Art Suke, 1958-2009

Our dear friend Art died yesterday morning, after a long and drawn out struggle with ALS, (Lou Gehrigs Disease) resulting in loss of motion, speech, body function, and some dignity as well. He spent the last four months in hospice, cared for by many good friends,visiting out-of-town family members and an incredible nursing staff. The faithful visits by those who ministered to his body and soul was an amazing thing to witness. Art was well loved and will be missed from our lives.

I am married to Art’s best friend Bob, and as such my role was the same as it has been through their friendship -- somewhat peripheral. I have tried to support Bob by caring for some of Art’s needs, and allow Bob the time and space to do whatever he felt needed to do with his dear friend. I have found the last few months to be the most difficult, with ever increasing demands for personal care for Art,and the fact that I don't deal with illness and suffering well. My heart is too soft in some ways, and a bit stoic in others. Still, he was loved to the best of our abilities by our family -- our children’s ‘Uncle Art’.

There was something about Art that drew me, and held me in an outer circle of influence, sometimes moving closer for certain times such as his visits to our back porch for a cigar with Bob, or Sunday dinner with the family. Art was larger than life, loved to run in races, play good golf and spend time on the lake in his boat. He enjoyed the good life with his friends, yet was sometimes independent and hard to pin down.

Now that he’s gone, I feel a little odd, a little unemotional. I haven’t cried yet, and I wonder when I will? I told the kids about his passing after they got home from school yesterday afternoon, and they were strangely silent -- I expected some words, but I have a feeling that they too were feeling numb. We knew for a long time that he would eventually die, but now that it’s upon us, we are in disbelief.

Bob is processing things differently than I am, and that's normal for us. I want to talk about it, he wants to internalize and hold it together. That's just who he is, and admirable and strong.

Bob says he’s always wondered why Christians don’t celebrate the passing of one of their brothers or sisters into the presence of Christ? Why are we so sad? We should be happy for them and what they are now experiencing for themselves. I know what Bob says is true, and on one hand he’d like to feel like that, but on the other hand he’s really hurting inside too.

Dealing with death is so surreal and unsettling, and there never seems to be the right words to say, or the right actions to take. And things other people say and do can grate on you too. As a young adult, I remember my parents being strangely and almost overly comforted by death, and saying certain things that just didn’t sit right with me. Things like, ‘her testimony during her illness was amazing’, and ‘it’s a blessing that he has gone to be with the Lord… no more pain and suffering and so on.” Man, that bugged me then, and I don’t want to speak like that now, especially to the kids.

Why must we spin it into something good? It hurts to lose someone from your life… yes, that’s the selfish reality, Art is gone from MY life, and I miss him and want him back. Yes, it’s good and right and a blessing to know that Art's suffering is over, and that his faith means that he is 'in a better place', and I believe that I will see him again some day. But for a time, can’t I just be sad and mad and wish him back again with us?

If only our culture was better equipped to deal with death, and to deal with it in a way that isn’t so stuffed down or glossed over. I envy the cultures that wail and cry and scream… and get it all out, and then move on, when the grieving has run its natural course. Or those, like the Irish, that have big parties - wakes - and celebrate life with laughter and good beer and dancing. Our 'Canadian' grief is more like a slow leak in a rubber dingy, it can easily swamp you if you don’t take care. If only the hole were big and the air gushed out quickly, then at least you could swim.

It’s been a long time since someone close to our family died. And it’s been an even longer time since we’ve been present for the days and plans leading up the the final good-bye -- the very first time for our kids. I hope that walking through this process of death and funeral, and being up close with the individuals most effected, will allow our kids to see the reality of what has happened, and that we can talk openly about their fears and sadness and grief and help them to process things in a healthy way that allows them to honour Art, express their pain, and find the strength to move on.

I’ll be preparing the guest room tonight… actually, it’s Graeme’s room that he will have to vacate potentially for out of town funeral guests. And even that is an opportunity to be part of something greater than us, and more personal. Having a grieving friend or relative in our home might help all of us to process and truly believe that the overwhelmingly tragic has happened;

That our dear friend Art Suke, age 51, lover of life, family and friends, died.

A legacy of words

As I said yesterday, I'm putting together a special gift for my mom. I thought a collection of writing by the members of our family, simply bound in a booklet, might be something that she would appreciate. So, I've been digging around in the basement boxes, through old letters and documents and photos and finding some unexpected treasures.

