When Amy and I spoke this morning, she told me Charlie was having his 4th grade picture taken at school. Amy paid him a quarter to wear a "fancy shirt" , blue and white gingham. I stuck a quarter in an envelope and mailed it to him when I hung up the phone. When he got home from school and I called him, I asked him what else he wore for his school picture...he said "plaid shorts. " I love it. gingham and plaid. the best. I can't wait to see the picture.
I am going to the "Heartworks House" everyday after I drop Mary off at pre-school. I walk in, take a deep breath, light some candles and look around in a state of overwhelming amazement, gratitude and a bit of anxiety at all the stories, all the families we are reaching out to. Cancer, cancer, cancer seems to be everywhere...On my street, in my friendships and at the Heartworks House. And along with the cancer, there is love, love, love, hope, hope, hope, faith, faith, faith, love, love, love, fear, fear, fear, awakenings, awakenings, awakenings, suffication, suffication, suffication, grace, grace, grace.
My favorite priest and author, Richard Rohr, says "Fall through your life situation, into your life" what this means to me is that the "situation" of our lives right now, is not our real life. Our real life is with God, in the lessons, and growth and healing...the "situation" is just showing up to help us come back to Him. I pray for this each day...to "fall through" the drama, the pettiness, the distractions of everyday life into the real life of service, my family and love. My daily phone calls to Amy remind me that nothing as we know it today will stay the same. Everything changes all the time. Purhaps this is the greatest human struggle...the near impossible ability to accept that nothing is permanent. It all seems so REAL...doesn't it? What is real is love. What is permanent is love. What I want most in my life- to give and recieve, is love. My prayer for Charlie on his Carebridge prayer page was that he feels the love we all have for him as he falls asleep tonight. It is my prayer for all of us. I picture his sweet little head, half full of blond curls resting on his pillow, with his blue and white gingham shirt crumpled up in a ball on the floor and I pray he falls through this dignosis into the love that is so abundant in his life.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Peggy's Reflection
Below is a story that my friend Peggy sent to me (she posted it on Facebook but I'm not on Facebook) It ties together 9/11, Heartworks and the power of one small gesture. I remember every bit of the stories she tells...the carnarion in 6th grade, the note I wrote her, the walks, the day she shared her fear with me about her father. A few years ago she came to a heartworks meeting in Bernardsville (a while before she was part of starting a group in another part of Jersey) and she started to tell the group how we reconnected because of a note I wrote her during a dark time in her life, and she reaches in her bag and pulled out the note...I couldnt believe she still had it after all these years- but she made the point that one small gesture brought with it so many healing lessons... (for both of us) and she encouraged the women in the room to always move forward with the one small gesture that speaks to them...Here is what my friend Peggy DeLong wrote:
Reflections on the Past
Reflections on the Past
I spent much of yesterday reflecting on my past and events that have led to where I am today. I was struck by how lives cross, coincidences occur, and you sometimes don’t know the significance until years later, or decades later.
Being that it was the 10th Anniversary of 9/11, I was thinking about how Heartworks got started. My dear friend from childhood, Megan Sullivan McDowell, founded Heartworks after she witnessed the outpouring of support for the families who lost loved ones on that tragic day. Her sister’s husband, John Farrell, died that day. Megan had the opportunity to witness and experience the support from all over the world provided to her sister and family. In Megan’s own words: “I cannot remember when it exactly was. But I can clearly remember saying to myself that when we have our feet solidly on the ground again, I would spend the rest of my life paying forward all the kindness shown to my family. My silent appreciation needed to be said out loud, in a way that would benefit others as it had my sister.” Megan then founded Heartworks, an Acts of Kindness group. Just this month, they opened Heartworks House in Bernardsville.
Megan and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. I was a year ahead of her in school. Back then in elementary school, it was unusual to be close with girls who were not in your own grade just because there were not many opportunities for interaction. But there was something about two girls in particular, Megan Sullivan and Amy Michalowski. I remember attending their sixth grade graduation and giving them carnations, and feeling very special that I was their “older” friend. Another friend of Megan's, who was also my friend in high school, Lisa Kertesz Kelly, is the leader of Heartworks of Vermont. I find it interesting that 30 years later, the four of us are involved with Heartworks in different states, Megan as founder and leader of the Bernardsville group, Amy as the leader of a group in Rhode Island, Lisa as the leader in Vermont, and me as co-founder of the Long Valley chapter, along with Jen DeSimone, who serves as our leader. As little girls, we had no idea how our lives would later be connected.
Megan has been doing “heartworks” or acts of kindness long before she had a formal name for it, just in the way she was, and the way she reached out to others. My fiance passed away on 10/11/94 after a seven month valiant fight with cancer. By a cruel twist of fate, all of my closest friends moved away that August, September, or October of 1994. Nancy moved to Connecticut, Kristen moved to Arizona, Ali moved to Virginia, Amy moved to California, Jennifer moved to Colorado, Jeriann was already in Georgia, and Jody, Larry, and the band moved to Nashville. Everyone was moving on with their lives for graduate school, jobs, and relationships, and I was stuck in my grief without my core support, other than my dear family. Then one day I received a card in the mail from Megan. We had lost touch for years, maybe even ten years. In the bottom corner of the card in tiny numbers, she gave me her phone number, and she let me know that she was back in Bernardsville. I called her, and then began our regular walks, which sustained me through my darkest time.
