Monday, June 7, 2010
NOISE and a NICHE
I was in a busy department store this morning. While my daughter shopped for make-up, I found the book aisle. Among the loud noises of intercom announcements, children running and yelling and customers calling out to one another, I was happy and at peace in my quiet niche. I felt the spirituality surround me in my chair while I read many a book cover, loving the touch of the paper.
NOISE and a NICHE
I was in a busy department store this morning. While my taughter shopped for make-up, I found the book aisle. Among the loud noises of intercom announcements, children running and yelling and customers calling out to one another, I was happy and at peace in my quiet nice. I felt the spirituality surround me in my chair while I read many a book cover!
Saturday, June 5, 2010
DON'T WORRY
"Woke up to tremendous pain all over. This is when I am strongest in my spirituality, knowing I am not carrying my
cross alone, that God is right there, telling me, 'Good morning! Don't worry. I will keep you company all day long!'
It's great to feel His closeness on these extra special days!"
cross alone, that God is right there, telling me, 'Good morning! Don't worry. I will keep you company all day long!'
It's great to feel His closeness on these extra special days!"
Friday, June 4, 2010
GRADUATION
Watched my 18 year old graduate this morning, while sitting in my wheelchair and looking out on the football field where the graduates sat. God had the sun shining upon us on this memorable day. Many blessings to all the graduates, feeling the spirituality surrounding them as they venture forth!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
DELLA
While attempting to de-clutter,my summer goal,I ran across an article on one of our town’s older elementary schools. I have no idea why I saved the article, as I never attended it. However, I did go to the junior high across the street from this elementary school, allowing me to visit Della’s Place, located in the back alley of Wood Gormley Elementary. Life was innocent and carefree back then. During the lunch break, all of us could leave our campus and walk over to her little store, no adult supervision needed.
Della’s Place was more of a good-sized tool shed than store, dark green in color. There was a plywood front door, painted in the same shade of green, only kept secured with a small padlock when Della wasn’t there. It had a few pane windows, and inside she had painted the three or four picnic tables a bright sky-blue, as well as the walls and floor.
I don’t know how all of us fit in her place every lunch, but we did. We could not wait to buy the penny-candies she had behind her glass counter, or one of her 15-cent hot dogs, served on a Popsicle stick, right out of the constantly boiling pot of water. Rumor was that she would get the Popsicle sticks out of the trash and use them again the next day. This brought forth many a broken stick after the hotdog was consumed, just in case it was true. Of course, there was no such thing as a state health department coming over to check on sanitary conditions.
Della was a feisty woman. She had bright red hair and wore huge rhinestone earrings. She would tell us they were diamonds, though no one believed it. I do not recall her voice ever being a calm one, as she was always calling out to someone to be quiet or to wait his or her turn. We all loved her just the way she was, looking out at us behind her giant glass frames.
The saddest thing about graduating from junior-high was the end of our visits to Della’s. There would be new kids coming to visit the next year, breaking the Popsicle sticks, calling out to Della to give them a hot dog, and Della calling out in turn. She served generations of families.
Della got too old to run the store one day. She closed up shop and that was it. The back of her store faced the yard of a family home, the owner of the property. The store went back to being a tool shed. I know I was not the only adult who would take a walk through the alley in later years, reminiscing about times with Della.
New owners bought the home and planned to tear down their shed, having little idea of its history. As it was a permanent structure, a building permit was required before they could go through with their plans. They were in for a shock, as the locals in town were outraged at such a thought. Della and her building were pieces of history! How could anyone even think of destroying all those memories! The Historical Review Board spent many months arguing that though the building was about to fall down, it must remain.
In the end, the owners won their case. They received permission to tear down its walls. If those walls could talk, what stories it would tell! Rather, we must be the ones to share the stories. We will keep Della alive, as she brought joy to thousands of youngsters, all through her ‘no bigger than a minute’ store of penny-candy and hotdogs.
Della’s Place was more of a good-sized tool shed than store, dark green in color. There was a plywood front door, painted in the same shade of green, only kept secured with a small padlock when Della wasn’t there. It had a few pane windows, and inside she had painted the three or four picnic tables a bright sky-blue, as well as the walls and floor.
I don’t know how all of us fit in her place every lunch, but we did. We could not wait to buy the penny-candies she had behind her glass counter, or one of her 15-cent hot dogs, served on a Popsicle stick, right out of the constantly boiling pot of water. Rumor was that she would get the Popsicle sticks out of the trash and use them again the next day. This brought forth many a broken stick after the hotdog was consumed, just in case it was true. Of course, there was no such thing as a state health department coming over to check on sanitary conditions.
