[I'm participating in the May Synchroblog. this month’s synchroblog is called “life unfurling” and is centered on the things that we’ve let go of in our faith along the way and ended up finding freedom.  At my age, I've had many things I've had to let go of, but this one deepened my relationship with God.  You can check out the other contributions at the bottom of this post. ]

[P.S. - As I was responding to the comment Kathy Escobar left for me, I was reminded (maybe the Holy Spirit) - of the story behind this story.

My youngest daughter was my model for allowing myself to "want" what I wanted - to express the desires of my heart.  At 19, Erica had traveled all over the world.  At 13, she went to Russia on a mission trip (1991 while it was very unstable in the former Soviet countries), later she made several mission trips to Mexico, at 17, she was a foreign exchange student to Germany with only 6 weeks of German language class, and at 19, she traveled to Poland - alone to meet a friend from Germany for the Christmas holidays. And she has continued to travel all over the world, even living in Bolivia for a year. 

When I told Erica one day, how she inspired me.  She reminded me that I had told her when she was very young, "if what you want is what God wants for you - and you show up and do your part - God will do his part - and it will happen."  I was confronted by my own words.  It forced me to begin the exploration of what are my "wants" and do I trust God enough to tell him what I want?  The rest of the story follows below and to present day.]  

I’m a recovering control freak.  My mom taught me to be a very responsible person.  Unfortunately, she taught me I was responsible for everyone else, but myself.  Learning to be responsible for myself has been challenging.

When you are responsible for everyone else, you put their happiness above your own.   That almost sounds noble, but it’s not. It means you deny who God has made you to be.  It means you don’t use your gifts and talents.   It means you are not a happy person, at least not most of the time.

When I was about 26, this started weighing on me.  By then, I was a wife and a mother of 2 wonderful children, worked fulltime, and we had moved into our first home.  I was miserable most of the time.  The short version is that I had an epiphany one day sitting in a neighborhood Girl Scout leaders meeting. I really felt like the Holy Spirit whispered in my ear.  I began to realize as much as I wanted the best for my children, God wanted the best for me, too.  If God really wanted the best for me, why was I so miserable most of the time?

Fast forward a few years, I had started practicing being responsible for myself and trusting that others really knew how to be responsible for themselves.  The people who had allowed me to be responsible for them didn’t like it so much.  They really didn’t want to be responsible for themselves.  It was a very difficult time in my life.  Not all of my relationships survived this transition.  That was painful. BUT I was becoming a healthy person both mentally, physically, psychologically, and emotionally.

Ahh, but that was only the beginning of the healing God was working in me.

The residual effect of all those years of being responsible for others had caused me to lock away my hopes and dreams.  Until, my youngest daughter went  off to college in the fall of 1997, I had not allowed myself to think about what it was I wanted to do.  But then in 1997, both my parents were diagnosed with terminal cancers and I was the primary caregiver – actually, the advocate for them.

My father died in eight very short weeks, but my mom lived for another 3 ½ years.  With caring for my mother, I really could not continue my career as a pension administrator and working 60 hour weeks plus mom’s care.  BUT I had to work.  We needed my income and my health insurance.

In 1998, I went to work at my church on a temporary basis.  Low stress, shorter hours, and health insurance.   Little did I know that I would be there 5 years.  When I had been there for a year, a position opened in the church bookstore for a new manager.  And God let me see that I really wanted that job. Even though I had no retail experience, I loved books and sharing them with others.  Reading books had saved my life as a child and helped me through a divorce and more.  At first, I wouldn’t even consider the thought.  Somewhere inside of me, I didn’t believe I deserved to have what I wanted.  Or more than that, I was afraid to want anything.  I had this idea that wanting something doomed me to not having it or losing it.  But others started asking me if I might be interested in the position.  I just couldn’t bring myself to feel how much I wanted to manage the bookstore.  As more people came to me, I began to think I might actually have a chance of getting this position.  And then, I let myself feel how much I wanted the job.  I mean I really wanted the job and I thought God was going to give it to me.  By this time, my mom was in an assisted living care facility.  It was near the church and I was able to stop by going and coming to see how she was.  There was space enough for me to actually have this thing I wanted. I applied. Went through the interviews, answered all the questions, took all the tests.  And Sharon in human resources told me she thought I would be perfect for it.  And, she gave the job to someone else.

