Standing at the Gate of the Year...

The past year has been a difficult one for me on many fronts, but there has also been much joy, and love, and tremendous support and encouragement. I give thanks for the grace to get through the difficult times and to enjoy the good times.

Now we're facing a new year, with 365 uncharted days ahead. We don't know what lies ahead, but we can be certain that there will be challenges, struggles, joys, laughter, tears, all the many things which go to make up our lives.

As I go into a new year, I always like to think of a speech King George VI made in December 1939, as the world was entering the dark days of World War II. At the end of his speech, he quoted a poem that has meant a great deal to me throughout all my life thus far, and I know it will continue to bring meaning to me as the years go by. Please listen to His Majesty, as he speaks a wish, a prayer, for all people, then and now, going into the unknown...


At the Gate of the Year

This Christmastide...

...may you know grace, peace, hope, love

Swing Low, Sweet Chariot...

When I was a little girl, my Dad used to sing that spiritual to me as a lullaby. Although his singing voice was just an ordinary voice, not like the trained voices on the other side of the family, the sound of him singing that song to me was soothing, and I could feel his love in every soft note.

"Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home..."

My favourite nurse on Dad's unit, Julie, phoned earlier this evening to say that Dad's having a lot of problems swallowing -- he's choking on his pureed or liquified foods more and more often. It's difficult to get much nourishment into him, and there's danger of aspiration and resulting pneumonia. She's going to continue to try giving him fluids, at least (thickened fluids, they're easier to swallow than ordinary thinner liquids). She doesn't know if this is just some sort of a phase that will pass, or if it signals the beginning of the end of his life.

His nearly 98 year old body is tired, and it's ready to rest, is how I see it. There's no point in trying heroic measures to add days or weeks to his life. He may come through this as he did a similar incidence in the summer, or he may not.

The chariot may be coming for to carry him home. It may come soon, it may not, but it will be coming. I have to be ready to let him go.

Blake Edwards, 1922-2010

A man I admired so very, very much has died. It's hard to realize as yet, but Blake is gone. He'll be remembered for his great genius in comedy, in film, in writing. I hope he'll also be remembered as one who could light up his wife's eyes with just the thought of him, as one who was deeply loved, and who will be very deeply missed.

Rest in peace, Blake. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Gratitude and Grace

Those are two words that our minister used at the memorial service to describe what was at the core of my Mum's being, and they are two words that I have been holding very close to my heart in the past few weeks.

I want to express my gratitude to you all for being with me through this. Even though I didn't respond individually to your messages of support and caring left as comments on my various blogposts, I want you to know I have read and re-read them, and they mean so very much to me. If I could, I would give each of you a hug, for I truly do appreciate your friendship -- and I hope that I can someday be a support to you, even at long distance, as you have been to me.

Grace -- that has been a word and a concept that I have been mulling over, reflecting on, growing with, as the time goes by. One of my online acquaintances in another online community has used "grace" and "graceful" in connection with Mum and her transition from this life, and in connection with the season of Christmas and my experience of it this year, and her use of that word has touched me deeply.

In my on-going ponderings on grace and gratitude, our minister shared with me this song by U2. The words I'm particularly finding meaningful at the moment are "Grace finds beauty in everything", "Grace finds goodness in everything".

Grace and peace to you, my friends... always.

The Wings that Fly us Home...

This morning, as I continue to walk down this new path of life without Mum, this song has been going through my mind. Although it won't suit everyone's religious or musical sensibilities, there is much meaning in it for me. I hope you'll give it a listen.

John Denver's "The Wings that Fly Us Home"...

There's a new singer in Heaven's choir tonight...

My darling Mum died this afternoon, quietly and peacefully, after the struggle and anxiety she'd experienced in her last few days. I was able to sing to her for part of her last hour on earth, including some of her favorite songs. They'll have even more meaning for me now.

I'll miss her terribly, but I'm grateful she's no longer struggling with the anxiousness and inability to communicate that were part of her last few days.

One of the songs I sang to her was a funeral hymn I wrote a few years ago. The first verse of it is inscribed on her urn, which was made by a potter/artist friend.

