Don’t forget your passion!

Since I hit age 80, I have been giving more advice—breaking my lifetime policy of rarely dispensing unless requested to do so, or in situations where someone’s wellbeing is directly threatened apart from my two cents worth.  Always having found advice-givers to be highly annoying, I’ve militated against joining their ranks.  But now I’m holding forth because I believe that most anyone’s wellbeing is jeopardized without the following, standard bit of wisdom:  Find a passion!  Don’t grow old without it.  And especially if you live with chronic illness or pain.  Don’t neglect those creative aspects of life that make aging and chronic health issues not only do-able, but downright enjoyable in the process.

I’ve been blessed with many passions:  family, corgi, books, knitting, spinning, music, gardens indoors and out, and painting.  The art is new for me; even ten years ago I did not have the foggiest idea that I’d be able to enjoy this lifelong dream.  God had been saving that one for me to launch when—along with all the other passions—I needed it most.

Most essential to my ortho issues is to keep this body moving.  Sitting for any length of time is a huge challenge; I’ve even learned to stay home from church on the diciest of the “no sit” days.  Lying supine is the second greatest challenge, and for those sleepless nights painting is my great friend—along with prescription painkillers which I take at bedtime.

Art making would be enjoyable enough if it ended right here, in the bedroom corner studio.  But painting has led to a spate of new friendships and activities in our community.  When God moves, He covers every aspect and brings a whole new quality of life within an already excellent life!

Thus I feel not only justified in giving advice, but actually responsible to share.  Don’t forget your passion (s).  Don’t grow old without at least one—especially if your body is less than top drawer!  🙂

Margaret L. Been, February 2015

If art rings your chimes, you can check out my MESSY PALETTE blog:

https://northernview.wordpress.com/

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Ninth Decade Reflections

It’s been a few decades since the above photo was taken back in the days when little girls wore dresses in boats, and life jackets were only known to be used by sailors, marines, or brave souls crossing Lake Michigan in a rubber life raft (something my father actually did in the 1940s, to test wartime outboard motors produced by the company where he was employed).

I have recently embarked on Decade Number Nine!  And so far, it’s great!  Perhaps it’s great because we’ve long been programmed to expect that old age would be horrible.  And obviously, for some it is!  But for one who loves the Lord and trusts Him for every day, life can be good—all the way home to glory.

Since this is a blog dedicated to finding treasures in chronic illness and pain, here are some gems regarding pain that God has bestowed on me in recent months and years:

1)  Pain is relative.  There is always someone who hurts more, someone who is drastically ill, someone who needs my prayers far more than I need to pray for myself!  Or even think about myself for that matter.

I have just printed out a reprint of a letter from the pastor imprisoned in Tehran, Saeed Abedini, to his wife in the USA.  No, I cannot begin to dwell on my pain!

2)  Pain can be a friend.  Pain reminds me to hang back rather than jump full speed ahead into some new and unnecessary responsibility or job.  Pain is that friend who says, “Rest!  Take it easy today, so that you will feel better tomorrow—and more able to do whatever the calendar has in store for you for the rest of the week.”

Pain is that buddy who affirms that I’m still worthwhile in God’s eyes, even though I am not the busy and productive person I was for many years.  This week we celebrated Thanksgiving.  Whereas for decades I fixed most of the meal and set our table for from 18 to 30 individuals, this year there were four of us—actually five, but the fifth is 5 months old and she sat on her mother’s lap while eating.  The meal, company, and conversation were wonderful.  Dishes for four plus a few pans are not overwhelming with two of us, our daughter and me, in charge of washing, etc.  The home is never dismantled or rearranged for two extra adults and a baby.

The day was PERFECT, except that I crashed immediately after our company walked out the door to go home.  All of the next day, yesterday, I was a zombie.  I slouched around around our home, walking like Victor Hugo’s Quasimodo due to pain.  My GI system was down like the early weeks of Healthcare.gov, due to the abuse of 4000 some calories added to my 94 pound frame which normally consumes (and feels full after) about 1000 per day.

“What is wrong with me?” I asked my husband.  “It didn’t used to be like this.  I used to feel fine the day after Thanksgiving.”

Joe just smiled and commented, “We’re old!”

Then my friend, Pain, agreed and said:  “Just go to bed and quit trying to be so productive all the time!  Give yourself a break!”

