On a Walk Through a Cemetery

Voices came to me as soon as I stepped out of the car. Looking around, I saw that mine was the only car parked on the pathway. Scary. I also saw that I was the only person standing in the area.

It was a windy afternoon. The talking I heard must have been people’s voices carrying on the wind from the nearby businesses’ parking lots.

This was last Sunday, September 15. I had been looking for something to do and realized I now had time to go do what I always wanted to do-walk through a cemetery and read the tombstones. I thought while the weather was nice, I’d get a little exercise and entertainment combined, plus a history lesson.

Where I chose to go, in Spirit Lake, Iowa.

I went there for those above reasons, but also to try out an aluminum foil technique that I had read about in the Coon Rapids Enterprise newspaper. With a damp sponge or a small flat brush, it is possible to emboss tombstone engravings on to a thin sheet of aluminum foil.

This looked interesting, so I saved the clipping.

As I walked (with sunscreen, hat, and my sunglass readers), I searched for good candidates. The heat became sweltering, so I aimed for the trees and the shade.

The ground was hard and uneven, but still well kept up and mowed. It looked like a lush green lawn in the distance. Not wanting to risk a stumble, I had to watch my step because of indented areas and little hills. It was another opportunity to keep me sharp, paying attention to my surroundings. Vigilance keeps me on my toes!

A few familiar names caught my eye, but no connections that I knew of.
Then I saw a last name of a person who is now very sick.

Was this a premonition of what I was fearing?

Or a prediction of the near future?

I tried not to think about that and moved on.

I focused on what I came here to do. I experimented with a foil casting. The wind made it difficult to hold the foil flat, so I tried a very small section. It worked! However, I hadn’t planned a way to transport the foil sheet and keep it from wrinkling up, which would erase some of the transfer.

Next time, I’ll bring a cardboard portfolio (2 sheets of large cardboard, duct taped together at the top and one side so I can slide the foil into it).

My eyes saw new things here, so it was a success. I’ll go back and try the foil casting again. A brother-in-law’s grandparents are buried here (his mother grew up in Spirit Lake). I can search for that grave.

I’m sure to see a few more that touch my heart.

Here are some from this excursion:

Whose? When? I want more information. Still, its simplicity makes me think.

Fascinating life summary. He Filed the 1st Claim on West Shore of West Okoboji.

I know and love someone who fits this description.

Shirley

On Caring for Mom in Hospice

It’s been more than 10 years since this episode in our lives. I’ve been thinking about another little story from that time that I can not write about now because I don’t have all of the facts. While looking for that story, I found this one.

I feel that time’s poignancy often, as both Mom and Marty have passed away (Mom in March, 2014 and Marty in Oct, 2014).

Here’s what I wrote on 3-29-2014:

I woke up this morning thinking about our last days with Mom, in our family home in Carroll, IA.

Specifically, I was thinking about my brother, Marty, reading out loud to her from a children’s book. He had randomly picked it up from a stack of books in his basement. It was about a mouse family in a garden setting, which made us adult children laugh.

He held her hand, and caressed it sofly while he read. It was so comforting to us to walk by and see him and hear him doing that. It was also nice to go in and sit in a folding chair by him for a few minutes while he read.

My younger brother Marty was going through his own cancer treatments. He knew this was serious. However, he always had a way of lifting us up with humor and lighthearted topics.

Then, I was doing dishes and singing softly to myself “Who’s the one who tied your shoes when you were young and knew just when to come and see what you had done? Mama, oh Mama.”

Singing and BJ Thomas always soothes me.

Shirley

On Praying

Entry door handles, St. Michael the Archangel Church, Munich, Germany, 2014

A few years ago, when my friend Teri asked me to pray for a special intention, I responded with, “Yes, of course, my every breath is a prayer.” She thought that was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. This made me wonder where those words came from. Did I hear it, or read it somewhere? Or, was it original to me?

Growing up Catholic, I know the prayers to say. Some of them are the Our Father, Hail Mary, Bless us O Lord (before meals), and the Rosary for really big wishes from God.

A simple prayer we used to say often around the house was this: “St. Anthony, St. Anthony come around, something is lost and it must be found!” It usually worked.

While Dan and I were raising a family, our prayers were somewhat by the book, memorization and instruction. Going to Mass was expected and we all went together.

Later, when the kids were teenagers, I felt myself transitioning and praying with deeper meaning and more frequency. Some of it was in short bursts as they were leaving to go to school, or a job, or a game or a RAVE (scary thought). I’m sure they never witnessed me stepping out on the front porch and making the “Sign of the Cross” as they drove around the corner.

When my parents became sick in 2011, at 79 years of age, and passed away months later, it was so life changing. I transformed my praying to the uncomplicated “May God be with us” and “Thank you God for being with us.”

It was easy to say, and I said it so often, that it became an enormous comfort, and it still is. This personal, silent prayer is a way to practice my faith and get me motivated sometimes when I don’t want to do a “must do”.

I find myself saying it as we are discussing things of life (or death) at family reunions, or in the grocery store aisle with a favorite friend. I say it silently when a loved one goes away, and before I go away. Often, I ask Mom and Dad to be with me also.

My Grandma S. used to say something like, “See you next week, God willing.” At the time, I thought that was so depressing to hear her say that! Did she think she was going to die in the next few days? Now, I actually think it was her prayer showing trust in God’s plan. She was so joyful and grateful for each new day.

Proof that Dad is still with us, and the reason for Faith.

Dad’s favorite fishing place, Nelson Park, in Iowa, now has a bench to memorialize him. On the day it was installed, my brother, Marty, took this photo, because he liked the trees and the still water. It was only later that he saw Dad’s face reflected in that calm water (upper right from the bench, wearing a hat and sunglasses).

So, as I get older, I may be praying even more because there is so much to pray for. I just hope I don’t start saying “God willing”. I don’t want to scare the grandkids.

Shirley