Being Present, Being Friend, In Turmoil, Able to Mend

CHAPTER 3 "Being Present, Being Friend, In Turmoil, Able to Mend." The lines’ rhyming design appealed to her, but Teacher-Turned-Student wasn't completely certain why the words belonged together until the day unfolded. As she started her morning asking for guidance, the words, "Hallowed by Thy Name" resonated deeper than the rest. "Hallowed."

"What does that mean?" she was asking herself, as a text message dropped into her phone from a friend who had invited her into a prayer group. This morning, the note dropped in to just her, not to the whole group.

Friend was sick and in great turmoil. Teacher-Turned-Student listened, did her best to console, then asked:

Tell me, what does 'Hallowed' mean to you?

In their chat, it became clear that His Presence to each, and to each other, and their reverence to Him made a beautiful little circle. And, it all made everything shine more brightly.

Teacher-Turned-Student continued to text with her friend:

Hallowed, I feel like I see glimpses of it… like how everyone's Spirit that we encounter adds to our own? I know when I'm around yours, friend, I am filled ten fold. I'm a better person with every loving person I meet. I think you know what I'm talking about. Because I see you glow around other open people as well!

The reply:

Yes, I know what you mean for sure… love your ideas. I think Hallowed is like the glow you're talking about… Hallowed, reverence for God. It's like he's the ultimate charged being and we have to keep our battery charged by being with him, especially in nature.

Very cool thing I'm reading about now is called Earthing...

and using sheets and a pillow case that are wired to the grounding part of the plug in our houses. It mimics being barefoot and getting the electrons from the earth like we're always meant to. Now we have houses and shoes that keep God's goodness from us. Earthing helps with sleep, inflammation, pain etc. fascinating.

Teacher-Turned-Student read the text a second time. It was exactly what she needed today, a bit of His Grounding! She replied:

My mouth just dropped. To the ground. Beautiful. That's it! Penny's walk today isn't around the block. Heading into the woods... thanks to you. Will be asking God to help us both.

Have a peaceful day!

We sure try, don't we?

Teacher-Turned-Student never actually made it to their Friday morning prayer meetings, but she did accept quite gratefully the texting link of praying woman throughout each week. Prayers needed for Bob, prayers needed for Sadie, prayers needed for Mom. For me, maybe? The thoughtfulness and open spirituality of the women always left her humbled. In the middle of any given day, she could always count on someone to be on the other side of a prayer with her. Prayers for the grieving parents and grandparents. Prayers for the accused? Again, she wondered, a prayer for me?

A dear friend told her a wonderful little story once, where upon going to sleep, she asked God if it was right to pray for herself. An unexpected tickle in her friend's nose erupted a loud sneeze. Her husband, who was sleeping beside her in bed, awoke and said. "God bless you."

She fell asleep peacefully.

Teacher-Turned-Student loved her friend and her story.

Yes, a prayer for me.

Teacher-Turned-Student pulled herself from the coffee hour chair, then pulled a large pink grapefruit from the refrigerator. As she cut it in half and grabbed the small juicer, she realized how amazed she was with her increased strength each day. The broken wing was healing. Slicing the fruit into halves was not an effort anymore. The first half of the fruit onto the little manual juicer, she found herself rotating it with her new favorite, left hand. As she rotated the fruit round and round she realized, though, that the challenge wasn't in perfecting how to use her left hand anymore, but it was to get her old favorite back in peak condition! To get that right hand to rotate the fruit round and round, she knew, would be her kind of physical therapy.

Decidedly, she moved the grapefruit to her right hand and turned. She stopped as she was jolted by a shooting pain through her achy and tight wrist. Slowly and more gently, she tried again. This time, the wrist didn't send a shot but just ached. She turned even more slowly. Checking the progress, she picked up the fruit and turned it over to see how much of the pink flesh was left. Somewhat discouraged, she fought the impulse to finish the job with her new friend, Lefty.

Hmmm… she paused. Thanks to what seemed like a refreshed approach in her life, she patiently breathed in, and again felt Love.

