Breathing in the Beauty – 2008 – Archive-Diving

November 24, 2012 By

This post was originally written about four years ago and was probably the first time 
I wrote about the restorative qualities of time spent at Butterfly Beach.
I kept personal posts off of the blog until the beginning of 2011 and am now 
editing a few of them as I prepare to transfer my blog to a new site.
You’ll note that we were both still working at this point in time.
You’ll also notice that I write about some of the very same themes today.

Last week, the weather turned warm and balmy. Dick had been in southern CA working from Tues-Thurs and it was Friday, with an afternoon off for both of us. I came back from errand running and said, “Let’s drive down to the beach!”


We each picked up a book to read, drove the two miles straight down the hill and parked on the slope of Channel Drive, just above this old cypress tree. With both front windows down, the moon-roof open and the seats leaning about as far back as we could get them, we slowly sank into the beauty of this place in which we are blessed to live.

Winter is the best time of the year at the beach in Santa Barbara. No tourists. No crowds. The sun sets directly over the water, the dolphins and sea lions come in close to the shore and the birds hang out in droves.

We are both tired, the kind of tired that seeps into your bones. The kind of tired that has little connection to how much sleep or exercise you’re getting. It’s the kind of tired that builds up over many months of watching people you love suffer greatly. It’s the kind of tired that comes from grieving the death of someone dear, and the related losses that come with that: the death of dreams and hopes and plans.

We know where this deep tiredness is coming from and we know it cannot be avoided. It’s part and parcel of living to have to deal with grief and it cannot be gotten around, only walked through. But last Friday afternoon, we were so grateful for a chance to just sit and breathe in the beauty of God’s world for a couple of hours.

Dick napped a little, I read a lot, and I just sat and looked out at the ocean a lot. The sight, sound and smell of the ocean is like medicine for what ails me – it truly brings healing and comfort. And a reminder that there is a bigness to God and to God’s creation that can handle all the pain and struggle we suffer in this life. Perhaps even more powerfully true than that, it is a reminder to look for the beauty around us, wherever it can be found. And to take a little time to savor it and let it speak.
Filed Under: Archive-Diving, Beauty, death, God's gifts, personal journey

Girls’ Day Out – Fall, 2008 – Archive-Diving

November 19, 2012 By

It was raining Saturday. Enough to keep the windshield wipers in full-time swish mode for the entire drive from here back through the hills to Ojai.


My two daughters, my daughter-in-law and I climbed into my trusty blue Honda Pilot and braved the elements to visit the world-famous Spa Ojai at the Ojai Valley Inn.

A most interesting experience – not something that we do with any frequency at all (a first visit to the place for 3 of the 4 of us) – and one that we enjoyed.

The place was busy, busy, busy. No sign of economic crisis here! Literally dozens of people, all wearing white spa robes, sitting, resting, hot-tubbing, sipping cold water with sliced cucumber and mint or warming up with hot herbal tea. In the women’s hot tub area, every single chaise lounge was filled with a white-robed, resting female.

One exception to the white robes was a mother daughter pair, there to celebrate the daughter’s 21st birthday, dressed identically in hot pink tank tops with gold sequined hearts spread across the entire front.

I must admit to some hesitance in disrobing in a common locker space, no matter how elegant. It’s been a while! All of us remembered high school gym class and the mixed emotions of that entire experience. But as I allowed myself to relax, I began to notice that there were all kinds and types of women around me – every decade, every size, every shape. Not a ton of racial or ethnic diversity, but a little. Most were there to unwind, to step away from the swirl of daily life for a few hours, and that’s a very good thing. Too bad it’s such an expensive thing – at least at this particular place!

My recently widowed eldest daughter Lisa had received a loving gift from some family members in the form of a gift card for the spa and she wanted to treat us all to a pedicure. We did it in twos, and I must say it was a lovely, indulgent, softly sensuous experience.

As you can see by the delightfully scrubbed, trimmed and painted toenails above, we all chose different colors, but ended up with the same affect: rested bodies and spirits. I also had a massage – in a beautiful small room with its own small fireplace and a heated massage table. Bliss.

Then we dined in the spa restaurant for a late lunch, enjoying the outing and the time together. The drive home was rain-free and absolutely gorgeous. Rolling green hills and a leisurely water-side mile or two along Lake Casitas.

We arrived in time to freshen up, join the men/boys and then dine out together at Piatti’s to celebrate our eldest grandson’s 18th birthday, returning home to yet another intense sensual experience – chocolate cake! – homemade with love and skill by our daughter-in-law. Dark cake, dark ganache, nutella on one layer, hazelnuts on the outside edge and chopped up Skor bars in the filling. Oh my, my, my.

Overall, it was a very delightful and relaxing weekend together – despite a few bad colds and one very sick 3-year-old who coughed so hard, he had to go home from the restaurant to clean up and recover before rejoining us just in time for dinner – which he devoured. Can’t let great homemade mac and cheese go to waste!

