Humble Pie

May 8

Stories bring people together who would otherwise be divided. – Jeff Bartsch

Happy Monday!

This morning I woke up thinking about what I wanted to share today because my heart has been pretty heavy over the last 24 hours. But before I tell you why, I want to share with you a story that came back to me recently while eating of all things a veggie pot pie. A story that had a pot pie become humble pie as a symbol of hope and possibilities.

In the final days of my mom’s life coming up on 14 years ago, she was slipping in and out of consciousness partly because of the drugs she was on to ease her pain, and partly because she was in the final stage of her life. Ovarian cancer combined with chemo that sadly induced the onset of leukemia had gotten the best of her and she was losing a long hard fought battle.

We had gathered at my mom’s home for several weeks to spend these precious final days with her. The doctor had told us she had a week max, but my mom had rallied when all her kids came home. She had made it very clear she wanted to spend her final days in her own California king bed in her home she loved and no more hospital for her.

During week two of our vigil as she come in and out of consciousness, we thought that this was her final day. She had spent the entire day sleeping and not communicating with us at all. We sat near her and prayed, cried, and held each other knowing how much we would miss her in our lives.

Suddenly at about 7pm that night my mom woke up and immediately said, “I need a Marie Callenders chicken pot pie.” To have my Mom wake up and ask for a chicken pot pie gave me such joy and an adrenaline rush I hadn’t felt for weeks.

Then we quickly discovered there was not a chicken pot pie of any kind to be found in the house. Rushing by myself to the store, I literally ran down the frozen foods aisle to get that pot pie for my sweet mom. I knew every second counted. Well, my Mom got her pot pie in record time and watching her eat it, savoring it, still brings a smile to my face. Suddenly the impossible seemed possible.

I am convinced that pot pie gave us another precious week. While we lost her in the end, we gave her a beautiful exit from the planet surrounded by her loving family and friends who came from near and far. At 80 years of age, she had enjoyed a very good life.

Coming back to the present, yesterday as I bounced around here at home taking care of all my plant babies I am about to bring outside this week, my heart felt happy. And then in an instant that changed.

As I went to share a little video of my plant babies online on Instagram, I caught wind of yet another mass shooting in Texas and it stopped me in my tracks. Again, so soon, really? 8 people dead and countless others whose lives will never be the same all because they made the fatal mistake of going to a shopping mall.

Not sure why, but this one hit me hard as my soul began to ache with such a feeling of hopelessness. Sadness in knowing that it would lead where all these senseless killings have led for the past 24 years since Columbine. No where but to more shootings.

Yesterday, I tried gardening some more, went on a bicycle ride, did some creative furniture painting, the things that usually bring me joy, and nothing changed my mood. In fact, while I was on my bike ride, I saw an American flag waving in the breeze, and it made me cry.

That flag used to always put a smile on my face, made me cry because I am not sure what it stands for anymore. The justice and liberty for all part of our the allegiance has gone away big time.

And as I got up this morning trying to figure out how I would share something positive with you, today’s quote came to me seemingly out of nowhere. Because honestly, I don’t even know who Jeff Bartsch is (turns out he is a pretty famous video editor and more), but I liked what he had to say.

I decided to share this story with you this morning (and thanks for sticking with me on a rather lengthy letter today) as a reminder that it is heartache that can bring us together or it can tear us apart. We can change the story if we come together. Divided we cannot and have not.

Here’s to the hope of the seemingly impossible at this point becoming possible. Of changing this story that has been on repeat for far too long. Changing the story of angry men (mostly young) with artillery guns senselessly killing innocent people in the most horrific of ways and usually themselves in the process. That those with the power to do so finally resolve this without all the excuses why they cannot. Or, we need to find new leaders.

And for all of you who still have your sweet Mom on the planet, hug her a little tighter this mother’s day coming up on Sunday. I will think of my sweet Mom and the joy of that humble pot pie being one of the greatest gifts I gave to her and that smile on her face that she gave back to me.