"Nonna, come play with me!"

“Nonna, come play with me!”

 

Oh the plea of my grandchild asking me to play.

I am so blessed!  Being Nonna to 4 amazing children – the youngest only 6 weeks old – is a gift given to me by the amazing God that breathed life into each of these precious children.

I became Nonna for the first time on November 28, 2003 and again for the fourth time, with my newest grandchild just recently, August 30, 2013.  Three boys and one girl, Justin, Jonathan, Emmaline & Silas.

They live in Union, Kentucky – which makes our visits actual planned trips either to KY or to NYC.  Many may think this is very difficult with the many miles between – yet each visit is more than a quick visit, a couple of hours at a playground, or a one-night sleep over.

 

Each visit is time to stay at length with each other; waking for breakfast, making plans for the day, silliness & giggles, chatting during dinner, reading bedtime stories, and of course, tons of time to play.  We’ve made it work and each time we are together we catch up as much as possible.

 

My son officiated a wedding this past weekend, here in NYC.  He and his wife planned on coming and staying with me with their newest baby, Silas, who is 6 weeks old.  This would be when I would meet Silas and get to pour love on him for hours and days at a time.  After looking into some “flyer miles” they decided to bring my granddaughter Emma as well.  She is 3 ½.  The older boys had a fun weekend staying with some special friends back in KY.

As soon as they arrived, Emma ran in hugging me, peeking over my shoulder trying to get a glimpse of what exciting activities Nonna might have planned.

 

Hello Silas, I'm Nonna.

 

 

 

 

And then there was Silas, my sweet youngest grandson.  Once I got a hold of him – it was hard to ever put him down.

 



The five days they stayed with me were hectic with a rehearsal dinner, wedding plans, visits with other family members, a fundraising banquet for an organization I’m involved with, and whatever else popped up.  Yet we found many hours to spend together, many meals together, going to "Nonna's playground," catching up with each other, and of course – playing, playing, playing.

 



Our visits are precious – our love even more so – and I am reminded of how very blessed I am to be given the privilege of being called Nonna!

A flower for Nonna!

 

Remembering 9-11

Just saying those two numbers, 9 – 11, brings images and emotions to my heart.  September 11, 2001 sometimes seems like hundreds of years ago, and yet at the same time, seems like last year.

I was at work when one of my co-workers yelled to everyone near her office that her daughter just called her to tell her a plane crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center.  This “accident” seemed so sad – for all aboard this plane and anyone in the area of the impact of that building.

We gathered into the conference room and turned on the television to see what was being reported.  Suddenly we all saw the second plane fly very low and much too close to the Twin Towers.  Then we saw it actually turn around and fly directly into the other tower.

As news coverage continued, with the attack on the Pentagon and the plane going down in Pennsylvania, and the collapse of both Towers, there was a silence in our office that was surreal.

Saturday of the same week I was attending a Leadership Prayer Summit held in a Queens church.  While at this event, a Pastor of a local church that works closely with ours approached a few of us asking if anyone would be willing to help a ministry that is serving the workers at Ground Zero.  We were asked to serve a 6-hour shift – arriving at 6pm that evening.  I immediately knew I should volunteer, and with a few others said yes.

We first met at Street Life Ministries in Flushing NY to help make massive amounts of soup, coffee, and gather other supplies.  We loaded a van with everything and headed into the city.

Dave Van Fleet of Street Life Ministries had responded immediately following the attack on the World Trade Center.  He was one of the first responders; he and his team, with his Food Truck, ministered to anyone and everyone he came in contact with.  Originally he went to Chelsea Piers, where hundreds of volunteers were receiving donated food, clothing, etc.  It was also a place where police and firefighters went to get some rest.  After awhile they moved the van further downtown, hoping to be able to get as close to the disaster sight as possible – to minister to all the workers.  With prayer, and amazing “God moments” they moved closer and closer. 

On Thursday they were serving in front of City Hall, feeding the many workers, praying with many, and sharing God’s Word.  Dave felt in his heart that they should be directly at Ground Zero – and continued to pray.  At each attempt to get closer – he was told “No.”  Security measures were increasing, and they were even prevented from returning to City Hall.  But Dave knew God was greater than any obstacles, so he continued to pray.  He suddenly heard a pounding on the van door and found a police officer asking where they were headed.  Asking for a lift, the van was able to pass through many check points until they dropped off the officer.  Dave then said, “I’m going straight down to Ground Zero.”  And he did!

He was allowed to set up the van directly in front of the Millennium Hilton, which is where we headed to once we arrived Saturday night.

As we arrived directly at Ground Zero – it was so overwhelming that many of us immediately cried.  The devastation was so intense – all we could do was pray; pray that we could calm ourselves enough to be able to serve the 1,000’s of men and women working at the site, pray that we could be a light in this very dark place, pray that we could share the love of Jesus and give these people encouragement to continue this difficult work – pray!

