Celebrating a Miracle Every Day

By Linda Grupp Boutin

     Have you ever witnessed a miracle? This might depend upon how you define one. Over a lifetime I have learned that if you keep open to the wonders around you, you might very well witness many miracles every single day. Merriam-Webster defines “miracle” as: an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs; an extremely outstanding or unusual event, thing or accomplishment. This definition classifies miracles into two broad categories; the first credits divine intervention or God and the second focuses on outstanding or unusual. My premise is to look beyond the usual into the amazing things we ignore because of everyday familiarity. When you adopt this perspective, you open your eyes to the divine.

     For instance, did you notice the full moon we enjoyed last week? Shining overhead, dispelling the darkness and opening our view to a new outlook. Think about the everyday wonder of our little planet having a moon at all. It exerts tremendous influence over the health of our Earth. For our ancestors, who didn’t enjoy the convenience of electricity, this heavenly body provided extra light to finish up harvesting, directions for navigators, and precise timing to set our calendars to a month by month system. It controls tides, affects behavior of animals and humans, keeps Earth from wobbling in its orbit too badly.

    Gary and I have been moon watchers since our second or third date. We went for a swim in the condo complex’s pool on a cold winter night. After getting in a good workout, we moved over to the Jacuzzi, turned on the jets and warmed up under the stars. There was a full moon out that night and Gary pointed it out to me. We admired it together and christened it our “streetlamp” when we made the run back to the condo in the cold. Later we began calling it God’s Streetlamp remembering the One who placed it there.

     As time passed and our relationship deepened, we often chose to rename things in our own ways. After leaving my mother’s funeral about 6 months later, Gary showed me the magnificent purple blooming trees lining the street leading out of the cemetery. He asked me what it was named and I didn’t have the slightest idea what they were called. Flippantly, I told them that they were California Purple-Flowering Trees. Later we learned the correct name was jacaranda, but we still sometimes call them our pet name. Another 6 months later we found ourselves facing breast cancer again, this time with his mom. As challenges enter our lives, it becomes our choice and responsibility to embrace them and work our way through them, or throw our hands in the air and run for the nearest way out. Somehow those difficulties weigh a little less when you take time to notice the wonderful and amazing stuff around us. Happily his mom survived her illness and has been a part of our lives for another 38 years.

Jacaranda tree in May

     One daily pick-me-up are the sunsets that I love and point out when I see one spreading across the sky. Gary explained to me early on that God had gotten out his paint box and colored the sky just for us. We pray over seeds when we plant them and notice the wonders around us and share them. We have ridden ski lifts to the top of the mountain, literally made breathless by the mountain view displayed before us. It is a matter of taking the time to notice the crows cawing overhead, the hummingbird zipping among the blossoms and the butterfly flitting through the flowers. It keeps our childlike wonder alive even though we were not blessed with children by God.

     Most recently Gary came running in the front door with a brown praying mantis that he had rescued from the street. Our very first year together he came in carrying a baby chick just newly hatched from our chicken coop. Another time it was our first baby goat, damp and newborn, but calling loudly for its mama to rescue it from this big man. Any stray spider wandering in our home is gently captured and carried to the plants outdoors on the front porch. It is a choice we make to value life and all its wonders. And for us, this means acknowledging our Creator, God, in all the magnificence He surrounds us with from the moment we open our eyes.

     So how about you? You can start right this instant. Take a moment to examine your hand and fingers. Have you ever thought about how intricately they are made? Notice the swirls of your fingerprints and handprint and remember that these were specially formed for just you. Will you choose to employ it in our Provider’s work, honoring Him with how you use them? From the hair on your head to the blood coursing through your veins, you are wonderfully made. Now take this perspective and apply it to all around you and I guarantee you will have a better day for it, no matter what the challenges are that you face.

Celebrating the Power of Prayer

By Linda Grupp Boutin

2 Corinthians 12:9 And he said to me, My grace is sufficient for you: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest on me.
 

