Soulful

Goodbye, Alice.

| Marlys

I’m just one of many people who loved Alice. She was kind–always. She was my friend, but, then, she was a friend to all she met.

Alice’s memorial service was yesterday. Even knowing she was ready, I was saddened by the thought of a goodbye. I drove into the parking lot, saw how full it was, and pulled back out. Not that I’ve ever looked forward to funerals, but I haven’t been very good with them since my dad’s almost three years ago. I figured, there are so many people there, I’ll not be missed. But as I drove out, I could tell I needed to be there. I drove around the block and came back, entering the church right as it was time to begin and sitting at the back.

Besides sharing a church and loving several of the same people due to that affiliation, Alice and I had a couple other strong connections that bound us together–Chelsea and Ashley, her granddaughters. Both had been in classes with me at Cowley College, and they were and are remarkable young women. Alice and I spoke of them almost weekly for years. She was so proud of the women they are. I don’t mean things like education and jobs, although those were always quite good as well. I mean, who they are…inside.

Chelsea and Ashley did Alice proud in front of a full congregation yesterday by speaking about who she was and how they loved her. She was a major part of who these women became in life–strong, intelligent and compassionate. I can only hope they realize how much they added to her life, too. That truth was evident in every word Alice spoke of them.

Am I glad I went? Oh, yes, I am. Mostly, however, I’m glad to have hugged and been hugged in return by Chelsea and Ashley. I could feel Alice’s smile upon us in those brief moments of connection.

Alice, you are in your well-deserved Wonderland now, and I can just imagine the joy that met you there.

When Today Meets Tradition

| Marlys

Camera in hand, I go to the Standing Bear Pow Wow with plans to enjoy the food, artwork, music and dancing. As always, I am inspired by artistry of all kinds, and I know poetry and photographs are waiting for me. The pow wow grounds are a place of ceremony, of love, of remembering the past and celebrating the present. A friend’s dad is back on the drums after having been ill. Other friends are dancing. My expectations are high and my camera is ready.

I like to be here alone. Alone in the crowd is a favorite feeling of mine when I want to think and write and shoot. Behind the crowd and to the side of the grandstand, I catch the dancers as they come by and the drummers when I see them as dancers pass. All this beauty cannot keep my attention from the beautiful ink to my left, and my camera gravitates to it, to her. I snap a few shots, noticing a young man who watches as I do so. Later, he moves to her side. I should’ve known they belonged together.

First images
Reumion

I’d rather not consider myself so much the interloper, but I am too intrigued to move on. So, between shots of dancers and drummers and kids playing behind the scenes, of greeting friends and community members who walk by, and of jotting notes on my phone, I continue to sneak shots of his couple. Then, they give me the prize, the inspiration for deeper thoughts, for poetry, for celebration.

 

Today_Tradition4
Today Meets Tradition

See it? Two beautiful people, representing all that is today, all that is modern and chic. The cell phones come out, but it isn’t to read a friend’s text or post on Facebook or Twitter. Their action is to record the beauty of tradition, and there they are–inked arms and necks–awed by the ceremony and drawn to the people who are an active part of that ceremony.

I feel their longing to be part of what is before them, to come together in a unity that only centuries of tradition accomplish. They are to the dance, as I am to them–awed at a beauty that is only partially able to be described. The rest must be felt, internally and wholly…maybe even holy. There is something sacred in a place and time where all that is today meets with all that is tradition…and there is no collision, but rather respect and love and admiration.

I did take a moment to meet this young couple. I never have been any good at being sneaky, so I told on myself while asking permission to use the photographs for later writing. There is still a multitude of poetic reflections waiting to move from my mind and heart onto paper or into a computer.

I am thankful to Meg, and her great beauty, and to Joshua, and his pull to toward his family’s heritage, for providing me with this moment in time to reflect on the past and the present in a way that is whole and lovely–just as it should be.

Today_Tradition12

 

 

 

Kids Who Die: a look backward in a backward world

| Marlys

In 1938, Langston Hughes wrote the poem “Kids Who Die”. Listening to it today made me sad at how we seem to be right back in that time period of discrimination and hate, looking for the light that brings people together rather than  separating them. I’ve added a video link at the bottom of this post, in case you’d like to hear the poem. The video is created by Frank Chi and Terrance Green, and it is narrated  by Danny Glover. I found it posted on FB by ColorOfChange. It is tough to listen to his words and tough to watch the video that accompanies it.

