Today was filled with awakened awareness, what else can I call it when there is so much happening on the inside of myself, the outside can't keep up. I decided to be still and get into that space where I let God lead, which often means...road trip. So I got into Widda Black and headed to Hermiston; across the mountain to desert area where I last lived before moving to North Powder. No specific agenda...just go look and see.
     There was one particular place I wanted to stop but had a hard time finding my way. As I looked for landmarks, I  found myself driving to my old house; the one that was my two-acre mini farm, my dream place.
The sight silenced my being and I still cannot begin to describe my thoughts and feelings so I will wait on that one for another day. It will take time to digest it's message and come to some sort of understanding of why, if God was leading (and He was) He would have me revisit this particular place. I've seen places run down before but this made me speechless.
     The area was a bit more familiar as I traveled the country road I used to drive when I drove as a school bus driver, after falling from grace from my Alcohol and Drug Counselor position for the county. (More stories for another day)
     I pulled over and stopped my car when I saw the buffalo. The herd is larger than when I lived there ten years ago. It was about 100 degrees and the large creatures rocked forward and back as they breathed the dry hot air. I thought about the buffalo nickels we spent or collected when I was growing up. I remembered the first buffalo I ever saw. It was in an open field and my dad got out of the car to photograph it on our way to Mount Rushmore when I was a small child.
     Still shedding their winter fur, the majestic animal looked hot, tired, and dirty. The reality of today was in harsh contrast with my mind-view of wide open spaces, large herds of buffalo roaming free in tall green grasses that comes from watching to many episodes of The Virginian.
     As I photographed, I got one particular shot of the big guy that seemed to say what it was that I could not find words for. (photo below)

     Wow, there is so much going on all around me. Yet, I feel I've been in the eye of the storm; in the stillness while the outward twisting of a tornado churns 'round me. This year is not at all like my last year Memorial weekend experience. The Somewhere Over The Rainbow experience of the 2010 National Memorial Day Concert is a wonderful memory.
     This year, I am home. Two things I like to do is photograph and to spend time with the neighbor dog. The working cow dog is a story in itself but for this writing I will not go into detail.
     Often, since I can not bring the dog indoors, I will go outside to spend time with him, in his world. As I leaned against the shed wall, his head fit comfortably under my hand, I noticed a significant quiet calm, even a car driving by on the highway was an unwanted noise. I stood for several minutes scanning the scenery, listening to the stillness.
     The sun was shinning even though there was a chill in the air and the sky was dark blue. I saw half a rainbow as it  made an appearance in the distant eastern sky. My gaze took me to the fields that are now a vibrant green; the apple tree just starting to blossom and I watched as the horses grazed in the pasture. Me and 'lil boy' stood in His living room, content in each others company as we watched the red fox make its way through the field. What a blessing it is to have a peaceful heart and mind at the same time.
    Oh, to complete the experience I'll post a couple of the photos I took of my 'outback friends'.

     I'm reading the marvelous work of Emmet Fox. I would like to share the following excerpt from Alter Your Life which was first published in 1931.  This excerpt is taken from a 1990 edition.
  
      "The Western Pioneers have done their work and passed off the stage, but other work just as important and just as great is awaiting us their successors. The task which each American has before him is to realize the American Dream in his own life, to the utmost that he is able, by making himself personally free; free in body, and soul, and spirit. Free in body, by demonstrating bodily health. Free in soul, by liberating himself, as far as he can, from every clogging prejudice, whether of party, or race, or creed, or caste; from all the snobbery of limitations that centuries of oppression have burned-in to the life of the Old World. Free in spirit, by rising above all the fetters of personal greed and jealousy, petty spite, mean pride, and small resentments that are the common handicap of humanity in all countries. The American Dream is not a fine theory to be written upon paper, but a life to be lived, for its own sake, and for the sake of the nation, and for the sake of Humanity." ~~Emmet Fox

     You may think this story a bit curious, in fact, I don't know exactly where it will take us.
     Yesterday I met with several military widows of different ages for lunch. We have grown to like each other. At first, for many months in fact, we seemed shy of really getting to know each other. I think during our first meeting though, we all made a conscious choice to bond because those of us there had not had other military widows in which to meet face to face to share our lives. It took effort to even 'remember' to call, or send a card to keep the lines of communication open because we simply were not used to having this connection. Those meeting each month were faithful and as time progressed we began to open up and share our stories and looked forward to seeing each other. We didn't spend our time working off an agenda or politics of any organization, we simply had lunch together and enjoyed each other for being there.
     Then somewhere along the line it happened. We became a real part of each other and we began to bond. I listened to the stories during our last meeting and saw the connections that have been made from that first meeting which was held a little over three years ago. I see a group of older women who genuinely care for each other, ready and willing to open their arms to new members. I see a new face from the new generation of military widows and hear interesting stories of the differences of our generations in how we communicate and I hear open discussion of real life situations. Most of all I see women accepting each other and embracing our differences. It does not matter what generation or war or circumstance it was that brought us together, we are learning to relate...heart to heart.
     We lost one of our members recently by death. We will all miss her for that part of her that was a part of us. The part only she could bring. In another case, one of the members changed phone numbers. Not being able to reach her, another member contacted yet another member who directly went to check to see what was going on. We chuckled as we recognized the message, "if you don't stay connected we will send out the militia to check on you."
     Part of the challenge of not only connecting but getting to that point of feeling a sense of belonging takes persistence. Stick-to-it because many in the older generation still use old methods of communicating. And to top it off, our older generations are not used to being able to communicate feelings in regard to our personal stories.
     Each generation has it's own strengths and weaknesses. Each has it's  unique gifts and talents. There are times I get discouraged because I am not sure it is possible to build bridges across generations sturdy enough to carry the masses of military widows who exist today. Uniting means we must bridge the differences and accept each other as equal while we learn to connect heart to heart. The meeting yesterday encouraged me. I know my life is blessed to have a foot bridge between generations of military widows going on. It is a joy I would like to share as we all learn to interact more openly, heart to heart, widow to widow, generation to generation.