At first the book was going to be a female thing… but I know now it's got to include the male writers in our family as well. And today's blog is me sharing a couple of gems with you.

The first poem is by my maternal grandmother… written in 1927. I have the original tattered piece of purple paper with her poem written in what appears to be fountain pen. Wow. Here it is,

How

The weary ones had rest,
The sad had joy that day,
and wondered ‘how’
A plowman singing at his work
had prayed
‘Lord, help them now.’

Away in foreign lands they
wondered how
Their simple word had power
at home the Christians two
and three had met,
To pray an hour.

Yes we are always wond’ring
wond’ring ‘how’
Because we do not see
Someone, unknown perhaps
and far away
On Bended Knee.

Chrissie Robinson
1927

The second poem is by my younger brother, Joel Clements.

Memoir

We walked through the fields,
saw lines
where the plough had been,
and followed the furrows
as they snaked behind the hill.

We listened to the wind
and heard
how it tickles dry leaves,
and tells of crickets
in the cat-tails.

We eagerly inhaled the country
into our city lungs,
tasting summer
in the dust
of the dry August heat.

We breathed the air,
filled with fragrance.
It brought fading thoughts
of our childhood
not long passed.

Chasing kittens
in the musty darkness
of the loft,
among sweet scents
of fresh cut hay.

Now we chase our dreams…


Why does it always surprise me when I see predestination in things… that there might be a pattern or a plan to my life and the choices I make, still has a way of catching my breath and stopping me up short. My search in the basement revealed poetry, letters, books and a love of words in past and present generations in my family. My daughter is also a wordy girl… why is that such a surprise to me?

Anyway, today I'm just resting in this place of knowing that I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing and the 'writing on the wall' is more obvious than ever before.

Lesley-Anne

Mom, girlfriends and God

Only a couple more days until Mother's day… and that window of sending something before its too late is quickly closing. I know I've got to get my package off 'express post' if I have any chance of honouring my mom this year. Why I always wait until the last minute, I have no idea. So, I'm working away today at a meaningful little gift for Mom this year, and I hope that she feels loved when she receives it.

I've come to recognize that my mom and I will never be best girlfriends, and although I'm OK with that, there are times like Mother's Day that I wish it were the case. Mom and I connect on some stuff, but not everything, and certainly not the heart level stuff that I share with a few of my other friends. Mom and I can talk about the weather and other people for hours (not gossip, but facts), but as soon as it becomes personal, well, the conversation lags.

Mom is a wonderful woman, a hard worker, a great cook and baker, a lifetime supporter of mothering, a loving grandmother, but she just isn't my girlfriend. Too many years of history are there between us for us to be light and fun and silly together, I guess. So, the visits can be tense without the humour nor the heart connection.

So, I have to love and accept my mom and our relationship for what it is and what it is not. And I have to be thankful that there are other women in my life, both young and old, that make my life rich and fun and liveable. I would be lost without them.

This morning I had the opportunity to sit with a young girlfriend of mine and just shoot the breeze over a cup of americano. We sat in the window of the coffee shop, looking out at life on the street, and talked about stuff like friends, and jobs and the economy. An hour later, we hadn't solved anything much, but we had talked about a lot. Then we headed off to whatever was next in our days.

Girlfriends are one of God's best inventions, I think. I know I'm not saying anything new in this, but girls just listen better and understand better than guys, and so I want to say another hurray for girlfriends, and daughters and mothers and sisters… and the times when these are combined.

My dear husband just isn't wired to give and take like a girlfriend would. He tries hard to listen and then he presents his solution and I always take offense to that approach. I know he wants me to be happy and wants to solve whatever it is that I'm trying to share with him that is making me unhappy. But, I just really want to talk, to vent… nothing more than that most days.

Girlfriends empathize better, their body language is better, their silences are better timed, and when they speak it's not about the solution. Often it's about their life and how they handled, or didn't handle, something similar. And so many times there's laughter involved… even if it's allowing me to laugh at myself for being way too serious. For whatever reason, I come away from these conversations feeling better. Nothing has changed in my life circumstances, but I feel like I'm part of a special forces unit that is somehow, together, able to take on the world. Wow, that's pretty amazing to feel like that.