I remember one walk in particular. We were walking up the steep part of Rolling Hill Road, coming from Seney Drive. I told Megan that I could not even think about or bear another loss, and that I often worried about my father’s health. The next day, my father died. He spent most of the day before getting ready for his first day of skiing. He was taking an early season trip to Vermont. He took out all of his equipment and wore his ski boots around the house most of the day. He even proudly showed me how he fixed the rip in his ski pants with duct tape, and we talked about our upcoming trip to Lake Tahoe (Squaw Valley) to visit my brother David. My father died on a chairlift while skiing at Okemo Mountain in Vermont on 11/21/94. The ski patrol were able to tell us that they had seen him skiing, so we were comforted that at least he got some good runs in. He had an unusual and unforgettable way of skiing that exuded happiness. Skiing casually with his arms out, listening to his tunes. I don’t think he was in his multi-colored clown wig that day.
While this was so tragic and such a blow to me and my family, who had just lost my fiance six weeks earlier, I was comforted by some thoughts my father shared with me just two weeks before. My father was very close to my fiance, and his death really took a toll on him. He was so heartbroken to lose his future son-in-law, and to see me in so much pain. We talked a lot about death after Scott died, and one of the things my father said was, "If I have it my way, I'm going to die on a chairlift." He said that is where he felt the most at peace and the closest to God, breathing in the cool mountain air. Well, two weeks later after he said that, he died alone on a chairlift from a sudden heart attack. Although way too young, he died exactly the way he wanted to. Knowing this was such a comfort to me and my family. It does not get any better than that. Beautiful.
Once again, Megan was there for me. And my friends all flew back home again from their various locations for my father’s funeral, after just being there six weeks before for my fiance’s funeral. And then they all left. Megan was around for a little while, and then she too left, moving to Colorado. But she left me with the strength I needed to get through the worst part. And then the next ski season came around, and I met my now husband. Actually, the ski season had ended, but it was with my ski buddies at a mountain biking party that I met John.
Now, meeting him through my ski friend is not strange, as many of my friends met their husbands through skiing. But it is strange that John and I skied the same mountains every weekend since we were in grade school, but we never crossed paths. We had several friends in common, and on one of our first dates, he asked why HIS friends were in MY 15 year old photo album! As Kristen put in her wedding toast to us, “The most remarkable aspect of your union with Peggy is that you unwittingly skied the same mountain since childhood, not knowing that each trip down the slope, each turn or mogul negotiated, was bringing you closer to each other.” Although he did not have the opportunity to meet my father through me, John knew my father before he even met me. He knew him as the crazy man who skied at Jack Frost on Wednesdays in a multi-colored clown wig, and who said hello and talked to everyone.
As I ran yesterday, I was also thinking about how many lives have been touched since Megan founded Heartworks. Not only through the original Bernardsville group, but also the Vermont group, Rhode Island group, Long Valley group, and kids’ group in Florida. What I love about Heartworks is reaching out and connecting with other people.
One particular situation came to mind. Last year, my town unexpectedly lost a loved member of the community, a man I did not know. Heartworks members each chose a month to reach out to the family, which included that man’s wife, his daughter, and his son. When it was my turn, I was at a loss as to how to reach out. One of the things I decided upon was to give the son a lego set for his age. I felt uncomfortable about delivering a gift to strangers who were still in the midst of their grief, and I procrastinated dropping off the gifts long after I purchased them. As I drove down the driveway to the house, my heart was pounding. I went to the front door and rang the bell. The wife was not home, but I left the package with her mother. I only left my first and last name, and that the gift was from Heartworks.
A couple days later, I was at home and the doorbell rang. An unrecognizable woman was at my door, and I thought it was another Jehovah’s witness. I opened the door, and she asked me if I was Peggy. I thought to myself, “Oh no! She even knows my name!” Then she told me her name, and the two of us immediately embraced. She took the time to track down my address to thank me in person for the gifts that I gave her family. She stated that the gift for her son arrived on her son’s birthday. I guess there was a special reason for my procrastination. She also said that the only thing that her son wanted for his birthday was a lego set, and her son thought that the gift was a gift from his father sent from heaven through me. Coincidence, I think not. I love the saying, “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.”
So today, I thank Megan for re-entering my life and providing me with the support and strength that I needed after the deaths of my fiance and my father. I also thank her for starting Heartworks and bringing Heartworks into my life. I thank Jen DeSimone for leading Heartworks of Long Valley. I thank my father for his goofiness and teaching me what is important in life. I thank my mother for continuing to be my rock in my adult life. I thank God for bringing John into my life. I thank God for my three beautiful children. I thank John for creating with me the family and life I always dreamed of having.
