The angel who became my wife

The dedication in my book partly reads:

And for retired Monsignor Arsenio Bautista, a model of joyful holiness, uncle and spiritual guardian of Annie, the angel who became my wife and the mother to Xenia and Marita.

Today, Annie and I walked to Starbucks. It's about a mile from the house. When we started, it was windy, and rainy. We got out of the garage, and closed it. After a minute, I felt really cold. The wind was getting through my clothing. I wanted to turn back. Annie, whose arthritic toes and fingers hurt when it's cold, suggested, why don't we walk around the block first. I agreed. It didn't improve my attitude. Top of the hill, Roy said again, I am cold. Let's go home. She ignored it and said, how about if we walk to the junior high then decide. In short, I stopped my whining, and we walked toward Starbucks. 

To cross the Bothell-Everett Highway to Starbucks, we needed to push the traffic light button. I told Annie I mentioned to my office friends on one of our lunch walks that Annie only hits the button once. ONCE! My friends tried to hit it once, but habit won. Annie hits it only once! I see that as faith! Do you need more proof that she's an angel? She seldom makes mistakes. All her choices are the right choices. But...

She married me in 1972, stuck with me during the hard times even when I was a total jerk. It was hell for her in the first 20 years. Then, according to her, through her prayers and perseverance and patience AND faith, I started turning around. I did not know how to listen (jerks only listen to themselves). I was a standard-issue male: when she told me something, I offered a fix or a solution. She's told me a million times: I don't want solutions. Just listen. So, in 2000, I took and finished a 2-year spiritual direction training at St Placid Priory to learn how to listen to her. During the same time frame, I became an Oblate of St Benedict. That was the start of a more focused spiritual journey that led to this book. That's when I asked her: Are you happy being with me? Finally she said, yes. That she's happy with me made me really happy.

The acknowledgments at the end of my book concluded: This book is a flower that bloomed where it was planted. The garden is my wife, Annie's, spacious and pure heart. My conversion from a self-centered person to a monk-wannabe which she catalyzed with prayer, kindness, and stick-to-itiveness, echoes throughout the book.

Now, there is a downside to being married to an angel. I think angels, being pure of heart, have perfected the art of holy detachment. One afternoon I told her I am creating a list of people I would like her to contact in case I die without warning. (I was serious. I am. I remind myself almost everyday that this could be the day I die.) She looked at me and said, Okay. Same deal when one time I had to go to my monastery near Olympia (a 1.3-hour drive) and I kissed her goodbye and I said: Might not see you again. She said, okay, bye. No drama. Her face calm, voice steady. As if I just told her I was going to Home Depot. Maybe Home Depot is heaven... well, definitely to home improvement guys, which is definitely not me.

Who is the angel in your life? Are you an angel to someone?

From Psalm 34:6-7 -

This poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord,
   and was saved from every trouble. 
The angel of the Lord encamps
   around those who fear him, and delivers them. 

Amen to that!

For Ronna, Wonder Woman

Here's a body prayer session from my book, based on Psalm 139. This is for you, Ronna.

Stand, feet wide and arms spread, inhale and lift up your heart, and say:

O God, you know when I am happy.

Slowly, as you exhale, sag your body down, drained of life:

You know it when I am in the gutter.

Inhaling, step one foot forward and lift both hands to a lunge:

You know well the choices I make,

Exhale and bring your hands toward your front foot, and say:

And the paths they lead to.

Bring your feet hip width apart, inhale and raise up your arms:

Your thoughts go beyond my reach.

Exhaling, flex your knees and reach down and let your head dangle freely:

Your depth beyond all thoughts.

Coming down to your belly, inhale, lift up your head and chest, and look up:

I open my eyes and there you are.

Push your self up and bring your hips to your heels and your head to the floor:

I look inward and there you are.

Come to a sitting position and raise your arms and give thanks:

Thanks for your wonderful gifts.

Lie down on your back, spread your feet and arms and smile:

Because of you, I am wonder!

Then sitting in a comfortable position, be still and silent with the Divine Presence. Just breathing in what is life-giving, and breathing out what is life-draining. Stay as long as you like. +

You have made a lot of people happy during your lifetime. It's now up to us, those you have touched, to continue what you've started.

Long live Ronna!

Hello, Ronna.

After finishing a job, around 7:15 tonight, I went to the hospice to visit Ronna. (see the Any Day Now post). I was signing in and told the receptionist that I can't remember her room number. She looked her up, and said, let me call someone. I am just volunteering tonight. I heard her on the phone. She explained that a friend is looking for Ronna who is supposed to be in Room 7. At that moment, I knew. Of course they wouldn't give me any detail. I am not family. I understood.

