I step out of the door for a walk
around the block
and am instantly surrounded in the magic
of a spring evening in the ‘hood –
immersed in birsong and frogsong
and the fragrance of spring flowers
as the cool air embraces them
and in the sky a star twinkles at me
connecting me to the divine –
to a cosmos bigger than my problems,
enveloping me in Its peace and joy
I am a part of something amazing
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
On this day six years ago – and it was a Monday then, too – my mom was brought by ambulance to our home to begin hospice. We weren’t sure how much time we had left with Mom. I wasn’t sure how we were going to make this work – Scott and I were still working full-time then and we planned on taking turns caring for Mom, but we hadn’t, exactly, figured out when we were going to sleep. We just threw ourselves into this and trusted that it would all work out. We didn’t want Mom to be brought from the hospital to an institution where she’d be surrounded by strangers. We wanted her here with us. It felt right.
Mom and I spent the day telling each other how much we loved each other. At one point she became very tired – too tired to talk – but I was greedy and asked her, once again, if she loved me. Her eyes fastened on me and the look she gave me was pure love- I still see that look in her eyes at times when I need to remember her love.
I went to bed at 9:00 to sleep for a few hours while Scott took the first shift. I’d just fallen asleep when Scott came up to the bedroom to tell me that Mom wanted to talk to me.
I came downstairs and saw Mom sitting up from the hospital bed with a grin on her face. She looked all excited, like she was going to a party or something. I explained to her that I was going to sleep for a little bit, but that I’d come down to be with her at midnight. I told her she wasn’t going to be alone. One of us was going to be with her all the time. She grinned and said, “Okay!”
When I came down at midnight, Moz was sleeping. I gave her some medication when I first came down and some more an hour and half later. I stretched out on the couch next to Mom’s hospital bed to rest a little. About 3:00 in the morning I had this beautiful dream of green fields and rolling hills and butterflies – my dream was full of joy. And I felt something brush by me – touch me – and I felt love and peace as this presence brushed by me.
I woke up then. Mom wasn’t struggling to breathe and I thought, “Oh, I don’t need to give her any medication.” I started to go back to sleep and then… I realized. I got up and felt her and she was starting to feel cool. I went upstairs and got Scott and told him I thought Moz had passed. But I wasn’t sure. There’s such a thin veil between this life and whatever comes after. Scott came down and felt her pulse and told me, “Moz is gone, Sweetie.”
We called hospice, and a nurse came out and talked us through what happened next. I’ll be forever grateful to Hospice of the Northwest for their help through this process.
Moz’s passing was one of the most holy and beautiful things I’ve ever experienced. I’m so grateful that we brought her into our home that last day.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
(Pictured below: Mom and Einstein.)
inside the twirling house
in Wizard of Oz
tilting and spinning around in circles
without a pause
scared and alone in the dark
the walls and floorboards
creaking and popping
and then suddenly
I’m bopping and hopping
to Alison Krauss’s rendition
of “I Will” in an irredescent bubble
of joy and peace
floating above the troubled rubble
until it gets smaller and smaller
and disappears into the nothing it is
and I see all there is,
or ever has been, is Love,
and nothing can stop the joy
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
Others talk of an admonishing god –
a lecturing god,
an angry and exasperated god –
a strict father who gives eternal
time-outs to his children in hell.
But I have the God I need –
Father and Mother,
smiling on me
laughing with me
protecting and guiding me
through Life’s playground,
taking my hands and swinging
me and spinning me
over the bumps until I’m
laughing so hard with
my Father-Mother-Friend
that I have tears on my face.
Yeah. That’s my God.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
(Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)
I want to hibernate – just go to sleep
until we’re all together again –
only be awake for those moments
when you’re all near.
Maybe I can function while I sleep –
look like I’m awake and appear
to do all the things that society
requires of me – until your return.
Or…
Alternatively, I could fill those waiting
moments with love and joy –
I might as well, right?
And then when we all meet again
one day around the family table
I’ll have something valuable
to share – I’ll be ready and able.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
In the middle of it
I have to trust
as the darkness builds
around me
and I feel the loss
this will pass
the sun will rise again
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
I’m praying, but I can’t seem to find God
in my thoughts. I can’t hear Her voice.
It’s 3:00 in the morning when I head
downstairs to read. I sit on the couch
and pull a blanket around me and open
my book. Timid black cat jumps onto
the couch and slowly moves closer to me
until I pull him next to me and he lays
down, belly-up, trusting me, expecting
kindness, and his trust fills me with joy.
And I realize that this is God talking to me.
I pet his belly and click on Facebook’s
messenger on my phone and see
new messages waiting for me.
I open them and find words of love
and comfort and caring and connection
in the voices of my friends.
And I know that this is God talking to me.
The night is still, but I can feel it gently
pulsing with Life and Love. And I am
enveloped in the joy of be-ing.