I was devastated.  I had waited almost 25 years to finally allow myself to speak out that I wanted something, it seemed within my grasp, and it was taken away.  I was angry, sad, disappointed, frustrated, and mad at God for letting me want it when he knew I wasn’t going to get it.  I told him that was it!  I was never going to want anything again like that. It was just that the bookstore seemed like the perfect place for me, like it was designed for me.  How could I not have gotten the job?

My anger and disappointment lasted about 2 months.  I was tired of being miserable.  And so, we talked.  “You know God, I really do believe you want the best for me. AND if I really believe that then I also have to believe there is a reason that is beyond my ability to see that you didn’t allow me have this job. AND I realized I was grateful for the experience of dreaming again.  I had so forgotten how to dream.  It was a good feeling to dream and plan for something that I wanted.  I am letting go.  I am waiting to see what “you” have in store for me and what I am to learn from this or why you wanted that other person in the role.  In the meantime, I will be content with where I am.”

Almost exactly, twelve months later, my associate pastor came to me and asked if he could talk to me. Because of changes they were making, the bookstore was going to need a new manager.  He had heard that I had been interested in the position the year before and wondered if I was still interested.  I told him I was surprised they were making a change, and I would need to get back to him. 

That night I struggled with the question, did I even want the job anymore?  I wasn’t sure.  Was this where God wanted me now?  Again, I wasn’t sure, but I did know that my position was being eliminated and if I didn’t take this job, I would need to go job hunting.  And yet, I still wasn’t sure.  I knew I could not continue working at the church in a support role.  Coming from the corporate world, I had been used to having my own work to do.  Working at the church had forced me regress to the kind of work I had done when I was young.  I was working below my capabilities and capacity.  It was time for me to move on or into a role of responsibility.  Running the bookstore would give me the kind autonomy and responsibility I was used to having. 

Still, I was not sure.  Knowing that they were terminating the bookstore manager immediately, I agreed to give it a 90 days trial.  This would allow us both to try it on for size.  With no retail experience, could I really turn the bookstore around?   At the end of 90 days, I knew.  This was the place for me.  At the end of that year, working with my team the bookstore increased sales by 50% and had its first profitable year in the 15 year history of the bookstore. We had a lot of fun together.  Served and ministered to everyone who walked through our doors.  It was a very powerful time for me and the team I worked with.  It became my ministry.

I am grateful that I had those twelve months to let go and let God.  If I had been in the bookstore when I wanted, I would not have worked with the Empower ministry – Mark, Kande, Matt, Nancy, and Jim.  Working with that team shifted something for me and helped equip and prepare me to run the bookstore.  It also gave me time to build a long term friendship.  

Letting go of my fear, my anger, disappointment and letting God be in control was huge lesson.  It increased my capacity to trust God in all things - to know that even when bad things and disappointments happen, He is standing with me.

Read more about how life unfurling for others has been a good thing:

• John Martinez at Indie Faith – Letting Go of the Holy Me
• Beth Patterson at Finding Ground – What is Passed Over is Not Love
• Jeremy Myers at Till He Comes – Help, I’m Lost and Can’t Find Myself
• Ellen Haroutunian – Life Unfurling
• Marta Layton – On Burdens, Blessings, Babies and Bathwater
• Alan Knox at The Assembling of Church – Where Did I Go? 
• Crystal Lewis – What Happened When I Let Go
• Pam Hogeweide at How God Messed Up My Religion – Letting Go of a Church-Centered Me
• K.W. Leslie at the Evening of Kent – Legalism, Anti-Legalism, and Anti-Anti-Legalism
• Ryan Harrison  at How We Spend Our Days – Scraping the Barnacles
• Kathy Escobar at The Carnival in My Head - Letting God Off the Hook
• Christine Sine at Godspace – Giving Up For God, What Does it Cost?
• Liz Dyer at Grace Rules – What Do You Do When You Are Not Sure
• Dan Brennan at Faith Dance – Letting Go for a Greater Good
• Elaine Hansen – Recovering Control Freak – Let Go?
• Wendy McCaig at View From the Bridge - Embracing the Grey
• Chris at The Amplified Life - Seasons of Life
• Kerri at Practicing Contemplative - Synchroblog 
• Jeff Goins - What You Get From Giving: The Paradox of Generosity 
• Jules Kennedy at The Wonderer - Letting Go..Watching the Rope Come Apart 
• Margaret Boehlman at Minnowspeaks – Breath 

Five years ago, I began standing with others on Mother’s Day.

