It’s All Connected

(or How a Blog Got Its Name)

About five years ago I began treatment from an acupuncturist. At the end of our first session I felt better in several respects, but mentioned that I wanted him to work particularly on my knee pain. He then took one of the tiny needles and inserted it into my breast. The pain in my knee was gone, temporarily. In amazement I asked him how he did that. In his Chinese accent, he replied, “Pat, it is all connected.” I was reminded of that several times subsequently as treatment continued.

Perhaps because I heard these words so often from Dr. Ly, and because they wormed their way into my psyche, I began to notice how much of life is all connected ~ just as he said. Remember the old game of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon? It was based on the “six degrees of separation” premise that most of us are only six relationships away from any other one of us on Earth. Supposedly I know a person, who knows another person, who knows another person…..and within six relationships I could connect to actor Kevin Bacon, who apparently was selected arbitrarily as the target of the connectedness. It’s an interesting concept, and the game was popular for years.

Hasn’t being connected taken giant steps with the escalating technology of today? I recently observed workers leaving a large medical building at closing time. Almost every person was connecting with someone on a cell phone as they walked to their car. Is this type of connecting reaching epidemic proportions?

Not only are human relationships connected, but there are countless connections in nature, and every aspect of life. Scientists are discovering new ones continually.  

Being connected in unusual ways is fascinating for some of us. Not long after joining Facebook, a new young fb friend in my Sunday morning class asked me how I knew a longtime friend fb friend who lived hours away on the Gulf coast. Turns out the young woman was a student of the older friend in elementary school in Michigan many years ago. We were amazed and excited to know that we shared friendship with Sandra in common. Because of Facebook many such connections have come to light. And what fun it is to learn of them!

In our Wednesday night class, we share stories of God’s obvious and amazing power working in our lives. So often we have been astonished at the ways He has connected seemingly unrelated factors to bring about stunning results. It has happened so often now, that we find ourselves shrugging, smiling, and saying, “It’s all connected!” It’s an unofficial motto for the class.

For many years I have known that life is all about relationships. Jesus said it long before I did. The number one relationship is ours with Him. And the second is our relationship with our fellow-man. These relationships are so vital that Christ named them Commandments One and Two. Nothing in all of a spiritual life is more important.  

If you are reading this humble attempt to blog, you and I have a relationship. And I dearly love connecting with you. We may not see each other often ~ or even ever ~ but we are connected in some manner. And, for me, our connection is a passion. I know you have something to offer that will enrich my life, and I trust that I can bring something to the relationship that will benefit you. I wish each reader knew all of my wonderful friends, and that I knew yours. Who knows? Maybe we do, and just haven’t figured it out yet. After all ~ it IS all connected!     

Honey McMackin

June 18, 1917 – September 24, 2006

On an ordinary Sunday afternoon six years ago today an extraordinary woman slipped from this earthly life to the one for which she had lived most of her years. My mother, Honey Brigance McMackin, was a woman of unfading beauty with a quiet and gentle spirit. Even so, she had a zest for life uncommon for one her age. Her keen mind and youthful spirit were an inspiration to all who knew her, and persisted until her last day. There is always an extra ache in my heart on this date.

Mother greeted each day with a sense of wonder as to what delights the following hours would hold. It was she and my dad who instilled the optimistic outlook in my brothers and me ~ and it has served us well throughout our lives. She wanted to never stop learning, and she was interested in everything. She worked the daily crossword puzzle even when in ICU; and was insulted when she had to work it in pencil because pens wouldn’t work while she was lying on her back! When sorting through her personal effects I found clippings and articles on every topic imaginable tucked into the many books she had read. At age 85, she discovered email, and that opened a new world of delights to her.

My parents traveled widely and hosted guests from all over the world in their home. Mother loved communicating with her great assortment of friends, and I am almost certain that she saved every letter that was ever written to her. I have enjoyed immensely getting to know her better as a young woman from reading the diary she kept as a teen, and the letters from her dear friends of that era.

