Beads of faith...

Pinch me, pinch me I say to myself this beautiful Tuesday. Am I simply dreaming this perfect day into existence? Though it didn't start out that way for me. This morning's pre-awake sweet dream was interrupted by the whisper of my inner voice saying, "it's time girl, get at it."

I've been working at keeping my thoughts regarding today's to-do list on the "sunny side up." Today was the day meant for routine maintainence health testing - all that girly crap. A day I dutifully mark on my calendar, dreading it but at the same time thanking my lucky stars that I have good doctors and insurance to match.

Grumbly though, that' s what I was at the sound of the NPR announcer's voice - my wake up alarm. And I shouldn't of been grumbly, especially considering my 21 day pledge to remain "complaint free." (See my current reading) The minutes following multiplied into an hour and before too long I was out the door, audio book in tow for the ride to and from (again, see current reading list - The 19th Wife - shocking!!).

As I sat in wait from test to test, three to be exact, crocheting away my complaint, I was taken by a woman sitting close by. A few minutes before she sat waiting with her daughter, who appeared to be close to my own age, 50-ish. Her daughter at this time was undergoing her test. As I sat stitching my eyes lifted toward the woman's mother, singular now as she awaited the return of her daughter. I couldn't help but be taken at the movement of her lips, silently mouthing prayers being counted off on the rosary wrapped around her fingers.

The woman's face held no worry. Her expression was one of will, of faith. Prayerful, obviously. And I couldn't help but feel blessed myself, sitting so close to one so deep in prayer. With everything going on around us, we were two people alone in faith - her for her daughter and the power of prayer, and me in gratitude for being right there, right then. Again, I was reminded of the importance of being in the moment. If I hadn't been, then I would have missed it.

After my test battery I headed home to prepare for the rest of my day. A one to nine shift at the library. Writers' group tonight. A two hour stint at the reference desk during the "witching hours," from three to five - the harried two hours between "school's out" and dinner time. All the while, once more I find myself enmeshed in the thick of what's going on around me.

Life in a library at the busiest time of day. Life in a library at any time of day. In my book (pun intended) the library's pretty much the best place to be. Everything happens at library, just open a book! And I once more I was filled with gratitude...for my job. That I get to spend my day in a library. Be with library people - patrons and staff. If I could have said it out loud I would have, "Thank you God for letting me work here, in my hometown library, right here, right now, with all of these people all around me."

A simple day in the life...but so damn rich. What joy I found today in my surroundings. Sharing a laugh with the lab techs (it's laugh or cry and I always choose to laugh). The woman with the rosary. Oh how I pray her prayers are answered. And tonight after work I'm heading to my daughter's. She'll have popcorn and a bottle of wine ready. For the second week in a row we're having a "tv night." We're both hooked on the new Showtime program The Big C. If you haven't seen it, you should. There's a mighty message inside this smart little "dramedy." Live for the moment. Look around you. Grab your joy, don't let anyone or anything steal it away from you. And for me the greatest joy is in the world around me, as it happens moment by moment.

All in all, a very good Tuesday.

Hope yours was too.

-t.

"you alone are enough to face the sunrise..."

experience is the greatest teacher...wow, how i know the truth in that statement. i think of the ebb and flow of this summer, of the past year of my life. all i've been through and who i've become as a result. had i not experienced the pain, frustration, uncertainty and doubts which have landed at my feet over these past 12 months of my life, i wouldn't be who i am today. and i like who i am today. i like the stronger, more certain me that i've become. i like the heights i'm reaching for and knowing that they're attainable, reminding myself that i'm stronger at carving out new paths because of the uncharted ones i've traveled these past months of my life.

years ago i worked diligently on a cross stitch sampler. worked on the project for a year. stitched into the design were the words, "each dawn is a new beginning." i framed the finished sampler and gave it to my parents for christmas that year. that piece has come to mean so much. to them. to me. the sampler sits in my basement now, awaiting a spot on the wall of my mom's new apartment. i happened by it as we were moving her in last weekend.

