The Trade Off

Yesterday we buried my Mother. It was more of a celebration than a funeral. Her quality of life had been poor for a long time. And yet, there is still a hole in one's heart when they become a 58 year old orphan.

There were tears and breaking hearts as my Mother's Grandchildren shared memories and the one common thread they had in each story; that she made each of them feel as if they were her favorite. My Mother was a hard act to follow. She embodied love and charity.

I held it together for most of the funeral but I could feel the panic start to rise when we pulled into the cemetery and saw the American Legion standing there with the flag waiting to honor my Mother's military service with a 21 gun salute. It was hot, and my heart began to beat as if I had been running.

Surrounded by a sea of faces that seemed familiar and yet I didn't really know, I sat next to my sister as we waited for everyone to arrive from the mortuary. The pall bearers carried the casket and set it down in front of us , then each removed the boutonniere from their lapel setting them on top.

Ava, my five year old Granddaughter was suddenly on my lap. Fireworks always hurting her ears, feared the noise of the guns and she put my hands over her ears. My head was pounding with the same rapid beat of my heart. This was it, the end. They would lower my Mother's body into the ground, all the ceremonies would be over and we would be left with just memories.

Then.....I felt two, small, cool hands lay softly upon my shoulders. It was Ryen. My tender-hearted 9 year old Granddaughter. This same Granddaughter who broke down in the hospital and sobbed the night my Mother died. The same child who texted me the next day to see how I was doing. I felt my heart begin to slow it's pace, the throbbing in my head began to dull and I began to breathe again.

Ryen was born during the last year of my deceased husbands illness. When everyday was filled with such dreaded expectation and sadness, this child, my first full blooded Granddaughter, gave me a reason to keep my heart open, to stay present, to realize that life goes on and so does love.

Not too long after my husband died, I took Ryen out to dinner, just she and I. When we went inside the restaurant it was daylight and when we left there was the most glorious sunset that I had ever seen. Soon it was dark and I made a comment of how sad it was that the sunset had disappeared. She looked up at me with her huge, round, blue eyes and said, "Don't be sad, Grandma, there will be pink skies tomorrow."

Although I love my beautiful Grandchildren equally, this child and I have a special bond; maybe even a Divine Contract. She volunteered. "'I'll go", she said. "I will be there when her heart is breaking because my heart is big enough for the both of us."

I promise to be there when love first disappoints Ryen and her heart is broken for the first time, to always remind her that the gift she brings to the world heals, inspires, motivates and emulates that of our Maker. I will always tell her that her life has a special purpose, that she is humangelic, part human, part angel. She was born to spread love, soothe the downhearted and remind us all that loss will always have a trade off. And sometimes that trade off is in the form of a beautiful Granddaughter.

I will teach her the importance of keeping her heart open, no matter what, because love is the only thing that is real, and will heal. And that her special heart.....is big enough for the both of us.

You Think You Are Ready...

Tonight at 9:55, we allowed my 87 year old mother to die.

Dad died in 1988 and Mom has wanted to die ever since.

She was the spunkiest woman I have ever known. She was a Sergeant in the Marine Corp. during World War II, and made it clear to my sister that she wants a 21 gun salute at her funeral. My sister offered me the flag because she has my Dad's, but really, that doesn't interest me. I don't want anything that reminds me that there ARE wars in the world.

I don't want anything that reminds me that we allowed her to die.

She taught me that the word "shit" was one of the most powerful words in the English language but for it to maintain it's power, it must be used in the most appropriate circumstance. She taught me to always do hospital corners when I made a bed. She taught me to stick up for myself and that I could DO anything or BE anyone I wanted to BE. She taught me to NEVER be intimidated by anyone.

She was a stickler when it came to using proper English which in turn made me a stickler with my daughters. All this became a gift to me. Like polished buttons on a marine jacket, she polished my rough edges. I became a woman of strength, substance, opinion, and discipline. And yes, one who uses the word "shit" in the most appropriate of circumstances.

I'm not sure what happened to my Mother's spunk, but for the last few years she had given up on life. She sat in a chair and read book after book until her eyes went bad, and withdrew a little further when her hearing started to go. Creating Hell between her ears, she existed in a quiet world which was ruled by fear and worry.

She lost a down syndrome baby at three months old, soon after giving birth to stillborn twins. This cut the wind from her sails but she pulled herself together creating a successful career at a local hospital. She was the boss and it suited her.

We butted heads while I was growing up. She was overprotective which I really did not understand until much later, after I had my own children and realized how tragic it would be to lose one of them.