How delightful it was to go to bed at 3:00 in the afternoon with my knitting, my art books, and Charles Krauthammer’s amazing Number 1 bestseller, THINGS THAT MATTER.  Thank you, Pain!

3)  Pain is nothing compared to the future glory in store for those of us who belong to the Lord Jesus Christ.  “For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”  Romans 8:18, KJV

What more do we need to know?  At age 80, I’m contented—and oh so thankful!  🙂

Margaret L. Been, 2013 

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Chronic Pain . . . the uninvited guest who comes to stay

Many of us experience Acute Pain at some time in our lives:  that pain which comes with injury, surgery, a specific illness, or that happy pain occasion known to the female gender—childbirth.  (Happy despite its intensity, due to the normal outcome of childbirth pain.) 

Acute Pain is frequently unbearable; we cannot stand it—and something must be done.  In fact, nature’s purpose in Acute Pain is to send out an alarm when drastic action is needed.  Thus when my wrist is scalded by steam rising from my teakettle, I rush to the cold water tap and let the water run for many minutes.  I’ve suffered fractures, one in an ankle and two more simultaneously in an arm bone (accompanied by a dislocated wrist).  The ensuing pain and shock from these fractures left no doubt about the necessity for emergency treatment. 

However the most severe Acute Pain in my life was caused by a blocked colon due to diverticulitis.  When someone asks me what that was like, I enter the Frozen Silence Mode.  I pray I’ll never have to go back there, even in memory—and certainly not in conversation, except to comment that I’m eternally grateful for those large doses of morphine administered to me in the ER.  Viva le coquelicot! 

With the obvious exception of childbirth throes, Acute Pain is an uninvited guest—and a terrible one, at that.  Most Acute Pain doesn’t even have the decency to knock on our door, or ring the bell.  Some Acute Pain may come on gradually, but more often it just appears out of nowhere—without warning.  One moment we are living our routine lives, and the next minute there it is.  We hate it, we fight it, and that is exactly what we are supposed to de.  A rude, uninvited guest has no place in our life—and the sooner it leaves, the better! 

However there is another kind of uninvited guest that comes to stay.  This guest may be related to Acute Pain but it is vastly different.  Frequently less intense, it is apt to arrive quietly.  It doesn’t barge in demanding immediate attention.  Instead it moves with stealth, yet with all its baggage.  The quiet guest is prepared to hang out with us in all seasons, while planning to accompany us everywhere we go—gradually, insiduously attempting to wear us down inside and out until we accept its presence and determine to rebuild our lives on its terms. 

The silent guest may go from room to room, hiding in one area and emerging in another.  There are days when we can actually ignore it, but then it surfaces again, reminding us that it’s here to stay.  This uninvited guest is called Chronic Pain. 

Whereas Acute Pain serves a purpose of rousing us to immediate action, the role of Chronic Pain is very clearly to change one’s life—often forever!  And the life change evoked by Chronic Pain can be either dismal and devastating or wonderfully liberating, depending greatly on choices made by the individual experiencing the pain.

I know of sad instances where Chronic Pain has caused people to give up trying to live.  Recently I sorrowed to hear a woman who suffers chronic back (and generalized arthritic) pain say “Life just isn’t any fun anymore”.  I sorrowed because I also have these considerable pain issues—a legacy from my maternal grandmother.  I watched my Grandma Rose relax, accept, and live stalwartly through arthritic pain—and also my father and sister, my only sibling.  They never said, “Life isn’t any fun anymore” because they chose to affirm life to the very end. 

My sister was wheel-chair ridden for several years before she died, yet she never lost her verve and her spectacular sense of humor.  Ardis always was a raving beauty, and she maintained her classy (and classic!) grooming throughout her most difficult days.  She went through life without a hair out of place, literally and metaphorically speaking.

It’s evident that some recipients of Chronic Pain will either hate it or (as odd as this may sound to some of you) love it!  Since Chronic Pain is my legacy and inescapable reality, I have chosen to accept and love it and it has loved me back a thousandfold.  Here are just a few of the ways in which my uninvited guest, Chronic Pain, has changed my life—and consequently loved me back:

1)  Chronic Pain has lifted me from preoccupation with my own physical health and well-being.  When attacked by Acute Pain, even those of us who know that God is in charge of our every moment are apt to forget in the stress of the moment and pose the question “Why me?”  But to respond affirmatively to either Acute and/or Chronic Pain we can more properly ask “Indeed!  Why not me?” 

