Category: reflections

As more of my cognition returns to me in waves, I am able to think back on things from long ago more easily. Mostly memories of memorable things, and it’s almost as if my brain suppresses the painful ones to protect me. I realize that’s a super odd statement, but it’s a truthful one. My brain is weird, and with all it’s been through it does all sorts of weird stuff.

Anyway, today I was thinking back on a Spanish class I took when I finishing my Bachelors. There have been a handful of men that I have seen up close where I was dumbstruck by what they looked like, and frankly how pretty they were. This professor was no exception. But once I got over his good looks I remember appreciating how interesting he was. We did the most interesting things in his class as well. He challenged us on a regular basis and I learned quite a bit of Spanish that stored itself in this brain of mine. We learned about and discussed Spanish culture as much as we did pronouns, and one day he assigned each student a small group and a country where we had to research the healthcare for that country. He was well traveled and spoke multiple languages, and I remember being dumbfounded again, fresh from two brain bleeds, as he spoke of countries that cared enough about their citizens to offer them healthcare from birth. What a concept! I was living in a town where when I became dizzy and forgot how to ride my bike and went to the ER they didn’t know what hydrocephalus was.

In the United States at the present time we are asking ourselves and each other some hard questions. Are we equal? Does every person have value from the time they are in the womb until they pass away?- Not just the most wealthy, or celebrities in Hollywood in their mansions that complain about quarantining. Why is it okay to open public schools and not private? Are we really one nation under God when we do nothing to help each other-let alone the most vulnerable among us-and throw up our hands and wail when we are asked to wear a mask so the health system isn’t completely decimated and so that people that we and others love don’t die? Why is our military budget astronomical and our people are starving, homeless, and do not have the means to care for themselves as the economy gets worse by the day? Is the stock market indicative of a fabulous economy when people can’t keep their lights on? Where are our priorities?

I long for the United States that lives in my heart. A kind and prosperous place of equal opportunity where people have value at all stages of their lives. Perhaps this will come to fruition in my lifetime. I can pray that it does. ❤️

I go to various therapies at the local Catholic hospital for multiple medical issues. Today was an OT and PT day, and I had a substitute physical therapist. As a general rule, I respond to new people slowly and then don’t shut up. 🤷🏼‍♀️ But this lady I took to immediately. I was in an immense amount of pain today, but went to the hospital anyway because movement has always helped me; even now. It doesn’t make the pain go away completely, but it distracts me from it and does help a little bit. Anyway, this therapist was cautious because I admitted I was at around a 9.5 pain wise, but she still pushed and encouraged which I loved. Weird, right? Anyway, we were doing these step ups on a platform of sorts they have in the PT gym, and I asked her if she had ever noticed the cross on the roof top out the window if you look up. She said that she hadn’t and wondered if they were at all the corners of the hospital. I told her probably. Nuns like crosses. She chuckled heartily and said true. I also pointed at a chip underneath one of the windows. That a piece of the frame around the edge had fallen away years ago. Then looked at her with all seriousness and with a heart full of sincerity and said you know, hospitals don’t have to be fancy. It’s who works at them and how they treat every person that walks inside that matters. She nodded and smiled and said very true.

The world is a weird place. People hate each other for the most stupid of reasons when every last one of us were formed from the same set of hands. People care about things that are so shallow on this side of Heaven that will mean nothing when God calls us home. It won’t matter what car we drove or what kind of purse we carried. It will matter if we were kind. If we loved fiercely. If we were a helper to those that needed it. And most importantly if we were in genuine communion with Him.

On Monday I went to daily Mass at a new place where I live because the one at that time at my parish wasn’t able to continue.