Recently I sat on the examining table in my doctor's office when she said, "You are amazing." I did not know how to reply, but kept listening. She explained the comment to me and her words reminded me that it has nothing really to do with me, but everything to do with the miracle the Lord works in my life every day. I should not be able to eat or digest much of anything at all, but yet somehow God makes it all work. His designs are so intricate that we don't acknowledge the daily miracles happening in our bodies as we breathe, eat, live...we tend to forget until something breaks down. Then we beg Him to make it work right again.This post shares why I take joy in my infirmities because they draw me so much closer to My Creator.

So easy to take so many things for granted, but this summer has been a reminder to me of how very lucky I am. If you wonder why, I must say that I have been upheld by prayer for my whole life. Even when I struggled in my faith, abandoned belief and tried to ignore the Lord in my life, family and loved ones have prayed for me. Many times I have received the benefit of prayer asking for healing for the "terminal" disease I was diagnosed with in my early 20s. My Dad and many others in my family prayed daily for me to survive. And I know that these prayers have made a huge difference in my life.

But back to this summer, the reminders came with the stark reality of two 5-day hospitalizations and a series of tests confirming that the doctors have no explanation whatsoever how anything works in my digestion. All the tests, x-rays and imaging procedures confirm the original diagnosis--chronic idiopathic intestinal pseudo-obstruction. What does it mean? That my digestion can work backwards, too fast forwards, and freeze up altogether; a mighty painful process for me. It is in this weakness that the Lord and my faith in Him has been made strong.

Intestines are not designed to stop and go into paralysis ever. They are supposed to work smoothly propelling what we eat through the mouth, taking the elevator of the esophagus down to the stomach for digestion, through the small intestine where the nutrients we need to live are picked up by the bloodstream, then through the large intestine for water, electrolytes and minerals to be reabsorbed. It is an intricate process that when it works is easy to take for granted. This summer's particular challenge resided in my esophagus.

We are only reminded of all this when something goes wrong in the process. And things went pretty wrong for me in the summer of 1979 when I was just 24. That December my weight dropped from 145 to 86 pounds. I found myself in ICU fighting for my very life. My digestion had become paralyzed the previous June and despite trying to eat, I became severely malnourished with a huge belly full of undigested food. The San Diego doctors, stumped by my disease, sent me to UCLA for help. My stomach doctor had learned about an experimental program being used there that she hoped might help me. Prayers already being answered!

The UCLA cure was tough to live with, daily dependence for 12 hours on of a  machine feeding me directly into my bloodstream. If I ate food, I landed in the hospital. So my daily prayer became "Lord, please, just let me eat, please..."

No positive answer came for 7 long years, just keep praying and waiting and praying and waiting. The Lord molded me demonstrating where my priorities should be. A couple of years into the battle, two special new friends led me back to the Lord. I started attending church again and was baptized by immersion. I continued to pray and started studying taekwondo side by side with my husband. I learned that exercise not only helped me feel better, it also created artificial movement in my intestines that helped food move through more easily. And all that time, prayers continued to be sent aloft by my loved ones and church family and me. My walk with the Lord became stronger. But His plan still had a long way to unfold.

"Most gladly...glorify in my infirmities..." That is a really tough one and hard to accept. Yet today my friend, Coleene VanTilburg

Coleene and myself at AWF

sent me an Instant Message stating that I was in such a good mood last night at the Aspiring Writers' Forum (AWF). I replied that I was simply happy, joyous! I have learned so much through all these years of struggle. Maybe most importantly is to grab the moment and make the most of it. Working with other writers, I find my purpose and try to encourage them to Celebrate Their Voices. Speak boldly about the things that you have learned. Be generous with others and encourage each other through the good times and the tough times.

And never forget the power of prayer! My husband reminded me this very morning that prayer is so important and His answer can be "Yes" or "No" and sometimes "Wait." And it is in the waiting that I have found my purpose, my joy, and my love of the Lord!

