life and death

In Awe of the Breath of Life and Full Circle of Life

Witnessing the full circle of life recently continues to have my heart opening in expansion.

Saturday, January 18, I sat vigil with my husband John’s family as my father-in-law transitioned from this earthly plane.

As I sat in my father-in-law’s hospice room I was moved to tears at the sacred work of the nurses and the compassion they extended, first and foremost to my father-in-law, and to the family.

Years ago as a volunteer with my therapy dog, Frankie, at the same hospice facility, I experienced this work as an honor and a privilege to be allowed in the rooms of those that would soon be on their way to another dimension. I learned so much about myself during that time.

I wasn’t there for my father-in-law’s last breath at 10:29 pm (he passed twenty minutes after many of the family members headed home for some rest), but I welcomed hearing about the experience from my sister-in-law who was.

I don’t feel afraid of death as I did when I was younger. Being in the room with my father-in-law and being witness as he went through the different phases and moved toward transitioning I found myself feeling like I did when I was a volunteer — I was deeply honored to be a part of the experience.

And then in what felt like a blink of an eye, the following Saturday at 9:50 pm and 9:51 pm my grand-nieces made their way into the world. I’m a great auntie (to twins!) for the first time!

And whoosh! I couldn’t help but really feel at the depth of my core the full circle of life with one who took his last breath and two who came in breathing on their own with strong lungs even though they arrived eight weeks earlier than expected.

All of this has had me pondering the breath of life — it’s all we have — it’s what brings us into this world, it’s what sustains us while we are here, and it’s what guides us as we transition.

Within those breaths of life, I’m also reflecting once again on the importance of the pause—to really be in the space of what is of the utmost importance while I’m here and how to live that.

Times like this of witnessing the full circle of life has deepened my appreciation not only for the breath of life but for the many pauses that are essential to living a life of meaning as we define it for ourselves.  

xo,

Barbara

Moved to Tears at the Grocery Store Today

Spring

Photo credit

As I pulled into a parking spot of Piggly Wiggly, a purple car pulled up next to me. A woman with a lavender knit cap on and a purple fleece jacket smiled at me. It is in the low 60s and I was wondering why this woman had such a warm hat on.

At first I didn’t recognize her. As she began rolling down the window of her car, I then realized it was someone I had worked with at a local resort years ago.

Jeanne has always had the most beautiful smile. We walked together to the front of the grocery store, standing outside and catching up.

In 2011 she was diagnosed with lung cancer. She was a smoker. The cancer moved to her brain. She had screws and plates put in her head and has had a lot of radiation.

She told me the fact she is still alive today is because of so many people all over the world praying for her. She calls her doctor, who told her it’s not if the tumors will come back in her brain, but a matter of when, Dr. Doom and Gloom. She tries to not take him too seriously.

I sat in awe of this amazing spirit of Jeanne standing in front of me as she told me how grateful she is to still be here. And that she knows where she is going someday and isn’t afraid.

She shared with me some sadness she experienced, of which she really has never experienced much sadness. And yes, from what I knew of her from working with her, she was always happy and laughing. She still is. I believe that is the reason she still is here – because of her positive attitude.

But her sadness one day, while she wasn’t sure what it was at first, finally came to her. She was sad for her two children – still in their teenage years. She felt guilty for being sick and that they have to endure this. She’d do anything to not have them feel the pain of this.

She called her pastor’s wife and shared with her how she was feeling. As she was telling me this, I wondered what on earth the pastor’s wife could possibly say to help Jeanne through this and make her feel better.

She said, “Jeanne, who do those children belong to?”

Jeanne knew right away and said, “God.”

And with all the compassion in the world the pastor’s wife said, “That’s right. And don’t you think God will take care of them for you?”

I was moved to tears. Not only because I believe this to be true, but also the profound strength and courage that Jeanne is. Though she is very humble and wants none of the credit for that. She told me it is God. Not her.

She sees Him as using her to be this vessel of inspiration that she is to many, including me.

I drove home feeling as if I had just encountered a part of God myself. And I did, really. He put Jeanne in my path to put life all back into perspective again.

She told me she knows her days are numbered – but we both agreed – do we really even know that?  We don’t.

I have a feeling ten years from now I’ll be running into her at the grocery store again.

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