As Long As You Can Love…
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Category Archives: inspiration
Smile Experiment
“And Love is reflected in love…”
– Mary Baker Eddy
I’ve been wanting to share this experience, but I haven’t been sure how to go about it without looking like I am full of myself or something. So maybe I should start this post in this way: I am nothing special to look at – I am a stubby middle-aged woman, generally seen in schleppy clothes and walking shoes when I’m out running errands. I might have been called “pretty” when I was younger – but these days I look more like Cinderella’s fairy godmother than Cinderella. And I’m cool with that.
So a few months ago, on my lunch break at work, I put on my old walking shoes and ambled down into town in quest of something to eat. I don’t remember now what I was thinking about as I was walking, but it must have been something happy because I, apparently, had a smile on my face. A young man, approaching from the other direction, said he’d seen the smile on my face from a block away. He said he’d felt himself pulled to me so he could wish me a good day and let me know that my smile had put him in a good mood.
Isn’t that neat? 🙂
I thought of that experience again last week when I was grocery-shopping at the local supermarket. I was in a funk when I began my shopping. I no longer recall what had put me in this funk, but I remember feeling really tired and cranky. Coincidentally, everyone else I encountered seemed to be feeling less than jolly, too. As I rounded an aisle I saw a woman whose face looked particularly drawn and tired. My heart went out to her and I found myself summoning a smile for her. As soon as she saw my smile, she returned a dazzling one back to me. I could see the lines on her face literally lifting in front of my eyes. I felt the lines on my own face lifting, too.
I still had the smile on my face when a man turned his cart into my aisle and glanced my direction. And now HIS face turned up into a friendly grin. I decided to keep the smile on my face as I continued with my shopping – sort of conducting an informal experiment. And, sure enough, just as I had predicted would happen, every single person I encountered whilst wearing my smile, smiled back at me in a friendly, cheerful way. It was like magic.
I think people WANT to be nice to each other, you know. I think they’re looking for an opportunity to smile at other people and be kind to them – even stubby, middle-aged ladies.
But I should probably do a lot more smile experimentation to make sure my hypothesis is correct, right? 🙂
“Happiness is spiritual, born of Truth and Love. It is unselfish; therefore it cannot exist alone, but requires all mankind to share it.”
– Mary Baker Eddy
Groucho Karen
Finding Agreeable Things
Serendipity: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for…
– Merriam-Webster
I love when serendipity happens.
Last week there was a luncheon in Tacoma to honor folks who have been members of the Mountaineers for more than 25 years. Dad has been a member of the Mountaineers for more than 70 years and we thought it would be cool if he could attend this event. But Tacoma is two hours to the south of us and Dad no longer drives – so Scott took the day off, and he and I escorted Dad to the luncheon.
Mom wanted to come, too, but decided it would be too difficult to make the journey right now. I was concerned about leaving her alone, but she assured me she’d be fine – she had plans to go for a walk with one of her friends and then she planned on spending a quiet day with the cats.
Mom got Dad all polished and ready to go and the two of them were waiting for us outside their retirement home when we arrived. We loaded Dad and his walker into the car and off we went on our grand adventure, waving good bye to Mom as she stood on the sidewalk, blowing us kisses.
***
A film-maker named Nils contacted me a couple weeks ago to tell me he was making a documentary on Mount Rainier, and wondering if he could somehow include a clip of Dad in the documentary. I suggested to him that he meet us at the Mountaineer clubhouse before the luncheon, and get a clip of Dad then, and he thought this was a fine idea. When we arrived at the clubhouse Nils was there with his cameraman, Eric, and they’d already talked to the other Mountaineers members and had invited them to be included in the clip with Dad. It was great! There was Dad – front and center – surrounded by friends he’s known for decades, hugging and shaking hands and re-connecting. And yodeling. All captured on camera for future generations.
