WORK― at PROBLEM SOLVING

If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.Abraham Maslow

It’s funny how one person can struggle with things changing so much and have someone so close to them struggling with them not changing.  The problem with life is so often bad timing.  Why is it that when we want things to stay the same they always seem to change?  And when we are dying for a change we find ourselves stuck in a maze―hitting brick walls at every turn―unable to escape to the new place we so desperately need to get to?

The problem of bad timing can manifest itself in many shapes, sizes, and forms. But Alanis Morissette’s song “Ironic” comes to mind as the best way to portray what I am talking about.  Lines like: “A traffic jam, when you’re already late...” (which is every day for me). And “A death row, pardoned two minutes too late.” That whole song is about bad timing.  My favorite line is: “It’s like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife.”  ONE KNIFE...please!  And isn’t it ironic? ...I was actually hunting for ONE plastic SPOON for my “to go” yogurt breakfast just this morning.

That’s where my quote comes in: “If the only tool you have is a hammer, you tend to see every problem as a nail.”  While this quote has many applications, when is comes to life’s timing issues I think it speaks volumes regarding our approach.  Bad timing can be navigated poorly or very well...depending on how we look at our available options for a solution.  When we choose to only see what is familiar to us (a hammer), sometimes that limits our vision for solving the problem to doing it the same way we always have (by hitting the nail).  

Me feeling the AWE of the HAMMER (apparently!)

I will never forget working on Habitat for Humanity project one summer at Camp Baskerville in middle school...mostly because it was about a thousand degrees outside everyday.  The contractor that led the project was a wonderful man who really took the time to teach us some building skills.  I think I was about thirteen years old, but with supervision and direction, I built a closet that summer.  

Two members of the family BEFORE the remodel was finished

Another member of the crew working hard.

It was part of a remodel that was done to a sweet and deserving family’s house.  There was a moment when I was trying to nail a cross support rod into a tight space with an old fashion hammer (no air hammer’s on this project) and there just wasn’t enough space to finish driving the nail because of the tight angle at the back corner of the closet.  I called the contractor over for help.  He walked right in, saw my dilemma, flipped his hammer over sideways, and used the flat outside edge (instead of the head) to tap-tap-tap the nail down into place.  I had a “blond girl moment” and thought to myself “now why couldn’t I have figured that out!?!”

Yes, that's me...Many thanks to wonderful friend and fellow Baskerville attendee Katherine Sabalis Miles for digging these old pictures out of her scrapbooks!!!  Who knew my "best feature" had been documented in white GUESS cut-off jeans!?!

The answer: Limited vision.  I only knew one way to solve the problem.

I was reminded of the above incident as the man who delivered my new sofa and chair/ottoman this past week struggled to get the bottom pin of the door to my house out from the hinge last week (the doors had to come off in order to get the sofa in).  I swear he would still be there trying to get the pin out the same way over and over again unsuccessfully had I not gently “suggested” that he flip his hammer over.  Ever heard that quote by Albert Einstein? “INSANITY: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

After the “suggestion” was followed, he just looked up at me like “Who are you Lady? Bob Villa’s daughter?”  

My point on bad timing is this: We can’t always fix our timing issues by hammering down the nail the way we know how to. Sometimes we have to get a little more creative.  And sometimes, we just have to wait until the right helper comes along to show us a new way.  

Duke―loving the new chair and ottoman...but still hating Monday's as much as me! (taken on 02-25-13)

LOVE―unpredictability

“All human plans [are] subject to ruthless revision by Nature, or Fate, or whatever one preferred to call the powers behind the Universe.” Arthur C. Clarke, 2010: Odyssey Two

Still here!

I am still traveling, but a very unexpected turn of events has occurred.  The basic definition of opportunity is a possibility due to a favorable combination of circumstances.  

An “opportunity” to stay in Winchester for a bit was presented to me two weeks before Christmas.  The “favorable combination of circumstances” being a job I like, a place I like, people I like, and the fact that the Georgia State License Board made a clerical error in my transfer of license by endorsement to their state―two actually.  Those errors would have left me with no work for two weeks in December which would have equaled no paycheck.

Duke playing in the Snow with some furry friends

So, after going home for a week after Thanksgiving and preparing to move to Georgia for the winter, I REVERSED gears on 3 days notice and turned right back around to Virginia.  It was quite the whirlwind to move up here on such short notice―I stayed briefly with one friend who was nice enough to offer temporary residence in her extra cottage.  I knew Fran was not the best place to live during a cold Northern Virginia winter, so I had no choice but to find a semi-permanent place to rent. 

