Transition Time...Resistance is Futile

The time has come. The time is now. Just like it was time for Marvin K. Mooney, it is time for me to "just go now." 

I've never been one to wait until the exact time of transition, to transition. This major shift is no different than the last in that I am in full prep mode. My mind has accepted the change and now my body must respond with action. That is what seems to be delayed...

They say knowledge is power. The preparation has been where the power has shown up, and has been on-going for nigh on a year; my understanding of what is staring me down is clear, yet I hesitate to begin the process, knowing full well what is coming. But it is coming. Soon. The plan is to let the promise of an exciting next chapter in the life of one MJLewis, to begin as soon as possible. Pretty sure there will be "phases" I will experience, as the fist clench hold onto the comfortable begins to release its grip. At least, that is what I'm telling myself. At most, it's completely true. The exciting part. Meaning the previous 50 year chapter, has been worn out and used up. Yet it somehow feels as if passion is giving way to something else. Something that isn't fully understood, just yet. And so it begins.

Switching gears here, staying true to form, I'm reminded of the transition of Jesus our Christ (since today is Easter Sunday), when the time had come for the cross. Thinking of the time he gave his all that we might have life, if we so chose. In the here and now. Before he came, there was no choice. It all was certain death. Getting more real, I wonder what his prep time felt like. I wonder if he resisted for a time (like I have) before finally giving in to what he knew he must do. According to Scripture, he did. He went to the garden and spent the entire night asking for "this cup to pass from me" if it be the will of the Father. UNLIKE me and the transition I am looking at, the cup HE spoke of was the one he knew he must drink from...for us to have life. Real life. The cup that demanded he give his life, so we could have ours. So he might renew our understanding of whose we were/are. To restore our memories of him. To remove the deception of the one who convinces us we are worthy to be seen as perfect, worthy to think we know ourselves better than God does, and to give us freedom from the one who hands out empty promises. 

We must consider the physical and mental pain Jesus surely endured. For you and me. For all of humanity. I don't mean to compare my decisions with those of our Lord and Savior's. It's just sort of ironic, the process one (anyone) must take when transitioning. There always seems to be the "hold onto what you are familiar with" before giving in and loosing the grip we have on it. Even when it's not in the best of circumstances. And yet, another story is forming in my head. Oh, the rabbit trails this mind of mine does take. First the natural, then the spiritual. They walk hand in hand. Always connected.

A few days ago, while listening to an interview (wish I could remember who it was with...didn't recognize the name), with someone who had near death experiences (three, to be exact), my attention was focused on what he was saying. He had been "dead" for 20 minutes and already in the cooler, on the first go around. With each experience, the transition from this life to the next, was the same. He never felt death. "It is like stepping from this life, into the next. No death," he said. "I was immediately in the presence of God," he continued. 

That's what Jesus did when he said, "It is finished." Death had no hold on Jesus. Now, it has no hold on us.

There are times that a particular piece of my past life will flash into my mind. I rarely enjoy those moments and leave them as soon as possible. Still, I realize that was a former me; a former "life". A former condition. It's all behind me. I transitioned from that life to this one. Yet, for whatever reason, everything seems to have a connection to, well, everything! For instance, from the beginning of time, we all have had the need of transformation. Ever since the days of Adam and Eve, visiting with the enemy of their Creator, transformation has taken place. From purity, to impure. Then back again to pure...of heart. Restored. Made new. For which I am eternally grateful to Jesus, the Christ...who makes us whole.

Today is the day we celebrate the resurrection of our Christ, defying death. The one who transitioned for us. The One who left his throne to become fully man, while still fully God, to bring us life. To show us the way to be complete. How to walk among the injustices of this temporary world. To love with a pure heart, not a deceived one. And to give the promise of an eternity spent with him. "Oh death, where is your sting? Oh grave, where is your victory?" ~I Corinthians 15:55

May 5th is the day I truly begin the next phase of this earthly life, as the presence of my business's decorated walls begin their own transformation. Still working behind the chair until May 24th, just in a different atmosphere, so-to-speak.