Being that it was the 10th Anniversary of 9/11, I was thinking about how Heartworks got started. My dear friend from childhood, Megan Sullivan McDowell, founded Heartworks after she witnessed the outpouring of support for the families who lost loved ones on that tragic day. Her sister’s husband, John Farrell, died that day. Megan had the opportunity to witness and experience the support from all over the world provided to her sister and family. In Megan’s own words: “I cannot remember when it exactly was. But I can clearly remember saying to myself that when we have our feet solidly on the ground again, I would spend the rest of my life paying forward all the kindness shown to my family. My silent appreciation needed to be said out loud, in a way that would benefit others as it had my sister.” Megan then founded Heartworks, an Acts of Kindness group. Just this month, they opened Heartworks House in Bernardsville.
Megan and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. I was a year ahead of her in school. Back then in elementary school, it was unusual to be close with girls who were not in your own grade just because there were not many opportunities for interaction. But there was something about two girls in particular, Megan Sullivan and Amy Michalowski. I remember attending their sixth grade graduation and giving them carnations, and feeling very special that I was their “older” friend. Another friend of Megan's, who was also my friend in high school, Lisa Kertesz Kelly, is the leader of Heartworks of Vermont. I find it interesting that 30 years later, the four of us are involved with Heartworks in different states, Megan as founder and leader of the Bernardsville group, Amy as the leader of a group in Rhode Island, Lisa as the leader in Vermont, and me as co-founder of the Long Valley chapter, along with Jen DeSimone, who serves as our leader. As little girls, we had no idea how our lives would later be connected.
Megan has been doing “heartworks” or acts of kindness long before she had a formal name for it, just in the way she was, and the way she reached out to others. My fiance passed away on 10/11/94 after a seven month valiant fight with cancer. By a cruel twist of fate, all of my closest friends moved away that August, September, or October of 1994. Nancy moved to Connecticut, Kristen moved to Arizona, Ali moved to Virginia, Amy moved to California, Jennifer moved to Colorado, Jeriann was already in Georgia, and Jody, Larry, and the band moved to Nashville. Everyone was moving on with their lives for graduate school, jobs, and relationships, and I was stuck in my grief without my core support, other than my dear family. Then one day I received a card in the mail from Megan. We had lost touch for years, maybe even ten years. In the bottom corner of the card in tiny numbers, she gave me her phone number, and she let me know that she was back in Bernardsville. I called her, and then began our regular walks, which sustained me through my darkest time.
I remember one walk in particular. We were walking up the steep part of Rolling Hill Road, coming from Seney Drive. I told Megan that I could not even think about or bear another loss, and that I often worried about my father’s health. The next day, my father died. He spent most of the day before getting ready for his first day of skiing. He was taking an early season trip to Vermont. He took out all of his equipment and wore his ski boots around the house most of the day. He even proudly showed me how he fixed the rip in his ski pants with duct tape, and we talked about our upcoming trip to Lake Tahoe (Squaw Valley) to visit my brother David. My father died on a chairlift while skiing at Okemo Mountain in Vermont on 11/21/94. The ski patrol were able to tell us that they had seen him skiing, so we were comforted that at least he got some good runs in. He had an unusual and unforgettable way of skiing that exuded happiness. Skiing casually with his arms out, listening to his tunes. I don’t think he was in his multi-colored clown wig that day.
While this was so tragic and such a blow to me and my family, who had just lost my fiance six weeks earlier, I was comforted by some thoughts my father shared with me just two weeks before. My father was very close to my fiance, and his death really took a toll on him. He was so heartbroken to lose his future son-in-law, and to see me in so much pain. We talked a lot about death after Scott died, and one of the things my father said was, "If I have it my way, I'm going to die on a chairlift." He said that is where he felt the most at peace and the closest to God, breathing in the cool mountain air. Well, two weeks later after he said that, he died alone on a chairlift from a sudden heart attack. Although way too young, he died exactly the way he wanted to. Knowing this was such a comfort to me and my family. It does not get any better than that. Beautiful.
Once again, Megan was there for me. And my friends all flew back home again from their various locations for my father’s funeral, after just being there six weeks before for my fiance’s funeral. And then they all left. Megan was around for a little while, and then she too left, moving to Colorado. But she left me with the strength I needed to get through the worst part. And then the next ski season came around, and I met my now husband. Actually, the ski season had ended, but it was with my ski buddies at a mountain biking party that I met John.
Now, meeting him through my ski friend is not strange, as many of my friends met their husbands through skiing. But it is strange that John and I skied the same mountains every weekend since we were in grade school, but we never crossed paths. We had several friends in common, and on one of our first dates, he asked why HIS friends were in MY 15 year old photo album! As Kristen put in her wedding toast to us, “The most remarkable aspect of your union with Peggy is that you unwittingly skied the same mountain since childhood, not knowing that each trip down the slope, each turn or mogul negotiated, was bringing you closer to each other.” Although he did not have the opportunity to meet my father through me, John knew my father before he even met me. He knew him as the crazy man who skied at Jack Frost on Wednesdays in a multi-colored clown wig, and who said hello and talked to everyone.
As I ran yesterday, I was also thinking about how many lives have been touched since Megan founded Heartworks. Not only through the original Bernardsville group, but also the Vermont group, Rhode Island group, Long Valley group, and kids’ group in Florida. What I love about Heartworks is reaching out and connecting with other people.
