Creating Space

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It all started some years ago (and no, I’m not saying how many) when I signed up for Zen class with Fr. Ben Wren, SJ. I’d always had this sense of being “beyond” my physical body, and meditation seemed a way to connect with this aspect of myself. (That, and I’d really enjoyed the fascinating-but-challenging history class I’d had with Fr. Ben. His exams featured fun things like “draw the Eurasian land mass and label it. In Chinese.” OF COURSE I wanted to take his Zen class!!)

At this point, you may be expecting to read that I fell in love with Zen meditation. Well…not exactly.

I loved the class, and loved the challenge – and wow, was it a challenge. Having inherited a swayback from my mom, it wasn’t quite possible to sit with spine straight. Being a college student, my mind wandered – a LOT. (It still does, and I haven’t had that college student excuse in a long time.) I did, however, learn that there was a whole ‘nuther world inside (and beyond) my mind, and I have explored methods of meditation and expanded consciousness ever since.

When working in my chosen profession as a clinical social worker, I often taught relaxation and meditation techniques. That’s when I learned that just about anything can become meditative, depending on how we approach it. Washing dishes? Well, if you think about your long list of chores to do after the dishes are done….mmm, no. But if you think simply of washing the dishes, it can become meditative. It’s (dare I say it) being mindful.

Today, “mindfulness” is a buzzword. So is “being in the moment.” But meditation is an ancient practice, and people did it long before anyone had a name for it. Yet social media would have us believe this is The Best New Thing. It’s even become a bit confusing because there are many meditation techniques and methods.

Something that I found helpful on my meditation journey was guided meditations. Thanks to apps and the internet, there are many guided meditations available – some free, some paid for. I’ve lead many a group and individual in guided meditation, and it is a fun (and creative) method. You’re doing something – but you’re focused. (The big challenge with Zen and similar forms of meditation is to empty the mind. Our minds get bored very, very quickly – a characteristic that social media loves to exploit.) With guided meditations, the conscious mind is engaged just enough to quiet the chatter – and it can be very, very relaxing.

Centering Prayer is another popular type of meditation practice. One chooses a word or phrase with spiritual meaning and focuses on that. As with most other meditation practices, if random thoughts arise, they are observed and released, and one returns to the word/phrase. Examples include “Lord have mercy,” “The Lord is my shepherd,” etc.

“I can’t meditate, I can’t sit still!” I can relate. Fortunately, there are ways to move in meditation, and I’m not just talking about yoga (although that’s one wonderful method to get INTO your body and out of your brain). A walking meditation is wonderful. Take a walk outside and leave your phone behind (or set on airplane mode) and just focus on what you see. Observe. If you find yourself ruminating about your to-do list, make a note if it’s something you need to remember and then just let it go. Return to observation. If there is a labyrinth available in your community, walk it! This is a wonderful walking meditation.

Mantra meditations are similar to centering prayer in that they involve a word or phrase as the focus. I remember talking to several devout Roman Catholics who looked very wary when I talked about meditation. However, praying the Rosary is indeed, a form of meditation. Hey, it’s all good, and we don’t have to use the same terminology.

“I can’t meditate, I can’t sit like they want me to sit.” I was told the proper way to sit for zazen, and was told “don’t lie down because you might fall asleep.” While Buddhist monks may practice for years and decades to get beyond the body’s aches, you don’t need to. Most of us will say “I can’t think of anything except how much my rear end/back/neck aches” and give up. What position is comfortable for you to relax? That’s what you want to do. If you do fall asleep, keep trying. Eventually you’ll get it.

There’s technology out there that will help you to calm your mind. Schumann frequency, tuning forks, hemi-sync , binaural beats… do a search on “technology for meditation” and you may well feel overwhelmed. The good news is that you don’t really need this stuff (although you might be interested in exploring it to see what might work best for you). Personally, I have found the sound technology from the Monroe Institute to be beneficial, even with my hearing loss. Their Expand app has free offerings, and you can find some on their website here: https://www.monroeinstitute.org/blogs/free-meditations

The beauty of meditation is that there is a way for ANYONE to do it. It’s been done for thousands of years without technology. That said, sound CAN help one enter a meditative / trance state. Some people joke about “Ommmmmmm” but humming stimulates the vagus nerve and helps one to get “into the zone.” Drumming, rhythm, chant, music – all of these have been used by individuals and groups to get to an altered state of consciousness.