New little rental house!

As of two weeks ago I have settled into a cute little house on the westside of town that I LOVE.  It has a fenced in backyard for Duke.  The cats love it too―though I have recently discovered they developed a bad habit in Fran...  Since they spent most of their day lounging on the dashboard in the sunshine, they now think it is okay to get on counter-tops!  The water bottle is out and rules are being enforced!

Snowfall in Davis, WV

WHITE OUT conditions skiing!

Between Christmas, moving, starting a new job, moving again, and the typical “Lucy speed” pace of life...things have been a little crazy.  I am hoping to get back on track with writing.  There are still many adventures to be had and shared in Virginia.  For instance, this past weekend I was fortunate enough to join my two best friends in WV skiing as over a foot of fresh powdery snow fell on the slopes!  It was a much needed breath of South Carolina air to spend time in my “Happy Place” with my friends.   

PRAY―for good ride.

A good ride.

“If you do not expect the unexpected you will not find it, for it is not to be reached by search or trail.” ―Heraclitus

A beautiful VA trail ride...

My time in Winchester is drawing to a close.  It has been an incredible first stop.  As I started this journey, I felt like a large part of it would involve getting out West. And I do think it will―eventually.  But my next stop is Bainbridge, Georgia.  A little unexpected, yes.

A rather large pumpkin!

Bainbridge should serve me some excellent Winter weather for a motorhome. It happens to be the Large Mouth Bass fishing capital of the world.  Not surprisingly, my Father has already planned a trip to come visit. I have a feeling I will see him a good bit and I would love that. There are sure to be good hunting and fishing opportunities―Bainbridge is very near Thomasville, GA (which is known to be a hotbed for Quail hunting)―and I am excited to say that the nearby Red Hill Polo Club in Tallahassee, FL should be a good place for me to continue my new Polo habit. 

A beautiful farm house I pass regularly...did not want to forget this view!

The change that’s coming up in my life will thrust me into the unknown again: new people, new town, new job setting (not home health this time, but a combo position of hospital, out-patient, and skilled care work―a lot like my old job in Charleston).  Despite the many nods my way of “Oh, you are so lucky to be able to do what you’re doing” I know everyone can relate to the hard part of uprooting every time I move. At least living in Fran (the motorhome) cuts down on the stress significantly in that I don’t have to pack!  The sad part for me is that I have made some really good friends here.  I love Virginia.  I will really miss the Polo, the mountains, the festivals, the rivers, the fishing, the arts, the smell of wood burning stoves, the hot cider, the trial rides, long walks with Duke, and the life I have lived here.  Virginia has given me her best―and I won’t forget her. It was unexpected how much I fell in-love with her.

"The trail" of life winding on down the road...

But as Buffalo Bill said, “I could never resist the call of the trail.” And my journey does not stop here.  Soon it will be time to shout, “Giddy-up Old Fran!”  Time to hit the trail once more.

Duke riding in the truck while I work...He's always ready to "hit the trail!"

LOVE―to play.

“We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.” George Bernard Shaw

Love to PLAY!

I have conflicting information presented to me on a regular basis.  I think life has a tendency to do that. 

In the same week (very recently), I was called “an old soul” by one person while concerns of immaturity were expressed by another.  I will readily admit that more often than not, the accusation of immaturity has been more prevalent than the nod toward wisdom. I believe the main concern at hand by those who love me is that I have held on to my “inner Peter Pan” just a bit too much.

However, when it comes to the LOVE of play, I make no apologies.  I work really hard.  I give 110% to my job for the 50-65 hours a week that involves.  I don’t always do my job perfectly,  but I do always put my patients’ needs first.  So when the computer closes on Friday afternoon, I don’t open it until Monday morning.  That’s just me.  The weekends are time for play!

Dogs teach us a lot―the importance of PLAY just being one thing. Duke in hot pursuit of a bumper...

One recent past weekend was no exception.  Since beginning my travels, I have tried to take full advantage of play.  I have hunted and fished.  I have been learning to play polo.  I have gone to vineyards.  I have paddled rivers. But this past weekend was a “bucket list” weekend.   It involved one of those “you’re insane” kind of activities like jumping out of plane.  Not for everyone.  

So it got me thinking about the why of it all.  Why do I LOVE to play so much?

