So Glad To Not Be Travelin

A Day for Miracles
A Day for Miracles
Vancouver, Wash., June 26 -- Yesterday afternoon I witnessed a miracle, an amazing reminder of how very loved we are, how beautiful our creation is, and how precious life is. My grandson, Jesse John, was born around 6:20 p.m. He is the living sign of love between his parents, my son Karl and his wife De Anna. His birth is the culmination of the love Karl’s father, John, and I shared that brought Karl into the world almost 26 years ago. Nearly five years after John died in an accident, his legacy continues through his children and now, a grandson.

While I was in the birthing room with Dee pushing, Karl coaching and their friend Cathy also supporting, amid a huge troop of nurses and doctors, I couldn’t help tearing up a bit. It was a very poignant reminder of how much John would have loved to see his grandson. I remember how pleased and excited he was at the birth of both Kristin and Karl. He would have been the proudest grandpa in the world. It would have been so wonderful to share this exciting event with him, to revel in the fruits of our love for each other, instead of coming home to only a dog, even if he is a great dog.

But at the same time there was a recognition that this little boy carries his father’s blood and therefore his grandfather’s blood. Even though John wasn’t there, his spirit was undoubtedly there and I have every confidence that John will be watching over his grandson from Heaven. And a part of John lives on through his son and grandson. That is a special blessing, knowing that we live on through those we love, not only in memory but in blood, as well.

Weighing in at just 5 pounds, 6 ounces, Jesse’s a skinny guy, but at nearly 20 inches is in the 90th percentile for length. His fingers are long and slender, his legs long and very slender. He has no fat on his bones but everything else is there -- ten fingers, ten toes, a darling little nose and ears sweet as rose petals. His pink bow of a mouth is perfect and while he has a good strong cry, we haven’t heard it very often. A sweet, contented baby, it seems.

Jesse was born a month early because his mother De Anna was experiencing preeclampsia and her blood pressure was spiking. After about 14 hours of observation in the hospital her doctors decided to induce labor about 10 hours after that he was born. Jesse’s daddy, Karl, was born a month early also, weighing in at 5 pounds, 14 ounces. He is now about 6’3” and around 240 pounds, I think. Kristin, Jesse’s aunt, was three weeks early but weighed just five pounds. Little babies are so sweet.

Karl is absolutely awestruck by this wonderful child who has come into his life. Clearly he is in love. He was beaming all day yesterday and today when I went to visit them. He is so cute and excited and nervous and worried. He will be a fabulous father; I have no doubts. Dee has three boys already -- her middle son, Asher, who is six -- is in one of the pictures with his new brother. She is much more relaxed, though Jesse is smaller than any of her other boys were. She will be as good a mother to him as she is with her other boys. And I hope to be a happy and fulfilled grandmother who will spoil my grandson with every good thing I can, totally shower him with love and homemade cookies.

It is amazing how the birth of a tiny, helpless baby touches us all in tender places we sometimes forget we have. They are so precious, so fragile. And so very easy to love. Their little heads -- as soft and sweet and fuzzy as a ripe peach -- beg to be kissed and caressed. Their tiny fingers grasp ours, and their little mouths kiss the air, spreading love to all around them. They come from love, are the result of love. It is hard to hold a newborn baby and not think of our God who came to us as a child to share life with us, to be one of us. Every child is a reminder that we are incredibly beloved by God.

Jesse was the Biblical father of David. It was from his line -- the root of Jesse -- that Jesus was descended. His name, according to my friend Barb whose son is also named Jesse, means “of God.” Truly this child is a special gift from God, a reminder that we are loved abundantly, tremendously, more than we can ever imagine.

Traveling Life Nearing an End

This is my last week of living the life of a Nomad. At least for the foreseeable future.

Tomorrow I sign papers at the escrow company and the house will officially be mine with possession next Monday. For the time being I will park the Mo in the extra parking area next to the house. I may try to find an electrician who can fix up a plug-in for it, and water would be easy, but sewer is much more challenging. But at least with electric service I can turn lights on and off and take my time cleaning it up. Then I will try much more diligently to sell it or somehow at least get out from under the payments.

