A Teacup Filled With 🤍 Love 🤍

I was planning to write about something completely different this week, but as usual life had other plans. On Friday, June 2, my dear friend Pat had to make the difficult decision to euthanize her beloved Teacup Chihuahua, Teacup.

Pat has a heart of gold. Over 13 years ago, she rescued Teacup and her inseparable companion, Riley, a larger chihuahua, from a dire family situation. Riley died from heart failure more than four years ago on May 4, 2019. Interestingly enough, all week prior to Teacup’s passing, I kept having visions of Riley, who was always full of vigor, barking, jumping, and catching tennis balls in his mouth that we threw toward him. He was a tender-hearted dog who didn’t ask for anything much — except maybe treats!

Riley was very protective of Teacup, who was blind for most of her life. Teacup was also a content creature, but she loved being showered with love and attention from her mama, Pat, especially after Riley passed away at ten years old. Teacup brought Pat so much joy, and Pat was the kind of mama any four- or two-legged creature could only dream of. After Riley’s death, Pat and Teacup were inseparable.

Teacup, who was fourteen, seemed in good spirits on that fateful day. Overall, she possessed a feisty character and was in good health, although she did have a history of seizures.

It was one of those “ordinary” afternoons when I heard Pat’s voice calling me, “Come quick!”

Her chipper voice grated on my nerves. (I soon learned that she was only trying to protect me from any unnecessary shock.) It had been a physically toiling day, and I was exhausted. The last thing I wanted to do was stand up, having just sat down. I assumed Pat wanted me to look at a colorful wild bird outside the window.

Get up I did and walked into the hallway. Pat’s face was contorted in anguish. Teacup was having a seizure. We both knew from Teacup’s past history that her seizures usually lasted a few minutes, but this one was different. It had a fierceness to it that clung to her tiny body like the talons of a hawk clutching its prey. We layered her with cool, wet towels, and her seizure seemed to subside, but then, her body convulsed again, like an electrical circuit that had been hit by unrelenting lightning. Foam dripped from Teacup’s tiny mouth that was shaped like a half moon.

I had an urge to perform the same departure ritual, our final earthly walk through the house and grounds that I performed with our other pets, but refrained due to her excessive shaking.

Above all, I was riddled with anxiety, fearful that she would slip out of my hands. As I sat on the top of the back deck stairs, Teacup let out two yelping screams. I intuitively knew that she had released her final breaths. I looked up at the two towering trees in the distance, which mesmerize me every night at sunset and remind me of my humility in the great universe. As I watched the landscape fade, I thought of my own slow fade in the natural cyclical world that revolves and changes so perfectly without my influence.

That was when I mentally let Teacup go back to the good earth, back to the natural cycle of sunrise to sunset, where silence and acceptance are the only true answers.

Because her seizure showed no signs of stopping, we called the closest emergency pet clinic, knowing that this was a serious situation.

After an overnight stay at the animal hospital, the next morning Pat learned that despite the medication that the doctors administered, Teacup continued to endure several seizures that led to brain damage. Pat agreed with the doctor to euthanize Teacup, because she didn’t want her to suffer any longer. She wanted Teacup to go peacefully, and she did. Pat and I envisioned her playing and seeing Riley once again — a boisterous, bouncy, furry beach ball. As I mentioned, Teacup was blind and as she aged, her pitch-black eyes bulged and turned light blue with a fog-like appearance. Uncannily, when we spent those last few moments of her earthly life with her in an isolated room at the animal hospital, her eyes were wide, clear black and beautiful like a young pup once again. It were as if she regained her vision and was able to see the world anew with a pair of faith-filled eyes.

^{Faith Muscle}

Alan: Heeeee’s Back!

Over a week ago when I attended The Four Tops/The Temptations concert, I ran into a friend, Bill, whom I hadn’t seen since my dear friend Alan’s memorial service in October of 2022.

During intermission, Bill and I had a chance to talk. He was also close to Alan and was the bass player in his rock and roll band. Now, Alan was not only a loyal drop-everything-to-help-you-out kind of friend to both of us, but he never failed to fish out the humor in everything, even in what could have seemed the darkest and murkiest of waters. Sometimes when I’m particularly down, I reach out to text Alan.

Bill informed me that the band reorganized about nine months after Alan’s tragic death and proceeded to tell me an interesting story. Following countless hours of rehearsal and preparation, they had recently managed to book a gig at a local night club venue.

The night of the show, Bill pulled up to the venue. He was suffering from a particularly bad case of anxiety. As he was moving his equipment from his car, he rested the sheet music for the songs they planned to play that night on the roof of his car. It was an unwise decision, especially after a wind advisory had been issued. All of a sudden, the music sheets flew wildly away. Bill was in a high-traffic area and despite his best efforts, he eventually gave up chasing after them. He felt like he had been punched in the gut, and didn’t know whether to cry or dart home.