***
When we got into the clubhouse I turned around and there was our friend, Perky – a woman we’d climbed Rainier with 40 years ago – standing in front of me with a big grin on her face. Perky had wanted to come to Dad’s 98th birthday party the Saturday before, but hadn’t been able to make it. But today – in a city two hours to the south of where the party had been – Perky happened to glance over at the Mountaineers clubhouse while she was driving through town, and saw me standing on the sidewalk! Perky said she’d been planning to leave earlier for her drive, but something had delayed her – and now she realized she’d been MEANT to leave her home and pass in front of the Mountaineers clubhouse at the exact moment she did.
I love when serendipity happens.
***
It was nice meeting Dad’s old chums. There was Helen – who’d been a member of the Mountaineers for 60-some years. Helen asked about Mom and told me to give Mom her love. There was Geoff, the president of the Mountaineers – who told me to give Mom a hug and said Mom is one of the sweetest, most even-tempered people he’s ever met. There was Mary – who gave Dad a big hug, and told me she loves Mom and wants to come up and visit her soon.
By this time I’d come to realize Mom is as much a part of the Mountaineers as Dad is – and that her presence is hugely missed when she’s not there.
***
Sitting at our table was another gentleman who looked like he might be about Dad’s age. Dad and he got into conversation about their birth years. “I was born in September, 1918,” Worth Gurley told Pop. Pop’s eyes crinkled up in delight at finding another chap of the same vintage – and he told Worth he was born in 1918, too! Dad told Worth that he’d been born in Los Angeles, and Worth, as it turns out, had also been born in Los Angeles! Soon the two were involved in lively conversation with each other, proving that it is never too late to make a new friend.
I looked around and found the woman who had brought Worth to the luncheon. I asked if she was Worth’s daughter, and she affirmed she was. Heather and I both turned to watch our dads conversing with each other – their hands cupping their ears to hear each other better – and smiled at the enjoyment we could see on their faces. Heather and I exchanged some of the details of our lives. It turns out she lives in Bellingham – only 20 minutes to the north of where I live! (Have I mentioned that I love when serendipity happens?) She said she has routinely been making the trek to Tacoma to help her father – just as I did until my parents moved up near me a couple months ago. Heather and I exchanged email addresses, with hopes that we’ll be able to get together for a walk on the Bellingham boardwalk with our dads someday soon.
We all had a wonderful time at the luncheon.
***
When we got back to Mom and Dad’s retirement place I let Mom know about all the well wishes and hugs that had been sent her way, and she smiled up at me and nodded her head. I asked her how her day had been. She said she’d been feeling lonely for Dad, but then she turned on the television and there was a movie with one of their favorite actors – Nelson Eddy! (I love when serendipity happens.) That movie cheered her all up. “Nelson Eddy was fighting for workers’ rights in this movie – he put out a newspaper called The Wasp which showed all the corruption that was going on – and they (the bad guys) were trying to find out who was putting out this paper!” she said, all excited. “And he sang! He has such a beautiful voice!”
I asked if the good guys had won in this movie, and she said, “Of course!”
And that’s the thing, you know: We would appear to be living, right now, in troubling times – there’s corruption in politics and business; there are threats to our safety and well-being; there seem to be a lot of “bad guys” out to get us. But there is nothing we aren’t experiencing right now that my parents haven’t already experienced before in some form – they’ve seen it all. They’ve also lived long enough and seen enough to know that there’s always hope. They’ve lived long enough to see good win, in the end. They’ve lived long enough to experience a lot of serendipity in their lives.
Through many years my parents have developed the “faculty of finding… valuable or agreeable things not sought for.” Perhaps that is why they have lived such long and full lives. They are open to whatever good comes their way, and they recognize it when they see it. They appreciate all the simple, beautiful, joyous moments that have filled their lives, and know how to be grateful for them.
When you look at Life in that way – expecting to find “valuable or agreeable things” every moment – every day is a treasure-packed adventure, isn’t it?
Dee Molenaar and his friends from the Tacoma Mountaineers.
Helen and Dad
Dad and Perky
Serendipity on the Fourth of July
‘You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4th, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism.’
