This is the anniversary of our pup, Owen’s death. I posted “A Day from Hell” in my blog. So many dear friends wrote, called, came to offer condolences and support.
A different kind of death
Yesterday we had a different kind of death here. One of our beautiful evergreens succumbed to the 50 mph winds. It was 25 years old. Looked healthy on the outside, but when it blew over, it was revealed that there seemed to be no root structure to hold it. Hmmm … how had it survived all those years?
Even with roots, a tree can be toppled.
But that tree was young and immature.
Life can be like that. Young, immature, lacking a sufficient root system.
So today I mourn our tree, our loss of Owen, but most of all the loss of friends’ young sons.
Two of our friends lost 30 year old sons to suicide this past month. No tree or dog can compare. It’s an unimaginable sorrow. My heart goes out to those families.
Monday mourning
God bless you. May your life be deeply rooted in love and purpose.
Hugs, JanBeek (with my life’s love … thank you, Bob… I am so blessed!)
Here we are at a recent amazing Pittsburgh Pirates game.
This week my dear friend, Mona Durham, age 96, died peacefully with her family gathered round.
Mona’s family and the leadership team of our church decorated the sanctuary and fellowship hall beautifully for her memorial service today.
Her ashes, in a container under the purple cloth, were sent into the hands of God as Jesus and St. Peter must surely have welcomed her into heaven. She was a True Believer.
The floral arrangements were spectacular.
There was a beautiful display of photos depicting Mona with many of her beloved family. She had four children and seven grandchildren. Four of the grandkids shared stories about how her life impacted theirs in such loving, meaningful, lasting ways.
I took notes (as is my habit) as I listened to their stories. Here are my notes:
Mona Durham’s was a 96 year life well lived. She lived heartily loving and laughing; Tough, fair, sarcastic, always available, Humble, reliable, stable, and always hospitable.
Mona wasn’t delicate or sheltered. The last of three daughters, she was the son… The son her dad never had! How he loved her! Oh how she loved him, others, and this Madison Valley!
She was a woman of grit and grace, loyal and hardworking. Volunteered with church, History museum, blood draws, Elections, Women’s Club & Cattle Women’s Association. Her later years were less busy, but never less purposeful.
She gave her life to quietly helping others. Her strength, honesty, love, and strong values Were the glue that held the family together. Also the fact that she always had fresh cookies!
Mona’s strength was grounded and rooted. Her faith was deep, honest and clear. She carried struggles quietly with endurance. Her life will endure in each of us who loved her.
Following the service, there was a time of fellowship with beautiful trays of meats and cheeses (prepared by Deemo’s in Ennis).
Deemo’s also prepared this beautiful, tasty tray of veggies.
The family extended a special thank you to the caregivers at Home Park and Madison Valley Manor for the dignity, kindness, and care they showed Ramona in her final years. In lieu of flowers, they asked that donations be made to Madison Valley Historical Museum (where Mona was a faithful, treasured volunteer) or Bear Creek Schoolhouse (where she attended 1st to 4th grade and then later volunteered to help with fundraisers to maintain it – and organized pinochle parties every March). She loved playing cards, doing 500 – 1000 piece puzzles, and keeping in touch always with her family and friends. She will be sorely missed by us all!
Mona’s smile was infectious!
Mona’s granddaughter, Tori, summed up what most of her family would agree was an important take-away:
“I see so clearly that her impact isn’t simple or singular, it’s generational. What she has given us goes far beyond memories, she’s given us a way of living.”
“She never once told me how to live, but she sure as hell has shown me!”
Your shared love inspires us to pass it on. Thank you, Mona.
If you have followed my blog for awhile, you know that I used to share my sermon notes after church every Sunday. I still take sermon notes every Sunday, but not always in poetry now, and not always shared. I just got outta the habit. But, today’s sermon begs to be shared. It’s Palm Sunday… the start of Holy Week for us Christians. It’s a time to share our faith. That’s one of Jesus’ commandments! So here’s what I heard our interim minister, Brian Conklin, say today:
Jesus rode a donkey on a path of pain, Not a magnificent steed’s ride of triumph. The crowd expected a powerful leader – Not a man who would die a horrific death!
Was Jesus alone in His heartbreak? Was He alone asking, “Take this cup?” Was He alone saying, “Not My will… But Your Will be done?”
Jesus died a “flop” in the eyes Of His followers. They misunderstood. They didn’t believe the message: “I’ll die, but in three days I will live again.”
Obedience, care, compassion, humility – These were the Lordship of Jesus. Peace… and a willingness to suffer… These were His expressions of Power.
The Way of Jesus wasn’t domination. Not then – not now – So tell me, Which parade are you following? Which path do you choose?
