Category Archives: inspiration

Apr3

Dogwood Legends

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A tree, a flower and a symbol…

My dogwood tree is starting to bud.  Tiny but recognizable cross-shaped blossoms are emerging from its scraggly, thin branches.  On this Good Friday, I can’t help but think about the symbolism of the dogwood tree and the speculations of how it came to appear the way it does today.

I grew up hearing various legends and poems about how the dogwood was thought to be the kind of tree from which Jesus’s cross was made.  I am not a historian, botanist or scientist, so I have no concrete basis to assert whether or not these legends are true.  But when I look at the humble dogwood, I can see distinct symbols.

The dogwood’s most distinctive feature is its cross-shaped bloom which emerges every spring.  In the center of each blossom is a round green cluster thought to represent the crown of thorns placed on Christ’s head.  The edge of each of the four petals, or bracts, has what looks like a small tear or rip, and that rip symbolizes the tearing of Jesus’s flesh by the nails in His hands and feet and the spear in His side.  This rip is usually tinged with a reddish-brown edge, symbolic of His shed blood.  White dogwoods signify the purity of Jesus and His perfect atonement on the cross, while the pink dogwood is thought to blush in shame at being the tree used to build the cross.  The leaves of the dogwood turn a mottled red in the fall, again symbolizing the blood of Christ.

According to legend, the dogwood once grew tall, strong and sturdy, which is why it was chosen to be the tree from which the cross would be constructed.  After the crucifixion, the dogwood’s shame was such that it never again grew in a way that would allow it to be used for such a horrible purpose. Instead it grows into the smallish, gnarled tree we see today.

I marvel at the humble dogwood and its many reminders of the sacrifice Christ made on the cross, for me, for all.  Skeptics can say that all the symbols depicted are mere coincidence, and I suppose that is possible.  All I know is that, for me, the dogwood serves as a poignant reminder Christ’s life and death.  He paid a debt He did not owe, because I owed a debt I could not pay.

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Mar26

The Queen Of The Snot People

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Springtime in East Tennessee and the glorious paradox…

The Dogwood Trail signs have gone up in Knoxville in anticipation of the Dogwood Arts Festival and the beautiful springtime blossoms that are on the way.  The Bradford Pear trees are already blooming.  If sneezes had a face, the Bradford Pear would probably be it.  The temperatures are moderating, and after the crazy winter we endured during February, the change of season is a welcome one.  But spring does bring its own set of seasonal allergy symptoms.

I’ve suffered with hay fever for decades, as many East Tennesseans do, and different seasons with their various kinds of plant life will cause different symptoms.  Eyes that itch/sting/water, sneezing, drippy/stuffy noses, headaches, fatigue, coughing, congestion…and crankiness.  Even the dog has allergy symptoms in the spring and fall.  We do what we can to keep on top of his sneezing and itching with medication.

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As a singer, I try to stay on top of my allergies as well, because the mixed multitudes of mucus that happen make a difference in how my voice feels and sounds.  It is a constant balancing act of antihistamines, decongestants, hydration and prayer!  Years ago, I went to my family doctor, affectionately known as Dr. Awesome, for yet another sinus infection and he came into the exam room and asked how I was doing and why I had come to see him.  I replied, “I am The Queen of the Snot People!”  He roared with laughter, checked my ears, nose and throat, gave me prescriptions and said he loved how I described my symptoms.  (I figure I might as well keep a sense of humor, especially at the doctor’s office, because usually that’s the only thing I can control there—modesty and dignity usually fly out the door!)

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Here’s the thing, the glorious paradox.  As snotty as I am this time of year, it’s worth it to be able to enjoy the incredible beauty of God’s creation.  The winter is giving way to spring’s vibrant color in flowers, grass, trees, and the returning birds and bees.  My senses can rejoice in the glory of nature all around me, in sight, sound and scent.  How blessed I am to have the chance to take in such great majesty in even the tiniest of these miracles.

Gracious Lord, thank You for the loveliness of Your creation.  And thank You for each sneeze reminding me that my immune system works!  Forgive me when I complain and keep me mindful of the beauty all around me.

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Mar11

My Hundred Pound Present

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A reminder of the miracles of weight loss…

For anyone who may not be aware, I underwent weight loss surgery on June 6, 2012.  The process for this was a long and arduous one, filled with moments of both humility and humiliation.  As I wrote elsewhere, the hardest part of the whole thing was making the decision to do it, because I had to “suck it up and get humble for a minute”.  Admitting that I needed help was a difficult thing, but, as most weight loss surgery patients will agree, it really was my last resort.  After battling my weight for decades and finally deciding one last time to begin exercising and eating more wisely, I started that process only to lose 9 pounds before getting stuck and then injuring my “good” ankle (the “bad” one having been broken years before and then surgically reassembled).  Weight bearing exercise was impossible and I realized I needed a drastic intervention to help me reclaim my health.