Military Widow group in Boise, ID. May 10, 2011, 
L to R: Pat, Joan, Dee, Brooke, Ann, Glenda and Irene.
You are my inspiration.

     If I write everyday, perhaps I could keep up and stop feeling over-whelmed when all the events start stacking up and I haven't purposefully addressed them.  I am a military widow and my life weaves in and around and through other military widows...finally. I say finally because of my personal history of being disconnected. Though we each have our own story and our personal walk, we need not walk our life journey alone.
     It was the desire to connect and unite with other military widows that made me start making outreach calls to other Gold Star Wives of America Inc., widows. I started with Boise, ID, the closest city to where I live. We gathered together a hand full of military widows and began a monthly luncheon. Our circumstances did not allow for us to begin a legitimate Chapter of Gold Star Wives of America, Inc., but we met anyway.  Even though I could not travel the distance every month they continued to meet faithfully. 
     Today, I was notified that one of 'our gals' passed away last month on April 19, 2011.
     My heart is saddened, yet, I am thankful to have known 87 year old,  Norma M. Parker. Her presence, her smile, her energy was always a blessing to me.
     There are many times that I just don't know what to say. I've been feeling that way a lot lately; questioning myself, discouraged and for a brief time...silenced. How important is it to UNITE? The generation before me, my generation, the generation after me, up to today's generation pretty much traveled our widow journey alone. There were pockets of support but nothing like what is available today. To me, uniting means life and death, it means quality of living, it means belonging, acceptance, and understanding, to name a few.
     In the beginning it was my hearts desire for ALL military widows to unite; the young and the old crossing the generation gap barriers, joining together sharing resources of strength, hope, courage, wisdom, energy, stories and experiences. The reality is, personalities get in the way and delay progress. We often stumble into pitfalls of politics, egomania and a hundred other personality differences that keep us from a unification that could richly enhance each our lives. For some of us we have traveled alone for much to long and it is hard to change up now. But we can. We must get past the shallowness of our minds and get to the heart of the matter. We need each other.
     Norma M. Parker, enriched my life in the brief moments and conversations we shared. Connecting is important and she always told me so with her smile and accepting joy each time we met.
     There are still too many casualties of war that include military widows. Last month we lost Nichole Haycock by suicide. I did not know her personally but I consider her my comrade. And, there are other widows who are still not connected with those who offer the understanding and support of another military widow. We have numerous day to day issues that need to be addressed not on the floor of Congress but on the phone and in the homes of our military widows, widow to widow. We can make a difference but we must do it with acceptance, compassion, understanding, hope, love and perseverance. Where we find a gap...build a bridge, but do not let that gap keep us from uniting.
      Further uniting of military widows will require we get out of the shallowness of our minds and into the depths of our heart. It will require that we develop the lines of communication with emotional maturity. We have an abundance of resource in strength, courage, compassion, creative talents, intelligence, faith, hope, and love.
     Tuesday, I will meet with the other military widows of our MAL GSW of America, Inc., Boise group, thankful, we have each other.
     RIP, Norma Parker, Nichole Haycock and all the other military widows who have gone before me. Thank you, you are not forgotten.
God's Peace,







 

     Sometimes comments are just to long for FB so I've started using my blog for such times.
     I enjoy watching a lot of the episodes of Mr. Monk. Today while at a car dealership, waiting for a part to be put on my car I noticed how employees wore some article of clothing, whether a hat or jacket, with their dealership colors and logo. It reminded me of the Monk episode, "Mr. Monk goes to the Office." I remembered the part where he was able to feel that sense of belonging that means you are 'a part of' someone outside yourself. In this case these workers could identify with each other as a part of this dealership. But some people, like Monk, like me, just don't seem to fit into these pockets of society, but that is ok. I smiled as I remember the Monk show, and knowing I've had many of those experiences in the past and though it used to bother me, now, I am so fine with who I am and who I am becoming.
     Then, I went to do some shopping at Wal-Mart. After a few minutes, I think I'm up to about half and hour, I start feeling drained. My energy, my mind, my thinking...all of a sudden I don't even remember what I am shopping for, I just want out of there. Shopping has that affect on me, it drains me of what I feel is my sanity. On the way home all I wanted was to get back to my state of peace of mind and heart. After leaving the freeway, rounding the old country road curves, I slowed for two mallard ducks. The male flew low across the highway and the female waddled across the last half of pavement before taking low flight across the pasture and there it was...my smile had returned. It's not every day when I'm driving home that I take the time to really look at the mountains and the country scenes all around me. Today I did. I feel so very blessed to live where I live and to be who I am. And, oh yes, to know and feel that I am a part of...this country scene. I'm home.