It will be so very nice to have a house -- a home -- that is anchored to the ground again. I look forward to just letting Charlie out to play unfettered in the fenced back yard. I can’t wait to begin doing some gardening, and there are so many things I will want to do to make the house my own. Some of it will take time, most of it will take money. I have time; money is more of a challenge, at least while I am making dual payments on the Mo and the house.

I am thrilled to once again have a washer and dryer in my home, a dishwasher, a full-sized refrigerator, a garage and so many other little things that I previously took for granted. If I have learned nothing else on this side trip of my life (Oh, but I have learned so much!!) it is how easily we or at least I forget that the life we have here is an exquisite and much-sought-after luxury for so many people all over the world.

I have done all the little signups for utilities. I may end up getting a basic phone line for local calls, I may end up changing my internet service since the Verizon package I signed up for isn’t as strong or fast or reliable as I’d like it to be. Or I may just keep that for when I am away from home base with my computer. I need to do a forwarding address with the Post Office and let my regular senders (I don’t have very many of those, fortunately) know my new address.

I have a few things to furnish my new home with. Recently I ordered a mattress set from Overstock.com -- first time I’ve used them. It was a great bargain compared to other mattresses I’ve checked out locally. It may take awhile to arrive, though, so I may have to drag the Mo’s mattress into the house temporarily. I also purchased a very lovely wool and silk area rug for the living room. I splurged at a big warehouse sale the other day and bought a Kitchen Aid mixer, something I’ve wanted for a very long time.

I can get my sofa back from my brother, my piano and grandfather clock back from my son, and a few other things he has been storing for me. I think he has some of my pictures and possibly also some of my work clothes -- if he doesn’t, I’m not sure where they ended up! I will probably eventually buy my dining room table back from my brother in Yakima if I can figure out how to get it down here.

But I still need a bed frame and dresser or set of drawers. I need a desk and bookshelf. I must have some way to play my cd’s so I can have music; music is critical for me. I probably will also need to get a microwave -- I’m just too spoiled to not have one -- and a way to play my dvd’s and tapes. I will just bring my TV in from the Mo -- I just bought it in January and only got it hooked up in May. So once I have possession I will probably begin doing some garage or estate sales and see what I can come up with. I don’t want to get too much stuff -- that was part of the idea of winnowing down in the first place -- but I will need a few things, the basics to allow me to be somewhat organized and functional.

So life goes ever onward, the journey has many twists and turns and bends. One of the wonderful surprises I just discovered is that the Franciscan Spiritual Center is less than a mile from my new home. They will be offering a series of talks/retreats/workshops? on the Mystics this fall so I plan to attend as many of those as I can. They will be Friday mornings so I will have my Contemplative prayer at 7, Mass at 8, then from 10 to noon will be studying the Mystics. Life is good.

TravelinLady

Columbia River Gorge Shows Off

My brother Tom and I drove out to the Gorge with Charlie today and took some short hikes to a couple of the waterfalls. We took the Historic Columbia River Highway out of Troutdale, following the Sandy River south until it heads east towards Corbett. We stopped briefly at Crown Point and Vista House for the amazing views east up the Gorge. There were clouds and haze but plenty of green. This view is breathtaking no matter what the weather, although rainy, windy days are probably not the best time to visit this area.

We stopped at Latourell Falls along the Old Highway and took the short mostly paved trail up to a viewpoint and then down to the falls and stream. Charlie went wading and had a drink of icy cold mountain stream but he didn’t stay in the water long.

Our next stop up the road was Bridal Veil Falls. Again we took the 2/3rd mile trail, partially paved, to the waterfall overlook. If you have never been to the Columbia River Gorge with its 77 beautiful waterfalls on the Oregon side alone, you have missed an absolutely breathtaking (in more ways than one) experience. Some of the falls are easily accessible but others require a fairly strenuous hike. You can learn more at this website: http://www.a2zgorge.info/area/columbia_gorge_waterfalls.htm.