"each dawn is a new beginning." the words reminding me that change is inevitable. that dark nights bring bright dawns ~ sunrise and the promise of a new day. a fresh start. and like making it through an unsettling dream on a stormy night, we gain strength and clarity with the light of a new day.

the dawns of the last 365 days of my life have, with each 24 hour period, made me stronger and more sure of who i am and the decisions i've made. i don't doubt them. and i don't doubt me. i no longer doubt my strength or my ability to make it through tough times. those times are going to come again, that much i know is true. but i also know what's to be gained by muddling through adversity. with a wing and a prayer we make it through. into the light of a better day.

wishing you the sunrise,

all the day through...

-t.

hello again...

girl. it's so good to see you again, coming out from under that wide umbrella which has sheltered you from your stormy summer. looking into your eyes i can see that you've changed a bit. your curves have softened. your eyes see deeper. and listening, do i detect a stronger beat to your heart?

strong girl...stronger than you'd ever imagined you could be. happy girl, hungry to grab hold of your days once more. reaching girl, knowing that that road behind you has prepared you well for the uncertain journey ahead. running girl, not running from but running to...the life that is yours.

arms flung wide open you run under the sun with the wind as your partner. strains of music long gone unheard fill your heart and soul with joy. at the finish line which is also a starting line your bittersweet tears welcome you home. back to you. fresh from the journey with new stories which tenderly reveal themselves in the way you now see the world.

hello again friend.

you. me.

i've missed you.

luv,

-t.

a daughter's tribute...

It's been a time since I've posted. Circumstances surrounding the illness and passing of my dad have kept my mind tangled and time for writing simply non-existent. What follows is the remembrance I wrote and read at my Dad's memorial service. I've had many requests to share this piece, and so I am...sharing it with you. I also hope, now that my life is a bit more steady, to be here more. Writing and sharing life with you...

To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world. These words were stenciled on the wall behind the sign up desk at the hospice home where my dad spent the last two weeks of his life. To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.

Words read daily, by my mom, my sister, my niece, me…all our family who came and spent time with dad during those last precious days. Those words danced around my mind as I sat in contemplation, pouring over the life that was my dad’s in preparation for this moment. Because that’s what my dad was, the world, to my mom, my sister and I, to our family. It’s with great pride as Larry’s daughter to share the world that was my dad’s life with you today.

My dad’s life was a testament to the power of the spirit to withstand and conquer challenges. Many of you may not know that my dad spent the better part of his childhood living in an orphanage in the city. Dad was placed, along with his brother Bob, in the orphanage when he was three years old and remained there until the age of nine. I can’t help but think that the courage he showed later in life fighting his many medical battles was forged during the formative years of his childhood. Learning to survive, believe, endure and carry hope for a better day.

After Gram and Gramp were married they moved to Grayslake, my dad and Bob in tow. Two more brothers would follow – Rick and Randy. His teen years, at least, found him finally at home, living life as should be promised to any child – with his mom and dad and his brothers by his side.

My dad graduated from Grayslake HS in 1956. Shortly thereafter Dad and his HS buddy Jack Kordt stuck out their thumbs and hitchhiked their way to Southern California via the original route 66. They left with little more than $40 between the two of them and a nose for adventure. After a month in California they made their way back to Grayslake, again, courtesy of their thumbs, broke except for their memories of a wild and wonderful time which I know for sure was one of the best times of my dad’s life. He cherished those memories and the memories of good times and great friends his whole life long. Such good friends he had, ones who remained close to him even up to the final days of his life.

A short time later my dad met his dream girl, my mom, while working at Abbotts. Not only did she catch his eye, she caught his heart as well. The good looking guy with the classic 50’s flat top and his model bride tied the knot in June of 1959 and celebrated over 50 years as partners in marriage. Ups, downs, all-arounds – two young kids with barely a nickel to their name, my parents made a beautiful life together, working their hardest to provide my sister and I with the things that they never had.

In his younger days my Dad held many jobs in an effort to earn a few nickels to rub together. Gas station attendant, MdDonald’s fry cook, you name it, he did it. His
passion though was the printing industry and my Dad made a life long trade of it. For many years he worked as a pressman. I’ll never forget the times I visited my dad at Munder’s in Zion when my dad worked on that monstrous four color press – all by himself running this thing which was a little bigger than a single car garage. Even now occasionally when I crack open a catalog from the mailbox I breathe in that smell – ink, paper, press – and it takes me back. One of the many scents I associate with my hero, my dad.