Celebrating All Those Little Things

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Last week I had to go to the dentist again. Something I have taken for granted since I was 8 years old. It all goes back to the day I first met the power of the Santa Ana winds; also known as the "devil winds." I was a novice Californian, having only left the very different weather of Indiana a few short months before. I ran the half block up the hill from Rinaldi Street School to our brand new ranch home. Each front yard dropped down a terrace from the street level. The snapping of the US flag flying above our school meant nothing as I headed home for lunch with Mom and my sister, Pam.

I kept pushing my skirt down as the wind tried to flip it up over my head. By the time I reached the top of our terrace, the 7 stairs that led down into our yard looked like nothing. But anyone who has experienced these winds know that the occasional gust may be over 60 m.p.h. I saw my sister's smiling face watching for me from the family room window, headed down the stairs and found myself flat at the bottom. Before I could stand back up, Mom and Pam were by my side helping me. I didn't realize I was bleeding. As they checked me over for injuries, pretty soon I learned that the devil winds had just destroyed my brand-new, 2 front teeth.

Lunch and returning to school that day were out of the question. After settling me down on my bed to rest, Mom went to work calling all the neighbors for recommendations for a dentist. I will always be thankful for Mrs. Gates telling Mom about Dr, Sherman. He made room in that afternoon's schedule and he reassured me that he could fix those broken teeth before I ever left his office that day! What a savior of my dignity and hero in my eyes. And good to his word, I left the office with my broken teeth covered in temporary caps measured just to fit me. I would not have to return to school with a broken smile, my biggest concern.

And mostly ever since Dr. Sherman fixed my smile, I never even give those capped front teeth a second thought. Until I awoke from a medical procedure and found one of those two caps floating around in my mouth. So easy to forget how important this small cosmetic fix is until it falls out of place! Over half a century after that day, Dr. Sherman's smiles and reassurances tumbled back into my memory.

A different hero came to my rescue this time in the form of my tall, dark and handsome husband who stopped in a local pharmacy and brought me some temporary dental glue to adhere my unbroken cap back into place. I still had to consult with my current dentist for a more permanent fix after the Labor Day holiday passed, but that tube of glue made such a difference for several days. And once she replaced the wobbly temporary fix with permanent dental glue, I quickly forgot about the caps all over again. Took for granted my ability to bite into whatever I was eating several times per day. And all this reminded me how easily we humans take for granted so many things, important things that make a difference in our lives, things that we should think a bit longer and more appreciatively about. You know, grateful for our blessings, counting our blessings, being grateful for our blessings.



So now I want to ask you, are you grateful for all the many blessings you have in your life?
Do you tell the important people in your life how much you appreciate them? Have you given thought to thanking God for the provision provided to you each and every day, your very breath, the wonders of the world surrounding you, for sending His Son, Jesus, to save you and me on the cross? Oh yeah, we humans also forget about all the Lord does for us in this life. So wherever you are in your life, whether good times or challenging times, remember that you have so very many blessings in your life that it would be hard for you even to think of them all. So take a moment and celebrate all the little things that make your life worthwhile! Allowing gratitude to take hold in your life will help you weather every storm and make the most of every day!

Delighting in the Day

By Linda Grupp Boutin

I find myself blooming into spring with thoughts of writing and speaking and traveling crowding my thoughts. When did winter fly away, I wonder while I watch a hummingbird quarreling with another? Here in SoCal, it feels like winter never stopped by. Last week temperatures hit 90 degrees and I searched my shorts drawer for cooler clothes to don. Sun drenched on our back patio, my two dogs are shedding warmer winter fur and putting on bright new coats for summer.

Cleaning closets and sorting books on the shelves gives me time and freedom to think while I work. I know I've kept these clothes too long, out of style and no longer fitting properly. They remind me of younger days when I dressed in layers for the vagaries of San Diego weather. Books, oh yes books, they have taken me places all my life. My fingers run over the dusty copies of Hemingway and Fitzgerald, Austin and Ingalls. Here is one by Bill Moyers, this one explores the Vietnam War. Old clothes, old books, way too much dust, suddenly I sneeze.

