⬆️This is Gio walking toward his school on his first day of kindergarten. Mom and Dad both went with him to the door. A momentous moment for them all!

Gio is adjusting. It’s a longer day than preschool was. There’s no nap or rest time. But he is doing pretty well. He doesn’t speak much about the Spanish, but if you use simple Spanish and mess it up, he knows and will correct you!

Some folks might wonder why we put him in a dual language school. But if you think about it, we all learn and use different languages throughout our lives. When I went back to school to get my teaching certificate, I learned a new language used by educators. That language is full of acronyms—SEI, IEP, ESL, etc. It is full of words like pedagogy and scaffolding, and phrases like formative assessments and differentiated instruction.

Later, I learned the language of breast cancer. I learned what it meant to be HER-2 positive, estrogen positive, progesterone positive. I learned about how they manage chemos like taxol and targeted therapies like Herceptin. I learned that medical oncology is slow, while radiation is fast. Each can be painful! 😣. In that world, a cocktail means something very different from what you find in a bar. And your stage is less about a platform, and more about your chances of survival.

This past week, my husband was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Having had cancer myself, I thought I would have a head start on the language, but I quickly found out I don’t. His biopsy result was full of words and phrases that were not familiar to me. I’m now learning about Gleason scores and grade groups and core samples and elevated PSA. I’m wondering about extraprostatic extension suspicions.

⬆️ Kevin reading to our big grands, Mila(3) and Gio(4).

Once again, like when I had cancer, it is unfamiliar territory, and it’s scary. When we went for the results. The doctor handed me the pathology report, but he didn’t go over it with us. He said it the report showed the cancer was more aggressive than he first thought based on the MRI and PSA. He gave his suggestions on what we could do. This doctor recommended surgery, but he handed us a card for a radiation oncologist we could consult with, and he told us his surgery scheduler would be in touch.

By the end of the day, after we tried to read the pathology report, we decided we needed an interpreter to know what we are really facing. On Wednesday we will go to our general practitioner, who we trust, and ask her to interpret the results. We need to know what the pathology report really means. I threw the summary into Google a couple of times and got similar but varied answers. 🤨 So we will see what our primary care doctor thinks.

Kev’s a quiet guy. He knows about languages. He speaks math fluently, particularly statistics, and he knows corporate law language. Even better, he knows how to translate those complex language into English so his clients can understand. These are the languages of his work. In the cancer world, he knows the language of breast cancer that I spoke of, and he knows some about prostate cancer because his dad had it and struggled with it for close to 20 years. His brother has it too. But Kev is not his brother or his dad and this will be first hand experience for him and for me. We will see it through together.

So now we begin to learn to interpret this prostate cancer, hopefully in plain English, and gain more experiences with the American medicine system. I am praying for good results all around. Kevin and I have 48 years together, and I am hoping for a many more.

If you have a connection with God, or a higher power, please put in a good work for Kevin and me. I would rather be learning Spanish with Gio, but sometimes we don’t have a choice.

🌺Linda

They will have their first birthday on Sept. 8th. They are quite similar and yet, different, as I suspect most twins are. Skye is a little girl, and Eli is a little boy. And they were born two months before they were due.

For Skye, the two month difference meant she was small and needed 3 extra weeks in the NICU so she could gain enough weight to head home. And now, you can hardly tell she was premi at all! She crawls at lightning speed, stands and walks around coffee tables and pant legs. She loves crawling around with her big sis, Mila. She squeals with delight when you pick up a book to read to her. She takes 20 minute naps…because she doesn’t want to miss anything.

⬆️Skye and Momma.

Eli, her twin is different from Skye. He has a unique sense of delight! When I walk into the room, he clasps his hands and gives me a sparking wide grin. Like Skye, he loves books and is going to be one of those page tear-ers, just like his older brother, Gio.

⬆️ Eli with his momma.

Eli and I have some things in common. We are not “typical”, and haven’t been since birth. I had/have hip issues. I didn’t walk until I was two, and I had lots of surgeries when I was young to try to fix my hip. Eli was born with an extra chromosome, (DS). He had duodenal atresia and needed surgery when he was a week old, just so that he could eat. He was even littler than his sister, and he spent his first two months in the NICU.

Like other DS kids, his muscle tone is not like a typical child. His muscles have to be trained in a way that comes more easily if you are “typical”. From eating, to pooping, to rolling-sitting-crawling-standing-walking, Eli is learning and practicing at his own pace, like every learner on the planet. It’s hard work! And some learning falls outside what is typical.

Eli isn’t as mobile as his twin, but he is VERY good at sitting, and he gives you the biggest grin when you pull him up to standing! Over the last couple of months, he discovered that his feet can hold him up, and that ability delights him! Slowly, he has taught his muscles to hold himself up. Now he just needs a little help holding his hips in place while he works on balancing his torso. Crawling practice will be next. Just this week, he started using his arms to push his head up from the floor and reach for things. Day by day he is learning and discovering new things in his own time.

As Eli learns, his family, and his Nana (me), learn too. We all live in a large city and are lucky to have a clinic that specializes in kids with Downs Syndrome (DS). But, it takes a long time to get into the clinic. Eli finally made it in when he was about 9 months old. Up until then, we worked with our pediatrician and our state resources for kids with DS. Thanks to the state services, we have a wonderful, experienced PT who comes and teaches Eli and us about how to wake up his muscles.

When he finally got assessed at the DS clinic, we discovered he has some swallowing and hearing issues. The swallowing trouble was an important discovery. It seems some of Eli’s formula was going down his wind pipe! That gave him a constant cough. Such trouble moved him up the line and he got to see a swallowing specialist within a couple of weeks. After some trial and error, he now eats a thicker formula made with a gel mixture. It’s odd, but it works for him. And his cough is becoming a memory. 🤗

Eli works hard, and plays hard. Training muscles, sucking gelled formula takes a lot of work. So unlike his sister, Eli takes good long naps. 😴 I watched the twins on Friday. He woke up from his nap, and we started to play. He seemed perfectly content with me and his sister, Skye. We were looking at books and playing with toys. But I found it odd. When I tried to bring him to his feet, Eli didn’t bring his feet down. I tried a few times, but he just didn’t want to try. Hmm…he also didn’t want to work on pushing up with his hands. No energy. He seemed content. What was he telling me? 🧐…He was out of fuel! He wasn’t hungry enough to complain by crying. But when I got him his bottle, he ate with gusto. After that, he had the fuel and rest to play and practice his skills. Ahhh! I learned something about Eli. He might not tell you when he is running on fumes. Nana needs to check in with others and see if it’s time for a meal!

Learning! We all keep learning. Every child is different. Every adult is different. And for Eli and Skye, (and their siblings, Mila, Gio, and Tralvis) and their village, we all have to be in tune with each other’s differing needs as best we can. As adults, we can lead the way. And we can be honest and generous about what we learn about others. In addition, we can be honest about our own needs. I recently stepped away from watching my grandkids and got my knee replaced. Everyone made adjustments for me. And now, I am getting back in the mix, with modifications. (I still can’t bring babies up or down the stairs yet.)

Some of us, like me and Eli, are openly unique. We hear our own drum beat at our own pace. Those around us need to be as aware as they can, without being judgmental. If we tune into the needs of others we can make life just a wee bit easier for all of us. And every one of us is unique. “Typical” is imaginary. We are real.

Be watchful as you make your way around your own uniqueness and the uniqueness of others today. Practice using your intuitive muscles 💪! We can all get there if we honestly try.

😘🌺

Linda

My water heater leak into 1/3 of my house is almost fixed, but not enough to put everything back into the pantry again.

Now you’re up to date on some happenings.

I am longing for connection and community.

Where do you find community?

In my corner of the world, it’s not my neighbors. I live in a cul-da-sac with four other houses in a semi-circle. We live in an upper middle class neighborhood with 2 car garages with automatic doors. Our kids used to being the neighbors together, but they are grown. Kev and I are not gardeners, and we rarely hang out in our front yard. After 25 years with mostly the same neighbors, I know their names, and we have a potluck on Halloween and …that’s it. We haven’t connected, and to be honest, Kev and I haven’t tried. They are nice folks, but we are all…busy.

