Categories
Musing About Life

Thoughts on a Deathbed or Dying a Good Death

Wow. Such a title is not neccesarily morbid as our culture may think. At a recent “Pencraft” meeting, this was a topic I randomly chose to write about as we picked writing prompts to stretch us into unfamiliar creative territory. Plumbing the depths of our hearts can aid us in setting life goals about the lasting things that really matter. I have sat with, cared for, sung over loved ones, friends and patients as they have transitioned into life’s final journey. It has always been an honor to stand on that holy ground. Considering such a trek for myself and spontaneously writing about it was an adventure of the most unique and precious kind. As I finish this piece I am informed that someone I love is no longer living on the earth. I dedicate this to my dear friend Ruth, who completed her Heavenly journey in the approach of today’s wee hours. Love you forever, Ruth.

This is not how I thought it would be. But then again, I don’t know what I thought.

It was always the unknown, the un-know-able, the someday late in my future. But here we are, in the everlasting now.

What used to be so important in dailiness now seems so far away on the outside of this inner secret place I am in. It reminds me of the labor process I entered into so long ago to birth my children. Intuitively intimate and on the verge…

I am grateful to have kept short accounts, to have lived with issues resolved, relationships clear, as much as it has depended on me.

This is much simpler than I had imagined. Now, nothing else matters, except to have loved.

The parade of memories is passing before me, just like I have heard about. In it, I see my husband, my children, my friends, my parents gone before me, my seasons of life and yes… my Papa’s Fingerprints. Broken times with evidences of Your Presence, like lingering essence of supernatural highlighter on life’s trail.

I bid farewell to my body friend, thanking her for her service to me. “You have carried me around for so many years. You have been faithful and have done your best. Thank-you. I honor you. I bless you.”

And now the room is getting darker, yet…so much brighter. How can that be? A luminescence of otherness is turning up, like on a supernatural dimmer switch. my thoughts are of my children, my grandchildren. my heart calls out to them, “Walk with your God. Never give up. Here, take the baton from me.” Am I saying those words or just thinking them? The voice coming through me sounds so far away.

My hands feel cold. I watch one reach to my husband, the love of my life. The other reaches to my Abba, The Lover of my soul,…my essence.

Who will you be for me now, Abba? I can smell your scent coming closer. It moves toward me and is so familiar. I have known it in those secret places of life and loss and grief and surrender and love with you. And now I am surrounded by You and held by a Love more real than anything I have ever known.

You. Love, is all there is. I cannot help but reach toward You. I hear myself saying with assurance, “So this…is what it is like to die well. Papa…” and my outstretched arms fall.

Categories
Inspiration

Praise for the Wonder

Recently I had the honor of delivering a hard cover copy of “The Wondrous Story of the Little Shoe” to a local young mother of twins. Since it was a contactless delivery, I missed the initial encounter of this mom with the book. The precious note I later received that day is a message I shall forever treasure:

“Dear Chris,

The kids are napping, but I couldn’t wait to read it. I’m crying. What a beautiful story and captured in such an adorable way. I especially love the picture of you praising Papa God. Your illustrator did a fantastic job capturing you!!!! Wow. “

From real image to illustration …the joy.
Categories
Musing About Life

Writing Comes

Sometimes you need help to rise above the ugliness that can surround. You need something bigger than you to come pull you into a sacred space, a safe place where you can rest a while and have courage put back into you. Sometimes, writing comes…

Writing comes to capture a feeling, a nuance

of a time and place my soul wishes to preserve.

It is as if the pen harvests an encounter

and sows it into my deep places

to draw on, to smell, taste

and linger in the moment for all time.

Writing comes, a lifelong friend

to help me preserve what is

most real and wondrous about life.

Writing comes.

Christine O’Riley

Categories
Inspiration

The Story That Keeps on Living and Giving

Recently, a Great Grandma who has been following “The Wondrous Story of the Little Shoe” wrote me to share her own story of wonder after purchasing two copies of the beloved book. I was so inspired by her words that I asked her permission to share with you. May you be touched as I was by her amazing tale of a story that keeps on living…and giving.

“Christine, I want you to know I bought two “The Wondrous Story of the Little Shoe” books for my Great Grandchildren. Two days ago they came from London for the holidays. Last night I went to see them at my daughter’s and I brought a book so they could read it. I would let them know that I knew who wrote it. When I got there I could not find it so I thought it must have dropped out of my car. Now I had a lost book. My heart was broken.

