Tag: Guest Bloggers

Gift, By Lorie Sheffer

I woke up this morning with my windows open and my air conditioning turned off. After a weeklong heat wave, today is cooler and the humidity is low. I was able to walk out to my deck, newspaper in one hand and coffee in the other, and not have my glasses fog up when I slid open the door.  The birds sounded especially happy about the break in the heat and humidity. The squirrels were chasing one another through the tops of the giant silver maples, happily playing in my son’s long abandoned tree fort.

The weather forecast for tomorrow is the same, but the tone of the day will be quite different. There are some things in life for which we can find no deeper meaning, no upside, and no lesson. Some things defy explanation. There are no words that comfort, no gesture that takes away the pain. There are things that happen in life that we never really get over, things that we don’t recover from so much as just learn to move forward from.  One of those things is the death of a child. No matter that this was inevitable, something that was determined at the very moment of conception. Tomorrow is the day we lay to rest one of our family; on what would have been her third birthday. It seems that all of the other stresses in life, the traffic jams, the long line at the grocery store, high prices at the gas pump… none of them seem to matter.

Today I will enjoy the sunshine, the cooler temperatures, and the birds singing. I will think back to vacations as a kid, elementary school, those awkward teenaged years. I will remember the long nights sitting up with my own baby daughter, her first day of school.  I will think of sewing ribbons on her ballet shoes and the hours spent driving to the dance studio, the frantic search for prom dresses and leaving her for her first year away at college. I will think of being with her when my grandson was born.  All of those things seemed like such ordinary rites of passage, and yet some mothers never have those experiences with their little girls.

As I enjoy the cool breeze blowing back the curtains, I understand that not everything in life can be explained. Sometimes we just have to accept that life can be terribly cruel and unfair. We need to look at those mundane, everyday things like shopping for school clothes and music lessons and making snacks and realize that they aren’t chores, but gifts. Being able to nag our kids about cleaning their rooms or doing their homework is a blessing. Having memories of those things after our children are grown adults is something we need to cherish. Not all parents are so fortunate.

Mental Vacation, By Lorie Sheffer

Memorial Day Weekend. The official start of summer. Most people think of outdoor activities, vacations and summer foods. One of my favorite foods to serve with the usual summer fare is those big dill pickles that you can fish out of a barrel. I like them cold, crunchy and garlicky. The smell of the dill and the snap of the pickle as you bite into it, and the juicy, sour taste makes my mouth water just thinking about it.

If thinking about a cold sour pickle can make my mouth water, then what other physical reactions can be caused by thoughts? Can thinking about stressful things cause a physical reaction? Of course! Chronic stress can cause digestive issues, high blood pressure and headaches, and those examples are just part of a long list.

On the flip side, thinking about positive, peaceful things can have a soothing affect. There’s a very real, biological reaction that Buddhist Monks have when they practice mindful meditation. Recent developments in functional MRI technologies and advances in neuroscience have proven that there really IS such a thing as mind over matter. Thoughts alone can rewire the brain to some degree. Yoga classes, prayer, meditation or just taking time to think about something positive can have health benefits.

The next time you are thinking about something that is stressful or something that makes you angry, pay attention to how it makes you feel physically. Is your heart pounding? Are your muscles tense? Do you have butterflies in your stomach?  Now, also pay attention to how you physically feel when you’re in a good mood. Relaxed? Energetic? Ready to take on the world? Why not see if you can teach yourself to swap out some of that negative thinking for something more enjoyable? Think of a favorite place, maybe. For me, it’s a secluded spot on Assateague Island, surrounded by wild ponies, the sound of the ocean over the dunes. It’s very hard to feel stressed when I’m there; even it’s only in my mind.

Commencement, By Lorie Sheffer

Within a span of a few days, both of my “kids” received diplomas. They each walked a very different path to get to that end.

My daughter earned a Bachelor of Arts in Letters, Arts and Sciences from Penn State, York Campus. The look on her 11-year-old son’s face was priceless as he watched his mother finally walk across that stage to receive her diploma. They had done their homework together at the kitchen table, and he had seen her still sitting there finishing papers she had stayed up all night to complete, only to have to shower and dress for work that same day.

We had a celebratory dinner that evening, during which she commented about the 14 years it had taken her to achieve her goal. She commented on what her little brother had achieved during that same time. He had finished high school, graduated from college with two honors degrees, and obtained a master’s degree in bioethics while completing medical school. His graduation was set for three days later. I had seen the smile on my son’s face during her graduation ceremony, and watched as he listened closely to the graduates who stepped up to the open mike to say a few words. Many of them thanked their families for supporting them through the years, especially their small children who saw Mommy or Daddy working full time while finishing college a few credits at a time. One graduate was in tears as she said she was so honored to be the first member of her family to earn a college degree.

My son said to his sister, “Not everyone has the luxury of going to college full time. Sometimes life happens, and you have children to care for and bills to pay. You did this while working full time and raising an amazing son.” He was clearly in awe of his sister and what she had accomplished.

