Adventures in Caregiving - This Has Never Happened Before

So here I am, writing after several months away. But today was a day. And all before 11am.

Morning sky 2/4/2026 

The morning started out like it normally does. I got up, got dressed, took Sparkle out, grabbed the photo above, spent some time with a glass of juice and posted my #photoaday entry, then booted up my laptop for work. After working for a bit, I got Dad up and everything seemed fine. I took some garbage and recycling out, came back in and took Sparkle out. All usual.

While I was out with Sparkle, I heard sounds like Dad was eating his breakfast. Which would also be normal. Sometimes he eats everything right away. Sometimes it takes him a bit, but he has a few bites, then reads something, then eats a few bites more, and so on. Sparkle does her thing and then comes in fairly quickly - which is again normal for her time out after I've gotten Dad up and settled.

I walk into the kitchen and the first thing I see is that Dad's breakfast bowl is empty. Which, I originally thought meant he must have been hungry so he ate all his breakfast. However, upon closer inspection, his oatmeal was all over the kitchen table. And, it hadn't really had time to set so it was thick, so it was basically like water and oats all over the kitchen table. And not only was the oatmeal all over the table. But he had also dumped his coffee all over the table.

He hasn't been the neatest eater since everything happened to him health-wise. But it's usually something small dropped on his lap that either I clean up or Sparkle gets. Sometimes it's something on his hands. Or a small bit on the table around him. But never his entire breakfast and coffee all over the table.

Grace, which I have adopted as my word this year, was hard to come by.  

So I move Dad away from the table. I grab a roll of paper towels and some gloves. And I get to cleaning up the mess. Removing our nice cloth bird place mats that Mom must have bought years ago and put them away somewhere so we never used them, rinsing them off, and then putting them somewhere out of the way to dry off. Wiping away all the oatmeal. Drying off the table. And washing the table down so it didn't smell like blueberries and cream oatmeal and coffee. Dad gets moved back to the table. I reheat him some coffee. And I make him a new bowl of oatmeal. Then I sit with him at the table. He takes a spoonful of oatmeal and goes to put it on the table.

Now I know how his oatmeal and coffee wound up all over the table.

I redirect Dad to eat the oatmeal, and if it was too warm, to blow on it before putting it in his mouth. Which he does. And he eats his breakfast with no other incidents. To make sure he drinks his coffee or the very least doesn't dump it all over the table, I stay and do the dishes while keeping an eye on what he is doing.

The adventures of caregiving keeps on giving. 

Friday Feelings - Why is Year 2 Harder?

When Mother's Day hit in May, it seemed both my sister and I struggled with the loss of Mom more than we had the previous year...when it was our first Mother's Day without her. We both said we didn't understand why the second year was harder than the first.

Months have gone by - other celebrations...Dad's birthday. Memorial Day. Fourth of July. My birthday. And now we are at Halloween. And I am so, so sad.

Vacating storm clouds 10/30/25

 

I don't understand why. I didn't get to participate in the Halloween celebrations at work this year, but I didn't get to last year either. I did dress up last year but I'm just not feeling it this year. We got candy for the house and as usual I'll be the one handing it out. I've done it for years...last year because I'm the only one who could and years before it was just easier than mom having to move around to do it. So that's nothing new.

But it seems I am really having a problem with Halloween this year. It is making me so sad.

I'm seeing memories of past years when I did dress up - either for work or for the church's Trunk or Treat. And when I would pick up Chinese food for dinner because it was easy to grab before the Trick or Treaters started showing up at the house.  And it all makes me so sad. So sad that this year, the first time in so many years, I'm just making stuff at home for dinner for Dad and I because I don't want Chinese food.

I don't get it. Why is year 2 so much harder than year 1? And why am I sitting here trying to type this up through tears? I mean, it's only Halloween! Growing up Halloween was fun - but it wasn't like what you would think of as a family holiday like Thanksgiving or Christmas. 

I wish I had the answer because I'd be telling myself what the answer is so I'd stop crying! 

The Last Time

 A year ago today was the last time I saw my mother alive.

It was Tuesday of Holy Week. I did what I normally did on a day I went to see Mom. I stopped working a bit early, then drove to the facility where she was, spent time with her, and then left. Our pastor was doing evening meditative services Monday through Wednesday, so after spending time with mom, I headed to the service. 

When I saw Mom, I knew things were not going well. Though she had been getting weak, I could at least get her to drink something while I was with her. And I wound up getting there when they served her dinner, so sometimes I could get her to eat a bite or two of what she was brought. Or, again, get her to drink the juice they would bring with her meal.