Complacency, complicity, cruelty, pride? Love, humility, obedience, compassion? I choose the latter path – but the road is painful! Really? The Via Dolorosa… the way of suffering?
What path do you choose?
Back at home, I decided to do a little research. That path of suffering is sometimes known as Via Crucis (Latin for “Way of the Cross”). It is a processional route in the Old City of Jerusalem. It represents the path Jesus took, forced by Roman soldiers On His way to His crucifixion. It’s the winding route from the former Antonia Fortress to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. It is a celebrated place of Christian pilgrimage. The current route has been established since the 18th century. It is marked today by 14 Stations of the Cross. Nine of them are outside, in the streets, with the remaining five being currently inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
AI generated this image of Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem. My “Path of suffering” doesn’t look like that. It’s not paved. It is much more like that first one: dark, barren, windey, foreboding. Jesus didn’t promise us a bed of roses. During this Holy Week, We are asked to travel with Him as He is arrested, tried, scorned, rejected by His very followers, denied by Peter three times, and Ultimately put to death. That’s the path. It’s not a pretty one. But, don’t stop there! If Jesus had done so, He’d be a forgotten martyr!
Walk on with confidence! Remember where your chosen path leads! Amen?
God bless all those who sacrificed their lives that we might live in freedom. I never take that for granted. Have a blessed Memorial Day🥰, my fellow Americans.
When you’re in your mid-80’s and both your parents died before their 90th birthdays, it’s natural to think about your own death.
It’s the winter season of my life. Family and friends are leaving this earth before me. Many are a decade or more younger than I.
Yesterday I received a message from a friend. Her husband has been battling lung cancer I’ve been praying for him and his wife daily. He developed pneumonia recently.
Along with his other health issues, lung cancer and interstitial lung disease, she wrote, “That wasn’t a good mix!” Sadly, he passed away.
But soon the “sadly” changed to “gratitude.” She continued, telling me, “… alert, no pain, and telling stories right up to the end.” What a wonderful blessing that was!
No, this isn’t him, but I can imagine the scene. “All of us were with him,” she wrote. “He said he was ready to meet Jesus. His faith was unbelievably strong.
He let everybody know he was joyfully checking out.” My friend played Merle Haggard’s song on her cell phone: Sing Me Back Home, and put the phone by his ear. He smiled, closed his eyes, “So long ’til we meet on the other side.”
How d’ya wanna die? I’ve decided my friend’s scenario is the one I want when I leave this earth. How about you?
I am sooooo saddened by the news of the helicopter/jet collision and the enormous loss of precious lives!
Yes, you might expect something like that in war zones, but right here in our USA… near Washington DC? As everyone is saying, “It should never have happened!”
One of the victims was a mother of a one and a three year old. Imagine those children and their dad :o( Two of the victims were champion ice skaters (one from USA and one from Russia) traveling back home from a training session… their moms were with them. Their trainers/coaches were with them. Imagine our grieving Ice Skaters’ World-wide! So sad!
President Trump (in a news interview this morning) said the names of the 64 victims will be released shortly. I want to pray specifically for each soul… and for their families and loved ones. So tragic!
When my dad retired, we threw a big party for him. I wrote a poem in tribute to him and read it at the gathering. He lived a difficult decade after that retirement with one health issue after another slowing him down. But, his hearty hugs and sweet nature were always alive and well… and remembered with love and gratitude.
Here’s that retirement poem. It tells you a lot about my hard-working, loveable dad.
A Tribute to Dad on His Retirement
Tonight we’ve come together To celebrate the start Of the Third Phase in my dad’s life. In the Second, most of you played a part.
The First Phase was in Newman Where Salvador came-a fraum-a. His childhood was filled with girls, Five sisters and his mawm-a.
“My Salvador can-a marry anybod; So all you girls look out-a!” He picked and chose an outta-state blond. “No Catholic? No Italian?” they shout-a.
They bought a house in Newman. Dad delivered milk and bread. But then he went to Frank’s garage And worked on cars instead.
My sister, “Saleen”, came along, And then before you knew it, “Gaetano” was expected next, But “Janet” came and blew it!
So, what-a you think? My Salvador Izza back where first he start-a… Heeza surrounded by girls-a, a wife and kids. Mama Mia! Life, sheeza hard-a!!
To make things worse, the war began. Mom worked at the Bomb Plant And Dad got into this Plant here. Now life took a new slant.
The Second Phase had just begun: Joe, Leo, Melio, and Gene Had pooled resources with Dad To sweep the valley clean.
The Tallow Works was something new. They chose the name Pacific. We moved out to a barren field And a smell that was less than terrific.
