When I was a child we lived many of my early years in a four-family apartment building. My mother owned it and we rented out the other 3 apartments. Each unit was 2 bedroom, 1 bath. We had a paved driveway to play on. It ran along the side of the building, (a great place to play with a pinky ball or hopscotch) and a lower parking lot where we could ride bikes. The other side of the building had a strip of garden where I could find bugs and honeybees to experiment upon.
One of my favorite places was the closet under the stairs. In the basement, which at times flooded, there was a closet where my parents stored paint for the apartments. Due to the flooding there was a fragrance of dried mud on concrete. This closet had a door that could be locked from the inside and one light bulb. I would often go in there to hide from my family. I would turn over a paint can to use for a stool. Eventually I began swiping birthday cake candles to use in there so I could turn off the light. I had no idea I could have set the place ablaze with candles and paint cans!
Over time I began using thumbtacks to put up pictures of Jesus on the wall studs from various family funerals. The only person I showed the place to was my best friend Dana. Other than that it was private.
Recently during a Soul Collage retreat I was reminded of that secret place. Looking back I realized it was my early place of refuge and inspiration. For this collage, I tried to find a photo of a paint can. The only one I found was silly with polka dots on top of red paint.
The images each represent something to me. Clockwise from 11:00, they represent the Holy Spirit by the figure in the white cowl. The stained glass the church. The paper with words and the pencil, writing to His glory. The stream in the center is the Living Water. The candle for the basement closet with the paint can. The open hand, yielding to the Trinity. In one form or another all these things occurred or began in the secret worship place.
What is the foundation of your faith? Did you have spiritual formation in a secret place?
I once read The Secret Garden by Burnett. This quote sums up these ideas for me.
“Where you tend a rose my lad, a thistle cannot grow.” ― Francis Hodgson Burnett
I do not think Father God waits until the last moment to call and transform us. I believe He begins early in our life and continues until we answer the call to come to Him. Jesus said that in the book of John.
No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day. John 6:44 NIV
So much of our faith is formed and prospers in private.
Return to the Lord and find your resting place in Him. Surrender to the call upon your soul and spirit.
I was in hysterics watching this. Sent it to most of my friends. Hilarious!! Click on the link. You can ignore the sign in for Facebook and just watch the video. Don’t bother with the sound. The subtitles are so funny!
On the national news the same night was this clip. One of our Grandgirls is fluent in sign language, so, of course, I had to send it to her with the suggestion that she train her 2 Corgis this way! You do want the sound on for this one, unless of course, you know sign language!
Lizzie and Drew’s Corgis, like in the first video, live with several cats!
Mom had bunches of sayings. Likely Your Mom did, too?
“You know it’s so!” does not even have an image for this day and age!
“Don’t chase the pain.” Take your post-op pain medications on a schedule. Do not wait until the pain overwhelms you.
“Let’s get this show on the road.” The Random House Dictionary of America’s Popular Proverbs and Sayings says this expression originated in the world of traveling theater productions and was in common use by the 1930s, having originated around 1910.
Remember when television shows would admonish you, “Don’t touch that dial!” Now we don’t even have dials any more with all the remote controls and now even voice controls!
“Nothing ever has to be true for people to believe it.” Sadly, America does not “run on Dunkin” as much as this saying.
“She always said you might as well hope for the best as go around fearing the worst.” Hillary Greene
Once I was riding a public bus and asked an older man how he was doing today. His response, “Okay. Can’t complain. Complain’ never did any good any way!”
Hope I made you think about sayings you know and perhaps smile once or twice?
I have been asked to explore some other methods of telling my story besides the blog and poetry. So I have attempted to put a few memories down on paper. This will be a 2 part read since it has many more words than most blog posts ever attempt.
At age three I broke my thigh playing with my sister and her older friends in a neighbor’s driveway. They were doing Double Dutch jump rope where they swing two ropes simultaneously in opposite directions and you jump in on the side of one of the rope turners. (See photo above.) The girls let me try. I broke my leg. Obviously, way too complicated a sport for a 3-year-old. Someone ran to my house and told mom. She came to get me.