But Mom didn't want to drink. She didn't really want to see any photos from home that I would normally show her. She just laid there, asleep, not complaining about pain or anything else. So I stayed with her in silence for awhile, until I had to leave to get to the service I wanted to attend.

I knew the end was coming. And during the meditative service I found myself not only weeping knowing what we were coming closer and closer to in thinking about Jesus' life but also that my Mother's life was coming to an end.

But what I dwell on the most are the last words I said to her.

I always told her I loved her when I left and always gave her a kiss on her head. Which is what I did when she was home and I went to bed. But I also always said when I would see her again. For Mom, I usually saw her Tuesdays and Fridays. So I would go, "I love you Mom. I will see you on Friday!" or "I love you Mom. I will see you on Tuesday!" But this time - because it was Holy Week, I wasn't sure when I would get back up to see her.

So, instead I said, "I love you Mom. I'll see you soon."

I regret that a lot. I regret not being able to figure out when I would be able to see her again so I could tell her that. I regret not saying more. Maybe because now I know that was going to be the last time I saw her alive I wish I had said more.

I wish I had thought to thank her for being such a great mother, despite the times we had our differences.

I wish I had thought to thank her for only thinking it a little crazy traveling places to see large organs and famous organists.

I wish I had thought to thank her for pushing me to do the things I wanted to do and for doing what she could to help give me time to finish assignments or have meetings even if it meant I wasn't home or locked myself in my room, much to the chagrin of Sparkle who would bark and cry at my closed door.

I wish I had thought to thank her for encouraging me to take over cooking the large meals at holidays, including making her famous mustard pineapple sauce. And for having me learn to make her Toll House Cookies.

I wish I had thought to thank her for a lot of things and not waited until it was too late.

Good Bye 2024

 

12/31/24

To say 2024 was a year I don’t want to repeat would be an understatement. 

It all started a year ago when I fought and struggled to get Mom to get off the couch and to the bathroom. She kept thinking she had gone. And kept saying she needed to rest before getting up. And she just couldn’t stand up. She promised me after we had dinner that she would. Jessica and I had a whole text conversation about it.  It was the beginning of the 3 month end. 

I’ve dealt with a lot since then. Some days are a bigger struggle than others. But through it all, I know God is watching over me. 

Yes, there has been a lot of sadness and pain, both physical and emotional. But there have been some positives amid all that. 

I celebrated 25 years of full-time employment at Marist. I started a certification program in worship leadership. I found joy and solace in singing. I returned to Annual Conference. I went to Cape Cod, New York Comic Con, and Lancaster County. I adjusted to working from home while caring for Dad. And I adjusted to sleeping with Sparkle, who sometimes likes to hog up my bed.

I learned about family and friends and friends who are like family. And I valued all those relationships because they are the ones who got me through this year. And that will help me get through 2025. 

I argued in my head for a while whether or not to do our usual New Year’s dinner. Because it was the last real meal Mom ate (and enjoyed!). And I wasn’t sure I could do it. But tomorrow I will be making our usual meal. I’ll have a friend over to share in the meal with Dad, Jessica, Alex, and possibly Anastasia. And start to make new memories to help ease the pain of the old ones. 

Have a Happy New Year!

Monday Musing - Apple Cider Donuts

A few weeks ago Adams started selling their apple cider donuts in the front of their stores. They are also in the store in the bakery area but there's nothing like the smell of the donuts as you walk in and out of the store.

Bought in mid-September 2024

Now, I don't really like apple cider donuts - no matter where they are from. But there are other people in the house who do like them.

But here's the thing...when the apple cider donuts started getting advertised in the weekly flyer from Adam's, it was Mom's request every week after church that either Jessica or I stop at Adam's to pick up a pack of apple cider donuts for her before bed snack every week.

It was hard buying that first pack of donuts in mid-September. Because of the memory of buying them on a weekly basis for Mom.

But now I seem to be making new memories of why I'm buying the donuts.

Dad likes them as a change of pace for breakfast. Anastasia likes having one every once and awhile (because she prefers the Adam's apple cider donuts over other places). And Alex likes to have one too.

Mom's been gone for 6 months now. A whole half a year. And she was in the hospital and rehab for almost 3 months before that. Sometimes it feels like so long ago as we have kind of come to a new way of things in the house and we seem to have gotten used to not having her at home. But sometimes it still feels so new and I feel like when I come into the house after running out for something that she should still be sitting or laying on the couch when I come home. 