I have often thought my community was my church. The church I have known all my life is 20 minutes away, and it used to be that all the family was there. We would gather at church then family went for a meal just to catch up with each other. When I was younger, I drove to church multiple times a week to attend Bible studies, women’s events, and children’s events. Now, Kev and I take our moms there on Sunday. Our moms are in their 90s. This gives us a good opportunity to be with our moms each week and share a meal after church with both of them. While there, I often help with events or lead a study. But the 20 minute commute now means I am not there most of the week. I no longer want to go to meetings during the week if it means fighting rush hour traffic.

My mom is active in the retirement community where she lives. She had some friends who suggested she come to church with them. This year she switched churches. So now I am bouncing between the two. And to be honest I don’t feel like I fit at either place.

My thoughts on God, Jesus and church have been changing. Yes, I want community, but worship and meetings doesn’t really make community. It seems like churches, like nations, have a superiority complex that doesn’t foster a diverse community. Churches can be exclusive, and suspicious of those who think differently or have different stories. And stories are what it all circles around. I love a good story, but I don’t need to worship the story. I need to worship the creator God in all their forms. And I need to listen and “connect” to different stories, but church folks often are afraid of what is different—race, religion, ethnicity, socio-economics. And they don’t want to discuss why they feel that way.

So, how do I find community with and in all of that. Perhaps church isn’t it. Maybe it’s friends and family. Ok. But these days, my friends are scattered across the valley and across the states. Other friend groups have changed over time. And my friend groups tend to be women. I’d like a more diverse community.

⬆️ This is me and some of my old teamies! We all taught 3rd grade together. We still get together to share stories about teaching and life from time to time. Our connection is a love for teaching! We are a community in our own special way. But we are a bit exclusive.

I don’t have an answer. And it feels lonely. I want to connect. But I’m not sure who my community is. I know I have family, and yes, they are a big part of my community. How do you create an authentic community beyond the family circle. How do we come together as a diverse community. How do we put our suspicions down, and share our stories as a way to connect?

Hmm…maybe I should start a morning coffee circle? Bathrobes and pjs would be acceptable attire. And…ok tea drinkers can bring their own favorite tea. I will keep the kettle hot. Maybe it can be a Saturday morning “thing”.

What do you do? What do you think? Who is your community? How do you keep it inclusive rather than exclusive?

But packing was hard. I was outnumbered. My three young daughters had very different ideas of what was needed for our trips. As I worked on packing suitcases with the appropriate clothes and shoes, the girls would be packing the car with assorted toys and stuffies—the bigger the better!! For every load I brought out, there was a load to take in! 🥵

⬆️ This is actually my grandson Gio. Gio and I came along on his mom’s trip when he was little. He found great delight in climbing in and out my suitcase and unpacking it! (I could go looking for a picture of my girls in their overloaded packing state, but that would require searching thru my disorganized boxes of photos from before the digital age!)

Kevin wasn’t please when he would come home for work, hoping to be ready to go, and there was still car repacking to do. But he asserted his “daddy” authority. Tears would come, then dry on cheeks. He reminded them that the beloved items would be there when they got home, and our adventure needed to begin with room for passengers!

When plane trips became part of the routine, and the girls were older, we set down a rule that worked very well for all of us. You could only bring what you could carry. That meant one rolling bag for the overhead bin space and one backpack. We all learned that we could travel lighter.

Packing lighter. 🧐 Right now, life seems overloaded.

• The heat of summer is making every living thing droop.

• The restoration project we need due to a water heater leak hasn’t begun yet.

• My daughter’s art gallery is struggling and it’s a family affair.

• My dear friend is coming to stay on my hide-a-bed later this week so she can visit her brother again. He faces life and death decisions due to cancer complications.

• And my knee, is making slow progress…slower than I had hoped.

I could go on and chat about the state of my community, state, country, but my own corner of the world seems is enough for now,

So how do you lighten the load when you are overloaded?

Here are some things I try to do —very imperfectly. I am writing them down. I hope it inspires me to get myself doing them again.

1. Pray with intention. Ask one question, ask for one healing, ask for one piece of guidance. Don’t lay out the laundry list for God. Be specific.

2. Wait and listen—particularly when in prayer. Give time for the Spirit to respond.

3. Ask in prayer, “what is mine to do today?”. (I need to be better about asking this and waiting for the answer!). The answer usually tells me more about what to lay down rather than what to pick up.

4. Get outside. I am currently out in my backyard. I like to sit near the citrus trees and turn on the misters in the early morning. It allows for a little extra cooling before the beginning of a hot day.

5. Read what is thoughtful and helpful. I could doom scroll or play computer games for a good portion of my day or night. But my day goes better if I focus on more thoughtful readings.

6. Get productive. While recovering, I knitted a good size toddler blanket. Yesterday, the grands came over and Mila (age 3) and I started a 300 piece puzzle she found. Who is working on it? Me.🤭. Maybe the puzzle isn’t productive, but it is satisfying for me.

   

⬆️ This is the blanket I knitted while recovering from my knee surgery.

1. Write. Lately, I am more apt to comment on someone else’s substack. But it is better when I journal, or write my own substack piece to share. It’s good to write down my struggles and let my pen go where it will on the paper. Sometimes there is a prayer in the writing. And sometimes the Spirit comes and mysteriously writes what is needed with the pen in my hand.

2. At times music helps. If I can listen and carry a positive song, my day lightens a bit.

3. Mindful breathing helps too, particularly as I close out my day.

What do you do when life feels heavy? Please share your ideas. Together we just might lighten the load.

🌺Linda

Major surgery is an event that leads to learning new things. In my life right now, I am learning many new things. Some are related to surgery, others not so much.

Here’s what I’m learning about knee replacement.

• Knees are different animals than hips. Recovering from knee replacement requires different strategies and rules. I’ve had both my hips replaced and thought replacing my knee would be similar. Well, it wasn’t as similar as I thought. 🤔

• Doing the prescribed exercises just as prescribed works! I am getting my mobility back, and my PT says I am ahead of the game. 😊

• Pain management requires some careful attention. I’m grateful for the notebook my daughter bought so we could keep track of what I took and when. 😬😴🫤😊

• Overdoing has consequences! 😫. If you’ve been home resting for 2 weeks and are bored, you really shouldn’t run a bunch of errands just because you have a doctor’s appointment! That craziness set me back at least 3 days, and my muscles and new knee were no longer cooperating with each other.

Yeah, yeah, you might be saying. I don’t have these problems. (Hmm…some day you might. I hope the posts are still here for reference.). Here are some other things I learned this week.

• Unexpected things come at inconvenient times. Five days after surgery, we discovered our water heater had a slow leak that caused some major damage to our house. It affected the storage room, laundry room, guest bath, pantry, and part of the kitchen. Restoration folks swept in and cleaned up the mess, while tearing out and making a new mess. Industrial fans were endured for a time. Thankfully they are gone now. But my house is torn apart on one end and we are trying to patiently wait for the restoration folks and the insurance folks to put a plan in place to get the house repaired and functional again. Oh my! How my patience was tested! This pushed me over the edge and into tears.😭

  

This is what my kitchen table looks like. The boxes and table are holding a good portion of my pantry and kitchen. 🤦🏽‍♀️

• Life is real and earnest for all those around you. Their problems and concerns are different, and you can still keep your head in the game, try to listen and be generous. I have struggled with some of this. At times I have felt like it was a tsunami of woes. It is humbling to realize that when you run out of capacity you can still quietly hold folks without fixing anything. Prayer and quiet meditation helps me figure out what is mine to hold and mine to let go.