Surgery prep happened during the same period I was completing an extended unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at our local teaching hospital.  The timing was totally a God thing, and I am convinced that each effort enhanced the other.  My unit of CPE placed me in a peer group of strangers who poured unconditional acceptance and support into me throughout both my hospital experience and the concurrent surgery preparation, becoming treasured friends and chosen family by unit’s end.

My hundredth pound came off on January 6, 2013, which in the church calendar is Epiphany.  That’s one sure way I’ll always remember the date, because it was an epiphany indeed!  It was also my 7-month surg-i-versary.  More pounds came off in the months that followed, and I was grateful for every one of them.  I still am, even though I have experienced some “bounce-back”, as many weight loss patients do.  I am working to get the pounds I want rid of to go away once more.  It’ll be a lifelong process, as will blood tests for nutrient levels and tweaking my nutrition.  I knew going in that these things would be part of The New Normal.

I decided I wanted to treat myself to a Hundred Pound present, to commemorate my journey and to have a tangible reminder of God’s faithfulness along the way.  So the search began for my chosen symbol, a small diamond cross pendant.  I knew what I wanted, and as a lifelong jewelry horse, I was a pretty savvy shopper.  It took a while to find just the right thing…but, like losing that hundredth pound, it was worth waiting for.

The thing is, I’ve never been one to wear a cross.  For a long time, I just couldn’t bring myself to wear the symbol of crucifixion.  I realized over the years, though, that the cross is a symbol of faith, hope and new life, not just a picture of Christ’s torture and death.  What better symbol could I choose to remind me of my own hope and new life than that?  And what possible symbol could be a better reminder of God’s constant companionship, comfort and help along the way as I adjusted to The New Normal?  What better reminder of second chances and redemption?

Because, for me, the weight loss journey has been very much a spiritual odyssey.  There has been a lot of prayer, especially during those early days after surgery, when my recovery took longer and involved a lot more pain than I had anticipated.  There have been many long nights of the soul when I cried and leaned into God because I had come to the end of myself.  And as I have experienced bounce-back and regained a few of the pounds I had lost, there is renewed prayer that God will help me minute by minute to make wise choices, and that He will comfort the hurting places that I want to feed with unhealthy foods.

I wear my cross often, usually paired with a diamond heart that Sweet Pea gave me for our 15th wedding anniversary.  My fingers find their way to my charms throughout the day, touching them and remembering the love, comfort and hope they represent.  Thanks be to God for second chances!

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Feb18

Suspended Animation

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When stillness happens…

I live in Knoxville, Tennessee.  Dixie, The Buckle of The Bible Belt.  This is The South.  We get the occasional snowfall here, but we are not used to ice.

But here we are, iced in due to a winter storm that dumped sleety frozen pellets on us this past Monday and now is dropping snow on top of the ice.  Record low temperatures are predicted for tomorrow night and much of the city has come to a halt.  Many schools are closed as well as a number of businesses.

I ventured out last evening for a rehearsal with Knoxville Choral Society, as we have concerts scheduled this week with the Knoxville Symphony Orchestra, and if at all possible, the show must go on.  The roads at that time were not any trouble to navigate.  My only issues were getting the ice chiseled off my car and eventually getting the door to my fuel tank un-frozen.  It was good preparation for returning to work today.

Monday I was not scheduled to work, and Sweet Pea was sent home early from his job.  It was wonderful to be tucked in safely at home with husband and dog, snuggled under blankets watching TV.  For those few hours, there was no place anyone had to be.

There is a quiet sweetness in moments like these; it almost feels as though time has slowed and the world is in a state of suspended animation.  I know that it can’t last forever.  The quietness eventually gives way to the return of noise and activity, and I have to emerge from the cocoon of icy stillness.

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Feb12

Heart In Hand

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Living my life the only way I know how…

Valentine’s Day is upon us once again.  Sweet Pea and I have not made any special plans to celebrate the occasion, and that’s fine with me.  I am working on Valentine’s Day and I’ll be happy just to get home and spend the evening together watching Netflix.  Pizza Palace spaghetti might be a nice touch!