The origin of Mother’s Day in the United States was not about brunch, cards, or flowers.  Those things are nice, but not what the day is really about. We have forgotten and need to reclaim that memory and intention.

In the 1800s, two women left their mark on the beginnings of Mother’s Day, Julia Ward Howe and Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis. These women were interested in creating engaged citizens – activists. In their day, the issues were improved health, sanitation, working conditions, and ending violence.  I can only guess that they chose to use Mother’s Day because they were mothers and were dismayed to think of their children suffering in this world they brought them into or harming another woman’s child.  I think fathers feel the same way.

While health, sanitation, and working conditions have improved in much of the world; violence has not. AND there are still children without clean drinking water, adequate food, access to education, or safety from violence.

It grieves my heart to think of the children that are suffering when there is so much abundance in this world.

The world tells us there isn’t enough of everything to invite everyone to the table, things are scarce and we need to get ours, take care of our own.  The world has grown too small for us to continue to hold on to this way of thinking and feeling. Scarcity thinking creates fear.  When we make our decisions based on fear instead of love, it is likely we will harm others. There is plenty of evidence in the world to support this theory.

This Mother’s Day, we invite you and your loved ones to stand for Love - to take back this day and help move the world with your love for one another and this beautiful blue Earth we live on - to make room at the table for everyone.

Please stop waiting for our governments to do what we as citizens of the world can do for ourselves. This is not a game of musical chairs where only one person is the winner and has a seat at the table.  Everyone deserves to be at the table. Come stand with me to make room for everyone to have a seat at the table.

Jane and I are standing on Mother’s Day, May 8 at 1pm at Hyde Park Square’s fountain and ringing our bells and holding the world in love. Join us where ever you are and know we are standing together.  You can find more information about our stand here and here and here.

A few weeks ago, as I drove through an intersection (I was the 4th car back and had arrived just as the light turned green) - the cars in front of me were swerving to the left to go around a stack of lumber that was in the middle of the intersection.  As my brain slowly processed what I was watching, I saw a man get out of a pick-up truck and walk toward the lumber.  He started sliding the lumber out of the intersection and closer to his truck.

I continued through the intersection and pulled into the parking space in front of Panera's.  I was heading there for a quick breakfast.  My brain continued to process what I had just seen.  Oh, if we all stopped and helped the man, we could clear the intersection quickly and have him on his way in no time. The whole many hands make light work kind of thing.  BUT, my brain reminded me no one around the man's truck was helping him. Ugh!

Then, I locked up my purse in my trunk and walked the short distance of about half of a football length to the intersection.  As I was approaching his truck, to my left, I saw a man had parked his car in an empty lot next to the 6 lane road and was also headed to the man's truck.  We arrived at about the same time.  Together, he and I grabbed two long boards and carried it to the back of the truck to be loaded.

For a brief moment, I thought - oh yeah. Now others will get out of their cars and help too.  BUT no.  I was wrong.  In short order, the lumber was loaded.  With a thank you I appreciate your help, he was on his way.

Who have you driven/walked past that you could have paused and helped?  Really, it is okay to get our of your car, step across the street - to help each other.

Something prompted me to look at this email again.  I wondered why.  Then I remembered. It is getting close to the date that my mother died - only eight days before her 75th birthday.  My parents were both diagnosed with cancer - within 2 weeks of each other.  My father died 8 weeks after his diagnosis.  In many ways, my mother died then, too. But her body hung on for another 3 1/2 years.

A few weeks ago, a friend asked me if I had any words to give her to help comfort a friend. Here is what I told her.

