Thursday, April 7, 2016

Faith, Hope and Love...she taught us all of those things

In January our family lost this beautiful woman.  We still have a gaping hole in our hearts and our family. And we aren't anywhere near close to being through the grief of it.  My Uncle Tim and cousins, Jaime and Jen, especially have a such an empty space in their hearts.


Last week we gathered to celebrate her.  

Here's what I shared on behalf of the Spann family.

While I stand up here by myself, I am actually up here to share what the Spanns collectively have shared, written, reflected upon and reminisced about Mar.

Uncle Tim, if there’s one thing you’ve been insistent about, it’s that today is a happy day.  
With that in mind, I’m channeling my deepest Spann roots to make sure I deliver.

I’m going to start by telling all of you about my last BM…..hey!  It wouldn’t be a Spann story without a good BM!  

Can’t you hear her Marilee now…..Hol-LY!

Ok, so back to my BM.

When I was about six years old, I was helping our grandma wash dishes, while Poppy was sitting at the table reading the newspaper.  I remember Grandma and Poppy talking about various things which didn’t seem too important to my six year old ears.  But then, I heard something that seemed VERY important.  
Grandma said to Poppy, “Well Tim’s on his way over.  He said he has something to tell us.”  I perked up.  
Then the next thing she said I will always remember.  
“Hursh, I sure hope he’s coming to tell us he and Marilee are getting married.”  
Well, I sure hoped so too!  I remember being SO excited.  I immediately began calculating what that meant for my sisters, Jaime and me.  While grandma and poppy were probably relieved to finally have someone to help tame Tim.  

For us, it meant we got Jennifer!  

And that’s the story of my last BM….before Mar.    

From that point forward, Mar has been a Spann.  And if she were here she could tell us a lot of stories of what she learned from being a Spann.  Some of which would definitely not be appropriate in a church setting.  

As I tried to organize my own thoughts and the thoughts other members of our family, I was struggling to put it all together in a way that made sense.  

Everything seemed scattered and fragmented…which, of course, is exactly how I have found grief to show up in our lives.  Thoughts and actions become scattered and fragmented and slippery.
But I’ve come to believe that is really God’s way of protecting us from the enormity of our own reality.  
Brought together the clarity and utter truth we find ourselves in might be more than we can bear.  And so, for a time, this stumbling and numbness is a little bit of God’s own protective hand.  

I kept reading and re-reading what everyone had sent me and trying to re-organize my thoughts.  It seemed the more I tried to force some semblance, the less organized and more messy things became.  
Finally, out an act of desperation and near panic that I wouldn’t have anything put together in time, I decided to take Mar’s approach to eating to figure this thing out.

Mar had it down to a science.  Anticipate the meal.  Assess the plate.  Don’t rush it.  Carefully put together each forkful. Construct the perfect bite.  Slowly load the fork.  And then.   One.  Bite.  At.  A.   time.  Each forkful a new little project.  Savor every bite.  And no matter what, don’t give in to the pace of others.  

Can’t you all picture her eating a meal?  Slowly, carefully.  Enjoying every single bite.  

Now, outside of always wanting to have her Dewey decimal organizational skills, I’ve always known there was a lesson to be learned in how Mar ate.  And it proved true to apply it to what I was going to say today.  

When I finally sat down to put things together and assess my plate just as I began to put together my first thoughts, my first forkful, it came to me.  
It was so obvious.  

There is no other way to remember Mar that makes sense then to think about Faith, Hope, and Love.

Faith
Mar was the model of living by the motto of “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”  
Though I would argue she mastered the art of substituting “Bless her heart” as an adequate substitute.   
Throughout Mar’s entire life she lived her faith….much like she ate her meal.  She didn’t let others influence or rush her and she BELIEVED each bite was going to be delicious.  

Oswald Chamber’s tells us that we are to be the broken bread and poured out wine of Christ for others, until they are strong enough to go to the source directly.  

Julie shared:  I appreciated how she always remembered every significant event in my life.  Not only did she remember, she made the effort to acknowledge it.  Not just our birthdays, but also our anniversary; sometimes it was a card, sometimes a text, sometimes a phone call….sometimes all three.  Mar had a gift of reaching out to others to make them feel special when they needed it most.