As she stopped for a break to contemplate how to go about the simple task, her Aunt Theresa came bursting back to life. Decades had passed, but the memories were bright. Among so many other things, her aunt had to learn to make and pour tea into a cup, after losing her eye sight to diabetes. She was taught by a home aid to put her left fingertip just inside the rim of her cup when pouring in the hot water. Her aunt picked up many, assorted, navigating tools and amazingly, never showed her, her sister or her brother that she was bothered by what she lacked. What was most obvious was the complete opposite. Aunt Theresa was full to the brim with love. Her twinkle, despite no vision, her gentle laughter whenever she heard a silly joke, her wonderfully welcoming way about her, her tenderness, all were more powerful than what she did not have. The smell of something in the oven was never a surprise when she and her dear, childhood friend would stop to visit her, and they visited often. There was just something so magnetic about her. Her aunt had a special kind of peace; Teacher-Turned-Student never really considered why until this moment. It was obvious that a gift was hers, but how did she get that gift?

Attention back to her task, she found herself moving the fruit in such a gentle and methodical way, she felt herself starting to sway with the rotation. Noticing the change, she winked to the heavens, thanking her aunt for being with her. While the first half of the fruit was an impatient, achy and frustrated mess, the second half of the fruit disappeared into the blender with ease. An over-ripe banana that had been tossed into freezer was next. Now, with newly found freedom from patience, she watched the big banana slices drop into the blender. Coconut milk was poured next. The weight of the half gallon container was so very noticeable in her wobbly wing. Finally, four ice cubes were dropped in. Blender blended, and breakfast was served. As she sipped the frothy concoction, she stretched her right fingers wide, gently at first, then pushed them further. The broken wing was now officially a mending wing. She squeezed her fingers closed and knew her kind of therapy might be a tad different than most.

The day before at a physical therapist's session, she was given a huge, wide, red, rubber band with which to work the wrist. The band was ugly to her, but the physical therapist was anything but ugly. She was a soft-spoken, gentle and patient woman. Teacher-Turned-Student was immediately relaxed in her presence. The examination started with the therapist seating her and delicately placing a pillow under her wing. The woman with care knelt on the floor beside her. With her sore and delicate arm in caring hands, she watched as the woman turned her arm gently and tended to her. A genuinely honest feeling of care was assuring and comforting. Yes, she'd do as she was told to work the rubber band, she was affirmed she could heal. This fine morning, she decided the idea of turning a grapefruit was a nice addition to her therapy. Thanking her Lord, she found herself saying His Prayer.

Still contemplating the meaning of "Hallowed," she knew whenever she didn't know an answer, she asked herself to think about The Son's teachings. The Greatest Gift is Love, she thought. What did that have to do with mending? If only she still had the Peace Path to go to, to get answers. She missed the Peace Path so much.

Obstinate, she called out to her trusted friend, Penny Lane, asked the pup if she'd like to go for a ride in the car, and grabbed the car key and leash. As she drove north, she thought to herself, “That priest can't keep me from our sacred place.”

Anger fueled from down deep. She also knew down deep, that this decision to go back was probably a bad one. It wasn't her place of comfort, anymore. It wasn't her place to work out her issues, anymore. It wasn't her place to teach from, or to learn from. And it no longer was their faith family’s to share. Yet, she found the car heading toward her church and the Closed-For-The-Season-Peace-Path.

Since the new priest had come in and leveled so much of what she and friends cared for, she carried so much anger, sadness and conflicting feelings.

THE PEACE PATH WAS ENDED

She knew it was not healthy nor wise to stay in this turmoil. She and others actually explored that message while building “The Bible Garden” years earlier. The Bible Garden was inside The Peace Path and was one of many that they called “The-Mini-Gardens-Within-The-Garden.”

