Several nights ago, Patrick and I watched “Casa Blanca” again. I have seen it no less than thirty times and most likely a lot more. I had received a text from Bill saying “Casa Blanca starts in 15 minutes” and when I got to the Living Room, Patrick had the TV on and ready to go. Hmmm, I am predictable.

It was on TNT and the hosts were talking about all of the quotes from the movie and how the dialog in this movie was so clever and witty and yet it was still able to tell a sad but hopeful, inspiring story. 

I love old movies.  Especially those with clever and memorable dialog and quotes.  They connect me to my Mother. 

Mother has lost so many of her memories; I try very hard to remember for her.  Things she taught me and that we talked about so many years ago are rekindled when I watch one of her favorite movies or hear a favorite song of hers.  It is a connection to the “Mama” that is still in there, just hard to access.

Mama loved books and both written and spoken words…and more than any “thing” that she could have given me, she has made me a lover of words as well.  Years ago, she and I would read “Bartlett’s Quotations” and talk about the meaning of our favorites.  I still have the large hardback copy she gave me, probably to keep me from borrowing hers! 

Not long ago, I watched “Gone with the Wind” and that is my Mother’s all-time favorite movie. I imagine it is because she was a teenager in Atlanta when the movie premiered. When I was little, she would tell me the story of “Gone with the Wind” and she would describe in detail the costumes, the sets, the dialog and the characters. I knew the story and what it would look like before I saw the movie the first time.

Her favorite character was Melanie.  I think the goodness and kind spirit appealed to her and she aspired to have that goodness. 

Mother’s descriptions were so vivid that when I actually see the scenes in the movie, I can hear her describing them.  The party at Twelve Oaks and Scarlett eating surrounded by all of her “beaus” is a special one.  Mother’s description of the green and white dress Scarlett is wearing and the doe eyed Charles Hamilton’s reaction when she chooses him to get her dessert, makes me smile.

There are many other favorite parts of the movie and Mama and I have spent many hours, discussing, describing, enjoying and savoring the memory.  Sometimes the discussions were more enjoyable than actually seeing the movie.

Because of the uncertainty of today’s world, I find comfort in the familiar.  An old movie, a special song, a memory of when life was simple and afternoons were spent with Mama, both of us talking non-stop, laughing, and philosophizing about what was and what could be. 

Now, Mama is only able to verbalize pieces of her memories.  Sometimes when she is quiet and I see her sitting peacefully, I wonder if she remembers.  I like to think she does, maybe not all of the “pieces” but that it is pleasant and gives her some joy and peace.  I will continue to remember for her.

One of Mama’s favorites that I memorized years ago.

“There is a destiny which makes us brothers;

None goes his way alone

All that we send into the lives of others

Comes back into our own.” Edwin Markham

Thank you Mama for all that you sent into my life.  I love you.

Peace and Love,

Linda

I have been “staying at home” since I returned from Georgia on March 6. I have only ventured out for essentials that we could not get delivered and then only a quick trip out and back home. I am fortunate to live in a pleasant house in the Valley of the Sun.

It is now the evening of May 11th. I am still searching for meaning in all of the recent events and am optimistic yet still feel trepidation about the future.

I am taking a six week online course on Relationships, Communications, Needs, Wants and Change. It started as a diversion to keep my mind occupied during this time at home. I did not expect any life altering changes to my life, but as a life long learner, I thought it might enhance understanding.

I have started several “Musings” for my blog in the last few months, but just couldn’t get them to completion. I have had a running dialog with myself, in my head. I have thought about my life and the class has brought back memories and events of my life that have strongly influenced how I feel and function today.

When I was a young adult and still looking for my Fairy Tale, I was told by a person who knew me well that when I was a little girl I imagined how everything in my life should be and anything less or different was unacceptable. Some fifty years later, I think that is absolutely true.

Since I moved out of my parents house in 1967, I have lived in fifteen houses, apartments, townhouses and condos. Some moves were by choice and some because of circumstances, but all of them were part of the search for my Paradise.