In a flash, he heard a loud and distinct roar of laughter. It sounded somewhere between an irritated seagull and a child who was being tickled. He could pinpoint that laugh anywhere: It was Alan’s laugh!

Alan’s contagious laugh filled the air and Bill couldn’t help but join in. He raised his head to the sky and yelled sarcastically, “Oh, shut up!”

Time was running out, and now he had to deal with a band member standing right in front of him. The band member’s stern face made it clear that this was no laughing matter. But instead of panicking, the band member offered Bill a helping hand and showed him the way forward.

For Bill, the first note of the band’s set was like a portal into another dimension. Bill felt an overwhelming sense of joy and excitement. At the end of the first set, the band members were mesmerized by Bill’s performance. He had never played so well before and without any sheet music.

The band members all clamored at once. “We’ve never heard you play so well. What’s up? You even played a song we threw in that we’ve never performed. It was like you played it hundreds of times before. What’s up?”

Bill’s face lit up. “Really?” Everyone continued to stare at him in awe while waiting for his response. “I guess all the practice we did payed off, and I felt like Alan was here, playing with us.”

Everyone glanced at each other. “You mean you could hear him?” One of the band members asked, breaking the silence.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, I heard him laughing when I lost my sheet music in the wind. After that, it was like he was right here on the stage next to us.”

The band members looked at each other again, this time with smiles on their faces.

“Well, I guess we know who our lucky charm is,” one of them said, grinning.

And so, with Alan’s spirit cheering them on, the band played their hearts out that night. And the crowd loved it.

After the show, Bill was approached by a woman who told him that she had lost her husband a few years ago. She said that he had also played the bass and she kept seeing him instead of Bill.

“It was so uncanny, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. I’ve had a rough time since losing him and for the first time, I feel like there’s hope in the future that I could never see with him gone.

Bill smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Seems like there are a lot of funny spirits around today.”

The woman smiled back. “I’m glad I came to the show,” she said. “It’s given me a lot to think about.”

Bill nodded. “Me too,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Bill smiled. “You’re welcome,” he said.

The woman smiled back and then she was gone.

Bill watched her go, before he turned and walked back to the band. They were all gathered around, talking and laughing. Bill smiled as he joined them. He knew that Alan would be proud of them.

And he knew that Alan would always be with them, in spirit. Suddenly, he understood that sometimes faith was best studied without relying on scores or written notes.

^{Faith Muscle}

Let it Roar, Let it Roar, Let it Roar

Last Saturday night, I attended a concert by two legendary Motown groups, The Four Tops and The Temptations. The concert was at the Hartford Healthcare Amphitheater in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

The day of the performance, it rained heavily. As we moved closer to showtime, we began to wonder if we should even venture outside into the inclement weather. We were also irked that the amphitheater had not made the decision to cancel the show.

“Listen, if these groups, in which two of the original members are now in their 80s, are willing and able to perform, we can get a little wet to go see them,” I said to my life partner and two friends, who were going with me.

I pulled out a leopard rain jacket in my closet that my dear friend Michelle had gifted me and was ready to rock and “roar.”

After a few setbacks and delays, we finally made it to the theatre, a bit wet and ruffled, and a half hour late. Thankfully, the staff had moved our “outdoor” seating to under the theater’s roof.

Duke Fakir, who is 81, is the last original member of the Four Tops, and the opening act, clearly revealed that his energy does not lack. The band played all of their classic hits, including “Reach Out I’ll Be There,” “I Can’t Help Myself,” and “Baby I Need Your Love.” The crowd sang and danced along; it was as if we didn’t have seats under us.

The Temptations took the stage next, and they performed their greatest hits, including “My Girl,” “Papa Was a Rolling Stone,” and “Just My Imagination.”

Otis Williams, the founder and last surviving original member of the group, at 81 years old was still smooth and powerful after playing with the group for 63 years. The other original band members had tragic endings that included dying by illness, suicide and succumbing to alcoholism as well as drug addition.

Otis and Duke had been through many difficulties in their lives, but they never gave up and because of their tenacity, I was up off my seat, transported in a time machine that cut through orbits of sorrow, heartache and PTSD, only to transport me back to the late 1960s. I remembered feeling the soft cashmere texture under my kid’s bare feet from a white carpet imprinted with lime green leaves at my parent’s colonial. A prominent attorney had replaced the carpet in his house with a new one. He then gifted the old carpet to my proud Ukrainian-born immigrant father, who worked as his landscaper every Saturday after a full week of working his day job. The carpet represented my father’s hard work and determination and was a symbol of his hope for a better future for his family.

Next to my bare, young feet in the hallway, I visualized Brother Paul’s shiny black shoes gleaming in the florescent light. The two of us were dancing to my mom’s console stereo blaring Motown hits. He held up his finely manicured hands for me to admire. I glowed in his pride that beamed from his face knowing he was probably the only kid in our neighborhood who would take the train into New York City to do something so unconventional. But he didn’t care. He dared to be different.