I used to only have to buy one package of donuts per week because Mom would have one a night for 6 nights and that was enough. But now I buy two because they are very popular in the house. So while I still have that memory of buying donuts for Mom on weekly basis I'm creating new memories of buying more donuts for Dad, and Alex, and Anastasia.

And I hope that's okay.

Monday Musing - The Service that was Hard

Yesterday I did something that I have done many times before, I led a worship service at church. But this one was harder than others.

My wireless mic of choice - a Wappingers Memory

I struggled a lot with coming up with a focus for the sermon, even though I had so much material to read and draw from. If you were there in person or watch the video back, I freely admitted this. I thought that maybe in all the reading I was just hit with a bit of writers block, which can happen to anyone.

But there was something else at the source of all this.

Turns out I was having another "I miss my Mom" moments.

My mom has heard or seen almost all of the services I have led - whether she was there in person or watched it live online or watched it later via YouTube. And the last couple years, even if she didn't see it or hear it or feel like watching it, she always knew when I was leading a service and would always ask me as soon as I came home and she was awake, "How did it go?"

I knew Mom wasn't going to be home on the couch waiting to ask me "How did it go?" And I guess in the back of my mind I was trying to avoid the inevitable. That I wasn't going to hear that and be able to answer that.

Yesterday was a hard one. Especially because it was also a year ago that I drove Mom home from her last vacation to Cape Cod. But hopefully that means the next one, whenever it is, will be a little easier.

Tuesday Thoughts - Another Thing I Miss

I am going to be 48 next month. And at least through December of this year, there was something I had to do otherwise I would fear the wrath of Mom. And that was call her at certain times.

Mom's Entry in my Phone

There were times I stayed late at work - sometimes it was because something was going on at work and I had to be there. Sometimes it was to attend an online meeting because it was quieter than trying to be at the same meeting at home. Before I left campus, I had to call home to let Mom know I was coming home.

There were times I headed down to White Plains for Conference meetings. Usually by the time I got there I only had time for a quick text to my sister, asking her to relay the message that I got to my destination okay. But when that wasn't possible, there were quick calls home to let Mom know I was there okay. And there were always calls once I got on the highway to let her know I was on my way home.

When I returned to choir or was at church for a meeting, there was always a call when I was on my way home.

Oh, and when I returned home from 1-day treks to Cape Cod to help Mom get herself up there or drive her and Dad around to places that they couldn't find, there was a call once I got home to let Mom know I made it home okay.

This went on until she was admitted in the hospital in January.

I don't know if it seemed weird to me because I lived in the house with her or what. But for years I found it slightly annoying. 

Until late last week. When it hit me that all Mom was doing was showing that she cared about me.

And I found I really missed being able to call her to let her know I was somewhere or that I was headed home. Not that I'm able to get out as much as I used to. 

The rest of my family cares about me - but there was just something different about the connection we had when I made those calls. 

I miss that caring.

I miss my Mom.

Tuesday Thoughts - Smooshy Sleeping Sparkle

 

Good Morning Sparkle (7/9/2024)

From the moment she came home with us, Sparkle has slept in a crate. Say what you want about crate training, it has worked well for us. And, over the past few years having to call 911 more times than I care to admit, having the crate for Sparkle to stay in when EMTs arrive (what we are told to do with the dog when they are on the way) has been helpful.

For the first several months at our home, I did have to lie by the crate to get Sparkle to go to sleep. But eventually I just had to sit by the crate. And then sit somewhere in sight of Sparkle, and then somewhere on the couch. Once she seems asleep (she has a few different positions that indicate this) I go to my room and go to bed.

Well lately we have continued our routine. And then one of three things happens:

1) Sparkle sleeps through the night in her crate like she always has. (This is becoming a less rare thing.)

2) I get ready for bed, turn out my light, lay down, and Sparkle wakes up and cries quietly.

3) I get ready for bed, turn out my light, lay down, watch videos for a bit, roll over and go to sleep for half an hour then get woken up by a YELP from Sparkle.

When 2 or 3 happens, I've learned now it isn't because she has to go out but because for whatever reason she thinks she needs to sleep with me. Which is quite the adjustment with a single-sized bed. And a dog that likes to stretch sometimes.

I'm not sure why all of a sudden she has this need to sleep with me.

Some nights I understand it. Because some nights I have struggled to sleep and at least her being near me has helped calm me down. Some nights I get sad and knowing she is there helps a little and keeps me from crying. Some nights I am just so frustrated with things and though I don't ever show it, I guess somehow she senses it.

But most nights - I just don't know what is going on.

