Happy Endings, Part 2

When I wrote Happy Endings, Part 1 last week with the Rangers and Aggies most in mind, I was aware that at any time my dad could die of complications from liver cancer, although I didn't really think that moment was imminent. His last breath on Earth came Sunday morning, and of course the concept of happy endings grew in meaningful complexity.

I will write much more about my Daddy later. I've made a lot of notes but want to take time to reflect before sharing.

For now, I'm aware that there often are no endings; there are just transitions. Winning a World Series or NBA championship or Super Bowl may seem like a happy ending. But in very little time, teams, fans and commentators only care about the next win, not what happened in the past. I was hoping for a happy ending in terms of me maybe watching the Aggies play the University of Oklahoma in Norman on Saturday for the last time before A&M heads to the SEC. But it seems clear to me that if I didn't have to be there when Daddy took his last breath, I don't have to be at that game Saturday. There are many lessons for me in this and elsewhere if I will pay attention. Many potential areas of self-improvement have been revealed to me since my Dad's death. (But a dear friend also reminds me not to be hard on myself.)

Tonight I went to a premiere of a documentary about the life of Wayman Tisdale, a standout OU and NBA basketball player whose first love (outside faith and family) was music, and who had become a successful songwriter and musician on the bass guitar and an engaging concert performer before he died of complications from cancer in May 2009. I learned of the opportunity to attend this on Thursday while I was still in Texas with my family and surprised myself by saying I would go. Although I knew it would touch on some of the kinds of grief and loss my family is dealing with, I knew the sadness would be far surpassed by the inspiration and joy of Wayman's life, legacy and music. And so it was. My dad wasn't famous, but as they showed interviews of Wayman and others talking about Wayman's situation and how he faced it and had lived his life, it made me think of my dad in his much smaller realm of influence and the outpouring of love and friendship with which people responded to his life.

On the way home, I read that a faithful member of my church had also now died after a grueling battle with cancer. I immediately recalled having noticed his wife was one of the prayer team members who had prayed and signed a sympathy card for my family on Monday. There is another lesson and example I must take to heart and seek to learn from.

So, this starts as Happy Endings, Part 2. But it evolves into life goes on, day by day. It reminds me to live each day (and moment) as if it is the first -- and the last. Seek God's guidance; love, worship and serve Him -- part of which comes in loving and caring for people; and give Him the glory, thanks and praise.

What would you do if you knew? Part 1

What would you do if you knew? The question has been on my mind a lot lately as I've contemplated my Dad's cancer prognosis and then 9/11 remembrances and now some news at work.

What would you do if you knew you had six months to live? A year? A day? A few hours? None of us really knows how long we have -- 9/11 and auto accidents and deadly storms are reminders of that.

A few years ago, such thoughts would depress me and make me want to just shut down, crawl back into bed or escape into a binge of overeating. Today, the thoughts still overwhelm me, until I release them to God's care.

Some of the answers He has provided, for today:
-- Be still and know that I am God.
-- Seek God. Trust God. Obey God. Praise God.
-- Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! O what a foretaste of glory divine ... Angels descending, bring from above, echoes of mercy, whispers of love ... Perfect submission, all is at rest. I in my Savior am happy and blest ... filled with His goodness, lost in His love. This is my story ... praising my Savior all the day long.
-- This from today's Upper Room devotional: "My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest" (Exodus 33:14,NIV).
-- Some people get choices and opportunities. Some don't. We all have the choice to live in such a way that we have no regrets. (Even having regrets is a choice.) Love. Make things right. Amends. If I can't make direct amends (I can't change the past) I might be able to make living amends by doing better today and in the future.

This is titled Part 1 because it really does just touch the surface. News today that the company I work for is being sold -- with promises that nothing will change -- is another reminder that life goes on and changes happen, and I cannot predict or control the future. Some of how I learned this latest news seemed to involve a direct lie of something I had been told earlier, but on closer examination, I see how they got around it. But it sure makes me wonder: Who can I trust?

Well, I can trust God. And I do trust my parents and my family and many many friends. Based on that foundation -- trust in God and love -- I pray to face whatever comes with grace, gratitude, strength, hope, love and compassion.

Matters of timing

It's blog time. I was going to write about tricks of the trade -- techniques I've learned that seem effective in some areas of my life -- along with musings about why I can't seem to find such techniques to apply in other areas.

