Phantom Limb

 

Me and my family, 20 years ago!

Phantom Limb (def.): a vivid perception that a limb which has been removed or amputated is still present in the body and performing its normal functions. 

I realize I’m very lucky. I have never actually lost a body part, though the little ones that took up temporary residence in my uterus still cause intense feelings in me (including the two I lost to miscarriage). But I’ve been fascinated by the phenomenon of the phantom limb, a perception that can sometimes last for years after the appendage is gone. In these cases, while the person can obviously see that the arm or leg is no longer attached, the nerves and brain are sending a different message. It is as if an amputee can’t quite accept such a permanent loss, and so hallucinates that it didn’t occur.

 

But there are other kinds of phantom limbs, I’ve learned, and mine haunt me.

 

What are my phantom limbs these days? As I prepare to wrap up 20 years at my job at Christ’s Lutheran in May, I recognize many, right in my place of worship and work. After all, I believe we are, collectively, members of the body of Christ. So it only makes sense that losing other “parts” hurts. Many of these losses involve death, including a large number of beloved elders, but also younger friends whose passings were untimely (accidents, cancer, suicide). Often, I walk into certain rooms in the church building, or sit in the sanctuary, and feel their presence still. The sweet brigade of older ladies who expertly provided luncheons and soup suppers and coffee hours. The deceased members of the group of cheery retired handymen (“Monday Morning Men.”) The amazing Sunday School teachers who doted on my children, even when my offspring were rather less than adorably behaved. A pastor, gone too soon.

 

But beyond those departures, I ache at times for the people who are no longer in my life for other reasons. In most cases, we either drifted apart through geographical moves, or just the busy-ness of life. In a few, misunderstandings and hurtful actions (some, I readily acknowledge, caused by me) precipitated the rifts, and in many ways those separations are particularly painful because they seem so unnecessary now. 

 

There is no simple way to recover a lost limb, and often it’s impossible. We travel on through life’s journey diminished a little, always missing people who helped make us feel whole. Yes, every day offers opportunities for new relationships, new connections, and that’s a beautiful thing. But there’s really no replacing the ones who are gone. 

 

That is why, as I begin to pack up my books and transfer my files, in anticipation of my successor, I mourn. I also, truth be told, mourn the loss of 45 year old me, beginning a new career as spiritual formation director filled with energy and enthusiasm and hope. Where did she go? I hope that younger woman lives on in other people’s memories, occasionally causing a little pang, as if to say, “I’m still here, even though you don’t see me.” 

 

Just as I remember my lost ones, who live on in my heart.

 

With the 2005 Costa Rica Mission Team

Comedy Tonight

Saint Patrick's Church, Dingle (Ireland trip 2017)  

Last September I made my standup comedy debut at an event, playing an enthusiastic but totally mixed up woman giving a children’s sermon at church. It was very well received, and I breathed that sigh of relief one breathes when one knows one never has to do something again. Bucket list item checked off, for good and all!

But over the ensuing months, I’ve been writing a lot of humor pieces, and began to entertain the thought that MAYBE I’d do another standup routine. Someday. Maybe. At any rate, about a month ago Ya-Jhu started putting together an Irish-themed evening, a fundraiser for her church to be held March 19^th. She and Sher would play Celtic music, there would be Irish dancers, etc. I wondered, was Yaj hoping her mother-in-law, the not-so-marvelous Mrs. Maisel, would come up with a funny new performance for the occasion? At first I modestly said no, but then she actually asked me, and I said yes. Armed with only a decent Irish brogue and some whatever the Gaelic word for “chutzpah" is, I settled on an idea: I would play the part of Saint Patrick’s long-suffering mother.

 

As soon as the concept struck me, the writing was pretty simple. I have more than a passing familiarity with Patrick (heck, I named one of my sons after him!), I am Irish as the proverbial Paddy’s pig (get it?), and I was a longtime Catholic to boot. My vision of St. Pat’s ma’s presentation included her “settin’ the record straight” about the various legends surrounding the Patron of the Emerald Isle. Apparently he never drove the snakes out of Ireland at all (it’s an island, nobody can drive out of there, right?); the Holy Trinity shamrock story didn’t happen because of Paddy’s allergies (no fields of clover for him!); in fact, most of his amazing tale was  invented by Patrick’s "eejit" pal Seamus Kelly, who always had wanted to be friends with a saint. 