Transformation, in literal terms, will begin soon. Very soon...

Looking forward to this next chapter of life, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Dad and His Sanctuary

Did you know a study has been done citing various physiological benefits of spending time in nature, including a decrease in stress hormones, sympathetic nerve activity, blood pressure, and heart rate? It would seem that some trees release aerosols that increase immune-fighting cells and even reduce fatigue. The term "forest bath" was coined in Japan and speaks of going to wooded areas for healing and restoration. Don't you find it the slightest bit interesting that science has discovered the restorative qualities of God's created world?  Something else I am finding interesting is the fact that I'm about to go full circle as this next part of my journey begins. Welllll...maybe not FULL circle, but I'm certainly looking back and considering walking at least a portion of the path I began on. It's also interesting all the surprises God is putting in front of me, lately. Not once have I considered "retirement" to be a thing for me. "It's not in my DNA," I would say. I was taught early on that work is not a dirty word, even though it may involve a bit of dirt. Work has always been a privilege to me. Sure, there were some jobs I had along the way that I did not like, but always appreciated what I gained from having them. Lots of lessons learned from the "School of Hard Knocks" as Dad would say. 

Dad was a pretty serious kind of guy, but if you watched closely, you would catch glimpses of his humor. He had the best smile! One would never guess he had so much on his mind. So much responsibility. So much caring for the least amongst us. For those who struggled in life. Maybe he could relate to them. Having 10 (make that 12, counting himself and mom), mouths to feed, he and mom certainly had no time for themselves. Sure...they both had their sanctuaries. Mom's was her garden of flowers. She was grateful for the garden where our food grew, and tended to it daily, but her flower garden was her sanctuary. But dad...

Dad would tell us he would be back in a bit, and head to the upper pasture where there were plenty of trees to prop up against, and plenty of open space to knell and seek instructions for the life he had been called to. I'm fairly certain he enjoyed the large patches of blackberry clusters he had to work his way around, as he headed toward his favorite tree. He most likely grabbed a few along the way, being careful not to reach in too far because of the chiggers that would attach themselves to him. Chiggers are a definite distraction!

As a child, I often wondered what he was doing in the woods for such a long time. As an adult, I pretty much know. Yet, I can only imagine the groanings he must have presented to God. Or the amount of worship he offered, as he thanked God for sending his son to cover our sinful nature and for the Holy Spirit who guides us when we don't know up from down, or just how we can manage the days and nights of being given the charge to guide others, in addition to taking care of his own family. 

As children, at least back in the era from which I came, we were not allowed in adult conversation. I can 't recall a time when I was even aware such a thing was happening. Yet it must have been. I do remember a time that I overhead Dad telling Mom the church he pastored had warned him about his new found faith of being holy spirit filled. He would have to leave the church if he preached about it. He loved the people of that church, so much so, that he withheld what God had shown him, had poured into him. Having heard this conversation, I was affected by it. In a most negative way. I wondered how he felt, knowing God had given him fresh understanding, yet wasn't permitted to share it with those he held close. Did he struggle because of it? Pretty sure he did.

Still, Dad had his sanctuary that he visited almost every day. There wasn't much time that he could remove himself from the daily needs of working a farm and running a sawmill. He had to make the time; remove himself from that life, in order to navigate it. I wonder if his heart pulled at him as he waited for the time he could commune with God and nature, knowing it was there he could let everything go while reaping the psychological benefits of spending time, alone with his thoughts, as he stepped from all the distractions that pulled him down. He must have loved his time with God. He must have loved the freedom his spirit felt as he encountered God's life-giving presence. It's what held him together. Of this I am sure. Simply put, Dad's sanctuary healed and restored him.

