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Archive for August, 2008

For some reason I have had an easier time writing about my sisters death than my dads.  Several times I have sat down to write this post only to think of something that I had to jump up and do.  Hmmmmm I wonder what that’s all about.  Maybe I’ll find out as I write.

During a routine check up for his old back problem my dad found out that he had prostrate cancer.  This was back in 1973.  He was lucky that they found it in it’s early stages and he was able to have radiation treatment that took care of it and he was healthy for 21 years.  Then it came back with a vengeance.  He was 81 and still vital, working in his garden every day and feeling young.  They told him that if he would let them remove his testicles, it would extend his life.  This was a very hard choice for him.  I don’t know if it had anything to do with him being a Texan or not but it sure didn’t help.

My parents were Christians, and they went to church every Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night too.  Sex was a big sin unless you were married but if you were married…Yipee.  I think my mom and dad had one of the best and most active sex lives ever.  When I was growing up one of my fondest memories was that every day when he came home, he acted like he just couldn’t wait to get his hands on my mom.  Nothing X rated in front of the kids you understand, but we got the message.  I think it gave me and my sisters the best impression of a healthy love life between a man and wife.  All I wanted as a kid was to grow up and marry a man like my dad.

A year or so after he had the radiation for the cancer, he found that he couldn’t have sex as much as he wanted and boy that didn’t set well with him at all.  He got on that phone and called the doctor in Houston and wanted some answers and he wanted them right NOW.  I remember my mother laughing as she told us girls the story about how that doctor had told him in no uncertain terms that after what his private parts had been through, the fact that he could have sex at all was an absolute miracle.  I think he decided that Gratitude was a better attitude.

So now it was back and he was having to face the fact that he wasn’t going to ever have sex again if he let them do it to extend his life.  My dad was a man of few words and we would never have known any of this if my mom had been the same way but lucky for us, she thought all of life was too rich to keep quiet about and she could make light of anything.  I remember when she told us about it, she said in her typical Texan style “Shoot…our sex life has been over for months”.  I like knowing that they had an active sex life until they were in their 80’s.

He decided to let them do it and it gave him two more years.  When it came back we were all ready for it or as ready as anyone can be for death.

We got into a pattern where I would come down from where I lived in Sonoma County (about an hour and a half away) on Thursday night and stay until Monday morning when my sister would come to stay until I arrived on the next Thursday.  My sister and I had not been close our whole lives until this time.  It is amazing how two people who are as different as she and I were, could unite in perfect precision to do what we did for our parents.  And we felt so blessed to be doing it.  

My parents had always been wonderful Christians and my sister had stayed in the church also but me…well I had read Khalil Gibran’s book “The Profit” when I was 24.  That book led me on a Spiritual Quest that hasn’t stopped until this day.  And since this was in the 60’s, of course the road lead through some ventures of “mind expanding” drugs, the ones that Dr. Timothy Leary said we should all take.  I thought it was a good thing to “Tune In…Turn On…and Drop Out”.

If you have ever seen the movie “Same Time Next Year” with Alan Alda and Ellen Burstyn, you have seen the progressions of my life.  I was a naive kid when I got married, then went blond, then became a hippy, then a straight woman, then a real estate manager.  

So it was at this time of being a real estate manager that my dad’s life was coming to an end and I got the call from my very straight Christian sister saying “Sharon…do you still have any of your old hippy connections that could get us some Marijuana?”

More about that in the next post.  Until then, I hope you all stay high.  Sharon

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I left off with my mom coming down from the foothills to pick up Janice’s ashes.  Well she had bought a little plot in the old historic “Gold Country” cemetery and that’s where she put Janice.  She had a granite monument made and everything.  

Back home where I lived, I was working as a waitress and I remember speaking to one of the customers about the experience I had of being with my sister when she died.  He said I should think about becoming a “Grief Counselor”.  He said that I should call the County Sheriff’s office and ask them about their program with Suicide Intervention and Grief Counseling.  

I took his advice and enrolled into the program and felt like I had settled into my purpose in life.   I was young then and had much to learn but I was on my way.  This was in 1977 and 78.  Moving ahead to 1991, I don’t remember who suggested it but I heard about a course called “Attitudinal Healing” that was going to be taught for people who were interested in helping people that had terminal illness’s.  It was being taught by Dr. Jerry Jampolsky’s organization in Marin County…just north of San Francisco.

