Oct 13, 2024

Living in Unconditional Love (188)

 

“Love flows from God to humans without effort:

As a bird glides through the air without moving its wings-

Thus, they go wherever they wish united in body and soul,

Yet separate in form.”

–Mechtild of Magdeburg

 

My wife Eileen died from esophageal cancer in February 2020 one year after being diagnosed, 60 years after we met on Long Island. Then my brother Tom became ill (not COVID), and I spent a total of six weeks being with him in Ohio, but he died in October 2020. My sister-in-law Sue Mahoney died from Covid-19 in January 2021. On top of it all stood the pandemic, locking everyone down almost two years. Covid has proved to be a persistent problem, and many of the long-term effects are quite serious, and it has proven much more serious than flu.

10/13/2024                                                    I am writing this on October 12, my fathers’ birthday. He would have been 119 this year. I told the story of his care for my mother in the last three years her life last week, but it is also interesting how he learned how to take care of her to the extent he did. Dad was the outdoor person, and he seldom helped inside except for canning time. My parents had a “root cellar” in the basement; that is, it had a dirt floor helping it to maintain a cooler temperature and was walled off with a door to seal it off, where they stored hundreds of bottles of the many things’ dad raised in the large garden he maintained. But when mom was 88 she had a series of strokes that left her unable to do much even inside, even though she could still walk a bit and talk without a problem. They realized that the time could well come where she would not be able to help, so she taught dad all her cooking secrets. She would sit at the kitchen table and watch and tell him what to do, even baking bread, pies, and cakes, all from scratch. He continued that when she became totally unable to communicate, and even after mom’s death he continued to cook and bake until he had his own series of strokes seven years later.

I still fondly remember growing up and coming home from school to the smell of hot bread coming out of the oven. There is nothing like freshly baked bread smothered in butter. I normally don’t care for the end crust, but just out of the oven, the end crust smothered in butter —- hmmmm.

I did not see any of the northern lights this week, but from the pictures they appeared nice. I have many memories of the northern lights from growing up in Ohio in the country, and my memory seemed to recall seeing them many times, often quite a spectacular sight. I recall stabbing lights of red and green and sometimes yellow shooting up sometimes to meet at the zenith to dazzle one. Once the eyes became adjusted to the dark, and it was very dark where we lived with few lights, I would see them dart up and hold, flickering and shimmering around. Maybe my memory has embellished them, but it was not that rare as I was growing up in the 1940’s. The northern lights this time appeared to be more static and large sheets being primarily red from the photos I have seen. The one clear night I went out but I did not see anything in the clear areas I had – many areas are covered by trees and it makes it difficult to see large patches of the sky close to the horizon facing north.

We still have not had a frost, but it is cooling down and frost could occur this coming week. The garden is static and ready to be put to bed for the winter, but it still looks nice. None of my glads have bloomed in the garden, but the ones by Eileen look nice. I have brought all plants that a frost could damage into the house, and I won’t take them out until late spring next year. The bonsai are still out as the ones I have can withstand down into the 20s with no problem.

I am looking forward to my grand nephews’ wedding next Friday, the 18^th, on Long Island. I will go down to Barbara’s place probably on Thursday and we will drive to the hotel on Friday and come back on Saturday, and I will drive home later Saturday or wait until Sunday. No particular rush to get home. That may impact when my next journal is published as I will not take the computer along.

Meditation

 

 Gentle One, I place all I have in Your care. We have had a delightful fall with much warm weather, but it is cooling off and soon winter will be upon us. I place my trust in You and know that, indeed, all will be well. Your gentle prodding is on a scale that makes our short lives seem insignificant, but Your call to form Your kingdom has been persisting for millennia and will continue to the end of time.