Sure I can't take up my entire bed when I sleep when she is there. And sometimes I scare her awake if I have a nightmare and I start yelling in my sleep. But I can't be mad at her.  Because when I wake she is either sprawled on my feet like a pillow. Or she is laying next to me looking at me. Or she is along my side so when I sit up she sees me. And I guess in her mind, somewhere, it makes sense for her to be with me. Even though sometimes I can't for the life of me figure out why.

A Tuesday Tribute - My Mom

 

    I wrote the below and shared it on Saturday at Mom's Memorial Service. And I just wanted to share it here.

Mom on 12/8/2007

             How do you summarize and share a few poignant memories of someone you have known literally your whole life? And what memories do you share? Do you share monumental memories or funny ones? Or a mix of both? Usually when I write things down to speak them, things are very organized and I know how I want to get from Point A to Point B to Point C.

            But my thoughts are all jumbled up, and even though this is typed out and I’m reading it from paper which I haven’t done in a long time, it still may come out jumbled.

            I miss my Mom.

            Growing up I always thought Mom was super strict. Or at the very least, she seemed stricter than the parents of my friends. So, one of the things I did not long after graduating college and getting my first full-time job was move out. You hear parents talk about this all the time – wanting their children to get through school and college and then get a job and move out because that is what you are “supposed to do.” No one in my family was a fan of my plan to move out – probably because there was other stuff behind it. But I did it anyway. It was during that time away that I found I grew closer to Mom – because even though I didn’t live at home, I talked to her every day on the phone. And a few years later circumstances changed, and I found myself needing to move back home. Mom never berated me for leaving and then having to come back. She never said, “I told you so!” And she never made me feel bad – even though I’m always in my own head and I made myself feel bad and I berated myself. But not Mom. We made plans to move me back home. And after all my stuff was moved into my room, and all the big furniture arranged just right, and my friends who had come to help me left – I stood in my room surrounded by boxes and garbage bags filled with stuff (because I ran out of boxes and all I had at my disposal was garbage bags) so overwhelmed with my seeming failure and all this stuff and I just started to cry. Mom came down the hall and asked what was wrong and I just wailed I was so overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do. She told me simply, “Just start with one bag at a time.”

            So, in that spirit, I will start with one thought at a time.

            Though Mom could be considered strict, she also did what she could to ensure that Jessica and I both had the experiences we wanted to have. What sticks out clearly is my senior year in high school when I thought I had to choose between going on the senior class trip to Disney World or competing with Wind Ensemble and Chamber Choir in Virginia Beach. And I remember saying something to Mom at one point about struggling to decide which trip I wanted to go on – and she told me I didn’t have to choose – she would find a way that I could do both. And I did.

            They say that parents really shouldn’t try to be their child’s friend when they are growing up – because children need to know their parents are their parents. But as time goes on, you find that parents do become like friends. You can share your day with them. You can cry with them. You can share your frustrations with them and your crushes with them. And they keep it all to themselves, just like a friend would. And I am glad to say that I had that relationship with my mom.

            Sometimes she didn’t understand why I did things I did. She didn’t understand why I kept going back for Master’s Degree after Master’s Degree. But she was at every graduation ceremony, even the 2020 ceremony that was held in 2022 on probably the worst weather day you could have imagined where we all looked like we got out of the shower by the time we got to Olive Garden to have a celebratory meal. She also didn’t understand why I’d drive 3 hours to see giant organs. But she did enjoy the pictures I’d show her afterwards, and part of me hopes maybe that helped her understand the why.

            Mom and I went through crafting phases, spending weekends together on the couch. She would do her counted cross-stitching work and I would do whatever my craft of the time was – latch hook rugs, knitting, and eventually crocheting. First, we would watch football, college on Saturdays and the NFL on Sundays. The last many years, we were on one of two Hallmark Channels watching mysteries or Christmas movies.

In between that, Mom turned to old episodes of NCIS that aired on USA. It always seemed to be on, and for awhile we watched and re-watched episodes as they repeated. I miss the NCIS theme. See, some people in my phone have personalized ringtones made from music I personally owned in one way or another. Mom’s was the NCIS theme. It has to be at least 6 months since I last heard it. Because most of the time she called, I was at work so my phone was on silent. And in her last months – well, there were issues with the cell phone. Sometimes it was stressful when I knew she was calling. I’d see an old photo of our previous dog, Harmi pop up and when I would say hello, she would say, “Everything’s okay!” because there had been times when things weren’t okay and she was concerned about something or she didn’t know where someone was.