When I got home I searched under my car, searched in my house and still couldn’t find it. So I said a little prayer. I thought it was lost forever. I went back to check my car with a flashlight and I couldn’t believe what I saw. Between the seats I found my glasses that I lost two months ago. Thank-you, Lord. And I also found the book over my visor!

So I guess the lost will always be found. I just thought you would like my adventure. I just had to share it with you.

I forgot to tell you, my one-year-old great grandson’s name is Colin.”

Thank-you for reading. Please feel free to share your story of the lost being found as in “The Wondrous Story of the Little Shoe.”

The multi-generational story keeps on living…and giving.
Categories
Musing About Life

Merry: It’s Not What You Think

For years I have loved the greeting “Merry Christmas” given at this time of year. As a child growing up in Northern N.Y., it was a warm, welcoming phrase familiar to me, expressed in the public square amidst the holiday bustle. It was a salutation of safe tradition and jolly gathering for the religious and non-religious alike. It had that “something extra” about it. What I have learned about the word “merry” over the past few years however, has changed my understanding of this greeting and actually empowered it for me in a transforming way. Let me share with you…

My encounter with “merry” began as I researched the background of the song “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” I had always thought of it as a happy song, expressing positivity but with an urging toward relaxation that involved human effort. When the opportunity to sing it in a local program occurred, I thought it would be fascinating to explore its history.

My sources were the Oxford English Dictionary, Deeproots mag.org. and Wikepdia. This traditional English carol is considered the oldest in existence, dating back to the 16th century. No one really knows who wrote it. At that time, the religious establishment frowned upon any joyful music within the four walls of the church building, so this Christmas song was written in a minor key, thought of traditionally to be darker and more pensive.

In that day “rest” meant “to keep, cause to continue, to remain.” In the vernacular of the 1500s, “merry” translated more accurately “mighty, “strong” like Robin Hood’s merry (mighty) men. The comma in the title of the carol was originally and correctly placed after “merry,” and so the heading of this piece would be correctly spoken, “God rest ye merry, gentlemen,” or more accurately and true to meaning, “God keep and cause you to remain mighty, gentlemen.”

How curious to be made and kept mighty! Perhaps the reminder of the first verse lends some meaning to this phrase:

“God keep you mighty, gentlemen, let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day, to save us all from Satan’s power when we were gone astray. Oh tidings of comfort and joy! Comfort and joy ! Oh tidings of comfort and joy!”

In the midst of a dark time in history, you could look your neighbor in the eye and bring kind power and encouragement (putting courage back into)to them by speaking “Mighty Christmas.”

So consider the unknown author of these words had a revelatory experience that because of Jesus Christ being born and completing his earthly assignment, we here on earth can be made and kept mighty and strong in God’s keeping power against our enemy of evil.

That right there is good news and apparently way too strong and mighty to be contained within the four walls of religious oppression. So, when the singers of this oldest of all carols were cast outside of those four walls, their exuberant joy was released in the village square as they sang and changed the atmosphere of their time. Christmas caroling was born. I think that’s what God always had in mind the entire time.

So, in midst of these times, even though I may not be physically with you in this moment, I want to look you in the eyes of your soul through this writing in the village square and sincerely say… Mighty Christmas, dear one.

Thanks for reading.

Categories
Poetry

Christmas Lights

At Christmas time, the most humble and overlooked places can share in the wonder of this supernatural time. It was during such a lowly encounter as this, I tried to capture and preserve in writing a few illuminated moments so as to never forget. Perhaps I was tapping in to the sense of that very first Christmas…

Old-fashioned glow of lights

in obscure places

announces Christmas’s approach

when illumination heightens

the everyday ordinary

into the glorious.

Even in a darkened hallway

with one Noel candle present,

Heaven and nature sing.

Chris O’Riley 2012

Thanks for reading.

Categories
Events

And the winner is…

So here we are at the end of an exciting contest where entrants have shared their stories of something precious and lost being found and joyfully returned. In the spirit of The Wondrous Story of the Little Shoe, I want to thank all who participated in sharing your life story. You honored me by doing so and I am grateful.

And now to announce…the winner of an author-signed copy of The Wondrous Story of the Little Shoe is … Anne Kinney ! Congratulations, Anne! I will be contacting you to make arrangements of how to get your book to you when books are published in the VERY near future.