Twisting our hips from side to side, shaking our shoulders, clapping our hands and pounding our feet into the lime green ivy imprinted white carpet, my ten-year-older brother who introduced me to Motown music gave me a newfound freedom. I was freed from the punishing God our family raised us with. I was freed from the bullies at school who made it known that I was not allowed to breathe the same oxygen as them. Freed from teachers who rarely, if every spoke my Americanized name. And I was freed from sitting on a branch of our big oak tree, contemplating a final leap from a world that opened up the way.

Motown music was a means to connect with my brother and to feel like I belonged somewhere. It saved me and gave me faith like nothing else ever did, and that’s how I felt again at the performance last Saturday night.

Otis paused during his performance to address the audience. He told us that he and his band were not the stars. We were. We were the ones who kept them going. He proceeded to thank us for coming out to see them even in the rain. All I wanted to do was yell back at him and say, “And you, you, young fellow in spirit, have kept me going. You truly are a star, a humble one at that. You let it roar.”

As he started singing and dancing, I twisted my hips and shook my body over and over, while revolving flash backs wrapped around me.

By the end of The Temptations’ performance, it stopped raining and the air turned crisp and pure. It felt like anything was possible at any age, under any circumstances, if you never give up on your dreams. We bounced down the street, singing along to the Temptations’ songs, free. With my leopard jacket hugging my body in its warmth and music reverberating in my head, I felt convinced that anything and everything were possible.

^{Faith Muscle}

Stop “Shoulding”

Have you ever had an experience with someone who seems to know you better than you know yourself? That’s how I feel when I encounter my neighbor Eli Louise who constantly seems to fold herself into my stratosphere like a bur on your ankle socks that you can’t loosen no matter how hard you pull at it. She has no idea about me or my life, but within seconds after running into her yesterday, she was setting forth directives that she deemed were tailored to my needs.

A.YOU should retire. B. YOU should sell your house. C. YOU should move into a condo.

I work hard not to take Eli Louise personally. She “shoulds” all over everyone she meets.

Before I offered a reply to her momentous pronouncements, I felt the solid ground beneath my feet. I looked her in the eyes. To summarize what I said, it basically amounted to something like people who feel out of control internally often try to regain a sense of control by controlling the people and situations around them.

After I said this, she immediately shifted the conversation to lamenting about the people she had met the previous weekend. Fortunately, I managed to escape the situation and her tornado of toxicity.

Surprisingly, gratitude managed to penetrate my ruffled state. I realized that despite her attempts to sound superior, I knew that I was the one who was truly fortunate. She may have thought she was the one reaping the benefits of wealth and retirement, but I had a different perspective. I intrinsically knew that true peace of the mind could not be bought or obtained through the material world. True peace is an inner state of being that must be cultivated from within.

How? By making a conscious choice and decision on a daily basis to stay close to our true selves, away from the chaos of everyday life. It also helps to stay clear of those who “should” all over us. They are not helpers. They distract us from what truly matters by flooding us with their own insecurities.

And so, there I was after my brief encounter, feeling pressured to feel “I should” live up to certain standards of success and happiness. In my fury, I planned to write a seething blog post about Eli Louise and describe the indignation of being judged by a self-righteous person, and how it felt infuriating and demoralizing. I also wanted to explore why judgmental people are only a reflection of themselves and how to deal with them.

But then I asked myself, “WHY? WHY invest the time and energy to focus on negative forces?”

I mean, it’s easy to get overwhelmed by the Eli Louises in the world. However, with a little faith, we can shift our perspective and fill our lives with meaning instead of siphoning our spirits with the “shoulds.”

Besides writing a blog post focused solely on my negative emotions regarding Eli Louise, I decided how I could incorporate my feelings and use them as an opportunity for personal growth. However, I procrastinated and put off writing by going on FB, which I rarely do and, lo and behold, I found the following image that perfectly encapsulated the next steps for me to take.

The rest of the day I spent in a scavenger hunt style, combing through the trash and panning for gold – the things that truly matter in my life, such as writing this blog post as I wore my Bombas socks that my childhood friend, Anna, had sent me as a “Just Because” gift this past winter. Sipping a freshly brewed cup of steaming coffee that was so pure, I easily imagined the smooth beans cooling my palms as I held the cup in my hands.

I was further rewarded to get to bask in the sun’s rays in my home office and feel the sturdy winds from the open window that moved around me – forces at work in the world that reminded me how they were beyond my control. The realization made me appreciate the beauty of nature, and its power to bring a sense of solitude and peace to my life – even without the luxury of retirement.