I am more grateful for the gift of family than I can possibly put into words. Each of these women is a remarkable individual – caring, smart and beautiful. We have walked through an intensely difficult time together and will continue to try and find our way through this wilderness territory called grief, dependent on God and one another to make it to the other side.

And freshly painted toenails are their own strange and wonderful therapy!
Filed Under: Archive-Diving, family, grief

“When I’m 64…” – 2009 – Archive-Diving

November 19, 2012 By


Well, in 95 minutes, I will be.


Who woulda thunk it? How is it possible to feel every age I’ve ever been – but this one, least of all?

At some points, my 14 year old self is just inside my skin – especially when I feel naive, gullible, misled.

At other points, my feisty, unnecessarily self-confident 22 year old self pops up and surprises me with her strong opinions and readiness to express them.

There are even those rare moments when a tall-for-her-age 5 year old shows up, filled with joie-de-vivre whenever the sun is shining and the water is clear.

Sadly, the 64 year old shows up when I have to stand up after sitting a while, or climb stairs that are uneven, or try to read the really fine print. And yet…there is something to be said for age. Not much, but….something.

Perhaps the best thing is that every age I have ever been is still available to me at a moment’s notice, that what I’ve learned at each of those ages is usually pretty close to the surface when needed, that I know that the reservoirs of love, affection, commitment developed over a lifetime are deeper than I could have imagined at 5, 14, 22 or even 45.

I am deeply grateful that my partner of 43 years still chooses to love me, ‘when I’m 64.’

And overall, life has been good; through it all, God is good.

My restless, often rebellious nature can still trip me up from time to time, but one good thing about 64 is that I have learned to be just a little bit more patient with those parts of myself, sometimes even grateful for them.

Restlessness can lead to dissatisfaction with the status quo and a willingness to make changes when needed.

Even rebelliousness has its plusses, for asking questions about seemingly foregone conclusions can keep the fires of curiosity burning. And I never did believe it killed the cat!

Happy Birthday to me. I am glad I was born, I am grateful for my life, I hope it lasts a while longer.
Filed Under: Aging, Archive-Diving, birthdays

Light and Dark – Spring, 2007 (Archive-Diving)

November 19, 2012 By

I am about to undergo a blog ‘makeover,’ so I’m looking things over around here. And I’ve found a few draft pieces that never got published. From time to time over the next month or so, I will publish them, but I will note that these are from a time long past. Those of you who have followed this blog in the last two years will recognize the two babies featured here – they are now active, bright, fun and fearsome 7-year-olds, and we have added another little girl to our family circle. Mark died about 18 months after I wrote this piece and three years later, our daughter re-married. (Their engagement and wedding story are told here, here, here, and, finally, here. I have not yet been able to write very much about Mark’s death, but there is one post about our final good-bye to him to be found here. )

Despite the pressures of a remodel gone terribly, terribly wrong; despite the gnawing concern about my son-in-law’s health and my daughter’s intensive education program; despite my own recurrent struggles with overeating and under-exercising, with my own idiosyncratically strange mix of laziness, drivenness, self-doubt and grandiosity – despite the various stresses and messes of my life and my family’s life and my community’s life…this has been a Holy Week filled with gratitude and grace.

Our immediate family of 15 had a sweet afternoon together one week before this week began. Dick turned 65 and we all gathered together at a tappan restaurant in Thousand Oaks on a Sunday afternoon. We had two super samurai chefs, with their slicing and dicing and volcano-making skills dazzling us all.


We laughed as Dick donned a strange looking headpiece and bright blue kimono for a birthday picture. Then we traveled to Lisa and Mark’s home to enjoy birthday cake and babies. These two beautiful gifts of God have lightened and brightened our family gatherings for 18 months now, reminding us, even in the midst of all the pain and uncertainty of Mark and Lisa’s struggle, that life is a glorious gift, no matter what. They are living reminders of all that is good and beautiful, fun and fragile about this world.


Griffin is 18 months old, full of vinegar, climbing all over everywhere and keeping his mom awake most of the night. He is comical, loves to giggle, babbles to himself constantly – complete with inflection – moves around as quick as lightning and his smile lights up the room.

Gracie is 17 months old, loves to dance and sing, and recently, she too, is busy babbling to herself. Very soon now, they will both burst forth with full-fledged sentences and stun us all. Put them together in the same space, and the real fun begins. Whether stacking colored, wooden rings or banging out harmonies on the piano, they are quite a pair.


Life is such a bittersweet experience, filled with wonder and grief. How very grateful I am for these two precious reminders of all that is wonder-filled and glorious about the human experience.

Filed Under: Archive-Diving, family, God's gifts, memoir, remodel, The Grandkids
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