Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Beautiful and Terrible

I was visiting my medical oncologist for a follow-up appointment. I’ve been apparently cancer free for about five years now, after bouts with kidney and breast cancer. Fortunately both were detected quite early on.

While waiting in the exam room, I looked up to notice a white board with scribbled writing on it. The first scribble, on the upper left, was: “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” The second scribble, in the lower right corner, said “Fear ye not, for I am with ye. Yea, I am with ye always.” Then in the upper right corner was a picture from a movie, I think, but the caption was, “Hasta la vista, melanoma — the Terminator.”

These little sayings struck me profoundly. ”Beautiful and terrible,” for sure. The world is full of so much suffering, like cancer, war, violence and hatred, to name a few, but with so much beauty as well: nature, human love, forgiveness, mercy, art, and many other things. But the saying ends bravely with the words, “Don’t be afraid.” Upon further research, I learned that the quote is by Frederick Buechner, a Presbyterian minister who had a painful childhood, his family moving about almost every year, and his father committing suicide when he was fourteen. Despite those events, he went on to become a prolific writer and a preacher.

The next saying echoes the first, although its original was written long before the first saying. Again, “Fear ye not.” As far as I can tell, this is partly from Isaiah 41:10 and from Matthew 28:20, or perhaps three or four other places in the New Testament where Jesus tells his disciples to not be afraid. I think we humans need constant reminders not to be afraid.

So, the doctor arrived and after some discussion, I was told I could finish my five years of medication in June. Also, after the exam, he said I was healing well. So it was all good news. When he went out the door, I got emotional, I suppose from relief that all was well. As I went to the car and in the car, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed. ”I shouldn’t even be alive, and here I am!”

All praise to God, who has allowed me to continue living for His purposes, which I don’t always know or understand.


Caring for Our Elderly

In the United States, how do we care for our elderly parents, or other elderly people? Here are some ways I have witnessed or read about. What do you think are the best ways, most practical, most workable, or best for the elderly?

A relative of my husband’s, Mary, lived in Washington state. She and her husband built, or had built for them, an addition to their house. Mary’s widowed dad lived in this beautiful addition. It had its own bathroom, fireplace, and tiny living room, and the whole addition was directly attached to the main house. In the early days of his living there, he went for many walks in the neighborhood, and lived there to the age of 102. I don’t know if the addition had a kitchen, and they probably shared meals.

Growing up, my dad’s mother first lived in our home, in a large room attached to the kitchen. Later, she moved to an apartment about a mile from our house. I would visit her a lot after school and she would be at our home for many occasions. Then later again, when I was in my twenties, she moved to an apartment only three blocks from where my parents lived, and only one block from the apartment that I had moved to when I was older. So both my parents, siblings, and myself could visit her often.

The Amish, a religious sect, do not have any separate “retirement communities” for the elderly. Rather, younger families will build an attached or detached addition to their own home, called a “dawdi haus” (there are various spellings for this). See https://www.amish365.com/retirement-homes-for-the-amish-what-is-a-dawdy-haus .

An in-law had her fairly independent elderly parents living in a retirement community, where each couple or single person had a cottage. Then the husband had a bad fall and a slow-growing cancer was discovered. The family had both him and his wife moved to a facility with assisted living, and with another unit for memory care. They were visited often by family, and some family parties were held in one of the facility’s “party rooms”. The husband’s problems progressed, and perhaps a year or two after that move, the husband passed away. Again, the siblings searched for a good facility for their mother. One sibling (six total) wanted the mother in her own home, which was small, with one bathroom, and already had four people in it (no free bedroom), but the other siblings nixed that. At least two of the other siblings were “professionals”, one a doctor. None of the other five siblings, besides the first mentioned, thought that having the mother in their home would be workable. After much research, a small facility was found which highly encourages family to visit. There are only twelve residents. I have visited this place and it’s more like a group home than a “facility,” with a very home-like atmosphere. It is close to most of the siblings and they take turns visiting, most days of the week. They have had, since the move after dad’s fall, an online sharable chart in which they sign up for visits, so as to minimize alone time for their parents.

My own mom, in her later years, lived one or two miles from my sister and my older brother. Her home was an apartment in a retirement community. Later, she bought a two-bedroom mobile home in another community for those over 55. This, too, was within two miles of two of my siblings. It was plenty of room for her, and my two siblings could visit her often, take her to doctor appointments, and check on her medications. My younger brother and I visited less often, as we were about three hours driving distance away. I did try to call my mom at least once a week.

There is a couple I know who were friends of my father’s. The wife developed a chronic illness and had to be in a nursing home. They have no children. Recently, the husband had a bad fall. He will be moving into the nursing home and selling their house. They will live there in the nursing home together. I don’t know what kind of family support they have, or close friends who can visit. They don’t have children, and live in a state hundreds of miles from me. I hope it is a nursing home that has lots of visitors.

My husband’s mom lived in two or three apartments in different retirement communities in the eastern U.S., for many years. Eventually, she moved close to my husband’s younger brother on the west coast, to a retirement community apartment. After a while, my brother-in-law and his wife bought a new home a few doors down from their previous home, and had mom move into their previous home. So, they could walk over there any time, and would accompany her to their house when she visited. She had to be hospitalized at one point, and it was determined that in the aftermath, they could not care for her on their own. After one horrible place, my husband’s brother-in-law found a very nice facility only a mile or two from their house. She ended up passing away there a few months later, thankfully with her younger son present. My husband and I had been with her earlier in the day.