"I have been sitting with your invitation to help you with words to comfort a friend.  I am honored by it. I hope that what you say is true - that my words sometimes help to comfort or advise another. 

This woman has played a significant role in your life in making the connection for you and your husband.

For this woman who is about to lose a 4th husband to death, I find it overwhelming to even think about living through the grief of losing three husbands. I suspect she holds more wisdom in her on this subject than you and I will ever have - or at least I hope neither of us ever learns.

I suspect she knows all that I am about to say and more - and so my words are more for you than her.

The one thing I am learning about death and loss (I do not want to act like I have "learned" it, yet.) - is that each of us finds our own way through these things if we are given the space.  I have found knowing  someone is "standing" with you means more than words could ever say. 

I’ve learned that grief comes in waves and in the beginning the waves are so big and violent it feels like they are going to rip you apart and carry you away...and it gets better.  The waves get smaller and farther apart...and never totally go away.  Hearing a train whistle still takes me to the joy I experienced with my father and the sadness that I feel that he is not on this planet anymore.  It becomes bittersweet.

As I have lived through the grief in my life and observed others doing the same, it seems the capacity  for gratitude and being present in the moment - letting go of the what ifs, if onlys, and what might have beens, helps tremendously.

Gratitude for my spiritual life, belief that I am part of something bigger than myself, the beauty and elegance of a sunrise, this planet - these pleasures and more help carry me through these times.  Knowing I have a friend who will stand with me - not fixing, saving, rescuing, or giving me advice - but standing with me means a lot.

I envy other cultures that have a process of grief - and the community respects it.  Too often, in our culture, I hear people speak out of their discomfort with your grief and their own. They try to "move" you along by saying things like, “he's gone, get over it.”

Saying to another, I am here.  I am prepared to listen and not speak.  I am prepared to sit with my own discomfort to create a vessel of safety for you to be.

I hope there is something in all that I have offered as a gift. Take what you need and leave the rest. Peace.

It was spring.  Lots of spring cleaning kinds of things to do in that kind of weather. I’d made my list of supplies to pick up and was almost ready to leave to run my errands when I looked out the kitchen window.  There in the back yard, my husband, Eric was trimming and cutting away at the fast growing honeysuckle and the bushes and shrubs that were turning into trees.  As he was working with the chainsaw, I had this vision flash into my head.  It was like I had glimpsed into the future.

In this future, only a few hours ahead in time, I was gone and Eric was working at the back of our lot.  As he was working with the chainsaw to trim back this overgrown shrub, one hand slipped off the chainsaw. The chainsaw came crashing down on his left leg, just at the knee and cut deeply into his knee.  He lay there unable to drag himself to the house to call for help.  It was a work day and our neighbors were not home.  There was no one to hear his calls as he slowly bled out. A few hours later, I return home to find my husband dead in the back yard.

This flash all occurred in a split second. It was like being teleported into the future and back.

Oh my, God! What do I do with this?  I stood there staring out the window watching him work.  Knowing if I asked him to stop working until I got back from my errands, he’d think I was nuts.  And then this other knowing came over me, I cannot live my life in fear of what “might be”.  If I live in fear, how will I ever go off and run my errands, now or in the future?  My power to control things is very limited.  I realized that I did have the power to pray.  I chose to believe that evil had planted that fearful thought into my mind at that moment.  I began to pray and rebuke that thought in the name of Jesus, to replace that thought with God’s promises and love.  I prayed that the Holy Spirit would stand guard over my husband and acknowledged she was far better at that than me. I gave my husband’s care over to God. Surrender.  And as, I neared the end of my praying, I was filled with peace. Off I went to run my errands.

A few hours later, I returned home from my errands to find my husband watching sports on tv.  He was bathed and dressed after his afternoon of yard work. He had accomplished a lot of much needed work on the yard.  As I sat next to him on the couch, I noticed a band-aid on his knee.  What’s that band-aid for?  His face flushed with embarrassment.  What an odd reaction, I thought.  It was only a small band-aid.  Then he told me this story.  He said, after I left, he continued working in the yard.  He only had one more tree to trim – one more branch to finish the job.  As he used the chainsaw on this branch, another branch got in the way. When that happened, he didn’t skip a beat – he lifted his left hand off the chainsaw to push the invading branch out of the way and realized that was the wrong thing to do – too late. The weight of chainsaw (still running) caused his right hand to slip and the chainsaw blade came down upon his left knee.  And then, mysteriously, it stopped running.  The blade nicked him, but the chainsaw stopped running.

