walking in Old Salem...

Following medical procedures, the advice is to walk.
To wake up the body after anesthesia.
To get the gut moving again.
To release (politely, of course) trapped air.
To fill the lungs with oxygen and cough out any lingering yuck.

Some walk the hospital halls.  Some walk around the hotel.  Some walk a treadmill.  But why not fill your eyes and heart with lovely things while tending to this necessary part of recovery?

We decided to visit Old Salem and walk its brick and stone sidewalks.  A little history lesson, then photos.  Let's go!

"The town of Old Salem traces its history to the immigration of Moravian settlers, who brought their deep religious faith, Germanic heritage and industrious work ethic from central Europe to America in the 18th century.  The Moravians, properly known as the Unity of the Brethren, are a protestant denomination whose members sought religious freedom and economic opportunities in the American colonies, settling several permanent communities in Pennsylvania during the 1740s.  

In 1753, Moravian settlers traveled south to North Carolina to found Wachovia, a 100,000-acre tract of land that would eventually contain six Moravian communities.  These included Bethabara, Bethania, Salem and three smaller outlying settlements.  Salem, founded in 1766 as the central community in Wachovia, served as a hub of economic trade and the spiritual center of the Moravian settlements in the region.

Salem was a congregational town, meaning that one had to be Moravian and a member of the church to live in the community.  However, outsiders were welcomed to come interact with dozens of skilled tradesmen in their shops and the community store.  In addition to such fundamental trades as blacksmithing, woodworking and shoemaking, Salem also offered the much-needed but rarer services of a potter, a doctor, clock maker and justice of the peace to the residents of North Carolina backcountry."  (Visit oldsalem.org to learn more!)

This happens often when we travel...
I go into a shop to buy, oh, maybe a shopping bag full of Moravian cookies, say, and I return to find Tom and Scarlett surrounded by people!

This was a delightful way to speed recovery before our journey home!  (And the cookies were such a treat!!!)

tiny moments...

The test comes back with something new.  Something you weren't expecting.  You pick up the phone to hear your doctor's voice, calling unexpectedly, using the word, "alarmed".  **deep breath**

I could not have predicted this journey with FAP (familial adenomatous polyposis).  I deluded myself that a surgery a few years back to prevent full-blown cancer was the end of the story.  I was a pre-vivor!  And yeah, I have other illnesses, but I can handle those!  This particular hereditary cancer syndrome, though, is tricky, and new polyps are happy to form wherever they wish, of a type that become cancerous if left in place to thrive.

Another procedure looms to vacate a plump and cantankerous growth and many of his smaller neighbors.  Another team of folks trying to keep me strong and cancer-free.  I am so very grateful for all the wise and skilled people guiding me to wellness.  But I needed a moment to catch my breath...

We decided to run away, just for a few days, to the place most sacred and healing for me: the blue, blue mountains of my beloved Virginia.  We wandered.  We laughed.  We walked.  We ate.  We adventured.  And my heart burst open wide. 

I found the camera pointing at textures, focusing in small and profound.  These tiny moments, stay here, linger here.  Here is healing.  Here are secrets waiting to be heard. 

Let me share these tiny moments with you...

mulberry muffins and memories...

Some friends... you know the ones... lift your spirits and make your heart happy.  They're the ones who surprise you with treasures that they just know you'll love.  You giggle with delight at the same things.  You learn and grow together with them.  (And they're the ones that make a pact with you that neither of you has to clean the house before the other one visits... but that's another story.)  What makes them even more special is the wee people they're nurturing, wondrous children filled with excitement and curiosity and intelligence.

I am so blessed to have just such a friend, raising two beautiful daughters.  May I introduce you to one of them?  Her name is Nettie and I've known her since she was a tiny baby.  She makes me think and makes me smile and makes me see the world in new ways.  And she shares my love of overalls.

On a recent visit with her family, Nettie gave me a delicious gift:  fresh mulberries picked from their tree!  The berries were nestled in a lovely little pocket, tied with a perfect yellow bow.  I tasted one (well, maybe two or three) right away... sweet and juicy and perfect.  As we drove away with the mulberries, I knew exactly what I'd do:  bake mulberry muffins!

But how?  So, of course, I roamed the interwebs, searching for a delicious and somewhat healthy recipe.  And there it was:  Ginger-Wheat Mulberry Muffins from Sommer at A Spicy Perspective.  The recipe looked easy, healthier than some others from which I'd quickly clicked away, and contained crystallized ginger yumminess to compliment the mulberries!

Flouring the mulberries is a must and I do have a small addiction to Ziploc baggies (and paper towels and April Cornell clothing and...), so in the bag for a gentle shake before I began.  And another quick moment to chop that zingy-sweet ginger!

Into the mixing bowl went the ingredients, with the addition of some toasted and chopped pecans...

And then into the muffin pan to bake...

And soon we had wonderful bites of Springtime!!!

Thank you, Nettie, for the tasty gift of mulberries... and thank you, Nettie's mom, for the gift of friendship.

traveling altars...

altar

noun, often attributive al·tar \ˈȯl-tər\

a platform or table used as a center of worship in Christian ceremonies and services

It's been a year.  Twelve months of appointments and medications and tests and procedures.  

I live with layers of chronic health concerns.  Sometimes my diabetes plays nice; sometimes I'm unable to track what has my numbers roller-coaster-ing.  Last year I began a long and hard-to-treat flare of existing gastroparesis.  Weight began to melt away.  Food, once a great joy and comfort, became an enemy.  Pain became constant.  My team of medical caregivers kept searching for answers ... and found them. 

I also have familial adenomatous polyposis (FAP), a rare hereditary colon cancer syndrome.  I lost my colon to this condition a few years ago, and somehow missed the memo that FAP was still very present.  A few months ago the doctor found polyps in my stomach again, nothing really new, but then polyps were also found through the length of my small intestine.  The trouble with FAP is that these polyps can turn cancerous when no one is watching, and they had to be removed.  After an attempt by my specialist to locate and remove the largest of the growths, and after being turned down by a local group of specialists for a more complex procedure ("this patient's needs would be better met at a teaching hospital"), I was referred to UNC Chapel Hill.

Doctors had never indicated that I was beyond their capabilities before.  My primary care physician had never had a patient needing this more complex procedure.  I'd never traveled hours away for treatment before.  To say I was a little unnerved is an understatement.

Then in April my friend, Kathleen, reached out with an invitation to a small group of women:  gather at New Earth Farm for bonding, encouragement, and creating traveling altars.  Her sister-in-law, Daisy, a hospital chaplain, would be there to share examples and ideas with us.  It was the perfect, just-for-me gift at the perfect, just-as-God-timed-it moment.  I accepted with gratitude.

The day was chilly and windy, but the gathering spot was cozy and warm.  Friends, new and treasured, arrived unexpectedly, filling my heart with happiness!  One dear soul brought hats for everyone, a welcome gift on such a chilly day as we wandered the farm.  

Everyone brought supplies and tools which spilled out along the long table amongst the softly flickering candles.  Traveling altar examples were placed on shelves with books and put-up jars of yumminess.  

Tiny boxes were transformed while strong women talked of challenges and joys.  Each box would hold beauty, strips of paper for penning prayers, and a wee candle to light.  The boxes were different sizes and shapes and materials; each a special creation for quiet prayers and meditation that could be closed tight and carried to many destinations.

At the end of the day, as we stood and shared tasty treats, our traveling altars were placed together on the long table, our offering of praise and thankfulness for the time spent together.  Farmer John came to admire the work of our hands and obliged us by taking our group photos.

My traveling altar was ready for my journeys ahead...  wherever my God leads...