Since we’re both badly out of shape we only did the two falls but I had enough foresight to bring my camera and so will share a few photos I took today. In addition to the waterfalls, many of the wildflowers were out in abundance. Hopefully this will make up for my recent blog posts without photos.

Having traveled a good part of our country -- though admittedly not seeing every beautiful thing there is to see across this wide land -- I still contend that overall Oregon has one of the most beautiful and varied landscapes of any of the 45 states I’ve visited. Feel free to disagree but you’ll have a hard time convincing me otherwise.

Last night, after helping put on a wonderful event for people who volunteer in a wide variety of roles at my parish and seeing many dear friends, I came home to a stunning sunset -- glowing fireclouds with deep smokey-rose centers -- and a full silver moon coming up in the east. Sadly I did not have my camera when I took Charlie for his last walk of the night. Cameras never capture the beauty, anyway; they produce very limited and incomplete imitations of reality.

So once again God has sent me reminders of how much He loves me, how much He loves all of us. Whenever I get down, if I look expectantly around, I will always find those reminders in nature, in people.

TravelinLady

Lonely Days, Lonely Nights

In his autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain, Thomas Merton describes the Holy Week he spent in retreat when he first discovered Our Lady of Gethsemane Monastery, the Cisterician community he later joined. He talks about the consecration during the first Mass with the Monks:

“Do you know what Love is? You have never known the meaning of Love, never, you who have always drawn all things to the center of your own nothingness. Here is Love in this chalice full of Blood, Sacrifice, mactation. Do you not know that to love means to be killed for glory of the Beloved? And where is your love? Where is now your Cross, if you say you want to follow Me, if you pretend you love Me?”

A couple pages later he describes the life of the Cistercians (Trappists) and compares it with the Carthusians, “the ones who had gone the farthest, climbed the highest on the mountain of isolation that lifted them above the world and concealed them in God. . . . The Carthusian worked alone, in his cell, in his own garden or workshop, isolated. . . . The Carthusian ate alone, sitting in the window alcove of his cell, with no one to speak to him but God. All day long and all night long the Cistercian was with his brothers. All day long and all night long, except for the offices in choir and other intervals, the Carthusian was with God alone.” The Cistericans held silence and did not hold conversations while the Carthusians were encouraged to go on recreational walks, two-by-two, and to converse in order to break the silence to some degree, perhaps to avoid insanity.

These days I think aloneness is my cross. Sometimes it feels like I spend nearly all my time -- 80 to 90 percent probably -- alone. I eat alone. I work alone. I occasionally am able to have brief conversations with people but these tend to be short: visits before or after Mass, saying hello to neighbors whose comments are usually restricted to telling me how beautiful my dog is. Usually very shallow and short comments. Sometimes I have phone conversations with my sisters or sisters-in-law, the latter being much less frequent. Sometimes my brother drops by for a visit and walk. But on the whole I spend far too much time alone with not enough of value to do in that time. Not working contributes greatly to that alone time. Being a widow also contributes a great deal. People with a spouse and children at home or nearby have no idea how lonely it can be without them. They would probably love a little alone time. I would love a little more “together” time.

So I read. I pray. I talk to my God and I talk to my dog. I check my email in hopes that someone will have sent me something more personal than a forward or junk mail. I listen to the radio and watch the evening news on television.

It is my own fault, undoubtedly. I chose to be alone in spite of having a good man who could have been an ongoing part of my life. I chose to retire from my work which, though it sometimes drove me crazy, also allowed me a great deal of interaction with a wide variety of people. I chose to sell my home, my things, and live in this little moving cell, my motor home. So yes, maybe I’m getting what I asked for. But you often get more than you bargain for in life, or less, and finding a happy medium is nearly impossible.

How many people, in their later years, find themselves exactly where I am? A life full of family and home and work is suddenly gone. The empty hours crawl by while you wait to hear from a loved one, wait to be invited to be with friends who are too busy with their own lives and families to think about your needs? Is this what God has called me to? Why? If God is speaking to me, I cannot seem to hear over the deep silence that my life has become filled with.