He was embarrassed that he had made such a mistake of not using two hands to hold the chainsaw AND shocked to explain why it stopped running.  He realized that it could have been a very serious cut – maybe cut his leg off.

I immediately told him how thankful I was that he was okay and that miraculously the chainsaw turned itself off.  Then, I said, I have a story to tell you about just how miraculous I thought your story was.

A week ago, I watched a TEDxHouston video with a talk by Dr. Brené Brown.  Since then, I have watched every YouTube video with her in it, I can find.  I’ve read her website and blog.  Yesterday, her two books, “I Thought It Was Just Me” and “The Gifts of Imperfection” arrived.  Of course, I am trying to read them both at once.  What she has to say about the power of vulnerability so resonates for me.  I feel like she has provided the scientific research to support what I have felt intuitively and experienced in my own life.

I want to shout it to the rooftops for all to hear.  Embracing and modeling vulnerability could be the thing to set you free. Yes, it is a little freaky.

Brené (notice how I already call her by her first name, like we are pals) – is a storyteller researcher from the University of Houston.  She studies “shame and empathy”.  In her research she discovered that our level of fear and empathy has a direct correlation to the level/depth of connections with others.  Life is about connections. Human beings are wired for connection with each other. 

Okay – I still need to read her books – so watch the video and discover for yourself the potential being vulnerable with others has in increasing the depth of your connections/capacity for empathy for each other.

You can’t just say, I’m not going to be afraid anymore. Nor can you say, I’m going to have more empathy for others.  What gets you there is your willingness to be vulnerable and share your weaknesses – and have compassion for others weaknesses and brokenness. 

It is not easy – and it is a process – and you can do it.  If we are going to save this planet, we need to restore our humanity and capacity to empathize with others.

Think of it this way.  Every time you decide to risk sharing who you are (be vulnerable with your imperfections) – you take a step away from fear and a step closer to empathy and connection - community.

Let me know how it goes.

The Big Dipper – Version 2.0

Looking at "the Big Dipper version 1.0" - leaves me feeling very sad and takes me back to how powerless I felt much of that summer.  No matter how much research I did, how hard I worked at learning this new vocabulary of cancer, hospitals, doctor's offices, and nursing care, I could not save my dad.  How did I survive that summer?  I survived because somewhere along the way, I had learned the gift of gratitude and to be thankful for everyday treasures.  It served me well during that long short summer.  

During that summer it was the other bright stars surrounding that Big Dipper's seven stars made me smile and makes me smile now.  In the midst of that summer, I could pull at a moment of laughter and joy and hold on.

The Other Stars:

Twinkle Star #1 - May 13 - my parents were married 50 years.  A huge milestone considering some of the struggles they had been through.