He held many positions in an industry which changed so drastically throughout his career. From pressman, to litho stripper and on to production and management, my dad was the hardest working man I knew, often times working two jobs to support the needs of his family. Not just my mom, my sister and I, but often helping out his parents, my mom’s folks, and their brothers and sisters. If a soul was in need, my dad would do his darndest to lend a hand or a few dollars to help out, always teaching, always showing by example to his daughters, and to our entire family, how to live a live of purpose.

One point which bears mention is that my sister and I were lucky in that we lived with parents that never said no to a pet. My dad gave a nervous nod to our pleading eyes when the question “can I keep him?” came up. Gold fish, tropical fish, one darn cat, many dogs, gerbils, hamsters, and even a goofy growling, laughing mynah bird who’s favorite phrase was “oh blank, I lost my cigarettes again”…we had it all. And it was fun. After flying the coop, my sister and I were replaced with generations of shi tzu’s – and boy did my dad love them. Not only did my parents keep this silly little loveable breed as pets, they showed them too, on the national level, going so far as to raise two grand champions. These days they’re down to one, but for many years you’d be greeted by as many as a half a dozen little shi tzu faces when you walked in their door.

Throughout the years my dad enjoyed so many different hobbies. As a child I can remember when he and my mom would spend endless hours as the archery range down in Waukegan. He loved that sport. I used to love to just sit and watch him line up that sight, steady his aim and eye his target. I can still hear the arrow snap free from the bow and remember how proud I was that this was my dad. From archery, bowling, fishing, coin collecting and downhill skiing, to stained glass work and even crocheting (yes Caity, pop pop was hooked for a time too) my dad was a pretty passionate guy. And don’t even get me started on how he loved his computer!

My dad’s biggest hobby though, was cooking. Dad was the cook in our family and we were all the luckier for it. For my bridal shower years and years ago it was my dad who put together the entire menu – a classic ladies luncheon from appetizers to homemade desserts. I’ll never forget it. And when my dad made a cake, it was an out of the ordinary, soaked in brandy, homemade fruit filling, travel to a few different stores for ingredients kind of cake. He approached all his culinary endeavors in just such a way. In turn, my sister and I delighted in cooking for my dad. The final test of our efforts came with a taste from my dad. He’d take a bite and we’d look at him and say “well??” There
were only two answers to that questions – it’s okay, or very good. Each and every time Cyndi and I reached for the “very good” response, knowing for sure that if it was “okay” then something was missing. Very good was an A, it’s okay was a C.

My dad’s greatest passion though, was his family, my mom, my sister and I, and the families we’ve created. How he loved his grandchildren, his great-grandchildren. Back in healthier easier times, my dad didn’t miss a beat with his grandkids. He took such pride in watching my son play years of football and I know those are memories that Nick will carry for the rest of his life. How I wish he could have seen Nick play lacrosse, watch Michael on the baseball field, see Caity cheer her way to state championships. Health complications may have prevented him from physically being there, but the kids always knew for sure that their pop pop was with them in spirit.

I want you to understand what an honor I consider it to be, to speak about such a loving, patient, kind, gracious man, my dad. And how my sister and I take such pride in being Milanich’s, carrying our dad’s name in a whisper beside our now married names. Just how much it means to me to stand before you and share the life that was my dad. All my life my dad has taught me, guided me, even to his final days, teaching me things about myself, about courage and about faith. In all my life as his daughter I can honestly say that the time I cherish most are the last few weeks I had with him. Holding his hand, telling him how much I loved him and how proud I was to be his daughter. Even witnessing to him and sharing our faith. Praying over him, with him, knowing that in my life I have been truly blessed in having him for a father. Realizing that everyone who knew him was blessed in a way just by calling him son, husband, brother, pop pop, uncle, brother in law, friend…

Years and years ago my dad, my sister and I used to sing a silly little song over and over. The song started out with the words “you remind me of a man, what man?” Cyndi knows what I’m talking about. To you dad, I just want to say it one more time…you remind me of a man…what man? The man with the power…the power to touch lives, to live with courage, to fight the brave fight. And now you live in victory dad…in our hearts and with God’s promise that at the end of the battle he comes to take us to a better place. Home. Where our heart is free.