Change is inevitable and I have been told by someone who lived in Hawaii, that when you lived in Paradise everyday…it wasn’t paradise anymore.

Some of the times I have moved to another home were a move up to a better place and better circumstances and some were a step back. I have moved a lot, but I still consider myself a nester. Even places that I lived for a short time, I have attempted to build my safe space. Eventually I have realized that in my quest to have my Paradise, that it is not a place but a mindset.

There have been times when where I lived and the other aspects of my life aligned and I felt very close to achieving that world that I imagined as a little girl, but each time something changed and it was gone.

Of course, there were times when I was discouraged, disappointed and had to start over. I have learned that my Paradise has to be flexible and must exist in what I call my inner space, that place in my head where I interpret and frame the events and circumstances of my life.

I struggle, of course, because I am a perfectionist and still believe it is possible to always grow and improve. But the Paradise I seek now is Peace. I want to know that I have used what spiritual, intellectual and material gifts I have been given and that the world is a better place because I am here. I want to be actively grateful. I want to find Paradise in all places and all circumstances.

I want to move past the frustrations, cynicism and sadness and see a Glimpse of Paradise in day to day living. It is hard, maybe impossible but this old girl will again refocus and seek “Just Another Day in Paradise”

Patrick and I are currently working on a DIY project. We have undertaken redoing the kitchen cabinets. We are doing it in sections, stripping, sanding, painting and new hardware.

We are both working on the project, however we usually don’t work on the same thing at the same time. I find myself spending a lot of time working alone and thinking. It is a pleasant time and stirs up memories of other projects I have worked on as well as stories of others who have influenced my DIY inclination.

I am fortunate to have had two Grandmothers who were strong, self sufficient women. I did not have a Grandfather that I remember, but both of my Grandmothers lived long, full lives and were in my life until I was an adult.

They were both do it yourself women, long before it was trendy and without the benefit of HGTV, Google and You Tube videos.

Both of my Grandmothers continually updated and improved their homes. They did a lot of the work themselves. They were often helped by extended family and I think they probably influenced not only me but probably my parents, aunts, uncles and cousins.

I am sure they were motivated to “do it yourself” because of limited financial resources, but I think it likely they also enjoyed the work, the sense of accomplishment and seeing the end result. Their generation needed to be self sufficient and they were willing to work hard to better their life and their home.

This afternoon I was painting cabinet doors on the kitchen counter and I thought of one of my favorite stories about my Grandma Dean.

My Grandma Dean, is my Dad’s Mother. She lived past her 101st year. I did not find out until after she had passed on that she was a real “Rosie the Riveter” assembling wings on Navy planes during WWII. She was the most peaceful person I have ever known. If something went wrong or broke or didn’t come out as expected, she would shake her head and say “it doesn’t matter” and it was forgotten.

Grandma Dean and my Mother had a special bond. They were “in-laws” only in name. Through the years their love for each other and mutual respect was obvious. They both excelled at story telling. My Mother called her Mother-in-law “Mrs. Dean”. Mama said she was once asked why she didn’t call Grandma by her first name. Did she not like her Mother-in-Law? Mama said she loved Mrs. Dean and she knew Grandma loved her. I think it was a matter of respect and admiration.

As the story goes, my Grandmother was painting her dining room. My Mother was there helping Grandma paint. I remember my Grandmother’s Dining room in the house that my Daddy lived in as a boy. It wasn’t a large room, as I remember, but had a table that was dark, probably mahogany, a buffet and a China cabinet. I remember the buffet and the table being in the room. I don’t remember the placement of the China cabinet but I know it must have been there, as it still exists today.

I am sure the room was crowded. Mama and Grandma were painting and Grandma somehow knocked over the can of paint. I can imagine her immediate reaction was “Oh my goodness.” (That was the strongest reaction I remember her having to anything.) According to Mama, Grandma hurried over to the buffet and pulled out a gravy ladle and started ladling the spilled paint back in the bucket.