It was a spur of the moment thing to get a Lyft ride there. I didn’t do any planning, or check for handicapped accessibility, but honestly I had such a hunger to receive The Eucharist that I just went. It was a beautiful Mass. SO traditional and I got there early, so I got to hobble around and look at the windows and say the Rosary beforehand with everyone. I just so happened to put mine in my purse before I left, but I think that was Mary giving me a little nudge. ❤️ Afterwards i had to do a tremendous amount of walking because this basilica is in a massive city and they lock certain areas and I didn’t know my way around, but I survived and made it home. Next time I’ll pay better attention to what the nuns do. 🤦🏼‍♀️ They just walked right out the front. 😂

Despite the physical impediments that I now have, Monday I found a corner of a massive city and spent some time with Jesus. People read this blog from all over the world. I think that no matter where any of us are located, He just wants us to find Him, and spend a little bit of time with Him.

The last seven months have taught me so much. They have taught me to always speak up for myself. They have taught me about the fragility of humans. They have taught me that life is short and fleeting, and when you’re given a second chance at it you should hang on tight, and make the most of your second chance; no matter what you look like when you walk or how much pain you’re in when you do it.

I find myself peaceful most days in these and many other realizations as the world goes bonkers out there. Life is a precious gift, and I’m so thankful for mine. Do I get frustrated? Worry about what my purpose is? Wonder what my vocation is at the age of 35? Certainly. But then I get a ride to Mass by a Knights of Columbus member who hadn’t been to church in a long while, stayed for the service, and loved the priest as much as I do. Or see my plants that were once just seeds grow bit by bit, share my produce box with my neighbors, take my dog for four ten minute walks a day in the sunshine, and make people smile with my social media posts about my daily activities and realize that perhaps I’m in the process of figuring it out. Thanks be to God for these blessings. May we all find rest in His arms that are welcoming and vast beyond comprehension. ❤️ Everything will work itself out according to His will and not ours eventually.

All my life I have worked my tail off to make my physical shortcomings not apparent to the rest of the world. I have always hobbled, I have a huge head, and have been in a tremendous amount of pain, but until this year nobody has been aware of the extent of it. Earlier this year my pain became very different than it’s ever been, but to know that others care makes it more bearable. It’s pretty weird having to be open with medical professionals on a regular basis about your pain levels and to rest throughout the day because you’ve stood too much. All that being said, I am thankful to be alive and to have care in the first place. Phenomenal care at that! Most of all I am thankful that in an odd way this physical pain I am in has brought me closer to God than ever before. Thanks be to Him for that!

I have gone without medical care that I desperately needed because of lack of insurance.

I have a heart that beats fasts when I stand in one spot.

I am hydrocephalic.

I have a clotting disorder.

I have rehabbed myself after two brain bleeds.

I have been misdiagnosed by a physician, and the diagnosis changed my adult life.

I have experienced acute trauma and cruelty this year.

I have survived.

I am not unique.

I am a child of a God that has seen fit to save my life through hearing the cries of those that both know and do not know me as they prayed, the real presence in the Eucharist, and The Anointing of the Sick.

I am profoundly blessed.

These are intense statements, and they are truthful ones. They are me.

Stay tuned for further posts as I continue to discern the direction of this blog. I thought a start to the right direction would be some raw honestly from its operator.

Blessings,

Lisa

I often think of what my Daddy would think when things have happened in the world since his death almost 18 years ago. He died young, and when I was almost 18 years old. Daddy was silly, smart, a gentleman, opinionated, hot headed, etc and so forth. He could make you feel like the most important person in the room, and loved my sister and I fiercely. He also loved Jesus and America. My life would have most likely been much different had he lived, but he needed his angel wings and not to be in pain. I stopped wishing to change the will of God long ago where that’s concerned. When I picture him in Heaven, I picture his Hawaiian shirts and him wandering around talking to people. When my grandmother passed away four years ago this January, I haven’t allowed myself to imagine their reunion after so many years apart until this moment, but I know it was one for the Heavenly history books. When I thought I wouldn’t make it on multiple occasions over the last 5ish months, I pictured my reunion with them too. A friend said to me not long ago when I told her the full scope of what has transpired with me medically that It is a miracle I’m alive, and that my work here is just not finished yet. My reunion with my relatives in Heaven by blood and not will wait it seems. When I went to Mass today after a full morning of therapies I thought of what my friend said. I thought of the world in which we live. I thought of the country of my birth. I thought of those I love. I thought of mistakes I have made. I thought of pain and my new normal. I thought of babies born and to be born to my friends and babies lost. I thought of friends I have known through the years. I thought of Mary, Jesus’ mom, since today is a day for her. I thought of killing, the poor, the oppressed, the destitute, violence. I realized sitting there on the front row of my parish home that the person on the crucifix I was staring up at above the tabernacle is the ultimate judge, listener, and protector and to cast it all on him. He wants to hold us up. To return to Him and walk toward Glory to feast at a Heavenly banquet. I think Daddy would cast his cares on Jesus. I think he would sit and ask Him questions in a pew if he weren’t up in Heaven to ask Him face to face. Gods peace and love to you all, blog readers.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in thy sight oh Lord my strength and my redeemer. Amen