I, in no way, feel the majority of officers of the law are violent in this manner, but the cases are growing and our communities are either growing numb to the outcomes/outcries, or recognizing they must take a stand, or becoming so scared for their youth they feel hopeless. The tides must change. For all the dialogue of Christian values, not nearly enough is lighting a path of love for all. All. I started with a posting on FB as I reposted the video, and it became obvious that there way more I needed to think through that is heavy on my heart on the subject, so I’ve moved to this venue instead.

It seems I spend much of my time justifying why I post or repost situations of brutality by those in authority, explaining again and again that I am not anti-police, anti-authority, but rather pro-people. Stereotypes are rampant for all sides of any issue, and I do not condone hurtful ones for any segment of our population with authority over others. Some of my favorite people are in law enforcement, and I grew up around several police officers, including police chiefs, and highway patrolmen, and I am friends today with many who work in law enforcement. I am not fearful of them. I count on these men and women to protect those I love.

However, even in my community and workplace, the fear of the “other” is much more rampant than it has been for a while, and I now fear for many I know and love. Any situation, interpreted like the stereotype, could lead to death. It’s not as simple as “follow the rules” or “do what you’re told.” That, too, has led to injury and even death for many. So, yes, while I agree that stereotypes abound for all segments of our population, including law enforcement, many of these do not result in injury and death. They may be unfair, and I will speak up against those that I know are just as I do for the innocent accused in any area. But my ethical and loving heart has to first go to those who are in the line of fire even though innocent, without being trained in how to navigate those who hate and/or fear them.

With sadness, I read about mothers who have to tell their children/youth how to behave in a submissive manner, not to question anything even if they have no idea what they are being charged for, to fear the police and not to trust the community around them…the one that is theirs as much as it is mine.

Search this. Previously, it was moms worrying about their boys. Now, there are the faces of so many girls in the mix, too, that the pool of potential victims has grown. Fear has grown. Fear and hate are the weeds in the garden that will not go away. Not with the love your gardening hands bring as you tend the space. Not with the chemicals put there in attempts to rid the area of these problems. They come back more times than we can count in that garden we love. How do you move from an issue that grows so out of control people begin to think their actions are aligned with their faith?

Friends I love observe a plethora of different faiths, but the common denominator in them is the idea of caring for the poor, the abused, the suffering. None truly elevate the idea of discrimination and injury, violence and death. Those elements may be brought in by segments of their followers, Isis within the Muslim faith, the Klan within Christianity, and so on, but they are not precepts of the faith. They are people bending their faith into what they want to see in the world, into something that helps them justify their actions. That is not faith, and that is  not coming from the truly faithful.

Right now, the faithful should hurt for others. Should pray fervently for change. Should meditate to center themselves into a strong place of conviction to the actual teachings of their faith. Should encourage others to do the same. In a loving way. Not in the in-your-face debate methods found throughout our world right now.

I am imperfect in all of this, but I strive for the perfection of loving people more than material items, helping people above personal greed, and serving the loving God I know to exist in the world and in my heart.

May your compassionate hearts reach out to those in the world who may need you, and may the compassion of others find you when you are in need.

Video Link: Kids Who Die, by Langston Hughes

Shifting Sands

| Marlys

The shells glisten as I hold them,

ready to be placed where I can see them easily.

Shells glisten

in my hands

as I look for

a special place

that can hold them.

Shells sit

on the nightstand

where I can look

anytime I need to

see them.

Shells hide

behind the books

under the papers

mixed in with other trinkets

not so important.

Shells allude me

as I try to grasp themTexas_Mermaid

but my memory fades

and they slip through my mind

like grains of sand slip through my fingers.

The End

| Marlys

We begin at the end, 9/11/10

“I need to talk to you,” I say to my wife, Connie.

“No,” the nurse says as she puts the mask back over my mouth. “You have to keep the ventilator over your mouth.”

I remember how this all began on September 3, with my surgery to remove a large, aggressive, cancerous tumor in my stomach, causing pain, an inability to eat, and damaging most of my organs as it grew and attached itself to them.

Dr. Tim Gilbert, the surgeon, removed the tumor in a lengthy surgery that also repaired organs, and I’d been admitted to the hospital to recover with Gilbert and Drs. Michael Sullivan and Paul G. Hagood overseeing the healing process.