Mama said that she was shocked and said, “Mrs. Dean, that is your Sterling Silver Gravy Ladle.”

Grandma’s calm reply was, “Honey when I am painting, nothing is sacred.”

Thru the years one or the other of them would tell this story. Grandma enjoyed laughing at herself.

A simple story, my memories are of the retelling.

My Mother and my Grandmothers were three women who greatly influenced who I am.

Thank you Grandma Parish for showing me how to be strong and persevere.

Thank you Grandma Dean for showing me how to be grateful and “not sweat the small stuff.”

Thank you Mama for pushing me to always be the very best I can be.

Love and a Peace.

Linda

Today is my birthday. I am 71.

I was born January 31, 1949, at Crawford Long Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia. It was a Monday morning.

Those are facts, the rest is the story that has been repeated for many years on many birthdays. It will not be retold this year. My parents are unable to tell the story.

It is my wish to record what I have been told by my Mother.

I was a wanted, planned child. My Daddy had returned from the Pacific after World War II, to a much loved eighteen month old son. My brother was born while my Dad was in the Army, deployed to fight the Japanese.

According to my Mother, they both wanted another child, even my brother was excited and dubbed me “the new kid” before I was born.

My Mother, three of her sisters and one sister in law all had babies between July 4, 1948 and January 31, 1949. In the Parish family, we were known as the Famous Five and grew up more like siblings than cousins. I am the fifth born of the Famous Five and the only girl.

Mama has said that during her pregnancy with me she felt beautiful and with much anticipation waited for me to be born. All of my cousins were born and she was the last to deliver.

She awoke early in the morning on January 31 and knew it was time to go to the hospital. She and Daddy awoke to an unusual ice storm. The plan was to take my brother, then four years old, to stay with my Grandmother. So Daddy left in the ice storm to take my brother to Grandma’s house leaving Mama to wait for him at their apartment. My brother was delivered safely to Grandma’s house to await the arrival of the “new kid”.

Daddy returned to take Mama to the hospital, carefully navigating the icy streets. I was born fairly quickly after arrival. At some point the hospital lost power because of the ice storm and Mama has told me that the hospital had a generator and I was born on “auxiliary” power. (Hmmm…auxiliary power? Could that be the cause of some of my quirkiness?)

Apparently, I was a difficult birth as I was not “folded” in a fetal position and there were some problems with my legs and hip joints. I have never quite understood the exact problem but I know that I slept with sand bags holding my legs in place for some time.

My Mother has told me she was quite upset and concerned about my legs, but her sister, my Aunt Juhn, came to the hospital, talked with the doctors and reassured Mama that I would be just fine. I have often wondered if my “unique” gait and crazy legs are a result of my unusual birth, but it was the forties, my legs looked normal so it wasn’t considered a problem.

It was Daddy’s first experience with a newborn and I have pictures of him holding me and it is obvious that I was (and still am) Daddy’s girl.

It is reassuring to know that I was loved and anticipated before I was born. My brother and I are still close and thru the years he has reminded me that I was the “new kid”.

If Mama or Daddy realize that it is my birthday, I hope they will smile and remember the good times and all of the birthdays we have celebrated.

Thank you for being my parents and wanting me and loving me.

Peace and Love

Linda

Today I had the opportunity to pack boxes at the food bank with members of the car club. It was just a two hour shift working on a pack line in the warehouse. It was fun, a lot of laughing and joking.

Before we started, one of the staff at the food bank asked the large group of volunteers, “Have you ever been hungry?”

My answer, like most of the other volunteers, was “No”.

Yes, I have gotten busy and missed a meal or needed to go to the grocery store hungry, but never, never there was no food hungry.

What a blessing to be almost 71 years old and never been hungry. Yes, some years have been leaner than others but always sufficient food. Everyday of my entire life!

My Mother grew up during the depression and when her Dad died, my Grandmother was left with six children to feed. This time in my Mother’s life (as I calculate about six years) must have been more difficult than I can ever imagine.