We realize that we are a part of a continuing human story which devotes vast chapters to documenting suffering in terms of illness and pain.  So why not me?  Why should I be exempt, and how could I ever have presumed to be so unique as to never suffer while on this flawed and fallen planet earth?

2)  Chronic Pain (along with Acute Pain as well) has rendered me extra sensitive.  My pain has made me a kind of “raw nerve” which responds to the pain in others:  a family member who suffers incredibly hard living conditions, a dear friend who is recovering from an accident resulting in surgery and much pain, those families in the aftermath of the Boston tragedy who are enduring incredible sorrow and loss.  When these people come to mind, I sometimes stop in my tracks and weep—and I pray.

3)  Chronic Pain has caused me to grab ahold of life and hang on with all my strength—deriving joy from every moment, and responding with gratitude for every person in my life, and every blessing—large or small.  My pain is not whom I am.  I am not dominated by my pain.  LIFE is whom I am—abundant life in Christ.  I am dominated by Him, and His abundant LIFE!!

4)  Chronic Pain has motivated me to seize a dream and bring it to fruition.  All of my life, I have loved the visual arts—especially painting.  Schooled in music and language, I pursued those arts with a passion throughout the years—yet I thought that paints and paint brushes were for other people, those who had “talent”.  

Then 7 years ago, with the silent, insiduous onset of chronic pain I needed a new dedication.  Something snapped inside my head, and I decided to forget about “talent”.  The time had come to do what I secretly wanted to do, which was to paint—even if my attempts would result in total failure.  The result of this resolve has been a pastime yielding joy which defies description—a pastime which has amazed me by drawing me closer to others, as well as piloting me through many a pain-punctuated day or night.

Occasionally I hear someone attest that pain, either acute or chronic, is not God’s plan for believers.  I certainly agree that God did not create pain.  He does not make us sick, or cause us to break a bone or live with ongoing infirmity. 

But does God allow pain?  Most certainly, yes—ultimately for our good and His glory.  Some Christians will promote the idea that healing is always God’s will, but I fervently disagree with that!  There are cases where God works mightily (and especially!) through our illness or pain—in unprecedented ways.  

The world views illness and pain to be handicaps and less than desirable, but those are not Christian views.  We live in a fallen world, yet God has brought redemption and restoration in the midst of those conditions which reflect the fall!  What better witness to God’s creativity than a joy-filled life in less than “ideal” circumstances?

The Apostle Paul’s infirmity was not removed from him, regardless of Paul’s prayers.  Instead, God said, “My grace is sufficient for you.”  And God says the same thing to us today.  His grace is sufficient, to turn what some consider to be a scourge and a curse into a beautiful state of existance—living graciously above the circumstances of poor health or Chronic Pain.

I have shocked a lot of people by stating what I fervently know to be true:  that for the Christian believer, illness and pain are Holy Ground.  Of course all of life is to be Holy Ground for us.  But when we reflect God’s peace and serenity in the midst of what the world considers to be undesirable and unpleasant, we really are claiming Holy Ground. 

Some of my friends pray that God will heal my Chronic Pain issues, and I appreciate their concern.  But I never, never pray for my own healing.  Of course God could heal, if He so desired.  But at my age of nearly 80 years, I know that a much more appropriate prayer is, “Lord, help me to live joyously and victoriously on this Holy Ground of Chronic Pain, which you’ve entrusted to me.” 

A curse or a blessing?  Chronic Pain will be whatever we choose.  I love the pain which God has allowed me, the pain which is constantly blessing me by loving me back.  It’s Holy Ground! 

Margaret L. Been, ©2013

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Pushing my limits . . . once in awhile!

A book worth owning and re-reading many times is YOU DON’T LOOK SICK!  Living Well with Invisible Chronic Illness, by Joy H. Selak and Steven S. Overman, MD, MPH. 

With humorous as well as profound insight, Joy Selak writes from years of learning to live well with interstitial cystitis and undifferentiated connective tissue disease.  Dr. Steven Overman writes from the perspective of Joy’s physician who assisted her through painful and potentially discouraging times.