This blog post was formed to remind me of this fact, should I ever get too busy in this retirement I never saw coming. We all need a sanctuary. One that lets us commune with nature. One that allows us to breathe in deeply and exhale slowly. I know no better place than in God's tree filled forests with open skies that allows our soul to stretch and leave behind (if even for a moment in time), the cares that pull at us daily. My sister, Becky, could tell you how refreshing it is. Probably the reason she loved Colorado's mountains and waterfalls. And the reason she uninvited me (you read that right), and my husband from going on a trip with her and Den one year. But that's another story...

Looking for my "forest bath", as always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Change Within the White Space

Photo by Lindsey Lewis

Some days I actually get all the needed sleep, but most days I wake early. Really early. Like 3 AM early. Or 4 AM. Some days it's even in the 2 AM hour. Today it was a bit after 4, and my mind instantly formed a prayer for the day. This was the response it sent me: Change happens when in the white space. 

No, I haven't gone stir crazy just yet. Still have a working business for a few more weeks. Eight more, to be exact. My head is just swimming with navigation at the moment. To explain myself, so much is happening right now in my world. I won't bore you with details, but I will tell you that white space is a needed time for me. Time to set myself aside without obligation. It's where change actually begins. It's a time to settle, think, assess, and simply be present in life. It's a time to breathe easy. Our minds do need breaks from time to time, right? Mine does, at least. And for me, it's mostly a time to rest in God's presence, simply to wait for Him and the wisdom I feel He pours into my heart. It's what I love most about this particular season of change. Not only has Spring (new life) begun in the natural realm, but one might speculate that a type of Spring (new life) has come to the natural realm of my own life. Possibly the spiritual, as well. I'm here for what is staring me down.

Today, the nuggets of truth that God extended to me; verses I have known all my life, was brought to my attention. God knew I needed to revisit these today. 

• Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. ~Joshua 1:9 
• Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. ~Proverbs 3:5 
• I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you. ~Psalm 32:8
• There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens. ~Ecclesiastes 3:1
• Do not be anxious for anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ~Philippians 4:6
• Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. ~2 Corinthians 4:16
• The heart of the discerning acquires knowledge, for the ears of the wise seek it out. ~Proverbs 18:15

Have you ever thought about the "coincidence" of everything being connected? Like when you see something in the natural realm of living life and simultaneously see God in it?  Even the written word will come to life when attended to. Just as we ourselves come to life when our life is attended to. Physically, and spiritually. 

Now, connect the spiritual with the natural. Consider the line spaces that a paragraph gives us. Just like the one created by starting this new paragraph. They give us "white space" intended for a moment to refocus...giving us time to consider what the topic is and what it's really about and what its importance is. They also enhance readability. Right? They are meant for focusing the reader...and possibly a thought change. A redirection. Just as God redirects us in the "white space". First the natural, then the spiritual, then comes understanding.

I'll leave you with why "white space" is important in the natural AND in the spiritual:   

1) It gives us clarity while reducing visual clutter. 

2) It creates a visual hierarch, of sorts, causing us to see the most important elements. 

3) It gives us balance. Who amongst us doesn't need that?!

Did you just connect the dots between the natural and the spiritual? What I'm saying is that everything is connected by God's design...if we but look. If we but see...

Paying attention, and hoping you find your white space, here you will find me...in Mary's World. #embracingthenewnormal #embracingchange #leaningintoGod #theforgottenway

The Next 50 Years

"Why Greenhouse Gardening is Your Next Best Adventure: Greenhouse gardening is an extraordinary journey that opens up new horizons for every kind of gardener. It transforms the way we interact with plants, seasons, and even our own sense of creativity and self-sufficiency." ~Introduction to The Year-Round Greenhouse Gardening by Dr. Arnold Stones

Sounds intriguing, yes? Somehow, I feel like the next 50 years will introduce me to my momma. Somehow, I feel like I will get to know her like I never had the opportunity to do while growing up. I was only able to catch glimpses of her because my job was at the sawmill, in the log woods, at the cow barn, in the fields, but not so much in the garden.