Meditation is about creating space in your life and in your awareness for silence and contemplation. I think the explosion of mindfulness awareness and meditation apps corresponds with the explosion of distractions in our daily lives. The more distracted we are, the more out of touch we become with our inner selves, and with Divine Love. We must make time for rest, reflection, and recharging. Jesus rested/prayed/meditated often. (Among others, see Luke 5:15, also Mark 6:46 – feeding the multitude was a long day!)

I’m often asked the difference between prayer and meditation. In a sense, it depends on how you define each word. Do you define prayer as “talking to God?” Interestingly, some people say they don’t believe in prayer, because what they ask for doesn’t happen/horrible things happen in this world. But this mindset means that prayer is only a petition, a request. And while there’s nothing wrong with that (and certainly nothing wrong with praying for peace – the world needs all the help we can get!) if one thinks of prayer only as requests, then no, it’s very different from meditation.

In this instance, one might define meditation as “listening to God.” But really? Meditation is just being present. With yourself. With God/Divine Love/Source. With All That Is. Just…being, without expectations, without striving, without pretending. And we all need that space.

Martha’s Blues

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“Are you a Martha, or a Mary?”

How many times have I heard this question asked? I’ve no doubt said it a few times myself. I recently read an insightful commentary (on Instagram, go figure) that touched on the heart of the matter in Luke 10, when Jesus visits the home of his friends Martha, Mary and Lazarus. Martha is busy serving, and Mary is sitting down, listening to Jesus.

I will readily admit to being Martha. After all, somebody has gotta get this s**t done.

The point made was that it wasn’t a situation of Mary = good, Martha = bad. Martha was in her expected role, and provided a great service with her hospitality. She fed Jesus and his followers and made them comfortable and welcome. She provided a safe and welcoming place for the ministry; a refuge from the world where disciples could sit and listen attentively.

The problem was that Martha was anxious, distracted, and focused on something other than Jesus’ message. She was serving, but not with an open heart and open ears. Even something as inspiring and awe filled as Jesus sitting in her home and teaching became something stressful.

Martha did what had to be done, and what WAS the right thing to do. But Jesus did point out, very gently, that spiritual discernment is a “better portion.” There’s a saying “let go and let God,” which reminds us that we DON’T have to try so hard. Maybe we can keep doing what we need to do, but focus our minds more on Spirit than on matter.

Because s**t still gotta get done.

Christ at the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus Jacopo Bassano c.1577, Museum of Fine Arts, Houston TX

I joke that my title at work is She Who Does That Which No One Else Will Touch. Computer headaches, dealing with AT&T (and other assorted technology), tracking down clients who are slow in paying, insurance, HR, figuring out assorted regulatory compliance, you name it.

It’s a far cry from the career path I’d started on a few decades ago: Licensed Clinical Social Worker. I keep my license current and do “a few things,” but life interfered and I found myself in the family business because hey – family needed me.

I’ll be honest – there are days when I throw up my hands and say “WHAT am I doing?” There are days when I just want to run away from the world of management and regulations and go back to being a Social Worker. Please don’t make me deal with nonfunctional technology; can I just go back to dealing with serious mental disorders and a few garden variety neuroses instead?

I often wonder if I’m making a difference or helping anyone in this role, and I start to feel like Martha. Frustrated, overworked, unseen, not enough help and not really able to help. Why did I sign on for this?

Well…because of love. Like Martha, I sometimes need a nudge in the “discernment” department. I do this because I love my family. I love what my parents built, and what we continue. I care about our employees, and I care that we have built a good, supportive place to work. I love those days when I look around and think “wow, we really have some good people here.” We are blessed.

I wasn’t familiar with the website that posted that commentary on Instagram; http://www.qava.tv . A quick online check tells me they are a Christian streaming service, offering a wide variety of programs. Thanks, Qava folks, for this thought provoking commentary. It hit me when I needed a reminder that we all need a balance of Martha’s action and Mary’s attentiveness.

Some years ago I wrote a song called Martha’s Blues, focusing on…well, you can probably figure out what it’s about. Pity poor Martha, she’s got the blues; housework fights forever and you’re always gonna lose. It’s a part of the Women at the Well program, and the last time I performed it was at an event honoring the memory of my late music partner Joshua “Bubba” Murrell. It’s always been one of my favorites from that program, and you can listen to it here. Since Covid, we hadn’t been able to do many Women at the Well programs, and I miss that. I wonder sometimes what it would be like to present the program on my own? I wonder what Martha and Mary would advise?

Holy Week

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Holy Week is nearly done, but I can’t let it go by without sharing this thought: Humanity really doesn’t change.