Our home said, “Office;” the phone rang From early morn ’til night. Business boomed while Dad drove truck. He treated the farmers right.
I used to go with Dad in summer To Stockton’s butcher shops. We had a blast together then. With me, Dad was always tops!
The plant-a, she grew-a; the family, too. We needed a change. You believed us. So we moved to Turlock, into a new home. And Merle came and relieved us.
Through all the years Dad drove the truck, The wheel and road were part of him. And then Pacific sold to Petersen. Don’t you think that was smart of him?
Now he could reap the Union checks, And get a feel for the other side. He left the headaches, but kept the friends And the route; so he’d have to ride.
But now the ride will go new routes. The Third Phase has begun. Dad’s ready for a well-earned rest, ‘Cuz his Second Phase was WELL DONE!
Do you think he can rest? Has he learned how? I’ve never seen Dad sit and shirk. I’ve never seen Dad happy doing not a thing. I’ve always seen Dad at his work.
Of course there were times when he had to slow down: God tapped on his shoulder and said, “Here’s a wrist break, intestines, something one wrong. Now rest for a while in your bed!”
The message came through that thick head of his, And he slept for a moment or few. But (praise be to God) he enjoyed Bocci Ball And had time for a play day or two.
So Phase Three will have to be free To play at some things old and new. Free to learn how to just come and sit And simply admire the view.
He’ll still need his friends (you folks sitting here), And he’ll still work and get behind the wheel, But he’ll have time to do and go where he wants, He and Mom … in their new automobile.
I hope that you here will join me now: Stand! Let’s toast to my Dad; he’s our friend: “May retirement bring health, laughter and joy, May you live to a-hundred and ten!”
God Bless You, Dad! Thanks for being YOU!
Rest in Peace Salvador DeAngeles May 14, 1911 – April 8, 1995
Happy Father’s Day! Have a Lovely Sunday… And I hope you remember your daddy with love and kindness and fond memories. If he is still with you, treasure his hugs… and give him an extra hug from me.
What do you do while the clothes are fluffing in the dryer and you are waiting before taking them out to fold them?
Do you have paper and pens, color crayons and chalk sitting on your table where you’re waiting to fold clothes?
I do.
I love to write Acrostics while waiting in the laundry room for the clothes to fluff so I can fold them wrinkle free.
Here are a few of mine. You can guess the topic knowing these were created within the last four months.
ANTICIPATING OWEN 2/14/24
O ur W onderful E specially N ew
P resent U plifting us: P up!!
Screenshot
POOPY OWEN 3/18/24
P lease O bey, O wen! P oop Y our shit O utside W hen E ver N ecessary!
Please, Lord, help us figure out how to train this puppy to go outside – and to come when called!
OWEN LEO:HE’S LEARNING! 4/20/24
O odles of fun W hen he behaves E ven when he forgets, he N ever ceases to bring joy!
L et us be patient and E ncourage his good behavior. O wen is such a love!
FUTURE PLANS 6/7/24
F irst U p: T rouble erupted U nder our noses R eally sad E vent happened P up Owen died L anding outside the window A ttached to his leash N oose around his neck S uffocated, hung himself.
Where do we go from here? How do we keep living in this empty, vacuous house without Owen? He filled all the empty spaces in our home and hearts. We are devastated. Can’t think future plans right now.
DON’T GET STUCK 6/14/24
D isasters O ccur N ightmares T raumatize G oodness E nters T hrough S ensitive T rusting U nderstanding C aring K indred Spirits
We have been so blessed this week to have the love and hugs, flowers and cards, calls and caring of so many of our family & friends. They have encouraged us to grieve, of course, but “Don’t get stuck.” In Owen’s sweet memory Move On… Laugh again, Love again, Rejoice again, Snuggle again with Another Boston Terrier.
We’re not quite ready yet… But God is helping us heal. Thank you, God’s angels. We love you!
Have you ever experienced a day from hell? We just had one. We are devastated. Our sweet, adorable, beloved Owen, our 10 month old Boston Terrier, died yesterday. It was a tragic, bizarre accident. He jumped out of the car window while connected to a leash and hung himself. I can’t go into any more detail – I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop blaming myself. With all the best of intentions, with love for Owen as the motivation, we left him in a situation that we never in a million years anticipated would turn out so horribly. If you don’t hear from me for awhile, you will understand why. I am so so so sorry!!!!! My heart is broken in a million pieces.
He filled all the empty places in our heart and home… he was such a sweetheart… learning and growing… and now he is gone. A day from hell…
I can’t stop blaming myself. We were gone less than 5 minutes. We never should have left him… Woulda, shoulda, coulda… Heaven help us!