I asked if there is a chapel or a quiet room where I can sit for awhile. I was shown the Reflection Room. I sat there. I felt my body surrender to the chair. I felt the weight of this body, held up by the chair. My arms are on the arm rest, my back supported by the back rest. My legs spilling out onto the floor, my knees separate, my feet on their outer edge. I was slumped. Like I died sitting. I connected with Ronna. I felt her presence. And I was taken back to Tuesday when I visited her.

I remember how I said goodbye. I went to her left side of the bed. With my left hand, I touched her right arm laying on her left arm. My right hand was on her hair. I let her feel my presence, and I think she moved to let me know she felt me. A couple of minutes later, I cupped her head and I kissed her forehead. And I said, I might not see you again, Ronna. Goodbye.

Slowly, I walked out of the room, with a heavy heart. It took a while before I was able to drive out of the parking lot. Like tonight.

There is a Portuguese word, SAUDADE (sow-DAH-deh), that is one of the hardest to translate to English. An oblate friend blessed me with this word last Sunday. Saudade. Here's how she beautifully defined it : SAUDADE is the feeling of simultaneous pain and joy at the memory of someone or something loved that is now lost or gone.  It is pain because of the loss; it is joy because of the love. Brazilians would say that there is never one without the other and that the only way to be truly human (i.e., to love) is to be willing to enter into the pain.  Thus much Brazilian music, poetry, literature is about Saudade - the joy of pain.  So Brazilians seek to remember even (especially) when the memories bring pain, because to forget is truly to lose that which was loved; it is willingness to bear the cost of pain in order to love.

The Portuguese "Eu sinto muitas saudades de você" is roughly translated I miss you too much.

I will miss you, Ronna.

I will miss your excited voice

when you tell stories.

I will miss the way you look

straight into my eyes 

when you speak to me,

when I speak to you.

I will miss your attention,

and your appreciation,

your acknowledgement

of who I am.

But I will not miss your spirit.

You are with me always,

here in my heart

where I can always say,

Hello, Ronna.

May you be happy.

May you be at peace.

May you be singing and dancing

With all the saints and angels

As they praise our Beloved One

Forever and ever.

Amen.

Beehive in my heart

Last night, as I was sleeping,

I dreamt - marvellous error! -

that I had a beehive

here inside my heart.

And the golden bees

were making white combs

and sweet honey

from my old failures.

by Antonio Machado, Times Alone

Benedictine spirituality blessed me with a way of prayer that has become a way of listening and reading for me. It's called lectio divina, or divine reading, sometimes called holy listening, usually applied to the Holy Bible. But after practicing for so long, it has become lectio on life. That life is holy and everything I see is an embodiment of God's love for us.

So Mr Machado's poem inevitably brought me to lectio mode. In lectio, one keeps watch for a word or phrase that 'shimmers', that calls your attention. 'Beehive here inside my heart' was that phrase for me tonight. I visualize it. I see and hear busyness in my heart. The buzzing of the bees makes it difficult for me to discern what my heart is really saying to me. It was like having tinnitus in the ear of my heart... There's the marketing of my prayer book. There's missing my anam cara's poems and singing. There's Ronna's impending death. There's my observance of Lent. There's anger at the greed and the suffering it caused all over the world and my impotence to help those in pain. There's the delight in being alone, in prayer, in meditation. Busy indeed. 

So I do some heart-opening poses to be with my heart. Then I sit with the Divine Presence. After a few deep breaths, I settle in. My shoulders move down away from the ears, my palms relax toward the pads of my fingertips. My spine straight but rising like a palm tree from the sacrum. After a few minutes of observing the grounding effect of the outbreaths and holding it for a while, my tears decide to flow. I let it flow for a while. And I sat there, delighting in the sitting in the presence of the Divine. I give thanks.

I read the poem again, and this time, what caught my eyes is the phrase 'And the golden bees are making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures.' I smile. Because I have made so many mistakes. Some in the long past. Some recently. Some just a few days ago. That is why my bees are busy. 

It also reminds me of a passage in Psalm 30 -

You have turned my mourning into dancing;

You have taken my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,

so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.

O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you for ever.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

Any day now.

Ronna was a few days pregnant with Cole when I met her in 2000. I was teaching prenatal yoga. Yes, I taught prenatal yoga. A guy surrounded by beautiful beings with beautiful beings inside them. How close can you get to the Divine?

She attended as part of the prenatal program at Evergreen Hospital. Immediately one is struck by the stature of this lady. Tall, beautiful, with strong yet kind and soft facial features. We immediately liked each other. She liked the words I said during the poses, and she connected with the guided visualizations during meditation. I liked her for the wisdom in her sharing and the authority in her stance. You don't mess with Ronna. But it was obvious she has a heart as spacious as the universe. The image I have of her is of Wonder Woman with her arms on her hips, feet rooted where she stands, but of course, her heart wide open.

