Memory for Max, Claire, Ida and Company

Fay – “I wish my son would come, I’m so lonesome. Who am I to talk to? I don’t hear from my son . . . I don’t see any of my family – it’s unbelievable. I just sit here.”

Ida – “At least I’m not bothering people. . . now I’m doing nothing and I should be doing something.”
Interviewer – “what would you like to do here?”
Ida – “Be with people. . . The last years are not good. It’s good that I can think back and see faces in my mind. If I didn’t have that I’d go crazy.”

Fay – “I wish I was dead.”

Ida – “when you’re married to a man and you realize that you are his life, you don’t want anything else after that. . . After he died I saw a change in myself. My body changed, I changed – he was one wonderful guy. I was the luckiest woman and then he left me. God took him away. I don’t know how I did it. Where do the years go?”

Claire – “My daughter never had time for me.”

(quotes from Memory for Max, Claire, Ida and Company)

Tori and I watched a documentary on TVO last night called Memory for Max, Claire, Ida and Company, an actuality drama by Alan King. It showed life in a Toronto nursing home and how some of the residents were coping with old age.

We sat for 2 hrs watching. I cried a lot of the time. My heart just broke for each of the “characters” as they shared their pain and lost their memories. I’ve always had a tender heart for the elderly. I remember visiting a nursing home when I was a Brownie and for weeks just crying at night because I felt so sad for those “old” people. Also when I was working at the tea room, I encountered a lot of elderly widows. I found myself very drawn to them, in that I wanted to help. Their loneliness was so apparent. As a result I have involved myself in Mrs. Chrisitie's widows ministry because there is a desperate need for some sort of community for those ladies, a lot of whom are not saved and seem to be grasping for hope.

That documentary last night really reiterated the loneliness in the elderly that has always been so apparent to me. As I was watching I felt an urge to head over to the nursing home down the street, sit down with a lonely elderly person and just listen to them in an effort to if only for a moment help them forget their loneliness. But as I walked in the door last night, I noticed my grandma’s cane and I suddenly remembered her desperate plea for me not to leave her .

How is it that it so often takes the voice of a complete stranger to make me realize what is beneath my nose (in this case a documentary)? Why doesn’t my heart break for my grandma as it did for Claire, Ida, Max and the others from that film? Why is it so easy for me to ignore her loneliness and frustration? Why am I constantly rolling my eyes when she claims that she wants to die, yet wept for the lady who said exactly that in the film last night?

The words of those people rang so true. My grandma is so similar – wanting to die, being lonely, changing so much after my grandpa died.

Who am I fooling? The loneliness of the elderly has not been apparent to me at all, and when it has been I’ve flat out ignored it. I don’t need to go down the street to listen to a person in the nursing home; I need to pay attention to the loneliness of a woman who lives under the same roof as me.

What was it that I heard a couple of months ago? Something like, service starts in your own home. I’ve been failing miserably, consumed by my own selfishness, deliberately ignoring the pain that comes from aging. Maybe I just don’t want to see my grandma that way. She was always such a vibrant, energetic, strong lady who wore her heart on her sleeve. Now she’s just miserable and I know it’s her loneliness. No matter how much time we spend with her she’ll never get over the loneliness of losing her husband, but sometimes I think by leaving her out of my life I make her feel more lonely.

Before I go anywhere she needs to understand that when I leave it won’t be an attack on her. What I so desperately need her to know is how much of a legacy she has left in my life. In many ways she has influenced who I am. She has always been a model of love, self sacrifice, and strength for me.

I think it’s time for me to start modeling some of the very things that she has taught me - not at the nursing home down the street, but here at home.

1 Tim 5:4
But if she (a widow) has children or grandchildren, their first responsibility is to show godliness at home and repay their parents by taking care of them. This is something that pleases God very much.

My Grandma's Plea

A couple of weeks ago my 86 year old grandma came to me while I was in the kitchen making lunch. She was crying so hard that she could barely speak. She came, pulled my arm and looked at me and said, “Please don’t leave me, don’t go away, don’t move yet. I’ll be so lonely.” I guess my mom and dad have been sharing with her my plans to move in the near future.

On my way back to work that afternoon, I was upset. How could she do that to me - lay a guilt trip on me like that? I can’t live at home forever just because she’s lonely! She could have another 14 years left in her. I’m almost 28 years old! It's time for me to jet!
But there was such desperation in her voice . . . .