• Be generous with your “thank you” as people help you out in big and small ways. Kudos to both Karen and Kevin. They have provided steady care-taking for me. Karen is amazingly intuitive and gentle. She listened for me each morning and fixed my breakfast for the first two weeks after surgery. She helped me keep track of the meds I was taking. ❤️. Kevin, has picked up a lot of the chores I would usually do or help with. When I need something and ask, he is ready to help. Family and friends have brought lunches or dinners. Friends have called, checked in, and stayed in touch as I have healed. I have even discovered some Substack writers who have messaged and checked on me and provided encouragement. 😘😘❤️

• Be generous with your time and space as you are able. Our kids have been having some struggles. Some are business related. Two of my daughters own and operate a small retail art gallery in town. The current economy is a rocky road, particularly in the dog days of summer. Providing space for dinners, conversations, encouragement, direction, and assistance is something Kev and I can do. I sometimes struggle to keep my awareness and my head in the game…but I am doing my imperfect best.

• My little grands still float my boat! Visits from my big and little grands provide light-hearted relief. For the time being, they come two by two instead of four at once. And once again, Kevin and Karen help navigate the time and provide a space buffer for me when needed. ❤️

  

Auntie Karen read stories to the “big” grands while they were visiting. I love that she is reading stories she truly loved as a kid. Berenstein Bears were a real favorite of hers!

• You can still be open to the needs of others. I have a dear friend who shared that she was coming to see her brother who was in the hospital in ICU. I know she could have managed to fly here, get a hotel and see her brother. But I also knew I still had space for her to come here to rest, since I live fairly close to the hospital. My daughter, Karen is currently occupying our guest room, but we have a hide-a-bed in the room normally reserved as a toy room for the grands. I offered her that couch and she took me up on the offer. ❤️. Her loving spirit accepted all our messiness, bantered with us about life’s woes and wonders, and reminded me again that some folks are just wonderful family even though they aren’t blood relatives.

So here I am. I’m resting more than working my life still. I’ve graduated to a cane, as long as I don’t over do it. And I am still trying to be present in a …whirlwind.

How’s your summer going? Don’t forget to be imperfectly patient, grateful, and hospitable as life allows.

🌺Linda

I took this picture today —2 weeks after surgery. A lot of the bruising is fading ☺️, I am well on the way to recovery and better mobility. But it hasn’t been without cost! And I have more work to do!

Today, I wrote a short poem about the experience, thanks to the inspiration of Chris B. Writes. He asked his followers to play with words as they create their poetry. So I gave it a go in my response to his prompt. Here is the result:

BRUTAL

I am brutally bruised.

Brutality can happen in an operating room.

No one sees but the accomplices.

How else will a crooked knee become straight?

Brute force

From ankle to hip

Corrects a bowed leg

Or a knocked knee.

Once sewn up,

Who is to know?

Hah! Honesty will prevail!

Slowly skin reveals

Deep purple

Black

Blue

Green.

Color maps the trauma.

Who knew such a kind, compassionate, doctor

Could be so ruthless

When the operating room doors closed!

And once the deed is done,

He exits the operating room,

Takes off his butcher’s apron,

Unties his mask and removes his cap.

Entering the waiting room,

He greets the family.

His compassionate natures returns.

He doesn’t share the brutality,

He talks about the need.

He speaks of the difficult straightening

In softer terms.

But brutal bruises

Will tell the depth of the cruel truth.

Black, deep purple, blue, and green

Slowly fading as healing comes.

I have been in recovery before. In fact, recovery has been part of my life since infancy. I was born breech. I had a dislocated hip with a shallow hip socket. It took them a while to figure it out. I had leg braces and surgeries as a baby. I didn’t walk until I was 2. When I was 8, they restructured my left hip. That was way back in 1965. The surgery was very new. And it required me to be in a body cast for a summer 😝. But that restructure did well. I didn’t replace that hip until I was 56.

⬆️This picture of me and my sister was taken the summer I had the hip restructured . Not a fun summer for either of us.

Physical surgery requires recovery. Codependency, depression, addiction all require recovery. And recoveries are different. They are personal. They take time. I know a little about all of these. You have to be resilient and determined to get good results.

Yesterday, I had my knee replaced. This is my 3rd joint replacement. Both hips have been replaced. This is my first knee. It’s similar and different. And I have been warned, it will be more painful. But I believe I am resilient, and I will work at my recovery.

Recovery requires balance. You need rest, you need to work, and you need to manage the pain. Ice packs are my friend! I am currently resting, but earlier I had my first Physical Therapy here at the house. It started easy. As it heals, we will work it harder. And from what I was told today, I have about 6 weeks to get the flexibility going again. And I have goals for this knee. I have four active grandkids to keep up with! I want to be up for the fun! 🤩 It is good to have goals.

No matter what you are recovering from, that doesn’t define who you are. All my joint troubles don’t define me. My codependency and depression troubles don’t define me. I think all of us have seasons of discovery and recovery. They turn us, they make us aware of our weaknesses. They take us out of our game for a season. But they don’t define us. And when we acknowledge our weakness and get good care, we can rise up out of it and back into life.

I am Linda. I’m a wife (48 years!), a mom, a nana, and so much more. I’m a retired teacher and I still love to teach. I love to learn. I even enjoy writing. And I will recover as best I can and love life as best I can.

What about you? Do you discover weaknesses within yourself? Physical ones, emotional ones, mental ones. How do you work toward recovery? How do you care for yourself and mend?

And if anyone out there has been thru knee replacement and has wisdom to share. Please do!

🌺Linda

⬆️ Skye is holding tight to Auntie Karen so that she can practice her wobbly walking!

That confidence will grow until she lets go of her tight grip so she can reach for another steadying spot or another hand. And someday, before we know it, she will let go of her grip and walk freely on her own.

Holding tight is an important developmental step in life. Throughout life, we hold tight, then we learn to let go.

We hold tight to mom or dad, then head into school for the first time.

We hold tight to the steering wheel as we make our first attempts at driving, but eventually loosen the grip and hopeful have wisdom as well as confidence behind the wheel.

Parents hold tight to their children, until their grip loosens and the kids launch into the world.

We hold on tight to our first love…until they slip through our fingers.

We hold on tight to our truest love and “tie the knot” tight.

We discover that tight knots make it hard to breathe.

With consideration we hold our love more loosely and learn to listen and love with steady hands that hold.

New life comes. We adjust. And we adjust again and again.

We build homes and fill them with things we like and love.

We build careers and futures and hold right to our dreams.

But sometimes…

Our ideas no longer fit reality. What we thought no longer makes sense. What we gained doesn’t satisfy as we thought it would. And we

Pause.

Wonder.

Question.

Negotiate.

Change the grip,

Grasp something different,

Let go.

Grow.

Life is full of growth moments. Some we want, some we don’t. We fight change. We hold on tight to what we know, what we think we know. But slowly we see, we hear, we feel…the difference. We are wobbly at first. We are unsure.

My life feels full of change. I’m a little wobbly. I’m a little unsure.

I became a grandma almost 5 years ago. Gio was first, then Mila, and now twin grands, Skye and Eli. Each addition changes the family dynamics. Eli’s extra chromosome opens and challenges my understanding of growth and development. I see and feel from a different perspective. I’m wobbly, and looking for new avenues of support and understanding.

Loving Cergio, my son-in-law, stretches and changes my perspective. He is a black man, and in our society, he and his family are treated differently, in ways I never realized or understood. My heart, my perspective, my thoughts on justice, equity, and opportunity within this country and community wobble and shift.

Exploring how others experience God challenges my views on religion and what it means to live a life of faith. I am questioning what I believe, what I thought I knew. And I am leaning into my Spirit more than my religious upbringing.

Finally, I am holding on and shifting positions as I grapple with aging and retirement. I want to do so much! But my body is not always compliant. There is a lot of wondering, struggling, questioning, negotiating in the complex world of healthcare, retirement options, and to be honest…uncertainty. There are things to embrace, things to relearn, and things to let go.

Skye and my grandkids are just beginning. They will learn, unlearn, relearn and grow. I’ve been here a while. Changing, evolving, stretching…growing. It’s not easy: Letting go of what was. Holding something new. Learning new ways. Getting steady again, only to repeat the cycle.