Della was a feisty woman. She had bright red hair and wore huge rhinestone earrings. She would tell us they were diamonds, though no one believed it. I do not recall her voice ever being a calm one, as she was always calling out to someone to be quiet or to wait his or her turn. We all loved her just the way she was, looking out at us behind her giant glass frames.
The saddest thing about graduating from junior-high was the end of our visits to Della’s. There would be new kids coming to visit the next year, breaking the Popsicle sticks, calling out to Della to give them a hot dog, and Della calling out in turn. She served generations of families.
Della got too old to run the store one day. She closed up shop and that was it. The back of her store faced the yard of a family home, the owner of the property. The store went back to being a tool shed. I know I was not the only adult who would take a walk through the alley in later years, reminiscing about times with Della.
New owners bought the home and planned to tear down their shed, having little idea of its history. As it was a permanent structure, a building permit was required before they could go through with their plans. They were in for a shock, as the locals in town were outraged at such a thought. Della and her building were pieces of history! How could anyone even think of destroying all those memories! The Historical Review Board spent many months arguing that though the building was about to fall down, it must remain.
In the end, the owners won their case. They received permission to tear down its walls. If those walls could talk, what stories it would tell! Rather, we must be the ones to share the stories. We will keep Della alive, as she brought joy to thousands of youngsters, all through her ‘no bigger than a minute’ store of penny-candy and hotdogs.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
A Splendid Summer Evening
"http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/pages/Spirituality-From-A-Wheelchair/123019554388130?ref=ts"
Sitting outside on a beautiful summer evening,
The family gathered together around the table on the deck,
Eating by candlelight while surrounded by apple trees.
Hearing the crickets singing ever so lightly
As cards are played after dinner,
With lots of laughter and chatter.
Everyone so happy,
Knowing God is behind these splendid, relaxing moments.
Sitting outside on a beautiful summer evening,
The family gathered together around the table on the deck,
Eating by candlelight while surrounded by apple trees.
Hearing the crickets singing ever so lightly
As cards are played after dinner,
With lots of laughter and chatter.
Everyone so happy,
Knowing God is behind these splendid, relaxing moments.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Spirituality From A Wheelchair - WISPS
Blue skies with just wisps of a cloud or two,
a picnic blanket on the mountain grass,
a river below us,
boys with stick fishing poles,
laughing as they wade through the water,
and us playing 'keep away,' our border collie happily being in the middle,
leaping up to grab the twig thrown between my husband and I,
as I sat in my wheelchair.
Thank you, God,
for a perfect day,
while we remember those who have passed on.
a picnic blanket on the mountain grass,
a river below us,
boys with stick fishing poles,
laughing as they wade through the water,
and us playing 'keep away,' our border collie happily being in the middle,
leaping up to grab the twig thrown between my husband and I,
as I sat in my wheelchair.
Thank you, God,
for a perfect day,
while we remember those who have passed on.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Spirituality From a Wheelchair Daily Thought
HOPE...a four letter word we need to spread, every hour and day of the year!
Friday, May 28, 2010
THE SHOEBOX
Sitting among friends the other day, I thought of a story to share. I began to tell about the shoebox.
It rested on the floor underneath a dining room chair, one we rarely used. It sat in a corner, to the right of the china closet. We only used the dining room for special occasions, perhaps on a holiday or maybe having a celebration among family and friends. As we gathered at the table, those close to the chair in the corner would usually ask what was in the faded orange shoebox. We said someone must have left some shoes here, that one day the owner would claim the box. One diner would comment about looking into the box after we ate, but as the conversation moved onto other topics, the shoebox was soon forgotten.
That faded orange shoebox stayed there a couple of years. We would dust around it, sweep around it and mop around it, but never moved the box. The plan was always there, to toss it after a chore was completed or a meal was over, but life does get busy, running from one thing to the next. A shoebox under the chair did not seem to be of major concern.
As I passed by our dining room one day, the box caught my eye. I was not running to get anywhere. It was time, I said to myself, to get rid of it. I would save the box for a school project and give the shoes to a thrift store.
I opened the lid, letting out a small cry of surprise. Inside was the deceased parakeet of my daughter, still displaying all of its bright green and yellow feathers, looking as if it only passed away only yesterday, no aroma seeping out of the cardboard. I proceeded to laugh until my stomach hurt.
That evening, I brought the box out to say I finally removed it from under the dining room chair. They were most anxious to see whose shoes were inside. There were screams of laughter as I removed the lid and they peered into the box.