Actually she was the perfect choice to be my mother. By bumping up against her values, religious believes, her fear and worry, I discovered myself. Our debates forced me to read and study, to meditate, to ASK for Divine guidance, to seek my own truth, to find my own inner peace and to never fear or worry about the unknown.

She lived with my sister and when they would vacation I would take care of her. I would spend days trying to teach her about the power of thought and how we create our own reality and she would really "get it." I made her watch "Life is beautiful" every time she stayed with me. The problem was that she had dementia and would forget as quickly as I would teach.

Tuesday morning my sister went down to my Mother's apartment and found her on the floor between the bed and the wall. She had fallen and broken a hip.

The paramedics arrived with their sirens on and transported her to the hospital. Her health was poor to begin with and because of the blood thinner she took everyday to avoid blood clots, they postponed her surgery while they gave her frozen plasma to thicken her blood. During the night, her kidneys started to fail as did her heart. Her lungs began to fill with fluid and the decision was made to try to get her stronger and healthier before they did the surgery. Then the medication influx began but the one that was to clear her kidneys did not work. We were told that once the anethesiologist got her under, they may have to leave the tubes in indefinitely. She could throw a clot because of her history of clots which was exacerbated by the fact that they had to thicken her blood. I could see the train wreck before it happened.

She spent the day talking about her experience in Netherworlds, about times in the past and about people in the present who had left this world long ago. She asked question after question that were impossible to answer because they were preposterous. She told the Respiratory Therapist that she was mad at him and the nurse that she owed her a dance. She told my sister that she could walk on water and wondered why my sister could not.

We spent the day looking for rehabilitation centers, finding out about veterans benefits for hospice care, and worrying about the warnings we had received from the doctors of all the things that could go wrong with this high risk surgery. Each time the doctor would come in there were more warnings, more symptoms, more questions for us to answer.

And then.... The doctor came in and mentioned another option. Stop all the medication and keep her comfortable. He finally came clean with the truth. If they removed the oxygen, she would not be able to sustain life on her own.

My sister and I, without having to say a word, looked at each other and knew what she would want us to do. We gathered all our children and grandchildren to say goodbye.

It took much longer for nature to take it's course than we had hoped, as if she was saying, "I'll leave when I get damn good and ready." Eventually, that old broken body let her go and the room was filled with peace. The doctor came in to pronounce the death and praised us for making a decision that was in our mother's best interest, but after watching her fight death for one hour, neither of us felt praiseworthy. We signed papers, gave instructions, went through all the motions in a fog. After the day we had just spent my mind was mush.

But as we finished up the loose ends and walked to my car, I had to think to myself, "You know...I think she really does walk on water."

I love you, Mom. I imagine Dad taking you by your healed arthritic hands and pulling you close; twirling and laughing and flipping your skirt to show off those beautiful legs that you were always so proud of. I am so at peace to know that you and Dad are together again, right where you belong.....

What If???

ON RELATIONSHIPS…..

• WHAT IF you had no expectations?
• WHAT IF you could be ALONE without feeling lonely?
• WHAT IF you placed no agenda or projected the future onto budding relationships?
• WHAT IF you allowed a relationship to evolve at its own pace?
• WHAT IF when someone left the relationship, you didn't feel rejected?
• WHAT IF you could have your needs met outside of a ROMANTIC relationship?
• WHAT IF you don't have to give up yourself to be loved?
• WHAT IF everyone could be your soul mate?
• WHAT IF everyone you met was assigned to you either to teach you or learn from you:
• WHAT IF you became emotionally available by learning about yourself?
• WHAT IF there isn't just ONE "TYPE" of person just for you?
• WHAT IF you stayed in a relationship when you felt commitment anxiety..... Until you worked through your fears.?
• WHAT IF equality could be maintained in a relationship if each had a strong sense of their OWN individuality?
• WHAT IF you could AGREE to DISAGREE about issues that cause conflict in the relationship?
• WHAT IF You redefined gender roles?
• WHAT IF power and control were not necessary?
• WHAT IF winning an argument was not important?
• WHAT IF divorce wasn't failure?
• WHAT IF divorce had the potential to free you from an unsatisfactory relationship, allow you to DEVELOP as an adult and CHANGE in gratifying ways?
• WHAT IF sometimes, divorce is positive and necessary and can result in greater personal contentment, increased self-esteem and healthier levels of psychological functioning.?
• WHAT IF you are only alive to learn how to LOVE and FORGIVE?
• WHAT IF WE CHANGED OUR BELIEFS AND EXPECTATIONS ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS

I Am Like Him That Way

I was one of the lucky ones. I had a father who loved me and KNEW that LOVE WAS A VERB. His style of loving was through service. I am like him that way.