Slow a moment. Look with care. Can you see the need to let go a little in your life? Can you change your grip on an idea, a way of life? Can you shift your view and look from a different perspective? Are you in the midst of a change? Are you a little wobbly? Do you need to hold on tight? What do you hold on to?

Sometimes change makes me feel weary. It feels like a lot when I look at it all at once. Sometimes it feels like it comes too fast, too much. But I can pause. Breathe. Chunk it. Take it one piece at a time. Hold on, loosen, steady, let go.

How about you? Please share your wisdom below.

🌺Linda

Where the F* is the village?

Why Asking for Help Feels Like Going Into Debt

Recently a friend offered to pick my daughter up from school because my son was sick…

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3 months ago · 24 likes · 12 comments · Where the F* is the Village?

When did caring become a commodity? When did we put a price on acts of kindness? I am guilty of this too. Particularly when I am the one who needs help.

In 2019, just before the pandemic hit in 2020, I was diagnosed with cancer. At first, it looked like “run of the mill” (😂🤢) breast cancer. I had a lumpectomy and was supposed to have radiation for 6 weeks, then be rid of it. But the pathology report came back saying it was a fast spreading bugger!! I wound up getting to know folks in the chemo ward. Twelve weeks of weekly chemo, then targeted therapy every 3 weeks for a year—just as #@$&% insurance that it wouldn’t come back.

Now, Kev and I are self-sustaining folks. We had all the resources we needed, thank God. And Kev is a good cook. So we declined most inquiries from folks wanting to help.

No, we didn’t need a meal train.

No, Kev can take me to chemo.

Kev would answer the phone calls and say, “No, Linda is doing fine right now, but she is resting.”

I was removed from my village. Except for the insistent ones. THANK GOD FOR THE INSISTENT ONES!

Ladies and GENTLEMEN, acts of kindness are given freely from a community that loves you and cares about you. It is not a commodity to be purchases or placed on an exchange. No. It is to be passed on…when you are able, as you are able.

Thank you kind community ❤️.

Debbie and Bryce came before my first chemo in December, less than six months after their son, Kameron died of a wicked sarcoma. They brought twinkle lights and garland to decorate my pole. They brought me plastic bugs to play tricks on doctors and nurses, just as their son had. 🥹❤️

Dr. Sippel and Mrs. Laramie, my superintendent and my principal, (I was teaching 3rd grade), made sure the class was covered by a fresh out of college teacher who I mentored as best I could while suffering effects of chemo. AND they left me salaried, but part time, and didn’t drop my insurance! ❤️🌺

Janessa, the brand new teacher who held my class together, put up with my faulty memory of what we were teaching, and helped our class move to an online class structure after the pandemic hit.❤️

My cousin Jan sent me a quilt she made, so I would stay warm in the chemo room and at home.

And…Leah Jones, wouldn’t take no for an answer when she made soup and home made bread for supper. 🍞🥖😋 OH! I am so glad she insisted!

Others helped set up a special Facebook room for me. And there I invited the friends I trusted to walk this journey with me.

Cards, little tokens or encouragement. It all kept me moving forward.

That’s what community does. And it doesn’t seek payment. It prays for wholeness. It doesn’t need recognition. It just needs you to join into the community of giving when you are able and see the need.

Carrie Newcomer is right:

I can’t tell you

It will all come out right

But I know there is help in hard times,

All I know is there’s help in hard times.

Folks, let’s throw away the idea that acts of kindness must be reciprocated in kind- that an act of kindness from someone comes out of a limited account. Let us be a people of abundance!

When we need help, may we be abundant with our gratitude.

When we give help, may we give with freedom and abundance, in other words, grace 😊. Knowing what we give will be passed on in due time to others in need.

In loving community and gratitude 😘,

Linda

I’ve been circling, wondering, and if I am honest, I am troubled by some plot twists in my life.

I am wondering?

Where or how do I “fit in”, honestly?

Why do I struggle with “fitting in”?

Do I NEED to fit in?

At 68 years of age, I think I need to be over this. This is ego squawking.

Two clashing comments happened this week with two different friends and they got me thinking.

I met up with a church friend for ice cream this week. And she commented, “I’m kind of surprised. I thought when the pastor left, you’d come back to church.”

As you might guess, I haven’t gone back, even though my husband still goes there with his mom. It’s complicated on the surface. And it’s complicated within its depths.

On the surface, it has to do with our moms. My mom never really made friends with folks at the church we attend, even though it was her parents’ church. When our last pastor struggled with his mental health and continued preaching without pastoring, she got fed up and decided to go to a church closer to where she lived. She has friends who go there (and I believe this is an important point -friendships were a missing piece.) Mom is 92, she didn’t think she could get on the bus to go, so she asked me to take her, so I did. I started attending, and I like it fine. I now know mom’s friends, but I don’t really have a connection beyond that.

Kevin’s mom is also 92. But his mom has dementia. She has been attending our original church for 50+ years. Change is hard for her. So Kevin goes and sits with his mom and maintains his connections to the church his own way.

That’s the surface reason. Good enough.

But there is a deeper struggle. And it has a connection to my other friend’s comment. She and I go way back. We both have rough edges and golden scars. Our relationship to Jesus and church is …less traditional, and more honest. I’m not afraid to tell Kathy what I really feel about life, Spirit, Jesus. Not much seems to surprise her. We are real with each other. And she called me out in a funny way this week.

She said, “You know you are the velveteen rabbit, don’t you?”

To be honest, I had never thought of myself that way. The velveteen rabbit was so well loved by his little boy that he became real. Well loved ❤️. Real 🐇.

I am well loved. I have struggled and learned with my family and close friends. Like a well loved stuffy, I have been loved on, dragged through mud, gone through the washing machine, fallen off the bed, been lost, been left, been found…you name it.

⬆️ This is my family. They have made me real.❤️❤️‍🩹

And through all of that, I have had a patient gem of a spirit within me. Spirit sometimes seems like Jesus, sometimes seems like a heavenly mom or grandma. Spirit is wise. Never giving me the answers I expect. Usually has me look at life from a different perspective than my own. Shows solutions or avenues I never considered, and loves me no matter what.

I should hang out more with my Spirit. Perhaps she is what is real within me.

I have learned about the Holy Spirit at church. It’s a gift spoken of in the Bible. Christians are given the Spirit through God and Jesus. We just entered the season of Pentecost, when the early church received the Spirit and everyone understood the good news in their own language.

But I knew my inner Spirit before I understood how it was supposed to work. And I had to unpack the church’s idea of Spirit in order to get in touch with my Spirit again. I got closer to Spirit through an indigenous friend, and folks like Steven Charleston, an Episcopal Bishop with an indigenous heritage and belief system.

Getting in touch with my Spirit, being real with it, has made me question… I go to church and wonder. How did we, the church, lose our way —its focus on Jesus and Spirit. How did communion get to be a tiny cup of juice and an itty bitty wafer?

Where is the chance to feast? Ask questions without judgement? Where is friendship without obligation or strings?

When does church become real? Somehow, it’s stopped being real to me. I sing the choruses and I want to change the words. Spirit is real, Jesus is real. It’s less about the blood and sacrifice and more following Jesus’ way of being with folks. Break bread together, cook the fish, pass the cup of wine around the room and don’t measure who takes what. Heal folks of whatever is ailing them and don’t look back, look forward!

There is much beauty in the church. And maybe I am the one who has lost their way. But I am struggling to find my place in a pew. Maybe that is why I have not committed to Mom’s church or returned to my own.

I don’t fit. And to try is to not be real. I would rather be real.

I am having trouble voicing this in church. 😣

I could use a hug by robot stuffy. I wonder how he will become real?

Are you real?

Blessings on this Sunday. It’s time to get ready for church with my mom.

🌺Aloha

Linda

⬆️Robot Stuffy and I were on the beach with Mylinda and Kathleen. We were about to have a Sunday meditation experience, and Robot joined us for it.