One particular situation came to mind. Last year, my town unexpectedly lost a loved member of the community, a man I did not know. Heartworks members each chose a month to reach out to the family, which included that man’s wife, his daughter, and his son. When it was my turn, I was at a loss as to how to reach out. One of the things I decided upon was to give the son a lego set for his age. I felt uncomfortable about delivering a gift to strangers who were still in the midst of their grief, and I procrastinated dropping off the gifts long after I purchased them. As I drove down the driveway to the house, my heart was pounding. I went to the front door and rang the bell. The wife was not home, but I left the package with her mother. I only left my first and last name, and that the gift was from Heartworks.
A couple days later, I was at home and the doorbell rang. An unrecognizable woman was at my door, and I thought it was another Jehovah’s witness. I opened the door, and she asked me if I was Peggy. I thought to myself, “Oh no! She even knows my name!” Then she told me her name, and the two of us immediately embraced. She took the time to track down my address to thank me in person for the gifts that I gave her family. She stated that the gift for her son arrived on her son’s birthday. I guess there was a special reason for my procrastination. She also said that the only thing that her son wanted for his birthday was a lego set, and her son thought that the gift was a gift from his father sent from heaven through me. Coincidence, I think not. I love the saying, “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.”
So today, I thank Megan for re-entering my life and providing me with the support and strength that I needed after the deaths of my fiance and my father. I also thank her for starting Heartworks and bringing Heartworks into my life. I thank Jen DeSimone for leading Heartworks of Long Valley. I thank my father for his goofiness and teaching me what is important in life. I thank my mother for continuing to be my rock in my adult life. I thank God for bringing John into my life. I thank God for my three beautiful children. I thank John for creating with me the family and life I always dreamed of having.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
The Meaning of God's Grace
This time 10 years ago, my Madison was 2 years old and came home from my friend's house in her friend Adin's pj's with trucks all over them. She had gone there with my friend when I lost feeling in my hands earlier in the day. I knew I could not focus on Madison, watch the news, email frantically to friends on the East Coast about what floors people were getting out from, cry, sit with Eddie, call home every 5 minutes all at once. Today I watched her as an almost 12 year old...running around laughing with her cousins in a hooded sweatshirt at our family picnic and this day 10 years ago seemed like it happened in another lifetime. Or just yesterday.
The service this morning was filled with families, re-married widows, grown kids and aging parents. The passage of time was apparent, and the empty space where my Dad would be standing felt substantial this year. By the time we recieved Communion, a ton of texts had come through from old friends and new ones waking up to thoughts of my family- I could not have felt more loved today.
Heartworks House had a full day vigil of all the names of the victims that we hand wrote this week and hung on the walls. United States Veterans came for two ceremonies and when I walked Mr.Burkholder through the office space (94 years old, Vietnam, Korea and WWII Veteran) it occured to me that I have no void in my life right now. Heartworks, and the ability to reach out to others has healed any lingering emptiness that used to sneak up on me, especially when the girls were young and we would be home all day and I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing with myself. Our new space for Heartworks is awesome...it is ours. It is going to allow us to do whatever we can for people who need us with very little restriction.
Maryanne's kids are all doing well. Maryanne laughed alot today. We spent the day with John's sister Maureen and her husband and his brother Jim and his family- it was so good to be with them. My brother was here from Chicago, all Mare's kids were home too. We were all together... loving John and it was beautiful.
Father Pete said something I loved in his homily today at the Shrine-
"We do not need to solve the mystery of evil to find our way into the magnificent meaning of God's grace."
Today, Heartworks house was filled people...
We were together as a family....
Charlie is happy at school and his BFF Kieran is in his class...
God's grace is magnificant and evil had no hand on us today.
The service this morning was filled with families, re-married widows, grown kids and aging parents. The passage of time was apparent, and the empty space where my Dad would be standing felt substantial this year. By the time we recieved Communion, a ton of texts had come through from old friends and new ones waking up to thoughts of my family- I could not have felt more loved today.
Heartworks House had a full day vigil of all the names of the victims that we hand wrote this week and hung on the walls. United States Veterans came for two ceremonies and when I walked Mr.Burkholder through the office space (94 years old, Vietnam, Korea and WWII Veteran) it occured to me that I have no void in my life right now. Heartworks, and the ability to reach out to others has healed any lingering emptiness that used to sneak up on me, especially when the girls were young and we would be home all day and I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing with myself. Our new space for Heartworks is awesome...it is ours. It is going to allow us to do whatever we can for people who need us with very little restriction.
Maryanne's kids are all doing well. Maryanne laughed alot today. We spent the day with John's sister Maureen and her husband and his brother Jim and his family- it was so good to be with them. My brother was here from Chicago, all Mare's kids were home too. We were all together... loving John and it was beautiful.
Father Pete said something I loved in his homily today at the Shrine-
"We do not need to solve the mystery of evil to find our way into the magnificent meaning of God's grace."
Today, Heartworks house was filled people...
We were together as a family....
Charlie is happy at school and his BFF Kieran is in his class...