Down a steep hill they had placed boulders right in the pathway and painted a word on each its own stone. On the first stone was painted FEAR. Down an incline was the second bigger stone with SORROW. Then, came DOUBT, ANGER, BETRAYAL, EGO. At the bottom of the hill, at the edge of an even steeper drop-off was a gnarly pile of sticks and twisted vines. They decided that they would never put a bench or any kind of place to stay or to rest. Rather, they built steps back out, with stones etched with the only voice that could carry one from such a downward spiral: "TRUST, HOPE, LOVE, LIGHT, FAITH, FORGIVENESS.."

At the top, the last step back out was "PEACE." Teacher-Turned-Student spent many days trying to determine the best order for those steps. A more enlightened person than her would have to come up with that answer, she mused.

She knew she still had all of the Bible quotes that a little team had etched into little wooden plaques. These quotes were placed along the edge of pathway on the way down and then on the way back out. She knew exactly where they were. She had removed them when the priest told her she was no longer welcome to work The Peace Path, nor would she be allowed to invite anyone there to meet with her. Yes, she still had so much of what they had all built and what they had learned together, discovered together. If only she could make enough time to share it now with others......

As Teacher-Turned-Student felt aches from so many different places, she remembered another lesson. She knew that she should not bury her problems. A duo of young lady Peace Path Gardeners brought that message to life, once, and built a stunning testament to it, showing wisdom far beyond their years. A display of forgotten debris was partially buried, halfway coming out of the ground. They had called her when they had finished. The creation left Teacher-Turned-Student in awe. A broken shovel, a rusty rake head, assorted, old parts that had been left behind all were unearthed as the gardeners worked. All of these pieces of "garbage" were made to come out of the surface beside the words: "Don't Bury Your Problems. Solve Them."

This Mini-Garden, she had been told, was moved to a new Peace Path since their closure news. She was so appreciative and was trying to hold on to that meaning, now, knowing that she had unresolved issues that were.. on a daily basis... being buried down further and further.

Should she give thanks for this state? Another message they explored came to her mind. It was from one of Father Tom's homilies from many years before. How she missed Father Tom's support of their work and his guidance. He taught them.. 'We are to give thanks for the struggles and the goodnesses of life.'

It was not easy to give thanks for what causes conflict. But, we don't get to chose which of this Life's elements are from God. Everything is from God. Hence, Free Will.

Teacher-Turned-Student recalled how the last step of the Bible Garden creation was to etch the word THANKS into wooden walking sticks. Then, the sticks were implanted in-between the boulders painted with the parts of our lives we often wish we could eliminate.

So many lessons swirled. The dilemma remained. Thy will be done? Or fight like hell for what she thought they all needed?

As her car pulled into the church parking lot, a text message from her prayer group friend dropped in. Her friend was planning on getting confirmed into their faith to teach with her, but with the way the new priest was treating people, she changed her mind. So, now, neither felt able to teach with the group any more. Did this "man of the cloth" care what he was doing to their community? He seemed to her cavalier when he said to their team of teachers, "If you can't do what I ask, I will find someone who can."

"Thy will be done or fight like hell?" she asked herself again. What an expression, she realized she chose! She sat, still, in the driver's seat, the car parked in front of the entrance. Quite symbolically, she didn't know which direction to take.

After much deliberation she got out of the car and headed into the abandoned grounds. She had asked over and over why this had to happen. Was it His Will Being Done? If so, what should she do next? She had been teaching from the Peace Path, finding faith and sharing faith there for over fifteen years. And, how she experienced His Love on those grounds! But today she felt empty; she needed guidance more than ever. She knelt down into The Path's center, where the “I Believe Rock” was. Sweeping rows of Lilly-of-the-Valley lined an intersection which formed into the "Sign of the Cross," where her friend, Bob, had left a stone etched in memory of his son and his grandson. How was her friend, now, she wondered. She had not seen him in weeks. These grounds were so special to him as well. Her heart ached. Peace was not found here any longer, so she picked herself up to go home.