My 8-year-old self had a blast thinking of stories and ways we could include this little stuffy into our adventures. And every night, I tucked him under my arm, thought of my young grandson and all his siblings, and went to sleep. 😴😊

On the day I got home, I brought Robot Stuffy back to my grandson Gio. I sat on the couch with Gio and Mila and read the stories of Robot’s adventures. They liked the stories, and when they were over, they went back to their own play. I stayed and played with them and their littlest siblings who are twins—Skye and Eli. I chatted with their mom and discussed babysitting schedules. Then I went home. Robot Stuffy was back with his rightful buddy. And to be honest, the 8-year-old inside me felt a little sad that our adventure was over. So here I sit. And I am wondering how to keep that whimsy going in my daily life.

How do you keep the child alive and well within yourself? I’ve known for a while that I have a little girl inside me who got wounded when I was a kid. And I know it is best to care for her and pay attention to her feelings within me. This latest adventure to Cape Cod with Robot Stuffy brought just a bit of magical, silly whimsy with it. And “young me” was tickled and smiling. I also believe it was just a little bit catching. Kathleen and Melinda got ideas and helped with the staging as we made our way around the cape with Robot in tow.

It’s good to carry a lightness to our step, and a twinkle in our eye. So I am throwing this back to you. How do you care for the kid within? How do you bring a little whimsy and magic into your life? If you haven’t ever thought of this, use your imagination and think of what might be fun.

I’m opening this up for a brainstorming / heart-warming session. Let’s be a little daring and go a little crazy…no matter what our age. What would float the boat of the kid in you?

Looking forward to our conversation!

Linda 🌺🧸

⬆️This is me, Robot Stuffy! Nana and her buddies were enjoying hot cocoa, popcorn and chocolate one night at our beach house. They let me join them. I really didn’t eat much though. Sometimes I think they forget I am stuffed.

You should know that most of the time, I hang out with Gio, Nana’s grandson.

Most of my adventures are at preschool with him. I get stuffed in a cubby until it’s rest time. Sometimes I get left behind—which is a different adventure. School gets pretty dark and pretty quiet when I get left behind in the cubby. Once I got left in Nana’s car over night. I didn’t mind too much. I like cars and machines, so that was a good adventure.

Lucky for Gio, at times when I’m left behind, I’m not his only stuffy. Get this, I share the spotlight with a guy named Escargot! Yup, you got it…Gio likes sleeping with a snail too. Let’s just say, my buddy Gio appreciates diversity!

⬆️This was Gio at school when he got to share a report on a big old spider who lives in South America. He knows a lot about that spider!

But I digress. This is supposed to be about my trip with Nana.

I think I can see how Nana and Gio are related. Nana sometimes forgot me, just like Gio does sometimes. I got left behind when Nana and her friends went to Rhode Island.

⬆️ This is Mylinda, Kathleen, Nana, and a friend who met them in Rhode Island named Joan. They went and toured that BIG house. They also went on a long hike on a cliff, then they went for a special dinner to celebrate Kathleen’s birthday. It was a cold day, so I was happy to hang out at the beach house.

One day, Nana stayed back from the adventure to Nantucket and stayed with me. We had fun on the beach, just hanging out. Ya know, I kind of felt special that day. (She wrote about us in her last substack. You are welcome to find out about our day in that article.)

The next day though, I got left behind again. The trio of ladies went off to a place called Martha’s Vinyard. It’s an island, so they crossed the water on a ferry. Then they caught a bus and went to all the different places Kathleen wanted to go, because this is her birthday trip.

⬆️ Nana and Kathleen at a place called Edgartown. That town was having a Porch Fest where there were lots of music groups playing on porches all around town.

After Edgartown they went to Oak Bluffs and saw a whole neighborhood of gingerbread houses that were not made of gingerbread! They also saw the oldest working merry-go-round in America!

⬆️See what I mean? Does this look like gingerbread to you?

The next day was Sunday. Now you probably don’t know this, but Mylinda is a minister. So she planned a really nice church time for us on the beach, and I got to come along 😊. We listened to a Carrie Newcomer song, then we did a beach walk and paid attention to each of our senses. It’s important to pay attention to our senses, because God gave them to us. And he gave us feelings. It felt good to be worshipping with these ladies.

After the worship and walking, the ladies took me with them on an adventure around Cape Cod!

⬆️Here I am visiting a real lighthouse! Guess what?? It’s the same lighthouse that’s on the potato chip package!!

⬆️Doesn’t it look like Kathleen is holding up the lighthouse?

⬆️Well, she wasn’t. That light house was BIG, and it has a very important light inside that helps guide ships away from dangers at night.

We had a delicious stop after our adventure at the lighthouse! It seems that home made ice cream is a must when you come to Cape Cod. All the gals got two scoops with a cone on top. Good thing I was stuffed. They ate every last bite!

Our last stop before home was to the salt marshes that had a boardwalk we were allowed to walk on. Most boardwalks at the marshes are private. When we got there, we saw folks digging for clams! We watched for a while.

You need big rubber waders that go up to your armpits in order to be a clam digger. You also need a life preserver or two with a net inside to hold the clams and keep them fresh while you dig. You use a special rake to dig up the clams from the sand. That’s how they were getting the clams. It was fun to watch and learn!

Well, our adventure by the sea was pretty complete after our day exploring the cape, and I am glad I got to come along.

The next day, the ladies and I drove to Boston. We got to check into our hotel early. They left me at the hotel, so I got to stretch out on Nana’s big bed. They went off in search of cannolis, pasta, and history. When they got back, Nana was pooped! She said she had walked over 16,000 step. I think that was a lot for her.

It’s the next day now. Kathleen and Mylinda headed back to Olympia, and Nana and I are on a big airplane heading back home to Phoenix. I can’t wait to share about our adventures with Gio.

We hope you liked hearing about our adventures!

Bye!

Hi there! I’m Robot Stuffy. I’m with Nana on a beach in Sandwich, Massachusetts. After being stowed away in Nana’s carry-on for 5 hours I am now enjoying a Nana adventure! She came out to Cape COD with her friends, Kathleen and Mylinda. They are celebrating Kathleen’s BIG b-day, and I got to come along!

We got here pretty late a couple of nights ago, so I didn’t get to see much that first night. It sure was different cuddling up with Nana in her twin bed. First, it was cooler, but Nana put an extra blanket on the bed. Nana’s arm was warm and cuddly too, even if it was heavier than Gio’s. She was a pretty good bedmate. I never found myself on the floor. But she did snore a bit 🤭.

Next morning, Nana brought me up stairs to the main living area. Wow! 🤩 We could look out the window and see this BIG ocean! She took me out on the deck to see it better.

Later that day, Nana and her friends left to go explore Newport, Rhode Island. She didn’t take me! 😕. But after that long airplane trip, I didn’t mind stretching out on Nana’s bed until they got back.

When Nana and her friends got back, they were pooped! It seems they saw this big old mansion called the Breakers, and then they went on a cliff walk, and finally they ate at a really old tavern called White Horse Tavern. They liked the dinner a lot. I’m not sure what the big deal is about food, I just don’t seem to have a craving for it. I always feel—stuffed!

Didn’t take them long to settle down for the night after their adventures. Nana had a sore knee, but she took some medicine for it, and slept pretty good from what I could tell. 😴😴

Today, Nana decided to hang out with me! Kathleen and Mylinda went to some place called Nantucket. Nana must have wanted to keep me company. We’ve been hanging out. She’s been reading a book Kathleen gave her last night, it’s called Gift from the Sea. I’m not really sure how a book came out of the Sea without getting really wet. Seems to me it would be pretty soggy, but she keeps smiling and sighing as she reads it. She even got her journal out and wrote some words she wanted to keep.

After a bit, we decided to go for a walk on the beach together 😃! Finally! It was my turn to get out! We walked carefully down the stairs to the beach. She was looking for rocks and seashells—found some too! She said I could hold one.

We continued down the beach until we got to some big rocks. She found a really nice one where I could relax and look at the sea for a bit and listen to the waves.