This is God talking to me.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
I woke up to find out that someone(s) had attempted to steal from me – long story involving trickery and someone posing as me in an email. Anyway. At first I was freaked out by this. But then this weird thing happened. I felt this kind of detached calm about it all. I took the steps I needed to take to to try to fix the problem, and then got in my car and drove up to Bellingham for a nice walk on the boardwalk. The sky still had pink in it when I got up there. There were goldeneye ducks and seagulls and cool patterns in the bay. Everyone I passed gave me a friendly smile for a smile. It was lovely.
I stopped at the Colophon and as soon as I walked in the hostess/server asked me if I’d like my favorite peach Arnold Palmer drink – she recognized me! And then she led me back to my favorite seat in the corner. I ordered some avocado toast and sipped my peach tea and just soaked up the happy vibes.
It came to me that I was in control of how I was going to feel. The person who had attempted to steal from me wasn’t the boss of me, and had no say in how I was going to feel about my day.
The server gave me another peach tea to take with me when I left, and I left a big tip in appreciation for the friendly kindness I’d felt at the restaurant – a reminder of all the good folks in the world with me.
Shakespeare wrote: “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” And I saw how true that was today. I could choose to be all ruffled and affronted at the way my morning had started. Or I could choose to find joy for myself.
Life isn’t “out to get me.” Life is good.
(Photo below is of a goldeneye duck on Bellingham Bay this morning. Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)
It’s 3:00 in the morning when I awake
to find it arrived while I slept!
Christmas has landed in my heart!
I slip out of the bedroom
and go downstairs and the cats
greet me in the hall.
I think they feel it, too.
I plug in the Christmas lights
above the mantel and settle
into my chair near the woodstove.
Black cat rubs his head against my hand.
Calico cat jumps up in the chair
next to mine and tucks her paws
underneath her and closes her eyes –
we are enjoying each other’s company.
The Christmas lights sparkle off
the smooth surfaces around me.
I sing “Silent Night” to the cats
and they turn to me and listen.
Magic is here! Incredible good beyond
imagining is here and more on its way!
Peace! Joy! Love! Hope!
It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
I just had a wonderful drive with Alison Krauss. Well, okay, Alison Krauss wasn’t actually in the car with me. But her voice was. And it was lovely.
I was driving home, after a visit with my parents, and just as I got to Seattle big, fluffy snowflakes started floating down around me. It was like being inside one of those glass bubbles that has “snow” trapped inside it. It was dark, and the snow made it even more difficult to see, but I was suddenly filled with such a sense of peace and joy, that driving felt more like a celebration than a hazard. I’d put an Alison Krauss CD in my car’s CD-player, and, as the snow started falling, her delightful riff leading into the Beatles I Will filled my car with a playfulness and a joy that was almost tangible. I realized that the cars around me were moving in complete harmony with me and with the song – it was like we were all doing a happy dance together – perfectly-timed and choreographed.
“Who knows how long I’ve loved you? You know I love you still…” I’d always thought those words and that song were romantic – it was a song I’d sung at least once at a wedding. But now I found those words and that song taking on a different meaning for me. My mom’s sweet, smiling face came into focus in my thoughts and I held her there for a moment – just completely filled with the joy of the love we share for each other. Then my dad came through my thoughts, and I mentally hugged him; then my husband, my sons, my co-workers, my bosses, my neighbors, my friends – even those with whom I’d had conflict – one-by-one passed through my thoughts. And as each new face appeared I mentally wrapped love and joy around my thoughts of that person. The playful, irrepressible joy of that song, and Krauss’s performance of it, simply could not be overthrown or trampled down. Anger and frustration had no choice but to melt away before the happy onslaught of banjos and love.
It was a transforming experience for me, and when the snow finally stopped falling and the song had ended, I felt like I’d just been privileged to be a part of something magical and wondrous. The feeling of joy still lingers.
Later I thought some more about the song and its words:
“Who knows how long I’ve loved you
You know I love you still
Will I wait a lonely lifetime?
If you want me to, I will.
I love you forever and forever
Love you with all my heart
Love you whenever we’re together
Love you when we’re apart.
And when at last I find you
Your song will fill the air
Sing it loud so I can hear you
Make it easy to be near you
For the things you do, endear you to me
Oh, you know I will, I will”
And it occurred to me that God, Love itself, could sing those words to you and me. How long has God loved us? Forever and ever and for always. She loves us when we’re near Her in our thoughts, and She loves us when we’re not. She loves us when we know Her, and She loves us when we don’t. And we are dear and precious to Her. “I will, I will,” are our Father-Mother God’s words and promise to us. Unconditional, unfailing love is ours to give, and ours to receive.
(Originally posted February, 2012 and now a part of *The Madcap Christian Scientist’s Middle Book*.)
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 