In this book, Joy Selak shares the strategy of “stepping out of the box” to do something which will be ultimately exhausting, yet so enjoyable that the effort is worthwhile—perhaps even a therapy in itself.  In Joy’s case, she attended a high school reunion weekend which entailed flying from Seattle to the Texas gulf and staying with girl friends at a beach cabin for three days. 

Needless to say, late nights and a full schedule of social activities were to be a part of this weekend.  Joy had not gone anywhere without her husband for years.  Being physically compromised, she tired easily.  Spells of extreme pain and brain fog were not uncommon, and the prospect of a social weekend seemed daunting, but she longed to spend time with friends she hadn’t seen in years.  So Joy stepped out of her box, and made the trip.

The weekend was so enjoyable, and Joy fared so well in the midst of it all, that she began to wonder if she really was ill.  But when it was over, while flying home, she experienced the predictable result.  She was simultaneously slogged with brain fog, total exhaustion, and debilitating pain.  Yet Joy concludes that the weekend had done her worlds of good.  She would recuperate at home, and she’d have photos and memories to enjoy forever. 

Joy H. Selak writes, “I have since learned that my experience is not an uncommon phenomenon.  It seems that sick people, when completely engaged in a beloved activity, can sometimes temporarily transcend their symptoms . . . . perhaps a huge wash of pleasure endorphins overwhelms the illness . . . .” 

Inspired by Joy’s book I followed her lead on the above-pictured occasion last April, when I agreed to hang some of my paintings in a local show and sale.  It was only a one-night event, but it would be a late night—late for me, that is.  I’m notoriously an “early to bed” person; early bedtime is a survival tactic for me.  But my husband and one of our daughters helped with setting up and dismantling the show.  The evening was fun, complete with photos and memories.  I rested the next day.  

My own term for stepping out of the box is: “pushing my limits”.  I did this again, just last weekend, when I went on a road trip from SE Wisconsin to Toledo with family members.  For starters the trip was a test, because it involved sitting for five hours one way.  Of course the driver, our son, would gladly have stopped to allow his mom a break.  But stopping to stretch on interstates and turnpikes is nearly out of the question.  For five hours my husband and I laughed and bantered with our son and daughter-in-law, and I knitted like there was no tomorrow.  I passed the first challenge beautifully and the scarf I was making grew in the process.

Challenge number two occurred when I saw the twenty-five stairs we would be climbing (several times in forty-eight hours) to our granddaughter Nicole’s apartment in Toledo.  I took a deep breath, put my head down so that I would not see the stairs ahead, and climbed—successfully.  (Going down was a bit more jarring, but I did that also.)

Thus the weekend flew, without my being overly aware of the challenges.  I stayed up late for two nights in a row, slept in a hotel bed (actually very comfy), ate far more than usual (I did feel some flack from that one), shopped on my feet (antiques shopping is always delightful), attended a beautiful Christmas concert, and thoroughly enjoyed the return road trip—five hours of listening to our son’s IPOD full of old tunes I’d nearly forgotten, and pop artists whom I’d enjoyed with our children years ago:  The Kingston Trio, Herman’s Hermits, Simon and Garfunkel, and Neil Diamond.   

Finally home!  Yes—I was exhausted.  But I unpacked and went to bed early with a heating pad, a glass of refreshing ice water, pain pills, and a head full of pleasant memories.  The only less-than-happy factor was that, because we’d arrived home on a Sunday, we couldn’t pick up our doggie at our vet’s boarding facility immediately.  I had to wait until today, Monday morning, to collect my precious baby. 

I agree with Joy Selak.  It can be theraputic to step out of the box and push one’s limits—once in awhile!  🙂  

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

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Brain fog, anyone?

Being an upbeat person, I typically focus on blessings and benefits in the midst of chronic illness and pain.  But it has occurred to me that I should mention a few aspects which may not seem to be a blessing at the time.  One of these is “brain fog”.  Since I’ve had occasional encounters with this side effect, I can assume that others have as well.

Among other prescriptions, I have been given a long acting muscle relaxant for spinal, hip, and pelvic nerve pain.  All is well when I remember to take this pill in the late afternoon.  Since it is a slow release medication, it will kick in at the precise time when I want to go to sleep in the evening.  Then I have a nice long night of slumber in which the medication provides ongoing comfort—without which the night hours would be restless and stressful for me.

However, now and then we are out in the afternoon or early evening and I forget to take the muscle relaxant until close to bedtime.  That is always a mistake, because when I get up the next morning I’m greeted with brain fog.  The pill never began to work until deep into the night, and it continues to do its thing when I am moving about and getting things accomplished the next day.