 

I had a blast, and was really pleased with the crowd’s response. Aiden and Peter were there, and when I later asked them what they thought, little Peter piped up, “Nana, it was so funny when you said, ‘Phooey!’” I rather think my five year old would have been delighted had my whole routine been nothing but saying “phooey” a hundred times. 

 

While I certainly don’t aspire to be the next Joan Rivers, at this point I’d do standup again (if asked). The discipline of writing, and then memorizing, what was essentially a 10 minute monologue will serve me well (or at least reassure me that I’m not – yet—experiencing significant memory loss). 

 

They say the happiest retirees are those who pursue new activities. Therefore, after May, I plan to pursue such new-to-me pastimes as regular flossing, more frequent dishwasher emptying (for some reason I have no issue loading it) and sewing my own clothes (not really). Idle hours watching TV commercials for AARP? Nope! It’s pure adventure (including stand up) from now on!

!

                                       Sheridan and Yaj in performance Saturday night!

                        

Life is Like...

Not sure why, but Nas says life is like this...

I once read an essay comparing life to a train journey. The gist is: we’re all definitely heading to a final destination, right? And we get on at different stops, and pass lots of scenery. And I think we have to show our tickets at some point, to a conductor (Jesus? That always seems to be the right answer). Now, as I write this, I guess I've forgotten some of the piece’s finer points.    

But it did get me thinking about life, and all the ways it has been described. Bowl of cherries. Box of chocolates. Camera (“develop from the negatives”—this one has lost some relevance as my iPhone pix do not require development). Roller Coaster (ups and downs and screaming, I suppose). The Scriptures weigh in (“For what is your life? A vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away”--James 4:14). And of course, the song Life is Like a Dice Game by Nas, the lyrics of which fail to explain the simile, but it has clever rhymes like Haile Selassie and Asti Spumante, so you’ve got to give it that.   

Since there are so many “life is like” quotes out there, I figured I’d add a few more to the mix, based on personal experience. Here we go:  

Life is like flat ironing your hair and then you get caught in a rainstorm without an umbrella and suddenly your hair is all frizzy again: you may think you look pretty, but soon it turns out you’re really all wet.  

Life is like paying a fortune to your children’s dentist, and then you let the kids keep eating bowls of sugar frosted lucky charm cocoa puffs: it’s filled with lessons you never seem to learn.  

Life is like a dripping faucet in the bathroom in the middle of the night: it can be really annoying, but not annoying enough to get out of bed and do something about.   

Life is like a ceiling fan: it can be very cool.   

Life is like a pot of boiling polenta: it can also burn the heck out of you.   

Life is like that bar of decorative soap you got one Christmas: it’s too fancy to use, so you just leave it under the sink for the next 10 years. Not sure how that one applies, but it’s definitely something I’ve experienced!  

Life is like a tsunami: it looks so calm that you walk out into the water and then whammo.  

Life is like an aerosol can with a clogged nozzle: you shake it, you know there’s still stuff in there, but you can’t get it out.  

Life is like a skateboard: for God’s sake, be careful!  

Life is like a DVD collection: now that you have them, it’s hard to find a player anymore.   

Life is like a peony: a beautiful flower filled with ants.   

You should try coming up with your own “life is like” comparisons, friends! It’s a fun way to waste precious moments of…your life!

Peonies: how like life!

I Warned You!

Thank you for your service, Mr. Canary

From the late 1800s to 1986, before the development of electronic detectors, coal miners habitually carried canaries down into the mines with them. The idea was that these small birds would react much more quickly to carbon monoxide, and when they keeled over, the humans would know to skedaddle. I’m no animal lover (I’m more an animal tolerator), but this used to really bother me. I completely understood the need for some kind of warning system, but all those poor dead canaries! 

It was with great relief that I learned about the resuscitator cage. Developed in the 1920s, this was a special cage for those little feathered prognosticators. When a bird started looking droopy, the circular door would close and oxygen would be injected by a valve from a tank on top of the cage. The result was a revived canary—and duly warned miners. It seems that the miners were very fond of their chirping companions, and determined to rescue them if they got into trouble. 