 

Once we reached the Street Life van, we were each given a helmet and mask.  We were instructed to listen for an alarm that periodically sounded when there was any shift in the Millennium Hotel, since they were not sure how stable that building was.  When we did hear the alarm – we immediately dropped everything and ran up the street until we received an “all clear” sign.  I knew this was going to be a time of ministry like no other I had ever experienced.

Besides serving those at the van – serving soup, coffee and offering prayer – we were brought over to St. Paul’s Church.  This historical church had not been damaged, yet devastation surrounded it on all sides.  St. Paul’s became a place a refuge and service.  As donations poured in, most was brought to St. Paul’s and organized.  The pews served as isles containing snacks, water, toiletries, clothes, work boots, eye drops, clean underwear, etc.  We worked for hours organizing the massive amount of items – so the many workers would be able to quickly find anything they needed.  Some of the pews also served as a place to rest – to pray – and pause. 

The workers at Ground Zero worked tirelessly – most until nearly collapsing – before taking a break.  Some for so long – that they came asking if there were any construction boots in their sizes – since they had actually worn through their boots continually climbing the debris – searching for any survivors.  The physical pain was only overrun by the emotional pain each was experiencing.

The majority of workers came over to our van and prayer station many times, asking for prayer, asking to just share what they were going through, thanking us for being there as a ray of light.  What an awesome privilege it was to touch the hearts of each while we were there.

We had been scheduled to work until midnight – when another team from out of town was expected to arrive.  The van arrived without the team, and we were told they were unable to get to NYC in time.  We were asked if we wanted to return in the van or continue through the night. 


Everyone on my team remained through the night.  Continuing to sort the hundreds of donated items, continuing to pray and sit with the many workers (including many with service dogs), continuing to offer hot soup and coffee.  Each of us never tired, never stopped – and as the sun came up the next morning – only then did we realize we had been working throughout the night.

*



We continued until late next morning.  Another team was arriving and would take our place.  Before we left we gathered together once again and prayed as a group.  Prayed that all our work and time would touch each person we came in contact with deeper than they’ve ever been touched; that they would be able to heal after all they have gone through. 

I was given a gift when asked to serve – asked to share my time – my heart - my faith.  I pray that lives were healed and new beginnings were possible because of a group of humble people that said “yes” when asked to go down to Ground Zero that weekend twelve years ago.

*Photos courtesy of Street Life Ministries 

Annual Shorebird Festival

I was up early yesterday for a full day planned at the "8th Annual SHOREBIRD FESTIVAL" at Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge.  It’s funny how an early morning alarm waking me at sunrise doesn’t seem to faze me for a day of birding.

This day included folks from NYC Audubon, The National Park Service, Don Riepe of the American Littoral Society, renowned bird expert and author Kevin Karlson, and shorebird photographer Lloyd Spitalnik.

The weather was perfect and we started with coffee, bagels, and donuts.  Don Riepe gave a brief presentation including some recent photos and happenings in Jamaica Bay.  There was an amazing turnout – over 100 participants – breaking into approximately 5 different groups with various guides.  We then all headed on our various trails to search for some new or familiar shorebird sightings.

My group, geared in high boots and led by Kevin Karlson, walked along the deep muddy edges of the East Pond until we reached a point where we could enjoy the shorebirds.

Although there were not a lot birds to look at today, we did get to see a great selection; White-rumped Sandpiper, Stilt Sandpiper, Red Knot, Semipalmated Plover, Black-bellied Plover, Yellowlegs, Snowy Egret, Dowitcher, and a Ruddy Turnstone.  We also saw a Green-winged Teal, Mallard, and a Northern Shoveler.

After returning back for our lunch break, I joined Lloyd Spitalnik’s group and headed to Big John’s Pond, where I was treated to the sighting of a  Snowy Egret, Yellow-crowned Night Heron as well as a Juvenile Black-crowned Night Heron.

We headed back to the center once again, and then took a walk around the West Pond, ending once more at the center for some final presentations.  Lloyd Spitalnik presented some of his photography, sharing some tips on how to get that perfect birding photo.  Kevin Karlson gave a talk with highlights from his upcoming book on shorebird identification in a whole new way.

A perfect full day of sunshine, walking, birding, photography . . .

 

 

 



 

The Journey Continues

We set many goals in various areas of our lives – hoping to accomplish something important – to reach some status – to acquire something – to find fulfillment, etc.

Sometimes goals aren’t met due to our own lack of continuing with our vision.  Other times situations happen that change our goals.  And then there are times when life kicks in – and everything is turned upside down.

My sister Marie was in a car accident on June 16.  I’ve written a few blogs in regard to her accident, hospitalization, and rehabilitation, as she continues on her journey to become whole again.

As time went on – and she continually reached another plateau in her healing - her ultimate goal was to gain full mobility and return home.  Return to her world, her family, her music, her job – her life!

This weekend she was discharged from the rehabilitation center and was finally brought home – 9 weeks following her accident.  She will most likely need continued outpatient rehab – but she has come so far and has healed so well – that it is evident that her life is a miracle.