I enrolled in that training and was introduced to so much, not the least of which was “A Course In Miracles”. I remember on of the members of his organization telling her story about how she had gotten AIDS from her husband who she thought was as straight as a board but wasn’t.  When it all came out because he had contracted the disease and had then passed it on to her, she wanted to know why he had felt he couldn’t tell her the truth.  He reflected back to her the life long hatred she had had for “gay men” and in that moment, she saw herself and wanted to be different…to be healed.  She took care of him with love while he died and she was led to become a counselor with Dr. Jampolsky’s group.  She told us that getting AIDS was the best thing that ever happened to her because it had brought her to “The Truth” about who she was, who we all are.  She devoted the rest of her life to taking care of dying “Gay Men”, loving everyone of them and feeling it a privilege to do the work.

Back at the ranch, my mom and dad were getting older and felt that it was time to move closer to me and my remaining sister and hospitals.  I was managing a real estate office and helped them get a great home that was perfect for them.  They were able to be in the same congregation as when I was that little five year old wanting to see the dead person.  “Pat” the Native American was even still there.  Life was good.

Except…Janice was still up in Georgetown and it was really bothering me.  I asked my mom if it bothered her that we had left Janice behind and I believe her comment was something like “What in the Sam Hill’s wrong with you?  She’s not there…she’s gone.  That’s just dust”.  Southerners talk like that.  I knew I shouldn’t have brought it up to her so I went to my dad.  I asked him if it was bothering him and he said “I think about it every day”.

I told my mom that like it or not…it was bothering both me and my dad and I wanted to get her ashes out of there.  So my mom arranged for me to be able to go get them.  I remember thinking it wasn’t something I could ask anyone else to do with me.  It was a job for the Lone Ranger…but I sure needed a Tonto.  

On the way up there, I remember thinking “I bet I can find a strong young man that would help me dig her up for $20.00 bucks.  I pulled into the tiny town and went into the little store and there was a kid about 16 years old with his mom and they were speaking to the woman behind the counter in a lazy way, just shooting the breeze.  I got up my courage and approached them and said I had a very strange request.  I told them what I needed and the boy’s mother asked him if that was something he could do and he said “Sure”.  So we were off to the Cemetery.  Now I had only brought one shovel and I felt that I needed to help him dig because she was just in a tupperware container somewhere in a regular grave size plot and I knew that it would take some digging to find her.

So I screwed up my courage again and went to the house next to the cemetery and asked to borrow a shovel.  They looked at me sort of strange but loaned me one anyway.

It didn’t take too long to find her and the kid even helped me load the headstone into the back of my Jeep and I was off for home.  I put the headstone in my back yard under a tree but there was no way Janice was going back into the ground.  She was going into my house in a safe place.  My mom and my sister still thought me and my dad were a bit nuts on the subject but we were content.  I had her back and now it was time to start working on my mom and dad.  I needed to convince them to be cremated.  By this time, I knew that I had probably lived a past life in China or somewhere that the remains of ancestors are revered and protected and carried from place to place.

I remember having a conversation with my dad about caskets.  He wanted me to go with him to pick out a casket for him and my mom.  He wanted to have everything taken care of so that when he and my mom died, my sister and I wouldn’t have to do anything but say goodbye.  

We went to the place where they had their plots and with my mom’s admonition in mind (“I want the cheapest pine box they got…I’ll only be dust!”) we looked at their selection of caskets.  Well, the “Pine Box” was the most expensive casket they had and the cheapest one was over two thousand dollars.  My mom hit the roof at the cost and even thought they were comfortable (not wealthy but very comfortable), they had gone through the depression and she was thrifty to the bone.  She said “That does it!  I’m being cremated”.  In my heart I was saying “Yipee…I get to have her because that creeps my sister out and she won’t want them”.

Well a few years after that, my dad’s Prostrate cancer came back and it was a downhill slide for him.  I had always told my dad that I would never allow him or my mom to go to any kind of facility and I remember him saying “Kid…you may not have a choice”.  My response was “Wanna bet?  Just watch me”.  I knew with every fiber of my being that there was nothing that would get in my way when it came to taking care of my parents.  Don’t forget, I had learned about “Commitment” and that when you are truly committed, providence moves to aid you in that commitment.

I must say that I was fortunate at that time to have a very loving understanding boss that allowed me to work from my dad’s bedside on Fridays which allowed me and my sister to take turns being with him and my mom at the end, and that allowed him to die at home.