For all of us at one time or another, Mar has been the broken bread and poured out wine our hungry, thirsty hearts needed at just the right time.  

And we most certainly witnessed Mar embody her faithfulness the last seven years.  She and Uncle Tim walked a journey none of us can fathom.  Yet it seemed her smile never faded and her concern for others never waned.  

My mom, Claudia, shared, “At times, Mar could have been nominated for sainthood.
John Howell writes, “It is out of our pain that we become healers.  Our brokenness shows us that the cracks in ourselves can become like windows, to let light in and to let light out.”

In Marilee’s pain, she became a healer to all of us through her own journey and faithfulness.  

Hope 

She named her cat Hope.  That pretty much sums up Mar’s approach to life.

Mar was always hopeful for a positive outcome, no matter what the situation.  She always looked for the silver lining.  

We are often reminded to listen for the “still, small voice of God.”  For many of us, especially if you’re a Spann, that is hard to do.  But that didn’t seem to be the case for Mar.  

This is how Bonnie reflected on Mar:  
One of Mar's many sweet qualities was she was a good listener. I would rail on for a while about something, she would patiently listen. She would then, in her soft voice say, "Bonnie, the Bible tells us...and then she would recite a bible verse that covered my rant. It always amazed me and humbled me. I never felt she was judging me, just sharing her love of the Lord and His word. 

So, here’s the thing….you can’t hear the still, small voice of God if you don’t listen.  And Mar taught us all to listen.  

Even when God was silent, Mar listened.  And even when God was silent to all of us who prayed and pleaded and begged and cried for a different outcome, in many, many ways we heard God’s still small voice through Mar.  
Regardless of the circumstance, Mar taught us to hope in things above, through her listening and her approach to living.

Love
Mar exuded love.  In her beautiful, big eyes.  In her radiant smile.  And certainly in those perfectly, big Marilee hugs.  

Robin shared:  Mar loved her family, she loved being with them.” 

She modeled for us how to be intentional in supporting family members and all of our various endeavors for both the Spanns and the Millers.  If there was an award for best cheerleading aunt.  Mar would win.  Even when she couldn’t attend she’d follow up and cheer on from afar.   Dance recitals, hockey games, wrestling matches, art competitions, basketball, football, countless birthday parties, the list goes on and on.  

Mar loved chocolate.  And Mar loved sweets in general.  And personally, I think being remembered as someone who ate dessert first is the way to go!

And certainly, Mar loved Tim.

This is from Jaime:  You and dad loved each other through good times and bad, whether you were living paycheck to paycheck or a little more comfortably, healthy or sick (did you all know that Tim is a diabetic?)…you were an amazing example to Spencer and I and how to make it through the ebbs and flows of life. As long as we stick together, we can make it through anything. 
Thank you for being dad’s huckleberry!

I can still hear her say “Isn’t he cute?”

As we have gotten closer to today to come together and celebrate Mar’s life, I have found myself especially reflective during the Easter season.  Two weeks ago, as my church family gathered to celebrate Maundy Thursday, the traditional gathering the evening before Good Friday to acknowledge the story of Jesus’ last week, this is how our pastor opened the service.

There’s something oddly compelling and true about living thru Jesus’ death, because we, too, know our share of death, don’t we?.....with our own share of disease & failure & death, Jesus’ death acknowledges what we know all-too-well.  It is indeed an awful week.
Strangely, though, improbably perhaps, this is also a good week, indeed, we can even say, a very good week.  Sometimes people ask what could possibly be good about this week, and about Good Friday.

It’s good because it shows that Jesus knew what it was like to suffer and despair and die a very real death.  
It’s good because no matter what we’re going through, God is there.  
It’s good because even this ghastly chapter is finally redeemed by grace.

So let this story wash over you.  Take in the awfulness and the pain.  And know that even in the midst of the worst life can do to us, “there is yet more light and truth to break forth from God’s holy word” (John Robinson).