God's grace is magnificant and evil had no hand on us today.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
September 11, 2011
I am up...I can't sleep...I keep watching the footage on TV...why? I don't know. Tomorrow morning I will be at a service with about 300 other 9/11 family members at St. Joseph's Shrine in Stirling, NJ. I have been asked to speak, and below is what I am going to say. We are bringing 70 candles with us- they will be lit by each family and placed up on the alter of this beautiful, outdoor memorial. We will be standing under a bell tower that was created out of two steel beams from each of the towers. It is the same place we have been every September 11th for 10 years. My father stood there with us for 4 of these past 10 years. I feel his presence and his absense every year. The candles will be lit and prayed over and then given out to families in need of hope this year by family members gathered at the Shrine who will take them home, and Heartworks will give away the rest this upcoming year.
Heartworks is having a Day of Remebrance at our new home tomorrow.. (we had our first INCREDIBLE meeting there on Tuesday) .Heartworkers have spent the week hand writing the names of every victim and have hung them each on the walls of the meetiing room. I feel great anticipation going to sleep...on one level John is no more honored tomorrow than any other day by my family...but there is something about being surrounded by hundreds of other 9/11 family members that is remarkable.
Tonight I am grateful to be together with my family- my brother is in from Chicago. Maryanne oldest kids Kaitlin and Patrick came home from college and John's memory filled my house tonight as we ate pizza together. Here's the thing...He's "gone" but he's never "gone". He is always right here with us, for pizza, at the beach or whatever else we are doing. Always and All Ways.
Good Night.
Heartworks is having a Day of Remebrance at our new home tomorrow.. (we had our first INCREDIBLE meeting there on Tuesday) .Heartworkers have spent the week hand writing the names of every victim and have hung them each on the walls of the meetiing room. I feel great anticipation going to sleep...on one level John is no more honored tomorrow than any other day by my family...but there is something about being surrounded by hundreds of other 9/11 family members that is remarkable.
Tonight I am grateful to be together with my family- my brother is in from Chicago. Maryanne oldest kids Kaitlin and Patrick came home from college and John's memory filled my house tonight as we ate pizza together. Here's the thing...He's "gone" but he's never "gone". He is always right here with us, for pizza, at the beach or whatever else we are doing. Always and All Ways.
Good Night.
Reflection Speech September 11, 2011 at Morning Service, St. Joseph's Shrine Stirling, NJ
My name is Megan McDowell. I am the sister of Maryanne Farrell who lives in Basking Ridge. Her high school sweetheart and love of her life is John Farrell who worked for Sandler Oneill in the South Tower
I was struggling with what I could possibly say to all of you today...There is no magic formula for grief- there is no cure- there is simply life and God and grace. Missing someone you love is the journey of moving through the cruxifiction of our own lives into a sense of resurrection. I have found that one of the only things that helps with my own grief, over John and other losses my family has had since 9/11 is to use what I have been through to help and serve others.
In 2004 I started a non profit acts of Kindness group called Heartworks to pay forward the kindness that sustained my sisters family, my own family and all of us gathered here for the weeks, months a and years since september 2001. Our group of women, recreate, on a daily basis, the meal deliveries the fundraising, the errands and anything else that needs to be done for a family in crisis. In the past 7 years Heartworks have helped me to heal my own live, and Ive watched it do the same for my mother and my sisters.
In 2004 I started a non profit acts of Kindness group called Heartworks to pay forward the kindness that sustained my sisters family, my own family and all of us gathered here for the weeks, months a and years since september 2001. Our group of women, recreate, on a daily basis, the meal deliveries the fundraising, the errands and anything else that needs to be done for a family in crisis. In the past 7 years Heartworks have helped me to heal my own live, and Ive watched it do the same for my mother and my sisters.
The term “I understand” is used so often in response to grief- people say it, even though they don’t understand- people say it when they couldn’t possibly understand because they have not been through a close loss- but this group, all of you standing here today- when you are sitting with someone who’s life has been shattered, you do understand
The shock of life as you knew it being over in a split second...“you understand”
The anguish of wanting to turn back the clock to the day before the tragedy... "you understand”
The paralyzing physical sensations of grief ...“you understand”
The fear of those rising feelings of yearning... "you understand”
The incomprehensible realization of the loss... "you undetstand”
And so- because of this, all of you standing here have the ability to bring God grace to the planet, into someone’s kitchen, in a way that much of the population can not do - it is uniquely yours- whether it is the loss of your spouse, your child, your parent, or maybe you are like me- someone who has your immediate family all present but have been the witness to your extended family breaking and suffering and transforming into a new shape- When you sit with someone who is grieving you have so much to offer that again, is uniquely yours-
You are living proof to them that their heart will keep beating , even though the heart of the person they love has stopped
You can ensure them that memories live on and that the love never fades- not even for a moment, in no way , shape or form does your love diminish…in fact, it grows deeper
You can tell them that even though they may not love God this very moment, what is important is that they stay open to receiving God’s love
You can share with them the big and little things you did each day to get through till the next and how the shadows of fear shift form over time
You can show them that their family is still a family, that some members are here in body and that some are here in our hearts, but your family is your family, is your family, is your family. No matter what.