I miss the NCIS theme. I miss my Mom.

Last year Mom was bound and determined to go to Cape Cod, as she had for years and years. However, after the trip in 2022 when I led her to the area so she wouldn’t get lost – and it took double the amount of time to get there because she wouldn’t go over 45 miles an hour – I told her the only way she could go is if I drove her. And if we only went for a week. It also, unfortunately, meant Dad couldn’t go. Not because we wouldn’t be able to fit a 3^rd passenger on the way there. But Mom’s plan is always to come back with at least 100 pounds of seed from the Birdwatcher’s General Store, her favorite place in the world so at that point, there wouldn’t be enough room to fit a 3^rd passenger. And so, Mom’s last trip to Cape Cod was with me. Where we went to the Birdwatcher’s General Store every day and she sat in the front of the store on a chair and talked with everyone there. And brought in quite a bit of business – so it seemed. She earned an invitation to the Christmas Party for that. I had to earn mine by putting shirts away at the front of the store. I walked to Cooke’s Seafood every night to order and bring back our dinner – which wasn’t seafood. Mom always had a cheeseburger and fries and my meal varied. Also I highly recommend the Oreo milkshake if you’re ever there. But we did many of the things that she would do every year. And when we went to drive home on the last day, I thanked her for the vacation and she asked me “Did you get to do what you wanted to do? Did you have fun?” I told her I did.

I miss my Mom.

There are so many stories I could share. And so many things pop up that remind me of Mom. Every year I buy one of those page-a-day calendars for my desk at work. Last year I bought one called “Thoughts of Dog.” So many of the days what the dog had to say immediately reminded me of Sparkle. I’d take a picture of the entry and then read it to Mom. I miss sharing those with her. A few weeks ago Pastor Kregg in one of his sermons referenced the introduction to Mysteries shown on PBC, like Hercule Poirot movies, which was also something I watched with Mom. And one day I decided I was going to over-exaggerate the woman who wails with probably my worst operatic imitation ever. But it made Mom laugh. Which made me laugh. And when Pastor Kregg made that reference, I was immediately brought back to that time and it made me smile. Every time I see a bird, I remember Mom. And when my dog Sparkle chases a bird, I call after her, “Leave the birds alone! Mom would be so mad!” Not sure Sparkle hears me, but the birds make sure they fly away very quickly.

I thought about Mom a lot last weekend when I went to Annual Conference, since she had come for several years with me. And there were times of memorial during our laity session as well as a memorial service during the day on Saturday. When words spoken and sung just hit me so hard I couldn’t stop crying. You know you feel totally comfortable around your pastor when you just start crying while they are sitting next to you.

I know over time things will get a little easier. While things will still remind me of Mom, I won’t want to cry so much or hold back tears so much. And yes, I do know she is watching over me and I hope she remains proud of me and is okay with everything I am doing. I know she is no longer in any pain and is no longer sick – she has been completely healed and is with God.

I would be remiss if I didn’t express my gratitude for many things. I’m grateful for the love she showed me every day, even when I made choices she didn’t agree with or if we had a yelling match. I’m grateful for the time I had with her. I’m grateful she got to go on one last vacation to Cape Cod and enjoy herself. I’m grateful she was able to come to church here a few times to experience services where I was doing something or Jessica was doing something or Anastasia was doing something. By the way Anastasia, even though I know you and Grammy had your differences she loved you so much and was so proud of you for everything you did! I’m grateful she was able to meet some of the people here at PUMC who have impacted my life. I'm grateful I was able to pray with her while she was at The Grand. I’m grateful she was able to be prayed over and anointed by Pastor Kregg. I’m grateful that Mom was my Mom. To quote Young Sheldon, “There are 5 billion people on this planet, and you’re the perfect mom for me. What are the odds of that?” She was the perfect wife for Dad, the perfect Grammy for Anastasia, and the perfect Mom for Jessica, Alex, and I.

But I miss my Mom.

 

Monday Musing - Be Still

 

Easter Sunrise Service Bird - 2024

For several weeks I've been writing and rewriting a blog entry because I know it has been forever and a day that I have posted something. In fact, when I mentioned something the other day, my sister even commented it had been awhile since she saw something. I've been wanting to write about my mother in some way, but found it hard. And didn't want to make everyone cry with what I wrote, myself included. I'm having a tough enough time writing what I will be saying at her memorial service.

But last week I had the opportunity to write a 5 minute devotion. The New York Annual Conference Board of Laity hosts 6 weeks of morning time with God through a devotion, reading, music - whatever the person in charge of the day chooses. And I was asked to share this year on behalf of my district. I wrote something - which I read to one other person who was on the call. So I figured, you know what, I'll share this!