In the words of one of my wise girlfriends, "The sooner we get that our husband isn't our girlfriend, the better off we will be!"

In a way, I think the same potential for healthy emotional living that comes from girlfriend time, also comes from the time I spend with God. I can share EVERYTHING that's going on inside me without any fear at all of being rejected, being fixed, being misunderstood, being the odd girl out. God can take it all from me, and he gets me even more than my husband or my girlfriend or my mother is ever capable of. But, I forget that, and settle for other relationships to make me feel better and even tend to become needy of those people sometimes when I start to feel cut off or lonely. The silly thing is, God is here with me ALL THE TIME… and I ignore him so often.

I'm going to get up from this computer, put on my walking shoes, and take a brisk walk with my dog and with God. I'm sure we'll have a great talk (not out loud or people might think I'm nuts), and when I get back home I know I'll have a new perspective on things. Only it won't be the perspective and feel good kind of thing that I already have after my morning girlfriend coffee, which already has me energized. It will be a fresh understanding that the God of the universe, my friend, has it all under control and that I can just relax in that knowledge for another day.

Peace, out!

Lesley-Anne

a little background…

I'm thinking it might help to know a little bit of my history at this point… nothing too detailed, but just a general idea of who I am and where I'm at.

About 18 months ago my menstrual cycle stopped. I was 45, and not expecting to be cold turkey into menopause. But, I was. I began to experience all of the symptoms that you have no doubt heard about, or even experienced yourself if you are with me in this phase of life… hot flashes (a tingling feeling in my head followed by blood rushing through my body and face - like being embarrassed all over), night sweats and sleeplessness, weight gain (not a lot but enough to be frustrating), moodiness, lack of focus, lack of desire, irritability (yes, even more than usual!), and I went to my Doctor to investigate what next steps there might be for me as I walked through this change of life. The Doctor said it was just a matter of managing things, and making adjustments as necessary.

OK, I thought, and I did a little bit of research (talked to my Mom and various friends) to find out their insights, what worked, what didn't, and proceeded to make some adjustments to my life, including walking more and eating less, wearing cotton and in layers that I could easily remove when necesary, and lowering the expectations I had for my productivity in lots of areas. The symptoms came and went, and things were going well for the most part, except for the difficulty in focusing on tasks, or completing them in a timely fashion. And, the overall feelings of anxiety and depression were sometimes quite strong.

And, all this 'mental' stuff was and is going on in someone who is supposed to be filled with hope and joy and all the other trappings of being a 'woman of God'. It wasn't the first time I've found that depression and faith are polarized, but here I was again… feeling ashamed, on the outside looking in, embarrassed to share the truth of what I was going through for fear of being 'too much' for those around me. So, I began to withdraw from relationships, and spend more time alone. (YIKES - not the best choice really)

Again I sought 'medical' help, and ended up finding some great nutritional supplements that are still helping me to regain some of my energy and vitality again (Macaroot). Some days are better than others, and there are even stretches of good days where I'm not even aware that there is this new reality for me… I feel like the old me those days. But, most days are different and I'm still trying to figure out what my new reality is.

All this to say that I'm tired of pretending that all is well all the time, that I've got it all together, and that being a Christian is the answer to everything.

I need you to also know that God is my foundation in life -- he really is. I believe that God is close by and understands and provides, but that is not a bandage solution for me. I don't think it's fair to the rest of you for me to say one thing and then experience another. How much worse things would be for me without God in my life is hard to say (probably a lot worse)… but to say that all is well all the time would be a lie.

So, my passion being writing, and my purpose being to let my life be an open book, I decided to write my way through this time of my life… sharing the ups and downs and realities of these days with you. If you catch me preaching, forgive me for that, and if you catch me being a wet blanket, I hope you can forgive that too.

What I simply want to be is real. I'm tired of pretending, hiding, and making excuses for who I am.

This is me. A sometimes suicidal mama. This is me with God. A sometimes suicidal mama with God.

Maybe somehow my life experience will help you?

Lesley-Anne

It's so simple

The garden in spring has a way of calming. Dirt, water, sunshine and the promise of new green shoots seem to work some miraculous thing in the soul and even out the highs and lows of mood swings for me. It's cathartic in the garden.