Even though you did not ask to be a part of the events of 9/11- even though you did not want this experience, this loss- it is a part of your life story just as it is part of the person you love’s story- take it to someone else and sit with them, in their kitchen, on their September 11th, when their life changes unexpectedly and permanently. It may not be in the form of terrorism. It may be showing up for them as a diagnosis , or a car accident or a heartattack- but the feelings, the sensations of death are the same if not extraordinarily similar- loss is loss, grief is grief regardless of the day or the way or the details of the story. You can sit with someone in a way perhaps noone else can because of the uniqueness of your story and what you have lived through. Doing this will heal your own wounds as well. I promise you this.
So one way to do this is to please take a candle. In a moment we will all pray over them- prayer feels important to do because there are soldiers right now, away from their families, fighting to insure that we can gather here this morning- from all different religions and beliefs, and stand together in prayer. Public prayer is not happening in NYC in the very spot where prayer was abundant 10 years ago- so lets make sure we do it here at St. Josephs
Please put your hands up to these candles, and then anyone who wants to, can take a candle home to pass on to someone, as a way of saying you understand and they are not alone. All the candles that remain, Heartworks will passe on to the hundreds of grieving families that we will meet this year.
Please God we ask to be opened to the miracle of your healing grace
We pray that the emptiness we experience is filled by you
We pray for the courage to reach out into a broken world, from a place of our own brokenness
We ask for gentle, continuous memories of the person we love
And for those too young to have memories, we pray that they come to understand how much they are loved
We pray for all families in the upcoming year who will experience struggle, that they find You in the darkest of times
We ask for all people who are grieving to become new each day through knowing You.
AMEN
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Thank You Thank You Thank You
I don't know why I haven't written in a week or so...last week was such an amazing week. I attended two Heartworks meetings, one in Long Valley, NJ and then myself and two other Heartworkers, Holly and Marianne drove up to Barrington, Rhode Island to facilitate Amy's group and see Charlie during his second week of treatments. By the way, he is running around like a mad man and spends more time in hockey and lacrosse gear than any boy I have ever met. While Amy is taking care of Charlie and his brothers, her friends are going to step up and run Heartworks until she feels ready to step back into her role as leader. Amy started her group 4 years ago and it was an incredible experience to witness the 37 women who showed up for the meeting- their love for Amy's familiy was almost palpable and for as much as I say I don't get nervous leading meetings, I was nervous for this one. To guide this group of women through the process of what it means to be in Heartworks, just felt so urgent now, given that Amy is actually living through a child undergoing radiation and chemotherapy. The most amazing part of the night was that by the time we lit the prayer candles, not even half way through the meeting, I felt as if I had known this circle of women my entire life. This is what happens when the walls are knocked down and women get real with themsleves and each other. We stayed until 1:00 in the morning and I got to hear Amy's laugh and when I asked her if there was any part of the meeting she wanted to participate in or lead, she said "The gratitude exercise". And so there she was, a mother living out her worst nightmare... leading a mantra of "THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU" - words can not express the feeling in that room.
Inbetween these two meetings we sent our friend Katie Meyler back to Liberia to put 100 more girls in school thanks to her fundraising efforts while she was home. Monday night my girls and I spent time with my neighbor's, the Hoyt family, selling lemonade to raise money for pediatric cancer research. They held this lemonade stand on the night bofore they left for Boston for 5 year old Campbell to start 6 months of treatment there for the tumor in her brain. I also took my girls to the pool, had a date with my husband, hung out with my mom and sisters and friends. It was a full week...full of challenges, love, inspiration, fear, faith and hope. I am leaving in the morning to go back to see Chalie again and I know I am blessed to have access to such love in my life. My life is full and I am grateful. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU.
Inbetween these two meetings we sent our friend Katie Meyler back to Liberia to put 100 more girls in school thanks to her fundraising efforts while she was home. Monday night my girls and I spent time with my neighbor's, the Hoyt family, selling lemonade to raise money for pediatric cancer research. They held this lemonade stand on the night bofore they left for Boston for 5 year old Campbell to start 6 months of treatment there for the tumor in her brain. I also took my girls to the pool, had a date with my husband, hung out with my mom and sisters and friends. It was a full week...full of challenges, love, inspiration, fear, faith and hope. I am leaving in the morning to go back to see Chalie again and I know I am blessed to have access to such love in my life. My life is full and I am grateful. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Visiting the Past
Last night I drove 2 miles to a restaraunt in my town and walked up a set of stairs and straight into the past. Old friends, childhood companians, stood in front of me with legal glasses of wine in their hands and a few wrinkles on their faces (mine too). As I made my way around the room at this memorial dinner for Ranjan Sinha, a high school classmate who recently passed away, what I noticed most is that noone's eyes have changed.
styles, yes
body types, yes
hair color, yes
eyes, no.