So with that said....

Psalm 46:10a (NRSV): "Be still, and know that I am God!"

The theme for General Conference and our own Annual Conference this year is “…And Know that I am God” which is the tail end of the first sentence of Psalm 46 verse 10. But I wanted to spend some time on the first two words of that sentence, because we may not take it into consideration sometimes.  “Be still.”

We are so busy, even when we try not to be busy, we are so busy. A month ago, I took a week off after my mother passed away. My plan was to take care of myself. To just sit. To reflect on my mother. To rest. To be in prayer. To be around for my family. To “be still.”

But instead, my sister and I met with the funeral home. I met with people from my congregation to start planning a Children’s Day service. I waited for the funeral home to call saying my mother’s remains were ready. That went on for two days. I went into work to take some scheduled photos. I went to church to lead a Church Council meeting. One day I went to church twice, once to plan my mother’s memorial service and then again later in the day to prepare our chancel area for our choir and to attend choir rehearsals. Plus, I still got up every morning like I was going to work so that I could get my father with Alzheimer's ready for the day with an aide who stays with him. And I had my dog constantly wanting attention because I was home and available to her. There was nothing about “being still” in all that.            

There is so much that clamors for our attention each day that no matter what we do to try to “be still” we can’t just “be still.” We check our phones to see if we have an email. And we may say that we will reply later if we see something that catches our attention, but thinking of the response or thinking about the email waiting to be replied to occupies your brain. I have a terrible habit that when I am trying to read something I break up the reading by playing a game on my phone or checking to see if there are any more cute dog or cat reels on Facebook. And forget about finding a place where you may say you will spend time in prayer or quiet contemplation so you can listen for God’s voice. I do it all the time. A nice quiet place communing with nature that God created – the perfect environment to sit and “be still.” Yet there I am dragging my phone out to take a photo or a video or to share said photos/videos with a friend.

As I write this, I’m working on a laptop with a sticker that I have put there that says, “Be still and know that I am God” yet I still struggle with being still, even with the daily reminder right in front of my face and literally at my fingertips. Being still is hard. And I’m sure there are some people out there in the world who have it figured out. Maybe someone listening here is able to find those moments to “be still.”

But maybe, just maybe, with God’s help we will be able to find those moments to “be still and know that I am God.”

Monday Musing - It Finally Happened!

Now, don't get too excited. It's probably a more exciting thing just for me and not anyone else.

If you have talked to me at all about how I got involved in things at PUMC post-pandemic, you will know that Laity Sunday 2020 I was looking forward to sitting in the congregation and enjoying other people doing stuff for the service and having it not be me. I never got that moment in 2020. Or 2021. Or 2022.

However, after 12 years of participating in some way (9 of those years essentially running the service) in a Laity Sunday service, I finally got that opportunity to do what I normally do in a service, but not do anything extra.

Don't get me wrong - leading or participating in a Laity Sunday service was never a burden. It was never an imposition. I enjoyed being able to share in what the people of the church have done and can do. But sometimes, you want to be able to see someone else's vision of what being the laity in a church is. And learn from it. Which is what I got to do yesterday.

I got to hear a perspective that I was familiar with and some of which I have been working with - that of our Sunday School and youth/young people. But it is important, from time to time, to be reminded that those are the people we need to ensure that they realize they too are part of the laity. Laity isn't just for adults. Or people who have done classes. Or who are in Adult Sunday School. Or who are in committees or run committees or have particular roles within the church.  I haven't really experienced it at PUMC, but there have been some places where it is encouraged to have the children seen from time to time, but never heard or hardly heard. If they make too much noise, they aren't welcome. If they wiggle around during the sermon, they're not welcome. But the children, the young people, the youth, the teenagers, and anyone above all that - they are welcome. There are things that they can do - not because it is "assigned" to them because of their age but because it is a mission and they are certainly all part of the mission field.

Random sun photo from 11/12/2023

Monday Musing - Seeing Differently

Saturday I picked up my new glasses.

Me on Sunday (11/5) with my new glasses

They have transition lenses, so I don't have to have a separate pair of sunglasses. And they are progressives, to help me with reading. A couple years ago when I got my last pair of glasses, I was told I could get progressive lenses but it wasn't necessary. Because I wanted to wear contacts as well, I opted for no progressives. And soon found that when I wore my contacts, I needed a pair of glasses (aka "cheaters" or "readers") in order to see my phone. And eventually, if my phone wasn't far enough away, I'd have to take my glasses off to see some things better. I got tired of that so figured it was about time to not worry so much about the contacts (which I wound up hardly wearing) and get the right pair of glasses to make my life a bit easier.