It doesn’t. In spite of technological, scientific, medical and other advances, people remain…people. Holy Week slaps us in the face with that fact.

Yesterday’s Darling is today’s Outcast. Jesus rode into Jerusalem in triumph, to adoring crowds. He was (and remains) the Ultimate Influencer. One week after receiving a hero’s welcome in Jerusalem, he was crucified. Really, have times changed? He was the ultimate badass that the crowd loved, turning over tables and talking trash to The Powers That Be. The crowds couldn’t get enough of him. A week later, he’d been deplatformed in the worst possible way.

Today, we can consider any number of popular figures, politicians, leaders, entertainers, commentators, etc. etc. etc. and (whether you love or hate ’em) you’ll see how swiftly the tide can turn. This should clue us that human opinions have absolutely nothing to do with facts. (Pilate said to him, ‘what is truth?’ – John 18:38 or paraphrased in Jesus Christ Superstar by Pilate: “What is truth? Is mine the same as yours?” a profound question, and one that has stayed with me for decades.) The details change, but human nature hasn’t.

And really…what is truth? Why are we so quick to proclaim someone a Savior or Messiah – and then turn on them when WE don’t think they deliver like we think they should? It’s a paradox: We think we need someone/something greater than ourselves to drag our sorry rears out of the muck…but then, we reject that someone because they’re not what we expect or think we want. We get nasty and really, really ugly.

Fortunately, there is a Love that will save us from ourselves, in spite of ourselves. Being human is a privilege, a gift, even though it is a tangled, messy, crazy, emotional journey. Never forget that Love came down at Christmas, or the incredible example of love on Good Friday. Jesus joins us on that human journey, and reminds us that in spite of our human craziness, we are worthy of love. And we are loved.

A String and a Prayer

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A String and a Prayer is the title of a cool little book by Eleanor Wiley and Maggie Oman Shannon. I got it years ago during a period where I was having fun with beads. The book is about making – and using – prayer beads, and I was reminded of it as I recently brought home a set of prayer beads that really spoke to me.

Prayer beads have been around for a long, long time. Here in south Louisiana, prayer beads = Rosary. As someone who grew up Roman Catholic, I have several rosaries. I live not far from a place called “The Rosary House,” which carries what may well be the world’s largest selection of handmade rosaries. The folks who work there and make these rosaries are true artisans, and they view their job as a ministry. No matter what your faith, there’s a special energy in anything made by hand, particularly if it has some spiritual weight, so to speak. (Prayer shawls are sort of like that. And all of my prayer shawls come with a bit of my hair, and my dog’s as well. Extra mojo, you might say.)

I was on a meditation retreat, and the bookstore had several mala bead sets. According to A String and a Prayer, “Most scholars believe that the use of prayer beads originated in ancient India with the Hindus…sandstone representations dating from 185 B. C. show people holding prayer beads…” The Hindu beads are called a mala and the strand traditionally has 108 beads. The set I took home is made of greens and golds, with bird-shaped accent beads. The tag read “when women were birds and knew all the songs.”

Clockwise from bottom: new beads “when women were birds and knew all the songs,” red handmade rosary, handmade Anglican prayer beads (made by the Community of St. Mary in Sewanee, TN and a gift from Deacon Diane Moore)

Well. How could I NOT get them, especially with a name like that? It also made me think…we all once knew all the songs, how did we forget them? How did we forget who we truly are, amazing souls enjoying an earthly journey?

I remember my grandmother (pop’s mom) spent her last years bedridden due to heart failure. It broke my heart to see her like that. I was in college at the time, and we lived a few hours away. While she was physically very weak, she was spiritually incredibly strong. Her eyesight was poor, so she couldn’t read or even watch television.

But – she prayed. Any requests we made, she prayed. She prayed my brother through law school, and me through college. She prayed for her family, and I suspect she prayed for patience and grace. Well, she received that in abundance. She was one of the greatest inspirations I’ve had, even though she left her earthly life several decades ago.

Anglican prayer beads aren’t like Catholic rosaries, and no, you don’t count off Hail Marys. I’ve used different prayers (or mantras) with them. The mala is used with mantras or with breath, but I’ve started doing something else with mine.

Each bead represents a person or thing or event in my life that I am thankful for. I name each person / thing, and no, it’s not written down (and it may change slightly each time). It’s amazingly easy to think of 108 (and more) people / things / situations / events that I am grateful for. Yes, I am blessed, and I am truly grateful.