It’s so easy to be intimidated by the accomplishments of others. It’s tempting to just not even try, thinking it’s too late or that it will take too much time. What struck me was the admiration and respect that my son had for the tenacity of the graduates he had heard that night. He, who had accomplished so much, was blown away by their spirit and determination.

More than the diplomas they received, I find that, as their mother, I am most proud of her will to reach her goal no matter the time and sacrifice it would take, and that his long list of accomplishments never eclipsed his true appreciation for the accomplishments of others. Children learn more, I feel, by example than they do by words alone. That being said, these past few days may have been one of the best learning experiences of my grandson’s life; not only in persistence and appreciation, but in humility.

Erase The Signs Of Aging, By Lorie Sheffer

Last week an elderly relative of mine confided in a small group of friends that her son doesn’t seem to understand that she can no longer do things she could do even ten years ago. A mutual friend of ours chimed in with what I realized is a quite reasonable explanation. “Logically he knows that you’re 90, but in his mind he sees you as about 45. I couldn’t understand why my mom couldn’t just go out and dig her own garden anymore. I saw her as middle aged, right up until she very visibly was suffering from dementia at age 80.”

I came home and got out some old photo albums. My great grandmother wore a flowered print dress, thick stockings, orthopedic shoes and a bonnet and apron. In contrast, the woman who had made the complaint about her son had been wearing a lovely pair of tailored slacks with a tailored shirt and a structured jacket. She carried a buttery soft leather bag and wore beautiful ballet flats.  Next I looked at photos from my parent’s wedding. Both of my grandmothers looked lovely. As a side note, neither ever learned to drive a car. The year was 1951, and they were true to the amazing style of that time. But they looked their age. I compared it to photos from my son’s wedding, and noted the difference between my grandmothers and us moms in the newer photo. My grandmas were wearing sensible shoes, while I was wearing stiletto evening sandals. In the newer photos the mother of the bride is out on the dance floor showing the kids a thing or two. I was also struck by the comparison between my mother and grandmother. Photos of my grandmother show an exceptionally pretty woman who was chubby and rosy cheeked; the quintessential Grandma. I vividly remember the first time we saw her wearing slacks instead of her usual dress. It was in the early 1970s and she decided she was going to jump on the new pantsuit trend. That in contrast to my mother, who at 77 years old had this past winter took to tucking her jeans into her knee high leather boots.

While I would never suggest that all those 60+-year-old fashionistas should revert to the days of housedresses and sensible shoes, I can see where there is some confusion.  Our style really does reflect who we are as a person, at least to some degree. When we see 65-year-old Helen Mirren looking spectacular in a red bikini, we see her as being not only confident, but also almost ridiculously physically fit. I don’t think that we would be concerned that she needs help with carrying her laundry upstairs. While all of the advances in skin care and cosmetics, and yes, Botox and Restylane, have erased the signs of age, the fact is they have not literally erased the years. Yes, we have medical advances that have enabled us to live longer and healthier lives, and that is great. But we have also blurred the line of perception so that when a 90 year old woman who looks decades younger than her chronological age asks for help, the response may not be as fast as she had hoped.

Zombie Invasion, By Lorie Sheffer

My grandson, in discussing the serious subject of who he would want to have on his team in the event of a Zombie invasion, laughed when my daughter suggested to him, “I’d want your LoLo on my team.”

Without missing a beat he shot back, “Momma, LoLo can’t run.”

Why should it bother me that an 11 year old would automatically assume I couldn’t run? This is the child with whom I spent nearly every day of his life from the day he was born until just last year, when his mother’s career change allowed her to get him off of the bus every afternoon. I was under the impression that he thought I was a super hero. I’m the one who hard boiled and packaged an egg for him that just few weeks ago beat out 70 others in some weird egg boxing match at his school. I have spent many summer days doing cannonballs into the pool with him. I was stunned that I would not be someone he would automatically want on his team should Zombies ever invade.

Today I went to my daughter’s house to help her prepare for a yard sale, and just in time to meet Carter as he got home from school. I challenged him to a race. I told him that I wanted to run across the front yards. He actually laughed at my crazy idea and me. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve actually moved faster than a brisk walk in at least 15 years.

We stood side by side at the edge of the neighbor’s driveway. My daughter called the race, holding her hands out so that whichever of us slapped her hand first would be declared the winner. I gritted my teeth, dug in my feet and flew off the start, determined not to let this boy win. Arms pumping, I pushed off with every step, digging in and using my feet to propel the rest of me forward. My eyes squinted shut and I reached out toward my daughter’s hand, smacking it square in the palm. I then ran into my car, which was parked in the driveway. I turned around, panting and puffing, to see my grandson standing there with a look of disbelief on his face. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. I stopped on the way home for some lavender scented Epsom salts and a fresh bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. My breathing has since returned to normal.

Who do you want on your team of Zombie fighters now? Huh? Because what self respecting middle aged grandmother isn’t going to want to beat an 11 year old in a front yard footrace?