The only thing that would make this better would be if my family and Gio were here. But I will be back to them soon. In the meantime, it's grand adventure.

Hmm…Nana wants to go in and have some lunch now. Not me, I’m stuffed.

Bye for now.

Robot Stuffy

I’m traveling again! Two weeks ago, I left Hawaii after a beautiful and restful trip with my hubby. Now I’m back on a plane heading across the country to celebrate a friend’s BIG birthday.🎉 This time it’s a “girls trip”.

My oldest grandson, Gio, who is 4, was not happy about me leaving again. I admit, it’s too soon, but when asked to join this adventure with one of my “besties” I jumped at the chance. So I’m heading out to Cape Cod, Massachusetts for a bucket list adventure with Kathleen and her friend, Melinda!

In the middle of the night, I was feeling sad that I was leaving Gio and Mila and Skye and Eli, but especially Gio.

⬆️Mila, Kev (Papa), and Gio

⬆️Skye and Eli

Gio’s my first grandchild, and I believe we have a special relationship, where our hearts are connected in a spirit-filled way. While I was away in Hawaii he told me, “Nana, sometimes it feels like I don’t have a Nana any more.” 💔😢

I don’t want him feeling like he doesn’t have his Nana!! I’ve got to figure out a way to help him know I’m still close!

Last week, Gio asked me to stitch up a special friend of his, Robot Stuffy. I did so, but didn’t give it back yet. And in the middle of the night, I got an idea. I have room in my bag, why don’t I take Robot Stuffy on the adventure with me? I decided to bring him instead of a small pillow I sleep with every night. (A remnant from having breast cancer surgery.)

This morning I instructed Kev to give Gio and Mila my little pillow. When they are missing me, they can give my pillow a hug. And I don’t mind if they sleep with it while I am gone. I will be back in a week.

And when I miss my grands, I’m going to give Robot Stuffy a hug. And he can sleep with me at night. And I plan to take him on some special outings with me while I am gone as well!

Now, Robot Stuffy, let’s see what adventures we can find!

To be continued!

🌺Aloha,

Linda

Janet was resourceful, fearless and kind. She could spin, weave, knit, crochet, sew. She also had a large garden. But perhaps the most amazing thing about her was her lack of fear.

⬆️ My grandmother Janet. I called her Nonnie.

Her garden was open. If you had need, you could help yourself to what you needed. If you needed a meal, come knock on the door, there was always something extra. Clothing, was home made, passed down, mended, shared. My guess is if you dropped by and your jacket needed mending, she’d have you come in and chat while she patched.

My dad loved to wander. He was outside as much as possible. As a boy, he used to go down to the hobo camps (homeless camps) near the railroad tracks. He’d listen to their stories and hang out as they jumped on and off the box cars looking for work. As it got dark, the hobos would ask him where he lived. One of those men would bring him back home and Janet always thanked them and offered them a meal, or a loaf of bread.

Folks were down on their luck. They were dirty, hungry, desperate. Janet knew that. But she didn’t see criminals, she saw people. Most of the time, she didn’t have extra money, but she shared what abundance she had.

We are in hard times again. We have circled back. But there’s a difference. We are now afraid. Our TVs and phones let us know ever bad thing. It can be half a world away, or around the corner…and we’ve heard about it.

These stories are terrify us. We close our doors and lock them tight. We don’t answer the door if a stranger comes. If see someone down on their luck, we don’t give a dime. Instead, we think, “They should fix themselves. They should get a job. They shouldn’t do drugs.”

We no longer give a helping hand. —We let a charity or the government “take care” of them. And our fear compounds. Meanwhile charities are struggling and can’t keep up with the needs, and the government is washing their hands of the needy and sweeping them out of our parks and off our sidewalks, and often into jail.

The number of helping hands are few, and now they are getting “bit”.

Last week in Phoenix, the city council heard 7 hours of discussion about whether charitable folks could help people in public parks. Could folks bring medical supplies? Could they deliver meals? The need is there and caring folks have been finding and helping homeless folks in city parks. They know expenses are up, evictions are rising, affordable housing has HUGE wait lists and shelters are full.

But fear stepped in. It claimed having these services made the parks unsafe for families and children. A child might find a needle on the ground. A family might have to explain to their children why a medical team or church or neighbors were feeding and caring for all those dirty weird folks under the tree. They would need to tell the children, “Don’t go near those folks, they might hurt you are kidnap you.” Because that is what we have learned from our TVs and phones.

And so, last night the city voted on the side of fear. Medical teams and food distributors will need a permit. Only two permits will be allowed each month per designated park. If you don’t get a permit but choose to help anyway, you face arrest, and/or a fine of up to $2,000. Folks can still distribute water, but that is the extent of the care folks can give the homeless in a city park.

Woe to those who are down on their luck. Helping hands will be fewer. If a person or an organization still wants to help legally, you must take time to fill out a permit request and compete with others who might want to help. If selected , you will need to have a large tent or a medical vehicle.

The law goes into effect on June 5th in Phoenix. Just as the temperatures rise to their heights.

I think of Mr. Rogers. When there is trouble, and you aren’t sure where to go, find the helpers. Go there.

Mr. Rogers, the helpers are clearly not in government. And the Janets of our time are being told to stay out of the park and keep their abundance to themselves.

We need more love and less fear and cruelty to those who need a helping hand.

We need more Aloha 🌺

Linda

I alway enter this day feeling a little off. A bit like an imposter. Yes, I am a mom. I birthed and helped raise 3 daughters. It was and is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

I struggled. I didn’t understand how to nurture and love unconditionally. And with each daughter, I had to reinvent what it means to be “mom”.

Yet, each of my daughters turned into a woman that I admire. And I know it wasn’t me that made them so. It is their village of care and their own determination that keeps them reaching toward caring and love and finding their way.

Somewhere, within each of us, there is a nurturing heart. It doesn’t come with gender, it comes with life.

So Happy Mother’s Day to all who nurture themselves and others. And if like me, you struggle with motherhood, know you are not alone.

And mom, thanks for loving me the best way you knew how. ❤️💐. You did good.

Aloha 🌺,

Linda

Carrie’s post today reminded me of an important experience and time in my life. Long ago, my husband and I were in Elk Cove, California celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary. I was coming out of a very rough time in my life. Years of counseling for me, and marriage counseling for the two of us prefaced this trip. I was still a bit “raw” around the edges.

⬆️ Elk Cove

The Elk Cove Inn was on a cliff that overlooked a driftwood beach. There was a dense thicket of bushes and trees before you reached the beach. One morning, I was walking the path to the beach. As I rounded a curve, there she was, standing in the path —a beautiful doe. She took my breath away! For a moment, we gazed at each other, then she bound into the thicket.

My joy was unlocked in her presence. I hadn’t felt simple joy in years. I was still unpacking anger and depression—struggling under the weight of expectations that I had laid on myself that weren’t true or needed.

But there she was…and all of a sudden, my eyes opened. The beauty that surrounded me came into focus: that lovely doe, flowers in the thicket, driftwood on the beach, the ebb and flow of the sea…even a little dog named Asta were lovely. And so was my gentle, faithful husband.

As the week unfolded, I realized even I was beautiful in the eyes of those who loved me. And I took a deep breath and accepted …the gift, and the simple joy.

⬆️ This picture of me and Kev was taken at Elk Cove in 2012. Our daughter Lisa chose to get married at the Elk Cove Inn in September of that year. (Our 20th wedding anniversary had been several years before.)

Carrie, thank you for the reminder of this time. You too saw a deer in the path, and understood the beauty and wonder of it all. ❤️

Here is Carrie’s post. If you like it, I highly recommend her substack! She is worth every penny!

A Gathering of Spirits

At Any Given Moment

Hi Folks, I’m on a family trip at the moment…but I wanted to let you know I was spending time with people I love near beautiful water and recharging my batteries before my last spring shows and then back into the studio with some of my favorite musical colleagues on the planet…

Read more

4 months ago · 32 likes · 12 comments · Carrie Newcomer

aloha 🌺

Linda

Over the years, I have had 4 visions of my heart.