^{Faith Muscle}

Pawfect 🐾 Peace

Two days ago, my two grand fur babies departed after 10 intense days of staying with us at my house while my daughter vacationed in Puerto Plata in the Dominican Republic. During this time, I experienced an intense mix of emotions: fear of the indoor cats escaping into the wilds around our house, happiness at seeing them so content and playful, angst when they tried to tear apart furnishings. On the other hand, I felt deep sadness knowing that our time together was coming to an end yet, paradoxically, counting the days until they left.

Both of my daughter’s kitties are rescue cats. The newest addition, June, is deaf. Now, I’ve had my share of cats over the years, but I must say, none of them had come close to her fiendish personality. From her mischievous antics to her friendly demeanor, she is a one-of-a-kind feline. Just imagine Spider-Man’s slow crawl up, as he relies on static electricity to attach to walls and ceilings. This is how she looked when she climbed up the living room window’s brand new screen. She set out on a mission to capture a bug and prove that there is indeed a method to her madness. Unfortunately for her, the bug flew free. Fortunate for us, the screen remained intact.

She may look like a pure white angel with a sweet face, but beware! She is living proof that appearance can be deceiving. Perhaps, it is because she is still young, around 18 months, or because it was her first experience at my house or maybe her deafness played a part in her behavior, but here’s the nicknames I and my daughter’s godmother came up with: House Wrecker; Demolition Crew; Hellish Hellion; Loonie Junie and Loon June.

When June first arrived, she hissed at everyone, particularly Gemini, or shortened form, Gemi, who is a real Gem. My daughter rescued him from a New York City shelter, and he rescued her, and their bond is unbreakable. Over the years, the sleek, black cat, that can be cast as an Egyptian model, has “shed” many of his idiosyncrasies. One particular habit that remains a constant is eating plastic and then throwing up. His favorite type of plastic is the white Amazon mailing bags. His second preference is the loud, stiff, crunchy clear plastic.

A week prior to my fur babies’ arrival, I not only hid the plastic, I spent no less than four hours “June” proofing my house by storing vases, breakables and finding alternative space for my houseplants. Then there was shopping and getting litter pans and food and toys, so many toys, prepared.

Why even bother? Why can’t she hire someone to come to her place? You have other priorities. Sure, I heard plenty of objections from “concerned” parties and some interesting self-talk discussions that I conducted on my own.

Why do it? During trying times when I over-extend, inconvenience myself and, truthfully want to pull my hair out, what helps me is calling to mind: Faith without works is dead. Without getting too esoteric about the idea, it is merely my way of saying, “thank you” to the universe. I use the acronym: FAA. Faith. Attitude. Action.

The cruel blows from my life have been difficult to bear, but they should not blind me from the lucky strokes that have found their way through the pain. It is these lucky strokes that give me hope and courage to keep going, no matter how hard it gets. For example, people who love me. A safe neighborhood to live in. Clean water to drink. Nutritious food to eat. And music, OMG, music. I’ve never had such an appreciation before for it as I do now.

Before my firstborn was born, I was the most self-centered person on earth, and I loved every minute of it. Don’t get me wrong. Even though I had to juggle my own commitments, I never failed to make time for charity work, which is why people called me Sister Stacy in the 80s. The difference was that the charity work was done on my own schedule and at my convenience. When I felt like it. Inconvenience was incomprehensible.

In 1993, after my son was born, I had to be ready at any given moment to tend to his colic and medical issues. Luckily, I had a tight support group. Every week, I would mouth the same thing to the members, “My son is teaching me how to love.”

Twenty-one months later, my daughter was born and by then sleepless nights and putting my life on hold became the norm. This was particularly true since my then husband was not as flexible about not having the ability to enjoy himself.

In the end, I was the winner. This crash course in parenting taught me the importance of having flexibility and the ability to drop everything at any point in time.

Keeping my faith in times of difficulty and having the right Attitude and Action to show unconditional love have been two of the most important lessons I have learned in life. My children have taught me the most important lesson of my life – how to love unconditionally. Without their help, I would never have welcomed these furry creatures into my home and my heart.

There’s another reason I like to have the open door policy at my house (as long as June and Gemi don’t spring outside of it!). I learned it after grief stripped my being to a bare minimum. The lesson is that I must take advantage of every moment that I have with my loved ones and strive to build strong bonds with each other through communication, understanding, compassion, kindness and make it as meaningful as possible in light of the fleeting moments.

Martin Hägglund’s This Life: Secular Faith and Spiritual Freedom reminds us that life should be lived in the present moment and encourages us to make every second count. By understanding and embracing this concept, we can make better use of our time and focus on what really matters in life.

His love of the place is tinged with a sense of impermanence and an acceptance that nothing lasts forever. In the following passage, the author paints the picture of his native northern-Swedish landscape and perfectly illustrates what I refer to:

When I return to the same landscape every summer, part of what makes it so poignant is that I may never see it again. Moreover, I care for the preservation of the landscape because I am aware that even the duration of the natural environment is not guaranteed. Likewise, my devotion to the ones I love is inseparable from the sense that they cannot be taken for granted. . . . Our time together is illuminated by the sense that it will not last forever and we need to take care of one another because our lives are fragile.