So, after arriving home from a thought provoking service at church, I headed outside to do some weeding and watering, and just find a head space that was more about the simplicity of working hard than anything else. So I thought, until the little girl next door stuck her adorable little nose through the fence and said, "Hi, friend". And I had no other choice but drop my tools, take off my gloves, sit down by the fence and talk to her.

"It's my birthday," she said. "I'm 5." "Wow," I said. "That's really getting old." And I sat and she stood at the fence and we talked and talked for quite some time. Then her sister joined us, and my daughter Claire joined us, and all of us kept talking about simple little things like favourite colours, and favourite animals, and birthday presents, and what we did the other night when the power went off and things like that. It was a very sweet time… four girls talking through the fence about simple things.

Don't you get tired sometimes of thinking about not-so-simple things, about the serious nature of life, and decisions, and things to work on and figure out, and what's for dinner and do your kids have clean socks? I do.

Don't you wish that you could laugh more and play more and be light and simple, like a little girl in a purple dress who dances on the fresh mown lawn in the sunshine?

Alone again, (soon please)

I'm a little odd, I think. I love to be alone with my own thoughts, and whether that happens inside my home or outside on a long walk, I value quiet, peaceful surroundings. Yet, too much of a good thing is… too much, and I find I can get lonely. Then I bounce to the other side of my odd personality where I also like to be surrounded by crowds of people, like at the sidelines of soccer games, or even sitting in the coffee shop alone, but surrounded by people. But again, not all the time.

So, does that make me an introvert or an extrovert? Can a person be both?

I think I'm an introvert, most days. I choose to be alone a lot, and enjoy it most of the time. I find people to be complicated, and being with them brings all sorts of complications like communicating in the right way, having the correct tone of voice, ensuring that my body language is accepting and not rigid, being flexible, being loving, being kind, appearing interested in what they are saying when I'm really not. Why is this so difficult for me, you ask? I don't have a clue, but I clearly recognize that sitting in front of my computer and emailing a 'nice' little note to someone is so much easier that being with them. Not relationally healthy maybe, but easier. And, I guess I'm in for easy some days.

But, having the life I have, and that being full of husband and kids and their friends and their dogs and cats and hamsters, the inevitable interactions happen and thus the need for some kind of communication. And then I'm faced with the most difficult two times of the day… (usually with the kids after school, or the husband after work) when I seem to forget how to open my mouth to speak… or how to think of something interesting to say… or even how to listen well to what is being said. It's like brain freeze, only it's longer lasting!

And then, in the middle of trying to figure out just what my personality needs and how to make it work in a world filled with other people and other personalities, my home and my world is suddenly infiltrated by a certain person who doesn't seem to have a clue about personal boundaries! I stop thinking I'm odd, and begin to think I'm crazy or soon will be if this person doesn't get a clue, or better still, stop talking! Without sharing any relationally damaging details, I'll just say that this person brings out the very worst in me… and there is absolutely no escape… they get up before me in the morning, talk while I'm on the computer, talk while I'm on the phone, talk through my favourite TV show, and talk on into the night as I finally get up off the couch and head to the quiet of my room where I can think and most importantly, breath again.

So, what does that make me? Selfish? Angry? Confused? Well, yeah, all of those, and as much as I'd like to figure out why, I simply have to get through this time of intense interaction with as much grace as it takes to survive and without any relational collateral damage, either to them or me.

Introvert or extrovert, we are all creature of very strange tendencies, preferences and habits.

What a difference a day makes…

So, it's been an up and down week… and not that one day is up and one day is down, sometimes it's almost an hourly variation. At this point I'm wondering both why it's been this way, and if you can relate? So far today it's been up and the sun has been adding to my feelings of overall well-being, that and some time spent with a good friend over a cup of coffee.

Another friend told me lately that a chemical is released when women are in each others company… something called 'Oxytocin', that actually causes us to feel better in a scientifically proven kind of way. So, with 'O' flowing through me, and sun shining on me, I can say that I'm feeling pretty good as a result!

The other thing that has me up today is being able to recognize how God uses people to do his work. Yesterday someone needed me when I was in an emotional place to give, the day before that the same person drew from their God reserves to lift up my failing spirit. And I see God at work orchestrating it all.

That's it for now… off to walk the dog and enjoy the first real spring day in ages. I know the red-wing blackbirds will be singing in the marsh, and I might just hum along.

See ya!

LA