Walking across the parking lot, she realized that she wasn't going to be able to teach or learn anything anymore, feeling this way. A Mini-Garden, "The Kateri Rock Garden" was built in the Peace Path one summer, designed around this exact notion. It was quite the wonderful process! Landscaping rocks had been trucked in and were unloaded into an area where kids and adults alike planned to build a tribute to the soon-to-be Saint Kateri Tekawitha. Kateri was being canonized in the fall, and the work done in the Garden to prepare for this special day brought out the best in everyone. Birch tree branches lined the new, dedicated space. The rocks were poured in and mounded high, and a wooden sign was added. A lean-to was constructed, for a mini Kateri doll to sit under. Teacher-Turned-Student spent loving hours etching a wooden plaque of Kateri. And, when all who gathered looked at Kateri's life's choices, they decided to write on the rocks... one word per rock.. PUT DOWN YOUR BURDENS... TO BE WHO GOD WANTS YOU TO BE.

(This was another lesson learned from one of Father Tom's homilies.)

A poem which was written for Kateri was read, and the group asked the new saint to keep a watchful eye on all who came to this place.

A dear teenager, one of many who became beautiful friends of The Path, talked with her about needing a boulder sized rock for her particular burdens. Teacher-Turned-Student smiled understandingly at the girl. “You are not alone. We all have them. That is why they are called burdens, my friend.”

The girl’s father, another friend, who happened to be in the landscaping business, when hearing of this tale, brought them a big, beautiful boulder to bring the sentiment to life.

COMMUNITY SERVICE: THE ROSARY ROPE TEACHES,THE KATERI GARDEN GROWS

Getting back into the car to drive back home Teacher-Turned-Student recalled years after The Kateri Rock Garden was built, a group of troubled teenage girls was directed to the Peace Path, as part of a community service program.

A tour was given at first, with Teacher-Turned-Student describing how those who were invited to the Peace Path were given choices. Several jobs would be available to choose from and to work through, but also, too, was the possibility that a new Peace Path Gardener would find something better to do on their own. So, when asked how The Path worked, the answer was usually about how visitors came and made it their own, gained from it, then often left something, to teach others who followed.

This particular group would be spending the whole day.

Construction on the church's roof the season before kept the gardens closed to all. So, uncared for, graffiti came through like an unwanted storm. A can of spray paint redefined the sacred mood, marking up a bench and scarring the huge tree in the middle of The Path. Some branches fell into the walkway and a season of debris was around every bend. It was heart-wrenching to see, but a plea on-line for help brought in these girls and their two supervisors.

When they arrived, they were clearly unwilling to open themselves to the day. Who would blame them? Whatever their history was, they were not proud, nor feeling like they had anything to offer. It seemed they were somehow in the same abused state as was The Peace Path. It also seemed difficult for them to see what The Path was or what it could be again.

A tour through the work that needed to be done began. There were paints, cleaners, rakes, pruners. But, if they would prefer to build something on their own, they were told, to keep their minds... and hearts open to any new possibilities. As they toured each “Mini-Garden-Within-The Garden," the girls quietly took it all in.

Then, the work began. Six, five-foot posts, holding the "Rosary Rope," that lined the back of The Path were repainted. Rakes moved the earth around. A new connection was built by one of the supervisors, who found so much more than she had ever expected. The bench was restored. Litter was removed. Lunch was served. Chatter was light. A heaviness was gently being lifted.

A little later, happily bouncing her way, one of the newly born Peace Path Gardeners asked if they could decorate the posts. By then, nothing could contain their creativity. Handprints of paint left beautiful reminders of who carefully put The Path back together again. Flowers were painted with thumb prints. Teacher-Turned-Student laughed with joy when she saw how the girls painted their own hands to create the art on the posts.Then, the mood changed in a heartbeat, when they saw how one of the handprints was innocently left on the wooden post. The palm of the handprint was centered perfectly over a nail hammered into the wood. The image resulted in a nail in the palm of a hand. The symbolism brought them awe and a new appreciation for what they were bringing back to life.

About the same time, another ambitious and energized Gardener came up with a new idea. She was struck by the tribute to Saint Kateri, and asked, “Would anyone read a ‘note’ left on a rock?" The Rock Garden summoned visitors to put down their burdens. All were called together. Teacher-Turned-Student spoke softly to the group, “One of our new Peace Path Gardeners has come up with an idea. I'd like to share it with you all. This Rock Garden is a place to put down burdens. Father Tom, in a homily, told us once that burdens are weights, they are like carrying a rock in your hand. And after a while, you don't even realize that you're carrying it. But that weight makes you unable to do that which you are truly capable.”