The result is a temporary “spacy-ness” and a bit of confusion.  Normally my sense of humor comes to the rescue, and I can laugh at these side effects—knowing they will be gone in a few hours.  Genetic programming has given me that wonderful gift of being able to laugh at myself, and personal experiences which some people might find terribly embarrassing frequently crack me up.

But there is an exception to my hilarious response to brain fog.  When I’m miserably ill with a sinus infection, nothing seems funny to me.  On days like that, I could probably cry during an old Abbott and Costello film, or feel totally “down” were I to view The Three Stooges.  (Just a little hyperbole!  🙂 ) 

My perspective goes haywire when I’m sick with a fever and sinus pain, and consequently silly little things loom disproportionately large in my head. On those days I have learned to rest, and just listen to the music of life and the people around me.  Those are the days when I need to look at the calendar to know what’s in store for the rest of the week.  Those are the days when I need to make concerted mental notes about exactly where I am leaving each pair of glasses when I take them off. 

Those are the days when it’s best for me to knit the simplest of patterns.  I currently have two knitting projects in process:  one rather tricky but smashing patterned cape in colorful stripes—possibly tantamount to our Old Testament Joseph’s famous garment, and another—my tried and true potato chip scarf which I can almost knit in my sleep.  The potato chip pattern is tremendously handy on sick-sinus-plus-brain-fog days.

Margaret L. Been, 2012

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Much praise!

I haven’t entered much on this site in recent months, because there hasn’t been anything new.  But praise is always a priority.  I am tremendously grateful for the medical attention which my husband and I have received since we moved to Southern Wisconsin.

It was nearly two years ago that my husband suffered a serious accident requiring numerous surgeries which were commingled with ongoing coronary artery issues.  Now, with a list of 14 pills and an inserted pacemaker/defibrillator, he is doing well—congestive heart failure notwithstanding.  He tires easily, but who doesn’t in their 9th decade on earth?!

Since we moved to our new home 3 years ago, I have had 5 surgeries—2 of which were major.  One of these was elected due to untreatable spinal pain, and the other major surgery was in response to a severe GI track emergency.  And now I am doing well, also.  For some of us, pain will be a given for the rest of our lives.  But pain can be treated, and mine is—beautifully. 

There are people who have the same kind of pain as I have, yet refuse medical help—opting, rather, to spend vast sums on alternative treatments.  They say they are being “helped” but they still have the same pain as before.  That sounds oxymoronic to me.  And these people are seriously limited in their daily activities.  Their lives are dominated by pain.

My life is dominated by JOY, and PRAISE—for the Lord who has given me an abundant life, for the many people and activities which I enjoy without reservation, and for the fact that I don’t have to be dominated by pain!

©Margaret L. Been, 2012

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More about prescription meds . . . .

At the risk of playing the same old saw, I feel more needs to be said about prescribed medication for issues of chronic illness and pain.  I’m convinced that I need to say more, because nearly every week I hear some pain sufferer say “I would never take prescribed pain killers!” 

That statement would go unquestioned by me, except that it normally follows a lengthy dissertation on how much pain that “someone” is continually experiencing—pain which severely limits the activities and lifestyle of the individual who is suffering.  A person who can barely hobble about with a cane or walker, and wears a continual frown and other facial signals of pain and exhaustion, may justifiably be challenged on the subject of pain medication!

I know some individuals who can barely hobble about even with mechanical aids, yet applaud themselves for not “using drugs”.  These people have undergone years of “treatments” by alternative practitioners—costly treatments which are not covered by insurance.  Constantly, I hear praise of the naturepaths—nebulous statements such as:  “SO AND SO is a nationally acclaimed fibro specialist.”  My answer to that one is, “Nationally acclaimed by whom?”

Or “My therapist has written a famous book on back pain.”  I question, “The therapist may be famous, and the book may be famous, but has this person helped you—considering all the money you have poured into his (or very likely her) alternative practice?”

Too often claims of consistent relief are fleeting and vague—whereas admissions of chronic pain grow despite the years of treatment.  Yet these same sufferers will shudder and roll their eyes at the suggestion that they see a medical doctor who specializes in pain management and rehabilititation—a specialty called physiatry.  (That’s physiatry, not psychiatry.) 