Last night in the Aspiring Writers' Forum we discussed writer's block learning about how to overcome the yawning abyss of a blank white page. Stark and empty, this author advised us to write a letter to our mother. After all, you can pour out your heart to your mom and in the process tell her all about your troubles writing, how you don't fit your chosen career, frustrations and traumas; she will doubtless make it all better. And by the way, share with her the details of what you must write about and in the process share your story. Then delete the Dear Mom, the whining and doubts, and in the end you will discover what you were trying to write.

My coleader Coleene (left) and myself at the Aspiring Writers' Forum

I didn't do that, but in rummaging through my past, I discovered that I finally am content in my today. Though I no longer spend days on end reading books, still I love everything about story. Now I find my delight in one of my fellow writers reaching a goal. This week it was a friend finally launching a blog. I beam when one of the speakers I have worked with stands before our church's women and shares the story of her life and walk with the Lord. It gives me purpose to encourage and cajole, plead and prod, nurture and demand. I feel like I have been preparing for a lifetime to be just right where I am right now.

So tonight I am simply thankful. Grateful for a sunshiny day, for the love I feel, for the provision allowing me to pursue my passions. That contentment in the day is something I have pursued a lifetime and to finally find it brings pleasure that is hard to express. My life is not perfect, but now I spend my life immersed in story and loving being just where I am. Thank you Lord for this very day!

Celebrating "Laryngitis"

By Linda Grupp Boutin

My friend and writing partner asked me if I had posted anything on my blogs recently. I explained that I had had a case of writing "laryngitis." She sounded confused about such an odd description. I have always had a tendency to lose my voice...both literally and figuratively. Some alchemy between my early experience in a large, confusing family and the trials of adulthood require that I sometimes sit back, observe, and search out order in my world. When life becomes a bit too crowded, my tendency is to find a small hiding place and wait to see.

And so my waiting continued for a month and more. Knowing that I needed to post something new, but just not able to find the words to fill the page. And I continued waiting and wondering why the wait needed to be so long. I have learned long and hard techniques for developing patience and rather than getting upset over the "laryngitis" I kept the faith that my voice would return when the time was right.

Then it happened! My voice re-emerged in the excitement of sharing the good news from a friend that her submission had been accepted for publication! Wow, I had a voice enough to carry on a conversation with her for hours. We both stood amazed that so much time had passed by getting to know one another just that much better.

In a way, I had been nurturing my voice, treating it with honor like lemon and honey soothes a sore throat. And by Wednesday I found myself typing up a personal essay. Almost 2000 words, it just sort of flowed out naturally and no evidence of my malady remained. I had found my voice and was just so grateful for its return. 

Another friend asked me how my week had gone and I said it was busy but fun! And it has been. Sunday we celebrated 3 friends birthdays together just for food and conversation with our spouses. Monday night I walked with one of my speakers through her CoffeeBreak presentation. Talk about a faithful woman who followed God's lead every step of the way. She sounded so comfortable speaking in front of 175 women or so sharing how the Lord has worked in her life. After she spoke her son came up on stage and joined her. He sang a song he'd sung to her while she battled cancer and the love for his mother overflowed into tears. We in the audience sat in amazement at the family solidarity worked in this Mom's favor to overcome a very serious disease.

Wednesday night I spent coleading the Aspiring Writers' Forum with more discussion of stories submitted for publication. One of our members had not heard either way about the anthology she had submitted a story for consideration. I advised her that maybe she should e-mail the editor just to check because our other writer who was accepted hadn't heard from her either. 

She went home from the meeting and searched out the editor's e-mail address. Within minutes she had her answer too. Yes, her "fun" family story had been accepted! Long and short of it, both of their stories had been accepted but because the stories needed no editing, the editor hadn't contacted them about their acceptances!