In California, we lived near to an elderly man whose wife eventually divorced him. He doesn’t have the closest relations with her or his children or grandchildren. He eventually had to sell his home to pay for divorce-related costs, besides not being able to keep things up on his own. He now lives in an elderly home in south San Francisco bay. He likes me to call him and does not get many visitors.

A couple who have been friends of ours for years moved from California to Pennsylvania, in large part to help the husband’s relatives. First of all, before moving, they had bought the house of one of his sisters, as she was no longer able to pay for it (or perhaps even just pay the taxes) or keep it up. This sister died after they moved. The Covid pandemic was still happening. But, they did what they could to help the husband’s other relatives and in-laws. Eventually they were able to visit more, and two of the relatives were getting quite ill (cancer, etc.) and were in hospice care. The husband visited often, and even (I believe) brought them closer to God by his encouragement. So both of these people (one of his sisters and her husband) died in peace this past year. There is a third relative who is harder to get through to, but the husband faithfully visits him and gives him care. Let us pray that this relative will be open to God’s love.

[Edit: January 25, 2024] Just a few days ago, I learned of another case. A lovely retired widow, with whom I would chat with at church on weekdays, informed me that she’d be moving today. I was a bit surprised, but her story made a lot of sense. She’d been living alone since her husband’s death. One of her children and his wife had recently moved from a community near the church and had bought two homes next to each other in an area perhaps 10 miles away. They invited the mother to move in next door to them, and so she is today. She’ll be going to a different church, but might visit ours occasionally.

How will YOU care for your parents when they are less able to care for themselves? What can we do for those who gave us the gift of life? Can we show our gratitude by not letting them get isolated? If you had difficult relations with your parents, pray to forgive them and to have some honest conversations.

Autumn Waning

Gone are the bright leaves of the fall,
And barren branches stand so tall,
The wind cuts through my meager clothes;
A bit of chill upon my nose.

The sky so dreary, and people weary,
But pink-tinged clouds at sunset shout
Of beauty gracing —
Silver-lined clouds lacing.

And still the air is not so cold.
But wintry temper’tures so bold
Will soon bring flurries and people hurrying
To still the chill within their souls.

Five Vignettes

These were written as an assignment for a poetry class. Assignment: Write a few short poems in the same “form.” You can pick an object, and write about what the object thinks of itself. (Regarding form, I’m not sure what “form” these are, or even if they’re in the same “form.”) The second vignette is not really about an object.

THE CLOCK
I am the clock
That sits and ticks
And gives you fits
When buzzing, ringing,
The new day bringing.

THE POETRY TEACHER
He said to write a poem.
I thought I’d like to show ‘im.
It’s just my pride
That makes me want to hide.

THE CAT
As I sit on the sill
It’s really a thrill
To watch the birds —
Or is it absurd?

THE CHAIR
Four legs I have, and on a plateau
Sit some of the people whom I know —
Or don’t —
But perhaps it’s kind
To let a person sit a while.

THE TREE
I stand so still
Except in wind;
The birds make me their home.
And rabbits dwell
‘Neath branches low
My arms protect them well.


A Gentle Rain

A gentle rain was the touch of God —
Healing — bringing healing.

My weary soul, so dry and parched,
Received the living water.

I cannot comprehend Your love, O Lord —
For me, for others.

How can a sound touch my heart so deeply,
Washing cares away?

And to the earth it brings the promise,
That evil will be cleansed by Your love.

And by Your suffering so deeply,
You washed my sins away.

It’s Only a Shack

Rain on the roof,
Clothes on my back;
It’s dry inside,
Though it’s only a shack.

Wind’s blowin’ hard,
But I do not fear —
Six layers of clothes
Do bring me good cheer.

The demons attack —
They make my thoughts jumble.
But through prayer and fasting,
The enemy crumbles.

Be not afraid;
You have what you need.
To God and His promises
We all must take heed.

God grants the rain,
The stars, sun, and moon.
Give thanks and give praise,
For He’s coming soon.

She wandered for years
In war-torn lands.
Why she didn’t go home,
I don’t understand.

Sometimes begging,
Sometimes stealing.
You’ve got to survive —
Starvation not appealing.

Oh, where can I go, Lord?
Will I ever find a home?
It’s only in Your arms, Lord,
That I won’t feel forlorn.

What comfort I receive
When gentle raindrops fall
Upon my roof — and I
Am dry beneath it all.

What comfort I now feel
When warm inside my bed,
Like mom who wrapped me in her arms,
And always kept me fed.

What grief I sense for those
Who under freeways sleep
Who struggle every day to find
Security to keep.

My heart is broken now
For families torn apart.
For strife and anger uncontained,
The wounds of broken hearts.

O, gentle raindrops, tell
Those suffering now from want,
That there’s a God Who loves them still;
He loves your broken heart.

Travelling on a Misty Morning

A misty morning in southwest Ohio —
The moisture hugs the ground,
Oozing out from the damp earth.

We pass an alpaca ranch, and horse stables.
There’s an old, high, stone wall
Surrounding a mansion, making a fortress.

It’s cool now, but the fog will burn off,
And a rainless day
Will keep the farmers busy.

Now is the Time

Now is the time to be living.
The events of the past are for learning.
The future, for what we are hoping.

Make memories now while you can.
The past is no longer at hand.
Don’t build the future on sand.