Watching TV news this morning, one major news item was a lesson on how to protect yourself to survive mass shootings! Really??? Our church had clinics on protection of the same! Our children have lock in place drills and how to hold their hands over their crouched bodies!

My 85 year old mind and body both rebel in unbelief of what is happening, and rational thinking and dialogue doesn’t seem to work, so I am almost afraid to voice any opposition to a movement of “my rights” over the fear, distrust, suspicions and angst that mass shootings have brought to the forefront of this nations image.

Do you know that the leading cause of death in children and teens in this country is Firearms? Not cancer, not car accidents, your child is more likely to die by a gun than any other cause.

This blog comes from a woman whose husband had a cabinet full of hunting guns….none of which could shoot over 2 bullets before reloading. Assault weapons and magazines of many more bullets are weapons of war, not recreational and not for personal protection that one has a right to provide.

I keep hearing that this is a mental health issue. There are mentally ill people in every country in the world, and they don’t have the problem of mass shootings that we do. I saw a local church were doing what Isaiah the prophet foretold about the coming of the Prince of Peace to this world, that we would beat our weapons into plowshares. Let’s begin that mindset today. May it be so.

I usually don’t have any trouble expressing myself in writings, but somehow that just doesn’t seem to be possibly. For a week and a bit, something seems to be missing, something that was an extension of my psyche seemed not to be there. That conscious or unconscious influence of knowing someone had my back, someone championing my endeavors, was not here.

My sister Ruth went to heaven the last of September, and with distance, and life’s obstacles, I think I have found it easier to just think”she is in Florida, that’s all it is! “ But my heart knows. My sister, my walking companion, my friend , walks in splendor now. My mind swirls with memories of our childhood, our grownup respect for each other and our unwavering love has made me a better person…..perhaps that person Ruth always thought I was!!!

My sister Ruth went to heaven yesterday, and I didn’t know exactly what to do! What do other people do when they lose their best friend, their confidant, their support for all that has gone on in my life from childhood?

What do other folks do when dis-belief becomes real, when pain replaces hope, when a part of you is silenced forever? What do they do when memories just bring tears?

What do they do to honor a life lived in service to others as a nurse, as a wife, a mother and grandmother, a daughter, a sister, and friend?

I hold on to the hope that joy will replace pain, memories will dry tears, and the sheer magnitude of her being will remind me every day of the gift of my sister Ruth.

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I am a fan of editorials for it keeps me informed of the thinking of people I either agree with or oppose. Either way, I think I am a more well rounded thinker than I have ever been as one of those “aging” that todays editorial talked about. Irvin Peckham, a retired professor caught my eye and my heart in todays DNR paper.

I will leave out the political positions he voiced, because his appeal to me was what he said about aging that made me immediately tell my visiting daughters that they should read it.

For those who don’t get a paper, and I don’t blame you, I am absolutely quoting his last paragraph and hope it speaks to you as it does to me.

“Professor Peckham…..I think older people should be models for their children and grandchildren on how to age well—and of course at the end, how to die. I take this responsibility seriously, I want my grandchildren to see how at seventy-nine, I can still live a full life and contribute to the well being of those around me.”

For you young people, look around at the people in your life, and in your community, and lastly in your country. Whose life do you mimic, whose life gives you a roadmap to follow? I’ll safely guess that person has silver hair, a benevolent spirit, and an undying enthusiasm for life itself.

Watching the weather report this morning with night temperatures in the 40 ‘s later this week, this was my first reaction….too soon, too soon.

Growing up, my Mother was a better weather forecaster than all the predictions from the radio weathermen, and she always said that anytime after September 15, we could have a frost. The weather this year has been so uncommon that I was thinking summer might linger a bit longer.

Autumn, though, is my favorite season. With my farmer husband who reveled in days of harvest of the crops planted in the spring, hunting , and grabbing an apple off the trees as he headed to the barn each morning. I caught his enthusiasm, and when I see big green harvest wagons meander down the roads, my heart beats in remembrance.

There is a lot of things I find happening too soon in my aging life style. Too soon children are reaching retirement, too soon grandchildren are parents themselves, too soon, except the fact I am here to enjoy their every adventure.

There is a poem by a rather obscure poet, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and part of it says, “Outside the leaves are falling as they died. Outside the leaves were falling and they cried Too soon, Too soon!”

This morning I received an instagram picture of a great-grandchild with a backpack and other school looking things slung over her back. She looked anything but eager and joyful to say the least.