According to Wikipedia, “The major concern that Pain Management and Rehabilitation deals with as a medical field, is the ability of a person to function optimally within the limitations placed upon them by a disease process for which there is no known cure. The emphasis is not on the full restoration to the premorbid level of function, but rather the optimization of the quality of life for those not able to achieve full restoration.”

For some uncurable medical conditions such as my herniated lumbar discs, scoliosis, and pelvic arthritis, physical therapies have only served to augment the pain—a huge “no-no” with spinal and sacral issues; we are always to stop short of increased pain.  “No pain, no gain” may sometimes apply to athletes with pulled muscles, but never to us “spineys”. 

Other alternative measures can periodically produce a bit of comfort in people who actually believe in those measures.  The mind is a tricky thing!  But the comfort is short lived—except in cases where pain is acute rather than chronic.  Acute pain may disappear on its own–inspite of the spurious alternative “cures”. 

Many chronically pain ridden folks go on to complain (or boast!) of renewed severe pain shortly after their expensive alternative (dare I say “quack-ish”?) treaments are finished.

The keywords in the above Wikipedia quote are “function optimally within the limitations”.  My pain management physician explained how this applies to me.  With my prescription meds, taken as prescribed, I’m able to achieve the highest possible level of function—lumbar and sacral issues notwithstanding.  I’m able to walk with moderation, garden, spin my wool, prepare meals, play my piano, make soap, and enjoy a morning of visiting.  Extra rest is required most days.  But I’m able to go places, see people, entertain guests, and do many things I love to do.

Without my prescription meds I would be like those unfortunate friends who barely hobble about with a cane or walker and consistently experience increasing pain and disability.  I might also be complaining (or boasting) about pain.

As I have stated here before, chronic pain which goes untreated—pain without helpful medical intervention—is now considered to be a disease.  The side effects of untreated chronic pain are overwhelming, severely limiting, and frequently resulting in depression or even early senility.  If you question this, please GOOGLE “The side effects of untreated chronic pain”.  A perusal of just a few of the references which surface might change your life!

Those of us with chronic pain issues have a choice.  We can live fully while gratefully accepting all the medical help we can get.  Or we can resign ourselves to weary, lackluster days dominated by relentless untreated chronic pain. 

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

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A creative passion. . . don’t grow old without it!

The most essential factor in aging peacefully and enjoying life despite infirmities is the knowledge of the Lord, in the person of Jesus Christ.  Knowing that Jesus died on a cross to pay my sin debt, knowing I am loved by God and made righteous is His sight by the death and resurrection of His Son, knowing that Christ lives in me by faith to enable all that will ever be needed for my life—these truths resound in my soul and provide joy and comfort every moment that I live.

Beyond that, we have choices to make and as we grow older this becomes more blatantly evident.  We can choose LIFE, up until our last breath when the Lord takes us home to our blessed eternity with Him, or we can refuse to celebrate whatever life we have left—preferring instead to focus on our physical limits.

All the photos on this entry represent something that most anyone can do at any point in life—regardless of formal education or the state of one’s health.  Painting, reading, knitting, caring for house plants—and many other creative pastimes as well—do not demand great physical strength.  Even if one hasn’t grown up doing these things, they are probably within reach for at least a few minutes every week. 

But one has to desire a leisure time occupation.  One needs to develop a passion about something—hopefully many “somethings” in order to grow old contentedly, despite the drawbacks and limits that we inevitably incur as we age.

Recently I had a sad conversation with a woman my age who is in exactly the same physical shape that I am in.  Like me, she has a disintegrating spine, arthritis in her knees and pelvis, and considerable pain requiring daily medication.  Like me, she grows exhausted by the end of each day and welcomes an early bedtime.  Like me, this woman is a Christian; she has the certainty of a beautiful forever.  Like me, she has family members all around her—in fact she has her own living quarters with a sister and brother-in-law who love her dearly.  She has privacy and companionship at the same time:  the best of both worlds!

But unlike me, this person has nearly given up on life.  Eight years ago she claimed that her life was no longer “any fun”, and now she is even more discouraged.  She has no interest, no leisure hobby to deflect attention from her misery.  My heart goes out to her.  I decline from going on about how exciting and wonderful my life is—every moment, every day—even on the “worst” days in terms of body pain.  And yet I wish I could share, and in some way influence this woman to find some pleasant pursuit.