We rode to Good Samaritan hospital from Loveland to Clifton in the car. I was in the back seat. I only remember someone lifted me into the back seat. There were no freeways then. No idea how long it took us to get to Good Samaritan. I was taken to that hospital because my Dad was already admitted there with a heart attack.
The hospital doctors decided to put my leg in traction for six weeks to heal. I suppose they numbed my leg or more likely put me to sleep when they set my leg? I have no memory of that. When they put me in traction, I do remember being furious that they put me in diapers. I was so insulted. I was certainly fully potty trained! It was hot and there was no air conditioning. My long dark hair was cut off in a short choppy bob. Below is a photo of me in traction, hair cut short and sweating. Once while I was asleep, the staff brought my meal. When I awoke the milk was no longer cold. I loved cold milk. My mother obtained a glass of ice and poured my milk over it. I was so angry. I had never had milk like that. Could be I was a 3-year-old brat? Or simply confused and frustrated at my new situation.
One day during my stay they rolled my bed into the room where my dad was a patient. It was such an unusual situation for a young child. I do remember he talked with me and our hands touching.
Someone came to visit and brought me a white stuffed dog that I named Casey. He had a metal nose (which at age 73 I still have). His ears seemed to be made from real fur, sort of like a curly tanned hide. The rest of him was a stuffed white dog shape. Someone else brought me Brach’s cream filled Royal caramel rolls in a metal can. To this day I use that can for candy. Once I saw the same can used as a prop in a movie!
I do not remember there being a television in my room. I am certain televisions were not standard equipment in 1954. Certainly, no computer tablet to play upon. I might have tried to color, but lying down that would have been difficult! Hopefully someone read me stories.
After six weeks, my leg was put in a cast. I do remember being alone with the Sisters of Charity when they decided it was time to cast my leg. Somewhere to my side, across the room, there was a sink. Men in white coats came towards me with large white steaming sheets. I had no idea what those were. I was so frightened. Those men began to wrap my leg in the warm plaster preparation. The nuns comforted me. I left that hospital wanting to be a nun. I have no idea where my mother was during the casting. Perhaps she was not allowed in the treatment room? Maybe she was with my dad in the cardiac unit? All I do know is that the nuns (in full habits) comforted me. I went home in the cast.
I left the hospital wanting to be a nun. My parents bought me a Nun doll for Christmas. I have her tiny rosary in my keepsake cabinet. When I chose to be baptized my mother forbid me to become a Roman Catholic. She said my grandfather, a Methodist minister, would roll over in his grave. I eventually joined the Episcopal church. They came closest to what I felt was true worship. Also, as close as you can get to being a Catholic but without the Pope and such strong emphasis on Mary.
Doll sized rosary on tiny altar to remind me to make a of sacrifice of praise to the Lord our God
It must have been difficult for my mom to care for me, especially while my dad recovered from yet another heart attack. I do know we had a babysitter named Myrtle. Towards the end of her life, she wanted to see my sister and me one more time. She visited us because she was dying of cancer. She gave my sister and me a tiny white New Testament and signed it “Love, Myrt and Gerald.” My first and at times best New Testament! I still have it and use it occasionally.
I have no memory of the doctor or a tech taking me out of the cast. I do not remember any kind of physical therapy. I do remember the doctor talking with my mother about fears that one leg would be shorter than the other.
As you read this I am on my way to a six night, seven day retreat with my spiritual director. I made this adventure last year and am really looking forward to the experience once again. So I likely will not be posting on the blog next week. My typical routine is to write on Monday and Tuesday mornings and post Wednesday through Sunday. This week I will reside in a Sisters of Charity guest room. Private room with half bath, shared but private shower room. All meals included plus nice grounds for walking, rooms for prayer, art work. Just a lovely place. They even have a huge church in the building if I want to go there.
We changed from one internet/TV/phone provider to another last week so Bob in particular has been busy, busy this week with setting up remote controls, learning the remote basics and getting us all situated. I typed a smaller channel guide from the large one they provided.