Vision 1

I had a vision that I had encased my heart in a glass box. This caused me to lose my tears and hide my true emotions. When I tried to open up to my heart, there it was…in a glass case with no opening that I could see. I thought about breaking the glass, but I knew that would hurt my heart. I was stuck. All I could feel was anger and frustration. Love was trapped in a glass case.

After struggling and fumbling with this image, I went to the Jesus I accepted long ago. I prayed and asked him what I should do about my glass encased heart.

He asked, “Would you like my help?”

“Of course! Yes, please!” I begged. I could see no way to get it out.

He gently took my encased heart. He lifted the glass right off as if the opening was at the bottom and I just couldn’t see it. ❤️🥰. He placed my heart back within me. I could feel it within me, softly beating.

So much began to change in my life. I could see and feel things differently 😌. But now my heart faced new challenges. It was vulnerable to wounding.

My heart felt the struggles. It got scuffed, poked, bloodied. All my flaws gnawed and scratched. Some people I loved rejected me, others were so needy they sucked me dry. I tried to have boundaries, but my heart got wounded time and time again, like so many hearts do.

Vision 2

I journeyed back to the Lord. I sat by his side, took my blood pulp of a heart and handed it to him. (Eew🥴). I asked him to please heal it.

He gently examined it and said, “It’s quite strong. Yes it’s scarred, but scars are tougher than most flesh. Yes, you have a few wounds, but that is where your love and my spirit can shine through. Your wounds make you real. Your heart is doing fine.” He gave me my heart, and he gave me a hug.

I was reassured. My heart was ok—stronger than I thought. And my life took a new turn. I began to look around me and see where I could lend a hand. Life got fuller, and I stayed closer to the Lord I knew.

Vision 3

I was settling into a rhythm of care when life sent a surprise. After many years thinking my children would not bear children, and coming to accept I wouldn’t be a grandma, a new life came. Kim became viably pregnant with a grandchild. But my life was full, I had made relationships with others. My heart was full to capacity on a different road. How could I switch gears and love another, love a different way?

So I journeyed backto ask Jesus how this would work? And once again, he took my heart in his hands. As we sat side by side, he opened my heart and showed me all the chambers! Folks, there were more than the four we physically know about. He told me, there was no limit within my heart—no capacity when it came to love. You see, the heart creates chambers for new lives to love as we open ourselves to them. There is room for hearts to expand. Then he took me on a little tour of my heart. It was as if there were little rooms or bubbles within it. They were various sizes and flexible-expanding and contracting as I nourished them. Neglect made them smaller, attention made them larger. Jesus pointed out the newest room meant for my grandchild. It was already forming. 💓

Having greater reassurance and understanding, I stepped into a whole new world of love. First came Gio 🥰, 16 months later, Mila🥰. And life changed, my heart expanded, and retirement was full of little wonders. A heart truly expands and is nourished when you walk in step with a beloved child exploring the wonders of life and this world. And I am blessed. I am close to the children and now grandchildren I love. They know me, and I know them, and we are learning together about this life.

⬆️ This is me reading with Gio and Mila.🥰

Vision 4

Two little grands lived 5 minutes away. Open doors allowed love and action to flow between our houses. Now that’s blessing to the fullest! But life continued to surprise us! Mila wasn’t quite two when another announcement is made. Twins were coming! 😳🤭💓💓🥰! That caused my eyes to pop and I needed to take a deep breath as 2 new chambers started to form all at once! More love would need to flow from my heart!

As Kim’s pregnancy unfolded, fear made its way through the door. Blood tests indicated one or both of the twins probably had Downs Syndrome. This info came along with the information that one twin was a boy and one twin was a girl. That was more “reveal” than we had ever dreamed of. An unknown factor entered the room with fear. We knew the needs of babies, but we knew very little about the needs of babies with extra chromosomes.

After Kim shared this. I went home and started googling. 😞. Fear was shoving its way into my heart. MY heart said, “STOP!” I put my phone down. Google wasn’t the answer.

I went back to Jesus with little twins in tow! I didn’t even know if one or both had DS, but Jesus and I needed to talk about them, and talk with them. Seems Jesus was waiting for me. With great tenderness, he took the twins in his arms, and he began to sing.🎶 “Sing hallelujah to the Lord. Sing hallelujah to the Lord. Sing hallelujah, sing hallelujah, sing hallelujah to the Lord.”🎶.

Jesus stood up as he sang, and as he did, it wasn’t the twins he held, but their mother, Kim. And he motioned for me to join the embrace!

He kept singing with great joy! And as he sang, folks came singing. A whole chorus. I spotted my grandmas and great grandmas in the crowd! My grandpas were there. My Aunt Sadie, Uncle Roy, their daughter Suzie were there singing! And a whole crowd of others circled us and sang. Ancestors and angels gathered around us. We were not alone! We were loved, we were supported! The heavens were excited for us!! The heavens were excited for these twins to come and bless all of our lives.

My heart welled with excitement—pushing the fear away. Opening up an opportunity to not only love, but learn. My heart filled with joy and anticipation. And when I get worried or sad, I remember the song…I remember the singing 🎶!!

Later that day, I shared the vision with Kim. She cried. Well, I cried too. But we took the vision as a sign. It would be ok.

Over a year has passed. Eli has an extra chromosome, Skye does not. Eli was born needing surgery. We knew about it in advance and were prepared. He and Skye are progressing, each in their own way. We are taking it step by step with all 4 of these little grands. 💓💓💓💓

⬆️The twins! Skye and Eli and growing!

A Realization

These visions have giving me comfort, courage and hope. They have helped me know, I am not alone. We are not alone. And my help doesn’t come from google, or substack. My help is grounded in relationships…relationships in this physical world and beyond this physical world. For me, Jesus is a wise advisor. And so are my ancestors. But that’s not all, the people I love ground me, center me. And I’m just discovering our natural world can also be a wise advisor if we allow our awareness to focus on her living presence. Perhaps our Earth home will be where my next heart vision will come from. I don’t know.

My heart is strong. And it is gaining wisdom. I need to listen to my heart. She takes me to Jesus, she sends me to listen and learn from my ancestors. She sends me to listen and learn from the land. My heart reveals the beauties and struggles of our world in a way that provides opportunities and hope, and she helps me know myself. I need to be still enough to feel her beat, to hear her whisper.

Our hearts don’t shout like the world shouts. They don’t raise their voices. They speak in the language of love for anyone to hear, if we are still and inclined to listen. What are you listening to these days? Take a moment. Be still. Listen to your heart.

What is your heart telling you? ❤️

🌺Aloha,

Linda

I’ve had many good texting chats with my dear friend, Kathleen, in Olympia. She and I often share good articles and substacks! A while back I was scrolling the news, and Kathleen was sharing some interesting articles. Two very different ideas came crashing together for me. One is about church furniture, the other was news of a fallen banyan tree in Hilo, Hawaii. Yeah…odd crash.

Kathleen sent me this article from Front Porch News.https://www.frontporchrepublic.com/2025/07/of-furniture-and-formation/

I found out about the banyan on Facebook. Here’s a video of the fall: https://www.facebook.com/reel/1085064419777052?fs=e&fs=e

I’m hoping you can open both of these.

You may wonder where I am going with this. I wondering too, but there is a lesson within these unrelated stories. The furniture and the tree told me so! I’m going to see if I can bring it out.

Church furnishings that have brought folks together for community liturgical worship for centuries, and an enormous Banyan tree that has lived for centuries. Hmm. They have longevity in common!

Let’s consider banyan trees. A couple of years ago, a banyan tree made the headlines in Lahaina. The fire that devastated the town of Lahaina in 2023 also looked to take out the humongous banyan tree that people loved to sit under in the town center. Did you know that Lahaina banyan tree has a link with church?? It was gifted to the island by missionaries from India to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the arrival of the first American Protestant mission. This gesture of friendship and cultural exchange left its mark on the landscape of Lahaina. Did the tree survive the fire??