But the topic crowding my mind is timing. For everything there is a season ...

What brought it to the forefront was the tragedy at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington on Thursday, when 39-year-old firefighter Shannon Stone, who was at the baseball game with his 6-year-old son, Cooper, died after apparently losing his balance and falling over a railing and hitting his head on concrete after catching a foul ball he had asked All-Star and MVP outfielder Josh Hamilton to toss to them.

How can there be a season for something like that? All involved seemed to be engaged in life-affirming, family building, fan-friendly, innocent fun pursuits -- and such an unthinkable result occurs.

The game went on, eventually resulting in a big win for the Rangers. Players and other fans had reason to hope for the best regarding the father's condition (there were reports he was alert and talking, asking about his son) until they were informed after the game that he had died. And then what? How do you celebrate a victory when a child has just lost a father, a wife has lost a husband, a mother has lost a son, and countless others have lost a friend, comrade and hero.

Another game was played Friday, and even though they won decisively, the victory again was somber for the Rangers. Would it ever seem OK to really celebrate a win again?

I guess the answer came Saturday, when the Rangers were unlikely winners with a 2-out, 2-run walkoff homer by Josh. The team and fans -- and Josh, who'd been tormented by his part in the tragedy -- celebrated with the smiles and innocence of children.

I still can't wrap my mind and soul around how such a celebration seemed appropriate then and not the nights before. Many writers referenced Ecclesiastes -- For everything there is a season ... For a moment, it was time to play ball and celebrate.

I hope and pray that it was appropriate, and that family and friends of Shannon Stone -- and his wife and son -- somehow shared in the celebration. Reports had said Josh was Cooper's favorite player, and he and his dad had bought a new glove on the way to the ballpark, and their goal was go catch a ball from Josh. How does a child process that? How does a family?

Josh's response has been that he's just praying and praying. He's praying to know how and when to reach out to the family. In my mind, it seemed like maybe he already should have, and certainly that he should have said in his postgame comments he was thinking of the father and son as he rounded the bases. But his comments were just about baseball. That surprised me. But I believe him when he says he's praying hard for that family and about his response. And he expresses faith that God does have a plan and a hand in what's happening, even if we don't understand. I guess that makes sense.

But it sure messes with my mind. I want to believe that for everything there is a season, and I want to believe that I live by faith. But a Sunday school discussion today reminded me of what a worrier I am, and how worry really isn't compatible with faith. I pray and pray to know how to handle a situation -- or life in general -- but in reality, instead of truly trusting God to guide my steps (whether to work, play, serve or celebrate, etc.), I keep worrying and trying to figure out the right thing to do. And while I'm worrying and trying to figure out, I miss learning that a recently widowed friend was in town Friday night on a visit from Ohio. I don't know why I wasn't aware she was here. I would loved to have seen her. If only I kept closer contact with church friends ...

If only ...

I lack a good sense of timing -- what to do when. And it often leads to regret. Somehow, as events of this week made me even more aware of that weakness, they also reminded me that none of us can change the past. We can just choose our next action. Right now, I don't feel like I'm doing that very well. I'm stuck again in habits -- past actions. That's part of what the other topic would have addressed: "tricks of the trade" to change patterns and achieve better results. But that's for another time.

I've been praying as I've been writing, and the best I can come up with is that, for now, it's time to post and log off. And I do feel strengthened in my faith that God will show me what this is all about -- or use it to His glory anyway -- in His good time.

Random observances, perhaps with some similarities

It's blog deadline day, and I have some time while I wait for a phone call to be returned. So I'm just going to make a quick post about some seemingly random occurrences and observances, perhaps with some similarities. There's a pretty good chance I'll revisit some of these thoughts later.

-- Habits 1: My husband and I went to On the Border for dinner Saturday. It's not a place we usually go, but we had a $30 gift card and decided to use it. For some reason, when I go out to eat, it's become second nature for me to find the least expensive thing on the menu that I think will satisfy me. At Mexican restaurants, that's usually the tortilla soup. It works well, because it's the right amount (coupled with chips and salsa) and I like it very much. But when I looked at the menu, some of the combos really sounded interesting, including one of the fish tacos. But I ended up going with the soup and a house salad. When we got our bill, it was just a little over $22. That didn't leave enough on the card for another trip, but it seemed like too much to leave for a tip. After some discussion, my husband and I decided to leave all of it as the tip. After we left, I wondered why I didn't go ahead and "splurge." As I was feeling a tinge of regret, the thought occurred to me: Maybe the waiter needed that extra bit of cash. That thought makes me smile. And I liked what I had, so why even give it a second thought?