The girls listened intently. “If you happen to have any burdens that you are carrying, I'm asking you to consider this and put them down. Right here on these rocks. Then turn the rocks over and be assured no one will ever read what has been put down. It will be between you and whatever you have taught yourself here today.”

As the girls reached for markers and began to write, Teacher-Turned-Student thanked them for reaching her today. She continued, “I'd like you all to know that I will be eternally grateful for your company today, for your work, and for your willingness to do something very different. I could never have conjured on my own what you all brought here. I thank each of you.”

STILLNESS BY THE ONE GOD TREE

As she was about to turn to give them privacy, one of two women supervisors called to her. The week earlier, the woman, a friend of a friend, had responded to her on-line plea for help and was responsible for bringing the group of volunteers that day. She had responded with heart-felt care and an attitude of fresh energy. The fact that she was of the Jewish faith was pleasing to Teacher-Turned-Student, as she had always pictured this to be A Path Open for all who ventured upon it, from every background.

It was the woman's nephew, with a friend, who had created the Friendship Handrail Walk, the summer before, as a way to represent the Jewish Faith at The Peace Path. That story, she knew, she'd save for another day, as so much was still to be accomplished there. But, the fact that the Friendship Handrail lined part of The Path that led to this particular tree in the center of it all, remained beautiful and fitting. The Path, with it's meandering spin-offs allowed for each visitor to find their direction.

In a labor of love, with great patience, the woman who had brought the group to them that day, interestingly enough, chose her direction to be of stillness. Amazingly, she worked the tree for the entire day. By her own elbow grease, with a stack of sand-paper, the painted graffiti that had damaged the huge tree in the middle of the garden had been worked with enduring and beautiful care.

"Look,” said the woman who attended to the tree, “It is a mother holding a baby.” The woman, as she worked, became passionate about the complicated dimensions and shapes the bark on the tree was taking. As she sanded, she left some remnants of paint which outlined and highlighted the natural formations of the bark. It was artistic beauty to her; it was a woman’s profile, holding a baby. To Teacher-Turned-Student, she saw Mother Mary and Baby Jesus.

Many visitors since that day were shown the image on the tree. When one young boy, quiet at first, listened to the story, he quietly pointed to three nearby markings, to the left of the Mother and Child. “Look,” he whispered, “there are the Three Wise Men.”

Teacher-Turned-Student saw so clearly the power of working in these grounds with others, this day. When first adopting "leadership" of the grounds, she had visions of elaborate landscaping, complete with bridges, water features, lines of elegant dogwood trees arched over the walkways, perfectly groomed rows of plantings in layered sizes and dimensions. She pictured the plantings' blossoms to coincide with the church's colors of the seasons, purple for lent, purple with rose for advent, red for Christmas. Teacher-Turned-Student had been a lover of beauty and could picture the grounds like Eden on earth.

But what Teacher-Turned-Student could never have accomplished envisioning, in an entire lifetime, was the miracle of a group of girls finding their way to peace by working The Path. Nor, could she have pictured the beauty in the eyes of a healing girl who realized her burdens were nothing compared to the nail on the cross, that little miracles are in fact possible, that opening oneself up to goodness surpasses the rest. No, the beauty of the grounds would not be seen unless visitor looked deeply. Teacher-Turned-Student gave herself permission that day to let the grounds be whatever they would be, for whoever happened to stumble upon them. They were not hers to carve into Eden. They were in a work-in-progress that would show their own way.

"Even if that meant the grounds and work would be closed?" she asked herself? That damned turmoil.