He always believed in the best that I could be and always saw the best in others. I am like him that way.

He would say "hello" and would strike up conversations with strangers. I am like him that way.

He loved everyone. Judgement was not a word in his vocabulary. He didn't buy into social status, ethnic differences or religious barriers. He saw all races as the Human Race. I am like him that way.

He worked hard for his family who always came first. (After his Spiritual Growth) I am like him that way.

He always was in competition with himself, to become better than he was before. To ever be his "Personal Best". I am like him that way.

He had ADHD, though back then a thing like that was never defined. It created his drive, his excellence, his creativity, it expanded his mind to where ordinary minds will not go. I am like him that way.

I lost my Dad in 1988. He was on the run, driving down the freeway when an aneurysm burst in his abdomen and he bled out in the median, in 20 minutes. His main concern was that he pulled off the freeway not to cause an accident, and when the paramedics arrived, his concern was for them, telling them he would be "all right".

Of course, I didn't make it to the hospital before they had closed his eyes and covered his head. I didn't get to say "goodbye". But as I walked to my car from the emergency room door, I heard him call my name. He said it with a rare inflection that was undeniably recognizable.

I had just divorced the year before. I had lost my faith in men in general, always comparing who I was dating to the man I held on a pedestal. He was the last man on earth who I REALLY trusted. My grief was unbearable for awhile. The injustice of it, that he had worked so hard all of his life, never getting the opportunity to retire, relax and enjoy life.

One day, while these thoughts were floating around in my head, I heard his voice. He said, "Terri, my death was my reward. I accomplished what I was born to do. Learning to love well is all there is."

Yes, He had learned to "Love Well". And I will spend the rest of MY life trying to be like him that way......

It's All In How You Frame It.

The other day, someone said to me, “You have had a really tough life.” This comment surprised me, I thought that I had given up all the old stories years ago, but here was someone mirroring for me what they saw to be my truth; that damn mirroring technique that God created is so powerful when we recognize it for what it is. Mirroring shows us what is still lurking in the recesses of our sub-conscious mind. And it is always about us and the way we see ourselves. Really. The person was referring to my divorce, raising three young daughters by myself, financial struggle, and the pre-mature death of my second husband preceded by the difficulty of raising 7 teenagers (4 of whom did not have my blood running through their veins). Opening a business and losing hundreds of thousands of dollars to a dishonest business partner forcing me to to close the doors. Yes, I did experience these things but it is not the experiences that define me.

I imagine myself in my pre-existence before I incarnated as Terri Kennedy sitting at a computer writing the program for my life. A program which would teach me the lessons I still needed to learn using an algorithm of choices; A program that insured that any choice I made would result in my growth. Growth can be seen as messy or as an ever expanding, changing set of circumstances that repeat until we get it right. And when we get it right? And we hold our power? There is nothing that feels quite as wonderful. I look back on my life and the path of choices I walked, all of it, the good, the bad and the ugly. Now, I see a beautiful path of golden light sparkling with knowing, shining with triumph, glittering with growth. How I got here is irrelevant. I let the experiences of pain and trauma go to embrace all that they offered me; such amazing, splendid gifts. I am who I am because of where I have been, but where I am going is what concerns me now.

So when this person made this comment to me, I responded automatically, “My life has been triumphant! I have amazing, grown up daughters and step-sons, brilliant grandchildren, a partner who "gets me" and many friends all who surround my life with love.” What more could I want? What I want is to be a fully realized Human Being, to keep climbing and learning no matter what experience life throws at me. Bring it on!

Look at your own life. Drop the story. Find the sparkling gift hidden within it. And always remember the secret to finding peace and happiness is ALL in HOW you frame it!

Dance for Him

Oh Mom, I wanted this one chance

To be one chosen here to dance.

I prayed my name was on the list

but I was one who was dismissed.

My pirouette was flawless

My hair the perfect style,

I looked the judges in the eye

And did my polka with a smile.

I watched as others made mistakes

While I remembered every stance.

But the other girls were chosen

So today I will not dance.

Why did God not hear my prayer?

My request was very clear.

I did my part to do my best

And still he did not hear.

I dare not think His love for me

Is less than all the rest,

But still I will not dance today

He has denied my one request.