So although I have had a touch of writer's laryngitis, the seeds I have sown over the last 5 years for storytelling in CoffeeBreak and for writing in the Forum have sprouted and borne fruit. I am so thankful that the Lord allowed me to overcome my illness in 2006 & 2007 because now I feel like I have finally found the correct path He wants me to follow. I spend my days immersed in story, thinking about how to best portray my friends' stories and watching while they reach out and touch others with their poignancy. I have found my niche and enjoy the passion I feel for what I am doing. PTL!

Celebrating All the Summer Days

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Summer, nothing better in life to celebrate than those long, warm days playing in the sun, catching up with friends, allowing time and space for God's Word to manifest itself in my heart. This season I've experienced a special sense of catching up and celebrating all the Lord has given me. I waited with breath held for the final meeting of the Aspiring Writers' Forum in mid-May. Once past, I let the long days wash over me, sleeping late, trying to heal some wounds, taking each moment one at a time. When we slow life down a bit, it allows time to reset our priorities. 

My co-leader Coleene VanTilburg and myself

Two clocks measure my time these days. I am committed to working with writers in the Aspiring Writers' Forum (AWF). From September through May, every Wednesday evening devoted to encouragement, discussing writing, reading and sharing what we have written. While in these meetings, time revs up seeming to disappear before we can complete all we want to do. This is the first summer in 4 years that I have taken a complete break from meeting with this group. By allowing time to recharge, I have renewed energy and enthusiasm to get back to work. And for the next few weeks my partner Coleene and I will be signing up those who want to embrace Christian writing through next May. So AWF will take up a major portion of my thought, time and energy starting again in September.

The second clock measuring my days revolves around a special women's ministry at our church called Coffee Break. One Monday evening each month we gather together to share coffee, tea and desserts, games and worship songs, and listen to one woman from our congregation share her story. I work with the speakers ahead of their speaking date, preparing them for the experience. I have never been involved in anything so satisfying in my life. I hear about miracles of faith from the past and witness growth in the speakers' lives as they prepare. When women accept this assignment to speak, they cannot anticipate how this single act of obedience can change their lives.

Signing up writers for Aspiring Writers' Forum

The next meeting will be in October and I have been working with the speaker since April so she can practice and polish her presentation. In so doing, we have developed techniques to help inexperienced speakers feel relatively confident when they tell their story to an audience ranging from 100-150 women. After 3 years and 21 speakers, we listen every month about how unique each woman's story is and what each one uses to cope with the challenges she encounters in her life. Many of my summer days are spent in reading and advice in writing these stories out.

A process has developed and most of us think this sounds far easier than the actual doing turns out to be. Today our pastor defined sanctification versus justification in the Christian life. The sermon spoke directly to my heart as I have witnessed the growth in my life and others who have spoken for this ministry. 

So I have celebrated this summer by immersing myself in "story," time well spent reading, writing, encouraging and recharging. Our lives bring different seasons during which we are afforded the opportunity to learn a lesson or two. My take away from this season is to listen carefully, both to those around you and to the Holy Spirit in your life.

Loving All the Many Days

By Linda Grupp Boutin

This year I must especially appreciate all the days the Lord has granted me. The challenges got revved up in January when my kidneys shut down. It took me by surprise that once again my body could revolt and not do what it needed to do to keep myself well. I should not have been taken unaware, I know all too well the hazards my digestion pose. But still, who wants to live life looking over your shoulder constantly. Checking that you are

Celebrating with creme brulee

replacing as much or more than all the fluids you lose. And watch out especially when the Crohn's cranks up and starts forcing fluids out of your digestion at lightning speed.

So yes, I enjoyed a January Sunday morning, shared lunch with my hubby at a restaurant, and spent 12 hours fighting the losing battle of staying hydrated. After the third bath and uncontrollable charley horses in my legs, back and feet, I relented and went to the ER. The next week disappeared while prayers combined with the skills of nurses and doctors to coax my kidneys back to doing their job. The following Sunday, after discharge and a bath in my own tub, Gary and I drove over to attend my nephew, Alex's, Eagle Scout Court of Honor. I rejoiced that the Lord allowed me out just in the nick of time to be there for him.

