Seeing the Osprey in the Storm

This morning, driving through the rain back home after a walk with Charlie, I realized my gas tank was getting low. With a shudder I pulled into the station I usually patronize, seeing that gas had jumped another ten cents a gallon. As the dollars rolled upwards, on the gas pump, I started to feel the whininess come over me. Wow! Forty-three dollars! That’s crazy!! I caught myself before I made some sarcastic remark to the attendant. It’s not his fault, after all, that gas has gotten so expensive; he has probably heard about it all morning long. For the past month, in fact.

And what’s with this weather! Here it is the 29th of March and we haven’t even hit 60 degrees yet this year. All we get is rain rain rain!! I was starting to go into a negative spin when I stopped myself.

Okay, Maureen, what about the ospreys. Wasn’t it great to see them again? I had seen one of them flying over us during our walk and realized the pair Charlie and I watched raise their chicks last summer had returned to their nest by the Clackamas River. Today I took a different path that led right under their nest. Charlie and I watched Mom and Dad Osprey fly back and forth, carrying sticks to shore up their nest, refurbishing it after a long, wet winter. Charlie was intrigued when he heard their chirping sounds and realized there were living creatures up there moving around. It will be fun to follow their lives for another summer.

Obviously these are not today's osprey photos. Would that the sky had been blue!

These were taken along the Rogue River a couple summers ago. But, hey, they're still osprey!

And even though it is dark and rainy now, it was only misting lightly during our walk. And I had the umbrella. And the wind didn’t blow it inside out. Rumor has it there might be radiation in that rain, carried aloft somehow from the nuclear disaster in Japan. But I managed to avoid getting much on my skin; I’m undoubtedly much safer than those people living in Japan who are so much closer.


As I drove home and into my garage I reminded myself that I still have a house, running water, heat to warm up after a chilly walk. And I own a car to drive and can actually afford to pay those outrageous prices for gas – at least I could today. And if paying a little more for gas is the price of freedom for people in the Middle East, I should be willing to make that sacrifice for them.

This little exercise in spinning my perspective helped me look more closely at how very blessed and fortunate I am.

Think about all your friends, your family, Maureen. Wasn’t it great that Karl brought Jesse, Eli and Asher over and you got to spend most of Saturday with them? How fortunate you are to be healthy and able to enjoy grandchildren. And to have such a great community of friends. You’re really not alone, you just convince yourself that you are!

It’s so easy for me to find things to get upset about, to feel badly about; it can begin to spiral downward. It takes a lot more work sometimes to spin those things and find the positive perspective. The next book I am planning to publish through Gray Wings Press is a collection of women’s stories about finding the positive gifts in negative or difficult life experiences. These will include reflections by a number of women about difficult or challenging things in their lives and how they have been able to fight through and grow, and become more whole.

Originally I was just going to compile and edit this book, but recently a couple of women dropped out so I decided I would do a chapter, as well. I decided to write about loneliness. Anyone who reads this blog regularly knows this is an issue that I often struggle with. So perhaps by writing about loneliness and exploring ways to “spin” that, find the gift in it, I can help myself as well as others. This will also address the sister concern of feeling no sense of purpose in my life.

Feedback I’ve received from women who are contributing chapters to this book is that it has been a cathartic, healing experience for them to explore their pain and share it with as-yet-unknown readers. It seems to me that in sharing our stories with each other, we find kinship. We have much more in common than we realize, and we learn that every one of us has a piece of wisdom. By listening to each other and sharing our stories and wisdom, we all become wiser. We often believe we are alone in our struggles and pain, but in sharing, we learn we are all together.

A Lonely Journey Looking for Hope

I’m beginning to hate retirement.

I retired almost four years ago to travel around the country in a motor home, following a dream John and I had shared. The hardest part of that journey was being alone so much of the time and so far from friends and family. Last year I finished writing and published my book about that journey, 42 States of Grace: A Woman’s Journey.

One of the reasons I returned to Portland, where I was transplanted some 33 years ago, was because my community is here, my friends, my faith community. Out of my biological family of six siblings, one brother who is single lives here, and I see him maybe once a week, on average. Of my two children, one lives in Coos Bay with her husband and I see her probably five times a year, give or take.

