Random Acts of "Kindness"

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A Tale of Two Mary’s

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I am a practicing Catholic. My father’s family (eleven children ) were very spiritual people — in the protestant religions. A great grandfather was a minister. My mother was a Catholic. In order to marry her, my father changed religions over his families objections.

Why am I writing this? Because it helps to give an understanding to my life.

Growing up I attended church on Sundays and attended parochial school. Raising children, although still a Catholic, I didn’t always go to church, until an event — instrumental in my life — changed my thinking. I was at the right place, at the right time, to help save someone’s life. (The story was written in both To Pap, With Love, and Journey With Me.)

Our Lady, the Blessed Virgin Mary, although always active in my life, played a hide and seek game with me — that story is also in both books. I was at Queen Of Heaven cemetery in 1991 when miracles were occurring. While I was there, I felt like I was in a rose garden, the fragrance was so strong, but few roses were in view and no one wore rose perfume. We learned later that it was a sign Our Lady was present. The silver chain on my mother of pearl rosary turned gold that day.

 Enough background — Sunday, 6/13/2012, we attended church service at our daughter’s River Of Life Methodist Church in Jacksonville, FL.

After the service, theme: Communication — Two Way Traffic  –I was introduced to Mary Ellen, a mother visiting from Massachusetts. She wore a beautiful medal of Our Lady, gold face against a blue veil, that she received from her aunt. She was raised Lutheran but became Catholic when her son was suffering from a life threatening illness. Wearing the medal, she stood praying at the sea wall when she felt two angels lift her shoulders, removing her burden.

The second Mary entered my life that afternoon at Fernandina Beach. My daughter, granddaughter and I stopped in the woman’s bathroom after a shopping spree. There was NO TOILET PAPER, KLEENEX OR PAPER TOWELS in sight. I met Mary Smith when I stepped outside. When I shared our sad story, she remembered a crushed box of Kleenex in her car which she donated to the cause.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Mother’s Day

Our plans for Mother’s Day this year changed in a heartbeat when my youngest daughter’s mother-in-law wound up in the hospital. Sue had planned to spend their anniversary and Mother’s Day in their home in Central Illinois. Instead, they travelled to Chicago with their two children and two puppies to spend the weekend at our house. While we watched their children, not only were they able to visit in the hospital,  they were able to go out for dinner and a play to celebrate their anniversary. Then three mothers were able to spend Mother’s day with their children.

Our house was no longer quiet. Our kitchen was busy, more seats were occupied at the table. We were able to take our grandchildren — three and six  — to Lincoln Park Zoo. After they returned home and quiet returned to our house I realized what a great present I received — busy, I felt like a mother. Thank you!

The next weekend, I got another surprise. Shopping at Walmart in Dixon, IL. I spotted a beautiful long dress whose colors reminded me of a peace rose. Of course, I had to look at it. It was on clearance, the only one like it on the rack and close to my size.  I had to buy it.  It fit. Happy Mother’s Day!

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Traveled Paths

I have to admit that I don’t know where I am going. Once again the path curves, what lies ahead.  Our youngest  grandson is going into first grade, his sister is entering preschool. Will our help still be needed? OF COURSE, but maybe not as often.

I have a husband, and four children — three girls and a son, all grown. Although in my writing, I share many of the events of my life, I try to keep their lives private.

Looking back over the years, it seems that once I have finished a job, another window opens up. Self publishing with iuniverse has allowed my books to still be available even though they were published many years ago. Recently, I’m getting inquiries about my first book — To Pap, With Love. I find this interesting.

Many times I have been in this situation. Many times while wandering I have reflected on the curve in the road. Just because I have help “from my friends in high places” doesn’t mean that boulders and detours don’t affect my path! No one said life would be easy.

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Wandering Again

It is summer, life is busy. A grandson is graduating from high school, a granddaughter from college. We will be there to celebrate their accomplishments.

I  know that “my friends” will travel with me, city, country or state.  Sometimes, one of my children will tell me that I left someone behind. Example: last year in Hawaii on vacation, I went out on the balcony to write a couple of post cards, our son went for a walk on the beach — the patio door LOCKED, giving me a time out. We still laugh.

Will I have time to write? Only time will tell.

 

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Good friends


Just a little “help from my friends.” I was searching for a photo of roses to include in a thought ramble. This was the first photo on the disk and the ONLY one that was not taken at the Botanic Garden. I don’t think Mabel was too happy to be a pillow.

Last year we had to send a good friend home. Both my husband and I, along with friends, miss Mabel. She had overcome challenges — breast cancer and other difficulties, but the combination of old age, arthritis and difficulty breathing coupled with a week of 90 degree temperatures was too much for her system to handle. Sue and her husband  treated her to a picnic in the park before taking her to the vets. My mind told me it was for the best. My heart didn’t agree! I knew she was on the other side with friends. Years ago I was given a gift when Shanae, our yellow lab passed. She suffered from Alzheimer’s and other issues. When screaming in the middle of the night resulted in a trip to the emergency vet and a trip home,  I saw her spirit run through the house.

l had a hard time with Mabel’s passing — until a neighbor — a doctor by profession, who knew the trouble Mabel had breathing, remarked that she could have had a heart attack when I was walking her. What would I have done? How bad would I have felt?