I have been learning how to use the CGM, (Continuous Glucose Monitor) to make my decisions about foods I eat, how often I eat, etc. The two most annoying things are when the alarm from this device rings in the night and when it loses signal. I even changed the device implanted on my arm on my own this week! Took out the old one (painless). Inserted the new one which was painless but still foreign to me. The hardest thing was getting the container for the new one open. I had to get Bob to do it. I was not strong enough. Grrr. Doctor has changed when I take one of the diabetic medications. We are still working to adjust some aspects of my care.
Lucky, our special beagle is improving with her new monthly arthritis injection, Librela. Her tail is much more straight as she walks now and she can walk further than 2 months ago. She still gets stiff (we can relate!) but she seems to be in much less pain.
Bob has resumed riding his bike at least once a week. We both walk for exercise most every morning. I have been clocking at least one mile a day. Told myself I can take a day off when there is morning rain. Trying to work up to longer walks which will be a challenge in this hot, humid weather. Ha! at the convent I can even walk when it rains! No idea how many times I will need to circle a floor to get a mile! Not quite ready to attempt their indoor stairs.
Three old dogs living here and maybe not new tricks, but adapting to changing ages, technology and health. Whew! It can be a lot of work to keep up, stay calm and work at something you are unfamiliar with. So that is the Dutina update!
I pray you are each doing your fair share of adapting to change and growing in new technological advances!
The photo above shows the outside of what remains of the church called Teampall Bhreacain, Na Seacht dTeampaill, County Galway, Ireland. I believe it is also known as Church of the Hollow. I think r m dutina took all of these photos, but honestly I cannot remember. We were wandering separately around the grounds. When he caught up to me I could barely speak!
The altar from afar
Through the window of the ages Past the thick walls of time Stands a symbol of death Nay! Bright resurrection Hope of all men
The rough stones placed In geometrically sound patterns Of worship, of honor, of praise Roofless now that heaven may freely break through to us of long ages later Arches , capstones, edges of time Torn by the worship of long ago Until our hearts are lifted up To worship the same lovely truth
You came for us You come to us still To have us for Your own Encircling with Spirit Invading with Holy Illumine our techno age With truth of heaven Power of Holy Spirit of Life.
Why would I want to return to Church of the Hollow at Inishmore? I could have sat there for hours, listening, praying, in worship and wonder. Next time I would return with a folding chair!
At our senior citizen crochet and knit group we often get our terms mixed up and sometimes call a crochet pattern a recipe. We each chuckle and understand the faux pas.
Did I tell you about my humorous interchange with a ranger at the Great Smoky Mountain National Park visitors center? He had been speaking with Bob for while when I walked up. He asked where we were from and we told the Cincinnati area. He asked if we brought any chili with us. I said, no but you can get it in the freezer section now. He said he tried it canned and did not like it. I told him, “Well I have a recipe do you want me to send it to you?” He seemed eager. Then we spoke about other things regarding the Park. They now charge $5.50 per day for a parking permit. We thought that was more than reasonable since there is no park admission. We asked how many people are willing to pay the fee and how many skip it.
He said, “Funny thing about that! If you buy the permit all the proceeds go to the Park. If you wait and get cited, the rangers have to write the citation and all the proceeds go to the (I think he said) Department of the Interior and the park does not see a dime.” Now wait a minute! The rangers do the work and the park gets nothing?!?
As we ended our visit with him and he shared with me his email address he asked if I would send him the chili formula! I almost busted out laughing. I have done the pattern and recipe faux pas but have never heard a recipe called a formula!
So if you are interested in Cincinnati Style Chili, what follows is the FORMULA my mother used! She and my dad ran a chili parlor in Norwood for several years. A three way has chili, spaghetti and cheese. A four-way has beans, too. A five way has all of those plus raw onion.