For the past year, up until last month, my son had been living with me. This took some adjusting to and definitely had its drawbacks. But one of the huge benefits was having someone in my life on an ongoing basis. It helped combat the chronic loneliness I deal with since John died. Karl was home most evenings and weekends and he brought my darling grandson, Jesse, over to spend nearly every weekend. Last month he moved back in with his wife. I have no idea where this will go, but I am happy for him and hope for his sake, and for Jesse’s, that it works out this time. I admire his perseverance and faith that eventually this would work out, and I hope and pray that is rewarded with a long and happy relationship.

Again, there are many blessings in this, for me as well as for him, but there is also great challenge and pain for me. I barely get to see Karl or Jesse, haven’t, in fact, seen them for two weeks. And once again I struggle with loneliness, being alone often for days on end without a face-to-face conversation with someone I love. Except Charlie, of course, and he’s not a great conversationalist, to say the least! Once again it seems my life has been completely stripped of purpose and meaning, and once again it is due to events over which I have absolutely no control.

Today, after Mass – the one time I can at least count on talking to people, touching and hugging and laughing and smiling with friends -- I called Karl to see if he and Jesse were coming to visit. He had too many things to take care of. It feels as though I don’t matter. We’ve had this conversation before, but I don’t want to go there again. I don’t want to GUILT him into seeing me. I don’t want him to see it as a duty. But at the same time, I am deeply disappointed.

So I took Charlie out for a long walk, where it seemed that everyone was walking with friends or family, spouse/partners or children. After my walk I did a little grocery shopping – something I do much less of since Karl and Jesse are seldom here, one of those little benefits. Partly I just needed to be with people, but all the people were again parts of families or couples and I’m sure I was invisible or at least inconsequential.

It hasn’t escaped me that 10 or 15 years ago I would have loved having a weekend in solitude. But like anything else, too much of a good thing becomes a really bad thing. And it’s not that I mind my own company; I think I’m pretty great company in small doses. I think perhaps it’s mostly my perspective. This being alone stuff is painful because I never expected this is how I would spend my life. It doesn’t fit in with my plan. I was supposed to be retired with my husband, doing great things together. After he was killed, I was supposed to find someone wonderful to share my life with. Besides Charlie.

Many people I know are struggling with challenges these days. Many people are looking for work and incredibly frustrated – and afraid -- that nothing seems to be available that matches their skills or experience. I have been there myself, years of trying to find a job in my career path with little luck. I have experienced my husband’s pain in trying to find work to support his family, again for several years. There were years when I worried we would lose our house or suffer similar financial setbacks. But I always had faith that we would be okay, even if we had to live in our car, because we would have each other, we would still be a family, and that was what mattered most. In retrospect, I didn't appreciate how fortunate and blessed I was then.

Now, I have a regular stream of income, primarily from John’s retirement, but I have no family to share my life with on an ongoing basis, no one special to be with. I think if I had to choose, I would take those days of fighting through as a family and knowing I was loved and valued rather than my current life of just figuring out how to make it through the next long, lonely, pointless day.

And so I find myself asking God on a daily basis for some kind of relief, some glimmer of hope that I will not have to spend the rest of my life alone and lonely and irrelevant. But I also pray that if that is my role for the next 20 or 30 years, or however long I have left on this earth, that I am able to find some acceptance, joy and peace in this life I have found myself living, that I find purpose and meaning and ways to make a difference.

Unfinished Symphonies

"In the torment of the insufficiency of everything attainable we eventually learn that here, in this life, all symphonies remain unfinished." -- Karl Rahner, SJ

I know I've already posted today, but you take inspiration where and when it comes and those "aha" moments should be captured and maybe even shared.  It came this afternoon as I was walking Charlie.  We often see Canada geese as we walk in my neighborhood, which is fairly close to the confluence of the Clackamas and Willamette rivers.  I have always loved them and use a drawing of one as my logo; perhaps they are my totem. I love that they are "community," that they mate for life, that they're really kind of pretty and, maybe most of all, that they sing continually, even if they don't have the most melodious song.  I never fail to stop and just watch as a flock flies overhead.

Today, gazing on the numerous flocks of geese flying over our heads, I thought about a video a friend had posted on Facebook that I had watched earlier. It was of someone scuba diving off the coast of Kauai and in the background, amid the turtles and trigger fish, you could hear the songs of humpback whales.  Thinking about the song of the whales and the call of the geese connected me to that Karl Rahner quote.

The geese, the whales, other birds, the wind in the trees, the rivers bubbling and singing over rapids -- all of these things, I realized this morning, are part of the unfinished symphony: a symphony of praise and thanksgiving to our Creator that is meant to go on and on forever.  The geese pass their songs on to the goslings; the whales to their calves. I don't know if they actually teach these songs to their young or if it is inherent in them, part of their spirit. I think perhaps the latter is true.