Twinkle Star #2 - May 17 - we surprised them with a 50th Anniversary Celebration - friends and family showed up to tell them how special they were to them.  How grateful I am that these people had a chance to say those things to Mom and Dad.  Thinking about it now, makes me tear up.  I did not know then it would be the last time many of them would see or speak to my parents.  My parents also had visits with their grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Twinkle Star #3 - June 5 - my youngest daughter, Erica graduated from high school and my parents were part of the festivities.  They had a special bond with Erica as they helped me raise her from birth to age 2 1/2 yrs.  It is a happy memory to hold on to.Twinkle Star #4 - June 15 - Erica wrecked my husband's mini-van and walked away without a scratch nor any harm to the driver that hit her.  How grateful we were to have her healthy and whole.Twinkle Star #5 - Late June/early July - My sister flies in to visit for a few days after Dad's diagnosis and we begin reconnecting.  She has lived in Louisiana for ten years and we have become strangers to each other. A new friendship and love begins to grow.  Twinkle Star #6 - After July 20th official diagnosis of Mom's cancer, Katie flies back to town.  She stays to help Mom and Dad in their home and to help me get them to and from the many doctors' appointments. Katie and I have some wonderful conversations and share laughter and tears as we walk this out.  She flies back home once we get Mom started on her radiation treatments.Twinkle Star #7 - August 13 - Dad's foot is amputated.  While he is in recovery, I run to the airport to pick Katie up. I bring her by the hospital so she could see him - even though he was not conscious when I left for the airport. As she and I prepare to say good night to Dad, the nurse asks who is staying the night with him?  No one had told me that this was required.  Katie stepped right into it. I am grateful that she was willing and able to do this.  I was exhausted from the past few days with Dad, Mom, doctors, and a fulltime job. I think I would have been pretty worthless to Dad that night.Twinkle Star #8 - August 25 - Katie is still in town.  She agrees to step into my role while Eric, Erica and I take some time off to go school shopping for college. It was an amazingly wonderful day.  All my cares fell away and I spent the day with the two of them, laughing and shopping, talking about Erica's future, what was college going to be like for her.  How excited we all were for her to go off to college at Hollins University in Roanoke Virginia.  How proud her grandparents were of her.  Just thinking about it now, makes me feel good.  In those next few days, Dad and I talk.  He tells me his regrets as a parent.  I tell him he was the best Dad and I would not trade him for another. I have no regrets but that we did not have more time.Twinkle Star #9 - August 28 - We leave that morning (after Katie's phone call at 7:30am about Dad) - for Roanoke.  We had made the decision that life is for the living and I knew from our conversations that Dad was looking forward to his girl going off to school.  He couldn't bear the thought of her missing the first day of college for him.  We arrive in Roanoke that evening and Erica is settled into her dorm.  We spend the next few days registering, paying tuition, buying furnishings for her dorm room, meeting her roommate and dorm mates, having dinner with her and them.  We leave her and head home on Sunday, August 31.

Katie and I meet with the funeral home and make all the arrangements for Mom.  She is too ill and too depressed to come with us.

Twinkle Star #10 - September 4 - Mom paid for the grandchildren to fly home for the funeral.  I am grateful we were able to do this for them and for Mom.  All summer, Mom and Dad's friends and neighbors helped us.  Sometimes they met me half way with Dad or Mom or even meet me at the doctor’s office (my parents lived 35 miles from me and the doctors) - Other neighbors took care of their five acres - mowing and bringing in the veggies from the garden. It was my father's last garden.  They visited Dad at the hospital every day.  I don't think Dad was ever alone. They helped Mom as much as she would let them.  The day of the funeral, I have no idea how many people showed up - 100+ easy.  The caravan to the cemetery had over 50+ cars.  My father had touched many lives.  He was a good man.I am grateful Dad and Mom had so many friends around them to love them when Katie and I could not be there.My father died, August 30, 1997, age 71. My mother died February 3, 2001, age 74.  I learned a lot that summer about the importance of having a patient advocate when you are "really" sick.  I put it all to work to keep Mom alive for 3 1/2 years not the 24 months they had given her.  Mom was able to make multiple trips to Louisiana and spend time with Katie and her children.  We traveled together to Katie's son's wedding in April, 1998.  Mom got to meet and hold her third great-grandchild.  Mom attended the wedding of her oldest granddaughter with two older sisters who flew in from Knoxville. It was the last time they would see her alive. The summer of 1997, my husband, Eric was my rock.  He walked beside me as I made hard decisions and ran myself ragged trying to save my dad.  He believed me when I told him I knew my father was going to have to have his other leg amputated.  Other family members and even the oncologist didn't believe me when I told them it was time to think of transferring Dad to hospice, but Eric believed me. Thank you Eric.The Summer of 1997 is not complete without all of these stars.  There were more.  While I did not include everything or every one, it is only because this note would have been too long for anyone to read.  Each person who touched my life that summer helped carry me through.  My hope is that in your darkest moments that you will look around for those other stars that they might help light your way through the dark.