At this moment, I am awaiting a proof copy of the book to be delivered to me to inspect. Upon my approval, we will go to press!

If you are interested in purchasing a copy for yourself, a child or grandchild, please private message me and we can set it up. If you would like it signed, please include who it is for and an interesting fact about them so I can make the signing special.

God bless you, everyone.

“An enchanting story meant to be read aloud and enjoyed with loved ones. From the wondrous illustrations to the delightful rhyming cadence, The Wondrous Story of the Little Shoe has a lasting message for all ages.” —-Donna Sloan, author, An Adirondack Grandma
Categories
Musing About Life

No Loss of life

I had battled to get home from the hospital that late evening. The weather was as the 3 to 11 shift had been…unpredictable, furiously windy with wild rain beating down. My car seemed to find its own way down the darker than usual wet midnight streets where shadows shifted in and out of my persevering path.

Exhausted as I was, a strange restlessness greeted me as I found my bed. Hours passed but sleep did not come. As I listened to the wind howl and shake, a specific sense of something needing to be done became increasingly apparent. I had learned from similar times in the past that this could mean someone or something needed help for protection or to see a different outcome. It was a type of summons from Heaven to join in specific prayer for an urgent need.

Numb, my tired body made its way downstairs, seeming to be led, as I looked out into the night where the trees swayed and bent, buffeted in the storm that came in the wake of Hurricane Sandy. I lifted up the names of my children, their spouses, my grandchildren, siblings and family. There was a peace about them all. That was not it. I waited.

Suddenly I heard a single word in my spirit. “Queens.” And then an instruction: “Stretch out your hand towards Queens.” The only place I knew with that name was in New York City, many miles away, East of Rochester, where I lived. I happened to be facing East and so I stretched out my hand in that direction. What happened next came through me but not from me.

“There will be no loss of life tonight in Queens, N.Y. I declare life and protection with no loss of life.” I heard the words come through me with matter of fact authority, like a decree. Suddenly there was a release with an acute awareness that work had been accomplished and all was well.

The restlessness lifted. Intense drowsiness now came as I returned to bed and immediate sleep overcame me.

The next morning I was puttering around my kitchen when the volume of the TV in the living room suddenly increased. Wondering what happened, I wandered in to take a look just in time to see a newsreel moving along the bottom of the TV screen from right to left.

“Massive five alarm fire sweeps through twelve apartments in building in Queens, N.Y. Cause undetermined. No loss of life.” The message repeated as I stood there in surreal amazement, unable to move.

Tears flowed as my grateful heart encountered the intense, overwhelming supernatural goodness of the One who had summoned me from my bed to join in the work of Heaven that night. A path had been paved on the earth for intervention. I believe angelic assignments were dispatched. The natural course of an event with an impending disaster was interrupted and changed to see, miraculously, on that dark hurricane night, no loss of life.

heart and zero neon light signage
Photo by Prateek Katyal on Pexels.com
Categories
Events

Win a copy of “The Wondrous Story of the Little Shoe”

Find out how, here!

“Grandma Searching”…original watercolor by Corinne K. Avery for “The Wondrous Story of the Little Shoe” …

Have you ever lost something precious, prayed to find it, either deliberately or unconsciously… and joyfully found it?

If so, please share your story in 50 -100 words in the comments section of this blog, leaving your name. All those participating in this fun contest will have their names entered into a drawing to win a copy of The Wondrous Story of the Little Shoe signed by the author. With your permission, I will also share your story by sharing this blog on Facebook, with updates. Please indicate by adding “permission given” next to your name.

This opportunity starts immediately today, Saturday 10/ 24 and will end on Monday 11/ 2 at 6:00 pm. Winner will be announced on Tuesday evening 11/3.

I look forward to reading your story of The Precious and Lost, Found.

Thank-you for participating.

Categories
Poetry

Morning Visit Verse

Early morning hours brought an unexpected gentle encounter with a young deer discovering crab apples in my front yard today. We live next to the woods but it has been some time since I enjoyed such a visit. Autumn brings her own enchantment. This moment was a special gift that I attempted to capture and share here.

Here for a morning visit,

quiet steps upon the ground

head lifted, for our eyes to meet

apple grazing, not a sound.

From the cover of the woodlands

journeyed to my yard to be

a docent of the autumn’s reigning

this morning’s wonder gift to me.

Chris O’Riley, October 22, 2020

Gentle morning encounter… looking wide-eyed at me.