Specifically, why thrill seeking?  Why does what would terrify some, thrill me?  Why am I not scared?

I am stupid.  I am an adrenaline junky.  I am courageous.  Well...not really any of that actually.  Here’s the admission: I like being scared.

It is my opinion that fear is the emotion we feel that most directly opposes the word lifeless―I dare say even more than love.  It is impossible not to feel alive when you are scared.  When you experience something that evokes fear, it produces the ancient “fight or flight” response.  For me, the feelings associated with that response are the exact opposite of being bored. 

Now tonight I am finishing this blog as I ride out hurricane Sandy inside of Fran.  I am truly scared for the first time in long while.  This is a different kind of scared.  This is not the fun kind of scared―as I am wondering if Fran will be flipped on her side in these strong winds or if a tree will come crashing through the roof.  Luckily the tree that crashed through the motorhome parked here before I came this summer was the only likely prospect within our reach as a potential landing zone.  I’m hoping the other close trees are too far away should they loose their integrity.   

The morning after I realize how lucky I was!

I did say I liked being scared, right? A dear friend jokingly accused me tonight of doing this on purpose.  

“Lucy, I bet you looked at the Farmer’s almanac and saw that it said there would be a hurricane in Virginia at the end of October and thought to yourself, ‘I bet it would be fun to ride out a hurricane in a motorhome’ so you went there on purpose...just for the fun of it!”  

My friends know me all too well.  But no―I didn’t plan this.  And no...I won’t do it again.

A near miss to a motorhome parked near mine.

Mark Twain once said, “To succeed in life, you need two things: Ignorance and Confidence.”  I am sure of both tonight.  One: my ignorance of how powerful this storm was going to be.  Two: my confidence that God is not yet done with me on this earth―so I will likely survive to seek out the good kind of being scared in the form of “play” again soon.  

EAT―It’s stew time!

"Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity".  ~Voltaire

What a wonderful thing food is. It follows seasons. It becomes tradition.  It stirs memories and nourishes souls.  

A good start on Lamb Stew!

One of my favorite things about food is how it becomes an expression of love.  I love you enough, my friend, to cook for you―to feed you.  My Mother comforted me with food when I was sick.  I ordered my favorite meal from her for my birthday.  I came home from college to favorite dishes and was sent back to school with leftovers from other favorite dishes.

In Psych 101 Maslow’s hierarchy of needs taught us all that we had basic, physiological needs: Food, water, shelter, oxygen, and sleep (the latter of which I should be trying to do right now).  Unless these needs are met we are unable to move up the hierarchy to safety, love, esteem, and self-actualization. When those basic needs are catalogued―the ones the allow us to function―food is always listed first.

To feed someone is to love them and meet them at their most basic need.  I think I love that part more than anything about cooking for others.  It is why, no matter how much of a cliche´ it is, when we take people a meal when someone dies in the South, it’s a simple way to say, “I love you and I’m thinking about you.”  

When I was a child we would go “crabbing” every Summer at Pawley’s Island.  We would catch crabs on crabbing lines and in crab traps. Then we would spend hours picking the meat on the back porch while sitting in crickety wooden chairs pulled up to a metal table with newspaper spread over the top.  I would get lessons from my grandmother and aunts each year on how to  perform properly this task.  How to “release the meat” when getting the lump meat from the bodies was taught only once I was old enough and dexterous enough not to destroy  the precious cargo inside the crab body...younger children were only allowed to pick the claw meat which was more of “an appetizer.”  

The whole process―from start to finish―was so involved.  Catch the crabs.  Boil the crabs.  Pick the crabs. Put the meat up in the freezer.  Not to mention launching the boat, packing the cooler so us children would have all the proper provisions, etc.  The summer process was then followed by the winter one...(which is where I was going with all this).  We would take the meat from the summer crabs, thaw it, and then start the process for the Christmas crab casserole (which is a whole other process!).  The crab meat became this symbol of tradition in our family―of how the years would come full circle―but we would all still be together in the same place each year on those two times.

So there it is.  Food is all about tradition to me.  Comfort. Memories. And a hearty goodness that is meant to be enjoyed.  As Voltaire states, a pleasure―and may I add “in every way possible.”  

There's Something 'Bout a Green Truck!
(the name of the wine if ya can't see it)

When you eat you must also drink.  So food is often accompanied by this other pleasure we call―wine.   