Like a crocus on the prairie,

Like a rose in midst of thorn,

Hope can flower in the desert,

Help us bear what must be borne.

Hope can trust, whatever happens,

Christ is with us to the end --

Saviour, Guide and Stay forever,

Comforter, and trusted Friend.

(copyright scb)

Mum's slowly slipping away...

It seems that my little mother is slowly slipping away from us. As the head nurse said today, each day she can see a difference in Mum as she withdraws and lets go. I've seen that difference, too, in the last few days. The head nurse says Mum no longer cares about eating, no longer cares about getting out of her room.

The social worker and the head nurse took me aside today, to talk with me. They are so good -- especially the social worker, who is an absolute gem and a darling. (Today Mum called her "my other daughter", and that's such a good term for her.) The head nurse said they just wanted me to be aware of what was happening with Mum, and the social worker said, "But you know, don't you..." Yes, I know. I see the signs, and I can read them.

Mum had another fall last night. She only has bruises, thank goodness, nothing more serious. It seems she forgot that she's no longer supposed to even try to get out of bed by herself, much less try to get to the bathroom by herself, so today they've put a monitor on her bed with a string clipped to her clothing, so that if she tries to get out of bed, the staff will be alerted. They will be using a different chair for her as well, rather than her wheelchair, as she's just having such trouble holding herself upright in the regular wheelchair. The chair she'll have is sort of a scoop-shaped reclined easy-chair on wheels (that's the best way I can think to describe it. It's not a Broda chair like Dad has, it's much more supportive). They'll have to use the power lift to get her into and out of it, which she may not like, but then, she doesn't seem to be as feisty anymore. When they were explaining to her about it, she told the carers "You take such good care of me. I don't know why you take such good care of me." She's such a sweetheart.

The head nurse also indicated that they're going to talk with the doctor about cutting back on Mum's medications, so she's only getting that which is absolutely essential, which certainly met with my approval. Mum has said a few times recently, "Why do they work so hard to keep us alive?" They'll be going the palliative care route from now on.

I asked Mum if she wanted me to bring Dad over to see her, and she said she thought the kinder thing to do would be just to tell him she's not doing well, but not to try to bring him over. I agreed, but I wanted to give her the option. Dad was asleep when I went to his nursing home today, but I left a message for the head nurse there, to tell her about Mum.

I know in my heart and head that "it's time", but there's still grief. I've been close to tears or in tears much of today. It would be odd if I wasn't. As the social worker said, "You and your Mum are friends, not just mother and daughter." Indeed, Mum's been my best friend.

I don't know how long or short the rest of Mum's time will be, but I'll be there for her, and I'll let you know when she enters the next phase of life.

A blog to share...

My life is currently focussed quite narrowly on my parents' failing health, so there's not much to blog about. And, as my mother's roommate says (over and over and over again), "That's just the way it goes".

There are bright points in each day, however, and one of the bright points today was being led to a blog on Tumblr that shares (among other things) quotes that have made me think, have made me smile, have made me laugh.

I'd encourage you to read a few pages of "hopes that reach the sky" -- even the name is inspiring to me. That's the way I want to live, with hopes that reach the sky.

Yeah -- that's just the way it is.

Want the inside scoop on The Sound of Music? Now's your chance!

For any of you out there in Meadowlark-reader Land who enjoy the movie The Sound of Music, and have lingering questions about what went on behind the scenes, or in front of the cameras, now's your chance to ask!

The seven actors who played the "kids" in The Sound of Music are collaborating on a book about their experiences filming the movie, and they're looking for your help!

If you have any questions lurking in the recesses of your mind about any aspect of the film, the making of the film, et cetera, et cetera and so forth, they want to know! You can leave your question in the comments field on this post on Angela Cartwright's blog. She (and the others) would be most grateful!

Thanks from me, on Angela's behalf. (And on my own, as well -- I'm looking forward to this book!)

Remembering Robert Goulet

Three years ago today, October 30, 2007, Robert Goulet died. His widow, Vera, and many people around the world, are remembering him.

I first heard that glorious voice on CBC radio, singing "If Ever I Would Leave You" -- his signature song, from Camelot.