She has, through the years, told me stories and expressed that if you have ever been cold and hungry, it is so deeply imprinted on you that you are always fearful it will happen again.

She was always the first to fill boxes of food for the needy because she would say “I have been the child who would not have had a hot meal if someone had not packed boxes.”

Some of her stories were amusing, she said when she was a child she didn’t know that people ate oranges or nuts except at Christmas because she only had them when the Church or a charity brought the “Christmas Box”.

She would also tell of the time they received a whole chicken and her mother was working and she and her older sister did not know how to cook it, so they got a big pot and boiled it. When her Mother came home, it smelled good and Grandma was so relieved they had food for Christmas dinner.

This is the way she remembered and her gratitude to the unknown generous people who helped her family has lasted a lifetime.

She now doesn’t remember these stories, but her concern over her siblings having enough to eat is still there. Last week when I visited her and my Dad, I stopped by Steak ‘n Shake to pick up milkshakes for them. They are in an Assisted Living facility and meals and snacks provided, but they always like a treat from the outside.

Daddy and I went over to the Memory Care area to take Mama her milkshake. She was having a good day and was glad to see us. I told her I had brought her a treat and she was very excited. She wanted to be sure that Daddy and I had a milkshake as well and offered to share. We told her we all had one and she was pleased that hers was chocolate and just for her. She wanted to know if anyone else was coming to the “party” and did we have enough for everyone. I told her it was a small party, just the three of us.

She drank every drop and said it was the best milkshake she had ever tasted. She talked a good bit and I realized she thought I was her sister. She suddenly became concerned that there would not be food for dinner and wanted to know if I had been able to get meat and who paid for it. I reassured her that her dinner was being prepared, she could eat all she wanted and it was paid for. She then asked about “milk for the children” (I am sure she was referring to her younger siblings. She was the second of six and she and her older Sister frequently took care of the younger ones.)

Daddy and I told her that we had bought milk for everyone and she did not need to worry. How traumatic her life must have been, that eighty plus years later she is still concerned that she and her siblings will go hungry. So many memories are gone, but that still concerns her.

And so today, when the question was asked “Have you ever been hungry?” I thought of my Mama and my Grandma and Aunt Juhn and Uncle Larry and Uncle Harry and Aunt Colleen and Aunt Janelle.

Somewhere in Phoenix, some child is hungry, some Mother does without to buy milk for her babies, some elderly person has no hot meal. I have done so little and have been given so much.

Today was for you Mama!

Love and Peace,

Linda

It was a perfect day!

There was nothing extraordinary, nothing earth shattering…just a simple perfect day.

It is good to have a day at home, with no obligations and no plans. A day to do whatever seems to be important.

It started with sleeping until I was ready to wake up. I like to start the day slowly. Open one eye and then the other. The house is quiet. Patrick is up before me, he is probably checking out the news.

Winston is waiting for me to get up. I give him a treat and pour a glass of OJ. A few games of Toon blast and Winston and I go out in the backyard.

It is warm for January and I start sweeping up leaves. In Phoenix it takes several months for the trees to drop their leaves. We have Chinese Elms in our yard. One very large one and three smaller ones. We also have a beautiful grapefruit tree that is heavy with fruit. I have picked a couple and should have fresh grapefruit for the next month.

There are piles of leaves that I have swept. I go in and change into jeans. I have decided that there is too much to be done in jammies.

I soon have the blower out and the piles of leaves are growing larger. I sweep and pick up until the can is full. It is warm and the sun is bright. The back yard is all “neated up”. It is very calming to see everything picked up. My world is orderly again.

I decide to have lunch on the patio. A ham sandwich outside in January; I love Phoenix in the winter!

The kitchen is calling me. I enjoy cooking. I decide to make soup, Vegetable Beef soup in my favorite enamelware pot. There is something special about that pot. I have had it about twenty years. I have moved a lot in the last twenty years and a lot of things have gone away but the blue enamelware pot has survived. I start the soup; we went to the grocery store on Sunday and I have all of the ingredients. Fresh garlic, onion, stew meat, peppers, mushrooms, potatoes…I like the chopping and the preparation.