We are still asking what’s good about Mar being gone from us.  
It’s good because Mar showed us, no matter what we’re going through, God is there.  
It’s good because even Mar’s last chapter was redeemed by grace.  

We will continue to take in the awfulness and pain of Mar not being among us, yet we know there is more light and truth to break forth and for that we are grateful.


Now to really do this Spann representation justice it’s important that we close with a quote from one of our family bibles…Lonesome Dove.  
Mar certainly taught us all so many lessons in her last years as she worked at living a new normal and over and over again beating the odds.
And even in her dying she continued to show us faith, hope, and love.  And now our job is to honor Mar by remembering how she lived.  
As Augustus McCrae said “It ain’t dying we’re talking about, it’s living.”  
And yet these three remain.  Faith, hope and love.  I’d say that was a life well lived.


Thursday, March 3, 2016

Test

Test.  Test 1.

Test 1, 2 3.

PPPHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Is this thing on?

Yep, dusting ye old blog off again.  

Sweet Sarah said it was time I generously grace others with my randomness and not just her all the live the long day.  So, basically that means that MOM, you get to hear me blather again!  yay for you!!!

So I plan on throwing more things up here, more often.  

For those of you who started your own support group from withdrawl, you may rejoice and rescind your membership dues.  Well, wait.  Don't rescind.  Go to Happy Hour and spend them wisely for heaven's sakes.

Now my first act as Mayor of my little blog is to hereby declare....oh shoot.  I didn't think through that before I started that sentence. [ha!  spoken like so many of our politicians these days].  Anywho, I'll get back to you when I declare something.  

In the meantime, be looking for new blog posts.

I'm actually starting my first few posts with "meant to write about that" posts.  You know, the time I took pictures so I could blog about it later and then never blogged about it?  Yeah, that's what those will be.

L'Chaim,
hs

It's all about Relationships

I keep a post it note taped to one of my computer monitors.  It's dated June 14, 2014.  I hastily scratched it down while I was on the phone with him one day.  While we were talking, their house phone started ringing.  He set down his cell phone and went to answer the ringing landline.  I could hear him answer and his one sided conversation.

"Hello Schweingrubers.....Hi Sharon.  Oh, uh-huh.  Mmm,hmmm.  Saturday?  Yep, let me check......Yep, Saturday will be perfect.  Ok.  Thanks for calling."

Then he was back on the line with me.

"Ok, Holly.  That was Dr. Cole.  She wanted us to know she gave my phone number to another couple today she diagnosed with multiple myeloma.  We're going to meet with them Saturday."  

"Oh, that's good", I replied.  Then I asked, "Don, how many people do you think you and Nance have met with over the years?"

He paused.  "Hmmm, that's a good question, Holly."  He paused again.  "I don't know.  Lots", in his western Pennsylvania accent.

"Well," I said, "I just think it's so neat that you are willing to meet with all of these people.  And that Dr. Cole can freely give your name out."

Another pause.  "Well, you know, I have been hope for a lot of people."  And that's when I grabbed whatever was in front of me and wrote it down.  He continued on, "When I was diagnosed, people didn't survive as long as I've survived."

He said it casually.  Very matter of factly.  Very Don-like.  The same way he would say, "The Steelers are having a good year." or "Well, I have nice legs."  Confident, yet telling the truth.

And this was his truth.  Don was hope for a lot of people.  For over thirteen years, his oncologist would tell newly diagnosed mutiple myeloma patients to contact Don to help ease their fears, calm their anxiety and see living proof it's possible to live a long time after diagnosis.  

He was, indeed, hope to those people.  

What hope had he given people?  Imagine being given a fatal diagnosis.  Being told, many many times....'we're in unchartered waters.  we've used all the different types of drugs there are available to fight this cancer.'  That was part of Don's journey.  He had heard those words before, yet he continued on. He lived his life.  And through his living he became Hope to many, many people.

Don's life motto was "It's all about Relationships..."  Celebrations.  Difficulties.  Life's messiness.  Life's beauty and profoundness.  Don's default starting point, no matter how big or small the conversation, was "about the relationship".  And so it didn't matter to Don that he didn't know a thing about these strangers he was going to meet Saturday.  He'd start with the relationship.