I adjusted to the new glasses pretty easily. It was great being able to see what I needed to on my phone without having to take my glasses off. Or not have my eyes take time to adjust to seeing things from one distance to another - which happened a lot when I would go from my phone to reading a book. I got pretty good at determining where I should look at things through the top of my glasses for distance and where it was best to look out of the lower part for reading.

Until I got to singing with choir in the sanctuary.

I struggled a bit trying to find just the right place for my binder where I could see the music clearly and where I could see the director clearly. It was a lot of moving my hand around back and forth and up and down until I got it just right - while we were singing. I'm lucky I didn't get lost!

It was a very different way for me to see - a way I hadn't encountered before, at least for a long time.

And all this got me to thinking how we can all see things differently. Or how we experience things differently.

This happens a lot with scripture. The scripture reading during church yesterday was the same scripture we reflected on in our contemplative worship service earlier in the morning. I struggled with where to go with it and jotted some thoughts and notes to myself about how I was struggling and how parts didn't really make sense to me. But then our pastor preached on it, coming from a very different angle, and things started to fall into place. Even when we in the early morning service share our thoughts, where I wind up isn't the same place where others wind up. It is never wrong. It is just different.

We see things differently. And that is a great thing.

Friday Feelings - What Memories Come Back

A Campus View 10/2023

No, the photo has nothing to do with the post. But it's a nice one, isn't it?

I often share the story of how I got into Chamber Choir in high school. This was the audition-only singing group that met after school once a week, who also did a competition on a yearly basis, typically in Virginia Beach along with the Concert Band (general band) and Wind Ensemble (audition-only band). I was in my junior year and could finally fit Chorus, every other day, into my busy schedule. We were in between rehearsing songs and as we were starting to prep for the next song, I was making a joke to a friend next to me and the chorus director asked if I would come down and sit next to her on the piano bench while we started the song.

Well, in my head I'm thinking I was in trouble and now had to sit next to the teacher while we sang because I was joking with a friend! We sang the first few lines of the song (Save the Child from Paul McCartney's Liverpool Oratorio if you must know) and then the chorus director stopped and asked if I would be willing to join the Chamber Choir. And there it was.

Fast forward a bunch of years. And I'm now in church choir. And our director is none other than my chorus director from high school. So, first, how awesome is that?

Well, do you know what happened last night?

During one of the songs we were rehearsing, our choir director comes and stands next to me while I am singing.

And every feeling and memory from that time sitting next to her on the piano bench back in high school came flying and flooding back into my head! The fear. The nerves. The hope I was doing it right because she was right next to me and would be able to tell me that I was singing it very wrong!

We remember things a lot of the time. Like when someone says something that jogs our memory. Or we are talking about how things were for us when we were in high school, college, our first job, etc. Or when sharing a connection to someone with others. I am very proud of the fact that I have known our choir director since I was in high school - she was one of the teachers that made high school tolerable! And I do like to share with others that connection.

But sometimes those memories just come back like a ton of bricks. They slam you out of nowhere. Not that it was a bad memory to do that. It just surprises you.

Monday Musing - Struggling with the "No"

About a month ago I said while sharing a post from The Single Woman that I had prayed to accept God's answer of "No" when it came to finding someone to love.

And I have been trying to accept it.

A view from Long Dock Park 7/30/2023

But when you pass a view like this a couple things become very hard.  First, it is hard to not stop and admire it and take a photo of it. Second, it is hard to stand there and not just want to share the view with someone but share it while holding someone's hand and just taking it in. Or if you are lucky to find a view with a good fallen tree or rock to sit on, to sit there with someone.

So instead I stand there in the view, and I feel the breeze, and drink some water, and I take the photo and continue on my walk. Or jog. Because yes, I did jog a bit yesterday too.

And I struggle because I thought I was working towards accepting "No." But it seems I am fighting that answer.

I don't like fighting God on things because I know I will never win. This is a tough one though. But I'm guessing since I'll be 47 in 4 weeks it is probably about time I face this fact.

It doesn't mean though I can't write about the struggle though!

Merging is an Ongoing Journey - Another New Appointment

Not really something one should say, but I have gotten really good at adjusting to new pastors in the United Methodist Church. In mid-2018 I said goodbye to one pastor and welcomed another, then again in mid-2019, and then again in 2020 (though that wasn't by appointment, but rather merger), and finally yet again now in 2023.