I frequently make soup in the crock pot but today, this perfect day, I will make it on the stovetop. It is bubbling and the smell fills the house. It is comforting, the warmth, the rich red tomato color. There is sometimes more satisfaction in the cooking than the eating.

Winston and I decide to walk around the block. It is still warm outside. The short days of winter make it necessary to walk earlier. I am a lover of sunshine and daylight. Once the winter solstice is passed, I am glad to see the days grow.

When we return, I eat my soup. It is hardy and delicious.

Patrick has a dinner meeting. He will be home later. I put up the leftovers, he will have soup tomorrow!

I put out the food for the feral cats.

It is dark. I reflect on my simple perfect day.

My life will continue to have its challenges and frustrations and disappointments.

But occasionally, I wish for a simple perfect day!

It’s the last day of 2019.

Although I have a large extended family and a circle of friends, I will welcome the New Year alone. This is a result of circumstances as well as choices, both mine and others.

A year ago on this day, I contemplated my goals for 2019.

I wanted to learn to speak Spanish, write a weekly blog post, start a workout program, practice yoga…

I accomplished none of the above.

Why?

I call it the “multiplicity” of me!

Those were goals of the inside me. That idealistic, motivated LINDA that lives in my head. That is the Linda that sees no obstacles and methodically works toward goals marking them off as accomplished.

The year was overtaken by the other Linda’s.

A lot of 2019 was spent as Linda, the daughter. My elderly parents had a rough year with lots of changes for them. I spent over three months of 2019 in Georgia, a lot of it in crisis mode. I am in Georgia now and spent the afternoon with Mama and Daddy. It was a nice visit.

Mama was talkative today and she smiled. I didn’t understand all of what she said, but she seemed to enjoy the interaction. When I left, I took her in for dinner and she tried to introduce me to the ladies at her table. She said “this is my daughter”, WOW, just for that moment she knew who I was.

Daddy wanted to be sure I was bringing his Alabama shirt so he could wear it to watch the game. I will watch with them tomorrow.

Maybe it is appropriate that I should begin the New Year in Georgia.

I enjoyed being Grandma during 2019. I got to spend time with my oldest Granddaughter during one of my crisis management trips to Georgia. She came over and helped me for a few days. What a joy to have an adult Granddaughter (actually I have two adult granddaughters, and two that will be adults soon). I have seen my other Granddaughters for a few hours here and there. Even though I don’t see them often, they are always in my heart.

I have become a soccer fan, thanks to my two oldest Grandsons. I enjoy watching them play and have now learned more about the game. They brought me an official soccer jersey from Barcelona. I even watch the occasional soccer game on TV.

We did an escape room with my older Grandsons and their Mom and Dad. We didn’t escape but we did work together well and had fun.

I spend a lot of time with my youngest grandson who is three. We like to read books together, play cars, build houses and garages with different types of building sets and play with playdoh. One of our favorite things to do is to make Playdoh planets. His favorite planet is Jupiter, because he likes to use a lot of Playdoh to make it very big!

He promises me that one day he will be an astronaut and go in a rocket ship to the moon and he will take me with him. We talk continuously when we are together and his imagination is contagious.

Linda, the wife, took a Caribbean cruise with my sweet Patrick, a first for both of us. And thanks to my generous children, we saw The Rolling Stones last summer.

We started learning new recipes and enjoy cooking together and even took a Sushi Making class on the ship.

We took a 4000+ mile road trip from Phoenix to Acworth in my old Jeep with Winston the dog. We discovered we are more resilient than we thought and that we can be in a car together for three days straight and actually enjoy it (for the most part!) LOL

There have been challenges, disappointments and sad things. There has also been fun, joy and laughter.