More about those few rich months in the next post…and once again, thanks so much for traveling this journey with me.  Sharon

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My first experience with death was when I was about 5.  One of the church members had died at the paper mill where he worked.  He fell into some sort of pressing machine and was crushed.  I remember hearing the adults talk about it and wondering what a “crushed person” would look like.

 

We went to the funeral and as always, I wanted to sit next to my mother’s Native American friend Pat.  She always let me stand up on the pew and my head was even with hers.  I liked being able to look at her black eyes straight across from my blue ones.

 

Anyway, at some point it was time for the congregation to file past the open casket.  I begged Pat to lift me up to see him.  As I looked down at his face, I was glad to see that they were wrong about him.  He wasn’t crushed…he was just asleep.

 

As the years went by, there were kids at school that died, some friends, some aquaintinces, some older relatives, some neighbors or other people on the outskirts of my life.  But it wasn’t until I received a call from my mom in 1977 saying that the pain my sister had spoken of at the family reunion a few weeks before had been diagnosed as terminal cancer, that the reality and finality of death landed like a ton of bricks on our collective hearts.

 

She was the beautiful one in the family.  The perfect cook…the perfect housewife…the perfect mom.  Her dream in life was to be a mom and it took her longer than most to get those beloved children and then she was suddenly gone in 42 days leaving a 6 year old daughter and a 9 year old son.

 

In those 42 days, a cure was sought by any method available and she wound up in Alabama at a clinic that gave “Laetrile” treatments on the sly because it wasn’t approved by the FDA.  It was from peach pits or something but it didn’t work.  I remember having a conversation with my mom asking when they were all going to come back to California for regular treatments here.  My mom cried and said that they wouldn’t be bringing her back home.  She said she was going to die there and it wasn’t going to take very long either because she was close to death that day.  I asked how she was going to transport her body home and my mom said “O honey, she and her husband talked about this years ago and agreed to be cremated.  I asked if her ashes were going to be interred or spread around somewhere and my mom was shocked at the thought of either of those choices.  She said “Well I don’t know what they will do with her ashes…she’ll be gone…what does it matter?”  I was stunned.  I knew I had to get there.

 

I flew into Birmingham on a Sunday afternoon just as her husband was flying home to intercept their children who had been on vacation with family friends.  It was just me, my mom, my sister, her mother-in-law and the incredibly sweet staff of that hospital. 

 

As I came into her room, she was coming out of the bathroom with the help of my mom and I was so shocked to see how she had changed.  She was completely bald from the one big blast of Chemo they gave her after the damning biopsy and she wanted her wig so she could sit on the side of the bed and talk about normal things like everything was alright.  That was the last time she was out of bed.

 

She slept through the next two days needing only liquid Valium.  At one point a nurse told my mom that they were going to have to put a feeding tube down her throat to keep her alive.  My mom knew that my sister has a real thing about her nose and would have a fit.  She told them that they would have to wake her up and get her permission before proceeding and that if she didn’t give her permission…it wasn’t going to happen.

 

My sister was very reluctant to come back to consciousness but she was finally there and when she heard what they wanted to do she said no.  The nurse tried to reason with her explaining that if she didn’t get some nourishment, she was going to die.  The nurse said “You don’t want to die, do you?”  Her mother-in-law was on the other side of the bed asking her the same question “you don’t want to die…do you?”  I could feel my sisters frustration as she raised her waisted body up a fraction and said “I’ll sue you if you put that tube down my nose”.  

 

At that point something caused me, the little sister who never really had a voice in the family or any credibility because I was the “hippie child”, to rise up to be her advocate.  I moved the nurse out of the way so I could look her in the eye and ask her the question: “Janice…are you ready to leave?”  And she said “Yes!!!” I told her to just go back to sleep then and it would be alright.  I knew it upset her mother-in-law but I also knew that my wonderful practical mother was relieved.

 

That was on Tuesday.  That night it was my turn to sit up with her because we never let her be alone as she slept.  At about midnight I nodded off and was immediately transported up to a corner of the ceiling where I sat visiting with Janice.  I was listening to her talk about her situation.  She told me that the only thing she really regretted was the fact that she wasn’t going to get to raise her children.  In my dream, I didn’t have any ties to the earthly plane so I told her “Well if you want…you could take my body and use it to raise your kids and I will take your place and move on”.  She turned to me and said “You really wouldn’t mind doing that?” and I assured her that I was serious about believing that what came after death was really exciting and I was looking forward to it.