Back on the highway, the clouds in the sky dramatically drew Teacher-Turned-Student in. So many different kinds of clouds, moving at different speeds, in different directions. She watched them as she carefully kept eye on the road in front of her, too. The more the clouds so quickly changed shape, the more she amazingly kept glancing up at them. "Like an ocean wave crashing at the shore line, they are," she thought. Recalling getting caught up in such a wave, she pictured getting thrown around, losing control, being a victim of a great force of nature. Struggling to come out of it all with breath held and a fight to reach the top, she knew well the physical battle. This is what it feels like right now, like her world was throwing a crashing wave at her. How would she be able to come to the surface and ride it back to calm waters?

When it all happened, when the Peace Path was shut down, she had been so sad. For days, she found it hard to keep from tears. And when they did come, they rained down. And the more she felt the heaviness, the more actual rain fell from the sky. Waters cleansing? The heavens weeping? Or were hot and cold air masses just doing their thing?

These thoughts in her mind, she smiled considering the heavens, full of loving people who she believed had an eye on her… Aunt Theresa, Aunt Clair, Aunt Jean, Aunt Doris. Her Grandmothers and Grandfathers. Wait, wasn't it Doris who sang in the chorus? (She did love a corny rhyme.)

The Peace Path memories, themselves, each with such beautiful people, might hold the clue, for they filled her more than she could ever have prayed for. No, she wasn’t able to work The Peace Path physically again, but she sure did relive it on the trip home. She'd just need to hold on to the memories like a life preserver in the ocean.

Teacher-Turned-Student pulled her car back into her own driveway, smiling at pup who still was expecting a walk. As she got out of the car, heading for her own Peace Path in her back woods, she knew the stories' return to her were a gift.

Peace Path Gardeners had referred to the huge tree in the middle of the Peace Path as the “One-God-Tree, because its trunk soared to the heavens, and just as it looked like it couldn’t be any larger, the tree grew into three separate parts. And, now, she loved the memory that Mary and Jesus were found living in its base. The Tree was Hallowed. The Grounds of The Peace Path were Hallowed. What happened while being there was Hallowed because He was Present. And, what happened to her spirit in the car ride home was Hallowed, because, again, He was Present.

A NEW PEACE PATH CONNECTION

Back home again, on her leash, Penny Lane was leading the way to the great wooded trails that were becoming more important to her with every passing day. But as they crossed over the border of her own backyard to the woods that belonged to the world, she stopped the momentum of pup and self. “Wait up,” she insisted to her friend. “Look!” she said in shock.

The last storm that had raged, threatening them with a tornado, had caused flooding and had brought more pouring rains than anyone had ever recalled to their community. “More rains,” such overused statement! Would summer ever find sunshine?

At the trail’s entrance was overwhelming evidence of the storm's impact. An enormous tree was pulled out of the earth, its roots yanked violently from the ground, and was sprawled, massively, across the entire pathway. The tree laid down in a tangled mess, with several other trees taken down in the fall with it. A lone, dead branch dangled like a dagger from a branch overhead, threatening more destruction. The scene left her in shock and in awe of the power of nature.

It was actually the second time she had seen it. She knew of its magnitude. Today, she realized though, it reminded her of the turmoil so many good people around her were going through, herself included. “A prayer for me?” might just have just been answered. Inspired, she decided to reroute The Path around the destruction. Penny would have to walk another day.

Remembering how her old dachshund buddy, Ginger Spice, would stay near her as she gardened, she went into the house to collect her plan. A jar full of dog treats were grabbed from the cupboard; a rake and pruners were grabbed from the shed. The duo walked back to the job. “Now Penny Lane,” she told her dog quite seriously. “Stay right around here, I trust you will be a good girl while I work. Come back for treats whenever I call you!” She rewarded the dog with some goodies from the jar and showed her where there would be more.

No sensible dog owner would trust a "beagle-mix" like hers to this job, but down deep, she knew she would be able to deal with the consequences. After all, how lost could one pup get in the woods?

With pup off to wander, Teacher-Turned-Student began her new Peace Path Connection. As she began, she smiled as a text came in from a young, but long time friend of hers who had gardened with her at the original Peace Path. She texted him about her plans, invited him to come help her, then realized she hadn’t seen Penny in too long. “I TRUSTED Penny?” she wrote to him, “Why do I trust? lol… Because that’s what I do!”