That came to the forefront of my brain as I wheeled over to my makeshift desk to write this. Perhaps it’s where I get the prayer that I have prayed for years on and off:

God, please help my words, thoughts, and actions to be more like you than myself. Do with me as you will.

Anyway, things are crazy in my country right now. This morning when I woke up I had the idea for this blog post, and amazingly haven’t forgotten it. Even after fully participating at Mass on a rough pain day. To whom do I bow? People, because we are imperfect human beings, have a way of glorifying and bowing at everything but God. I’ve been guilty of that, as we all have the world over. But I can’t help but wonder if we worshipped God with the same vigor, and obeyed his commandments the way we glorify a celebrity or the newest shoe or iPhone how very different the world would be. Vastly different I would imagine.

On this Pentecost Sunday I pray with thanksgiving for the birth of the Church and with hopefulness in my soul for a new Pentecost. That a revival spread through this country, and we always remember who sits on the throne. Most especially that we all may be one. ❤️

In 2008, life got especially real for me, and I ended up in the Chicago area for a time before my first of two brain bleeds. It was there that I met my friend Claude. The circumstances aren’t especially important, but Claude was a dear friend for two weeks before I ended up at Mercy hospital with a blood clot. (Also pre brain bleed #1.)Claude was a drug addict who’d been in and out of jail many times for convictions related to his disease. He, along with about 8 I guess other fellas, took me under their wing and showed me the ropes of Chicago. Claude and I watched Family Guy regularly, and these men shared food with me that they didn’t want during the week when a woman cooked that didn’t seem to care what she fed us. Particularly me who ate really strangely. 💁🏼‍♀️ I have never had such unseasoned food in the entirety of my life. Or as many veggie trays….They pulled out my chair and woke me for meals, and we shared lots of books. Anyway, back to Claude….I have thought of him often through the years. But today he’s been on my mind. I wonder if he’s alive. I wonder if he’s spent more time inside. I wonder if he kicked heroin to the curb forever. I’ll never know the answers to these statements. I hope God has blessed each of those gentleman in their lives for being kind to 2008 Lisa as she got her first taste of the real world, and because they’re His and they wanted to change.

Looking back on 2008, it seems like a different world. And it was compared to this one. I look forward to the day, whether it be in this life or the next, when Gods children love each other and recognize that we are equal. We could all stand to be more like Claude in the United States and around the world.

It seems like a lifetime ago now, but I once knew a soldier who wore a bracelet with his friends name engraved on it that was killed during one of his tours overseas. I’ve been lost in thought today over this holiday, that fallen soldier, and all of the others that this country has lost through the years.

Many folks don’t know this, but my BA is in Political Science with a concentration in American Government. Until recently, I have always had a fascination with politics. But the very fabric of this country, I have learned, goes FAR beyond the halls of government. It’s in its citizens, and those who wish that were. The very bravest of whom are in the military. I have a dear friend whose husband is in the service. She posted something on social media that was so eloquent, and thus so very her. 🙂To sum it up, it is that we all should have a grateful Memorial Day. I am grateful for the sacrifices of those that wear the uniform. May all of us make every day a Memorial Day for the sacrifices of those individuals and their families. ❤️