Oh, I do remember her! I remember her laugh, her sweet spirit, her gentle way of caring for our needs, the delicious smells that came from her kitchen, the loaded boards of Christmas goodies freshly baked in her wood burning oven. Even the rationing of the occasional soda pop. She would purchase ONE small bottle for herself (a rare thing), but if one of her kids spotted it (usually me), she would pour no more than 2 sips, then save the rest for when she could really use a pick-me-up. Birthing, and raising 10 kids, I can only imagine just how much she needed this. Yet, she never refused her own. Yes, there were very special times with her, yet I missed so much of the only hours the days offered because I had to be where she wasn't.

So, now that I have officially retired from my chosen industry of the last 50+ years (come June 2nd), I have decided, with the encouragement of our girls, to allow myself to indulge in my next best adventure. I'm hoping I will get a glimpse into the world of my mom. Maybe something will stir inside me. Maybe I can be a part of who she was. Maybe I can be a part of her legacy by understanding life a bit more. Life as it was intended.

Going back to my roots (pun intended), and starting small, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Next Chapter?

Last Saturday, as a dear client and I were conversing about my upcoming retirement from the industry that has been part of my life for the last 50+ years, I may have mentioned something about this being the last chapter of my life. I do believe in miracles, but at the same time I am pretty much a realist. Truth is a solid mantra of mine. Can't tolerate deception. Anyway...much like a good book, the last chapter should have the answers to the mysteries exposed in its previous chapters. Right? At least one would hope so. It should be the most exciting, yet sorrowful that it's ending, chapter. My client for the last 6 years, as she sat while color processed on her hair, looked up at me with the kindest eyes, and said, "But it may not be the last chapter. It may just be the next chapter. The next adventure." Crazy...I had never thought of that. It took me aback for a second or two. I've always seen life in segments; First, Middle, Last. Could there be another chapter before the last? Now I'm excited!

I will miss this client! I think coffee and maybe lunch must be in our future. She is more than just a deep thinker. She is a world changer, a person that rearranges others ways of thinking to come to the best solution for the problems at hand. A problem solver. I love how she sparks my thinking; how without even realizing it, she causes me to probe deeper in my own analysis of any given situation. I really love the thought of this being only "my next chapter", and not my "last chapter."

I think I may have mentioned in another blog post, that I also have a client who says she can't wait for the return of our Lord. But my heels are a little dug in and they're asking for more years, here, on planet Earth. I have all of eternity to be with God and all the Elohim. But to see our grand-babies grow to maturity, to be a part of their lives (no matter how large or small), is the desire of my heart. So, "the next chapter" sounds really, really good. I can wrap my head around that one. And my heart...

This has been the hardest page, in my book of life, to flip. While I do love a good book, and even though my own story is full of sit-on-the-edge-of-your-seat kind of things, I'm not quite ready to end it. So, turning the page of interacting with various nationalities, various personalities, various life styles, has been excruciating for me. Each one has added value to this life's journey. 

I began considering joining the ranks of the retired a little more than a year ago. But my fists were clenched with only a small amount of give to them. I held on tightly most days, feeling if I loosened my grip I would be entering the last phase of life, and who's ready for that?! 

As the year progressed, small things began to reveal a path forward. Away from all I had known my entire life. Work has never been a dirty word to me; it has been a privilege, a blessing that not all can navigate. But, as this last year wore on, God began to show His divine intervention. This industry had always been my feel-good place. My ego stroking place. My affirmation. My purpose. My platform. My escape. There was a lot of "MY", even though I always acknowledged that it was by the grace of God that I lived, and moved, and had my being. I have always been grateful for the road He had prepared for me and couldn't imagine anything changing. I actually thought I would continue in this industry until my body could no longer tolerate it. "Retirement" just wasn't in my DNA. I love to work! Give me something to do, other than idle the hours away where the mind goes south and the body soon follows.

