Learning to Breathe Again

Sometimes you don’t realize how much tension you’re carrying until some level of acceptance or resolution is achieved and you’re finally able to let go and exhale.

Our immediate family has just been through a potentially life-threatening health scare. It took nearly six weeks to get tests scheduled and results interpreted.

The concern over what might be, the fear and what-ifs that concern spawned, the waiting-without-knowing, the re-living of the last time this happened to us with my late husband Bill’s 2014 terminal GBM diagnosis, was excruciating—the emotional equivalent of holding our breath.

The waiting is over, and the news is good. We’re filled with gratitude and relief.

But things are not “business as usual.”

We’re not the same people we were six weeks ago. We have a much deeper awareness and understanding of who we are, what really matters to us, and how we want to live going forward. We’re re-evaluating *everything* in our lives in light of the lessons learned and the clarity we’ve gained—slowing down, pausing longer, considering more carefully—and basing decisions on what’s best for our family’s physical, mental, and spiritual health and well-being.

We’re learning to breathe again.

But it’s a process.

It can be challenging to embrace life—to live hope—again after spending so many uncertain days wondering whether a future even existed, particularly when we’re facing other equally serious issues that could upend life as we know it.

One of the things that’s helping is leaning into creativity. Over the course of the last few weeks—as we watched and waited—we’ve worked at making our backyard a welcoming, beautiful space; a sanctuary that celebrates life.

We have hummingbird feeders and planters on the deck. We’re already enjoying beautiful flowers and fresh herbs and will eventually have tomatoes. My granddaughter planted wildflowers, put up a squirrel feeder, a birdhouse, a fairy garden, and decorated the flower beds with adorable frog figurines and solar lights.

Last weekend my daughter repurposed one of the milk cans from early days of our family farm when there were dairy cattle and the lid from an old hose caddy and turned them into a bird bath.

One of the other things helping me process everything we’ve been through and breathe again is the time I spend in reflection and meditation each morning. These days, my companions are the Psalms and Mary Oliver’s poetry. One of my favorites—one that speaks directly to my heart right now—is “Invitation.”

Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy

and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles

for a musical battle,
to see who can sing
the highest note,
or the lowest,

or the most expressive of mirth,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air

as they strive
melodiously
not for your sake
and not for mine

and not for the sake of winning
but for sheer delight and gratitude - 
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing

just to be alive 
on this fresh morning
in this broken world.
I beg of you,

do not walk by 
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.

It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant when he wrote:
You must change your life.

Mary Oliver, Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver, Penguin Books, copyright 2017, pp. 107-108.

What about you, Dear Reader? How are you embracing life and living hope these days?

If that’s not where you are—if you’re holding your breath, in a season of uncertainty and waiting, facing questions that at the present moment have no answers—know that you are not alone. I see you and am holding you in my heart.

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One of the other things that keeps me grounded is my passion for reading. Here’s what’s on my shelfie this month.

Louise Penny,

Melanie Leavey

, Agatha Christie, and Travis Baldree are among my favorite authors, and their books are just a joy to read. Being able to lose myself in their words helped keep my heart and mind from completely spiraling out of control during those long days of waiting and wondering.

I found Kate Moore’s volume about Elizabeth Packard and the conditions and abuses in a 19^th-century insane asylum in my part of the world both compelling and infuriating. Members of our family spent time—and died—in that institution. It’s heartbreaking to think about what they might have endured.

And after hearing rave reviews, I can’t wait to dive into “Living Resistance”.

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The Times of Our Lives Teaser

As I mentioned in the blog, I/we are re-evaluating *everything* in our lives, and for me, that includes my writing. In previous newsletters, as a way to hold myself accountable and finish it, I’d been offering teasers from my contemporary mystery novel Outside In.

But I also have a book of poems and prayers that’s about half done, and I’m considering whether that’s where my attention needs to be right now. So this month, I’m sharing one of the prayer poems from that work-in-progress: “The Times of Our Lives: Poems and Prayers for Every Season”.

The chapters of the book are organized around the vows often heard during a marriage ceremony. This selection is from chapter three, From This Day Forward: Prayers of Confession, Transformation, and Change. As always, Dear Reader, if my choice of language for the Holy does not resonate with you, feel free to use language that is meaningful to you.

Teach Us

Teach us, Holy One.
Instruct us. Guide us. Show us the way.

Teach us to learn the questions—
the obvious ones, and those hidden;
the ones we fear the answers to, as well as
those we don’t even know how to ask.
May we invite them in, entertain them,
sit with them until we understand them.

Instruct us. Guide us. Show us the way.
Then teach us, Sacred Presence, to ask.

Give us courage to humbly seek your face in all things.
To search for clarity; wisdom; truth.
To ask forgiveness when we miss the mark; make mistakes; fall short.
To request what we need—
mercy, grace, compassion, healing, justice, peace—
in order to live with love, in wholeness and wellness.

Instruct us. Guide us. Show us the way.

Teach us, then, Companioning Spirit, to walk in your truth.
Knowledge—awareness—is one thing—
important and necessary—but we are also called
to act on our awareness: to, as Maya said, “Do the best you can
until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”*
to “act justly; love mercy; walk humbly with you.”**

Instruct us. Guide us. Show us the way.

Teach us, Lord of Life.
Over and over, again and again,
remind us of your unfailing compassion,
your endless mercy, your amazing grace,
your enduring faithfulness,
your constant presence, your great, great love.

Instruct us. Guide us. Show us the way.

And may we learn well,
to love as you love,
with a whole, undivided heart.

It is the only answer.

*Maya Angelou **Micah 6:8

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