Valentine's Day Greeting

Mike and I have decided to go into the business of writing Valentine's Day greeting cards.

Here's our first attempt:

I love you on Feb 13th and I love you on Feb 15th,

so what's the big deal about Feb 14?

Looking Roberto in the Eye

The other day when Virginia and I were downtown taking some artsy headshots for my upcoming auditions, we met a man named Roberto. Virginia was in the middle of giving me some sort of direction on how to pose in the snow, both of us were rather self absorbed, when out of nowhere a man appeared. He was a man in his late 30's, wearing glasses, dressed warmly in a hooded parka- he looked pretty normal. He stood for a minute trying to figure out what we were doing. Of course being 2 young women on a downtown side street, V and I were a little nervous and were really hoping that he would just go away.

Then he asked "I really hate to bother you ladies, and I know I'm probably creeping you out, but I'm in need of $2. The homeless shelter down the street is full and because it's so cold out I'd like to stay in a hostel for the night." I was kind of taken aback, not by him asking for money but by the fact that he was turned away from the shelter and had to resort to asking for money to stay elsewhere. I didn't have my wallet on me and I felt horrible that I couldn't give him anything. Virginia gave him a $5 bill. "Oh here's 3$ change, I really only need $2," He said. Imagine that, a homeless man providing change! Something inside prompted me to "risk" having a conversation with him. I looked him in the eye and asked him how he felt about having to resort to this. I just couldn't believe the situation he was in, nor could I imagine the frustration. It seemed ridiculous. For him it was old hat. He told me that this was what usually happened. As he began to walk away, I apologized for not being able to help him more. "But," I said in desperation, "I will be praying for you." He stopped, turned to looked at me, smiled and with such sincerity said "thank you, I'd really appreciate that, my name is Roberto." And off he walked. I'll probably never see that man again, but I have found myself thinking a lot about him this week.

All I really remember about Roberto were his eyes. How many times have I walked by a homeless person on the street without giving them a second look, or with every effort avoided looking at them so that they wouldn't harass me for money. As I looked Roberto in the eyes I saw that he was a man no different from me - just different circumstances. He was a man who had a soul, a man who had dreams, a man who had needs, a man who had struggles, a man who was frustrated. What I really saw was that Roberto was a man who needed a saviour more than anything - just like me. If only I could do more.

I have realized this week how often I avoid looking others in the eye , especially those who seem hard to understand and to love. You know the old saying, "the eyes are the window to the soul"? It's true. It's easier to avoid looking another in the eye because in many ways it forces us to see ourselves in them. I'd be a fool to think that that's all that's required in order to reach out to others, it's a first step though. How can we help those in need if we can't genuinely make an effort to see who they are and relate to them as fellow human beings. If we can't look them in their eyes how can we ever expect to see life through their eyes?

I imagine that all of the gospel stories of Jesus interacting with people, whether it be the poor, the outcasts, the disciples, the prostitutes, the tax collectors etc. Have one thing in common - the stories really begin with Jesus looking each of them in the eye in an effort to affirm that He knows them, understands them and unconditionally loves them.

My prayer for Roberto ~ That he will meet someone who will not be afraid to look him in the eye and as a result will see the same thing I saw in him - a bit of myself. I pray that this person will actually go beyond the first step and will somehow affirm for Roberto that Jesus Christ is the only One who will ever really know Him, understand Him and unconditionally love Him.

The computer geek performs surgery

How does a diva know for certain that she has fully entered into the world of Computer Geekism?

When she finds herself taking out a screw driver in order to open up the bottom of her laptop to see if she can diagnose the technological problem at hand.

Yes that was me tonight. I almost died when after a couple hours of failed uploads, downloads, diagnosis scans etc the Dell tech support lady prompted me to find a star headed screw driver so that I could open up the bottom of the computer. At that moment I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Really, as if a diva would have a star headed screw driver just lying around! As I was running around the house searching for a screw driver I was thinking ‘Is this lady nuts? Who am I becoming? If I open up the computer I’m gonna blow the house up.’