Thank you, Robert. Your rich voice, your smile, enhanced our lives.

From Stage to Page...

Just some musings, not directly about writing...

My online friend Brian Sibley has had an excellent series on BBC Radio 2 in recent weeks, about the dramatic form "The Musical". One of the episodes was From Page to Stage (unfortunately, it's no longer available on BBC iPlayer, or I'd direct you to that). In it, he explored the various types of literary works that have been portrayed as musicals either on Broadway or the West End or both.

For those of us on the other side of the footlights, or of the big screen, there's also the opportunity of going "from stage to page". Seeing a stage play, musical, or movie, can lead us to explore the book that the production was based on, which can broaden our horizons enormously if we let it.

I've been thinking about this because yesterday a couple of friends and I went to a high school production of "The Sound of Music". (Wow, can those kids sing!) I went out to dinner afterwards with one of the friends and her husband, and, naturally we were talking about "The Sound of Music". She was wondering if there was a book that told the story behind the musical. I assured her that there was, but said I couldn't lend her my copy of The Story of the Trapp Family Singers because I had read it so many times that it had fallen apart, and one section is now missing entirely. (I suppose there's a remedy for that.)

My grandmother took me to see the movie "The Sound of Music" when I was eight, in 1965 when it was first in theatres. It was likely a few years after that, that I discovered the book The Story of the Trapp Family Singers, and began the reading and re-reading process. Both the movie and the book had a long-lasting influence on my life. The discrepancies between the real story, and the Rodgers and Hammerstein version, have never bothered me, instead, each enhanced the other.

That's something to aim for in writing -- something that will touch the reader, that will make the person want to re-read, that will enhance the reader's life. Whether one is writing a book and communicating through a physical book that one's reader can return to again and again, or a screenplay that will touch viewers through the actor's interpretations, lyrics that may sing in the mind and heart long after the song has been heard, writers have an opportunity to influence those who are touched by their works, and have an opportunity to bridge gaps, such as page to stage, or stage to page.

And now, I think I'll order a new copy of The Story of the Trapp Family Singers -- and, in celebration of the 45th anniversary of the movie musical "The Sound of Music", I think I'll watch the movie again. And I will tune in to "Oprah" on November 28th, to see the cast reunited -- Maria (Julie Andrews), Georg (Christopher Plummer) and the seven "kids" (who are no longer kids).

Happy Birthday, Dame Julie!

Dame Julie Andrews is 75 today, October 1, 2010. 75. How can that be possible?

Her work has delighted me since I first saw The Sound of Music in 1965 -- but more than that, her person, her way of being inspires me, and I am so grateful to have been around on this earth at the same time as this truly wonderful woman.

Happy birthday, Dame Julie!

Parental Update...

My Mum had a fall today. She seemed a bit muddled the many times she phoned today (I don't think she was getting enough oxygen to the brain, with her extreme shortness of breath today), and this aft she apparently got fed up with being in isolation (Public Health has decreed that they have to be in isolation, and no visitors allowed in the nursing home, until the respiratory infection that's going around the building is under control). So she went out of the room, and when they tried to explain yet again that it was Public Health's ruling, and they weren't just trying to be mean, she got angry, and stormed back to the room (I assume with her walker), and fell. She had to go to hospital by ambulance, and be xrayed -- the hospital phoned me a little while ago, and there's a slight fracture, not enough to warrant surgery (thank heavens) but she has a "collar and cuff" to support and immobilize it., and there'll be follow-up with an orthopedist. They're sending her back to the nursing home in a wheelchair taxi. They had wondered if someone in the family could pick her up and take her back by car, but I'm the only "someone in the family" and I'm not able to manage getting her in and out of the car, etc. At least she'll be in her own bed tonight, and she realizes she shouldn't have stormed off. Old age is not an easy thing.