-- Habits 2. Whether it be chewing too much gum or some other reaction to stress that I know will make a situation worse (overeating, procrastinating), sometimes I think I'm the only one who does crazy stuff. But then I think a little more and realize everyone seems to have various kinds of habitual weaknesses. But when I finally confess to someone one of my deep, dark weaknesses, it seems like it's still easy for the other to say just don't do it. That really aggravated me when it happened Saturday, but I can't shake the idea that it really is the answer. Just don't do it. If eating/drinking/chewing when I'm stressed makes the stress symptoms worse, I've just got to find a way to stop. I may have made a tiny step of progress toward this today.

-- Singing breakthrough? When I sing, I really want it to be about the song, not about me. I just want to share the song and not get in its way. As with so many things, that's easier said than done.

-- Heavenly awareness. On Saturday night, while thinking of a relatively young friend (couldn't be too much older than me) who died unexpectedly Saturday and also thinking about how grateful I am for my Dad's resilient health, the thought occurred to me: Am I looking forward to heaven? When people die, I'm one who, so far, pretty quickly can accept that they are at a better place. But I had the awareness that I don't feel eager for me or my family to be there. In the face of some Bible study I've been doing, and maybe just growing older, I have to wonder about that. So many things I read suggest that people of great faith really have such great love for Jesus that, even while they enjoy their family and friends and time on Earth, they really do have a sense that they are just serving here and waiting for that glorious day. After Bible study Sunday, I mentioned my thoughts to the leader and asked if she's thought about that. She said she has, and she's ready. We had a good conversation. I think this is may be part of a very significant spiritual development for me. I'm not at that point of spiritual maturity yet, but I think I'm getting closer.

Sweet music of September: Back-to-school songs

I wanted to sleep until 9 this Saturday morning, but I awoke by 7:45, my mind racing. After getting up briefly, I petted the kitty at the edge of the bed, pulled up the covers and tried to settle back in to sleep. About 10 minutes later, I could tell I might as well get up. The mind would not relent.

The thoughts aren't worry, dread or fear; it's more like I'm incessantly trying to figure things out: How to share what's in my heart without boring or preaching. How to express my concerns without sounding like I'm worrying. How to know what is the right next thing to do in my home life, my relationships, my activities -- with family, friends, at work, church, in fellowship and at play. How to be part of the solution instead of the problem in all of these areas. How to reflect God's glory in all aspects of my life, including relationships and work.

These are the triggers to the most recent round of thoughts:
-- Realizing before I left work yesterday that I face three to four weeks in a row of my less-desirable work schedule, which includes tasks and circumstances I'm not as skilled at and comfortable in dealing with. I said aloud that I want to figure out how to approach this positively, confidently, productively and effectively.
-- Realizing I don't know how to express to my siblings some things I think they may be missing as our parents grow older and face health issues.

One of my biggest worries or fears is that I'll come across as too intense (my behavior was once described as offputting by a superviser at work), a know-it-all, a busybody or meddler. But I know that some of my most valuable lessons have come from finally listening to things I didn't want to hear. Others have come from watching people and learning from their experiences (in this case, seeing four close co-workers and two friends, all about my age, go through the death of a parent or spouse, sometimes unexpectedly and other times gradually, with varying amounts of suffering and angst). And one of the things I've learned is that I don't just assume I or others are "getting it." Sometimes the thing that should be obvious is obscure. I usually don't like it when people point out what I'm missing or any of my weaknesses, but most of the time I end up being grateful.

What does any of this have to do with "back-to-school songs"? Well, Mom posted on Facebook last night that she and Daddy went to the high school football game. I followed her post with lots of questions, ending with this one: "Don't you love having a kid who's a journalist, full of questions?" (This was after I had sent at least one question-filled e-mail earlier in the week.) Mom's response to the final question: "Questions are how we learn."

I believe that. Questions and discussion -- communication -- are a big part of how I learn. Experience is essential, too, but I learn so much about life and myself and others through conversation. I pray to continue to strive to not be overbearing or offputting but to also not be afraid to communicate, especially with family and friends. That is something I've learned since I've graduated from formal schooling. May I never quit learning in the school of life.