As weak as I was in the beginning, I soon began to move about some and felt recovery was progressing.

Since I’d been having kidney problems, and that was one of the organs damaged by the tumor, the kidney specialist Hagood wanted an x-ray taken on 9/10 using the contrast dye gastro griffin.  I remember three nurses, just girls really, taking me to the x-ray.  One said, “How much are you gonna give him?”  Another answered, “I don’t know how much I’m supposed to, but I’m going to give him a lot.”  That didn’t boost my confidence of the process any whatsoever.  I’m sure I was given a liter or two.

I felt sick all night, but the night nurses must have thought it was normal.  I know my family wanted more done to help me all through this time because I was failing quickly and becoming weaker and weaker.

By morning, I felt I had lost all healing that had previously taken place.  I felt horrible, if you could even say I could feel anything at that time.  Luckily the morning nurse, God bless her, could immediately tell things weren’t normal.  I wasn’t okay.  She called the doctor and coordinated my move to CCU a little after 8am that morning.  My son Todd rode the elevator with me, and Connie and my daughter Marlys walked to join us, relieved that I was headed for more in-depth care.

After a few hours, Hagood told the nurses to flush my kidneys to try to get them working again.  Connie and Marlys were asked to step out of the room, so they joined other family and friends in the waiting room.

Shortly thereafter, from the waiting room, my family and friends heard “Code Blue in CCU. We need the ER doctor to CCU. Code Blue in CCU” over the loud speaker.  They were frozen with fear.  As for me, I was floating two or three feet above my body, looking down, watching the chaotic activity below me.

The nurses are there, working frantically.  One even crawls onto the bed and straddles me.  She has a large ball-like instrument on a mask.  She’s rough.  But in the midst of that roughness, a man’s voice says, “Should I call it?”  And the nurse says, “No.”  Again he asks, and again she replies “No.”

The chaos is evident, the stress obviously intense.  But not for me.  Because I’m not in that body on the bed.

As I watch, I feel a presence beside me.  Ghostly might be a way to describe both the presence and myself during that time, fog-like.  It’s male, a spirit, I guess.  But really, I know it’s God. He’s comforting.

“Gary, it’ll be okay,” I hear more than once.  I think maybe one time He even calls me “son”, but I can’t be sure.  I may just feel that level of comfort with Him beside me.

“It’s your choice,” He says to me. “You can go on, or you can go back.”  I’m sure it must’ve been only seconds, but it felt as if I was with that presence for a long time, deciding.

I tell him I want to go back.  I can’t leave Connie yet.  Just as quickly as He’d come, He is gone.  And I am awake in the hospital bed.  With a surprised doctor and nurses looking over me.

Connie and my kids are allowed to come into the room to see me. I can see the tears and fear on their faces.

“I need to talk to you,” I say to Connie. After the nurse left the room, I removed the oxygen mask myself because I needed to tell them what happened.

“Just me?” Connie asks.

“No.” And I point that Todd and Marlys should stay.

“I died.”

“I know you came close,” Connie says softly.

“No, I died.”

“How do you know?”

“I could see myself.”

Still trying to understand, Connie says, “Were we in here?”

“No, you weren’t here. Just the nurses and then a doctor working on my body.”

“A presence spoke to me. God. I had decisions to make,” I continue. “It was peaceful. No stress.”

To make sure they understand just how peaceful this was, I tell them, “I wanted to come back, but it would’ve been okay if I didn’t.”

Epilogues

Gary:

Since that day, September 11, 2010, I’ve talked more to my family, and many others, about the experience. But it’s hard to truly describe how peaceful it was. How those few seconds changed my life. It will always be okay, I know.

Connie:

A few days after Gary was released from the hospital, we found out I also had cancer and would need surgery. It was not something we knew when Gary felt he couldn’t leave me yet, but maybe Someone else knew and just put that feeling within him as he decided.

Todd:

After we made it through the Code Blue, what I remember most is sitting in the room in CCU and watching the blood pressure numbers, which were next to nothing, slowly rise through the night—as life was restored to my dad.

Marlys:

As I record this experience, I’m reminded of the awe I felt from Dad’s moments of peace as he related being with that presence, and the mysteries of faith abound within me. It is through tears of joy that I put this to print on the one year anniversary of this truly blessed day in all our lives.

Sometimes, the end…is only the beginning…