Although she has reached the goal we have all been praying for – she is nowhere near the end of her journey.  This journey took her down a different path – a path that she never imagined – a path that challenged her to fight for her life – challenged her spirit – challenged her ability to let others be there for her – challenged every imaginable inkling of her being. 

But at the end of that path are now other paths – calling her to stop and realize her life was spared for a purpose.  An opportunity for her to re-think her goals, her beliefs, her passions, and which path she hopes to follow.  A time for her to wonder “why?”  Why was her life spared and how can she make her future the most amazing experience now that she has returned home?

During this time, she was given the opportunity to not only know in her heart how much her family loves her, but to also experience the evidence of that love.  She also had a window opened allowing her to see the amazing love that surrounds her in other areas of her life; her friends, friends of family, friends of her son, the network of musicians she is connected to, people who don’t even know her but know her friends & family continuing to hold onto the hope that she would return home.

We should all share the love and concern for each other throughout our lives – yet so many times its when there is tragedy that we come around and shower someone with how important they are to us; sometimes we are never given that opportunity.  Luckily my sister was able to have the chance to receive this. 

She can now move forward as she continues on her journey - with the knowledge that she is extremely loved, is important to so many, is blessed, and has now been given another chance – a chance to discover her purpose.

The Top of the Mountain

I don’t know anyone who can honestly say they’ve sailed through life without obstacles crossing their path.

Some obstacles are small and we handle them with little difficulty – others are major - causing us to pause, wonder why, and be tested beyond what we thought we could ever handle.

What does being at the Top of the Mountain mean?  I thought reaching “the top” meant I have accomplished what it was I was striving for.  Until a conversation I listened to recently.

My sister Marie was in a horrific car accident on June 16.  She was unconscious for nearly three weeks, on a ventilator for nearly five weeks, still receives oxygen through a tracheotomy, and is still battling the injuries that were inflicted on her body 47 days ago.

Every day she fights to become stronger – waits for her body to heal a bit more – and experiences long, long days as she wonders if she will ever be herself again.

Many days she is discouraged – so discouraged that she doesn’t believe she can do the exercises given to her, doesn’t believe she will ever be home again, doesn’t even care.  Other times I see her strength to push forward and I am amazed at what a strong woman she really is.

Our family continually encourages her, tells her how far she has come; especially since she is unaware of the first 3 weeks of her journey.  We’ve been having more and more conversations letting her know details of her injuries, but also the miracles that have been showered on her, getting her to where she is today.  Friends send messages of love, continue to pray, encourage her with how much they can’t wait until they can be with her again.  And yet, pain, difficulty breathing, weakness, and fear creep into her body, causing her to doubt.

I want to remove the fear from her eyes and help her believe her life has been spared for an amazing purpose.  As I sit and hold her hand, I share my love and at the same time encourage her to keep fighting.  She has made unbelievable strides – she has come so far – but she looks ahead and wonders whether she can make it to the end of this race – and be home once more.

A few nights ago, while I was visiting her, her nurse practitioner came by to check on her.  Besides being extremely qualified in her field, this particular woman has the gift of encouragement and has a way of speaking with Marie; sharing medical details, letting her know there is a long journey ahead, but giving her such hope to hold onto, that I wanted to jump for joy when she finished speaking.

Her conversation to Marie was that Marie has reached the “top of the mountain.”  My first thought was, “ummm, not really.”  Then she elaborated.

She told Marie her entire journey was as if climbing a massive mountain.  Each step of her healing, each accomplishment, took her further and further up that mountain.  She said she felt Marie was now at the top; the worst was behind – meaning the critical moments, the major medical concerns, were behind her.  She was now at the top, ready for the next phase of her journey – getting closer to her goal - home.

“Marie, you’re not going to soar down the other side on a skateboard,” she said, “but rather as a beginner skier, moving down slowly, moving side to side, slowly making it down the other side – finally bringing you to the bottom.”  She has tons of work ahead of her; physical therapy will be a major challenge.  But she is at the top of that mountain, ready to start her way down, working with her body toward complete healing – until she is at the bottom and skiing to the finish line – into the door of her home.

How do we see mountains before us as we move along our journey?  Are we looking at the mountain as an immoveable obstacle?  Are we looking at it as a challenge to give all we can, pull to the top, and then that’s it?  Or do we see it as a journey that we are climbing until we reach the top, using faith, strength, trust, & hope - where we then get a glimpse of the other side - our true goal?

I’ve held onto my faith during this entire time.  Faith in my God who hears prayers, faith in the same God who has been holding up Marie every step of her journey, faith in the God who gives me words of encouragement, hope and love to share with my sister every day of her life.  One of my sincere prayers is that Marie will see how far he has carried her, trust he will continue to do so - not only through this journey - but throughout her life if she would allow him into her heart as well.  

I’ve realized that making it to the top of the mountain may just be the first part of an amazing challenge in our lives.  It might just be the beginning of moving in the right direction to where we are meant to be.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—

where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,

the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip - 

he who watches over you will not slumber;

the Lord is your keeper;

The Lord is your shade on your right hand.

- Psalm 121:1-5