Possibly the greatest adventures of Mother’s life came when Daddy was in the Navy during WWII. They had so many tales to tell of those years. One of our favorites was of Mother and another Navy wife driving from Tennessee to California in order to be with their husbands for just one night before the guys shipped out of San Diego to fly bombers off of an aircraft carrier in the Pacific. As the two brave women drove down the coast of California the weather was so dark and foggy that Mother had to stand out on the car’s running board and try to navigate for the driver who couldn’t see anything. They, and other such women, were surely part of the Greatest Generation.

There is so much I could share about my mother ~ her love for family, for her students, for proper grammar, for four-leaf clovers, for cooking and entertaining, for laughter, for flowers,……… and the list has no end. Above all, she loved her God, and the grief I (and all) experience with the loss of my mother is assuaged only by knowing that she is with Him, and we will all be gathered home once again some grand day.     

A Lifetime of Letting Go

As we (mostly I) proceed with the winnowing of our earthly possessions, I find myself reflecting over the many stages of letting go in my life. That train of thought has brought me to dig deeply and try to remember the first conscious thing of value I had to give up. The very first, which I don’t remember, was my dad going off to WWII. He was home on leave when I was born, but left for the Pacific theatre soon thereafter. I suffered no ill effects, as far as I know, although it must have been very difficult for my mother. My first memorable sacrifice was my princess throne relinquished at age 30 months when the intruder, my brother Mike, was born. That was a tough one whose effect lasted more years that I am willing to share.

The second strong sense of letting go was when I let go of all my young school friends to transfer to another school in the eighth grade. I didn’t know it would distance me so severely from all my childhood friends, but it was not difficult because the new kids were so friendly and welcoming that the transition was easily made. Then leaving the comfort and security of a stable home to go away to college was quite an adjustment. Looking back, I see that my parents were wise in encouraging my brothers and me to strike out for independence. I didn’t realize then that they were letting go of even more than I was.

One of the most emotional releases was along the same vein as it was the day all of our children (both of them) left for college at the same time. Contrary to what I supposed, it was one of the hardest days of our lives. Buzz and I came home and sobbed for what seemed like hours. It had been a sunny, busy, fun-filled day with lots of chatter prior to our leaving home in the morning. And we returned home at dusk to a mausoleum. We knew that we had released our sons to the world, and that family life as we had known it would never be the same. Most of our responsibilities as parents were over ~ and we knew it. To this day, I still feel a twinge of sadness as I remember; but we wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Buzz and I have had to give up various friends and relatives to death through the years. His parents passed away in the earlier years of our marriage. Then in 2005 we began losing some of those closest to us at a staggering rate. He lost his only two (older) brothers. Soon after, my vibrant, vivacious, exceptionally bright and alert mother passed away after a brief illness. At almost the same time, one of my closest friends died. Then nine months later my dear middle brother, Richard, died unexpectedly. Then another best friend died just before my precious dad passed away. Each death was devastating in its own way. I learned that no matter how many loved ones you give up, there can always be more. And I learned that we don’t necessarily grieve concurrently, but consecutively. Grieving takes time. There are no shortcuts to this kind of letting go. It took years in my case.

So this brings us up to the present. After much thought and prayer, Buzz and I let go of the church family of which I had been a part for 65 years. Not exactly easy, but quite doable under the right circumstances. And so we move on. Now it’s the only house we’ve ever lived in during our 42 years of marriage that we’re letting go of. We can’t allow ourselves dwell too much on the memories these walls have seen. We have pictures, both mental and on paper. It has been our shelter in the time of many storms. And we pray that it will provide a blanket of warmth and protection to some other family in the years to come. We’ve gussied up the old girl, and she’s in good shape for the next occupant. And we hope she’ll be appreciated and cared for as well.

So, it comes to me as I write, that the physical possessions with which we are parting are of little value compared to the other meaningful partings we have experienced. I learned long ago when I went to the overwhelming gift markets in Atlanta and Dallas that it’s all just junk. Some of it is really beautiful, expensive junk. But junk, nevertheless. The hardest things from which to separate are the ones with the sweetest memories attached. And we can’t put a price on those. But even then, the folks connected with the memory will be with us in the hereafter; and I believe the trinkets of life will hold no meaning or even memory as we at last behold His Glory.        