My heart goes out to anyone who suffers from discouragement due to physical limitations.  I share the Good News of Jesus Christ whenever I can.  And I try to express by example, that LIFE IS WHAT WE MAKE OF IT!   When we have people to love, medical care, and the material resources we need, we have the potential for a good quality of life—albeit at a slower pace than we formerly enjoyed.

This woman needs a passion in her life—something she loves (and can financially afford) to do.  Painting, knitting, and reading are available—the first two at a reasonable cost, and the latter at no cost at all assuming we can access a library!  I’m blessed to have had musical training as a child, so my piano is also one of my passions.  I have a computer and a background of writing so I can share in words.  But even music and writing are skills one can acquire to some degree later in life, without childhood training.

The longer one waits to launch an interest which could be a lifeline in later years, the harder it will be to begin.  If I could tell young wives anything—aside from encouraging them to love their husbands and children—it would be this:  find a passion, more than one if possible.  I would tell people of any age or circumstance to find something interesting and creative that can be done at home, without abandoning responsibilities or zoning out on relationships. 

I would advise anyone to find a corner of the home in which to indulge a passion:  a basket of yarn and some needles in a corner of the living room, a place for a few books at the bedside, a few indoor plants to nurture, or a card table somewhere in the home for a palette and brushes.  One hour a week, or even less, may be all the time one has—but that is better than no time at all!

Constantly I hear tragic refrains :  “When my children grow up, I’ll learn to crochet”, or “I don’t have time to read”.  A comment which really bewildered me was, “If we ever buy a home with a loft, I’ll take up painting.”

How sad, how ridiculous!  I recall raising our six children, and always insisting on a little corner of the kitchen where I could keep my typewriter.  My knitting bag fit most anywhere, in any room.  Books have always been everywhere, all over our home—for my husband and me as well as for the children.  Our first (very used!) piano was a parlor grand, and we lived in an 800 square feet tract home with several small children.  Needless to say, this instrument took up a lot of our living room—about 1/3rd to be exact.  So what?!!!  Our children loved playing UNDER the piano.  A grand piano makes a wonderful fort, tent, a place for coloring book and crayons, and a great spot for a little person’s nap!  When we view our hobbies as lifelines and survival necessities, we realize that they are non-negotiable.  We must and will find space and time for them!

When one has never made space for a passion, physical infirmities will easily become the main focus of his or her life as the years compile. Of course it is never really too late to start a new activity, probably barring a career in ballet or opera.  But the longer we wait the more difficult it will become to find an all-consuming source of joy in a hobby or interest which will carry us through the difficult years ahead.

If I could tell the world, I would say, “Start NOW”.  However there is one more hindrance which can delay our progress:  those self-defeating words, “But I don’t have any talent.”

There I plead guilty.  Much of my life, I had a desire to try painting and a passion for the visual arts.  I had so many other hobbies and interests, that I was never bereft of excitement and avenues of creative adventure.  I wrote, played music, did fiber arts, and read, so my life has always been overflowing with delight.  But beneath it all was an idea the I would definitely paint—if I only had the talent!

Ha!  Finally, six years ago, something snapped.  I decided that talent was not the least bit necessary—I was simply going to have fun.  The rest is a history of reading many books on watercolor art, studying great artists from books and on my computer screen, and familiarizing myself with art history—plus practice:  sketching, experimenting, and painting nearly every day.

I’m certain that I’ll never hang in Le Louvre, or in any other famous museum.  BUT this summer three of my watercolors will be exhibited for six weeks at our local art gallery in Delafield, Wisconsin.  These three were juried.  We were told we could submit five, but no more than three would be selected (due to available space ) if we were accepted.  I thought it would be a miracle if the jury selected even one of my paintings; however three were chosen.

I still know that I have no great talent, but also know that with diligence and dedication I can learn a lot.  And I know that, although acceptance for a gallery show is wonderful, it is the DOING that matters—the working toward a goal and learning, little by little, month by month.  If I like a painting that I’ve done, it doesn’t matter much whether or not anyone else does—or whether or not anyone else understands what I’m saying through my work.  I paint for myself, to please myself, to stretch and grow, and often to surprise myself.  Any other affirmations that may come along are simply added attractions!