My darling dancing daughter,

God heard your whispered prayer.

He loves you like the others.

Please don't think God doesn't care.

God wants to make you stronger

To build your character and depth.

I am sure that He was with you

And shed his own tears as you you wept.

He feels your hurt and sorrow

And he's there to ease your pain.

He'll burn within your soul

to give you strength to try again.

From now on you'll practice harder,

Until you'll ache from every limb...

You may not dance today, dear one.

But someday you'll dance for Him.

Pink Blossoms

Occasionally, I am stopped by an incident in my life that motivates me to look back at all the synchronistic, coincidental, tragicformational happenings that had to have taken place for me to arrive right here at this moment. Every time I do this, I am blown away by the hand of God in my life. There is no other rational explanation.

Sometimes the incidents are simple. Someone needs information and I have the answers. Why would this person ask me the question? And WHY would I have the answers? Why was I there at that particular moment to answer the question?

Sometimes the incidents aren't so simple. Like when my late husband came home from a doctor appointment, telling me that the doctor wanted to run more tests. Showing me his palm he pointed to the muscles which had started to atrophy. Quietly, without fanfare, a symbol flashed through my head of a woman's hand. A woman I had known and learned to love; a woman who had died of Lou Gehrig’s disease. There was nothing similar about the way the hands looked. The disease manifested completely differently in this woman. It was a strange little vision.....but I knew exactly what it meant.

I looked into my husband’s eyes and said, "You have Lou Gehrig's disease." As I look back on it now, it was a crazy thing to blurt out to someone. Four months later, the doctors had ruled everything else out and uttered to him the acronym, ALS, for the first time.

In that four months, we were able to purchase life insurance. At the time, His sons, from his previous marriage were the beneficiaries of the policy he had in place. We had only been married 4 years when this incident took place and hadn't done any of the legal work for the second family.

He passed a physical with flying colors. He had never been a drinker, a smoker, never even had taken prescription medication. We purchased a policy that would pay if the policy owner lived three years. He lived three years and 4 months from the time the policy took effect.

I have started to listen to my guardian angel. She is never wrong. She may even be me as my Higher Self.

I remember one time during the deterioration of my husband’s healthy body, feeling as though I couldn't make it through it. I had raised three daughters alone with little financial help. I had to get creative. I created my own business. I got my older daughters working; my oldest as a model who did print work for one of the large department stores in Utah. My middle daughter had been doing local theater without pay for several years, even though she was cast in the leading roles. I found her an agent and she began to do commercials, TV movies and feature films. When she was 8 years old, she made more money than I did that year. Even with all of our creativity, we struggled financially. I gratefully don't think my daughters ever knew it.

I was tired. It is hard being both mother and father to children. It is a job that never provides a paid vacation. Once I re-married things had just started to feel like what I thought "normal" was supposed to feel like. Now this.

I had changed careers twice in my life. I had recently given up my business and was taking care of my husband full time. The thought of starting over again was just as paralyzing as the disease ravaging my husband's body. That was just the tip of the iceberg of my emotions. That was just in the periphery of the heartache that comes from watching your robust, healthy husband lose the use of one muscle group after the other. I couldn't do this, I wasn't strong enough. I had already done all of my struggling, hadn't I?

These were the thoughts on my mind as I parked my car on the street and crossed the parking strip to visit my mother in law. It was spring time, the sun was shining and the sky was a deep computer screen blue. There were three trees planted in the strip and they had just begun to bloom; white puffy blossoms of promise. I looked down at one of the tree trunks. At the very bottom of the trunk where the bark is the thickest, there they were; PINK blossoms poking their daring heads right up through the bark! These delicate, beautiful blossoms had found the strength to find the sun. And so could I. And I did.

There are many ways that the Universe speaks to us. It can be in the form of a meaningful image in our head, a voice in our head, a gut feeling that won’t let go or a simple object lesson, like brave blossoms showing us the way. We just have to stay clear and aware that messages are all around us if we have the eyes to see, the ears to hear and the heart to believe.

Life will continue to throw us a curve. We may have to start over many times in our life. Starting over gives us the opportunity to learn new lessons, explore new horizons and most of all, grow!!

Don't curse the recession, your job loss, the break up with a lover or a spouse. Life is all happening FOR you, not TO you. Always look under the surface of every situation or incident that seems to tear you apart; actually, they are putting you back together in a more complete way.

Our prayers are answered not when we are given what we ask but when we are challenged to learn deeper spiritual lessons that teach us to become the person we were born to be.