So it came to be that on the first cold weekend here, as my dog was sick and I was at home tending to him, I made a good stew.  Oh, how I love to eat a good stew! This concotion was not just any stew either.  It was a lamb stew.  Oh, how I love lamb!  Sometimes I get so excited about food I feel like I must look and sound like my nephew on Christmas day.  “Oh, it’s just what I wanted!!!”  He is so excited and appreciative of each gift.  I will often find myself doing the same thing when eating a good meal as I make my way around my plate.  “Oh, these field peas are the best I have ever had!  What on earth did you do to them?!?”  Then I few bites later I am asking for the recipe for the squash casserole I’m inhaling.  

Enjoyable.  Yes.

So for Fran’s (the motorhome) first big stew I went all out.  I bought a good leg of lamb and made sure there would be an abundance of meat available in the stew―for there is nothing more disappointing than for a dish to advertise a main ingredient but then have only minuet portions of it present.  To a red wine, tomato, onion reduction I added carrots, plump golden raises, the lamb and almost an entire spice bottle of curry.  It was delish I must say...  And more than anything I was amazed by how well I functioned in my little kitchen on such a shoe-string budget of counter space.  Since the bathroom is two feet behind me, it made for nice “spill-over” when I feel behind on the “wash dirty dishes as you go” effort I tried to maintain.  Other than that...flawless execution.  

"It taste so good..."

WORK―Perspective

“Those who think they have not time for bodily exercise will sooner or later have to find time for illness.”  ~ Edward Stanley

So originally the last blog and this blog were ONE blog.  However, it was getting ridiculously long so I divided them into two parts. And rightly so!  This one has its own weight and merit.  While my previous one was focused on  GRACE...this one focuses on perspective in life.

Our need for grace certainly gives us perspective―that is the connection. 

But when it comes to perspective on what is important in life (in general), I can thank my lucky stars that I do what I do for a living.  It is almost impossible for me to forget what is the single most important thing in life!  OUR HEALTH!

I have been hurt recently.  Physically.  For the first time in a long time my health and livelihood was threatened with an injury to my right hand.  For someone that doesn’t get sick...someone who heals those who are hurt―but is never the one in need of healing―it was humbling to feel the fear that came with this injury.  What happens if I cannot write? If I cannot wash dishes?  If I can’t bathe myself, dress myself, open a jar for myself?  I help people learn how to work around these issues all day long.  I try to do it with patience and compassion.  But it has been a long time since I have been there myself. It was in 1993 when I dislocated my right thumb the fall of my senior year in high school to be exact.  But back then I lived at home with my parents.  I didn’t count on myself to provide for my independence like I do now.

This dominant hand injury has been a good reminder of how important one’s independence is.  We have no idea how important our health is until we lose it.

“I have a time limit.” 

A friend and colleague recently stated this realization as we discussed the patient from my last blog―the one who’s tithing check was laid out on her dresser.

Wow!  What a thought!  Do you live your life with full knowledge of this awareness?

I absolutely HATED (during my second rotation as a PT student at a hospital in Columbia) that when a patient died I would be notified of this event by walking into work and seeing a big red line crossed through their name with the word “expired” tagged to the end of it.  Expired? Really?  

Milk expires.  NOT people.

People die.  And when they do―there’s no “do over.”

These are PEOPLE. These are my patients.  These are the people who give me more by fighting to get better than I ever give them in my attempt to help them fight.  PEOPLE.  People who have lives...who have loved each other for over 50 years.  People who have sons and daughters and grandchildren.  They are fighting colon cancer, lung caner, pneumonia, and heart disease.  They have fallen and shattered their pelvis, their hip, or their arm.  They hurt and are struggling.  They will die too soon.  They will beat the odds and live two years longer than they were supposed to.  They will miss a grandchild’s wedding.  They will see a great-grandchild born.  They are veterans who fought for our country. They are teachers who taught in small town schools. They are ill and they are fighting.  They are ill and have given up.

I can’t change one bit of their fate, their genetics, or their family dynamics.

All that happens in our interactions when it comes down to it is this...I may teach them something that helps them get stronger, become more independent, or improve their quality of life.  I may give them a wheelchair, a walker, or a piece of advice that helps them in some way.  But they give me perspective on life―a far greater gift than I give them. I cannot ignore or push to the back burner what is important―what is truly  important.  NOW―is important.  Do it now!  There is a time limit on your life...and you are not the clock-keeper.

“I have a time limit.”