It reminded me of another day and another child who must have felt exactly what my Liiile GGrandchild was feeling. Mary Ellen started her teaching in a county known for it’s honesty of expression and behavior. When Mary Ellen told a little boy he couldn’t go home at lunch, as he had gathered all his belongings and stood expectingly to exit the door, he soon told her what he thought of the whole situation.

When she said, “Johnny, we can’t go home til about three!” He looked at her with unbelief and said, “Well who the H… signed me up for this????”

Sitting in my easy chair at a little after six on a Sunday morning, I am a bit amused at how much my life has changed and how my body and mind rail against such nonsense,

Why in the world do I need to be awake, with coffee and bagel in hand at this time in the morning? The simple answer is that this has been my schedule for more years than I can count. First of all, as a teenager, Mom gently woke me up and sent me off to milk the family cow before getting ready for school. Next came babies’s and 5 o’clock feedings and Bill going to the barn to begin his day.

And so it goes, for no matter what reason tells me to stay in that bed a bit more, my mind switches to a different mode. Get up, make my bed, take my morning meds, start the coffee, and smile because there is no cow to milk.

Just reading my Instagram posting about our church’s youth mission trip, and there was not a word about how hot it must be in North Carolina. Just words about bagging vegetables in a food pantry, learning about a church whose worship every Sunday is preceded by a few hours of gardening to provide fresh food for the needy, or a church that’s mission is to minister to the homeless, especially the LGBTQ community who have few sources of inclusiveness.

I don’t know about you, but I would treasure an adventure for my teenager that exposed him/her to programs that follow what we hear every sabbath, as we sit cool and comfortable in our air conditioned, cushioned, isolated pew in churches all over the country…Jesus reminding us about the Least of These!!

My recall, as I look back over my life, is I had that exposure. And reading about their experiences, I wonder why I’m not there!!

After a week with five daughters and a granddaughter in New York City and Long Island, I find it almost impossible to put into words any thing that comes close to describing what is swirling around in my head and heart.

From Van Gogh at the Metropolitan, to Hadestown on Broadway, sandy beaches, long walks, soft beds, food un-comparable, my children allowed their octogenarian mother to be their companion and not their caretaker. Role reversals take a bit of getting used to, but I felt a steadying hand or arm more comforting than demeaning.

Of all the glimmer and shimmer of the city, the peace and tranquility of the Hamptons, the thing that filled my heart with joy, was seeing my family be family in every good thing that word should be. Six mature, bold, opinionated, successful women, not withholding opinions, loved and listened to each other’s joys as well as concerns with support and respect. And Mama kept her mouth shut!!! Well, most of the time!

So, a magical week for my girls,of reminiscing, of career plans, of retirement plans, of children and grandchildren, and as for me, I am holding on to that moonbeam they gave me, and I will never let it go.

That is a puzzling statement I just made, even for me! But thinking about why I said that, I think that may be a very good phrase to describe my life at this juncture of life,

This is written “tongue in cheek“ with humor and a bit of satire, so read it with that in mind. Rising up from a night of restful tossing and trips to the bathroom, I knock my “morning “ pill holder to the floor and crawl around the floor retrieving 3 pink, 1 blue and one kinda beige that I have no idea what it is for. I swallow them before I lose them again, shuffle to the bathroom, which has become the most familiar room in my house. Looking in the mirror, I am again shocked to see an old woman who looks a bit familiar, but not someone I would want for a friend.

Breakfast is interesting, and tasty, if I remember to put on my glasses so I can see that what I am spreading on my bagel is strawberry jam and not Texas Pete hot sauce! Getting dressed is somewhat of a challenge if I wear that dumb top with tiny little buttons and I absolutely know the button holes are even tinier.

My daughters gave me a year’s membership at the wellness center that has been everything I need in physical wellness. I take a gentle yoga class that does a lot for my agility, even though my “down dog “ pose looks more like a “dead dog.” Imagine my chagrin the other day when the woman on the mat next to me tapped me on the shoulder to wake me from “child” pose!

At my hair dresser’s suggestion, I started taking collagen for hair an skin care. I really take it for joint health, and the only thing I have seen as a result of all this is the hairs on my chin look really healthy,

So nothing at the age of 85 has changed….. at least the important things. I can still love and enjoy my family and friends and pray that they find themselves, at my age ,filled with a gratitude for life itself. May that continue also for me. Thanks be to God.