I love it that we have three dimensional, tangible stuff that helps to keep us connected to Spirit. Hey, whatever works, right? Life can get crazy, stressful, hectic. Sometimes we’re so focused on surviving the day/traffic/AT&T headaches/someone’s meltdown that our Divine Connection can get a bit stressed. So…grab your prayer beads. Make a cup of tea (herbal if you’re stressed). Breathe. And say…thank you.

God-Stuff

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We are powerfully creative.

And why shouldn’t we be? We are made of God-stuff.

In the beginning, was the Word. Our Creator spoke everything into being and began the cycles of life and creation that would bring forth each atom, each spec of being, each human soul.

What, exactly, are we made of? Whatever term you want to use for the Divine Creative Mind – God – had only Divine Self. Everything is made of God-stuff, and we are made in the image of that Creator.

We can be active co-creators of life and of our pocket of reality. We always are, whether we want to be or not. I hate hearing the media calling anyone “victims,” for it implies powerlessness.

While some circumstances are certainly beyond our control (sometimes feces occurs), our reaction to circumstances isn’t. Terrible circumstances can take time to overcome, and some cannot be overcome in this world.

Yet – we can decide how to face circumstances.

I remember when I worked as a Clinical Social Worker on the oncology floor of a hospital. I was asked to see a woman who had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and was refusing chemotherapy. My mission was not to “try to change her mind.” Rather, it was to provide another set of ears. Her oncologist and nurses had already discussed the clinical aspects of her decision. I was there to discuss the psychosocial aspects of her decision. Years later, I remember her resolve – and her peace.

She didn’t have an attitude of “poor me.” Rather, she was peaceful, and felt that her quality of life was of primary importance to her and her family. She was also a woman of faith, and knew that life continued beyond the physical.

Her choice wasn’t to lie down and die; it was to live fully for as long as she could. Contrary to what some might say, she didn’t just let life wash over her. She knew that sooner or later, things would get better, and reminded herself of it constantly.

When we were faced with something painful, mom would remind us that “this, too, shall pass.” I remind myself that “things are getting better” because eventually – they do, even though our brains may scream in revolt at times. Working on this mindset also puts us in a mindset of gratitude.

Magically, things eventually do turn around. We recognize the blessings that we do have, focus more on them, and find other things for which to be grateful. Things get better.

Why? Because you, dear reader, are infinitely creative, and made of the same stuff that God is made of.

Image: Solar eclipse, August, 2017 © B. D. Lowry

The Frustrated States of America

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Nope, not a political post. If you were hoping for one – sorry. I’m going to stick with a subject that pretty much EVERYONE can agree on: Technology that is supposed to make our lives easier is actually making it more frustrating.

Pick some tech. Any tech. Whether it’s your phone, your computer, your tablet, your streaming services, your Sl’amazon account, your 5,328 unique passwords that you have to remember, your multi-factor authentication, your facebook page, your company website, your home security system, Annoying Telephone & Telegraph’s abandonment of support for copper cable, your touchscreen on just about anything, your car, your boat’s GPS, your company’s sales tax payments (online only), your regulatory compliance in __________, Alexa, Siri, and even your blasted washing machine…sooner or later, the tech part will give you trouble.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my Instagram as much as the next addict. (Actually, I don’t HAVE an Instagram account. My dog does. She keeps me updated on such things; I just hope she never forgets her password because I have NO IDEA what it is. Probably something like kibble or Iluvsquirrels.) But good GRIEF, as things get more convoluted it gets harder and harder to find Customer Service – especially someone you can actually talk to on the phone. (Unidentifiable accent) Hello thankyouforcalling Annoying Telephone and Telecom mynameis Elvis, howmayIhelllllpyou? (Disclaimer: I’m not putting down anyone who’s trying to earn a living like this. They surely speak English better than I could speak whatever their native language is. On the other hand, I KNOW BETTER than to try and get a job in customer support where I’d have to speak French. Or anything else.)

On rare occasion, I hear a voice that sounds…well, kinda like me. Or a LOT like me (that’s when I call the ‘lectric company, they’re in central Louisiana and while they don’t sound like me, they sound like my cousins in that part of the state and that’s close enough!) But – and that’s part of the frustration – the days when you can get ANY help by phone (regardless of where in the world it’s been outsourced to) are vanishing. At best, you get an automated menu with limited options – and of course, your problem is never one of the options offered (at which point the computer voice says “good-bye!” and disconnects.) And increasingly, Customer Service (or as I prefer to call it, Customer NONservice) is being outsourced to ChatBot.