 

Early warning systems of one kind or another have always been with us (read your Bible and try to count the number of warnings issued by prophets—OFTEN disregarded). As technology has improved, these systems have gotten more sophisticated, but the concept is the same: getting out in front of a disaster and hopefully averting it, or at least mitigating the damage. Sometimes the systems fail (I’ll never forget the terrifying false alarm my sister received in Hawaii a few years ago about a possible attack by North Korea), but far better to have a system in place than not. Btw my favorite title for one of these is the California earthquake warning system called Shake Alert, which sounds rather lighthearted, something an ice cream parlor might use as an ad (“Shake Alert! Try our yummy triple chocolate milkshake!!”).

 

In addition to natural catastrophe warnings, there is the EWS Network for Student Success, which identifies risk factors that impact school performance. There are various warning systems developed by the World Health Organization to predict future pandemics and other infectious diseases. I am already dreading the age when I will be asked to take a cognitive ability test to screen for dementia, because I can absolutely see myself freezing up and saying that the current president is Rutherford B. Hayes. 

 

As a parent, I was quite the seer, telling my children that if they kept tipping that chair back they would fall, that if they didn’t REALLY brush they would have cavities, and if they didn’t stop poking their sister they would get a timeout. They rarely heeded me. But I was always 100% correct! So there!

We can’t live our lives paralyzed with fear, for sure, and there are risks worth taking. But when there’s a lot on the line, for ourselves and others, I think we’d all do well to take notice of warnings, most of which are issued to protect us. 

 

And in our dangerous world, that’s not a bad thing.

Shake alert! You've been warned!

Meeting the Moment

May God hold Ukraine--and us--in the palm of God's hand
(photo by Elena Mozhvilo for Unsplash)

In the Book of Esther, the Jewish queen is told that perhaps she was made for “such a time as this.” And Esther does indeed rise to the occasion, and saves her people from Haman’s wicked plot. It is a powerful story of personal destiny and responsibility that has always stayed with me. In a cynical world, those who selflessly sacrifice for others (even total strangers) in service of a greater good, seem rare indeed. Even foolish.   

Yet this is what seems to be what is happening right now, in Ukraine. The brutal invasion by Vladimir Putin’s troops has shown the world that the Ukrainians are people of great courage, unfaltering love of country, and willingness to sacrifice, and even die, for the ideals of freedom. Were these people, like Esther, made for this moment in time?  

I’ve noticed that Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky and my Steve share several things in common. they are actors. They are comedians. They are both a bit height-challenged. And they are, in my opinion, both people of character and integrity. Now, whether my hubby would have the courage to meet this terrifying moment as Zelensky has, I guess we wouldn’t know unless he found himself in a situation like that, but I like to think he would. In any event, Ukraine’s leader has moved me to tears several times with his videos, in which he rallies his country and vows to stay with them, no matter what. This from a guy whose entire prior political experience was playing the part of a president on a Ukrainian TV show called “Servant of the People.” Who would ever have guessed?   

But “such a time as this” includes a pantheon of other dreadful situations, globally and at home. Two weeks from now, we will mark two full years since the lockdown at the start of the pandemic in the US. Our climate is raging out of control, and many experts are warning that we are approaching the point of no return if we want to change course. And then there’s the poisonous discourse and division that have re-written “love your neighbor” as “love only those neighbors who fully embrace OUR mindset.”   

Like it or not, THIS is my time—and yours too. There’s been plenty of finger-pointing over what started us on this downward slide, but it almost doesn’t matter. Here we are, all of us. And the future, while unpredictable in some respects, isn’t looking very rosy right now.  

But what if, like Esther and Zelensky, we recognize that we were born for this time, and no other, and meet the moment with bravery and resolve? We may succeed or fail, but don’t we owe it to the next generations to try? It’s at least possible that one or more of us has the key to saving our planet and humanity—and if we seem like unlikely heroes, who’s to say that disqualifies us?   

Ask the TV president turned real one, leading the fight for Ukraine.

president of my heart