I ended up performing emergency surgery on my laptop tonight. When I was diligently saving up to buy a laptop for a year somehow I failed to picture myself having to open the darn thing up and be forced to see it’s geeky innards and organs, ick!! I think I may actually be traumatized by the whole procedure. I just might have reoccurring nightmares about all those nerdy technological guts and beep bops and doohickeys that I was forced to fiddle with inside my computer. What makes it worse is that the Surgery failed. Didn’t work. So now finally after months of issues with the darn thing it’s time to send the computer back to Dell for them to perform the needed surgery. And I find myself again having to save all of my files elsewhere so that they won’t be lost (this is the 3rd time - I’ve had the computer since November – grrrrrr!!)

I must say that there is a perk to this constant problem - I now have several fellow computer geek friends in India. Those Dell tech. support people are quite nice. There's Bhupinder, Roger, David, and Shanila and after spending up to 5 hrs on the phone at a time with them, we couldn’t help but form a bond. At least I know that I’m not alone and that this computer geek thing is global, united we stand . . . . . .

Waaaaaaa!!! I’ve become a computer geek against my own will, and I don’t wanna be one!!! What has this done to my Diva reputation? Stupid Dell!!!!

Lessons from Auntie Diva - the tiara philosophy

(Julia and Auntie Diva hang out while wearing their sparkly tiaras)

Diva Lesson #3

A true diva must master the art of wearing a tiara

Auntie Diva's tiara philosophy: The dreary things in life are made more bearable by the wearing of a tiara. The simple act of wearing a tiara can provide motivation to do the things that she rather wouldn't be doing such as: exercising at the gym, working at the fertility clinic, grocery shopping, doing house work (ick!) etc. Of course wearing a tiara while doing even the things she likes to do has it's definite perks. It doesn't have to be an expensive piece of jewelry as long as it sparkles and has lots of glitter (Auntie Diva's favourite tiara designer? Mr. Dolla Rama). Somehow the wearing of a tiara brings comfort to the Diva, she doesn't wear it to impress others, or remind them of her significance in the world. The diva wears a tiara because it makes her feel special, it reminds her of the princess that she really is deep inside.

An Die Musik

An die Musik

Du holde Kunst, in wieviel grauen Stunden,

Wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis umstrickt,

Hast du mein Herz zu warmer Lieb entzunden,

Hast mich in eine beßre Welt entrückt!
Oft hat ein Seufzer, deiner Harf' entflossen,

Ein süßer, heiliger Akkord von dir

Den Himmel beßrer Zeiten mir erschlossen,

Du holde Kunst, ich danke dir dafür!

To Music

Oh sacred art, how oft in hours blighted,

While into life's untamed cycle hurled,

Hast thou my heart to warm love reignited

To transport me into a better world!

So often has a sigh from thy harp drifted,

A sweeter chord from thee, holy and full of bliss,

A glimpse of better times from heaven lifted

Thou sacred art, my thanks to thee for this.

3 hrs of sitting at the piano, going through the dreadfully slow process of learning new arias. As frustration began to settle in I noticed my Schubert Lieder book sitting off in the corner on the shelf. I haven't touched that book in years. I decided to flip through the book for fun and began to sing through some of the lieder that I had sung in my early singing days. I soon came across the very first art song that I ever learned, An die Musik. Singing through the piece brought back so many memories. I remember trying at the naive age of 15 to desperately learn the German, listening to my teacher speak the words on a tape and repeating after her over and over. And then there were the technical voice issues, always listening to myself and trying my hardest to sound "pretty". It was so important that I did justice to this song because it seemed like an opportunity to prove myself. The poetry was moving but expressing the true meaning behind it didn't concern me all that much.

12 years later as I sang through the piece last night, this time it was the poetry that caught my attention. The poetry used in the lied expresses in many ways how music has so often changed me. Music has really permeated my life to a degree where it has transformed me into the person that I am. How many times have I been shaped by not only the music I'm studying or performing but by the music I listen to - on the radio, on a Cd, at a concert, at church?

Music is indeed a "sacred" art - a gift given from God, and although An Die Musik poetically thanks "music" itself, I can do nothing but thank the One who created music. I thank the one who gave it to the world. I thank the One who has used music to abundantly bless my life. My God has used the language of music to speak to me; to teach me about Himself, myself and others; to lift me up when I am down; to show me my weaknesses; to challenge me; to ultimately provide a means of self expression. Who would I be if He hadn't used the art of music to profoundly change me? I just can't imagine my life without music, it is an incessant part of who I am.

Funny how singing through a simple Schubert lied about music can even cause change, somehow three hours of tedious note bashing doesn't seem as frustrating anymore.