If that were tattooed on your head―backwards―so that you could read it every time you looked in the mirror―how differently would you live your life?

And guess what?  The fact that you have a time limit is as true as the sun coming up this day. Your days are numbered.  Your health is a gift.  Get busy.  And keep perspective.

I had a man (just this day) tell me he thought death was an easy process.  He has been close to death himself in the last two months―experiencing total organ failure.  He had lost his wife 4 months ago to cancer and spent the last few weeks of her life holding her hand before she died.  

“She never looked like it was hard.” He said.  “And I don’t remember ever being in pain or distress when they said I was so close to dying.”  “So I think dying must be easy.” 

I looked at this sweet little man and said, “Your wife was a woman of faith, wasn’t she?”  He said she was.  And I said, “I think that had a lot to do with what you saw.”

I explained that I had seen a fair amount of people die at this point in my life.  Mostly in the skilled nursing unit of Bishop Gadsden in Charleston.  It hadn’t always been a pretty or peaceful process.  Sometimes it had been...sometimes not.  But what I have learned is this...

1. Much like seeing a baby be born―it is the same privilege to be present when a soul enters this world as when it exits this world.
2. It should not shock us that the physical process of dying (much like birth) is traumatic for the body.
3. It is the same miracle to die as it is to be born.

God brings us in.  And he takes us out.  I have been there for both.  And both have moved me to tears.  I think the dying more so than the birth in its finality.

There is nothing more final than death.  And there isn’t much more humbling of an experience to work with people who are close to doing it (dying) everyday. 

We have a time limit.  Ask someone who sick what is really important.  You will find out very quickly how small your “so called” problems are.

What is my point?  Death must be thought about constantly in order to live well.  The obligation of your ability to breathe and your heart to beat is to know that you have a time limit.  

Love. ―requires Grace.

"Graciousness has been defined to be the outward expression of the inward harmony of the soul. Grace must find expression in life. Grace glides on blistered feet. Grace is the refinement of your soul through time."

Love requires Grace―what an understatement.  I absolutely love this quote and hate that I can’t find the author to give credit where it is due (if anyone knows please pass my way).  

I am acutely aware of one very hard fact to swallow right now.  When you love people (be it family, friends, or significant others), you inevitably hurt them and get hurt by them.  That will always be true.

I am clinging to the quote above as what to do when that “hurt” occurs.  The extension of grace is what allows us to get back to a place of peace.  We are supposed to ask for grace and be willing to extend it to others.  I am learning that this appears to be a process I have to do daily―like going to the gym―it must be maintained in order to get the desired results.  Hence the line about gliding “on blistered feet” and the mention of it being the “refinement of your soul” over time.  It is a process.

Grace is the connection factor of life.  It connects us to other important elements like forgiveness, love, loyalty, service, and selflessness.  The ability to extend or receive grace rolls in like a gentle fog when we get perspective on what is important in life. Both when we see our need for it AND when we see how extending it to others can heal us.  Grace must come for forgiveness to come―and both must come for healing to take place.

Grace (by definition) is the free and unmerited favor or beneficence of God.

Grace was manifested this week in moments of having “perspective on life” after having my finger crushed but my flexor tendon spared.  Moments that were followed by even more humbling demonstrations of real perspective when I walked into a patient’s house who had just received a diagnosis of bone cancer.  I saw the expression of her thankfulness for God’s grace when I noticed she had faithfully placed her tithing check on her dresser―like she always does.

I know these things to be true:  I am in need of grace.  I must continue to work on my ability to extend it to others.  And any ability to do so is not of me―but of God through me.  I know this last part to be true because I do not want to be gracious.  I would rather sit and rot in my bitterness than extend grace and forgiveness to someone that hurt me.  I didn’t used to be this way.  This is new for me―this festering.  

My patients cancer diagnosis hit my face like a bucket of cold water.

How can I be bitter?  I am still “in the game.”  I am healthy and I have a choice in this matter.

Maya Angelou once said, “Bitterness is like cancer.  It eats upon the host.  But anger is like fire.  It burns it all clean.”

And so there it is...the pathway laid out before me clear as day.  First of all, I am lucky enough to have love ones. I will hurt them and they will hurt me. When I am hurt, it’s okay to be angry―but I have to move on to grace and forgiveness.  If I don’t, the bitterness (or bone cancer) of life will eat away my peace.

And heaven knows―most of us need all the peace we can get.