~Erma Bombeck
We parked near the wood-carving lot when we got to Sedro-Woolley for the Fourth of July footrace. I wandered through the lot, looking at the art, and when I came out the other side of the lot I was facing the Woolley Market. I’d never been in there before, but I hadn’t had breakfast, yet, and this seemed like a good time to check it out and try to rustle myself up something to eat.
When I walked in I glanced up at the wall and saw one of Dad’s paintings hanging in there! Then I knew I was in the place that a former colleague had been telling me about – I could smell mountain climbing gear and clothing in there (I’m thinking my fellow mountain people will understand what I mean by that). Above Dad’s painting, I could see a loft of some kind. I went up there to investigate and found three or four folks getting ready for a climb of Mount Baker. I managed to track down Craig, the man who runs the guiding operation out of the loft, and… long story a little shorter – it turns out Craig and my dad are old friends! Craig hails from Gig Harbor – near where my parents USED to live – but now they both live in Skagit County – about two and half hours to the north. Craig has been in Skagit County awhile, but Dad and Mom just moved here two months ago. I told Craig that I thought my Dad would really like to see him, and I’d try to bring him over before the day was out.
Later, when I asked Dad (who just turned 98) if he remembered Craig, his whole face lit up. Yes, he said, he would really like to see Craig again.
And so he did.
It was an AWESOME Fourth of July.
Sedro-Woolley
The Woolley Market
Dad’s painting on the wall
Dad Turns 98 Today!
Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you. Be afraid of nothing. There is so little time that your youth will last – such a little time.
– Richard Halliburton
God expresses in man the infinite idea forever developing itself, broadening and rising higher and higher from a boundless basis.
– Mary Baker Eddy
Dad turns 98 today. A couple months ago he thought he’d be turning 100 today. A month ago he thought he’d be turning 97. We finally got it all sorted out when I reminded him that he was born in 1918 and that it is now 2016. I saw him do the calculations in his head. A few minutes later we were sitting at the dining room table with my mom and husband, when Dad announced, kind of shocked, “I’m going to be 98 in a month! I never thought I’d make it to 98.” Later he told me that 98 sounds a lot older than 100. Apparently he just skipped over 98 and 99 and went right from 97 to 100 when he’d been trying to figure out his age.
Think about this: When Dad was born women didn’t have the right to vote, yet. Radios, telephones, and cars had just been invented. There were no CDs, televisions, cellphones, or computers. There was no internet. There was no Google. There was no Wikipedia. To find information people often went to the library and did research in these things called books – and sometimes the research might take days or even weeks! (Today if you want to find out more about Dad, all you’ve got to do is go to his Wikipedia page – et voila! There he is!)
People also read those things called books just for fun. The book that Dad has said most influenced him was a book called The Rolling Road to Romance by an adventurer named Richard Halliburton. Halliburton exonerated his readers to “Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you. Be afraid of nothing. There is so little time that your youth will last – such a little time.”
Dad took those words to heart.
Dad was born at the end of World War I. He survived The Great Depression with his family, served in World War II, has climbed on the highest mountains on earth, went to the South Pole, and close to the North Pole, has been on six of the seven continents, has moved easily among world leaders, and traveled the world with a close group of fellow adventurers and explorers. At various times he’s worked as a photographer, cartographer, geologist, hydrologist, artist, mountain guide, ski instructor, and author. He’s moved through life with no sense of limitation about what he might accomplish or where he might go or who he might meet, and that – what I guess some might call “naïve” – sense of freedom has served him well in his life.
And today he turns 98. He’s still engaged in his life – still enjoys exploring the nooks and crannies of Life’s highways and by-ways. He continues to live “the wonderful life” that is in him.
Dee Molenaar
Happy Father’s Day!
I’m sitting here on Father’s Day Eve, filled with gratitude for the fathers in my life. I’m grateful for my own father – who encouraged me to learn and create and travel and be brave and push my body to climb mountains – and set an example with his own life. I’m grateful to my sons’ father – my husband – my partner in parenting – the sons’ coach, teacher, mentor, protector.