He answered her text with an LOL and told her it sounded like fun.

“Penny Lane…” she called into the wooded trails as she left the beginnings of her work. No sooner did she call, then a voice came in reply, from around a bend, “Are you looking for a small tan dog?” It was relayed by the sweet stranger accompanied by her pretty black dog, that her dog was being carried to the opposite side of the trail by a couple who had scooped up Penny. Thinking that she was lost, they saw her phone number on her collar, but their phone was back in their car. So, off they carried her dog.

Horrified that she put others out of their way, Teacher-Turned-Student thanked the sweet duo and ran to Penny and saviors. “HOW DUMB!” she scolded herself. On the Fourth of July, so many walkers were on the trails, how could she let Penny just out to them. She ran on. Soon enough though, she encountered the couple who had Penny Lane. Thanks and apologies were given. A conversation continued as the small group now traveling together came back to normal. The woman, she found out, belonged to a church in a town nearby who’s group met regularly in a “Cross-Fit” program. She wore a tee-shirt with the message on the back which said, “Fit Self to Fuel Others.”

Knowing somehow that their meeting was meant to be, Teacher-Turned-Student was determined to find them again; with thanks, she told them she’d go to their church sometime soon. Warm goodbyes did not end her story that day, though.

As she ventured back home with Penny Lane, they encountered the sweet woman and pretty black dog who had directed her. As the mom and dog duos stopped to greet one another, it became very clear that there was much pain under the surface of the new friends. It was told that the pretty black dog had an inoperable tumor in its jaw and would not be long for the world. So sadly, the sweet woman explained she didn’t know how to proceed.

Teacher-Turned-Student knew the answer. It may not have been a story she cared to retell but she did so, lovingly. When her own dear Ginger Spice, the sixteen year old dachshund was at her end, they invited a veterinarian into their home and had Ginger put to sleep, in her coffee hour chair, in loving her arms. For some, a car ride to a vet’s office just wasn’t possible. This new friend was one of those caring people.

As Teacher-Turned-Student retold her tale, she carefully explained her memories now were of a beautiful, peaceful end. And she also told her of advise that had been given to her from a beautiful friend from California, to have patience at the end.

A week of intermingled hope and discouragement would have been too overwhelming, had she not taken the Californian friend's kind-hearted words of wisdom to heart, that these would be the last times she’d be with her friend, so make them good ones. Warmly, she recalled frying bacon at 3:00AM, and scrambling eggs with cheese at 4:00AM, all for a dog who couldn't eat her own food anymore. She recalled taking naps with her on the front porch, where she had carted out extra pillows, a night-stand and table lamp. After all, the “Outdoors” were her best friend’s favorite place to be. And, she took lots and lots and lots of pictures of Ginger, as they walked their last steps together. Looking back at the pictures later, she realized how old and tired, indeed, her best friend had become.

During that time, she also remembered to breathe very deeply, to take in Love with each breath. While walking at an old dachshund’s pace, yoga stretches in the middle of the road were the way she kept strong, focusing on love, focusing on being there for her friend.

With tears in her eyes, the sweet new friend, on the side of the wooded trail, thanked her dearly for sharing the story with her. She knew what she’d have to do and knew she’d be able to do it. “Look at me,” Teacher-Turned-Student whispered, “I’m living proof that it can be done. And, you will be able to, too. You'll be okay,” she told her convincingly.

They hugged and let their emotions stay behind as both ventured back, their separate ways. Teacher-Turned-Student was filled to the brim with love and thanks, to know her story helped someone else.

Late that night, after coming home from work, she typed out the tale. Re-living it sent her to sleep soundly. After only an hour of sleep, though, she awoke to a numb right hand. The second time during the night that the hand went numb, she got up for some ice. The third, fourth and fifth times, she told herself she would get herself back to physical therapy. With a sigh of giving in to help, she knew, “No, I cannot do this on my own, I have to go the Expert.”