I’m sorry, but Artificial Intelligence is not that intelligent. I know I’m not alone in saying that my frustration level rises the more I hear “tell me in a few words what you need help with so I can get you to a person who can help!” By the time I’ve spent 5 minutes going through menus for AI to figure out the correct department, I’m pretty frustrated. I get even more frustrated when I get a voice mail saying that the lone human who can help me is “currently away from my desk or helping another customer.”

No. No, you’re not. I’ll bet your on break scrolling through Instagram. Maybe even looking at pictures of my dog, the shameless hussy.

Don’t even get me started on the fact that I now have to set up an account to even look at what a company offers or ask a sales-related question! (yeah, I’m lookin’ at you, Lenovo, and you too, Wix) Even purchasing a movie ticket, subway fare, etc. requires something a little more than cash.

We used to complain about “press 1 for English.” Now it’s “Click here for chat assistance” or – in the case of a certain web services (I’m lookin’ at you, GoD*ddy) provider – “text us for help!” Chat and text “customer service” result in one poor overloaded customer service rep (probably on the other side of the world, being paid beans for each “individual” s/he helps) trying to serve multiple people at once. I’ve wasted many HOURS waiting for answers – at least five hours wasted on a single task, just in this week.

I’m not even counting the looooong minutes spent listening (when I actually talk to someone) reading the script. You know it, it’s the one that goes like this: “I am so sorry, Mrs. (they butcher my last name) that you are having trouble with this and i completely understand your frustration, I promise that I will get this taken care of for you, will you allow me to place you on a brief 3 to 5 minute hold so that I may investigate this issue further with my resources?”

Honestly, I have a problem with dealing with companies that force their employees to lie. 3 – 5 minute hold? HA!! And promise it will be taken care of? Another lie! Grumble about minimum wage all you like, there are companies out there that are compromising the immortal souls of their employees by forcing them to lie like this.

Tech frustration. It’s everywhere. More and more companies jump onto AI as a way to “cut costs” and don’t realize that so many of us are getting overloaded and just plain FED UP with it. What should be saving us time is costing us more time – not to mention frustration. To quote one of the great philosophers of our time, ain’t nobody got TIME fo’ dat!

Merry Christmas!

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Merry Christmas? But…it’s January 4!

Yep! And we’re still in the Christmas season. Epiphany isn’t until Monday, and my decorations are still up. It won’t take long to take them down, as I’ve simplified things over the years, but they probably won’t go back into the boxes until next weekend.

It was a nice Christmas, all things considered. The last few years were pretty lousy – three years ago, pop died. Two years ago, I broke my ankle and spent Christmas recovering from surgery (I won’t say it was “shattered” as my very talented orthopedic surgeon managed to find all the pieces of bone and reassemble them with some heavy-duty hardware), and last year my best friend and music partner died suddenly right before Christmas. This year, we lost mom – which should have made it another crappy Christmas.

But oddly – it wasn’t. Maybe it was because we all breathed a collective sigh of relief that she and pop were together again. Maybe it was because she wasn’t suffering any more. Maybe it was because we all realized that, as hard as it was, it could have been a lot worse.

And maybe – just maybe – this Christmas was a gift from the Holy Spirit.

Sure, we got a little weepy. We missed some people terribly. Mom had left some instructions for some personal gifts, which were given out. I’d like to think that mom was able to see everyone’s reactions. I do know I felt her presence – and pop’s, and Bubba’s – very strongly. Does it take the place of their being there “in the flesh?” Of course not. But because of Christmas – and Easter – we know we will be with them again. We know they are wrapped in love and peace.

And of course, there were some laughs: My brother continued the tradition of the rubber chickens. Once again, his ceiling (and it’s a tall one) is covered with little rubber chickens. It started a few years ago when he ordered a pack of small rubber chickens (you shoot them like rubber bands) from “slamazon” (as my friend Cathy J calls that big online retailer), intending for us to shoot them at one another like the overgrown kids we all are.

I’m pretty sure it was Bubba who first aimed a chicken at the ceiling. Or maybe Harris. Hey! They stick! And so a new holiday tradition was born.

Can you hear it? “Oh, we love to decorate the tree as a family on Christmas eve after we go to church, and then after Christmas dinner we go caroling! What do you do, Brenda?” “Oh, we crank up the air conditioning, build a fire in the fireplace, drink champagne and shoot rubber chickens at each other and at the ceiling.” Yep, that’s my family.

And among all of this craziness is family, love, and the peace of the Holy Spirit. I realize a lot of people struggle with Christmas. I have for years – so did mom; she said that she was reminded of all those she loved who had left this life. I do think she had a better Christmas this year, as did pop, Bubba, and all of our loved ones on the other side. #84 in the Hymnal 1982 sums it up beautifully:

May the peace of the Holy Spirit and the gift of the Incarnation be with you throughout the year. And don’t be afraid to say it: Merry Christmas!