This is the way of the Methodist Church, and having been a member of one for way more than half my life, I get it and understand it, and though it is hard sometimes, I accept it.

I don't want this post to take away from my posts of appreciation I made last week. But I do think it is important to also celebrate this new time in our church.

The slide welcoming our new pastor (7/2/2023)

So, you know what?

It was a good service. It really was. We were able to continue with our contemplative service, which was great. And also gave me a bit of time before everyone started showing up to talk with our new pastor, Pastor Kregg.

Were there things that were a struggle? Sure. But isn't that the way it always goes, not just with a new appointment but even when one makes a change in how a service was done. When PUMC had to navigate COVID, there were changes in how worship was done. And when we started to gather again, more changes. And in trying to decide how best to do both in-person services and live-streamed services there were more changes. It all works out - because God is at the center of it all.

When a new pastor comes in, at least for me, it is always hard when I get the question, "How is this done during service?" I hate to respond, "Well, this is done this way and that is done that way" because each pastor is different. Not that they are going to come into a new congregation and immediately change everything so it is a completely different service. But at the same time, I want to give them the assurance that whatever they decide or however they decide to do something, it is okay and I'm there to support them.

And so I look forward to the new things I will learn from our newly appointed pastor. And hope that I can continue to share my gifts with the new pastor and his family, as I have for previous pastors.

Wednesday's Writing - Crystal

Sometimes when you have a pastor and they are married, you get to know their spouse in some way. Sometimes not. Sometimes you get to know them better than others. Sometimes not. In my time in the Methodist church, I've experienced pastors with spouses in a variety of ways. A couple times I got to know the spouses pretty well. This was one of those times.

Crystal & I (6/27/23)

Crystal is Pastor Jody's wife. And, because of how strangely my time at PUMC began, in the midst of COVID, it actually took a bit before I figured out who Crystal was. In the early days of live streaming service, she was there, running the computer so it wasn't Pastor Jody, by himself, running things.

But what I remember most about my real first encounter with Crystal, was how welcomed she made me feel as part of a church family.

Christmas Eve 2020 was not the service type everyone hoped for, of course. (Nor was Christmas Eve 2021 for that matter.) We had three services at church that day. The first was a morning service outside, so people could gather. The last was a 10pm service, again where people could gather outside. But the middle service was a 6pm service that was strictly online. The only people in the building for the service were Pastor Jody, Crystal, our organist Stephen, and two of us to provide singing support - Sue and myself. 

After the service, it was almost like no one wanted to leave right away so everyone was kind of standing in front of the Communion Table talking. I was off to one side, kind of listening and kind of trying to decide if I should just say "Merry Christmas" to everyone and leave. Then Crystal invited me to come closer and join the discussion.

At this point in my life in the church I had just started to get involved in some things. But I wasn't really entrenched like I am now. So it meant a lot to me that she asked me to be part of the discussion among people who had already known each other for over a year.

Since then, it seems like whenever Crystal was around, we wound up finding our way to each other to at least say "Hi" and to see how the other was doing. We seem to have the same type of personality, which may be why we got along so well.

I did also get to work with Crystal in a ministry capacity, as for the past 6 months she was co-chair of our Worship committee, which I am a member of. While it didn't mean a lot of meetings, it did mean getting together sometimes to make the church look nice, especially for Advent and Christmas and then taking it all apart once the season was done.

Sometimes, which is unfortunate, when a pastor has a spouse, they just become known as "the pastor's wife/husband" and that's it. Pastor Jody talked sometimes about how sometimes he is never seen as "Jody" just as a pastor, when he is is own person. And sometimes I feel pastor's spouses can fall into that category too.

But not Crystal. She established herself not just as part of the pastor's family but someone who supported various ministries in the church. And she didn't do that because she was asked to by the pastor or because she felt it was her "job" - but because they truly meant something to her and she wanted those ministries to succeed. She made others feel welcome in a congregation. PUMC is one of the larger congregations that I have been a part of. And she made everyone feel like they were an important member of the congregation. Not just someone who was part of a huge group. But that they were an individual and part of an intimate group.

For someone who always struggled to feel like they belong, Crystal made me feel welcome. And what I think is even more impactful is that I learned from her how to make others feel welcome. And what is truly important in this world. And how to just in general be a better person.

I am so glad that even though it was for a short amount of time, that Crystal was such an important person in my life. As I continue to be thankful for Pastor Jody I am also so thankful for what Crystal has meant to me. I am so glad that God placed her in my life.