*Chene' Swart of South Africa visited Cincinnati this spring.  She came to join us at A Small Group with Peter Block.  Chene' shared with us her work with "Narrative Therapy".  Here is my understanding of Narrative Therapy (NT) and how I have applied it to my life stories. NT shows us that we all have a story we tell ourselves about everything that has happened in our lives.  This story is created and somewhat determined by our age and level of maturity at the time of the event and our perceptions.  It does not mean it is not true, but it may not be the whole story.  For instance, when we look at the stars, many of us have learned to identify the constellations.  It doesn't mean there aren't other stars surrounding those constellations, but that the other stars are just not part of the constellation.

I’m very excited because TEDxCincy is happening on October 7.  (Cincy = Cincinnati, OH)

If you don’t understand my excitement, then perhaps you are not familiar with TED.com.  

Why am I excited?  Because the TED conferences that have been happening since the late 1980s has been geared to the elite and wealthy.  

In 2006, Chris Anderson made the decision to make the videos from these events public on YouTube.  Once he did that, it began to snowball.

What TED does is support and promotes innovation of all kinds.  TED stands for technology, entertainment, and design. Experts and innovators in all these fields compete to win a TED award. The award is $100,000 - but the real benefit is that you gain access to the TED community.  This community steps up and supports you in all ways.  You might need help with marketing - a new website - connections - the TED community can make all this happen for you.

Great ideas, inventions, and organizations that may have been floundering with no funding and no recognition gain all of that just by speaking at the TED conference.

Until Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor spoke at TED, no one knew who she was, the work she was doing with stroke victims, nor had any interest in her self-published book. Overnight she became a sensation - book publishers competing to publish her book, and interview on Oprah and more.

But the best part of TED for me has been the access to the YouTube videos. It has exposed me to ideas and people I would never have known about otherwise.  It has given me hope to know the great work being conducted all over the world to make this world a better place.  Very inspiring.

This article in the local Cincinnati SoapBox will help explain some of what a TED in Cincinnati will look like.

If you don’t live in Cincinnati, then go to the TED website and search to see if there is a TEDx coming to a city near you. They are popping up all over.

Hope to see you there. Thanks, Elaine

To begin, close your eyes (well read this paragraph first) – imagine it is a beautiful clear, cool summer’s night.  Look up into the sky at all the stars and the moon shining bright.  Now, find the Big Dipper.  Can you remember how you learned to find these seven stars and know they were the Big Dipper?  Slowly open your eyes and I will you my story about those stars.

I started playing with the image of the Big Dipper after a friend shared the idea that the stars are stories.  The Big Dipper is the Big Dipper because someone decided to connect those seven stars and give them a name (also called Ursa Major).  That’s how the constellations came to be.  Just as the constellations come from a story someone created to identify the night sky when traveling, so too we have stories about our lives. 

It started me thinking about my stories. What were my stories about those seven stars?  Each of those stars represents an event - a small story that created "The Summer of 1997" for me.

Star #1 - June 26 - my 71 year old father was rushed to the hospital because he was having trouble breathing.  The diagnosis was terminal lung cancer.  After more tests and visits to several doctors, we learned he had less than six months to live.  How could that be?  He seemed healthy. My dad walked three miles per day, square danced several times a week, and was very active in the VFW. All this, plus caring for the five acres and the huge garden they had. My sister, Katie and I were in shock.  The marathon race had begun and we were late off the blocks.  The grandchildren were devastated.  

Star #2 - July 13 - now that we know our parents' family physician had misdiagnosed my father's ailments for some time (despite knowing my father had asbestosis), I finally convinced them to go to a new doctor.  I took my parents to visit the new doctor.  My mom went back first.  She'd been having some back pain and her former doctor had told her it was arthritis.  While my mom was still in the examining room, they had my father and I go back.  I came along as my father was very hard of hearing. I acted as the interpreter because he could hear my soprano pitched voice. As I walked down the hall, I passed Dr. W. – and asked how Mom was. He said he was more concerned about her then he was my dad. Yikes!  A few days later, after re-running some tests, we learned that our mom had terminal cancer too.  Multiple myeloma - they gave her less than two years to live.

