A Walk to the Mailbox

I see bubblegum pink out of the corner of my eye and turn to look. She is coming around the corner of her house wearing bubblegum pink pants with a white patterned hibiscus shirt, shadowed by more bubblegum pink. Her hair is as normal, with a few stray strands poking out her and there, as if a few rollers fell out before they should have. Today she carries an oversized light purple purse with a manila envelope peeking out; and as always her walker.

I have watched her many times. The first time I saw her she was struggling to pick up her walker and place it on the grass in front of her. She repeated this over and over until she got to the end of her yard and opened her mailbox.

Living on an island most people have to use the post office. Meaning we have to drive to get our mail. Elderly or disabled, or those who have someone managed to convenience the post office of a necessity; get to have their mail delivered. I was telling Mike the other day as we drove to the post office how I love getting the mail. He on the other hand has been to the post office more in the last six months than he had in the last three years.

The first time I saw her making her way to her mailbox, I wanted to stop and get her mail for her. It was painful to watch her pick up her walker, place it on the grass in front of her, scuff her feet up, and proceed to pick up her walker again and repeat this until she reached her destination. The thought came to me to organize a group of people to pay for and put it a walkway for her so she could just roll herself right out to get her mail.

My legs had no energy this morning as I ran. I could not even convince myself to push myself harder this morning. And then I spotted the bubblegum pink. A vision of struggle to complete an ordinary task made beautiful by her determination.

We never know what life will toss our way. We will face struggles and trials. We will find joy in unexpected places. We will experience pain that will never heal. We will see love in ways we never dreamed. Some days will be bad, some good, some great.

But we are gifted each day. Even if I have to pick up my own walker and plod my way to reach my destination, I will.

Running Thoughts

I signed up for a 5k on September 1 to motivate myself to start running again on a regular basis. It has been a little too easy for me to slip into the beach bum life. On my schedule this week was a 2 mile, 3 mile, and a 5 mile run, but we leave for a cruise on Wednesday. I originally planned to swap my 3 mile and 5 mile days since the thought of running 5 miles on the cruise track did not even pique my interest.
This morning Winston woke me up with is barking at 6:20. I was unable to fall back to sleep as my mind and heart were filled with thoughts of those I love. Those who have lost children, battling cancer, starting over, stuck in bad habits. I prayed for all of them...multiple times.
I was very sluggish this morning and did not run. Thinking it would be cooler to go in the evening I resigned myself to running later. I told Mike I was going to run 3-4 miles today, knowing that inside I really wanted to push for 5. Only the day kept getting hotter and hotter. Finally at 6, I decided to run.

After the first mile I hit the sand on the beach and the beauty of the ocean left me breathless. I can look at the ocean day after day and it leaves me speechless. There is a special power to the majestic mystery that it holds. Half way through my run I have the strongest urge to look back. I turn around and view the pier in the distance. Mindful of just how far I have come, but more aware of how far I have to go.

I can look back at my past and see how much I have grown. I have named my own faults and try to improve on them; I know just how strong I am, and just how weak I can be. I trust more, love more and share more. I am proud of who I am today. It took me a long time to be able to say that.

Yet, I know there is so much more ahead that will challenge, excite and stretch me to be more and more the me I am becoming. There is a list of things I want to experience, places I want to visit, and people I want to help. And whatever else God has in store for me.

As I exit the beach, I see a large lush and green garden just off the boardwalk. A man is weeding and I pause long enough to tell him just how beautiful his garden is. The tender care and attention he has given and continues to give to his garden has yielded something worthy of praise, and yet I bet he did not plant his garden with that intention.

I finish my run home smiling. Proud of myself for running 5 miles instead of taking the easy route and dropping down to 3. Thankful for the reminder of how far I have come, but with a renewed sense of excitement for focusing on what's ahead. And for the glimpse of beauty that reminds me to be humble.

PopPop

I was blessed to have four grandparents that I grew up knowing. Pop was the first to pass away in 1995. Followed with the passing of my grandmothers in 2008 and 2010. Today PopPop went to be reuinted with Grandma.

To me Frederick J. Elias was a devoted husband. There is much I do not know about him, but I can vividly remember that almost every time we would visit them, he would sit with Grandma's tired legs on his lap and rub them. Grandma was ill for a very long time and he did everything he could to take care of her. "Fred..." you would often hear her calling from across the house and he would respond...each and every time. He loved her.

When she passed away he was also ready to go. I suppose that is a true testament of just how much their lives intertwined and how connected they were. I imagine when you give so much of your life to a person and they are gone...there is simply no way to fill that void.

PopPop went on living, but would often comment in our talks just how much he missed Grandma. He spent time memorizing Bible verses in the last few years and there is a lot of time I am not sure how he filled.

Today though I am sad. I cry for the loss of PopPop, for all that I did not do or the calls I did not make before today. To knowing that my last grandparent is gone.

I believe that PopPop is in Heaven and that Jesus welcomed him home. And there is a small part of me that snickers in thinking that Grandma had a small part.... and when it was time she joyous called again, "Fred..." and he responded for the final time.

Having Today

Some things never get easier.

I grew up a pastor's kid and went to a lot of funerals. I can clearly remember the first funeral I went to. She was 101ish, a little old lady who had lived a long life. I was in 5th grade.

From that point on I went to countless funerals of congregation members. My great grandmother was the first of my relatives to die. I remember being dazed by all that was going on, but I did not cry. I did not know her. In 1995 I lost my Pop. I cried, a lot. I knew him.

The hardest funeral's though for me are the ones where it just doesn't seem fair. That life was cut too short too soon. The high school student who died in a car crash while her mother was driving on an icy road, my 9 month old niece who died of SIDS, my 15 year old cousin who drowned, my 8 year old niece who died from a chromosomal disorder. Those were the ones that I still get find myself wondering just what was God thinking?

When someone dies of old age we seem to mourn in a different way. It is almost as if the long lived life calms the grief of what is expected. But when someone dies before we think they should, mourning is filled with trying to make some sense of it all. We feel angry and cheated.

Within the last several months, death has faced many of my dear friends. My sweet friend who lost her twins, another friend whose husband died at 35, and another friend whose son was recently killed in Afghanistan. IT IS NOT FAIR!

It is hard to even name the emotions that surface and let them go. I do not believe that time heals these wounds. We adapt and learn to live in the what is now, but we are forever changed.

For some this change rest inside and is a silent reminder. For others though this change sparks them to a more passionate life. Spurring them to reach out to others, try new things, or do something they always wanted to do sooner than later.

I believe in a God that understands my grief. Who someday will allow us to see just what he was thinking. Who shares in my sorrows and does not waver in his love when I question.

What I understand more and more though is today is truly a gift.

Many wake up each morning to a masterpiece in the sky but rarely stop to appreciate it. The birds sing all day long while other music drowns out their beautiful natural melodies. We sit behind a computer inside missing out on the sun kisses that await us. We make promises to others for another day because we are too busy. It rains and we use an umbrella instead of dancing in the rain.

A whole world we rarely stop to see and enjoy.

There is nothing that can ever take away the grief. I choose though to consciously stop and appreciate more, be more aware of things around me, find the joy of each day, because there are just too many who were not gifted this day.