A Bird Adventure

Another bird kamikazied into our dining room window this morning. I heard the “whack!” and looked up to see orange feathers stuck to our window. This was not good.

feathers on window photo by scott

We usually have sun-catchers suction-cupped to our window to let the birds know there’s glass there, but our cat had swiped them all down. I went to get more suction cups for the window and then came back and looked to the ground to see if the bird had landed down there. I saw him immediately. He appeared to be on his back, and I could see he was breathing.

I went outside to check on him. When I got to him he was right-side up – maybe he always had been – and his eyes were open. He was watching me. “It’s alright, little one,” I cooed to him. “It’s okay. Hold on.” I went back inside to look for a box to nestle him in – and found my husband was one step ahead of me. He handed me a small box as I came in the door, I grabbed an old dish towel, and back I went to the little thrush.

“All you can feel is what Love feels. All you can know is what Truth knows. All you can be is the perfect reflection of God,” I told him, as I scooped him into the box and gently covered his body with the towel. He didn’t tweet or chirp or cluck or struggle against my efforts – but he kept an eye on me as I brought him around the house and set him on top of the barrel on the front porch.

little bird who flew into our window

It’s just above freezing here, and I figured the little bird must be cold – maybe in shock – and needed some warmth. As I was talking out loud to myself – trying to talk myself through what I needed to do for the bird – my husband found a small metal water bottle, filled it with hot water and handed it to me. I took it to the bird and nestled it down next to him – hoping it would keep him warm. And now I was thinking the bird would probably like to be able to see his bird buddies in the back yard, so I brought the box through the house and out to the back deck. I set the box on top of a broad shelf, brought the little thrush a bottle-cap full of water, and went back inside to get the dog to take her for a walk with me. I needed to give some prayerful thought to this situation.

As Sam-Dog and I walked around our neighborhood I thought about the bird – held him in my thoughts as an expression of God – always held safe in Her care – loved, protected, cared for.

When Sam and I got back to the house I went out to the porch to check on the bird. His eyes were bright and alert. I opened the towel and he fluttered his wings and took off! He landed on the wooden railing of our porch and looked at me for a moment. I clasped my hands together and said, “Oh! I’m so happy!” He looked at me a moment longer, then pooped, and flew off and landed on a branch on the tree outside our dining room window – where his adventure today had begun.

Life is good!

varied thrush bird this one 1

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“I remember we’ve visited here before.”

February 16th
Xander and I go to Dad’s for a quick visit. Dad is sitting in the living room when we arrive. His face lights up when he sees us. Xander gives his grandpa a hug and I kiss Dad on the top of his head and ask him how he’s doing.
Dad: Oh, I’ve been watching television all day. Sports. Football. Basketball.
Karen: Are you enjoying that?
Dad: Yeah, it’s good.
Karen: I love you, Daddy.
Dad: I love you guys, too! Thanks for stopping by.

February 17th
Dad: (Looking around at the scenery passing by him.) It’s a beautiful day for a drive!
Karen: Yes, it is! (I pat his knee.)
Dad: (Clasping my hand.) I never knew I’d have such a loving family. Beautiful daughter. Handsome sons. Wonderful wife.
Karen: We love you!
We stop at the Sister’s Espresso.
Karen: Are you hungry?
Dad: (Nodding.) Yes.
Karen: Do you want a root beer float?
Dad: Yeah.
(I go up and order Dad a root beer float and a breakfast muffin and bring it all back to the car for him.)
Dad: Thank you!

I drive us west, then north and stop at a field with trumpeter swans.
Dad: Canada geese.
Karen: Trumpeter swans.
Dad: (Nodding.) Oh, swans.
(We watch them for a while and then I meander my way to my home and pull into the driveway.)
Dad: (Smiling.) I remember when Scotty first saw this property. He said he was going to own this land and build a home on it. And he did.
Karen: Yes! (I go in to fetch Scott and bring him out for a quick visit with Dad.)
Scott: Hi, Dee!
(Dad and Scott share a manly handshake.)
Dad: Hi, Scott!
(Dad and Scott have a quick conversation about guy stuff and then I pull back out of the driveway and we continue on our drive.)
Karen: (Pointing to the piles of snow on the side of my street.) We got a lot of snow!
Dad: (Nodding.) Yeah!

I drive us through Edison, over the slough, and down country roads framed in red blueberry bushes and snow and crowned by Mount Baker in the background.
Dad: The clouds are starting to lift off Baker now.
Karen: Yes, they are!
Dad: We climbed Mount Baker together, didn’t we? With Scott?
Karen: Yes, we did!
(At some point we pass the Sister’s Espresso again…)
Dad: Oh! That’s the store where we go…
Karen: Yup!