Cincinnati Chili *For vegetarian, use (2 lbs. ground beef or venison) 1-1/2 c TVP and more water 2 onions, chopped 1/4 t ground cloves 4 c water 1/2 oz unsweet chocolate 2-8oz. cans tomato sauce 2 T vinegar (or 4-6 frozen, peeled tomatoes) 1 bay leaf 1/2 t allspice 2 t worcestershire sauce 1/4 t garlic powder 2 t cinnamon 2-4 T chili powder 1-1/2 t salt 1 t cumin 1/2 t red pepper Combine uncooked meat, onions & water: simmer 30 min. Add remaining ingredients. Simmer uncovered 2-3 hrs until thick (stir frequently first hour). You may add a can of rinsed red or kidney beans. For best flavor, chill overnight. Serve with spaghetti & cheese, chopped raw onions if desired!
Life meanders like a path through the woods. We have seasons when we flourish and seasons when the leaves fall from us, revealing our bare bones. Given time, they grow again.
KATHERINE MAY
During my formative years my parents always kept a dog. Four years ago Bob and I adopted a small beagle from a rescue shelter. She was very, very timid. The shelter had brought her from the wilds of Kentucky. They believed she had run away from a breeder. When they spayed her somehow the vet knew she had delivered two sets of puppies. They also had to pull many of her teeth. It is believed she had chewed her way out of a metal cage that the locals there called a coop. She broke off many of her teeth doing that.
We brought her home and did our best to get her settled. We gave her toys and she had no clue what to do with them. We would roll a ball and she would watch it as if to say, “So?” Eventually she relaxed in our company.
She thoroughly enjoyed her first pup cup of Starbucks whipped cream!
She learned how to help Bob drive.
About 4 months after we adopted her she was attacked by a pit bull in the neighborhood. We rushed her to the vet for an emergency Sunday visit. It was my birthday. She had head trauma, puncture wounds and soft tissue injuries. It was terribly frightening. She recovered and so did we. Bob followed through on getting that dog out of the neighborhood.
after her vet treatment
When we moved from Siesta drive to Platform street, she really came into her own. She began to think that yes, everyone could be a friend. She was convinced that certainly those visiting our house came to see just her.
Time rolled by. We loved her dearly and she in turn began to show a little affection for us. She has only barked a few times over the years, usually going many many months in between episodes. Even as a beagle she never bays or howls.
Best place to be if a thunderstorm occurs!
She is like my silent companion until we put her on a leash. Then she becomes the nose on legs. She has grown front shoulders like a football player and can hold her place while she reads her “pee-mail.”
About a year ago she began to show some pain in one back leg. Then it subsided and we thought no more about it. We did get her canine glucosamine chondroitin tablets. We bought a new couch and put a fabric cover on it. Her favorite place has always been lying on the couch and we allow that. She asks for so little.
I’ve taken to calling her “Beagley-beag.” She is also known as Luck-Luck and a variety of other terms of endearment. I talk to her throughout the day. If we have been gone from the house a few hours she greets us with little whines as if to ask, “Where have you been?” If we had reason to kennel her while we were away she comes out of her crate giving us a piece of her mind. It sounds like, “How dare you? Don’t you know I will be good?” She knows how to bawl us out without a single bark.
When I had shoulder surgery in January she would sometimes want to get up on the couch and had difficulty doing it. She would even cry for me to pick her up but I was unable to lift her while wearing the sling for 6 weeks. I made her a pillow bed on the floor. Occasionally she would screw up her courage and jump up on the couch. That became more and more rare.
She needed a bordetella injection and I was concerned about her refusal to jump up, so I took her to a new vet in March as the other vet had stopped offering boarding and gone corporate. The new vet put her on two medications for her leg pain and asked that she come in for more blood work before they would refill the one Rx. They wanted x-rays of her legs. We refused the x-rays as we do not plan to submit her to surgery.
When we went to the Smoky Mountains in April we boarded her with our granddaughter who likely takes more indulgent care of her than we do! We were shocked when we returned after 4 days. She had declined drastically. She could barely walk. When she did walk she held her tail with a strange bend in it as if trying to improve her balance. Whereas in the past this dog always had to be on a leash or she would take off, now we could drop the leash in the yard and she would not move. A couple times I took her out to “do her business” and she would just lie down. Bob used to walk her about a mile every morning. Now she can barely make it three doors down the street and back.
