Monthly Archives: October 2012

Oct31

Twenty Five Summers

Posted on October 31, 2012 by Karen Valentine

That relentless Oklahoma City wind brought a dark cold cloud last week. Those who refer to Chicago as the windy city sure never spent a winter here! This time of year I begin to feel a familiar feeling of dread and an overwhelming desire to flee the bitter weather that is inching toward me. As I drive through my neighborhood I see golden leaves shimmer in the sunlight and know the next couple days will turn them to shriveled brown memories. A chill comes over me that generally does not cease till spring. I am not a fan of winter. In fact, winter scares me a bit. I spent the first eight years of my life in South Dakota and I know how frigid air can change your life or end it. As soon as the cold hits I undergo a transformation. I feel an ache in every part of my body, I become stiff, my muscles grow tight, I become grumpy, and poof- I am Estelle Getty complete with attitude. Summer on the other hand makes me come alive! I can walk in the park at eight o’clock at night, open the door early in the morning and not get chilled, enjoy an extra range of motion in my limbs and sit on the patio and read-just a few of the things I will not be able to do soon.

I was thinking of summer today and how few I may have left, maybe just 20 to 25. That gets your attention doesn’t it? More and more I feel such a sense of urgency about my life. I don’t want to waste the time I have left on lower things that steal my time, my energy, my peace, and my clarity of thought. I worked for a publishing house in the 1980’s and had the summers off. I used to turn the television off all summer, do volunteer work, read, write and walk. I could do without most of the television programs shown now. I don’t want to fill my head and distract my spirit with vulgar mindless prattle. The same goes for loud talking people who rattle on incessantly (regardless of what they are rattling about). I also have grown weary of those extra violent moves, and I never need to see another Transformer as long as I live. Is this how we are choosing to define our lives?

I do not think this is what God had in mind for us. That path leads to unsatisfied lives and fatigued souls. What God has in mind for us is to focus on higher things, fill our lives with books that teach and inspire, programs that both entertain and enlighten, and people who nurture their best selves and encourage us to do the same. The thing that actually matters most in this life people miss completely, doing the work of the soul. This is why we are here my friends.

I read everything I can get my hands on written by Sue Monk Kidd (author of “The Secret Life Of Bees”) who started out as a nurse and had the privilege of being present for the last moments of some of her patients’ lives. From reading her stories, their regrets were not of things they had done, but of things they had not done, of forgiving words not spoken, trips not taken, time not spent with children, and deeds not done for those in need. Marianne Williamson tells the story of a Jewish man named Arlan who dies and meets God. The man is afraid God will ask him why he was not Abraham or why he was not Joshua, but what God asked him was “Why were you not Arlan?” The strongest regret of all is for not living authentically, for not having the courage to express who we are.

Many of us fail to show ourselves, because at the end of the day we feel that cold winter wind come over us and hear that old “Not Good Enough” song playing. I’ve heard it, put it to bed and then felt it wake again. It happens to us all, but what we should remember is that we need to do absolutely nothing to be worthy. We simply are worthy just as we are and we are treasured by a loving God who sees us fully and is our biggest fan. The highest, strongest desires of our hearts are there because God placed them there and wants us to live them out. When we fall short, act like fools, cuss the dog, drop the ball at work, say hurtful things to loved ones, forget who we are, and hate ourselves for it; God is there with us and sad with us. Grace is a wonderful thing; it assures us that tomorrow we can count on God’s renewal to warm our cold tired bodies and assure our spirits that another summer is just around the corner.

Oct16

Sweaty Grace

Posted on October 16, 2012 by Karen Valentine

Sweaty Grace

As you walk into the sanctuary of St Augustine’s Episcopal Church, there is a quiet spot in front of a peaceful stained glass window where you can light a candle, kneel, and pray. Folks often kneel there and lift up concerns for loved ones. Today my prayer was for me. I found myself verbalizing my frustrations to God. Immediately I heard a suggestion. God does show up if you ask.

The incident reminded me of one of the first blogs I wrote, back in 2012. Below you may read how that day unfolded.

I am in labor. I’m soon to be sixty, but quite clearly in labor. I’ve been in labor for a couple of years; it is a long time to be in labor, and it does hurt like hell. I have grown weary of it. I can’t speak from experience when it comes to the labor of childbirth, but this labor of the psyche and spirit is protracted and frustrating!