I haven't been up to see Dad for a little while -- I've had a bit of a cough and cold, and therefore I'm not supposed to go to nursing homes. When I *have* gone to see him, he's been asleep each time. (He has his days and nights mixed up a bit -- he has "Sundowner's Dementia" which means he gets quite agitated as the evening progresses, and sometimes won't go to bed until nearly morning.) Today the nurse said he was up, and had been able to feed himself breakfast -- he often has to have assistance with feeding -- and since he was near the main desk, she wondered if I'd like to talk with him on the phone. I tried. I really did, but he didn't respond hardly at all, so when she came back on the phone, I thanked her for trying at least. She was going to wheel him into the craft room and see if he'd participate a bit in the crafts. The craft lady used to be able to get him to do all sorts of stuff, but he's gone downhill quite a bit in the last couple of months. And I repeat, old age is not an easy thing.

Because visitors aren't allowed right now at Mum's nursing home, I can't go and spend time with her this evening, so I'm going to spend the evening immersed in Julie-stuff and other positive things. I have to keep my positivity up, so that I can help them deal with things (and so that I can deal with things, as well).

Just thought I'd let you know what's happening in the Household of SCB.

"That's Life"...

AlphaBook meme

I was bored the other night, couldn't go on the computer because my eyes have been bothering all week (nothing serious, just annoying), so I invented a meme.

The Rules (for there must always be RULES):

1. Go through the alphabet, and for each letter, think of a book you've read that starts with that letter (A, An, and The do not count).

2. You must write down the FIRST book you think of for any given letter. This may make for some odd choices, but them's the breaks.

3. You must have actually READ the book. (I thought of lots that started with some letters, but I hadn't read them.)

4. If you think of a more impressive-sounding book for a particular letter, but you've already written your first thought down, you CANNOT change to the more impressive-sounding book. As an example, you have to leave "Fifty Famous Fairy Tales" (the Whitman Publishing pink and white one) on the list, even if you come up with fifty more impressive books afterwards.

5. If you can think of a book for X, you win... my lasting admiration (I can't afford real prizes!)

6. You can then tag as many people as you like. The more the merrier.


And now (drumroll, please), my answers to the meme. I've put in authors where I knew them, partly just to prove that some of them are real books.

The Art of the Letter, by Alexandra Stoddard

Bunny Blue (one of my favourite tiny picture books when I was very small)

Clan of the Cave Bear, by Jean Auel

The Dreaming Suburb, by R. F. Delderfield

Elizabeth, the Queen

Fifty Famous Fairy Tales (which I preferred to call Fifty Famous Fairy Fables when I was a child. It seemed right, somehow.)

Gift from the Sea, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh (This is a wonderful book!)

Home: a Memoir of my Early Years, by Julie Andrews

If You Could See What I Hear, by Tom Sullivan

Julie, by Catherine Marshall

Karen, by Marie Killilea

A Light in the Window, by Jan Karon

Mister God, This is Anna, by Fynn

New Meanings for Old, by Paul Trudinger (my New Testament prof from Theological College days)

On the Beach, by Nevil Shute

Perelandra, by C. S. Lewis (I need to read this again. I was in the wrong mind-space when I read it over 25 years ago, and it spooked me. I think I'd like it more now.)

Q's Legacy, by Helene Hanff (About Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, who, as Helene says, was "all by himself her college education".)

Rabbit Tales in Temiskaming

A Swiftly Tilting Planet, by Madeleine l'Engle

These Happy Golden Years, by Laura Ingalls Wilder

Underfoot in Show Business, by Helene Hanff (a delightful read about her years as a struggling playwright in New York)

The Very Fairy Princess, by Julie Andrews and Emma Walton Hamilton (my current favourite children's picture book. It's a joy!)

Watership Down, by Richard Adams

X

The Young Victoria

A Zoo in My Luggage, by Gerald Durrell (although not my favourite of his books, still definitely a recommended read!)


And I tag Brian Sibley, Anne (in Reno), Cap'n Stephel, Little Miao, Mella (are you around, Mella? Are you okay?) and anyone else who'd like to play!

Starting all over again...

... you may notice I have no archives. I've decided to start over from scratch. Tried deleting one by one and it was making my eyes tired and my stomach woozy, so I've just deleted the lot, and I'm starting afresh. May have been a bad move, may have been a good one, but it's time to do new things.