I'm still not 100% sure what the future holds for us, but I'm here for it! Maybe a small greenhouse in our backyard, where our grand kids used to play on the WoodPlay Swing Set and Tower that nestled under the trees and the beautiful Wisteria dropped its petals in season. Maybe that will become a reality and our littles can help seed, plant, create, and water. Wouldn't that be fun?! It's already a vision in my minds eye. I can see the layout clearly. The inviting blooms and plants that surround its base, with ferns and lights hanging from the attached pergola. Maybe some pavers joined together and strategically placed to hold a couple of chairs and a small fire pit for when the cooler temps hit North Carolina. 

And who knows...maybe a trip to the mountains will be in our future.

No matter where life takes us, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

So...the Deed Has Been Done

My emotions have ran the gammet this past week; even more so since the announcement that few saw coming. Granted, the big decision has been playing ball with me for some time now, and up until last week, I had always won. Many debates as to why I should, and why I should not, have been voiced. Lovingly voiced. Time, and time again...

And now, here I sit, stirring the mushrooms in my coffee with the cinnamon stick that sits lazily in the coffee cup until needed. I'm tired. Very tired. Not only did what I thought to be allergies/sinus issues, turn into a full blown head & chest cold, sleep also, has escaped me for nigh on a week now. I'm tired. Really tired. Yet, I force my body to come under subjection and move forward. Except for this moment. Needing a chair to take the weight of my body off my feet, at least for a moment, I chose the tried and true; the faithful office chair. I do love my office. My study. My hide-away. I do.

Still coughing up a lung and a half, I navigated the back-and-forth of STAY OUT OF MY SALON messages over the weekend. Yet, the messages just weren't taking hold, or they hit more than one wall and was took out, never to live. I'm a person that always crosses my "t's" and dot my "i's". It's the best I can do to preserve my way of life. Yet the unexpected has a way of happening, regardless of how hard one tries to escape it. And therein lies my distrust of humanity. Even my own humanity...sometimes.

To say I am super happy that I installed a Foscam (that's a story for another time) inside my studio, is an understatement of mega proportions. As I think about the ramifications of what would have happened, had it not been on duty yesterday, makes me take deep breaths of gratitude, when I can get one. A deep breath, that is. That sweet little addition caught workers hired to upgrade a few things (floors & mirrors), in the process of taking my salon apart, piece by piece. Most likely, I startled the begeebers out of them when my groggy, hoarse & raspy voice (that gurgled and sneezed occasionally from irritated nasal passages), came yelling through the small voice command center. "STOP! WHY ARE YOU IN MY ROOM?!!" I tried calming myself, as I knew it wasn't their fault. They were there to do their job as ordered, and with a tower of jewelry in their careful hands, they froze in place. It appears that I wasn't the only one who has cut the cord...if you know what I mean. It's likely you don't, 'cause I'm not always clear.

I have spoken to several of the workers, off and on, during the time they have been in the studios, tearing up and replacing. They seem really nice, so I'm kinda sorry I yelled at them. But I wasn't sure if the thing (the Foscam) really worked or not. It was the first time I had to use it. So I yelled. I was suppose to, right? They showed me their work orders, so I had to be the mean suite owner, and assure them I had covered the confirmation of putting my studio renovation on hold until I moved out, aka/closed my business, and to please contact their supervisor.

Did I mention how tired I am? Anyway...I had to push my body out the door and head to the salon, a 7 minute drive that happened in 3. Maybe 4. They had indeed stopped removing, and had gotten everything back in the studio by the time I arrived. All I had to do was reposition and re-clean what had been moved out. I survived...

So...back to paragraph ONE of this rabbit trail:

    The deed that had been planned to run so smoothly, the RETIREMENT on my 78th birthday announcement, had suddenly taken a deadly turn. 

        Not a good turn. The social media content had launched before it was suppose to since I didn't "schedule" it. My fault. Kinda. 

When I am deep in thought, 

            deep in the mix of whatever is needing done; 

                        to be distracted in the middle of it, well...I can't be held responsible for what transpires.