Where There’s a Will……..

If ever there was an appropriate old maxim describing our weekend it would be ~ where there’s a will, there’s a way! Our patient, considerate, hard-working, strong son came home once again for another weekend of Helping the Parents. We are trying not to abuse or exasperate Will, but his help is of inestimable value as the cleaning out continues. And, to be fair, Drew would be of great assistance as well, but he lives too far away to come for a day’s help.

This job is taxing. For one thing, Buzz and I try to be more patient with each other when Will is around, exemplifying marriage as a good thing ~ in case he ever wants to try it. And, believe me, that effort is not always easy! I’m quite certain that I am trying harder than Buzz. I have swallowed more “You’ve gotta be kidding me”’s than I can count ~ replacing them with “Yes, dear”’s. Have almost choked several times. Can’t imagine why, but Will is more effective in reasoning with each of us with regard to what we need to keep than we are with each other.

We finally got the storage room organized, and it’s a beautiful thing ~ relatively speaking. We have a box of tools ready for the yard sale that is too heavy to lift. And we found a heavy old wooden chest with an enamel top that was buried under all the stuff. Buzz says it is over a hundred years old, and sat on the family back porch all his life. We cleaned it up, painted it, and sprayed the top with appliance enamel, and Will now has a spiffy chest for his storage building. I love it when that happens!

The painters have finished. Just before the last one left, I managed to rip my towel bar off the wall so that now he has to come back and repair it. I’m my own worst enemy sometimes.

Having been advised to clear out all the clutter in our house before we show it, I gathered all non-hanging pictures, antique vases, etc., boxed them up and removed them from the house. Of course, our stuff is not clutter (ahem!) but treasured family pieces. And we haven’t even scratched the surface. And incidentally, what are we supposed to do about a life while this process is underway? If I let my mind go to what’s still ahead I’m afraid I’ll back out. Buzz is supportive, but it’s the wife/mother who decides about all the junk in the house. We’ve got his storage room done, and he’s ready to roll. At times, I’m ready to cave! I shouldn’t even be writing this. I should be clearing out stuff. But things tend to get blurry in time. It’s my therapy. That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it!

Let the Purging Begin

The ordeal of getting our house decent and orderly is going to be a monumental endeavor. I can tell that already. My house would not be featured as a hoarding clean-up challenge, but I might be a pre-hoarder. Buzz and I were not reared during the Great Depression; but we were reared by parents who were. And those values of waste not/want not were firmly rooted in our little minds from early on in our childhood. It was not prudent or even scriptural to frivolously discard something that was still perfectly useful. And that covers a wide range of items. Okay, it covers almost everything. And we learned the lesson well.

Those who know say we need to clear out any clutter that will be distracting to a potential buyer. Lots of folks rent a storage building. We are blessed in having a large storage room attached to our house. We are not blessed in having it filled with the miscellany accumulated during 41 years of living in the house. So the cleaning out begins.  

Will came home to help over the weekend. He can do in a flash what takes Buzz and me an hour to do. And he’s so cheerful ~ which is refreshing when Buzz and I have enjoyed each other all we can stand. And Will is better than I am at persuading Buzz to let go of stuff. For example, Will talked Buzz into letting our next door neighbor have his four (yes, four) crowbars.  Fact is, I can’t remember when we’ve used a crowbar ~ but I guess you just never know when you will need one ~ or four. Anyway, the logic is that Jerry is now housing the tools, and we know where to go if we need one.

We lugged stuff out to the street for the city to pick up, and several things were picked up by scavengers almost before we walked back to the house. We made remarkable progress, and hope to finish the job on the coming Saturday. Will even took time out to watch the Bama game.