I saw my old friend Tracey...one of my BFFs from childhood. It was one of those homecomings...one of those "where have you been for 25 years and how have we not spoken? What is your husband's name? Are you happy? do you work? Do you love what you do? Can you sit for a hundred years and catch me up? When did you meet him? What flowers did you have at your wedding? Do you drink diet Coke, I do, and I wish I could stop, what are your friends like? Do you remember this, that and the other thing??? I love you even though we haven't spoken in spoken in forever"
Our friend Patty wasn't there from Florida and we missed her...My old friend Sandy wasn't there either but we spoke about both and several others that couldn't make the trip. We ate dinner, caught up and watched a slide show of Ranjan running around different tracks all over the East Coast. The sighs were loud and authentic when candid pictures appeared of coaches Mark Wetmore and Ed Mather sitting at the Penn Relays or on the track at Bernards High School. Most of these shots caught them in the middle of a lecture, and I knew that even the photographer was changed by what was being said as he or she was taking the picture.
Stories were shared about my father...how he helped people through hard times, how he would sit at "the wall " at the high school and say "What you are experiencing you here, today, will affect you for the rest of your life and you will always remember it." And I witnessed over and over again how right he was. I pictured him there in the room with us, in a tie and jacket, with a glass of water in his hand looking around, smiling and nodding his head so thrilled to see the runners gathered there. How proud he would have been of everyone...not because of any business titles or so called successes....but because we showed up 25 years later and cried and hugged each other and were present with the glories and regrets of the past.
When I saw the lack of ego in this group, the lack of needing to show off or be something other than we are...I thought of so many people that I have met in my adult life that are so imprisoned by their image and what they want others to think of them, that it is difficult to get to know who they actually are. It felt to me, that last night, we all showed up as we are...fit, not-that fit anymore, married, divorced, single, "successful", struggling, happy, depressed, satisfied, craving more, better off, less off than we were in the last time we saw each other in the mid eighties. And I know that the truth is that all of us are a little bit of all of these things. I went the whole night pretty much not knowing what anyone does for a living. I did not talk to one person about the car they drive or where they vacation, what school their children go to or what their job title is. This is rare for a cocktail party in my town and I had a quiet smile on my face even through the sad parts of the evening. Because every person there was so beautiful in my eyes. I held hands longer than I would normally do, hugged tighter and sat closer to those around me. It was a night of authentic (there's that word again) relationships, even with the people I never hung out with much in high school. I don't know if this was about Ranjan's death or something else. Death, illness and struggle, as resistant to these things as we are, seem to be what allows human beings to show up "uncovered" in a way that nothing else does. I can not help but think that this is part of the plan. That it is the struggles, the losses that brings us to crave a connection to God and other people in a way the easy phases of life don't enable us to do.
We met this morning at "the wall" at BHS and we had bagels and some of us went for a run...the rest of us took pictures of those who ran :). It is safe to say, because I live around the corner in the house I grew up in, that I drive past the high school every day. And every day I think about that wall and the ghosts that gathered there all those years ago to stretch and talk and run. Not only run from the wall, but perhaps from all the things that were happening in our young lives that we probably didn't know how to talk about. But last night, as teammates remembered Ranjan, they spoke about their the isolation they felt during those years, how they felt like an outsider and Ranjan made things easier for them during high school. I know he was brillant, I know he was fast, I know he was a hottie...but at the end of my life, I don't know if there would be a better compliment, a better expression I would want to represent my life, than I was the type of person who made someone's life easier while they were in high school. This was a theme in remembering Ranjan Sinha.
When I drive by the high school tomorrow morning on the way to the grocery store, the ghosts will be a little more alive for me, maybe a little slower than they used to be..but perfect all the same. Thanks for a great weekend.
styles, yes
body types, yes
hair color, yes
eyes, no.
I saw my old friend Tracey...one of my BFFs from childhood. It was one of those homecomings...one of those "where have you been for 25 years and how have we not spoken? What is your husband's name? Are you happy? do you work? Do you love what you do? Can you sit for a hundred years and catch me up? When did you meet him? What flowers did you have at your wedding? Do you drink diet Coke, I do, and I wish I could stop, what are your friends like? Do you remember this, that and the other thing??? I love you even though we haven't spoken in spoken in forever"
Our friend Patty wasn't there from Florida and we missed her...My old friend Sandy wasn't there either but we spoke about both and several others that couldn't make the trip. We ate dinner, caught up and watched a slide show of Ranjan running around different tracks all over the East Coast. The sighs were loud and authentic when candid pictures appeared of coaches Mark Wetmore and Ed Mather sitting at the Penn Relays or on the track at Bernards High School. Most of these shots caught them in the middle of a lecture, and I knew that even the photographer was changed by what was being said as he or she was taking the picture.
Stories were shared about my father...how he helped people through hard times, how he would sit at "the wall " at the high school and say "What you are experiencing you here, today, will affect you for the rest of your life and you will always remember it." And I witnessed over and over again how right he was. I pictured him there in the room with us, in a tie and jacket, with a glass of water in his hand looking around, smiling and nodding his head so thrilled to see the runners gathered there. How proud he would have been of everyone...not because of any business titles or so called successes....but because we showed up 25 years later and cried and hugged each other and were present with the glories and regrets of the past.