So, that happened last Sunday. Throbbing headache, blurry eyes, and achy body had to move quickly. Something my brain wasn't ready for. The emails had to be sent (since social media had been notified) without being as complete as I had planned. I suppose another email blast is in order for a bit later.

Something (business room mistake), I suppose, had to be added to the mix just to make this whole thing a memory hard to forget. Gotta love those memories. The good, the not-so-good, the undesirable.

I am soooooo tired of laying in bed, but now I think it's calling me again. But first, where's the Tylenol?

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World

Grief Is Personal & Individual, With No Rules or Timetables

Tuesday, March 9th, 1943, was the day my sister Becky breathed the earths atmosphere into her tiny lungs. Today would have been her 82nd birthday, had she stayed. But...on Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008 at 5:23 P.M., heaven received her back and earths atmosphere released its hold on her.

Had God intervened and said no, possibly she would still be an active part of my life today. But instead, He welcomed her home releasing her from the pain and untold suffering she was experiencing from the unimaginable effects of PSP.

Progressive Supranuclear Palsy is a rare brain disease that allows the brain to continue sending messages to the body, but confuses them before they reach their destination. She was literally trapped inside her beautiful body that had no way of obeying the commands sent to it. No way of communicating. No way of making her desires known. No way of caring for her own personal needs. And yet, she chose the way of least resistance. She willed her life to be subject to the grace of God that allowed her to get through what must of been the most horrific existence, which in turn provided her to live out what time the disease allowed, in total peace. She trusted those she loved. She trusted her God. It was God's grace that held her. God's grace that showed her the way through the hardest of mountains that denied movement. And the most depended on was her husband. She couldn't have asked for a better care giver. He gave up his own life to become hers.

It's true...he didn't experience the effects of PSP like she did. But he did experience PSP by watching his beloved suffer. While she was still able to speak, she let him know that she trusted him completely with the choices he made for her care as the disease overtook her. It must have been quite the conversation. He asked for help only a few times. Times he needed assistance while learning how to serve her every need. He shouldn't have had to ask.

And now, 17 long years have flown by, yet I miss her still. Some days are harder than others, but I'll always remember how she encouraged me to live the life God has given me. Live it as though it depends on me to make it good. "You can't change anyone but yourself," she told me. She always spoke truth, never sugar coating it. Truth, she knew, was the only way to set someone free from their (usually self imposed) prison(s). Strange, I feel her presence as I type this, tears once again demanding release from my own body.

Grief and loss have strange ways of progressing. Each individual will experience them differently as they navigate the life that is still bound to earths atmosphere. There are no rules. No timetables. Never progressing from one stage to another, easily. Nor can it be controlled. It's okay to let tears bring about healing, for they will if we but let them. I can't say we will ever be totally back to "normal", but we will gain a sense of what is truly valuable and what is not.

Becky will be with me always, even though I can't physically touch her. She was my protector, literally and spiritually. Coming from such a large family, it usually fell on the slightly older sibling to watch out for the younger. She was mine. She did her job well, even when I resisted and went against her instructions. Ready to receive me back to where she could once again watch over me. How I must of worried her...

I went through several stages of grief when she left. At first I denied this could be happening. The slow progression that took over her body. Then, I felt angry that God could be allowing this to happen. I never bargained with God, like some do. Still, depression hit me like a ton of bricks. Why her? Why not me? She seemed so innocent. So undeserving of this. Eventually I allowed myself to reason it out with God. Allowing truth to speak its peace to my heart. I still miss her, but am getting closer to seeing her again. How quickly the years fly past us, even if some days they seem to crawl out their existence.

I leave you with this: We must treat ourselves with kindness and compassion. No judgement. No what ifs. We have a right to grieve and no one (not even ourselves) can tell us when it's time to end the process of grieving. Seventeen years later, I still grieve. I still love, I still live. But some days, I just need a good cry.

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.