And 2013 has repeated the theme over and over to take better care of myself. With chronic illness, this takes both focus and consistency. The payoff is being able to do the things I want or need to do on my timetable. By July I felt well enough to celebrate my birthday with my brother Greg and his wife Donna. They brought us to a fabulous restaurant. We sat on the patio overlooking Orange County with the Pacific Ocean off in the distance.

Greg, Linda, Gary, Donna (left to right)

The meal was memorable, but the company and conversation stuck with me. There are special people in our lives that make such a big difference and for Gary and me, that is who Greg and Donna are. Their counsel over the years has helped us through many a difficult moment. They made it possible for us to live in our current home. Their steadfast support through fun and tears make life worth living.

So though this birthday adds one more year to a life now entering senior citizen status, I say love all your days. Appreciate the many things in life you might be tempted to take for granted. Be generous with your time when people need you. What you give comes back tenfold, so share what you have. As Jesus advised, love God and love your neighbor. Treat others like you want to be treated. And never forget to celebrate the wonders of life all around you. It is from this gratitude that contentment grows.

Enjoying the Blessings of Good Health`

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Southern California has experienced a severe heat wave this week. Many have been shocked by the toll 105+ degree heat takes on their health. Indeed most of us tend to take our health for granted never considering the myriad items our bodies cope with every single day. In today's post I want to take the time to celebrate the marvelous workings we are blissfully unaware of every day of our lives.

How often do you consider your heart beating? We understand intuitively the importance of the continued work our heart does, but when was the last time you gave thanks for the organ that circulates night and day, awake and asleep, sending oxygen and nutrients to the most far-flung parts of you.

The heart is one thing, but how about the largest organ of the body? Do you even know what that is? I'm betting you give it little thought, but to a burn patient each piece of healed skin eases pain and decreases the risk of infection. It is the barrier that keeps you separate from all that surrounds you, good and bad. A primary function on a hot day is to keep you cool when your body knows to sweat so that the fluid evaporates cooling you down. If you stop sweating, then you know you'd better put a stop to your fun in the sun because with no perspiration you will quickly overheat to the point of danger. The body signals this to you by getting dizzy, nauseous, and you just don't feel well.

Then there are the lungs and respiratory system. Everything from the nostrils throughout the system work together to protect you and provide the oxygen fueling the systems of your self. And don't forget about the kidneys, thyroid, liver, not to mention the brain. All contribute vital functions that keep you feeling like you and ready to put your muscles to work to accomplish everything you do from typing to painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

So don't take all this for granted, but celebrate all the things your body and its organs allow you to do. Take a moment to thank the Creator for setting this very sophisticated system up and giving you one that works just about right most all the time. Without this gift, where would you be...

Celebrating the Joy of Life

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Today a friend tagged me on Facebook. She said a particular video made her think of me (http://rawforbeauty.com/blog). I clicked on the link and enjoyed a belly laugh watching a video featuring this dog bounding through golden fields, jumping high in the air to clear the tall strands, disappearing again completely enclosed by the plants in the field. Considering I have a blog writing about my love of dogs and the antics of my basenjis, I can see the association she made with me. But I also must say that I envied that dog and his pure joy in life, leaping and jumping, celebrating all he saw around him.

I try every day to celebrate the joy in life because not a one of us has any guarantee that tomorrow will come. We take it for granted that we will have another day, and another, and another. But we all know that one day this life will come to an end. One time speaking with my 86-year-old father he told me that the first thing he did every day when he awoke was to thank God for keeping him safe and granting him another day. I took Dad's advice and try to remember to give thanks daily too. When we maintain an attitude of gratitude all that surrounds us takes on the aspect of a gift, which is exactly what all of life and what we have precisely is, a gift from God.

