A hand to hold on to

I showed up on the final day of hospice volunteer training and took the same seat I'd occupied on all the other days I'd attended - front row, inside aisle. Our facilitator mentioned the small pad of blue paper that had been left for each of us, and asked that we set it aside for an exercise later in the day.

I picked up the little blue pad of paper and flipped through it with my fingertips. An exercise that included little slips of paper? I just might love this, I thought.

Toward the end of the day, we were instructed to tear the blue pad of paper apart and spread the pieces out in front of us so we could see each one. There were 20 of them, and I methodically laid them out - five across and four rows down.

We were given instructions on what to write on the pieces of paper. First we were to write five values that were important to us. Then, five hobbies we enjoy. Then, five possessions we held dear. And finally, five people (living) who are special to us.

"Uh-oh," I realized. "Just because it's paper doesn't mean it will be fun..."

Once everything was written down, our facilitator began to read a story. The point of the exercise was to allow us to appreciate what hospice patients go through, and he began to read...

It began with something like, "You're drying off from your shower and find a lump you've never noticed before........ You make a doctor's appointment......... The lump is larger by the time you see the doctor..........."

And then he said, "Take one of the slips of paper in front of you and crumple it up."

Gulp. I didn't like where this was going.

The story line continued with tests run, diagnosis given, treatment administered and hospitalizations. With each stage came instructions to "take three slips of paper and crumple them up" or "take two slips of paper..." until we were down to our final five pieces. The five slips of paper remaining in front of me were my people: Doug, Carrie, and my three siblings.

Everything had been stripped away - my hobbies, possessions, and even the values I held dear no longer mattered. I sat there, staring down at the last five slips of paper with the names of my people, my own handwriting barely legible through my tears. As he read through the final paragraph I prepared myself, but nothing could have prepared me for him to walk by, reach out and grab one of my slips of paper without my permission. My sister Valerie. Her name was gone in a flash. Not everything is within our control.

I'd been so proud of myself for having maintained a strong demeanor through the course of the hospice volunteer training. In that moment I felt so vulnerable, so raw and so stunned. We had to remove two more pieces of paper, and in the end I was left with my loves, Doug and Carrie.

There wasn't a dry eye in the room, and for what seemed like forever there was just silence. We each had a deeper understanding, and I gained a sense of renewed commitment for being a hospice volunteer. When everything is stripped away and we're at the end of this journey, having a hand to hold onto will be all that matters. And if a loved one can't be there to hold a hand during someone's final hours, I will be honored for them to hold mine.

Yes. That's what I'm going to do.

♥

This weekend, our turtles, and the heat

Oh my goodness, it is HOT in Arizona!

♥

Welcome to summer in the desert. Our air conditioner ran constantly all weekend, and yesterday's high in the "Valley of the Sun" was 118°F (47°C). I will try super hard to not dwell on our crazy heat over the course of this summer here on my blog, but this weekend was brutal in terms of weather. The silver lining is that the sun is shining and our skies are a really pretty blue.

For the past several months I have been asking Doug to install drip lines in our turtle pen. Now that summer is upon us, we really needed to make that happen. I had such a cute plan in my head, and Doug moved forward without me and...well...bless his little heart...what he did wasn't really the same as what I had in my head. {I know, I know. Poor Doug.} This weekend seemed like a really good time for me to learn how to hook up drip lines and bury them right where I wanted them, according to the plan in my head. So the photo above is Casper, walking under a drip line before I did my digging.

But first, there was this:

Friday and Saturday I attended hospice volunteer training at Hospice of the Valley. I was in a class of about 25 new volunteers and we learned about boundaries and ethics and that we are not allowed, under any circumstances, never ever ever to administer medication. So, I'm pretty sure I won't be dealing with medication.

This building is just east of Mercy Gilbert Hospital, and this corn field is just east of the parking lot:

I stepped outside during one of our breaks to warm up. Ha! The air conditioning in that building was so cold that I wore a sweater both days, and had to go outside to thaw out. Anyway, I thought it was cool to see a lush field of corn still amidst growing urban construction.

Carrie and her crew came over Saturday night and brought dinner for Doug's Father's Day celebration. She made a yummy batch of spaghetti and meatballs, and spent some time playing pool with Doug. Oh, and she also brought a pan of brownies that we topped with vanilla ice cream and sprinkles. I love the relationship that she has with Doug, and he loved being celebrated as her father figure. ♥

So, back to the turtle pen. Over the past week Whiskers has decided to be a meowing alarm clock at 4:30 a.m. which is extremely annoying, but to my benefit yesterday. I really needed to be outside at sunrise in order to get my time in before it got ridiculously hot outside.

I'll admit to being fairly grumpy at the beginning. Why didn't Doug just wait for me before installing those drip lines? Whyyyyy... And why did he choose yesterday morning to meet his brother at the archery range to shoot their bows? Whyyyyy... Well. As it turned out, it was good for me to learn how to put those little connectors on the drip lines. And since the turtle pen is my realm, it was good for me to dig and bury the lines and know exactly where they are for my ongoing future reference. And since my Taurus spirit craves all things earthly, it was really good for me to dig in the dirt and put things right where I'd pictured them in my head.

Plus, it was fun that my little Casper turtle was really curious about what was going on in her habitat. I had to be very mindful where I stepped because she was out and about checking out what was going on as I dug and buried and moved things around. Rexy stayed hidden while I played, and I've already see him out this morning, cruising around the perimeter assessing the changes.

I planted more dichondra grass seed (see the green in the photo above?), and I also threw in a couple of sunflower seeds to see if they'll sprout. Time will tell. The little red marbles will eventually disappear under the thick grass that's to come, but I love the way they look for now.

Doug arrived home at 8:30 with breakfast sandwiches from Starbucks, just as I was finishing up with my work in the dirt. I was in much better spirits when he came home than I was before he left. :o)

I spent the remainder of the super hot day inside, taking care of laundry and drawing mandalas. I was on a mandala roll this weekend! I created four pieces that I was able to photograph to use for promoting my upcoming mandala workshop in August. Whiskers, the meowing alarm clock, was close at hand.

This week holds more extreme heat outside, with me remaining calm, cool, and collected on the inside. Eh-hm. Gosh, the heat can cause some interesting irritability and random unreasonableness. Sounds like a job for my yoga mat...

Peace out, blog friends.

Be cool.

♥