Where did that come from?

Weirdest thing happens when we get mid-50’s. Things I thought I had mastered rather easily in life, now are becoming something I have to think about in order for it to work like my brain envisions.

Take writing for example. I had a nice round flow to my cursive skills. I enjoyed how my signature evolved with a large round D and then a capital B over just a portion of the D. With fairly large plump letters I would finish the rest of my last name of Barkman. I remember thinking that the letters looked confident and happy, depicting rather nicely how I was feeling.  I agreed that this would become my signature for many, many years.

Then, just last week my D and B became disconnected.  Between my B and the next small ‘a’ there was a larger space than I expected. What??! Where did that signature come from? That’s not me. I hope the bank still accepts the cheque that I wrote to my Contractor for the work that has been completed in my newly renovated kitchen. So far there has been no returned cheque but what changes are happening in my writing hand?

Changes - not only in my house but in my earthly ‘house’ as well apparently. I don’t like the latter! Yes my fingers are turning more because of arthritis but why are the muscles deciding to join that game now as well?

Another change I am suddenly paying attention to, is my conversation skills. I think one thought in my head but the words that are depicting that thought steer me in a very different direction than I intended to go. In frustration I have to back track and start again to explain what I intended to say in the first place. Sometimes I have to apologize for the words that took off out of my mouth with no one in the driver’s seat. It really is uncanny.

I chide myself that I need to slow down and think things through more carefully from now on. My writing and my speaking need to be more intentional.

But then I most certainly will be viewed as slow, incompetent and … can I admit it? – old.

‘Age gracefully’, they say. What does that mean?

‘Look up, smile and be confident.’ And how, exactly, can I feel confident when I have no idea what the rest of my body is going to decide on its own?

I’m seeing this scene being played out in my head. It is a warm sunny day in the park. A peaceful pond with a few ducks has folks sitting on park benches enjoying the summer afternoon. A beautiful poised silver haired beauty queen with a flowing purple dress and summer hat with a rather large brim, is just about to rise from the park bench where she is sitting. She smiles confidently as she greets an oncoming gentleman. She puts her feet beneath her as she pushes herself up with the expected grace, all the while locking her eyes with his gaze. Suddenly her ankle bends over, one leg shoots out in front of her, her elbow that was helping her push off from the bench gives out and she plops back onto the park bench, defeated in her attempt to greet him. But, oh, she is still smiling confidently. Her gaze has not wavered from the gentleman’s eyes. What is that? Is that aging gracefully? She is still smiling. Nothing in her body works, but… oh, she’s smiling!

Everyone ages. I just never anticipated it would be me too for some reason. I am still 35 in my head. I remember the poem my aunt had as a wall hanging in her home, “Serenity:  God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference.”

I cannot change much of what my body is doing, apart from exercise and taking medication that is keeping arthritis and the pain at its minimum. I can change my acceptance of reality and choose to accept myself as I change. Wisdom… yes. Wisdom is knowing the difference.

I smile! 

The Order of Organizing

I want to tackle my pantry and submit it into being organized. My next thought...should I buy the containers that would fit onto my shelves and then decide what I'm going to store in each container, or decide what I want on each shelf and then buy the containers that would fit the items? This totally feels like a 'Chicken/Egg' type question. Any comments of what you would do??

Wpg Mural - Where is it?

Can you give me the street name you would be on to see this mural? Normally you would see it from the other angle. The car at the bottom of the mural is closest to the street name I am looking for. Good luck. :)

The Impact

As published in the EMC Messenger on June 15, 2005
The story I wrote describing my parents' accident when Mom went to heaven.

by Delores Barkman

     “Call 911! We need an ambulance. Both people are unconscious, possibly dead.”

An elderly gentleman was being admitted in a small town hospital, having just arrived by ambulance. He was unconscious but his heart rate was fine. He had a few broken ribs and minor cuts on his face from glass hurled in the accident. He would survive. In minutes, he stirred and struggled to open his eyes. Total bewilderment showed in his eyes, then panic.

“Where’s my wife? What happened? Is my wife okay? Where is she?”

“Sir, she’s on another floor right here in this hospital. Are there any areas of pain?”

The head nurse checked his vital signs, and the man questioned where his wife was. Everyone was vague. The sheriff arrived and came to the man’s bedside. Heaviness showed on the sheriff’s face as he pulled up a chair and sat down.

“Are you feeling okay, sir?” the sheriff inquired.

“Yes, all right, but for a few places,” the man replied.

“Do you recall anything about your accident?” The man shook his head.

The sheriff gently laid a hand on the man’s knee. “You’ve been in quite a serious car accident. Your car was hit while you were crossing a service road and your car was totaled.”

Knowing the answer, the man asked, “And my wife?”

“She died upon impact. She did not suffer but died instantly.”

How does one process this news? He felt incredibly alone. The man’s eyes filled with tears but he remained silent.

“May I pray with you, sir?” asked the sheriff. The man nodded with a slight smile of joy for this sheriff with whom he now felt a connection in his spirit. After prayer, an inner strength filled the man and in his eyes was a look of peace. The sheriff knew here was a man of faith and he squeezed his hand.

An X-ray technician was waiting in the hallway. With misty eyes, the sheriff left the room.

As the technician worked, he wondered, “How could this man smile when he had been given such dreaded news? He seems so calm.” The man was cooperative.

Two nurses came in to give him medication, take his blood pressure, and check his bruises. “May I go see my wife?” he asked.

“We’ll just check with the doctor, sir.”

The man was wheeled to another floor to see the cold body of his wife. “She looks so peaceful and beautiful,” he thought. “We were just talking about heaven and now look at her. She’s gone and beat me to it.” He felt her hands and kissed her cheek. Yes, she was cold. Her body was not needed anymore. Tears trickled down his cheeks. He was ready to return to his room.

The nurse and other staff members marveled at this display of love, strength and faith. Saddened for him, they felt he had a hidden strength to carry him.

By next day’s end, some of his children had flown out to accompany him home.

“He’s leaving,” one nurse said to another.

“The man in 201 is leaving?”

“Yes. His family is with him now.”

“I’m going to say goodbye. He was so special,” she said.

The X-ray technician came in just then. “The man in 201 is leaving?” he asked.

“Yes, he is.”

“He’s a wonderful man. A strong faith, I think. I have to say good-bye to him.”

Hospital staff arrived to wish the man well and say good-bye. The family was amazed at the bond their father had established in this hospital so far from home. In one and a half days, this man had made a great impact on people.

Years have passed and this man still has an impact upon many people who meet him. He listens in coffee shops, mall benches or park walkways. He still has that quiet inner strength and faith.

He has a great impact on me. This man is my Dad.

Answer to 2nd What is it?

What is it?

Can You See?

Smudged glasses, grimy windows in Spring, a mud splattered windshield all bring on a very similiar feeling ... URGH! I get this tension that whells up inside of me when I cannot see clearly. You are identifying with this feeling as well. I know because it seems to affect us all in much the same way.

We want to see and we want our outlook to be clear. We want vision. We want direction. We want to know where we are going.

Over the years I have learned that those goals and directions cannot always come from my own making. I enjoy far too many things. Yes it keeps me from getting bored but it also keeps me from staying focused. I definitely need Jesus to show me the things best suited for me. His wisdom is totally superior. I do want His vision.

OK so the next warm, non-windy day, I'm washing my kitchen window inside and out!