Whistle While You Work

 My husband whistles. This short sentence of fact reveals a great deal about my husband‘s character and personality. My husband is not a musician or up on the current top 10 music chart. But he is a master of whistling his own heart tunes. I took my husband’s whistling for granted until I realized how rarely I hear other people whistle. Only a chosen few are gifted with the art of whistling. I tried to whistle as a child and failed. I still don’t whistle  

My husbands whistling habit reminds me of  the song from Snow White the Seven Dwarfs “Whistle while you work”  My husband always whistles while he works. A person whistling is generally not an angry person. In frustrating situation, while others may curse or angrily throw things, my husband whistles. He tackles the task, improvising if necessary and continues to whistle while he works. 

His whistling has proved to be handy countless times. My husband’s long, loud whistle summons our daughters home from playtime at the end of summer days. If I need to know his whereabouts I stop and listen. Yes, I hear him.  He is whistling.

Whistling is a ‘one of a kind’ gift. It takes coordination. It has benefits. It relieves stress and is relaxing. Next time you hear someone whistling take advantage of this extraordinary privilege and stop to listen. You’ve just been privy to a lost art.

1992 

On Replay: The Goodness of God

On Replay:  The Goodness of God

I love You, Lord. For Your mercy never fails me. All my days, I've been held in Your hands.  

My days have become many years. The winter of life. Troubles and trials, mountains and valleys, yet never alone. 

From the moment that I wake up Until I lay my head Oh, I will sing of the goodness of God And all my life You have been faithful And all my life You have been so, so good. 

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You know the best for me. You allow me to choose bitter or better. You lift me up when I take my eyes off you. You are always with me. 

“With every breath that I am able Oh, I will sing of the goodness of God." 

I remember the struggle to breathe. Each breath was an effort. Breathing is so automatic until it is not.  It was a dark time filled with challenges from a body that almost totally shut down.  

 I love Your voice You have led me through the fire In the darkest night You are close like no other I've known You as a Father I've known You as a Friend.  

You were with me in the deep dark tunnel helping me see I could climb out of it.  One effort at a time. 

I have lived in the goodness of God. And all my life You have been faithful.  And all my life You have been so, so good. With every breath that I am able Oh, I will sing of the goodness of God.

When I found I was able to physically and spiritually sing again my inner spirit soared.  I was lifted up by my worship and praise for the presence of God that never left me. 

And all my life You have been faithful And all my life You have been so, so good With every breath that I am able Oh, I'm gonna sing of the goodness of God (I'm gonna sing, I'm gonna sing) 'Cause all my life You have been faithful And all my life You have been so, so good With every breath that I am able Oh, I'm gonna sing of the goodness of God Oh, I'm gonna sing of the goodness of God.  

#alwaystrusting 

Perspective

Making choices! It can be difficult from the most mundane decision to the very important decision. Like from what to eat for dinner to deciding to what shingles for a new roof. Yet the hardest choice for me can be how to view my circumstances. This is a daily choice. Actually a moment by moment choice. Do I choose to be frustrated and discouraged because I'm tethered to oxygen 24/7? Or how I get tangled in tubing so many times a day? My lifeline leash has limits to my independence. Yet I do have the choice to be thankful for where and how I am today. Live in THIS day! I chose to remember the journey and where I was a year ago My visit to my pulmonogist was an eye opener yesterday When i pressed him for a prognosis he replied, "It is hard to know what the long term prognosis is because most of the people as sick as you didn’t survive. And we are only 2 years into this to know what long term is." That really shook and shocked me. I'm in a small percentage of critical covid patients that survived. I knew that but I do not always grasp it. Does that make sense? So today tubing tangles are a symbol of survival. Be thankful in all things. It is all about perspective! I choose joy. 

Again?

The power of words coupled with truth is an undeniable life changing force.  The words we like to hear are positive, happy ones like “I love you”, “Proud of you”, “Til Death Do Us Part” Having your baby” to name a few. But then there are the hard words.  “You are fired”,  “There’s been an accident”, “He died”, “She died”, “You have cancer” to name a few more. My normal world came to a screeching stop with the C word. Fighting cancer for a year of treatment was life changing. As was the dread of hearing those three words again before every single annual mammogram.  Praise the Lord I’ve been cancer the last 18 years. But the dread lies quietly in wait each year. 

Three other words, “You have Covid”  changed my life a year ago.  I almost died and my recovery in rehabilitation was five months. I am still recovering with the need of oxygen.  And my hair grew back. And a new dread took up residence in the recesses of my mind.  What if I get covid again?  Several doctors have told me that I might not make if I get Covid again because of my damaged lungs. 

So I’ve kept my world relatively small.  I recently bowed out of a wedding and didn’t attend my grandkids’ music camp performance.  Just keeping my world as safe as possible. But it happened. A scratchy throat prompted me to test and I had Covid.  AGAIN. Sigh. 