Balconies

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Tomorrow is something unique to New Iberia, Louisiana: Beneath the Balconies. This delightful afternoon is filled with music and a stroll down the town’s historic Main Street, from one balcony to the next as a series of musical and entertainment vignettes are presented. I’ve attended as a guest/audience member before, and tomorrow I will be singing on the balcony at the Shadows-on-the-Teche in honor of my late brother-of-the-heart and music partner, Joshua “Bubba” Murrell. With the exception of one song at his memorial service back in December, it will be the first time I have sung any of “our” repertoire in public, with the prerecorded tracks, in public since his death. *Deep breath*

I’ll be honest – for a while, I didn’t feel much like singing. (If you know me, you know that is HIGHLY unusual.) What was the point? I couldn’t make it through Christmas Eve. This past year has been a beast, with losing Bubba and then mom. Prayer, meditation, and music have gotten me through.

Yes, the “not singing” didn’t last very long. Our friends “across the street” at First Methodist Church invited our choir to join them for a Lenten musical presentation, Dubois’ The Seven Last Words of Christ. This was what I sorely needed to take my mind (and soul) elsewhere. Then, invitations began arriving. “Would you sing for this?” When God can’t seem to get my attention in other ways, God knows that music will always do the trick.

My Creator put something inside of me that won’t be denied. A decent voice, and the drive to train it, practice, use it, and always search for improvement. People sometimes say “oh, what a gift!” Well, the gift is what God gave you in your vocal cords, and remember, God gave that to pretty much everyone. What you do with it is your gift to God. And you know what? God gave EVERYONE things that they love to do, and are halfway-decent-to-pretty-good at. We don’t all have to be “the best” at anything, but “the best I can be” and “better than I was before” brings a lot of joy.

What we choose to focus on to make better, to share…that is our gift to our families, our friends, our communities, our churches. I know some women who are amazing quilters and stitchers (I, on the other hand, would rather go to the dentist than sew anything). My sister-in-law makes incredible artwork in the form of metalworking and jewelry. My husband enjoys fishing, hunting, and always saying “yes” when a friend says “we gotta cook breakfast for this retreat group, you in?” Others have the gift of total listening and acceptance. Too often we look at what we feel we can’t do (or aren’t “good enough” at) instead of what we CAN.

This is, perhaps, what life truly is all about. It’s not always those mountaintop experiences or making huge ripples in the fabric of society, justice and change. More often, it’s regular everyday people who do what they love to do and use it to make someone else’s day a little easier. Tomorrow there will be dozens of people involved in performing, volunteering, cooking, cleaning and serving, and everyone will have fun.

Sometimes we forget that these simple things are most important. Social media can make us feel inferior, small, unseen. We see “influencers” who appear to be shaping the tastes and habits of others. (is it just me, or does anyone else find the fact that we now have an actual noun that describe people who are like, the grownup version of the Cool Kids?)

However you spend your Sunday, I hope you’ll find some time to do something you love with people you love.

A Beautiful Life

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Today was mom’s memorial service. Her – and pop’s – cremains will be interred at a later date. For now, we just wanted to get through this. It has been a long journey; yet I know that we have been blessed beyond measure. Today my brother, our families and I were surrounded and uplifted by love, by visits from people expected and unexpected, and ended the long day with family and friends (and yes, alcohol). A beautiful, loving life was celebrated. And dang, we miss her.

The obituary:

https://www.pellerinfuneralhome.com/obituaries/dorothy-dot-dekeyzer

Now, I’ve pretty much managed to keep it together, but looking at the slides (that I’ve already seen because I uploaded them) makes me cry. And I’m kind of afraid to start crying because I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop. My brother delivered a beautiful, heartfelt tribute. I don’t have his, but will share mine here:

This is a tribute to the strongest, most amazing woman I’ve ever known. And how blessed I am to have had her for my mother. Greg and I hit the jackpot there. For our entire lives, mom was our biggest supporter, cheerleader, tear-wiper and butt-kicker. I would say “and now she’s gone” but she’s not. She lives forever in our hearts, and beyond because – our souls are eternal.

I’m not sure how these things work, but I do believe that before I was born, an angel said OK Brenda, you’re gonna have some challenges, and you’re gonna have some blessings. But the biggest blessing you’re gonna have is love. I have a feeling that Greg had a similar experience.