Here is what it looked like after the fire,

Here is a picture of it today,

This banyan tree was well loved before the fire, and great lengths have been taken to help it recover. It became a symbol of hope for all the folks in Lahaina who lost SO MUCH!

But what about the banyan tree in Hilo?

Was it not loved? Oh, I believe the people of Hilo love their banyans and appreciate their beauty and uniqueness. But it takes more than appreciation to help community trees thrive. You have to understand them and how they live. More often, we appreciate them, but encroach upon them. Roads, power lines, and buildings surrounded this tree. When this banyan tried to send out shoots and roots from her limbs, they were cut because they were in the way of sidewalks, roads…humanity. Without the space to stretch and grow, the tree couldn’t create more roots, it stopped being able to support itself.

Two trees with two different stories. We needed to understand the trees in order to help them thrive. Lahaina’s tree had celebrity status. Folk had been caring for it properly for decades. When it was scorched, they came to its rescue. Perhaps the people of Hawaii will consider the lessons of these two trees and provide more care for the banyans and other trees around the state, or perhaps humans will continue to encroach and the trees will have to do the best they can with or without what they need.

So how does an article on church furnishings fit in this story? I think it has to do with participating and learning in life. If we merely observe a tree as we pass by, we do not participate in life with it.

C Ben Mitchell speaks of the church furnishings as being formative. “The furniture of old churches and chapels formed the habitus of those who worshipped there regularly.” It was designed with our participation in mind. Pulpits on the left were for preaching. Podiums on the right were for reading scripture. Pew racks had space for the Bible, a hymnal, and the Book of Common Prayer.

From age to age, families came to this space regularly to learn about God AND to be in community. As they came, they learned and became familiar with the books and the flow. There were ritualized practices that helped you learn to navigate through a a Bible. A Psalm reading, an Old Testament reading, a Gospel reading and an Epistle reading every week. Folks participated—switching from the hymnal, to the Book of Common Prayer, to the Bible and back again. There was a habitual rhythm to the service. If you were young or new, it was confusing and daunting. But practice and experience allowed it to flow, so that slowly you learned to participate effortlessly, and sometimes, it revealed God and life within it and within the community of practice.

I worry that the habitus of the contemporary service does not form participants who are sharing in “the work of the people,” but observers who have come to watch the show. It’s as if we come not to participate, but to appreciate. We want a good band with uplifting catchy music. We don’t want to work too hard ourselves at the singing. Give us the words, and we might sing along—but be sure the song leaders are on key!

We enjoy trees. Their greenery, their shade can cool us on a hot day. But most of the time, we don’t consider what it takes to care for the tree community in our neighborhood. We don’t understand and aren’t participating in their care, we just appreciate their presence. We aren’t in community with them.

Participation, learning, understanding are formative for community. Whether it’s a community of trees—where much communication happens within the roots, or a community of humans searching for meaning, as some church folk do. There is as much give as take in growing old and wise together. Let us not neglect either the giving or the taking. Let’s work on participating with understanding.

⬆️ I enjoy sitting under this tree. I confess, I don’t know much about her, but I think she is a wise elder. She is in Honolii park, not far from where we are staying in Hawaii.

May we find balance within us and in our human community and in our natural community.

🌺

Linda

I wrote most of this article a while ago. It’s is my story. But I left it as an unfinished draft. Perhaps it still is, but I am putting it out there. It is my truth and my struggle. And it is unfinished.

When I was a young woman starting college, I felt the call to ministry. God tugged on my heart enough that I approached a very old, wise minister and share how I felt. He listened and encouraged me to let the senior pastor know. So I did. As I remember, that minister told me that was wonderful. He thought I would make a very fine church secretary.

My heart sank. Seems I wasn’t ministry material.

I continued my business studies at ASU until I married my husband Kevin. After he finished his law degree. I went back to school and finished my business degree and got a job as a computer control center manager back in the early 80s! Dino computers!! Guess what, I really didn’t like it!😩. When I had my first daughter, I didn’t come back after my maternity leave.

The next decade plus, I was a stay at home mom. I didn’t have any training for that job. By the time I had three daughters, I felt like I was a failure. I couldn’t even manage motherhood. Luckily, I was in a church with a lot of other moms and even a woman priest named Mother Jan. With Mother Jan’s help as well as the help of a host of wonderful spirit filled friends, I got counseling. Slowly the depression, anger, and fear began to lift. parenting got a little easier and a lot more honest. Soon I began exploring my next career while working as a church secretary!😜. But I needed a change that was closer to my calling.

⬆️My grown daughters-they survived!!👏👏👏🌺🌺🌺

I went back to school and got my teaching credential. For the next 20 years, I taught 3-5th graders at two different schools. 🥰. I really loved it. I enjoyed learning, I loved seeing kids get interested in different subjects. I loved planning lessons that went beyond the textbook. To be honest, teaching fed the kid inside me. And I also enjoyed getting to know most of the moms and dads of my students. I enjoyed my teaching buddies—my colleagues.

Ya know what? It felt like ministry to me 🥰. Caring for those kids and their families, caring about my colleagues mattered to me. And I knew it mattered to God. I always knew that the Lord sent children my way. Sure, I taught in a public school. No I didn’t proselytize and tell them they all needed to come to Jesus. But I did pray. I asked the Lord to guide me. I asked the Lord for help. Sometimes, I was so frustrated, I really didn’t know what to do or how to turn a child around. But the Lord knew me. He provided help, he provided ways out when I needed it the most. And he helped me grow and learn about all kinds of kids and all kinds of families. I loved my years of teaching. They weren’t perfect by any stretch, but yes, God gave me opportunities and moments to minister. 😊

Just before the pandemic, during my last year of teaching, I got cancer. It was small, but aggressive. I endured some of the fiery hoops of treatment in order to be free of the disease—surgery, chemo, radiation and targeted therapy. I argued with God about it, and then I watched him help. He provided a wonderful student teacher who was hired to come everyday. She came and taught the kids even if I couldn’t. ❤️. When the pandemic took hold, she managed most of the on-line set up while I gave ideas for what to teach. She ministered to me, and when the year was done, she took over the position. What a help she was!

As I settled into retirement and gained a new sense of “normal”, I wanted to minister. I cared about the friends I made in the infusion room. Cancer is a beast, and I wanted to find a way to come alongside and befriend those facing the fire. Again, I found myself chatting with my pastor. He allowed me to teach a class on how to be a friend to folks with cancer and long term illness. I was happy to teach the class, but I was a lousy program administrator. I soon found that I had made friends with some cancer buddies, but starting a group of caring friends who could help as needed didn’t really materialize.

Now I’m “Nana” to 4 grandchildren: a four year old, a 2 1/2 year old, and twin babies! Caring for them is definitely ministry. Caring, teaching, helping them grow and learn is an absolute delight. Helping my daughter navigate 4 smalls is ministry!

But I wonder. Am I a minister? Is it too late at 68 to become a minister? Is it necessary to have a title that is visible for the world to see? Can a person be a minister without a title or a credential.

I am a woman. I have been in leadership groups recently where I have shared my prayers and the answers I hear. But I am not heard. I am not recognized as one who has prayerfully sought the Lord. My suggestions and sharing of what I hear in prayer don’t seem valid in comparison to the men’s ideas. In that circle, I am Kevin’s wife. It’s ok if I teach…women and children. But I’m not a real minister when it comes to important matters of the church.

I wonder about this glass ceiling. Do I need to shift and be in line with the church. Or do I keep striving to listen to the Lord and do my odd sort of ministry in his name whether church sanctioned or not.

I’ve been busy caring for my family and trying to help friends as I can. Right now, I am resting and enjoying a respite from the business of life on the big island of Hawaii🌺. And I keep feeling a tug within my spirit, and it isn’t fitting into a “church mold”. But it is full of Spirit. It seems to be connected with the spirit of the land, the plants, the animals—Earth. I am uncertain how to engage, but I am listening… and I am posting, such as it is and such as I am.

🌺😘

Linda