Perhaps it will just take more time to adjust to this new life. It’s been barely a year since I retired, but it’s been almost five years since I was widowed, and well over four years since both my children left home. This was clearly not the kind of retirement I expected and looked forward to. So how do I make this life that I now have work? How do I find fulfillment without compromising myself? Is this part of the holy longing that Ronald Rollhesier wrote about? Part of that Augustinian theology that believes our hearts are restless until they rest in God?

All I know for sure is that this life of isolation sometimes feels like it's killing me. And maybe that’s God’s point.

TravelinLady

As Winter Wanes . . . Not

I think Mother Nature is confused. Maybe she’s getting senile, or else there are just so many environmental issues for her to worry about she got a little mixed up. I think she thinks it’s January and not June. It is cold and dreary here. While it is common to have rain during Rose Festival week here in Portland, I don’t recall it ever being quite so chilly and dank. It is only supposed to be in the 50s here today and there are possibilities of thunder storms and hail here in Portland, snow in the mountains. Seems like forever since we’ve seen the sun for more than a brief glimpse. I finally broke down and turned my heater on this morning for a bit just to ward off the chill.

It makes me doubly glad I was able to spend so much time in the sunny south this winter and spring and makes me sorry we had to come back so soon. We would probably still be in New Mexico or Colorado or even farther east and south if we hadn’t decided we needed to be home earlier. But then, on the flip side, we would be paying even more dearly for diesel. I realize that if I hadn’t made the decision to travel this past year I would never have done it. I would not have set off with fuel prices so high.

Charlie is getting cabin fever. I take him for walks whenever the weather lets up a bit but I would really like to get him out for a long hike or something. It would be good for both of us. When he gets too bored he likes to tear up things, usually paper he finds. So far he hasn’t torn up anything too valuable. We did take a fairly long walk yesterday afternoon when my brother dropped by. Charlie keeps running out to his car to see if Nick is there. He is always disappointed.

As of today I’ve had a nibble or two on the motor home but nothing substantial. I am continuing to advertise but it feels rather hopeless at this point, I fear. However, I am going ahead with the house. The inspections showed a couple of fairly expensive repairs that should be made and many small things. The roof will probably need to be replaced in the next 5-7 years. My realtor and I wrote up an addendum to the sale yesterday to try to take care of some of those things. The rest will just wait until I get there.


I have been shopping for appliances, primarily a washer and dryer, but also looking at gas ranges and will eventually switch the water heater to gas. It is old and rusty and will probably need to be replaced in the fairly near future. I splurged and bought a beautiful wool and silk hand-tied Persian rug at a bankruptcy sale. While it was marked down more than $4,500, I later found out for the same amount I could have gotten a very nice gas range. Oh well. I will try not to be too frivolous; there are so many things I still need to do. I also spent some time yesterday looking at stone flooring. Wow, there are some gorgeous things out there. Not cheap, but I will do the installation work myself, I think.


I continue to be busy with church things and earlier this week worked on a Habitat for Humanity build for one of our parish families, a family of six from Togo, I think. It was part of a blitz where they did five houses in a week’s time. Pretty amazing: from the foundation to finish work. I did some painting and scraping and helped some with other things. Habitat is a wonderful program and I am glad that I have been able to volunteer and it is one of my ongoing financial donations.
This morning after contemplative prayer I spoke with one of our staff members, a Holy Names Sister whom I spoke with at the retreat last weekend. She encouraged me to consider a program they are doing to discern where and how people want to give their time to their parish and faith community. It will include four retreats and faith sharing opportunities, as well as reading suggestions. It sounds like exactly what I need.


So once again, as I continue to stumble along kind of blindly, God is sending me guides to help me find my right path. Seems like there are a lot of people like me, trying to figure out what to do with their lives, how they are being called to serve. I spoke with a woman who will go to Ethiopia this summer with her teenage son to work on some Habitat builds there. I’ve spoken with others who are taking a “time out” from their careers to try to figure out the next step. I always go back to Thomas Merton’s prayer that asks for guidance but hopes that whatever we do, if done for love of God and in the hope of service to God, will please God. And then there is the prayer by Julian of Norwich: “All shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well.” It is a matter of trusting God to point us in the right direction. It is a matter of listening for guidance and watching for God’s road signs as we travel along. And believing that we’re never really lost, just finding a different route, seeing a new road.