Many of my single friends are bewailing their uncoupled status as the day approaches.  Maybe I take being in a relationship for granted…but I think of Valentine’s Day as a time to celebrate all kinds of love, not just the romantic-candles-and-roses kind.  Case in point—my friend Anna sent me a cute and thoughtful Valentine earlier in the week, an expression of friendship in a Snoopy card.  Certainly not romantic, but I appreciated it just the same.

Valentine’s Day brings to mind images of chocolates, flowers and, of course, hearts.  So many of our day to day figures of speech refer to the heart, like wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve, or being tender-hearted.  Heartbreak, or heartache, is something familiar to us all.

I tend to live my life with my heart in my hands.  I’ve tried other ways of living, trying to close my heart after having it broken, trying to shelter it behind an emotional wall of protection.  But living that way was, for me, like being half dead.  My heart is most comfortable extended toward the people in my life who matter.  My husband, my friends and my family members who love me unconditionally all cradle my heart with gentle, tender care.  Their love gives me the courage to extend my heart to others who may or may not respond.  It’s risky to live with my heart in my hands, but for me, there’s really no alternative.

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Dec24

Meditating On These Things

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Appreciating excellence…

It is 2:30 am on Christmas Eve 2014 as I write this.  My day began with me asking a friend with whom I had lunch plans for a raincheck, because I got up with a thundering migraine.  My body was finally rebelling against me for the week I had put it through!

Last week Knoxville Choral Society and The Knoxville Symphony Orchestra once again collaborated with several other ensembles for the annual Clayton Holiday Concerts.  They traditionally take place the last weekend before Christmas, and the week leading up to them has us all rehearsing every night except Wednesday, pulling late hours and, for those of us who work day jobs, rising at our normal times to get to work.  The week is grueling and exhausting, culminating in 4 concerts over 3 days…but for me, and for many others, it gives us much more than it takes from us.  For some people, it is the thing that finally puts us into the Christmas spirit.

This year’s concerts were also the final holiday outings with the KSO’s outgoing conductor, Maestro Lucas Richman, so there were poignant memories of concerts past, appeciation expressed for the collaboration between the KSO and KCS and, as is my tradition, pictures and brief conversations with the maestro.  This year was  doubly sweet for me because my cousin Katherine shared the stage with us as a member of the Webb Madrigal Singers.  I was thrilled to share a stage with Katherine and her talented friends, and even more thrilled to have the chance to introduce her to the maestro before he leaves the KSO.  I had my friend Elizabeth snap their picture together with the hope that it’s a weekend that Katherine will always remember.  (The picture below was made at supper between Saturday shows.)

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In conversations on social media and in person, many of us said that we are going to miss the maestro, and he expressed his gratitude for our words.  I had the chance to tell him that I don’t “sling praise around much, but when I see excellence in my life, I do appreciate it.”  And yes, I said it with just those words.  Maestro knows by now that I am a goofball and “what you see is what you get” with me.  Mama passed along her gift for colorful communication to me (for better or for worse, I’m afraid!).

Thre is so much mediocrity in the world, and I am as guilty as anyone of not always striving to attain my full potential in every area of my life.  I like to believe that I give my best effort to everything I do, but I know better.  And even on days when I give my best, that “best” is often not very good.  In music and in life, I need to meditate on those things that are good, noble, praiseworthy…and to give thanks to, and for, the people who remind me what excellence looks like.

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Nov19

Thanks

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Reflections as Thanksgiving approaches

 

 

Gracious God

Lover of my soul

Maker, Sustainer, Redeemer and Friend

I give You

Thanks

 

Thanks that I and mine

we who are so few

have been blessed with so much

while there are so many

who have so little

 

Thanks that we are warm and dry

healthy and fed

and loved

 

Thanks for all those

who have come before us

teaching us how to live

raising us up to know You

before they left us

to go Home

to sit at Your feet

 

Thanks for so great

a cloud of witnesses

who await us there

 

For glimpses of Heaven

here below

 

I give You

Thanks

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Nov6

Good Days

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The blessings of being refreshed…

Yesterday was an epically great day.  It was fabtacular!  It was, in fact, blogworthy, for several reasons.  So I want to share my day with anyone who might happen to read this post.

The day started with a simple pleasure, a sweet-smelling bubble bath.  I had won an eBay auction on some shower gel in a favorite scent that has been discontinued, and my bottle of aromatherapy had arrived in the mail on Monday.  My nose, skin and mood were pampered by this simple indulgence, so the day started off great and only got better.

Yesterday was also the much-anticipated day of the Alton Brown Edible Inevitable concert tour stop in Knoxville at The Historic Tennessee Theatre.  I looked forward to this for months.  Not only did he do his show, he announced a “flash signing” at the venue in the afternoon.  I was able to go, get him to sign my Granddad’s antique butcher’s apron and have a photo made and a chat.  He seems to be a genuinely nice guy.