Mom was born in 1931 – yesterday would have been her 93rd birthday. Some things y’all already know about our mother – she never stayed still for long. I think she was about 13 or so when she learned to drive, but before that she was on her bicycle.

In an era when many women were stay at home moms, she earned her bachelor’s degree in business education from Northwestern State University – where she met this handsome fellow from central Louisiana named Robert DeKeyzer – AKA Sam. They had a strong, loving marriage that lasted for 71 years until pop died 3 years ago.


Together, they build a home and a family. Mom taught for a while, but then Greg came along and she stayed home to be a mom. A few years later I showed up. It was us 4 as a team. In the late 1960s, mom was approached by a member of the school board of St. Joseph school, where Greg and I were students. They’d lost their business ed teacher – would she consider taking the job?

She did, and wound up teaching commerce subjects at St. Joe for years. While some teachers would send their misbehaving students to the principal – or wose, Sister Mary Catherine – for discipline, mom never did. No one dared misbehave in her class. Those who tried soon realized… it wasn’t a good idea. They quickly learned what Greg and I already knew….the softer her voice, the bigger trouble you were in. And of course, there was THE LOOK.

A few years ago, there was a thread on facebook – I believe Robert Larroque started it on the Jeanerette – yeah you right! Page, and kicked off the discussion:


Ro – Mrs. Dorothy “Dot” DeKeyzer, our beloved Business teacher (Typing, Bookkeeping, Shorthand)….no-nonsense, efficient, and always kind. She inspired, and continues to inspire, so many of us. Ro’s sister Lisette said “she wanted you to succeed, and accommodated you….Virginia Edley said that mom was a big influence in her decision to go to engineering school. Louise Brown Derise said “she was the reason I studied accounting. She was an incredible teacher and person!” Troy Rosamond – “I learned more about test-prep from spending quality time with that lady than from anyone else until… CPA prep.”

…and the conversation continued. I shared it with mom, who was shocked. They’re saying that about ME? They still remember? (Well, you know what happens in Jeanerette, stays on facebook.)

Well, SHE remembered. you know those name cards you send out with your graduation invitations? Last week I opened a drawer in the house – and there was a box filled with those cards. Every one that her students sent her – she kept them. She loved her students.

When she and pop started hoh-PAK (at the kitchen table), it was a family affair, all right. Little did we realize at the time how it would grow – and mom and pop were a team throughout it all. She shaped so much of the business. Later, she and pop actually started travelling – road trips to Perdido with their dear friends Jack and Carla Wormser. Carla, you are truly mom’s sister of the heart – I guess that makes you our aunt! Later, she was beyond THRILLED to become a grandmother – Nana to Ian, Roane, Julia and Marie Claire.

I learned SO much from mom, more than I could ever tell you. I learned how to be a wife, a parent, and she sure tried to teach me how to be a lady (some of it stuck, mom, I promise). I learned how to crochet, to sing, and to whistle. Even though she didn’t like to cook, I learned how to do the basics.

Mom also taught us how to drive – and to parallel park. I channel mom every time I tuck my car into a parking space with mere inches to spare. I learned from the best. Greg is sharing a driving story, I’ll share this one: One day, Janice and Marie Claire were heading home from town. There on the Weeks Island Road, a car sped past them. Janice commented “wow, someone’s in a hurry!” MC replied “ mom – THAT’S NANA!” And I will say that in her entire driving career she never ever was involved in a wreck – and she taught us how to drive defensively.

Growing up, she stayed at home until I was about 7, and she and my grandmother didn’t like staying still, so we went to Lafayette a lot. Of course, mom drove. I learned the art of shopping on a budget. Mom had a reputation at St. Joe – “She never wears the same thing twice!” I’ve had more than a few of her former students tell me they were always waiting to see what Mrs. DeKeyzer was going to be wearing that day. Truth is – she knew how to shop the sales and to put things together in various ways with different accessories – and she always looked like a million bucks. It wasn’t vanity; it was self respect – something else she taught us.

In her last months of life, she extracted a promise from Vanessa, her personal care aide. “Vanessa,” she said “please promise me that when I die you will come and fix my hair and put on my lipstick before the funeral home takes me away!” and she made ME promise to call Vanessa and WAIT to call the funeral home (she didn’t quite trust ME to do her hair). “I will NOT go to the funeral home with my hair like Woody Woodpecker!” and we didn’t blame her one bit. When the time came, Vanessa was there, and mom went out in style. Really, it could be no other way.