In this vein, I survived the ten days albeit exhausted and sometimes overwhelmed, but it was worth it, and my agreement and follow through to cat sit for my daughter’s fur babies reinforced just how much I love her, and I hope one day when I am no longer around, she will be able to draw my feelings for her out of her memory bank. You see, in each funny, silly, harried and dastardly moment, I was in the process of carving a legacy for my daughter that is framed with the words: I loved you then; I love you now. I will love you always and forever, and my love reaches farther than the moon, stars and infinite catwalks through eternity and beyond. It is a reminder that my love for her transcends time, distance and even death itself.

^{Faith Muscle}

Faithfully Fluid

Last week in my blog post, I elaborated on my mom’s wise words of wisdom: “You never know how someone’s end will be.”

Sometimes my mom also reminded me, “We never know how our end will be.”

In other words, it is easy to get carried away by the trappings of success in life. Whether it is a successful career, a good job, or material things like a new car or house, how fast we can grow complacent and think that we have achieved all that we need to. However, staying humble and never getting too comfortable with our current situation is essential for continued success in life. I strive to stay grounded and remember that nothing in this world lasts forever. In this way, I am able to appreciate the good times while also being mindful of the bad times and knowing how quickly things can change.

For me, it all begins with my EGO. At the heart, EGO can often be the source of both our strength for self-improvement and our downfall. Whenever I find myself getting too caught up in my own ego, I take a step back and reflect on how my actions are affecting others and myself. Typically, the first step of the process is reminding myself that EGO is an acronym for Edging God Out or Edging Goodness Out (depending on the preference), and it calls to mind the concept of the importance of being humble and kind.

Despite spending nearly four decades honing my skills and training in the “ego gym,” it’s still easy for me to get caught up in the pursuit of recognition and validation. I’ve discovered that ego-driven behavior does not lead to true success or fulfillment. It’s important to recognize that I, as well as everyone else, have something valuable to offer, regardless of how “beautiful” things appear and how much recognition we get from others.

The ego is an ever-present force, and it can be difficult to resist its pull. It is easy to often fall into society’s trap and be consumed by the need for more — more money, more power, more success. In the process, we lose our focus on what truly matters. The Buddhist principle of non-attachment, “The root of suffering is attachment,” has been valuable to me and helps me break free from the grip of ego and lead a life of contentment.

For nearly four years, I’ve experienced a crash course in detachment from everything that I thought defined me; one big ego deflation that has left me shrunk and depleted. The challenge for me is using this experience to bring something positive into life, even if it just boils down to being more open and listening to others without judgment. You see, for many years I thought my faith and beliefs were the fix for me and everyone else. By not recognizing the importance of understanding others and their beliefs, I was blind to the real solutions and made some wrong decisions that brought me to a series of tragic consequences. It was only after this experience that I realized how important it is for me to look beyond my own ego.

Everyone has their own unique set of circumstances and insecurities, so it is important to respect their autonomy and not question how they choose to live their life.

For many people, mental health issues can be an invisible burden that they have to bear alone. This was certainly the case for my friend Brian. After struggling with depression and self-harm for most of his life, he finally found a way out – the practice of Buddhism. For the last six years, he has been using Buddhist principles to manage his mental health and live a happier life.

It is important for me to remember that everyone has different needs and preferences when it comes to self-care. What works for one person may not work for another. It is mandatory for me to focus on myself. When I do this, it is much more possible for me to find faith even in the midst of uncertainty, because, no, I don’t know what MY end will bring, but as I sail through life, I don’t want my EGO to be the captain of my boat. In order to reach my final destination, I am learning how to have a humble attitude and open heart, and allow the wind to guide me, trusting that one day, without any luggage weighing me down, I will reach paradise.

^{Faith Muscle}

Raquel’s Reflection

_{Sunset Vectors by Vecteezy}

Iconic American actress, Raquel Welch, was the epitome of beauty and grace, and her captivating, sexy personality made her a popular public figure and a common choice for many first crushes!

Even though she lived a long life, I was taken aback last week when I heard about the passing of the 82-year-old Hollywood legend.

We all have our own end, no matter how strong and powerful we may be.

“You never know how someone’s end will be.” I’ve written before about how my mom repeatedly reminded me of this simple, but wise insight. She would nudge me and awaken my consciousness with those words for me to call to mind everyone’s vulnerability, fragility and mortality, especially during the times I felt angry or frustrated with someone.

My mom’s words came at me loud and clear when I found out about the sad reality that Ms. Welch suffered from Alzheimer’s at the end of her life. Immediately I realized how ironic it was that she memorized so many lines for her roles throughout her long career, and yet in the end was unable to remember even the most basic things.