I love that a friend perceives me as a joyful creature. She knows many of the challenges I face with my health. These difficulties contribute to why I appreciate the day, no matter how tough it might be. Pain keeps me company, but so long as I keep busy I can keep it at bay until I go to sleep at night. Then as it tries to raise its ugliness and make me give up, I start to talk to God. Sometimes I can be eloquent with prayer, but when it's midnight pushing 2 a.m. more often I beg for His deliverance. Please Lord, just let me sleep. I know it will be better in the morning light...

And He does, and I rest, and in the morning I bound (sometimes) out of bed much as that dog flies through the fields. And each day when I can touch another life, in some small way or large, I know that every effort is worth it. Because in the doing, my life makes a difference. Today a young teen kept trying to ride his bike across the street. Being a busy Friday afternoon, all the drivers in their cars were too busy to stop and give the young man a chance to cross the street. I pulled up to the intersection slowly, came to a full stop and signaled him to safely cross. The cars going the opposite direction saw me stopped and gave him grace as well. I went on my way feeling like such a small thing can make another person's day, paying it forward in a simple sense.

So what about you, what do you need to celebrate with joy in your life? Health, wealth, a special friend, a cherished pet? Take that moment to give some thanks. There is no right or wrong way, just an opportunity to develop that attitude of gratitude. Embrace the moment and understand our interconnectedness and how that provides each of us the chance to encourage one another.

No Turning Back

By Linda Grupp Boutin

     I stared into my backpack. Did I have everything I needed? The space felt stuffed with the objects for an estimated three to four days. An opened bag of M&Ms, pain medication, heparin to keep my line open (Did I really need to carry this?) and an odd assortment of things to sustain me. I pulled the drawstring taut around the top and strapped our only sleeping bag into place at the base. One last glance around the closet assured me that inside the pack I carried everything for my anticipated hiking trip.

     My green parka hung loosely on a thin frame. The hiking boots that had seen no use for over two years completed the ensemble. I glanced at my husband, Gary, sitting; shoulders slumped, on the bed. He looked up from his clasped hands when I stepped into the room. Tears filled my eyes, but there was no other way that I could see through this mess. Resolutely I turned from the bedroom and out the front door of our apartment. It had taken months of long consideration to reach this decision and I would listen to no further arguments on this matter.

     My footfalls crossing the parking lot created the only sounds on this dark, late November night. My endurance lasted through Thanksgiving, but I could no longer continue the medical regimen required to preserve my life. For over a year my paralyzed digestive tract tolerated no food whatsoever. If I dared take a bite, I landed in a hospital bed. Each night, just to continue living, I connected myself to two machines, one to feed me intravenously for over 12 hours, one to drain the excess fluids from my stomach to attempt to keep them from entering my digestive tract.

     Quality of life entered the news that year. A family wanted to discontinue medical treatment for a daughter trapped inside a coma for too many years. I understood the issue all too well, from the inside, but not trapped in a coma. I knew the pain of illness, emotional and physical, intimately. Reflected in Gary’s eyes, my illness closed us into a world intolerable at best. At UCLA the doctors held out hope for me for an intestinal pacemaker or maybe a transplant in a decade or two. I shook my head to clear the images and looked both ways before crossing the road out of habit.

     My mind tripped back to happier days when Gary and I planned our first backpacking trip together. Newly in love, overflowing with hope for the future, we purchased the packs together along with one for my dog, Ginger. Now less than 5 years later we all knew this trip was to be taken alone. My husband could not understand why I could no longer tolerate the two tubes hanging from my chest, the machines hum all night long, my desperate desire to eat which the doctors had forbidden.

     I left it all behind that night: the intravenous pump and pole, the bottles and bottles of solutions to feed myself with, the tubings, sterile dressings, suction machine. Walked away from my closet full of supplies for life to embrace what would follow, no intention of continuing the ludicrous routine ruling, supposedly saving, my life. I was done, exhausted, finished.