I am a huge fan of Alton Brown, Food Network fixture, creator of the program “Good Eats”, chef, author, food scientist, TV show host and Peabody Award winner.  He also plays guitar and is quite the comedian.  His live shows have received great buzz on social media with good reason.  They are hilarious!

The tickets went on sale the day after my chorus and I arrived in New York City last June for our Carnegie Hall performance, which I wrote about in previous posts.  At breakfast in the diner before our first rehearsal, I was freaking out and melting down because I was unable either by phone or on the Web to get through to any site or venue to purchase show tickets.  A flurry of texts and e-mails to Sweet Pea followed, and with some effort, he was able to procure tickets, FINALLY.  So I was able to relax and enjoy the rest of the New York trip and focus on the music and memories being made there, while anticipating the Alton Brown show coming in the fall.

I had met Mr. Brown 4 years ago when he was on-site at work for that year’s United Way kickoff.  I still can’t believe that whoever planned the event managed to keep it quiet until he was actually on the premises.  I had the chance to meet him and chat, and have a photo with him.  The one I am sharing here is from my boss’s Blackberry.

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Ensuing years brought, among other things, weight loss surgery for me, as well as lots of other changes, including menopause, deaths of loved ones and hitting the big 5-0.  So I approached yesterday’s photo-ops with gratitude, and a little trepidation because looking older is not a prospect that brings me joy.  Fortunately, I think the pictures turned out all right.  (Believe me, I’d never share them otherwise!)

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It was also manicure and haircut day.  Again, simple indulgences that can do wonders for a girl’s mood, self-esteem and sense of well-being.  My friend, “Queen” Elizabeth, introduced me to the place I now go to get my nails done, and as it happened, yesterday she had an appointment scheduled not long after mine.  So visiting with her was an unexpected treat as we both had our hands transformed by the experts at the nail salon.  Elizabeth is a source of wonderful positive reinforcement and a bubbly friend, a joy to be around.  Seeing her yesterday was a sweet surprise.

From there it was haircut time with Brianna, who always gives me cute hair and makes me feel good about myself.  I think a good hair person is as important as a good doctor, and for many of the same reasons.  They fix a problem and make me feel better.

After the haircut I had a little time before the show, so I was able to go by Lola’s and check on the house.  I’ve been going by there about once a week just to make sure things are OK.  When I got out of my car, I saw a small downy feather floating down across her front yard just a few yards away from me.  I was rooted to the spot as I watched its slow-motion descent to the ground instead of chasing it.  Once it landed and I was able to snap out of my haze, I did try to find the feather on the ground, but I wasn’t able to.  I think it might have been Lola’s way of letting me know she was with me, because I felt her presence as I watched that feather floating through the air.

From there I went to Pizza Palace for spaghetti and a t-shirt (the shirt is something I’ve been trying to get for almost 2 years and has eluded me for whatever reasons!) I picked up one for me and one to take to Alton Brown as a souvenir of his stop in Knoxville.  He seemed happy to receive it and asked me where his pizza was!

The show was hilarious and I laughed until my face and throat were sore.  Today I’ve been able to rest and enjoy a quiet day snuggling with Our Boy Roy, listening to gentle rain and reading.  In the mail today I received a wonderful surprise, a “mailable hug” from my talented friend Katie Jo.  She has started a campaign of sharing hugs via the mail and social media.  I am sharing my hug here and in every other way I can.

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Share this hug with everyone you know.

#thehugproject

#spreadhugsnothate

I told Sweet Pea last night that I almost felt guilty for having such a great day and enjoying it so much. He looked at me and said, “You’ve been through some @#$%.  You deserve a great day.”

I think we ALL deserve a great day.

Oct29

Arms

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Memories of embraces past…

Tuesday, October 28, 1997 was one of the worst days of my life.  It was the day Mama went into the hospital.  It was the beginning of the end, of Mama’s life and of an era in our family.

At this time, on that night, I was at the hospital to spend the night with her.  It was a bad night for us both, for numerous reasons.  She was nervous and agitated, and the medicine given to calm her down only upset her stomach.

There are lots of things about her last month and a half of life that I’m sure I’ve forgotten.  I was still trying to work during most of that time while staying as many nights as possible at the hospital.  Sleep-deprived and stressed out, I know there are lots if things I don’t remember now.  But I remember some moments with vivid clarity.