The Hollywood Walk of Fame is a place of reverence and admiration, but it also serves as a reminder that even the brightest stars can eventually burn out — many times painfully.

The world is an ever-changing stage, with each person playing a unique role in it. We may experience grand finales in life or flops, perhaps, too, our curtains may drop before we reach the end of the script. In any case, we are not the lead writer and showrunner.

No, there are no dress rehearsals. However, with the right attitude we can pull off that movie star look and feel, and empower ourselves to take risks, push boundaries and live our lives with courage and conviction. A little faith also helps us, knowing that although we can’t see them backstage, there is a pair of trench boots in our size that stand ready and tall when we need them.

^{Faith Muscle}

Sadie Said: Her Words Live On❤️

^{Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash}

Chicken salad with grapes and pecans. Classic macaroni salad.  Picnic egg salad with capers. Smoked salmon platter. Tuna, cucumber and tomato tea sandwiches. Three-layer cranberry jello mold with raspberries, mango and pineapple. Grand finale: showstopping cheesecake, strawberry shortcake and homemade brownies.

This was a mere sampling of the Thursday community lunch menu that Sadie meticulously planned out during our volunteer commitment that I described in last week’s blog, ensuring that everyone had something delicious to enjoy. Most memorable, though, was Sadie’s Sensational Sponge Cake. Yep, three simple ingredients – eggs, flour, and sugar  – and it may be hard to believe that someone with a flair for the dramatic and a wardrobe full of rainbow colors and spike heels would select a signature dessert as plain as sponge cake. Even though Sadie had a panoramic colorful background and personality to match, she also enjoyed the simple pleasures of life.

Her attention to detail and passion for bringing people together also made the weekly lunches an experience that was akin to a holy one. Basically, for me this meant I filled the backstage roles that included bringing the paper goods, preparing the coffee, helping set up and clean up afterwards.

Incredibly, by year two of our commitment, Sadie’s friends, whom I also elaborated on in last week’s blog, ended up pitching in! (There was only one man in the group who was the exception. Unless he was noshing or drinking, he was asleep in the corner of the room.) Overall, though, it was an inspiring example of how collective action can make a difference and create lasting change. After a year of working with Sadie, my outlook on life had changed significantly. I looked at the world with newfound appreciation, understanding and faith. Prior to meeting Sadie, I had experienced spells of depression that left me feeling isolated and helpless. However, her influence in my life helped to lift the dark veil that had been looming over me for so long. With her kind words and unwavering support, she gave me the courage to face my struggles and find a way out of the darkness.

Then one fateful Thursday, darkness descended on us in a new way. I arrived at the commitment earlier than Sadie, which was unusual. As I was setting up, Sadie ran past her group of friends that accompanied her in her clown car and charged into the church hall with the energy of a frenzied bat, desperate to avoid the harsh light of day.

“Look! Look! I just saw this this morning.”

As she slowly lifted her pitch-black long hair, a sight of horror was revealed. Running down her neck were large lumps, but smaller than golf balls, that had been hidden beneath her locks. It was a shocking discovery that made it difficult to comprehend what could have caused them to appear. A feeling of dread suddenly came over me.

Somehow I discerned I was the only one she had, at least thus far, confided in about her discovery and before her friends and the lunchtime crowd arrived, I shrieked, “You have to go to the doctor. TODAY!”

Without any resistance, she nodded her head in agreement, and we performed our duties quieter than usual. Little did she know that the doctor would examine her that day and send her to an oncologist just a few hours later. I was devastated when I found out that my close friend had been diagnosed with cancer. Unfortunately, two weeks later, the news we received was heartbreaking — she had cancer in her lymph nodes and it wasn’t good. It was particularly sad because she not only had three adult daughters from her first marriage, but her youngest daughter, from her third marriage, was only eight years old, being too young to comprehend the extent of the illness.

By then, two other volunteers replaced us at the Thursday luncheons. I focused on work as well as preparations for my upcoming May wedding. It was ironic that after sharing all my sad stories about being single with Sadie, I had quickly met a nice man (so I thought at the time) and we were engaged shortly after. While Sadie underwent chemotherapy and radiation treatment, she only wanted to hear about two things: my plans for my wedding a year from that time and all the people who beat the odds against cancer.

Although life had thrown her many injustices, she never once complained. Instead, she was grateful for the second chance to make a new life for herself, despite being pulled back down by another set of very different circumstances that were about to demolish her dreams for a second time.

Sadie and I never talked about her being healthy enough to attend my wedding. Deep inside, we knew it was not in the cards. The last time I saw her in the hospital was in April of the following year, one month before my wedding, and a day before she died.

