What Really Matters, According to Me

It was very easy to say ‘yes.’ Stephen had called to ask if my girls and I would sing a special piece at the funeral for his wife, Alane. At fifty-six years old, Alane died of Alzheimer’s Disease, after having been diagnosed only three years ago. Witnessing the progression of Alzheimer’s in such a young woman has been humbling and, honestly, frightening. The last time my children and I spent time with her, Alane had a seizure that lasted several minutes… More than 5 million Americans are living with Alzheimer's. (alzheimers.net) It’s estimated that approximately 200,000 people have early onset of the disease (meaning symptoms began before the age of 65, like with my friend). There’s speculation and lots of studies ongoing, but to date, scientists don’t know exactly what causes Alzheimer’s Disease. In a few hundred families worldwide, scientists have pinpointed several rare genes that directly cause Alzheimer's, though, and people who inherit these rare genes tend to develop sy...

We proudly celebrate our independence as a nation, and honor those who defend freedom. A nation is only as strong as its individuals united; hence careful exercise of independence is important. There’s an ancient philosophy; “United we stand, divided we fall” (Aesop, 6th century BC, The Four Oxen and the Lion). We see, in all facets of society, individuals seeking connections in various groups, clubs, cliques and classes. Belonging to a healthy community (even a small bonded union of two), strengthens the individual to stand for those ideals which are shared within the group. This is why many of us prefer exercising in groups. A well-structured fitness group helps fill our need to feel part of something bigger than ourselves; like we aren’t alone. Bonds forged in groups help us feel understood and connected; realizing we aren’t the first to walk the difficult path upon which we stand. As in all things, balance is key. Both connectedness and independence are important ingredients i...

“We talked about building a house on the home-place,” she said, “but that road is just too hard to travel.” I thought about those words. Truly, this little “home place” is ¾ of the way to the end of Sleepy Hollow; a narrow, very rough, dirt road that reaches deep into the hills between Blanco and Luckenbach. When it rains and pours, the Blanco River swells, and we hope we’re on the right side when that happens. If the naturally trending tendency toward nearly-impassable isn’t enough, a couple of earthen speed bumps (to slow traffic on a small and otherwise relatively flat and smooth stretch of the private road), have been installed by some family/neighbors, and effectively moderate my speed when I’m running late as I pass their place with a carful of kids all needing to be in town in less 20 minutes from the time we left the house (which is a full 20 minute drive, when I don’t drive too fast on the dirt road). I gladly and gratefully travel this hard road because it takes me where I wa...

While perched atop a scaffold recently, picking the ‘best’ plums from high in the tree, I pondered a conversation I had with a brilliant scientist/family member, not long ago. As it turns out, even among the highly intelligent and well-educated population, there’s disagreement as to whether or not truth is relative or universal... With that playing in my mind, I examined this magnificent tree. It was full of fruit; some of the plums were on the green side, some bursting with fully ripened goodness, and many at stages of development somewhere between. Below the tree were dozens that had fallen to the ground, being overripe, and were presently in a state of decay. (It wouldn’t have occurred to me that the fruit on the ground could be useful until my brother-in-law said he uses the newly fallen plums to make a beverage, saying they are juiciest and sweetest of all.) Picking plums seemed relevant to my conversation with the scientist, whom I love: I held that there is universal truth; he r...

The end of the school year is fraught with stressors, although intermingled with joy and pride in something completed. We’re ambivalent when graduation comes; sad because childhood is passing, excited with new horizons to explore. Even when everything goes right, transitional periods in life are difficult. When things go wrong during transition, sometimes excruciatingly wrong, the word ‘difficult’ suddenly becomes an inadequate description. Many labels might accurately describe the feelings of the heart in troubled or uncertain times; anxiety is one. Anxiety is a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome, according to Google Dictionary. Mild levels of anxiety are helpful, giving us momentum and increased motivation to try harder to accomplish a goal. Pain awakens anxiety, of necessity, to fuel our vigilance and endurance through a challenging event or period. High levels of anxiety, though, can be stifling. Very h...

There was tenderness in his words; “Sister, I’m here.” Then, touching her cheek; “OK, now. I’m here, Sister.” He carefully brushed the hair from her forehead with calloused fingers. That tough old farmer; soft as he communed with her for the last time. We’d come to say a final ‘good-bye’ to the only sister of six Blackburn brothers; Joyce. It’s really painful when your sister dies… or your brother. Of all human bonds, the sibling relationship is the only one expected to last a lifetime. Traditionally, we expect the day will come when parents leave this world, and most often, we live many years beyond our parents. We live decades before meeting and marrying the one with whom we hope to spend ‘the rest’ of our lives. We live years before bringing children into the world (and expect to outlive our children…) Siblings, though, are those we’ve known our entire lives (or close to it), and with whom we feel a sense of parallelism in life. Sibling relationships represent our past, present and ...

I stood on the inside, looking through the glass, as my friend waited for my help. She had turned the handle and pulled the door, but it was swollen with moisture owing to the rain, and didn’t open. She watched me come near the door and smile at her through the glass, but instead of pushing the door from the inside, I simply encouraged her loudly, “Try again.” Once more, she turned the handle and pulled the door, with more force that second time. It opened. If we had been somewhere else, I might have helped someone trying to open a door; but we were about to train for strength, endurance, flexibility and balance. I was in trainer mode. The help I gave her was encouragement and an expression of my faith in her. I knew she could open the door and that she hadn’t applied her full effort the first time. The obstacle wasn’t as big as she thought at first (wondering if the door might be locked). The door was unlocked. The failed first attempt to open it was due to an imagined limit. Rejectin...