I remember people’s arms around me.  I remember the night Mama’s condition was so bad that they had to bring  a portable ultrasound up to her room because they needed to do tests and didn’t want to wait for transport to come and take her down because she was so unstable.  Jeff had come to visit both with her and with me, and her condition upset him.  That was his meltdown moment during the last of her illness.  He cried like his best friend was dying and I couldn’t offer him much comfort.  We just held each other.

Dad had spent Mama’a last full night with her at the hospital, and I came the next day to relieve him.  He left and I settled in to spend what turned out to be her last day at the hospital with her.  She was unresponsive, and not too long after I got there her breathing changed.  I know now that she was actively dying.  A nurse came in and asked how long her breathing had been like that, and I said about a half hour.  The nurse then told me that I could talk to Mama, hold her hand and pet her if I wanted to. She said she didn’t think Mama was in any pain and that she didn’t think anything was going to bother or disturb her now.  She told me she would check on us during the day and if I needed anything at all to just call.  She put her arm around my shoulder and just stood with me for a few minutes, saying nothing more.

Countless times during her hospital stay, people hugged me, squeezed me tight and infused me with strength for the battle.  Guardian angels from my own family held me close as we all cried with sadness over what Mama was enduring, and what we all knew was to come.  I never take a hug for granted anymore.  I know the difference it can make.

After Mama died, at the graveside after the service was over, people were starting to disperse and leave.  I sat by her casket for what seemed like the longest time, by myself.  I knew the cemetery people would make me leave soon, but I wanted to spend those last few minutes with her.  My cousin Van, a favorite person in my life who I don’t see nearly often enough, came over and sat down beside me.  He didn’t say a word.  He just put his arm around my shoulder and sat with me.  I never felt more loved, more understood, than I did at that moment.

Many times I have leaned on the arms of other people for strength and comfort.  I hope that my arms have provided strength and comfort for the people in my life as well.  I believe one of the most powerful ways God loves us is through the love of other people. As I have leaned into the arms of other human beings, I have felt the everlasting arms of God spoken of in the old hymn from my childhood.

 

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Lord of love, thank You for holding me with the arms of the people You have sent me when I needed them most.  Use my arms and hands to comfort, strengthen and encourage the people in my life who need to feel You in theirs.

Oct22

We’ve All Got Something

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Sharing burdens…

My left arm and shoulder look totally “normal”. At least, the skin there looks normal. It is unmarked by anything except age and the looseness resulting from shrinkage following my weight loss surgery.

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My right arm and shoulder, however, look quite different. I have a rare skin condition there called lichen sclerosus et atrophicus (LSA).

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I first noticed a strange-looking little patch of shiny, white skin when I was about 20 years old. Mama noticed it too, and I remember her being terrified that it was psoriasis. She took me to see a dermatologist, who performed a biopsy to make sure that it was not cancer.  Then he gave me the diagnosis of LSA and said that in all his years of practice, he had only seen a couple of cases.  Then came the parade of students, nurses and other lookers-on to view my skin, because, “This may be their only opportunity to see this condition.  It’s that rare.”  Several times since then, that scenario has repeated itself as doctors ask me if I mind their nurses and med students coming in to take a look.  I don’t really mind if medical professionals want to see it, as long as they treat me like a human and not just a disease.

Looking back, I wish it had been something as common and as treatable as psoriasis. I don’t minimize the seriousness of psoriasis; it can be a devastating condition. But at least people are familiar with the term, and there are treatments for it.

My condition is much less common, and much less treatable. There is no known cause, and the only known treatment is a specially-compounded testosterone ointment or cream which may or may not be covered by health insurance.  The testosterone treatment never helped me anyway, so it doesn’t matter that my insurance doesn’t cover it.

The affected skin does not behave like normal skin.  The LSA penetrates through to the deepest layers of the dermis.  When exposed to the sun, it doesn’t tan.  Sometimes it hurts.  Occasionally a patch of the affected skin will break open, but it doesn’t bleed.  It weeps.  And sometimes it itches, the kind of itch that makes me want to scratch at it with a fork!

The condition gradually spread down my upper arm and up toward my neck.  It expanded to roughly twice its original area when I was about 40 years old, I suspect due to my changing hormones around that time.  But that’s just a guess.

I am really fortunate as far as LSA patients are concerned.  Over 90% of cases are located on the patient’s genitalia, and the condition often impairs urinary/excretory and sexual functioning.  So I am blessed that it’s just on my arm and shoulder.

Why am I sharing all of this?  I guess I just needed to remind myself that we’ve all got something…some scar, pain, fear, disappointment.  Some burden we carry.  If I can be open about my burdens, maybe I can be more sensitive to the burdens of other people.  Maybe I can even share them.