The following weeks (and the rest of the summer) were multiple trips to multiple doctors and the hospital for Mom and Dad while still working a more than full time job. Katie, my sister, was in town and helped as much as possible. But, I wanted to be at every doctor appointment to ask my questions. 

My father was having problems with his right foot which involved seeing a specialist for that, too.

Star #3 - August 13 - because of complications from the lung cancer, my father had to have his right foot - up to mid-calf - amputated.  He did amazingly well.  All his walking, swimming, and eating healthy paid off.  He was strong as an ox.  The nurses were shocked by how strong he was.  They had to strap him down immediately following the surgery recovery period to keep him from getting up. He responded well to all the therapy.  I had never realized how disciplined my father was.  How did I miss that growing up?  He was determined to do all that was required of him to make the best recovery he could.

Star #4 - August 20 - Dad was transferred to the nursing care facility because he needed additional OT and PT.  I tried to come by every day from work to see him.  I even helped him with the therapy.  When I asked to meet with the team people working with my dad to see how much longer he would need to be there - they told me they needed to keep him for an additional two weeks "because he was not increasing his lung capacity enough".  I almost fell out of the chair when they said that.  I think I told them - in a relatively calm voice - that my father was never going to increase his "lung capacity" no matter how long they did therapy. He was in the final stages of lung cancer.  They just stared back.  This freaked me out a little and I became more aggressive and assertive in my interactions with the nurses and therapist working with my dad.  I noticed in one of my visits that my dad was having some problems with his other leg.  I learned later that the nurse had made my dad sit in the chair for four hours and would not let him get back in bed, because it was good for him to get used to sitting up.  I reamed them pretty good for this, but the damage had been done.

After seeing how swollen my dad's good left leg was, I knew we had lost the race.  That it was highly likely they would ultimately want to amputate his other leg.  I visited the local hospice facility. Took the tour. Learned what was required to transfer my father there and picked up some literature about hospice. I went home and told my husband that I thought it was over.  We walked and talked and I cried as I faced the reality that the nursing facility had expedited my father's death and cheated us of a fwe more months with our dad.

When I visited my dad on August 27, I told him that I thought he was going to be faced with the decision to have his other leg amputated.  I hoped I was wrong, but I thought the cancer was winning.  He needed to decide how much pain and suffering he was willing to go through to prolong his life. Katie and I were up to the task and would do whatever he wanted.  My hope had been to get the full six months to be with him but I also did not want him to suffer needlessly.

Star #5 -August 28 - at 7:30am, I received a call from my sister saying that they were rushing dad to the hospital.  The doctor advised my father they needed to amputate the other leg right away.  My father declined and asked to be moved to hospice.  How does one find the courage to choose the path that they know will lead to death?

Star #6 - August 30 – My father is transferred to hospice.  Three hours after arriving, my father died with my mother, sister, aunts, and a friend by his side. We delayed having the funeral to allow all the grandchildren to fly in. And, ultimately, it gave my sister and I time to make decisions and do some processing.

Star #7 - September 5 –We had the funeral and burial. My mother was ill and I could not stay for the burial.  I took my mother to the hospital for emergency care.  I missed my father's burial and the twenty-one gun salute.  My mother was admitted to the hospital and spent the night.  I picked her up the next morning and she came home to live with us, never to live in her home again.  She was too ill to care for herself and lived too far away for me to care for two homes.

Our lives were changed forever in those eight weeks. But that was only those seven stars.  Tomorrow I will share the story of the other stars surrounding the Big Dipper.

Chene' Swart of South Africa visited Cincinnati this spring.  She came to join us at A Small Group with Peter Block.  Chene' shared with us her work with "Narrative Therapy".  Here is my understanding of Narrative Therapy (NT) and how I have applied it to my life stories. NT shows us that we all have a story we tell ourselves about everything that has happened in our lives.  This story is created and somewhat determined by our age and level of maturity at the time of the event and our perceptions.  It does not mean it is not true, but it may not be the whole story.  For instance, when we look at the stars, many of us have learned to identify the constellations.  It doesn't mean there aren't other stars surrounding those constellations, but that the other stars are just not part of the constellation.