I pull my car next to the front door of Dad’s place.
Dad: I remember we’ve visited here before.
Karen: Yes.
(I help Dad out of the car and into the house. He goes to his recliner in the living room.)
Karen: Thank you for the drive today, Daddy. I love you.
Dad: Thank you for the drive! I love you.

 

Immortal Memory

“You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments that stand out, the moments when you have really lived, are the moments when you have done things in a spirit of love. As memory scans the past, above and beyond all the transitory pleasures of life, there leap forward those supreme hours when you have been enabled to do unnoticed kindnesses to those round about you, things too trifling to speak about, but which you feel have entered into your eternal life. I have seen almost all the beautiful things God has made; I have enjoyed almost every pleasure that He has planned for man; and yet as I look back I see standing out above all the life that has gone four or five short experiences, when the love of God reflected itself in some poor imitation, some small act of love of mine, and these seem to be the things which alone of all one’s life abide.”
Henry Drummond, The Greatest Thing in the World

Whoah. There’s this story in the February National Geographic (Memories Can Be Altered in Mice. Are Humans next?) that has given me some pause for thought. Apparently neuroscientists have found a way to alter memories in mice – to get rid of old mice memories and create new mice memories. And… yikes?

I will not deny there are some memories that bring me pain. And, frankly, there are a LOT of memories that bring me embarrassment. And a few times I’ve caught myself wishing those memories could just go away. But those memories – the painful ones and the embarrassing ones, too – have taught me things that were important for me to learn. Those memories have helped guide the choices and decisions I make during the course of a day. How could I lose those memories and still keep the wisdom they brought?

There have been a few movies that have been built around the notion of memories being altered – Total Recall, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Manchurian Candidate. But those were just fiction. Until now I’ve always been confident that – if I lost everything else – I’d always have my memories of loved ones and good times to help me get through the dark periods in life. As Fred Astaire sang to Ginger Rogers, I’ve always thought, “They can’t take that away from me.”

But the article in National Geographic is nudging me to go deeper in my thinking about memories and memory loss. It’s nudged me to not be so cavalier about my memories, and to ponder the nature of memories and our identity. Are our memories what give us our identity? Would we have different identities without memories? What would the world be like if no one HAD a memory?

As the daughter of a 100 year-old father who has been diagnosed with some memory problems, I’ve sometimes felt the need to give prayerful thought to the notion of memory loss. One passage that has been helpful to me can be found  in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. The author of Science and Health, Mary Baker Eddy, writes: “If delusion says, ‘I have lost my memory,’ contradict it. No faculty of Mind is lost. In Science, all being is eternal, spiritual, perfect, harmonious in every action. Let the perfect model be present in your thoughts instead of its demoralized opposite. This spiritualization of thought lets in the light, and brings the divine Mind, Life not death, into your consciousness.”

That passage can be found under the heading Immortal Memory. Which leads me to ponder this: Is there a difference between immortal memory and mortal memory? And, if so, what is it…?

I guess a mortal memory would be a memory that can die? And “immortal memory” is memory that’s eternal?

In his book, The Greatest Thing in the World, Henry Drummond (a popular progressive Scottish minister of the 18th century) shares some of his thoughts on the things that are eternal, and the things that aren’t.

In I Corinthians 13 Paul writes,”Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away…”

In response to this Biblical passage, Drummond writes: “Can you tell me anything that is going to last? Many things Paul did not condescend to name. He did not mention money, fortune, fame; but he picked out the great things of his time, the things the best men thought had something in them, and brushed them peremptorily aside. Paul had no charge against these things in themselves. All he said about them was that they would not last. They were great things, but not supreme things. There were things beyond them. What we are stretches past what we do, beyond what we possess. Many things that men denounce as sins are not sins; but they are temporary. And that is a favorite argument of the New Testament. John says of the world, not that it is wrong, but simply that it ‘passeth away.’ There is a great deal in the world that is delightful and beautiful; there is a great deal in it that is great and engrossing; but IT WILL NOT LAST.”

Drummond goes on to write, “The immortal soul must give itself to something that is immortal. And the only immortal things are these: ‘Now abideth faith, hope, love, but the greatest of these is love.'”

So here’s what I’m thinking: The mortal memory may fade or be altered, but the love behind the memory – the love that went into making the memory – that stays. That’s an immortal memory.

Dad’s mortal memory isn’t as good as maybe it once was – but the immortal memory – the memory that holds Love – that’s still there. And I’m thinking that if I were to lose all my “mortal memories” – no one can take away the Love that was expressed in them and behind them and the foundation for them. You can’t take THAT away from me. (Imagine Fred Astaire singing here…) No, no, you can’t take that away from me.

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“I have to finish my avocado first.”