I began to grieve sensing that her time on earth without suffering had passed. I know, I have messed up this blog with past tense and present tenses all intermingled. Suffice it to say it is just simply difficult to write this out.
We decided to return to the vet that we had left. They have treated her the entire time she has been in our care. They agreed that she is definitely suffering. They offered a monthly injection for osteoarthritis (which the other vet had offered, too). We decided to try it for one or two months to see it is improves her particular condition. The vet says the problem seems to be in her back “knees.” We are weaning her off one medication. Once that is out of her system they might try a steroid medication if she still has not improved from the injection.
The quote at the top of this blog set me off on this telling. Here are a few of the bare bones of my grieving. I never mean to get attached to our pets, yet I do and I love them freely. I have a better understanding now of why farmers say they do not want animals in the house. Once you name them, and house them, and live day-to-day with them it is that much harder to let them go when the time comes.
One neighbor said she wished her 12 year old Corgi could just out live her. Too hard to let go. Another said it is not fair that they die while in our care. I do not want to embrace the alternative of not having a pet. Bob has stressed repeatedly how difficult it is at our ages (read 70’s) to walk and care for a pet. This particular beagle refused to just go outside and “do her business.” She insists on being walked. So there is the conundrum of what to do when she passes. Bob said I can have another dog I really want one. I know if we get another it would need to be half of Lucky’s weight. At 27 pounds she is just too heavy for me to carry.
April 2024 sunbathing on the back deck and favoring that one leg though both now pain her
Recently the Lord reminded me that Lucky is on loan to us. I will try my best to trust the Holy One with her future. I am praying for grace and strength to release her peacefully when it is time. Watching her suffer is so very difficult.
A righteous man has kind regard for the life of his animal, But even the compassion of the wicked is cruel.
Recently I met with my best friend from childhood for a 2 hour lunch. We talked about everything under the sun including what is most important to us in our lives right now. I spoke about writing this blog. I spoke about editing my poetry. She spoke about how much I need to get involved in a program in Cincinnati called Women Writing for a Change. (Evidently they offer the program in other areas of the country, too.) I’ve known about this program for years. I have a major objection and a minor one.
The minor one is that there is a charge. The major one is much larger. Let’s discuss moving out of your comfort zone. In my family of origin the #1 method of control was criticism. Constant, unrelenting criticism over anything and everything I ever did. And nothing was ever forgiven or forgotten. When there was any opportunity for criticism the past was dredged up and gone over, rehearsed, rehashed again as if it had just happened this week. One of the tenets of writing groups is, as I understand it, sharing your work for input from others. OUCH! I do not believe I could ever risk taking what is so valuable to me and asking others for their input. That’s likely why I like the blog.
One day while driving to another part of town I was listened to a radio program called One-A on public radio. They were discussing a book I had never heard of. One Thousand Words: A Writer’s Guide to Staying Creative, Focused, and Productive All Year Round by Jami Attenberg. I did not want to listen, but I was drawn in. Jut like the “Lookie-loos” at a highway accident I had to know what this book was about. It stressed content for those who are writing a book, but I am just interested in being a better writer, I argued. They repeated more than once the importance of sharing your work with other writers who can help you improve your work. I cringed at the very thought. The book is new, so it was not at the library yet or available used at my favorite place, Abe Books. I ordered it that evening from Amazon.
While I waited for it to come I took the challenge of writing 1,000 words. I mean, how hard could it be? I chose a story from 1954 during my childhood. My first mistake was thinking they meant write 10,000 words. Have I ever mentioned that numbers are not my strong suit?
After I got finished writing my dislike for all of this, I began rolling along. Frustrated at the word count I put it away for a day. Next day I realized my mistake in the number of words required. I edited out my complaining and got to work at trying to finish the vignette. I was able to accomplish the piece.
On Tuesday my same friend sent me information about a free introductory class on Core Groups for Women Writing for a Change. (Core groups are the small groups organized for the writers.) Okay, I did it. Signed up for a free Thursday morning class in May. Oi-yoi-yoi. What have I done?
One of my favorite words is oy. Yes, it’s an exclamation of disappointment, dismay or exasperation, but it’s also many other things.