We were on the phone when he said it.  But had I been at his house, on the floor propped up next to the fireplace, like many other times, he likely would have posed it as a question.  "When you think about your life at the age of 74, what do want people to have received from you?"

He liked questions.  Kept a bucket of them in the living room.  When he thought of one, he dropped it in.  Questions are what formed the basis of getting to know scads of college women over a 15 year period.  Deep questions.  Silly questions.  Questions meant to open up space between people and allow time and fears to be suspended.

-If you were a bridge what kind of bridge would you be and why?
-If you could change your name what would it be? [In 1993, he answered "Buck".  The name stuck ever since.]
-If you could relive one year of your childhood what would it be and why?
-What's the theme song of your life right now?

I adopted this very same technique when I started in my own career in the same profession.  Questions are the ultimate icebreaker.  They're the perfect way to get a group engaged with each other.  Questions allow others to get to know each other more quickly.  And you know what happens when you ask questions?  You LISTEN for answers. Don was a listener.

And when you listen, really listen, to others it allows for a relationship to develop and grow.

In the short six months since he has passed, I've picked up my phone to call or text him countless times.  Each time, it was to ask him a question.  From very specific advice in my work to more trivial ribbing questions about his beloved Pirates/Steelers?  

Perhaps I'll start my own question bucket, if only because it'll make me a better listener.  

Buck Gruber, you are surely missed by many.  We remember you on your birthday.  And today I will pose a few good questions to others in your honor.


Sitting on Don's Memorial Bench "It's all about relationships" is inscribed in the bench.


Hauling Rock

This has been sitting in my drafts for over a year.  I finally finished it.

Basically, I was born to haul rock.  Bred for it, my daddy always said.

Pretty much I am.  I'm also genetically disposed to collect rock too.  Can't haul it, if you don't collect it.

Anywho, see these pallets of brick?  Yep, we volunteered to move these to Sweet Sarah's parents house.  It was a win-win.  They got free brick, I got them out of the backyard.  

Easy cheesy, right?  A nice Sunday afternoon loading, followed by a nice dinner at her parents' place.
This picture shows us with one pallet loaded.

We're feeling pretty good here.  Pallet loaded.  Keep on movin'.  I was BRED FOR THIS!!!!  Oh, also...if you look closely at my nose you'll see a divot.  That would be a biopsy divot for what later turned out to be a nice healthy scoop of skin cancer.  WEAR YOUR SUNSCREEN PEOPLE!


Did I mention the humidity was 129thousand percent?  And EVERY LAST LITTLE brick was encrusted with mud and worms and centipedes?  This picture was immediately taken after the above picture.  Still one pallet loaded.  And yes, that's a Budweiser St. Paddy's Day hat on my head.  Don't judge.  Free is free!


At this point, we're still smiling.  And hopeful, we will have this brick out of the backyard by the end of the day.

But lo!  An angel of reason appeared [her name is Sweet Sarah] and gently pointed out that the hitch of the Highlander was just a mere two inches off the ground with only ONE pallet loaded.

Time to assess.

Post assessment, I determined we would re-distribute the weight of the first pallet aaaannnnddddd.....KEEP ON LOADING!!!!

But lo! The angel of reason RE-APPEARED!  She gently pointed out that even with the weight re-distributed the trailer was no SUDDENLY close to the ground.

SIGH.  Time to re-assess.

The angel of reason was right [she usually is, but don't tell her].  The SUV nor the trailer could handle any more weight.  

Dang it.  This was supposed to be a ONE DAY PROJECT!!!!  

[If it all turned out happy and easy, what would I write about?  And what would our would entertain our mothers?]

Well, let's just say this didn't end the way we had hoped.  It was a TWO Sunday afternoon project, in which we had to bribe our niece's fiance to help us finish.  It also cost us two trailer rentals, major tire ruts in the green grass and the worst of it being Sweet Sarah 3 chiropractor visits, 3 spine specialist visits, 6 physical therapy sessions and countless hours limping around.  

A win-win for sure. They got a patio.  I got a broken wife.

I, on the hand, was bred for it.  

The end.