TravelinLady

Moving On

June 1, Portland, Ore -- It has now been more than a year since I left my work and sold my home and became something of a vagabond. But that life is soon to end. At least so it appears, and for the time being.

Last Wednesday, giving up hope of selling the Mo anytime soon but knowing I needed a permanent place to live, and suspecting that mortgage interest rates may be climbing (how could they not with fuel-price-induced inflation lurking on our horizon?) while housing prices seem to be stabilizing, at least here in Portland, I made an offer on a house. It was accepted and tomorrow morning we will see what the home inspectors have to say. Pending an acceptable inspection, I could once again be a homeowner, probably by the end of this month.

This is a 1964 ranch, 1230 square feet, three bedrooms, two baths, small family room, but very large yard and room to park the Mo. Yes, we even measured to make sure. So I can hold onto it for a bit longer and give fuel prices a chance to at least stabilize and most of the frantic sellers to get out of the market. It will be expensive to pay both payments but I think I can manage -- as long as I don’t drive very much.

The house is in Milwaukie, about 8 miles or 20 minutes from my parish. It will be substantially more affordable in some ways than living in Portland; for one thing, the property taxes are quite a bit less in this unincorporated area. Just buying the house will be less than a comparable home closer to downtown Portland. It has lots of potential for making it the home I ultimately want and is perfectly livable the way it is. But you have to have dreams.

So that is one huge issue I can lay to rest, at least pending the inspection tomorrow.

Second item on the agenda is my relationship with Jeff, my friend and companion for the past few months on the trip. There were many good things about our connection but I have had this reluctance to make a deeper commitment. I am not sure what is holding me back, other than the deep sense that it is just not right for me, for who I am now. It may be that NO relationship is right for me. I cannot see the future; it is murky and misty. But there is light shining in my life and that comes from my family, my friends, my parish community. And my God. So Jeff and I are no longer a couple in any way or shape. I hope we will remain friends -- we shared some wonderful experiences -- but that is ultimately up to him and how, in retrospect, he views our time together.

I attended a retreat yesterday with some of my fellow parishioners at the Trappist Abbey of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Lafayette, Ore. What a lovely, peaceful, prayerful place. It reminded me of my dream to have a place like that some day. Reality is that I don’t have and don’t ever expect to have the money necessary to buy a place like that.

The night before, I had dinner with a good friend, a former Jesuit, who offered some insight and suggestions in the form of a question. I explored that on Saturday during the retreat. I know I want to have God as the center of my life, whatever it ultimately looks like. I know I want to pray and praise God, to grow ever closer. I want to be a mystic when I grow up. How that comes to pass, and where that comes to pass, is still open. It will require much spiritual training for me -- thankfully most of that is available in the form of books and workshops and prayer and spiritual direction. I will be pursuing those once again -- I kind of took a time out from them during this last leg of the trip. I also will be talking with friends in the religious life about their own calls and how something like that might feel, might work for me. It is a thought that has come to mind a number of times, but I don’t know if it’s Catholic guilt or really God calling, whispering my name with love.

I also signed up to attend the Willamette Writers Conference in early August and have set up times to meet with agents about my prospective book. I’ve worked up a summary and will begin putting together some segments, mostly based on my blogs and journals.

So between buying a home and furnishing it -- remember, I have basically nada, having sold everything a year ago for next to nothing -- working on my book, volunteering at the parish (I cantor a Mass next weekend), and exploring my future, I have lots to keep me busy.

Last night after the retreat I volunteered at the all school reunion and was reminded once again of how strong this faith community is and how much I love it and all the people I have come to know in my 25 years of belonging here. So, I guess maybe more will follow in my trials and tribulations, my explorations and experiences.
TravelinLady