We, too, have our own songs inherent in us, created and formed in us before we were born. And our songs are all part of the symphony of all of creation.  Being a singer myself and having sung in my church choir for a number of years, I can easily slip into song at any little suggestion. One song springs to mind that has long been used in Catholic liturgies: Marty Haugen's Canticle of the Sun: The heavens are telling the glory of God, and all creation is shouting for joy . . . sing, sing to the glory of the Lord."  This doesn't list a biblical citation but I suspect it is based on Psalm 19: "How clearly the sky reveals God's glory! How plainly it shows what he has done!"

Somehow this morning I felt comforted knowing that we are all part of this unfinished symphony, that we are all called to go on singing our songs, knowing we will never hear the ending -- at least not in this life -- but it is up to us to keep carrying the tune for others to continue after we are gone.  If I didn't feel connected to others, nature, all of creation before, I certainly do now.

So get out there and sing your song, whether you think it's beautiful or worth listening to doesn't matter. God loves your part of the music of life.

Touching God Through the Homeless

Yesterday morning I spent time with a group of homeless women and some of the volunteers who work with them at the day center that provides meals, clothing, classes, activities to bring a little joy, light, hope, safety and companionship into their lives.  Some of the women have a book club and are currently reading and discussing my book, 42 States of Grace.  These women ranged in age, education and ability and it was touching to hear the wisdom some were able to share. But they don’t consider themselves wise or gifted in any way. Most have been told far too many times that they have little or no worth or value. 

We tend to put homeless people – along with a lot of other people we come into contact with and judge on surface information – in a tiny box. They are addicts or alcoholics, they have no education, they are mentally ill, or they are just pain lazy or irresponsible. Those are often the descriptors we use when we encounter the homeless.  Some of them are true but not for everyone who is homeless, and even if true, that doesn’t mean they are throw-away people. They deserve our respect and consideration. But you often don't realize that until you spend time with a few people on the margins of our society.

Sometimes people just hit a really bad patch that leads to a downward spiral.  Or it could be the result of one or two bad choices.  Any number of things could throw people off track and out of their homes.

I know from personal experience that if you lose a job, it can be a Herculean task to try to find another, especially in a bad economy like we have now.  The longer you are unemployed, the more rusty your skills become, the more dispirited and even depressed you can become, making it far more difficult to find work.  Keeping positive in the face of continuing rejection is very daunting even for people with plenty of tools and support. Many of these women have little of either.

I know from personal experience that devastating medical bills can happen literally overnight, and if you are uninsured or you reach your insurance limits, your financial health is severely threatened, especially if the medical condition impacts your ability to work. Most of the bankruptcies in this country, I am told, result from uncovered medical expenses.

I know from personal experience that losing a spouse can push you into a mind-frame in which you make poor decisions, either from stress or from not having a partner to mull the decisions over with. I’ve made plenty of really bad financial decisions in the past seven years, and other decisions that I would not have been faced with at all if John were still alive. 

One of the women I spoke with had her college degree and work experience in her professional field, but circumstances on her job made it impossible for her to stay; and she has subsequently spiraled down financially and emotionally to the point of becoming homeless.  I have met women who were studying for a professional career but the stress of studying and working and/or raising a family was so overwhelming they sought “help” in controlled substances or alcohol.

Members of my own middle-class biological family have been faced with the challenges of spouses and/or children addicted to drugs or alcohol. It is a painful and helpless situation.

I think it is only in spending time with people we tend to put in boxes that we are able to see the individuals and the gifts they are. It is in hearing their stories that we are able to understand, have compassion, and be open to the goodness and lovability of all humans. 

One of the often-proclaimed but usually-ignored calls of the Christian faith is to follow Jesus’ lead of being with the poor, the people on the margins. We are called not only to give a couple bucks to the Salvation Army or our used clothing to Good Will and consider we have done our duty, but to actually be present to, in companionship with, those who are hurting. It is in learning on a more intimate level the struggles and challenges of the poor and coming to know them as people that we are able to have true compassion, respect and love for others. It is very often we who are most blessed in this endeavor by letting go of prejudices and becoming more attuned to all of creation and, thus, becoming more in touch with God.

So I give thanks for the opportunity to meet and share with these women. I hope I gave them as much inspiration as they gave me.