Things seem overwhelming at times. But each day, I will endeavor to seek peace and practice kindness.

In a few hours the new year and new decade will be upon us. I will not make New Year’s Resolutions. I will be open to what comes and live in the present.

One of my favorite New Year’s Eve Memories – I was about eight, so my brother Pat would have been about 13. We were at home. Pat had one firecracker and I had a paper whistle. Daddy said he wasn’t going to stay up for me to blow a paper whistle and for Pat to light one firecracker and Daddy went to bed. Mama was more whimsical, and she sat up with us watching the clock and promptly at midnight we lit the firecracker and blew the whistle. Then we went to bed. It is a fun, silly memory.

There are other New Year’s Eve memories…parties with the Parish clan, sparklers, once Mama made party hats out of crepe paper for everyone, adults and kids.

As midnight approaches, I am reminiscing about things that were and things that were not and how different from what I expect each year becomes.

The words of one of my favorite songs runs through my head.

It talks about how “the human spirit’s struggle against inherent frailties and external pressures often results in futility. That’s all right though, because, it’s the effort that counts.”

“Like a Bird on a Wire

Like a drunk in a midnight choir

I have tried in my way to be free”

May you all find a Peace in the New Year!

My almost 96 year old Mother has dementia/Alzheimer’s.

She was very excited to receive Christmas gifts from her Children and Grandchildren.

She wasn’t sure about it being Christmas, but she looked at every gift and card and was delighted. She loved the wrapping and the bows and the flowers and candy that were sent.

She told me she needed to send Thank you notes to everyone who sent her something. She asked me over and over who sent the gifts and why?

Anyone who knows Mama will tell you she has written notes, cards and letters all of her life. As I have been going thru her papers, I find volumes of her life story along with poems and other writings.

She still has her desk and her note paper and cards and pens. She struggles to make the connection on how to use them, but will take out everything and look at it and stack and re-stack.

I asked if she would like for me to help her write some notes tomorrow. She said that would be so good.

I know she can still read, don’t know if she can write, but we will give it a try.

It is my honor and pleasure to help her with this lost art.

I am witnessing the last remnants of a generation that learned and used the social graces such as note writing, gratitude and sending cards.

There are a lot of memories lost, but she still remembers to say Thank You.

I love you Mama!

I wrote this after a trip to Acworth in June 2016.

Although I moved to the west in 1989, my Southern roots still run deep.

My first 40 years in the South were very influential in making me who I am.

“American by birth, Southern by the Grace of God”

Love and Peace,

Linda

It is my last night back in my beloved Georgia and I take a walk on the trail to the lake. It is late evening and the sky is cloudy. The air is heavy and damp as always…after so many years in the West I am acutely aware of the difference in the way it feels.

I will miss the peace of the lake trail. There aren’t many people on the trail, but as I round the corner to cross the footbridge, I see two hammocks that have been hung in the trees and there are two young women talking and laughing. They say hello and I stop to talk to them.

I am now at the lake and the evening fishermen are on the dock and there are a few fishing boats on the lake. Children are on the playground. People say “hello” and “good evening” and “how ya’ll doing”. I pass a man in an Ohio State shirt and he says hello. I can’t resist a “Roll Tide” and he laughs.

As I start back up toward the little town of Acworth, I look one last time at the things that are so Georgia…the baskets of flowers hanging on the mail boxes, the screened in porches, and the kudzu growing up the telephone poles. I am sure that in some places the kudzu has grown a foot since I walked this same route twenty four hours ago.

I am almost back and if I listen I can hear the sounds of evening, the crickets and the birds chirping their good nights. I look down the street and see it not as it is, but as I remember southern nights. I am a barefoot little girl running through the yard and squealing with excitement as I catch lightning bugs. Maybe there is one last bike ride before dark and Mama calls me in.

Those summer nights seemed endless and even now they are magical.

(From March 7th to March 30th, I was in Georgia at my parents home. My Dad, at 98 years old, had a pacemaker “installed” on the 7th. My Mother has other issues of aging and requires 24/7 attention.