When I saw the lack of ego in this group, the lack of needing to show off or be something other than we are...I thought of so many people that I have met in my adult life that are so imprisoned by their image and what they want others to think of them, that it is difficult to get to know who they actually are. It felt to me, that last night, we all showed up as we are...fit, not-that fit anymore, married, divorced, single, "successful", struggling, happy, depressed, satisfied, craving more, better off, less off than we were in the last time we saw each other in the mid eighties. And I know that the truth is that all of us are a little bit of all of these things. I went the whole night pretty much not knowing what anyone does for a living. I did not talk to one person about the car they drive or where they vacation, what school their children go to or what their job title is. This is rare for a cocktail party in my town and I had a quiet smile on my face even through the sad parts of the evening. Because every person there was so beautiful in my eyes. I held hands longer than I would normally do, hugged tighter and sat closer to those around me. It was a night of authentic (there's that word again) relationships, even with the people I never hung out with much in high school. I don't know if this was about Ranjan's death or something else. Death, illness and struggle, as resistant to these things as we are, seem to be what allows human beings to show up "uncovered" in a way that nothing else does. I can not help but think that this is part of the plan. That it is the struggles, the losses that brings us to crave a connection to God and other people in a way the easy phases of life don't enable us to do.
We met this morning at "the wall" at BHS and we had bagels and some of us went for a run...the rest of us took pictures of those who ran :). It is safe to say, because I live around the corner in the house I grew up in, that I drive past the high school every day. And every day I think about that wall and the ghosts that gathered there all those years ago to stretch and talk and run. Not only run from the wall, but perhaps from all the things that were happening in our young lives that we probably didn't know how to talk about. But last night, as teammates remembered Ranjan, they spoke about their the isolation they felt during those years, how they felt like an outsider and Ranjan made things easier for them during high school. I know he was brillant, I know he was fast, I know he was a hottie...but at the end of my life, I don't know if there would be a better compliment, a better expression I would want to represent my life, than I was the type of person who made someone's life easier while they were in high school. This was a theme in remembering Ranjan Sinha.
When I drive by the high school tomorrow morning on the way to the grocery store, the ghosts will be a little more alive for me, maybe a little slower than they used to be..but perfect all the same. Thanks for a great weekend.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Transformation Make Your Home in Me by Amy Ames
Transformation Make Your Home In Me
A prayer for the darkness of a diagnosis.
They say you are a part of me now and that you have made yourself known. The kids are crying, worried, losing sleep. Your hearty handshake of "hello" has not loosened its grip on my stomach. And my breath! My breath is heavy. Is that because you've already made yourself known to the rest of me? Trying to show all parts, who's the boss?
I don't know you but you are a part of me now. Like an uninvited guest barging your way into my daily affairs. Appointments, white shoes, white coats. Tests, tests and more tests. Waiting, waiting and more waiting. The only difference today from yesterday is a few syllables a tongue mixed with an exhale that uttered your name.
I feel fine, I feel fine. Perhaps you existed on the slide before the shutter closed? An 8.2 millimeter smudge? There must be some sort of mix-up. I feel fine. I feel fine.
Where did you come from? The air in which I breathe? The food I swallowed? A hundred inconveniences? A lifetime of angry frustration? Will I ever know?
They say you will grow. They say you might spread. They need to figure you out. I need to figure you out.
And when I look, you are so small! And I am so great! I am so much more than 8.2mm. A daughter, a mother, a wife, a grandmother, a teacher, a nurse, a friend. With so much love yet to give. So much more of life to live.
So now you are in me and a part of me, a part of my cellular makeup that has been wounded. Like a cut on my leg, or a bruise on my arm, I will nurse you back to health. That's what I do, that's who I am.
I will care for you. Every cell will care for you. There are enough of them to do so. They shall dance around you.
Will you let us in? Will our love and our nurturing be enough to transform your attacking nature?
Let us walk this road of uncertainty together at least. Let us resist our need for answers. Let us breathe life in and let love out. Every moment of every day. Because you are in me and now a part of me.
Transformation make your home in me.
I don't know you but you are a part of me now. Like an uninvited guest barging your way into my daily affairs. Appointments, white shoes, white coats. Tests, tests and more tests. Waiting, waiting and more waiting. The only difference today from yesterday is a few syllables a tongue mixed with an exhale that uttered your name.
I feel fine, I feel fine. Perhaps you existed on the slide before the shutter closed? An 8.2 millimeter smudge? There must be some sort of mix-up. I feel fine. I feel fine.
Where did you come from? The air in which I breathe? The food I swallowed? A hundred inconveniences? A lifetime of angry frustration? Will I ever know?
They say you will grow. They say you might spread. They need to figure you out. I need to figure you out.
And when I look, you are so small! And I am so great! I am so much more than 8.2mm. A daughter, a mother, a wife, a grandmother, a teacher, a nurse, a friend. With so much love yet to give. So much more of life to live.
So now you are in me and a part of me, a part of my cellular makeup that has been wounded. Like a cut on my leg, or a bruise on my arm, I will nurse you back to health. That's what I do, that's who I am.
I will care for you. Every cell will care for you. There are enough of them to do so. They shall dance around you.
Will you let us in? Will our love and our nurturing be enough to transform your attacking nature?
Let us walk this road of uncertainty together at least. Let us resist our need for answers. Let us breathe life in and let love out. Every moment of every day. Because you are in me and now a part of me.
Transformation make your home in me.
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