My first memory features Dad. I was two years-old. I took one step too many in the local swimming hole and went in over my head. I remember trying to walk back up to the shore, but my feet wouldn’t move me forward. I opened my mouth to scream, but I was under water and no sound came out. A minute more and I might not be here. But Dad had seen me go under, and came out to get me. He yanked me out of the water by my pony tails and brought me back safely to terra firma.
My husband performed a similar act of heroism with our eldest son. We were visiting a friend who had a swimming pool that she’d turned into a koi pond. One minute our three year-old was standing at the edge of the pool, the next minute we heard a splash and he was gone. The pool was murky and deep, but my husband was quick thinking, and reached straight down into the pond, found our son, and yanked him out of there. He is my hero.
A happy Father’s Day to all the heroes out there who protect, and provide for, and cultivate the good in, their children. You rock!
Photo of husband and sons. Lincoln City, OR. Circa 1995.
Half-Staff Flag
The flag is at half-staff again
or still.
I can’t remember the last time
I saw it waving from the top
of the pole.
Days? Weeks? Months? Years?
Someday it will rise again,
someday when we put our fears
to rest, and begin
to trust each other once more,
put down our weapons of words
and steel, and pour healing
love into our nation’s wounds.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
Making the World a Better Place
About once a week I walk into town to buy a hummus roasted veggie sandwich and to see my friend, Frank, who works at the sandwich place. Frank is gay. We’ve never talked about his gayness or my not-gayness or anyone’s whatever-ness in conversation – I mean – it’s not like people usually approach a new friend, shake hands, and introduce themselves by their labels – “Hi, I’m Karen and I’m a progressive bleeding heart liberal heterosexual female Christian Scientist of mostly European ancestry (although there might be some Basque Reptile alien in there, too) – and how about you? What are your labels?” – but, yeah, Frank is gay.
This week when Frank asked me how I was, I gave the usual, “I’m good. And how about you?” And he gave the usual, “I’m good.” But this time something made me stop and really look at Frank. And I asked, “Frank, how are you really?” Frank said it had been a rough week.
He said he’d been in a bar earlier in the week, and he’d heard people at the next table over saying – in deliberately loud voices so Frank could hear – “Yeah. Those people in Florida deserved it.” Frank had tried to remain civil to them – he and the bar-tender had had their own conversation – loud enough to be heard – about the terribleness of the tragedy. And the people at the next table spewed out some more hatred. And Frank wondered about them: Hadn’t they ever been targeted for being different in some way? Didn’t they know what that felt like?
I started tearing up. “Frank, where does that hate come from? I don’t understand it.” Frank shook his head sadly, and said he thought it came from ignorance – from people being afraid of what they don’t know. He said he leaves those people in the hands of the Lord – and he didn’t mean that in a vengeful way – but in a “God will help them” way.
I told Frank that I was with him. I told him that he wasn’t alone. And he thanked me and gave me a hug.
Later on I was thinking about what Frank had said – his wondering if those people had ever been targeted for being different – and it made me remember a time, years ago, when I’d been watching a local “town meeting” on television and I’d heard someone say that “All Christian Scientists should be lined up against a wall and shot.” It had been strange and disturbing to hear someone who didn’t know me wish me dead. It stuck with me. I learned something from that.
Anyone could become a target – hatred is a form of insanity, really, and it doesn’t have to make sense – maybe tomorrow it will be stubby people, or extra tall people, or people with green eyes, or left-handed people, who will become the targets.
I think when we take the time to get to know each other – to try to understand each other without judgment or condemnation – to listen to each other – when we take the time to get rid of our own ignorance – we are doing a lot to make the world a better place. It’s been said so many times, but I think it’s true: Love really IS the answer.
Peace
Earlier this week – at the end of a long, dark day – I looked out the window and saw this – a blessing, a promise, a symbol of diversity, a symbol of peace and hope. I really needed this right then…
The Best Prayer of All
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Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 