We were all floored when she was diagnosed with Pulmonary Fibrosis. It was terrifying, and a hard, arduous journey. Mom has always been the epitome of grace and strength – and she faced it just like that. She got her affairs in order, making sure we knew what we needed to know and do. She was particularly concerned about the care of her beloved cat, Buddy, who had been a wonderful companion to her. Ever the perfectly organized soul, she fretted for months about “when” she might “go.” She didn’t want to go around Roane’s or Marie Claire’s birthday; what a lousy memory! She didn’t want to mess up David’s and my vacation. And Julia is moving to Tennessee for PA school at the end of September! And then, more birthdays….Somehow, she made a deal with God and slipped away not long the last person she was waiting on arrived to say goodbye. She’d seen everyone else who was closest, and after Harris had arrived, she smiled and slipped away.

But her work really will never be done. She gave us the foundation, a foundation of love upon which we can only build more love. She taught us HOW to love, and that was the best thing she ever taught. Sometimes her love was toughlove – she always expected the best from you, because she saw what you are capable of. But she loved us with an amazing, incredible love.

We miss her terribly, but wouldn’t wish another moment of her suffering to have her back. Julia put it perfectly: Nana and Pop are now dancing in heaven while Bubba is playing their favorite song.

The Bracelet

/ a samaritan woman / 1 Comment

It’s been fifty years since the Viet Nam war. I grew up in those years, and even though I was a child, I clearly remember family discussions and the close watching of television news. Hanoi Jane was the subject of disgust (still is, in my opinion). The plight of POWs and those listed as MIA concerned us all; the war, although on the other side of the planet, seemed very close and personal. My brother was born in 1954, and drew a low lottery number. When the US finally withdrew, we all breathed a huge sigh of relief (and asked “WHY did it take so long for this to happen?” among other things).

On Memorial Day, we remember those in the armed forces who lost their lives in service to their country. There are some, though, who are classified as dead – but who are still Missing in Action.

We have gotten used to that black POW/MIA flag, but we should never take it for granted. One reminder that has fallen from the memory of most is the POW bracelet.

This bracelet, along with thousands of others, was sold in the early 1970s to draw attention to the Prisoners of War/Missing in Action personnel in the Viet Nam war. The National League of Families of American Prisoners and Missing in Southeast Asia has the history of the POW bracelet at https://www.pow-miafamilies.org/history-of-powmia-bracelets.html

I was thinking about these bracelets recently, and, curious, went digging in my memory banks (and the internet). I discovered that yes, there are still over 1,500 who served in that conflict who are still Missing In Action. Captain Donald Downing, named on the bracelet above, is one of them. I plan to leave this bracelet at the Wall when I am in Washington later this summer.

My brain stirs things up when I sleep, and I know I’d been thinking about our veterans, Memorial Day, and remembering those Viet Nam vets I’ve known. I woke up with a song in my head:

The Bracelet

There’s a bracelet in my jewelry box I’ve had for a long, long time
there’s a name engraved upon it, but that name isn’t mine.
This bracelet stands for so much more than just a date and name
it stands for a family that would never be the same.

This family was told back in 1964
what happened to their soldier, they may never know.
The man whose name’s upon this bracelet never came back home;
he’s one of the fallen still lost in Viet Nam

This bracelet says remember
this bracelet says I care
that there are the missing somewhere out there,
this bracelet says I’m sorry
our country let you down.
Still the search continues ‘til you are homeward bound.

In our nation’s capitol there stands a granite wall
58 thousand who sacrificed their all.
They all left behind families and friends
Pain of loss lingers on for all of them.

They wonder ‘bout the lives that they would never live
they wonder ‘bout the love that they would never give.
For some, their final resting places we can never say,
will they rest in peace half a world away?

This bracelet says remember
this bracelet says I care
that there are still missing somewhere out there,
this bracelet says I’m sorry
our country let you down.
Still the search continues ‘til you are homeward bound.

Every vet’ran knows about the highest price of all
A grateful nation thanks you for answering the call.
There are still the missing – and the search goes on
A promise made that will be kept to bring each lost one home…

Yes, this bracelet says remember
this bracelet says I care
that there are still missing somewhere out there,
this bracelet says I’m sorry
our country let you down.
Still the search continues ‘til you are homeward bound.

    B. D. Lowry copyright 2024

I’m presenting it for the first time on Memorial Day 2024, at the Memorial Day Remembrance Celebration with the Iberia Veterans’ Association. They ask me to participate in their events, and I am truly humbled and honored to do so.

To our Viet Nam Veterans: Welcome home. To all of our veterans: A grateful nation thanks you.