When I walked into her room, I found her weak and pale, yet sitting up in her bed. Her signature mane of hair now gone; a stark contrast to the woman everyone had come to know and love. She wore a powder blue cap that made her look twenty years older than her forty-something years. She smiled warmly and greeted me with a whisper, “Hey! How ya doing? The beautiful bride to be.”

Holding back the tears, I could only let out a soft, “Hello.”

As I sat by her bedside, I sensed a cloud of warm air enveloping us as we held hands. She expressed her usual eagerness to hear about the wedding plans, and couldn’t wait to find out every detail – from the church to the reception, but most of all, she wanted to know what food would be served in the evening.

“We are having a beautiful array of food. Served to perfection. Nothing, though, compared to your lunches, Sadie. They were a true work of art. They were Holy.”

She flinched because it hurt to laugh. “We didn’t meet every Thursday to eat lunch. We came together to share something more important  –  love. Nothing’s more Holier than that.”

I stopped pushing the tears away and as I looked into Sadie’s eyes, I realized that no amount of words could ever express the depth of my gratitude for her presence in my life. “I love you, Sadie.”

After I exited her room and slowly moved down the hallway with my head full of memories and my stomach in knots from the pain, my mind suddenly filled with the craziest thought imaginable. In a split second, I made an abrupt three hundred and sixty degree turn and rushed back to her room.

“Sadie! I’m sorry to bother you.”

“It’s okay,” she barely murmured.

“Can I have your recipe for Sadie’s Sensational Sponge Cake?”

“Yeah. Sure. But come back tomorrow. I’ll give it to you then and you can write it down,” Sadie whispered before she drifted off to sleep.

The next day, as I already mentioned, Sadie died, a month before my wedding. Obviously, she never gave me her recipe for Sadie’s Sensational Sponge Cake. The consolation was that I received something far sweeter and more valuable than temporary bodily sustenance: her recipe for life.

Life’s❤️ Sweet Recipe

I was in the middle of writing the final paragraph of this week’s blog and then realized it was Valentine’s Day TODAY! Although the last string of my blogs have centered around love themes — figures that the blog I initially worked on for today pertained to a woman who was removed from love. I had to quickly change my plans and attempted to “force fit” a Valentine’s spin on the blog post, but failed miserably and decided to give up the reins of control and post the piece next week.

Interestingly, while trying to edit my original blog post, I conducted a quick Google search and found the following information about today’s holiday below:

“Today, is Valentine’s Day in America. The name Valentine comes from a Latin word meaning “strength.” There are many legends about it, but it’s ultimately unclear how Valentine’s Day became associated with the tradition of exchanging the affectionate gifts and love notes that we call valentines.”

I never associated Valentine’s Day with the theme of strength. When I learned this information, I thought about how love is beautiful, yet it can be difficult and take a lot of strength to get through each day in a relationship with someone you love. Worst still, is finding the strength to live as an unhappy couple under one roof.

Valentine’s Day is meant to be one of the most romantic and sentimental days of the year. It’s a day for lovers and couples to celebrate their love. For single people, it can be an especially hard day — a day that requires extra strength to get through.

And so this reflects my son’s story. From the time he was an adolescent, he became introverted and socially isolated. Every Valentine’s Day seemed harder than the last one and on those holidays every night seemed more difficult than the last one in the previous year.

I shared a similar history when I was his age. In fact, I wrote a string of maudlin-sounding articles dealing with being single and alone in America and, feeding into my sad, painful state, they were all rejected by editors.

At any age, it’s a challenge to find the strength to combat feelings of loneliness and isolation. That said, Valentine’s Day has also taken on a few new meanings to me in recent years. It is no longer just about a traditional couple’s love and romance, but also about celebrating the LGBT community, marginalized and voiceless. It is a time for me to get unstuck in MY dark feelings and, instead, find the strength to get proactive and distribute a few “sweet treats” JUST BECAUSE, I care. JUST BECAUSE, I don’t want others to feel hopeless and fall into faithlessness.

And that’s what I’ve done over this last week, sprinkled a little Valentine’s magic in the form of greeting cards, gift cards and homemade candy (NOT homemade by me though!) to a few kids and adults I haven’t seen in a while.

_{My Heart-Shaped Sweet Potato GIFT}

Now, I am going to tell you about a surprise gift that I received yesterday. It was a sweet potato in the shape of a heart, right out of the bag. It was such a simple thing, but lifted my spirits and gave me the strength to get through the rest of my day!

No matter how your spirits are today and regardless of your situation, my wish for you this Valentine’s Day is that you have the hope, faith and strength to celebrate the little things that warm your heart. For example, whipping up a sweet potato pie, a classic American dessert, to share with a neighbor will fill the bill (and your belly AND DEFINITELY WARM YOUR HEART!).

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

Love ❤️ Can Build a Bridge

Despite my reservations, I decided to attend “The Judds: The Final Tour” concert last Saturday. I had a variety of concerns about the event that were causing me to hesitate, none of which I’ll elaborate on, but in the end, I decided to take the plunge and go with my dear friend, Camille, who secured the tickets. As it turned out, my worries were unfounded. 