     My heart is saddened by the loss of Nichole Haycock a widow of war who recently took her own life. I did not know her personally, maybe that is part of the problem. Nichole was as much my comrade as soldiers are to each other who fight for the same cause but have never met personally. We still feel the loss.
     Nichole will not be forgotten if we allow her memory to instill within us the energy to fight on. Fight, I say, because only recently have we started developing support for widows of war. By knowing me or reading my personal account you get an idea of where I'm coming from. A long life with little to no support, many years of despair, PTSD, Chronic Depression and yes many years of being suicidal. It is only by the grace of God~I still live.
     Nichole, in her much to early departure, is a staggering reminder for us that there is still a lot of work to be done. We must continue to reach out to those who are currently struggling through grief. It is more than being here for them to come to us. It is US who need to throw out a lifeline to them.
     The grief tunnel is tricky. Let me try to paint you a word picture. Total  darkness, twisted paths made of granite in some places, sand in others, often narrow with cliffs on one side and pits on the other and just when you think you've found your footing the path gets very slippery. Curves block the light at the end of the tunnel and it is easy to get turned around and go the wrong direction because your inner compass is either malfunctioning or crushed beyond repair.
     We need to hear voices of truth, encouragement, strength, hope and love that rise above the cries and anguish of despair. There are so many who travel through this tunnel, the sound is deafening.
     We need light. Each of us can be a part of that light. By uniting we can increase its outreach. It can grow stronger; strong enough to reach those who not only walk through the tunnel but those who are continuing to battle in the trenches of their own mind.
     We are all connected. We understand grief whether it be from a loss of a spouse, a child, a parent or even a pet. When we connect with others who have had a similar loss our path can be made a bit easier. It is like the tunnel itself has different pathways. If I join another widow, my path seems more familiar, or if a parent joins another parent their pathway will seem more familiar to them.
     I approach the subject of grief from a military widows point of view only because that is my experience. We need never to compare types of losses, we need only to accept each other and to own our own loss so we can heal. There is no one way to walk this journey. We walk our journey. We walk alone, together, and we can do together what we can not do alone.
     By getting beyond the shallowness of our mind and into our heart we can unite and heal like never before. In the last 3-4 years military widows have made great progress. Still...there is more work to be done.
     The tragic loss of  Nichole Haycock is a serious reminder for us to keep working. Do not become complacent in our effort. The loss of one comrade, is one to many.
    R.I.P. Nichole Haycock, your sacrifice will not be forgotten.

     Today, I had occasion to go to my 'old home town.'  I was on the road I traveled for many years and the song started playing in my head..."The old home town looks the same....as I step down from the train...and there to meet me... was my ...." I knew it wasn't true, the town does not really look the same and I am certainly not the same, but my memories started knockin at the door of my mind. Memory upon memory; the deep seated kind that come from the all knowing far away subconscious to tantalize and plague my conscious mind.
     As I drove through main street I thought, "there are just way way way way way WAY to many memories here, not the good one's but the one's I don't want to relive, knowing once was more than enough." The deep rotted part of myself twist and turned, poked and prodded me with memories of my 'survival mode' lifetime when my goal in life was just to stay alive. Those memories need not be alive, they do not enhance my life and it is not necessary to give them more space, more time, more of any part of myself. I came home exhausted but feeling very thankful for my life...now.
     As I checked my Facebook page and email messages I was drawn to a picture of me wearing my Vietnam Widow of War vest as several of my AWPers and I visited Arlington National Cemetery last year. (If you are not familiar with AWP please go to americanwidowproject.org to see whom it is I'm talking about and I will continue my story.) The photo reminded me of the love and camaraderie we share, so I posted it before laying down for a much needed nap.
     Now, the best part of the story. I had a dream. (brief version) In that dream, I was troubled, walking toward the 'old house' from Mrs Evans new house across the street. Taryn was inside, just being Taryn, along with several other AWP gals. With each step I became more conscious of their laughter, dancing, singing and...living. My heart lightened and I felt a smile broaden on my lips until I was on the verge of laughter. I do believe it was that chuckle in my heart that woke me.
     From time to time, our conscious self will struggle with our subconscious. Subconscious being the part that records all the events of our lives and probably does not know what to do with those memories. They come up so we can once and for all put them in their appropriate place and put them to rest. It is very hard work to change a lifetime of wrong thinking into a healthier right thinking frame of mind...but it is worth the battle.