As long as we are on earth, we have a choice.  We can choose to believe in the one and only God, the Lord Jesus who died and rose for us.  And we can choose to celebrate whatever we have left of life on earth.

A creative passion . . . don’t grown old without it!

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

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Sometimes we surprise ourselves!

My husband and I love to go to bed early, with our books.  There is scarcely anything more enjoyable than a long evening with nothing to do but relax and read—especially when the body cries out for a rest.  Fatigue is an ever present friend for most of us who have chronic illness and/or pain, and we are wise to heed the directives of our fatigue—the main one being REST!

However, I’ve learned to make room for those extras which mean a lot—those activities and interests which add texture and richness to life, regardless of how I feel.  One of those extras is my art.  God has given me this passion as a kind of lifeline, an ongoing distraction from physical issues.  Many women my age can talk of nothing but their health or the lack of it.  I try to avoid social occasions where I know the conversation will dwell on health issues, and instead I gravitate toward the artsy and bookish groups (most often consisting of younger women) where discussions are enlightening, inspiring, and upbeat.

My art has navigated me through many a sleepless night—when, rather than lying in bed hurting or taking another pain pill, I get up and immerse myself in a piece of work.  These “pieces of work” have accumulated to comprise a large inventory of paintings over recent years.  I give some paintings as gifts to family members and friends who have shown an interest.  And much to my surprise and joy, some professional artist friends have encouraged me to display my work publically, in art fairs and shows.

So last week I stayed up way past bedtime, and participated in a local show and sale in a community about five minutes from our door.  Attendance was light, and I didn’t sell anything, but it was an enjoyable social evening with stimulating conversation and delightful companions.  Of course I was exhausted the next day, but that fatigue was worthwhile; it enhanced my life and I will definitely try another show another time.

One comment made concerning my art, surprised me!  A woman said, “Your energy shines from your paintings!”  Now I’ve received encouraging comments before, but this one floored me and I’ve mused over it considerably.  Energy indeed!  What energy?  Most days I don’t think I have any energy!  Yet there must be something evident in my paintings, to cause such a comment.  There must be an energy that by-passes our physical condition, and rises above our circumstances.  When we remove our minds from our illness and pain, and instead consider our soul as well as spiritual needs, sometimes we surprise ourselves!  🙂

Margaret L. Been, ©2012

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Loving each day!

The steroid shots in the facet joints didn’t help a bit.  Now what?  I reviewed the next option—nerve ablation—in the previous post.  If that is not successful, and perhaps in lieu of nerve ablation, we may try a surgically inserted pump which dispenses medication internally on a schedule.

Meanwhile, I am loving each day.  Today has been as mellow as a Scott Joplin rag.  It is March, one of my favorite months for its capricious personality and the fact that it brings more strong sunlight even though the temperatures may still hover near winter. 

Joe and I sat in the Southern exposure today and inhaled, soaked up, and rejoiced in the sun.  I left off the face makeup earlier, because I knew I’d want nothing to block the UV rays on my skin.  Yes, I do have occasional skin cancers, one of which was a melanoma.  No, sunbathing is not negotiable.  There are some things we simply have to do because they are vital to the soul!

A great-granddaughter came for the afternoon, and we did art.  She made a painting which is now drying.  I’ll mat it for her, and she’ll receive it completely ready to frame.  Brynn had a wonderful time painting, and began by enthusiastically mixing all the colors together.  When she saw that the result was brown, she handed the paper to me to rinse off.  Fortunately, we were using Yupo paper and I could return the paper to its original white. 

Her next rendering was an abstract in shades of green (which Brynn joyfully mixed herself from blue and yellow).  She embellished her work with drops of rubbing alcohol which I showed her how to squeeze from a medicine dropper, onto the wet paint.  It’s always so delightful to see the paint fan out into shapes and “creatures”—kind of like squiggly things under a microscope. 

Almost five years old, Brynn is a wonderful companion.  When her art work is ready, I’ll display it for her on my “Messy Palette—growing through art” blog — http://northernview.wordpress.com/ .

Tonight we will meet our son Eric, and his wife, Cheri, for dinner at a favorite restaurant.  A great closure to a perfect day!  Whatever happens to this body of mine is in the Lord’s hands.  He has provided me with good medical care, and more constant joys and blessings that I can begin to count.  The body may not feel so great, but “It is well with my soul”!  🙂 

I’m loving each day!

Margaret L. Been, ©2012  

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