Arick, that's enough,' and it stopped."

Arick's sister also dreamed that he came and sat beside her on the couch,when she was going through her own illness. All he said was, "It's tough, isn't it?" But Julie says Maggie felt enormously comforted by it.

And one of Arick's friends actually saw him. She was going to college at NDSU where he had been a student. She was walking home and she heard stomping behind her. She turned to look but nobody was there. She walked again and again heard the stomping. This time when she turned around, she told Julie that Arick was standing there with a big, goofy grin on his face. And she said he was wearing this weird stocking cap with long tails on either side.

"When she told us that my sister said, 'Oh my God!' That was a hat that he used to wear." It turns out that this girl had a medical problem of her own and was scared about it. Julie thinks Arick was once again comforting someone he cared about.

She says she still feels his presence every once in a while, and while she can't prove it, she believes he makes it his mission to offer comfort. And she's received another important gift from her son. She has lost her fear of death.

"Don't get me wrong," she said. "It's not that I want to die, but I'm not afraid of it like I used to be. I know who's there, waiting for me." She says it with conviction and some pretty intense love.

https://www.amazon.com/Gift-Death-Message-Comfort-Hope/dp/0692745610/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1474596023&sr=8-1&keywords=gift+of+death

Looking Into the Eyes of God While Sitting in a Bookstore

We search so hard for answers to the questions of eternity, and yet, when it comes time to talk about it, we shut down. Yesterday I spent a wonderful two hours in the company of friends and family at a bookstore, signing books. As always happens, people stepped up to share their stories of death, near death and the pain of losing a loved one.

One beautiful woman knelt down beside me at the table and told me in a quiet voice about her father's recent illness. He recently came near to death and when he was coming out of anesthesia, he said something that troubled her. Basically, he said he was "broke down" and mentioned leaving. It wasn't clear to her what he meant, whether he was ready and wanted to go or whether he didn't want her to be there. Either idea brought tears to her eyes. We chatted a moment about some possibilities, but in the end I suggested she just ask him. I hope she did. Hospice workers have told me that bringing up the topic and giving people a chance to talk about their concerns can be a huge relief to all concerned.
I'm told that leaving a loved one can be the hardest part of dying. I take comfort in knowing that we're parting for a blink of an eye when you look at it in terms of eternity.
https://www.amazon.com/Gift-Death-Message-Comfort-Hope/dp/0692745610/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1474221661&sr=8-2&keywords=gift+of+death

I was on North Dakota Today today, as a guest rather than the co-host. An odd experience being in the interview seat, after so many years of doing the interviewing myself. But fun! If you want to see the interview, go here.

http://www.kfyrtv.com/ndtoday/content/news/Monicas-new-book-Gift-of-Death-393588341.html

Renita Brannan Interviews Me About My Book

Be Not Afraid

There is a home in Wilmington, Delaware run by the Ministry of Caring. Fr. Ronald Giannone works there, mainly with people who are dying of AIDS. He tells me that people too often come into the home depressed and in despair. The pain he sees is more emotional than physical, even though the patients are dying of their illness. He says they are often ostracized by family because of their lifestyle choices -- and the belief that their illness was caused by their own behavior. They feel abandoned.

A big part of the work he and his team do is to reconcile these people with their loved ones, and when it happens, the patients can relax and turn from their regrets. But even when reconciliation doesn't happen, they receive the love of the family formed by their fellow patients and the workers at the Ministry of Caring. He says this love changes everything. The halls of the home are not somber, but joyful. When people die, they are mourned, but celebrated, too. Every day is a celebration of the gifts of God.

Even more important than the love of others, is the constant message that they are the children of a God who will never stop loving them, and will always welcome them home. I thought of this as I listened today to the Gospel of the Prodigal Son, thankful that it is true for all of us.  Luke 15:11-34

Spinning Toward the Great Beyond, Unafraid. But Then....

Have you seen the movie, Sully, yet? Here's the trailer:
https://youtu.be/mjKEXxO2KNE
It deals with the pilot who landed his passenger jet on the Hudson River after hitting a flock of geese. Nobody wants to go down in a plane crash because you have to face your terror on the way to the ground. But I've also talked with people who have been in life-threatening situations who weren't frightened at all...while it was happening.

In fact, it happened to me. I remember as a young woman I was riding as a passenger in the front seat of a hot little sports car. The car was mine, actually, and normally I would have been driving it but I had a headache and so my companion volunteered to take the wheel. It was a snowy day and the road was covered in slush -- not an unusual scenario in a North Dakota winter. I hunkered down in my seat and closed my eyes. I opened them again when my friend started to panic. We were passing a semi and it was throwing slush onto our windshield. She thought the truck was drifting into our lane so she slammed on the brakes. We started to spin, fortunately away from the truck, but into the ditch.

And it was at that moment that I realized I was not wearing my seatbelt. I remember clearly thinking, "Great, the one time in my adult life when I forget to buckle up, and this happens. I'm going to die." The spin went on for only seconds. The car had a low center of gravity, and didn't flip. Add to that the fact that the ditch had two feet of snow in it, and we came to a fairly sudden stop. And THEN, I got scared. But during the spin I was not frightened at all. My thoughts were clear. So is it death itself that's scary, or the lingering thought of it that frightens people so much?

I think it's the thought. Because I've heard over and over again from people who are nearing death, and those who have been with people facing death, that in the final moments that fear goes away and peace takes over. You'll meet some of them in my new book.

Gift of Death -- A Message of Comfort and Hope

Silanus Casey and the Baby's Face

When I was carrying my first baby, the midwife hired by the hospital to help me through my labor told me I would remember the night she was born for the rest of my life, and I do, every moment of it. When I saw her face for the first time I thought she was perfect, the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen. Don't all mom's think that? Here she is at 3 months.

Friendships can happen anywhere, and I made a new one on a cruise ship during a Transatlantic crossing. It was a long cruise, and this woman and I had a lot of time to talk. During one of those discussions, we compared notes on our children and pulled out our pictures as moms tend to do. Her daughter was a beautiful woman in her mid 50s, with red hair and green eyes. Imagine my surprise when she shared with me that this lovely woman had been born with a bright red birthmark that covered her left cheek. This mother also thought her daughter was beautiful, but she knew that life can be hard for those who are different. So she set about to find a cure.

Doctors tried various methods to reduce the redness, but nothing could make it go away. Her parents finally took their little girl to a priest they had heard about, Fr. Solanus Casey, a holy man with a reputation for working miracles. He was quite old by then. This was in the mid to late 50s, shortly before his death. Fr. Casey took the little girl from her mother's arms and laid her on the altar of his church. He prayed for a moment and then handed her back to her mother. He didn't promise a cure. He simply told them not to worry. So they didn't.

The woman said the birthmark didn't fade right away. But it started to slowly lighten, and one day was gone. That wasn't the miracle, though. She said the miracle was that the little girl's mother stopped fretting about it. The encounter strengthened her family's faith and was a lesson in simply trusting that God has us in the palm of his hand. The little girl with the birthmark went on to have a very successful and happy life.

Fr. Casey was a fascinating guy. To find out more about him, go here:

http://www.solanuscasey.org/portal.php