 

So she thanked me and we switched.  She went down into my sleeping body in the chair and I realized that I was probably going to have to go down and fit myself into that cancer riddled body and at that moment, I jerked awake with the realization “That’s why she hates to be awakened…it causes her to have to come back into the physical form” and I knew that I would do anything to keep her asleep until she died.

 

The next day as my mom and Janice’s mother-in-law were at breakfast, the doctor came in and as we were standing there quietly speaking while looking at my sister so peacefully asleep, he was saying what a shame it was that she was dying so young and leaving such little kids behind.  I told him that what was bothering me the most was that she was going to be cremated and her ashes scattered there in the South.  He said “O honey I know what you mean…none of mah people have evah been cremated”.  I told him it wasn’t cremation that was bothering me, it was the fact that her ashes were going to be left there in the South and she had always hated the South and their prejudice  ways.  He turned to me and said “Well I could have them mailed to you…would you like that?”  

 

Boy…it was decision time.  I knew I should call her husband and ask him but what if he said no?  What would I do then.  I looked down at her and in my mind said “Janice…what do you want me to do?”  And I swear I heard her say “Get me out of here”.  So I said yes and he handed me a piece of paper on which to write my name and address.

 

When I came back from lunch later that Wednesday morning, my mom was rushing out of the room.  She said my sister was dying right then and she couldn’t stand to be in the room.  I knew there was no place I would rather be and as I went in, I could feel my sister’s presence so strongly.  I wanted the nurse to leave which she did and I got to be alone with her.  I was so happy for her and she looked radiant.  I remember her skin looked flawless like a baby’s.  

 

She and I stayed with her body until the ambulance came.  We stayed while they zipped up the body bag and we walked behind the cart down the hall and out the door.  We watched them load her remains into the ambulance and as it drove away I said to her “Well Janice…I’ll see you in California” and at that moment I felt her lightly and in gratitude, fly away home.

 

Back in the adjoining room, my mom was throwing things in a suitcase.  I asked when she thought we could get a flight home and she said, “We’re getting out of here right now”.  It was something she could control and boy she did.  We were on a plane home within a few hours of Janice’s death.  I remember seeing huge headlines on the front of newspapers at the airport “THE KING IS DEAD”.  I remember thinking “Hey Janice, you and Elvis left close to the same time”.

 

Two weeks later at home in California, I got a slip from the post office stating that there was a package for me from Alabama.  I couldn’t wait to have her home with me.  I didn’t tell anyone in the family but all of my friends knew I had her and what a relief it was to me.

 

Three months later I got a call from my remaining sister.  She called to tell me that my dad was having a really hard time with my sister’s death.  She said that it was driving him crazy that her ashes had been “thrown away” in Alabama.  She said my mother just couldn’t understand why he felt like that.  Dead is dead and the Bible says…well you probably know the drill.  Anyway, I said I understood how my dad felt but my sister felt the same way as my mom. 

 

I got off of the phone and called my parents.  My dad answered the phone which was unusual and I asked him how he was doing.  He said “Not too good kid”.  I asked him why and he shared his feelings about her ashes.  I thought I had called to try and comfort him without admitting what I had done because when I told my sister, she had a fit and was appalled that I had gone “against Janice’s husband’s wishes” and I felt guilty but not sorry.

 

I decided to fess up and I told my dad that the doctor had offered to send the ashes to me.  My dad said “Yeah but it didn’t happen and now there’s nothing we can do about it and it’s about to drive me crazy”.  

 

I can’t explain the depth of joy it gave me to tell my dad that I had said yes to the doctor and that I had her ashes in my possession.  How often does a child get to give a parent that they love dearly, the greatest gift ever?

 

A few months later my parents came down from the Sierra Foothills where they lived for a visit.  While my dad was out doing errands my mom said, “I want you to give me Janice’s ashes because we have arranged to have them buried in the little Georgetown cemetery (where they lived) and even though your dad is happy to have them, actually dealing with them will be upsetting for him.  So I want to put them in my suitcase before he gets back”.  I told her that I had wanted to have my friends who were glass blowers, make a glass container that nothing would be able to get inside of and she said “O shoot…I have a big Tupperware container, and nothing gets through Tupperware.”

 

So that’s the first installment of my “Janice” story.  There’s more but I have to go to Curves now.  Thank you for listening to my story.  Later I will be writing the rest of it and how it led me to become a “Grief Councilor”.  Do you have a story?  I would love to hear it.  

 

Have an alive day.  