Something in me is struggling to wake up, morph, and materialize. I want to season into a wise old woman who has earned a listening ear. This is why I began blogging, a burgeoning desire to share my observations, stories, depth of experience and spiritual journey. By sharing my own truths, my passions, my personal stories and what sustains me in dark times, perhaps the reader will find a thin little slice of hope.

The chapter has slammed shut on a wonderful career; my work life has wound down to an unfulfilling necessity. I find myself meditating on more substantial matters. How can I make the rest of my life “a proud statement rather than a sad apology. . .”? Abraham Verghese, Cutting for Stone.

There is no end to the little annoyances inherent in this labor process that feel distressing. I was in McDonald’s last week when I suffered a particularly jolting blow. I don’t eat at McDonald’s. But, I have no issue with buying a bottle of water, placing my ever spreading derriere in a booth and having my way with their Wi-Fi service.

I stepped to the counter to order my water and was greeted by a woman who looked old enough to be my grandmother. Did I mention that I am just this side of sixty? When I asked for a bottle of water, the woman replied, “I can get you a senior coffee for less than that.” There it was, the dreaded adjective, “senior.” I could hardly breathe. When I recounted this tale to my ever-the-smart-ass husband his reply was “Did you take her up on it?” Stupidamnshitty man.

Taking action is my antidote for the angst this labor process has fostered. So, I have been walking a great deal the past few months.

I was walking one hot morning in August; I know, a bit masochistic for late summer in Oklahoma City. I came upon a children’s race on the park trail. Only a few kids were finishing up as I walked along and I met a woman and her daughter of about seven on the trail. This child was not one of the kids on the trail with an athletic build and a spring in her step. She was a beautiful petite little blonde with braided hair, thin, and a bit fragile looking.

She was really struggling to finish the race and finally just stopped, defeated. Through sweaty tears I heard her cry “Momma, I just can’t do it!” I saw the fatigue on her tiny face and knew exactly how she felt. Earlier that morning I’d been that same crying child; I could not will my worn little body to function.

Tired through my soul with fatigue, three years of sleep deprivation, illness and foggy thinking I fell to my knees in pain and desperation, right on the living room floor. I cried out to God for help and heard my answer pretty clearly. “Get up off the stupid floor and walk, you’ll feel better!” I did it.

Oct7

60, Thick and Grateful

Posted on October 7, 2012 by Karen Valentine

60, Thick and Grateful

Exactly when did I become thick in the middle? I wasn’t thick six months ago; I was mushy in the middle but not thick. Mushy I understand; I’ll be 60 this month and for 22 of those years I’ve taken Prednisone for Lupus. And although I launched a hostile take-over to get my body back five months ago, I am a senior citizen, according to AARP at least. So, I have earned the mushy. I don’t necessarily think thick comes with age, but I have seen some changes in my friends the past few years. Come to think of it, most of them are thick! Up to now I have avoided thick, it is clearly not working for me. I suppose thick is just one more in that multitude of things I will add to the joys of turning 60.

In truth, there is much to be grateful for at this “senior” threshold. Most of my parts still function really well, I pass most folks walking the trail at the park. This is in part because I inherited my Dad’s long stilt-like legs which look fine on him but ill-proportioned on me. They do however enable me to make great time on the walking trail. And, in spite of living with Lupus, Fibromyalgia and a few more autoimmune conditions-I am out there. This is not a “walk in the park” for me. Well literally it is, but not so much figuratively. Walking is always painful, sometimes very painful. Just pick a joint, go ahead any of them, yep it hurts. Or pick a muscle, yep that hurts too. I don’t saunter along either; I walk as hard and as quickly as I can for the aerobic value. I am emmensly grateful that I can walk.

I am grateful for the years I had before I turned 38, before the pain started. So many people are diagnosed with painful conditions much earlier, many in childhood. They will never know what it is like to walk 20 miles a week with no pain, or ride horseback 16 miles and feel great when you stop. I also have work that provides a livelihood which is something at this age, discrimination is alive and well and I don’t take it for granted. I am in a loving marriage with someone I look forward to seeing and who still makes me laugh each day. And I do have world class friends; I’ve never seen a more engaged, intelligent, caring, resourceful and creative group. (most of them are thick)

A huge blessing in my life at 60 is that my parents are still on this earth. I am able to see them fairly often and hope I make a difference in their lives as they go through these last difficult years. I am also grateful that inspite of all the pain and difficulties that have come my way God is still constant, my desire to know God is still constant and the renewal that affords me is priceless. I can live with the thick.