realizing that i think might just have lived

one of the most memorable summers of my life,

and that i am all the better for having lived it.

loving life,

-t.

p.s...photo is of my dad on the beach in North Carolina.

tuesday, and all is well...

a morning cup of coffee

the buzz of cicadas whirring through

the screen above my kitchen sink

wrapping sandwiches

securing my lunch time salad

with a snap inside a container

fresh local blueberries on top of my yogurt

the delicious scent of my husband

as i kiss him out the door and into his day

sunshine reflecting in water drops

resting on the leaves of my freshly watered garden

rainbows reflecting in water spray

as i allow myself a few

childlike moments to play with the hose

tucked into my colorful cube at the library

i bury myself all the day long

ordering books, books and more books

lists left long unattended

while i muddled through the murky waters

of the past 6 weeks of my life

a call from the doctor

today is a fairly good day for dad, he reports

i'll take it - if only for a moment

for those "good times" are so rare

as i sip my tea the afternoon through

the little yogi tea tag reminds me to

"be happy so long as breath is within you"

and i am, happy

for this blissfully, so far perfect

absolutely normal day

my very favorite kind of day

i happened upon this pretty little prayer

and though to share it with you...

"normal day,

let me be aware of the treasure that you are.

let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart.

let me not pass you by in the quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.

let me hold you while i may,

for it may not always be so."

wishing you the profound peace

tucked quietly inside

of a perfectly perfect normal day...

-t.

photo - sharing more "tea tag wisdom" with you:)

"it is a great thing to know the season for speech and the season for silence..."

i find myself upon a crossroad

to the left are words unsaid

unnecessary, futile

seemingly important only to me,

a voice that longs to speak,

express, to be understood

to the right is silence

quiet, peaceful, calm,

a voice which begs to be still

and rest in knowing

that a thousand words can be spoken

in a moment of quiescence

in the wind a gentle voice whispers

"stay to the right"

and i follow

understanding that

for every time there is a season

and this is my time

to be still

listening, learning, and leaning on faith...

-t.

quote: Seneca (5BC - 65AD)

Roman dramatist, philosopher and politician

who also said,

"difficulties strengthen the mind as labor does the body"

unpredictable currents...

Right now I'm at a time in my personal life which bears recording. Experiences, conversations, feelings that at a distant point in the future I just know I'll want to remember. Curiously though, I find words allude me. In attempting to record these last days of my fathers life - my emotions, my scattered thoughts - my pen falls silent. Paralyzed actually. It's said often, "words cannot express," and for me right now this is true.

Words just cannot express what the mind and the heart go through when you're in the process of losing a parent. My Dad. My rock, my whole life long. His pride in me is something that I've never taken for granted. Oh how much it meant to me, each time he said "I'm so proud of you. You've done a good job." For the rest of my life I'll know that, and that will be enough. To know that I led a life that made my father proud.

These days I'm learning so much about myself. Things I'd never of known if not for this experience. I like to think that my Dad is still teaching me, as he has done all my life. And that even when he goes from me, the lessons will continue. Thus far, the most important lesson I've learned is that I'm far stronger than I'd ever figured I'd be when it came to this. To losing him. To letting go. And it's not only my earthly father who has blessed me with this strength, but my heavenly father. My heavenly father, who takes over now as he calls my Dad home.

A few days ago a friend reminded me that "God doesn't give us more than we can handle." When I considered what I've been through with my daughter last month, and now this with my Dad, I thought to myself that God's sure showing a lot of confidence in me. My prayer is that I won't let him down. I can handle it. I am strong.

More wise words...my cousin reminded me that in troubled times you have to "let go of the shore and float with the stream." That the river knows where it's going. That if I clung to the shore I'd get hit with debris. Lessons...lessons this proud daughter is learning by simply living the life I have right now and accepting the course of the river.

I can't think of any other time that I've felt this close to God, where the "thin space" seems to be at its thinnest yet. And I can't think of any other time that I've been filled with such a unique sense of gratitude. Though times have been tough, I wouldn't have traded a minute of it, reminding myself that that which doesn't break us makes us stronger than before. I believe this as its proven true for me time and time again.

This moment, this time,

and everything within it,

for this, I am even now being blessed.

Love,

-t.