 

Sharon

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Lately even if you don’t watch television or read the newspaper, you can still feel something uncomfortable in the air.  People are talking about the economy and how bad it is, the unemployment situation, banks going out of business, etc.

There’s evidence for some “doom and gloom” out there floating around and if you don’t care to pay attention to it, you can be labled an ostrich with your head in the sand.  But what good does it do us to give it a thought?  Even a little thought?

If all thought is creative as we have learned from the Scientist in “What the Bleep”, shouldn’t we be doing something about it?  What if we all decided to re-label “Fear” as “Excitement”?  What would happen if our collective consciousness turned away from the notion of fear and always called it excitement?  Would it have a noticeable effect on our day?  I believe it would.

Today I am going to be teaching a “Scripts & Dialogue” class to some REALTORS(R) and that field is just ripe with fear lately, and it’s a real challenge for them to stay on the sunny side of the street as they go about their business.

I believe that in “Fat Times” we coast and now we have an opportunity to really see what we are made of.  It is my personal responsibility to “light my little candle” and shine a light so that I can see my way and hopefully illuminate the path of someone else today.  Maybe have them use my flame to ignite their own.

Today I will go out there and be “Excited” and be glad for it.

Have an uplifting, excited, illuminated day.

Sharon

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This is the year I turn 64.  I can remember so well when Paul McCartney sang “Will you still need me…will you still feed me, when I’m 64?”  I can remember how old I thought it was.  You know what?  It isn’t old at all. 

At this time in my life, I find myself more eager than ever to take on new challenges, to boldly go where I’ve never gone before…into that “inner-terraine”.  For a long time I wondered what my life would be like if I had the dicipline to have a committed exercise plan, stay on a healthy diet and meditate every day.

I have been going to Curves faithfully for 2 1/2 years now, I have become a Vegan (haven’t cheated or slipped once) and meditation is the last goal to be implimented as a habit and not a “once in a while” thing.

Someone sent me a link to Matt Clarkson’s site (I think I may have mentioned him before) and today is the day that I get started on the last big addition to my personal dream for myself.  He says that 5 minutes a day opens a possibility, 15 minutes creates a change, 30 minutes builds a new path and 1 hour a day changes your world.

Boy am I ready.  I’m ready to see what comes up to keep me from doing it.  I know that there is an inner barrier to my full self actualization.  If there weren’t…I would already be self-actualized. “Self discovery”!  It’s exciting isnt’ it?.  I think it is.

So today is day one.  In being a student, I am to commit to do one action step each day, but since I am a student of Yaro’s on this blogging journey as well as a student of Matt Clarkson, I will be doing two daily activities…Meditating and Blogging, first thing in the morning.

I am supposed to have an “Act of Service” somewhere in my life plan also.  I have thought about that a lot and what I love to do is serve people.  If there had been a career possibility in waitressing, I would never have left it.  I just loved serving people food and saying “Is there anything else I can do for you?”  Recently I baked “hot rolls” for Loaves & Fishes” until they shut it down.  So I’m on a hunt for another outlet for that need of mine to “serve”.

The thing that keeps coming to my mind is that while I don’t like the word coaching because it sounds like the coach is above the person being coached… serving in that way, no matter what I call it, has been one of the most rewarding things I have ever done.

I want to find a way to “facilitate”  Spiritual growth, by reminding people who and what they really are.  And I want to do it for free.  I want to be the “Ann Landers”…the “Dear Abby” in a Spiritual way. 

So I am on a hunt for how best to get the word out.  I have a feeling that by doing this blog, meditating every day, having an open heart and a willingness to serve…it will come to me, at just the perfect time.

And just to keep it real…my ants are back!

Sharon

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I like to think of myself as a “Spiritual being having a Human experience”, but in the last several months, two different issues came up almost like a test at the end of a semister of Life Class 101.  Both of the situations had several different elements that looked like they could be the main culpret underlying the central issue.  Both of these situations caused me a lot of grief and as I noticed myself being pulled away from inner peace (always a sign that my ego is in control), I felt that both issues had one thing in common…money.  More specifically, they had “loss of money out of my pocket” in common. 

As I struggled with trying to get back to a place of peace, I noticed that I could move into calm waters but they merely lulled me into a sense of false security and that almost anything could trigger me back into the “rapids” of painful feelings.

I would just get to a place of believing that I had put it all behind me and someone would ask me a question or it would come up in some manner and I would be right back in that boat going down the white water of emotional angst.