Memorial day is for all who have passed — our brave service personal and all who are close to our hearts.

Tidbit — now she has her own issues. Diabetes is not only for two footed people.

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CROSSING THE BRIDGE

Botanic Gardens

I have to admit that I debated for a long time. By debate I mean I voiced many reasons for not writing another book or a blog. I mentioned that many articles are written about the other side and illustrate “help” from those who have crossed over. I have read about pennies and dimes appearing, white feathers, birds, and other things signifying the presence of a loved one.  Angels have appeared to those in need. I am not alone. I saw no reason to write about my experiences.

It is evident that I lost the debate. Let me say that I DID NOT HEAR a rebutal!  But then I NEVER do. I have read that we all have a working intuition but mine doesn’t talk to me. I guess that many years ago I stopped listening.

Instead I receive answers on the wind:  spoken word, song,  on radio, TV or friends or strangers or in print. If I don’t understand or  agree, the message repeats until  it is understood. Sometimes I get hit on the head to get my attention.

The happenings over the past week have made me realize how far I have come. My interaction with the other side, although never actually seen or heard has developed to such an extent that my understanding, unless I’m being really stubborn, occurs rather quickly. I have crossed the bridge, gotten a glimpse of the other side and I really don’t want to go back.

My “friends in high places” are having a marvelous time over there. I have learned that with their “help”, I’m often in the right place, at the right time, to help someone or be “helped” in return. Evidently, I’m supposed to share this knowledge with others.

 

 

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Co-incidence??

I have self published two books through iuniverse.com.  The first book, To Pap, With Love, was written because Sue, our youngest daughter, thought our experiences living with my father’s Alzheimer’s disease would help others. The second, Journey with Me, was inspired by a friend’s son who asked how I had become so aware. Would I teach him?

After I wrote I GIVE UP, my second blog,  Carlos, from iuniverse phoned that evening to ask if he could help me with my summer book orders.

I mentioned the phone call to Sue this morning and she laughed.

HMM!

 

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROTHER

My mother and brother died in a fire when I was four. Because of the tragedy, and the pain it brought my father, we never mentioned them. I didn’t know their birth dates until after my father passed.
I seem to receive more “help” on or near an anniversary. Example: I stopped at Trader Joe’s on my way home from a shopping trip. I sampled their Beef Bourguinonne. After one tiny taste, the sample flew out of my hand and splattered all over the floor. I eat a very low sodium diet and the entree was over 900mg, a full day’s worth of sodium, Chicago’s temperature was in the 90’s. I didn’t need more sodium!

I laughed …. but I listened and cleaned up the mess and didn’t get another sample.

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I Give Up

I’m guessing that “My friends in high places” have  known about blogs for a long time. I’ve had the feeling for a while that they thought I should write one. I didn’t agree. I won’t bore you with the reasons.

When “my friends” have a project in mind that I’m not aware of, the topic surfaces often. I might read about it in a magazine or newspaper. I might hear something on the television or radio. I might hear it passing on the street. It might surface in a conversation.

BLOGS:  The beginning — Julia and Julia, the book and movie,  a blog of cooking with Julia Child not only led to a book but also a movie was the first hint. More recently — Sisters on a television program who were invited to speak at a gathering from someone  who had read their blog. Holy Week in April — in a magazine, Weight Watchers CEO wrote a blog for three years. Recently heard on Television, Judge Judy who didn’t bother with a computer but recently started an interactive site because she wanted to be part of this world. My youngest daughter, who is writing a children’s story on the Chicago Fire, started a blog. Reason – help with writing and publishing. I knew I was losing the battle when on I was downtown on a Tuesday and stopped at St. Peter’s because I knew they were doing a Novena to St. Anthony, known for his speaking ability. When I was writing To Pap, With Love, I happened to be downtown on Tuesday’s for nine weeks in a row. Confused, I knew he was instrumental in finding lost objects but I hadn’t lost anything. I learned the reason for my Tuesday’s downtown when I read that many years after his passing, St. Anthony’s tongue was still pink. Yesterday, the final straw,  another person on TV, publishing a cookbook after writing a blog.

I don’t know where this blog will lead me, but I  have begun.

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Once upon a time.

Once upon a time I thought I lived a normal life, I thought I had control of a part of it. But that was once upon a time. My mother passed over when I was four years old. She knew her daughter was stubborn and strong willed. She stayed in the background and unknown to me, helped me with my life. When my father had Alzheimer’s disease, I had glimpses that I was receiving “Help” but I didn’t pay attention. When my father passed over in 1995, I guess he was so happy when he got his mind back that he wanted me to know he was okay. He let the cat out of the bag. It has been a learning process on all of our parts ever since.

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