During the three plus weeks I was there in addition to daily chores to keep things going there were two hospital stays, two ER visits, two Urgent Care visits, one dentist appointment and five doctor appointments.

My brother and I are their only children and we both live in the West and are at least four hours away by plane.

My parents have been faithful supporters of the organized Church as long as I can remember. They have supported their local Protestant Church for the last seventy years both financially and by their service.

For the last thirty-three years they have been members of a Methodist Church only a few blocks from their Home. Until a few years back when they became physically unable, they attended Sunday School and Weekly Worship Service on a regular basis. They have continued to financially support the local Church as well as various charities.

Through the years my Mother has taught Sunday School, both adult and children’s classes, Vacation Bible School and lead various Prayer Groups. My Dad has served on the Church Board as well as other committees. I have witnessed their service in visiting the sick, the home bound and those in need. They have helped with shopping and meals where needed, while they were able.

During the three plus weeks I was there, there were only two times that there was outreach from their Church. That was not only appalling to me but very upsetting to my Dad.

At ninety-eight years old facing heart surgery, he needed and wanted his pastor to pray with him. A close friend of my Dad’s notified the Church of the situation. Friends and family were praying and my Dad and Mother were prayed for by many who didn’t know them. No representative from the Church showed up for the two days my Dad was in the Hospital.

The following week another call was placed to the Church by a friend. Shortly thereafter the Assistant Pastor called at the house for a short visit. My Dad was cordial, much more than I would have been, but said to me “I needed him last week.”

On the 26th of March my Dad was again admitted to the hospital because of an infection that had developed. There was concern that in his current condition that the infection could spread to his blood stream. By that time, my brother was in Georgia, and he was spending time at the hospital with our Dad, while I kept things going with our Mother.

Sometime during that time, their pastor stopped by the hospital and left a note that my Dad was sleeping and he didn’t want to wake him up.

That was the extent of outreach through today. I will say that there have been calls and inquiries from several individual Church Members who are friends with either me or my parents. Extended family have stepped in and helped. Their current caregiver stayed with them until she was relieved by family.

People have sometimes inquired of me why I no longer participate in the organized Church. Although I am open to attending services with family and friends, I have become more and more disillusioned with today’s organized Church.

I value my spirituality, my belief in Jesus Christ and pray daily for strength, forgiveness, gratitude and for peace…both peace in my life and peace in the World.

I am appreciative of those who were helpful and supportive of me and my parents during this time.

In the New Testament , the term Church was used for both the local community of believers and the overall collection of Christians.

So who is the Church?

Marlene, my Mother’s caregiver who saw that my Dad was taken to the hospital and stayed with my Mother until I could get there.

My cousin, Dan and my daughter in law, Michelle, who went to the hospital during my Dad’s pacemaker surgery.

Family friend, Buddy, who stayed in touch and prayed for us.

Other extended family members and friends who helped with suggestions and prayed for us.

Kennestone Hospital Cardiac Care and Surgical Team, ER staff and various doctors and nurses, who have been kind and gone way beyond expectations.

Benny, Alex and Jenae at Enterprise Car rental, who helped me by getting fees waived when I didn’t get rental car returned and were kind and helpful, when I explained the situation, in getting the rental rate reduced.

Family members who helped pay some of the extra expenses of the past month.

What all of the above mentioned did to help in this time of crisis, renewed my faith in the human race. I knew that prayers were being answered. It is impossible to express my gratitude to all of you.

And to the organized Church, I ask…

Where were the people who visit the sick and the shut ins?

Where were the people who bring meals to those in need?

Where were those who sit at the Hospital with those who fight for their lives?

Where was the Shepard to comfort the worried?

It is my hope that this was an isolated incident and my purpose in calling it to everyone’s attention is that each of us as individuals examine our own spirituality and how we respond in times of need. Maybe the “organization” has lost it’s focus, I am grateful that individuals have not.

Love and Peace.

Linda