Since Spiritual growth is my main mission and I chose to work towards that end by “service”, I had to notice that I certainly wasn’t serving myself by staying in that place.  I needed to handle my attitudes and feelings about those two situations and more specifically the two people involved.

Sometimes as I am looking for help through the front door, it comes in through the back.  I’m not sure how but I got on a list to receive emails from Matt Clarkson, a meditation trainer [mattclarkson@secretsofmeditation.com], and I decided to buy his guided meditation on “Acceptance” not realizing what a great gift it would be for my two unresolved situations.

As I downloaded the guided meditation and settled down for the experience, the thought crossed my mind that it might work for an old situation that still had the power to activate a mild irritation in my psyche…and it worked beautifully.  I felt released immediately and I actually had an opportunity to experience it in reality as the situation came up again.

But it wasn’t until this morning as I was wondering what I would write about in this post, that I sat down for my morning guided meditation on “acceptance” (it is still my favorite one), and realized that my ego had been successfully hiding the two “big ones”.  I don’t know about you, but my biggest challenge is to keep my ego from hiding my warts.

I remember once reading a book called “Conversations with the Devil” which was a satire, and in it the author said something to the Devil about how he must be so proud of all the evils he creates and the Devil said “Actually, I do my best work by causing people to forget”.  That has always stuck with me because at least in my case, it is so true.

So, back to “Acceptance”.  The dictionary says it is the “experience of a situation without the intention of changing it”.  But just because I couldn’t do anything to change the situation, didn’t mean I accepted it.  In fact I was quietly resisting both situations every step of the way.

I am now in the process of bringing both of these situations to the light of acceptance in my mind and I can now see that they were merely a “Spiritual Class Project”…one that I failed over and over as I took every chance to trot out the injustice of it all when engaged in conversation (I had lots of evidence) about them both.

The wonderful thing about Spiritual Class Projects, is that we always get another chance for “Make-Up Tests” and I know I will too.  Something else is going to come up that looks like a loss of money or income or in the form of a large financial outlay that is necessary for Dental or Health reasons…but now I know the secret.  It is just to say quietly to myself when something pulls me off of my peaceful center, “I accept…I accept…I accept”.

Have an “accepting, peaceful, joyful day.

Sharon

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Accessing “Grace”

Why is it that I can want to do something like lose weight, or get into a good habit like making the bed as soon as I get out of it, or doing the dishes as soon as I’m through eating, I can even want it so bad my teach itch…but it is a crap shoot as to whether or not I am going to be successful actually doing it.  Sometimes it seems like it’s only by “Grace” that I can slip into that state of mind that allows me to get into that space with ease.

So what is “Grace” and how can I access it at will?  Since “Grace” is the word that comes into my mind when I think along these lines, I thought I would look into it a little deeper to see if I could find a clue.  I started off my search by going online to Wikipedia.  Boy was I suprised at how many different types of “Grace” there were. 

There’s people named Grace, places named Grace, there’s a software “plotting tool” named Grace and the Minnesota state photograph (I didn’t even know that States had a “State Photograph”) Grace, photograph by Eric Enstrom, 1918.  It touched my heart just to see it and I’m proud of Minnesota for choosing it.

So keeping my nose to the ground, I looked further and found that in addition to this information, there’s a short story named “Grace” by James Joyce, “Grace” can also be a form of address such as “Your Grace”, there’s a car by Hyundai named “Grace” and even a Stargate episode by the name of “Grace”.

In religion, it gets even more complex.  There’s “Grace” said before or after a meal, which I think everyone is familiar with, and “Divine Grace” (which was a shock to me personally to see that it was “unearned favors received from God”.  Then there’s “Prevenient Grace”.  Prevenient grace is divine gracewhich precedes human decision. It exists prior to and without reference to anything humans may have done.   Now this is getting a little closer…”Divine grace which precedes human decision.  Hmmmmm

But I kept looking.  I found “Irresistible grace” which in religion is a “Calvanistic doctrine” which I didn’t like at all.  You can look that one up if you like but it’s ideas like this one that caused me to take the “fork in the Spiritual road” that I took those long many years ago.

After all of my research on “Grace”, what I came to is simply the name Grace.  It comes from the Latin “gratia” and it means “effortless beauty”.  And you know what?  That’s how I feel when I find myself magically in that space where I am doing what I want…what brings me joy, and it is “effortless”.

Have a day filled with “Grace”.

Sharon

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