We use oy when things aren’t going so well. It seems older Jews use it much more than younger Jews, perhaps because they always have a pain somewhere.
Oy-yoi-yoi-yoi-yoi-yoi-yoi (or any multi-syllabic utterance of the term) suggests a more lasting discomfort. Oy vey suggests that things are “hitting the fan”; it says this is not your average oy.
The book has arrived. It includes “wisdom and inspiration from more than fifty beloved writers.” Sure hope they can help me move forward with this experiment. Wonder if they are up for the task of overcoming many years of criticism. Maybe, just maybe I will hit my stride and surprise myself?
Psalm 27 was one of my favorites as a teenager and into my early adult years. It applies now, too.
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
For my father and my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord will take me up.
I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; yea, wait for the Lord!
It was a grand sunny day, though the wind remained cold. We had a morning with nothing planned for us! I had heard of a relatively new bakery called Clarity House, Bakery and Tea Room. Mention bakery to Bob and we are off on a field trip!
The bakery was cozy and welcoming. The soft ginger cookie enticed me! He ordered the blueberry scone. When we go out in the morning I often have to find a restroom as I declare, “Morning coffee, coming through!” This day was no exception. As I followed the instructions from the waitress I happened on a room with 5 women having a Bible study. I asked what they were studying. There was a pause and one answered “Jesus!” One Bible was opened the Isaiah and another to Timothy. I went along to use the facilities. When I emerged I noticed an area devoted to leaving prayer requests on tags. Bunches had been filled out. Very nice!
As we got back in the car we pondered what to do next. Montgomery is very close to Kenwood where our local Trader Joe’s is located. We had been there the week before and the dark chocolate bars I wanted for the physical therapists were on back order. The clerk assured me he would have them in 2 or 3 days. I told him I usually only visited once a month or less. Bob suggested we return there to see if the chocolate was in. In fact, it was in and I purchased it for our cupboard and the PT team.
Kenwood is just down the road from Silverton. We have tried multiple times to buy from Silverton Donuts. We arrived there to find a sign on the door that they would not be open for a couple days. Drats! We started to wonder if we would have to get up before sunrise to try their tasty treats!
Well since we were in the area we stopped at Esther Price candies. The older folks around here have been searching for “Hummingbird Eggs.” This candy is like tiny drops of cream candy. No one seems to make them anymore. Esther Price did not either. All the rest of their candy was stocked for the coming Easter celebration. We bought ourselves a solid dark chocolate rabbit. Then Bob spotted the individual candies. They reminded us so much of See’s Candy in California. They do not make vanilla walnut fudge (drats, my favorite), but the chocolates sounded divine! Bob decided on a mixed 8 ounce box. The cashier said we had the best person packing the box. When we asked why she told us, “She always puts in some extra pieces!” Sure enough she added 2 “turtles” chocolate over caramel and pecans. Oh goodness. We each ate half a turtle in the car.
Since the kids are grown and the oldest grandkids no longer seem interested in candy and certainly not Resurrection Sunday, we decided to just celebrate among ourselves, like before the kids came along. On the way home I pondered how much fun it would be to display our candy on the china layer plates that our daughter had replaced for us. When we moved I packed the display dish my mother loved and this move one of her plates broke. I chose to keep the Esther Price chocolates in the cupboard for just the two of us.
Another item missing from the Easter candy displays this year is pastel candy corn. I thought perhaps it might take the place of hummingbird eggs? Bob decided we should stop at Supreme Nut and Candy company to see if they carried it. Just a few more miles down the road right at the freeway exit. Why not? Nope. They did not have any this year. My usual evening snack that is crunchy and low carb means 2 caramel rice cakes. I have found they are extra tasty with a little bit of candy corn! So we bought regular candy corn to refill the jar!
You may remember the trip to the Amish country where we spotted the feeder pig barn.?
Fitting to keep this photo next to the candy!
At times I challenge Bob that we eat our way through a vacation. This time it was a tasty road trip. Most everything made it home without any bites missing.
Treasures in Plain Sight, A Christian Blog 