Retreat

I was fortunate to recently attend a retreat at Holy Dormition Monastery with my husband. In fact it was my birthday present from him and from me to myself. Retreat to me means a time of quietude, reflection, rest, prayer and just being. Being is a way to listen, to reconnect with my own spirit and with God. It is a time to gain perspective, remove myself from others and from the world. I used to take books to read on retreat but I found that I didn’t take the time to read them. My entire life I have been such a performance addict, a goal oriented person, a planner; that I need freedom to just be. I first became aware of this during my treatment for breast cancer. The fatigue and nausea were so great that all I could do on some days was to stay in bed. I remember crying one day because I couldn’t even fold laundry sitting up in bed.  At that low point God spoke to my heart and told me he loved me whether I did anything or not. That was my original retreat. Learning that all I had to do was just “be” Marcia.  This knowledge has served me well in the last year since I have stopped working full-time.  Now diagnosed with fibromyalgia, arthritis and chronic fatigue following 8 years of treatment for breast cancer I am in “retreat” more and more. And it is OK with God. Many times it still isn’t alright with me and depression and anxiety take an additional toll. When that happens my lovely husband can tell that I need a little scenic break and off we go to a monastery, forest, or just a drive through the countryside. And I practice “being”.

Addison’s Prayers

I believe that those who have passed into eternal life pray deeply for us. I don’t claim to understand the connection between our world and the world of heaven but I do believe it is there.  Recently an elderly client came to my office. It was her first visit and as she told me her story and her concerns she would repeatedly glance over at my computer screen. On my desktop there is a smiling picture of my grandaughter Addison at 6 months old. The client asked me who the child was and I explained it was my granddaughter who had died from SIDS in May of this year. The client offered her condolences and proceeded to ask me many questions about what Addison was like, what kind of personality she had, was she a happy baby and the like. I politely replied to her questions but became uncomfortable as the focus of the counseling session was now Addison and not my client.  Finally I said, “Perhaps I should turn off my computer so we can get back on track and focused on you.”  The client protested, “Oh no, please don’t take her picture away. I keep asking questions because I have felt that in some way she is praying for me. I felt that she was ever since I walked in the room!”   I was shocked and asked the woman about her religious background.  She told me that she was raised Baptist but hadn’t been to church in many years.  She said, “I just can’t explain it but I think that baby is praying for me somehow.”  We continued with the counseling session and the client was very at ease by the end of the hour.  We scheduled another appointment but I never saw the client again.  The power of love and prayer is so strong. I was so encouraged by this client’s visit. It has helped me so much in my work. I don’t claim to understand our connection with loved ones that have died but I am so thankful that God loves us and gives us consolation so many times in our lives.

A Tribute to Addison Alana

In May of this year our first grandchild, Addison, died from SIDS. She was only 6 months old. We hardly had time to hold her, watch her grow, hug her, kiss her, love her and then she was gone. Our whole family is devastated. Her parents gave us the most wonderful blessing, allowing her to be baptized into the Orthodox Church. My husband and I are converts to the faith and our adult children are not Orthodox, so this was such a precious consolation. She was baptized in the ICU just hours before she died. Her patron saint is St. Helen – derived from her middle name – Alana. She has been remembered at every liturgy  in our church for the past 40 days. This past Saturday we attended the Panakhida (Memorial Service) for the 40th day. I am so thankful that I can ask for her prayers and intercessions. We know that she is with the communion of saints and believe she is close when we attend the liturgy.  It is so hard to write this and I don’t even know why I am sharing this. I am praying for all parents, grandparents and loved ones of those who have lost a child, especially to SIDS. It is so difficult to grieve and accept. Please pray for us, especially Addison’s parents. May her memory be eternal!

A Sick Day – Six Years After Cancer

I’m home sick today. Combination of the flu shot, a cold, headache, lack of sleep, exhaustion, a mammogram and cancer checkup.  I feel that the world is closing in on me. I don’t have the energy or drive of my younger years. I don’t feel as free to make changes in where I live or my job. I still have dreams of new projects, work and travels that will bring meaning to life but I have less inclination to try.  I also have more reasons against trying. I am slowing down physically and mentally. It started after my breast cancer treatment 6 years ago. I noticed the fatigue, gradual mental slowing and general aches and pains that accompanied my ongoing medical treatment. 

It has been a slow grieving process. Fear in the beginning with the diagnosis, surgery and six months of chemotherapy.  Relief after it was over. Anger and depression when I realized I was not who I was before the cancer. Acceptance and anxiety over the future with each anniversary year of survival. Pride in being a survivor at cancer events. Guilt and sadness when others die. 

I will never be the same as I was before my cancer diagnosis. Yet I am grateful to be alive and be able to work, love, worship, celebrate and create. I am looking forward to the birth of my first grandchild. I am working on my gratitude journal. I am learning to be thankful.

A Child’s View of God in Retrospect

As a child I knew God. I didn’t know it at the time but I could see God more easily then. I think from the ages of  ”I don’t remember” until about 10 years old, I knew God fairly well.  I first remember Him outside in the clouds. I had a habit of laying on my back on the ground and looking up at the clouds. I grew up in the southern suburbs of Chicago and the best time for doing this was in the Spring or the Fall. In the summer I was too busy, but the Spring and Fall were slower, lazier times. It helped that my Dad did lots of yard work. He worked and I gazed. I saw lots of things in the clouds besides God. I saw elephants, clowns, mountains, dogs, and faces of people. Fluffy cumulus clouds were the best. 

I also remember smelling God in the wind. The Spring wind was sweet and damp. Things smelled like they were growing. The Fall wind was dry and filled with smells of fallen leaves and burning leaves.  

How do I know that I was seeing and smelling God? I didn’t know it then, God was just a part of me. I know it now because these memories bring me peace. A confident “me and God together” peace. It was OK to be alone and smell the leaves and plants. It was OK to gaze at the clouds for what seemed like forever. I was not afraid then so it must have been God.

Losing Patience

I lost it again. Patience with a family member. I had worked hard on my listening skills, reflecting, encouraging. “Counselor stuff” my kids call it. But then I lost it again. I apologized and was forgiven, again. Maybe attempting to use my counseling skills with family members is unrealistic. Better to tell it like it is. Be truthful and the have the courage to speak your mind. But it is a slippery slope from speaking your mind to communication that hurts someone. The best communication techniques don’t replace love, acceptance and a peaceful silence.

But then there is this business of losing patience. Stress at work, worry about family members, worry about the world.  Stress leads to loss of patience. I prayed for patience in my younger years but I don’t pray for it any more. Patience means trials and suffering. Patience sometimes means joy that is worth the wait. But mostly patience seems to mean co-suffering. Now that I am in my 50′s I am praying for peace instead. I will probably have to change that as well when I learn more about peace. But for now I will pray for peace.

This quote by St Seraphim of Sarov is a start:

“You cannot be too gentle, too kind. Shun even to appear harsh in your treatment of each other. Joy, radiant joy, streams from the face of him who gives and kindles joy in the heart of him who receives. All condemnation is from the devil. Never condemn each other. We condemn others only because we shun knowing ourselves. When we gaze at our own failings, we see such a swamp that nothing in another can equal it. That is why we turn away, and make much of the faults of others. Instead of condemning others, strive to reach inner peace. Keep silent, refrain from judgement. This will raise you above the deadly arrows of slander, insult and outrage and will shield your glowing hearts against all evil.”

I have a long way to go. Lord have mercy.