     It won’t take any time at all, I kept reassuring myself. Three or four days at most, depending on how cold it was in the Laguna mountians. Dehydration would set in, after all, the medical encyclopedia listed this as a terminal condition. I have the right to choose treatment or reject it, don’t I? After all, I’m an adult. I had chosen to go to the doctors and accepted their recommendations, but now I’d changed my mind. After experiencing the life they’d designed for a year, doing all they expected, I could no longer accept it. This must all come to an end because I cannot live my life without eating. They are simply asking more than a person can endure. My plan had been to be a nurse to others, not to spend every day of my life taking care of a sick me!

     Hence my plan to cause Gary as little grief as possible. Why did he have to keep fighting me on this? He said life is always worth living, but he has never gone a day not eating hooked up to machines, much less a year. So take as little as possible, leave Gary the car, take the bus to Alpine and walk out into the forest. Find a nice, quiet spot and let the disease take my life. Shouldn’t take too long, probably just three, maybe four days at most. Dehydration would take me quickly, I swallowed hard and reassured myself.

     What is that I hear? No one should be calling me, not right now with my mind made up. I kept walking heading for the bus station. I saw the lights ahead and kept moving forward. Now I recognized the voice. One I knew all too well after just a few years of marriage. His long legs quickly overtook my lead. I begged him to go away. He said he would just walk with me, no more arguments. His pace matched mine. The lights brightened as we approached the benches arranged at the bus stop in the shopping mall. I took a seat, praying for a bus, any bus to arrive soon, so I could escape his company.

     After minutes passed like hours, the bus approached. I didn’t check the destination, it didn’t matter, anywhere away from him would work just fine. I mounted the steps, jangled my fare into the box, stomped to the back of the bus, turned and took a seat. Sliding my arms from the pack I relaxed. I had made it. Now I could be released from this bondage of life with illness, disability, pain in body, mind and soul. Eating would mean nothing where I planned on going, food irrelevant.

     The bus was just sitting there, not accelerating from the curb to take me to my destination. I looked up to see what the bus driver was doing and quickly discerned the problem. Another person had boarded the bus after me and now I was staring directly in those deep, brown eyes I knew all too intimately. Gary stood facing me, standing beside the bus driver. He seemed to be trying to imprint in his memory some final impression of his wife, now fleeing from his look of overpowering love. “Why did he have to follow me?” my thoughts screamed inside my head.

     Now my eyes dropped to my hands and the moment of truth had arrived. That look killed so much in that instant. How could I turn my back on someone who wanted me so badly in their life that he would chase me down like that? I had to do this right, not be a burden, not make a mess, but clean one up. And suddenly I knew that quality of life had nothing to do at all with it. Empty, devoid of meaning, it was not up to me to pick and choose the time or date. Whether it took just three or four days or maybe thirty or forty years, it just simply was not my choice. But once decided, there could be no going back. I could not subject either of us to this anymore. If I changed course here, reversed myself, I knew it would be the commitment for life.

     Slowly, my fingers clasped the strap of that blue backpack. Fighting all impulses, my knees pulled me up and back onto my feet. One step followed the next back to the front of the bus. When I reached him, he pulled the backpack from my grasp, hefting it onto his broad shoulder. I did not ask the bus driver to return my fare, just stepped down the steps and walked forward. Back into life, back into not eating, back into daily, 12-hour regimens of intravenous feedings for the next 7 years.

     Today, 32 years later, I look back at that moment in time when I was convinced to embrace life by brown, loving eyes that refused to let me go. And bless the moment he walked into my life.

Originally written for Ladies Home Journal Personal Essay Contest 2012. I had hopes of receiving a prize for this one, but I didn't win. However, my nephew asked for a copy and later told me that it hung on his bulletin board. I understood I had won on a much deeper level a prize that money could not buy. I thought I would share it with my blog readers and followers. This event occurred in 1980 and was a moment of truth that changed my life and has guided every step of my life afterwards. There are no "do-overs" in life and no turning back from the choices we make.