Wynonna Judd has been a household name since the early 90s when she rose to fame as a country music star. Her success was meteoric, and she quickly became one of the most popular country singers of all time. However, despite her fame and success, although I liked and sang along to her hits on the radio, I was never a huge fan. Since Lucille Ball died in 1989, I did not conform with the masses and follow any other entertainers, singers or celebrities.

Before our family tragedy, I had been an avid fan of country/western music. Now, I no longer feel the same connection to this genre. I was curious, however, to see how Wynonna would bring her style of music to life on the stage. I wasn’t sure what to expect. After all, I had never seen her perform before. But when she took the stage and started playing her country music, I was blown away by her talent and energy that had me – and the rest of the audience – captivated from start to finish.

The Judd family has been in the public eye for many years, and during that time, many rumors and conflicts have come to light. It is no secret that the Judds have also faced a great deal of mental health challenges, ranging from depression to addiction. The matriarch, Naomi, died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound on April 30, 2022, the day before she and Wynonna were scheduled to be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. The concert we went to was initially intended to be part of Naomi and Wynonna’s tour, the first one in nearly a decade that the singers announced on April 11, nine days before the tragedy happened.

Strongly influenced by her husband, Cactus, after her mom’s death, Wynonna decided to perform the tour solo. Her decision has led her to be a symbol of hope and faith for many people, myself among them. The singer’s strength lies in her ability to perform while grieving her recent loss, especially when you consider the scope of the monster. Labeling grief as an emotion or feeling is only looking at it in a very limited way. Grief is more like a giant sponge that absorbs and affects us on all levels – physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. For Wynonna, there is no running away from the pain. Instead, she takes it head-on with her fearless attitude.

Grief is also a universal emotion, yet it is often associated with shame and taboo. On stage, one woman has chosen to counter this stigma by sharing her story of loss and grief in an open and honest way. Through Wynonna’s tears, she communicates to others that it is okay to cry, to feel pain, and freely express emotions and, thereby, encourages others to confront their own uncomfortable feelings. Furthermore, she demonstrates resilience by continuing to live a different version of life after grief’s transformative effect.

As I looked around the room during the concert, I was taken aback by the sight of numerous rows of empty seats. It was a stark contrast to the energy and enthusiasm that Wynonna spread throughout the arena. Instead of ignoring the empty seats, she addressed them directly, revealing her difficulty in coming to terms with empty seats when she was a young performer. She told the audience that she now at 58 years old understands that quality is more important than quantity. She has experienced the highs and lows of life and decided that living meaningfully is what truly matters. On the night of the concert, it was definitely quality and not quantity that counted. The atmosphere was electric. As Wyonna put it, it felt as if there were 10,000 people in the audience cheering and singing along to every song. She confided that, as it turned out, we had been her BEST audience during that particular week.

The performer shared during an interview that the goal of her performances on this tour was to heal. The stage, in fact, was filled with love, a powerful emotion that has the ability to bring people together and heal broken hearts. It was a sight to behold, as people of all ages and backgrounds were united in love. Last week, I wrote about the topic of love and actually planned to write about it this week with a totally different story angle until I attended the concert.

Interestingly, when I watched Wynonna and Cactus, an amazing drummer, singing and gazing into each other’s eyes, I, too, was moved by their deep connection, a positive element of their relationship that she has also publicly discussed. It was a reminder that true love is not always about grand gestures, but more about being present to the moment and appreciating what you have.

Wynonna’s performance became further enhanced by her nostalgic mix of photos and videos that served as a reminder of the many impactful memories Wynonna’s mom created in her lifetime. At the end of the concert, it was particularly heartwarming to hear Wynonna singing along with a synced video image of her mom singing too.

The music of a vulnerable human being is something that goes beyond just sound. It is an expression of deep emotion and experience that can touch the heart and soul of listeners. When such a person sings, it is as if they are presenting themselves in a poignant song, inviting us to feel their pain and joy in every note. I was drawn to Wynonna’s music and able to reflect and introspect in a way in which I connected with the artist on a deeper level than I could ever have imagined. Her music moved me emotionally, helped me process my own grief I was feeling at the time. Even though country/western music is no longer the genre that defines me as it once did, Wynonna helped me understand that it still holds a special place in my heart. I cannot erase the part it played, along with my memories, in my own unique narrative and journey. Who would have dreamed that in about an hour and a half of her performance, though I knew the power of love could heal a broken heart, what I didn’t fully grasp was the importance of understanding how the bridge of love had already been built inside me over a long course of time. I can look at both sides, inward and outward, and find solace despite the pain and hurt, see a broken heart and take comfort in the fact that its quality as a vessel of love remains.

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