My job has been to clear out stuff in our bedroom. There have been some fascinating finds tucked away here and there. When we cleaned out my parents’ house a couple of years ago, I brought boxes of things to my house to sift through at a later day. Nothing like knowing strangers are going to be coming through my house to cure procrastination. I’ve just discovered the diary my mother kept in 1933, 1934 and 1935 when she was about 15-17. Oh, my! She had a fun life. (I might have known!) She told of her dates, her crushes, her travels and so much more. I wish I’d known her then.  I can hardly wait for the time when I can settle in and read it all. I also discovered a very old fabric-covered cigar box with letters written in the mid-1800 by members of my dad’s family. And the list goes on. Will I ever have time to savor these treasures?

And, as is the case always in my life, there has been laughter. I’m trying not to let the ongoing stress get to me. But I did forget my last name last night. There was a gathering after church, and I met a very nice new couple. We were repeating our names as we parted and I told her my last name was Lamone. She gave me a puzzled look, which prompted me to rethink my answer and correct myself. It’s pretty bad when one can’t remember her own last name. My friend Kathy is taking a supplement of some sort that is supposed to help her better focus. She soon locked her keys in her car, and we decided the product might not be working yet. Don’t think I’d better try it……..

Looks like this story will be going for a while. Please don’t judge my writing too harshly. My ol’ brain is so fragmented right now that I hardly know which end is up. I’m writing all this more for me than anyone so I can look back and remember how it all went down.

Friend Scarlett posted instructions on my fb page for commenting at this site. Sounds complicated, but it’s not. Encouragement of any kind is appreciated. As Buzz would say ~ this, and one more time, makes the second time we’ve ever moved. I’m told we will survive. I’m wondering……..  

Is This the New Norm?

Today the push was really on in getting this place in shape. The outside guy was working hard, and the inside painter was under the gun to get finished. What a blessing it is to have a decorator friend who once worked at Lowe’s in the window covering department ~ when ya need blinds! Gave me a great excuse to be with her again, and use her expertise in covering a window. We were just chattering away as she measured, and we jumped in my car to head to the store. Then we each remembered something we had forgotten. As we hurriedly exited the car I realized that it was in neutral, and it started rolling out in the street. I was yelling, as if that would help, and trying unsuccessfully to get back in to the brake. (I was a vision of dignity.) The car proceeded to roll gently on as I chased it, finally stopping at the curb across the street. Fortunately no other cars were in the road. Close call.

At this point in the day, the painter is finishing up the bedroom, it’s paint store closing time and he hopes he has enough paint to finish the room. The carpet people are coming in the morning and it will be a big deal if the painting is not completed. I feel like crunch time on HGTV. It’s stressful enough to watch it on TV. Living it is definitely worse!   

Speaking of Crazy……

Has anyone noticed the frequency with which we hear the word “crazy” these days? It was often used by Olympic sportscasters as in, “he worked crazy-hard for this time”, and such. Crazy-hard. Hmmm…… Not a combination I would have thought about putting together. Nevertheless, when describing our lives on Woodmont lately, crazy seems to fit quite nicely.

After 41 years of living in the same house, Buzz and I have (possibly taken leave of our senses and) decided to move across The River. If you live in our part of North Alabama, you know that The River can seem like it’s 20 miles wide. Even so, we in Colbert County sometimes swear that it is narrower to us than it is the Lauderdale folks, judging by the frequency of traffic each way. Fact is that we have changed our site of worship assembly and find the longer drive becoming burdensome. It’s not too bad now, but in a few years nobody from Florence will want to drive to Tuscumbia to fetch us if/when we are unable to drive.

We love our 50’s house! We would like to take it with us if that were feasible. Being possibly the most un-trendy folks on the planet, we’ve make it just like us ~ dated, safe, weathered, cozy and comfortable. We’ve torn out, added on, spiffed up and planted through the years. Got it just about where we wanted it ~ and we're going to leave it. Are we crazy? (That word again!)

Now we’re sprucing to sell. Got an outside painter, an inside painter and a shrub-trimmer going at the same time today. We’ve laughed thinking that it’s gonna be in such good shape we’ll really hate to turn it over someone else.  But we’ll force ourselves for the right price……

If you know me at all, you know how I hate to shop. So choosing another house looms nightmarishly before me. It’s going to be an adventure. But I often say that life is change ~ forever changing. And I guess we’re not too old to be part of the flow!