But God quieted my fear. He reminded me that He brought me through it last year. If it is His will, He can do it again. So I just fell back on my favorite hashtag. #alwaystrusting

My family and friends prayed. My good doctor prescribed good meds that I started immediately. I kept a close watch on my oxygen levels. My granddaughter Ava came to keep me company and her eye on me. She’d already been exposed to Covid from her mom. 

This is the  fifth day and I feel normal!!! No fever  No loss of taste or smell  No headache  No bronchial issues. The only symptoms I had were scratchy throat and fatigue. I’m very thankful the worst is over. I hope so but with Covid, you never know. 

So today I returned to life. Being outside was so refreshing. Ava and I took a drive and got donuts and Panda Express. I delighted in my favorite pass time of taking pics from my car window.

So thankful for God’s mercy to me in countless ways. “Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever,” Psalm 23:6.

PS:  Dear God, could I also skip the Covid hair loss this time around?  

A year ago

 A year ago my covid test was positive.  As I looked at the test result apprehensively, I didn’t anticipate the long journey ahead. Looking back I find it hard to grasp that I almost died and half of our family got covid.  I was in a fragile physical condition when my husband died. Grieving was postponed by recovery efforts to breath and build my strength to ambulate.  Five months later I returned home and to a multitude of adjustments, emotionally and physically. 

So where am I today, a year later?  I’m still dependent on 2-4 liters of oxygen depending on my level of activity. My much needed knee surgeries are permanently off the table because of damaged lungs.  So I’m still adjusting  To things I cannot manage without help. To figuring out how to do things in a different way.  Or adjusting to the loss of things I probably won’t be able to do again.

Like walking on the beach.  Not a wheelchair friendly place   Or immersing myself under the cool refreshing water or jumping a wave.   Not quite compatible with a nose cannula and oxygen tubing. As a former Florida girl and beach lover, how do I reconcile this personal loss in my life? 

Refocus  on what I can do  Not what I cannot do   Not always easy but doable   It’s a choice. And remember.    

Every day I go to the beach in my memories   How?  The master bathroom is decorated in a beach theme  I hung a grouping of  six    favorite beach pics out of large collection of beach shots.  Long gazes of my photography reminds me of cherished times and it soothes my soul.  Memories   Let the memories live again  and a new day will begin.    

#tobecontinued

#wellwithmysoul

#alwaystrusting

Recovering and Grieving

I’ve been pondering the similarities between grieving and recovery. Recovery is a return to a normal state of health, mind or strength.  Grieving is a cause or occasion of deep distress or sorrow.  And I’ve been doing both since last September.  

Grieving is an continual journey.  The triggers of grief sneak up on me at times I least expect.  Grief cannot be measured because there is no defining end. 

But recovery is evidenced in countless ways. A gain of strength or mobility in an area of physical challenge.  Or recovery of an interest that seemed lost to you just a few months ago. A step forward. A measured progressive step. 

I’m keeping track of my recovery steps. This week I was ready to decorate the front porch and dining room with patriotic decor.  I was always into seasonal decorating except for the last six months. No Christmas, Valentine’s Day or Easter. But my state of mind took a step forward to bring out the decorations for Flag Day and the Fourth of July. It was good to embrace this personal tradition again. A little step here. A little step there. I’m recovering my life.  

#alwaystrusting 

It’s your birthday

 It’s your seventy fifth birthday. And you are gone. I am beginning to process this. I see the signs of your absence everyday. The empty chair. No frozen waffles for breakfast. No worn socks turned inside out oleft on the floor. Not hearing your daily phone calls here, thereu and everywhere. Quiet nights. No snoring  So much more is missing. You’ve been gone for six months. Yet, I’m just now experiencing the reality. The numbness is slowly wearing off. 

When I was fighting to recover from Covid, you’d always ask me when I was coming home. I’d answer tomorrow.  It was easier to say that then acknowledging the long recovery journey that loomed ahead. 

And then you had a massive stroke. I wonder when I spoke to you from my hospital bed to yours if you heard me say I loved you and it was ok for you to go. Did you remember why I wasn’t at your bedside?  Did you know how strong our three daughters were through this heartbreaking time? 

But what I really wonder about is how it was when your faith became sight.  When you were face to face beholding our Savior and Lord in all of His glory.  Did you shed your conservative side and raise your hands in worship and praise? Have you been hanging out with the disciples? David? Noah? Moses? Do you see our parents, family and friends that have gone before us?  

You and I shared life for fifty one years, from dating to marriage. We kept our commitment vows. And we kept our faith in the Lord always. Though I have been left behind, I have countless memories and photos. As I go forward as a widow, I will miss my life partner.  But I promise you, I will see you later.  

Always Trusting