During the years, she came to my classes, always complimenting my way of teaching yoga. She was my most vocal fan! Her lively spirit almost hid the cancer cells wreaking havoc in her body.

Fast forward to today. Because of cervical cancer, her health deteriorated. Not without a fight from Wonder Woman. But nature wins most of the time. I saw her today at the Evergreen Hospice Center. What I saw almost floored me. Because she hasn't been eating for the last 12 days, she was reduced to skin and bones. She was sleeping when I came. Eyes half closed, mouth open, breathing in heavily, and after breathing out comes a very long pause. I let my hand rest on her hand. She is warm. 

She'll leave behind a loving husband and 8-year old Cole, whom she loved to death.

Now, I feel sadness, mixed with a little anger. Sadness because a life of joy, hope, optimism, wisdom, and giving is coming to an end. One inspirational being on earth gone. She touched so many lives in the most beautiful, most loving way. A little anger for Cole to not have the other beautiful half of his developing years. 

I also feel joy. For my life to be graced by someone like Ronna is like being visited by an angel of God. How else to describe it? How did I deserve to be visited by a radiant being like Ronna?

I want to come back soon to see her awake. I want to see those eyes talk again. I want to hear her voice one last time. I want to feel her strength through a weak squeeze of her hand. I want to say goodbye to someone I love. And if possible, to be there when she says goodbye with her last exhale.

For you, dear Ronna, the Ancient Psalmist prays:

"I will both lie down and rest in peace;

For you alone, O Lord, make me lie down in safety."

From all those you touched with your verve, with your passion for life-

We love you.

Let their spirits live on.

For a few days now, I have been feeling a sadness and a fear the source of which I couldn't pinpoint. Now I know. 

Mrs Judith Guion was my daughter's grade-school Teacher in the talented and Gifted Program at school. That was almost 12 years ago. She's at hospice care now, and dying of cancer. She is one of my daughter's favorite teacher. Definitely an inspiration for her. And we had so much respect for her. I found out about her condition yesterday.

Now my good friend, Ronna, is dying. Only a matter of days from now. Her husband emailed me just a few minutes ago. Ronna, another grade-school teacher, is one of my earliest pre-natal yoga students who enjoyed my style. She complimented me publicly it was almost embarrassing. She appreciated who I am and what I brought into her life. She boosted my confidence when I was just starting. We loved being together in class. She's tall, and powerful, and authoritative. Visualize "Wonder Woman" standing with feet shoulder width apart with hands on her hips and you have an accurate image of her.

O God of Life,

Why are you taking these good people away?

Mrs Judith Guion, and now Ronna Thomas!

These two touched so many lives

as teachers and as friends.

They spread your gospel of Love, my God.

They were your messengers of Love.

Help me to be like them.

May others be inspired to live like them.

Let their spirits live on.

O God of Eternal Life-

Make their passage and transition to true life

Be as joyful as their way of being.

Let them feel no pain and suffering,

Just your love and comforting presence.

Let them breathe with peace and calm,

Let them greet you smiling and filled with love.

You will call their names tenderly like a lover would, O God.

Hold their hands as they say goodbye to their loved ones.

As they finally come home to you, my Lord and my God.

Amen.

Give us our daily bread

This morning, my wife and I walked to Home Depot to look at doors. Our front door needs to be replaced. At the entrance to the parking lot of Home Depot, we saw two Hispanics waiting to be hired for any job. When we finished looking at doors, they were still there. Still jobless. It was noon by then.

As Annie and I walked home, because of my practice of lectio divina (Latin for holy reading, the monastic way of reading Scripture), I asked myself what is God showing me here? What's the wisdom, the teaching here? What am I invited to do?

And Jesus, as he was teaching the Apostles how to pray, saying "Give us this daily bread" came to mind. Those two guys, exposed to the cold, were embodying that phrase from the Lord's prayer, "Please, someone hire us, that we may have something to eat." While most of the time I eat unmindfully, forgetting that every 4 seconds or so, someone in the world dies from hunger. That's every time I inhale a person dies. Every time I exhale, someone dies from hunger. That's atrocious.

So what is God inviting me to do? First of all, to be mindful of how and what I eat and how it affects my health.  To give thanks to God, and to be thankful to everyone (farmers, harvesters, truckers, grocers, my employer) and the universe (sun, rain, earthworms, soil, air) for bringing this food to my table. I also started teaching Yoga for Hopelink at Studio Be in Kirkland, WA, every first and third Sundays of the month from 7 to 8:30pm to benefit Hopelink.

May all we do, think, and say, be for Love.

Amen.