I am sure at the time this little bird, named Woody, passed away, my daughter asked for a shoebox so we could give him a proper burial. After placing him in the box, none of us could remember why Woody ended up on the floor in the dining room rather than in the garden.
Other parakeets have come and gone since Woody. They all have joined him in a final resting place in the garden. Now, we never fail to have the ceremony on the day each of them has passed away.
It rested on the floor underneath a dining room chair, one we rarely used. It sat in a corner, to the right of the china closet. We only used the dining room for special occasions, perhaps on a holiday or maybe having a celebration among family and friends. As we gathered at the table, those close to the chair in the corner would usually ask what was in the faded orange shoebox. We said someone must have left some shoes here, that one day the owner would claim the box. One diner would comment about looking into the box after we ate, but as the conversation moved onto other topics, the shoebox was soon forgotten.
That faded orange shoebox stayed there a couple of years. We would dust around it, sweep around it and mop around it, but never moved the box. The plan was always there, to toss it after a chore was completed or a meal was over, but life does get busy, running from one thing to the next. A shoebox under the chair did not seem to be of major concern.
As I passed by our dining room one day, the box caught my eye. I was not running to get anywhere. It was time, I said to myself, to get rid of it. I would save the box for a school project and give the shoes to a thrift store.
I opened the lid, letting out a small cry of surprise. Inside was the deceased parakeet of my daughter, still displaying all of its bright green and yellow feathers, looking as if it only passed away only yesterday, no aroma seeping out of the cardboard. I proceeded to laugh until my stomach hurt.
That evening, I brought the box out to say I finally removed it from under the dining room chair. They were most anxious to see whose shoes were inside. There were screams of laughter as I removed the lid and they peered into the box.
I am sure at the time this little bird, named Woody, passed away, my daughter asked for a shoebox so we could give him a proper burial. After placing him in the box, none of us could remember why Woody ended up on the floor in the dining room rather than in the garden.
Other parakeets have come and gone since Woody. They all have joined him in a final resting place in the garden. Now, we never fail to have the ceremony on the day each of them has passed away.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
THE WRONG NUMBER
Not long ago, I answered the phone, with caller asking if a Sandra was there. I immediately recognized the voice on the other end. She and her husband were on the same educational tour I took of Europe, nearly 30 years ago. After the tour, we stayed in touch through handwritten letters, as there was no e-mail back then. In time, our lives got busy, losing touch with one another. I always wondered how she and her husband were doing; now she was on the other end of the phone!
I told her this was not Sandra’s number, a neighbor of hers in Texas, but Marie, a person from the tour so long ago. She is in her eighties now. It took awhile for her to recall who I was, but after a minute or so, all the memories of our three weeks together returned.
Neither one of us know how she called me, as it wasn’t close to the number she was dialing, much less being in the same state! It was a joy to visit, though bittersweet, as she told me of her husband’s passing three years ago. The love story she told me that day, of the two of them, brought tears to my eyes. She was with him until his last breath, speaking of their love for one another until he shut his eyes for the last time.
I promised her I would send her a photo of my family. She got a giggle in her voice, saying that only ten days before, she had pulled out my letters from the past and photos I had sent. She, too, was wondering how I was doing, as she read the letters from long ago. Now, here I was on the phone, by her dialing a wrong number! Both of us said God had to have a part in this.
She did not get to reach Sandra through her phone call that afternoon. Rather, we both received an unanticipated joy, flooding us with beautiful memories. Tears and laughter shared reminded us just how precious and dear life is.
I told her this was not Sandra’s number, a neighbor of hers in Texas, but Marie, a person from the tour so long ago. She is in her eighties now. It took awhile for her to recall who I was, but after a minute or so, all the memories of our three weeks together returned.
Neither one of us know how she called me, as it wasn’t close to the number she was dialing, much less being in the same state! It was a joy to visit, though bittersweet, as she told me of her husband’s passing three years ago. The love story she told me that day, of the two of them, brought tears to my eyes. She was with him until his last breath, speaking of their love for one another until he shut his eyes for the last time.
I promised her I would send her a photo of my family. She got a giggle in her voice, saying that only ten days before, she had pulled out my letters from the past and photos I had sent. She, too, was wondering how I was doing, as she read the letters from long ago. Now, here I was on the phone, by her dialing a wrong number! Both of us said God had to have a part in this.
She did not get to reach Sandra through her phone call that afternoon. Rather, we both received an unanticipated joy, flooding us with beautiful memories. Tears and laughter shared reminded us just how precious and dear life is.