Karen: You’re going to your doctor’s appointment now.
Dad: I have to finish my avocado first.
Karen: (Laughing.) No, we have to leave now to get you to your appointment.
Dad: Oh. Okay.
(Scott and I help Dad down the stairs and into the car.)
Karen: (Wanting to make sure Dad understands where we’re going.) We’re going to your eye doctor now.
Dad: Oh. I didn’t know anything about this. (Re-thinking that.) I guess I forgot about it.

As we drive to the doctor’s office Scott points out the snow to Dad and Dad turns his head to look out the window at it. We get to the clinic and help Dad out of the car and into the reception area. A lot of patients have, apparently, cancelled because of the snow – the waiting room is empty. Dad is immediately ushered into the exam room.
Karen: Do you recognize this place?
Dad: (Nodding.) Yeah.
(I relay the technician’s requests into Dad’s ear…)
Karen: You need to uncross your legs. She’s going to take your blood pressure. Good. Your blood pressure is 110 over 87. That’s really good!
Dad: (Nodding.) Yeah.
Karen: (The technician points a beam of light into Dad’s bad eye.) Do you see the light?
Dad: (Shaking his head.) No.
(Dad reads the eye chart now with his good eye and does really well – he adds two whole lines to what he did last time! The technician asks Dad to look straight ahead so she can touch his eye with a pen-thingy that measures the pressure in his eyes. The big letter “B” is still showing on the eye chart and Dad thinks the technician is trying to get him to read that…)
Dad: B. B. B. (Starting to crack up. Grinning and shaking his head at me.) B. B.
Technician: Good!

We help Dad into the room where he’s going to have his eyes photographed. He remembers this room and immediately puts his chin in the chin cup so the eyeball-photographer can take pictures. Then it’s up and into the final room where we’ll meet with Dr. Saperstein. Dr. Saperstein comes in…
Dr. Saperstein: (Smiling.) Knowing you guys, I figured you’d make it in today.
Karen to Dad: (Laughing.) Dad, Dr. Saperstein is a mountain climber, too.
Dad: He is? (Smiling. He looks at Dr. Saperstein like he’s just met a new friend. He and Dr. Saperstein shake hands.)
Dr. Saperstein to me: Thank you for your book! I enjoyed it!
Karen: Did you read the parts about you?
Dr. Saperstein: (Laughing.) I did!
(Dr. Saperstein looks at the photographs of Dad’s eyes, and the chart. He tells me that Dad’s good eye looks really good – Dad is doing really well. He says we shouldn’t have to come in for another eight weeks – that Dad should be fine for that length of time. We shake hands and I thank him for helping Dad with his eyesight.)

We help Dad back in the car and head back to his home. Amanda meets us at the top of the stairs and helps Dad into the kitchen – from here he can go into the living room to watch some television, or back to his own room for a nap, or… Dad heads for the dining room table.)
Karen: (Guessing what’s on Dad’s mind.) Do you want to finish your avocado now?
Dad: (Nodding.) Yeah.
(Dad’s avocado is placed in front of him. He’s going to pick up where he left off before we interrupted him.)
Karen: (Laughing.) I love you, Daddy.
Dad: I love you, Karen.

New Review!

I got a new review on Goodreads for Are You Taking Me Home Now?: Adventures with Dad and I just have to share – this one meant a lot to me:

Nikki writes: “Once again, Ms. Terrell takes the reader on a journey through her life. The glimpses and stories of what it is like taking care of the people who raised you are stories that bring hope, a few tears, and a whole lot of love. Through reading Ms. Terrell’s adventures with her 100 year old father, we see the love they have for each other, and the strength this season of life requires.The book offers hope, humor, love, compassion, tenderness and family.”

adventures with dad book cover

Latest book!

Karen’s Big Adventure in the Snow

The husband was worried about me. “It’s cold out there!” he said. “It’s 18 degrees out. Do you need a scarf? Bring your cellphone in case you get in trouble. How about I just drive you to the post office.”

“But,” I told him, “I want to walk to the post office. I need an adventure.” And he knew that was true.

So I bundled myself up – hat, wool sweater, thick socks, snow boots, gloves – put my backpack on and my camera around my neck and set out on my Big Adventure.

What I soon realized was that it wasn’t cold at all. 🙂

And I had a wonderful adventure – I saw eagles, a heron, a hawk, and a red barn in a field of snow. Mike and Lalia from Bow Hill Blueberries made a little snowman (with eyes and smile of blueberries) for the picket fence in front of their store, and the clerk inside ladled me out a sample of hot blueberry cider. On the way back from the post office I stopped off at Samish Bay Cheese Factory and brought home a slice of very fine cheesecake…

Life is good.