Monday, May 24, 2010
THE NICEST
Isn’t a fun to receive something from someone at the least expecting moment? It happened to me not once, but twice, this weekend.
It happened on Saturday morning, as I settled into my place to sit at a Confirmation ceremony, held at our Church. After the sweet man beside me helped to position my wheelchair at the end of the row of chairs, I noticed the couple behind me.
I had just met the couple’s 16-year-old daughter the week before, her aunt being a friend of mine. She and her mother told me she was to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation the following weekend, choosing Saint Rita as her patron saint. I replied by saying I would make her a necklace holding a medal of the saint. I saw her beautiful green braces as she smiled to this idea. I asked her if this was one of her favorite colors; it was, with pink being another favorite color. Already, I began an image in my mind what design I would create.
Finishing it on Thursday, I called up her aunt, to say I had it ready. She came by for it, saying her niece would love the tiny, faceted, pastel green and pink Czech glass beads, with the tiniest of sterling silver beads mixed in. The Saint Rita medal was at its center. She planned to present it to her Friday night, the eve of her Confirmation.
I turned to this couple, asking them if she was pleased with the necklace. I first must tell you that the Church is large, holding 1,000 people. To pick the place I had to sit was an amazing coincidence that they were right there behind me. However, as we all know, it really is not a coincidence; it’s God being busy having these little things happen. Their daughter was not with them, as she was being part of the procession into the Church. The mother responded that her daughter loved it, crying that though I had only met her once, for three minutes, I would make the necklace for her. The mom handed me a bouquet of flowers and a thank you card, saying they were from her daughter. It was my turn to cry; I had no idea I would receive such beautiful gifts. I feel blessed to have this teen in my heart!
On Sunday, while in Church for Mass, a woman stopped me as a rolled by her seat. She wanted to visit a few minutes before the ceremony was to begin. I had her daughter as a religious education student for several years, always staying in touch as she and her brother, another student of mine, grew up into lovely teens. Her husband reached over and handed me this beautiful long stemmed rose, fashioned from a material looking like glass. Again, I was taken aback, not anticipating a gift. The woman said they saw the rose and said it immediately made them think of me. I felt blessed again, God surrounding me with wonderful people.
It was the nicest treat, others showing gestures that still have me smiling. They will never know how much they mean to me.
It happened on Saturday morning, as I settled into my place to sit at a Confirmation ceremony, held at our Church. After the sweet man beside me helped to position my wheelchair at the end of the row of chairs, I noticed the couple behind me.
I had just met the couple’s 16-year-old daughter the week before, her aunt being a friend of mine. She and her mother told me she was to receive the Sacrament of Confirmation the following weekend, choosing Saint Rita as her patron saint. I replied by saying I would make her a necklace holding a medal of the saint. I saw her beautiful green braces as she smiled to this idea. I asked her if this was one of her favorite colors; it was, with pink being another favorite color. Already, I began an image in my mind what design I would create.
Finishing it on Thursday, I called up her aunt, to say I had it ready. She came by for it, saying her niece would love the tiny, faceted, pastel green and pink Czech glass beads, with the tiniest of sterling silver beads mixed in. The Saint Rita medal was at its center. She planned to present it to her Friday night, the eve of her Confirmation.
I turned to this couple, asking them if she was pleased with the necklace. I first must tell you that the Church is large, holding 1,000 people. To pick the place I had to sit was an amazing coincidence that they were right there behind me. However, as we all know, it really is not a coincidence; it’s God being busy having these little things happen. Their daughter was not with them, as she was being part of the procession into the Church. The mother responded that her daughter loved it, crying that though I had only met her once, for three minutes, I would make the necklace for her. The mom handed me a bouquet of flowers and a thank you card, saying they were from her daughter. It was my turn to cry; I had no idea I would receive such beautiful gifts. I feel blessed to have this teen in my heart!
On Sunday, while in Church for Mass, a woman stopped me as a rolled by her seat. She wanted to visit a few minutes before the ceremony was to begin. I had her daughter as a religious education student for several years, always staying in touch as she and her brother, another student of mine, grew up into lovely teens. Her husband reached over and handed me this beautiful long stemmed rose, fashioned from a material looking like glass. Again, I was taken aback, not anticipating a gift. The woman said they saw the rose and said it immediately made them think of me. I felt blessed again, God surrounding me with wonderful people.
It was the nicest treat, others showing gestures that still have me smiling. They will never know how much they mean to me.
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