My New Name

I got a life changing piece of mail today. It was a social security card with my new name blazoned across the front. Geraldine Marie Buckley Ellrod. My now official name. 

(Although for storytelling and other professional purposes I will still be Geraldine Buckley. It is hard for a long-established leopard to change its spots...)

I went to the Social Security office last Friday with a notarized copy of my wedding licence, dated November 12th 2022. A long conversation ensued. What do you want your new name to be? said the wonderfully chatty clerk. She was fascinated by the fact that this was my first marriage. 

She told me she was fifty and single. 

I gave her fresh hope.

"Do you want to drop the Marie? Do you want Buckley to be your middle name?  We don't really count those so you would in effect be Geraldine Ellrod? Or do you want to hyphenate your last name and be Geraldine Marie Buckley-Ellrod?

Or do you want your last name to be two words Buckley Ellrod, and keep Marie as your middle name? 

"Whatever you decide now will be permanent," she said. "If you want to change it you will have to go to the court house."

Such decisions!

I am incredibly proud of being married to Rick Ellrod, officially known as Frederick Ellrod lll. I love that man. I am delighted to be married to him, and I wanted to take his name. 

However pride got the best of me. A few of my British friends have received the incredible honor of having bestowed upon them the much respected title, Member  of the British Empire. Known as an MBE. It is given to British subjects who have distinguished themselves in their field, and by doing so have made a great impact on the British, and indeed worldwide, public. 

To receive an MBE you get dressed up in your most elevated finery and go off to Buckingham Palace to be presented with the much-sought after medal by a member of the working Royal Family. Alas no longer by our late and glorious Queen. 

I realized that by being Geraldine Buckley Ellrod I would be Geraldine MBE. Most likely the only way I would receive that honor. 

Which explains the name that is now on the social security card that arrived today.

2022 - An Incredible Year of Change

What an extraordinary year this has been. A year of endings and beginnings. A year where fervent prayers have been answered. A year of stories, miracles, and quiet, deep, steadfast, love. 

Indeed I am awash with gratefulness as this year ends. 

For the first seven months of this year, besides doing much Storytelling virtually and in person, I had the privilege of continuing as a hospice chaplain. I worked with the most caring, competent, genuinely lovely professional team imaginable. We were the Home Hospice Team of BridgingLife Hospice in Westminster, Maryland consisting of nurses, social workers, aides, and chaplains who went into people's homes to care for the dying and their families. 

I gathered incredible stories of families' care, sacrifice, and often humor as they midwifed a love one into eternity. Those memories keep washing over my mind bringing a moment of deep reflection, sometimes a wave of sadness, often a smile or a chuckle. 

The hospice experience taught me to be open to talking about death with strangers. 

The holidays can be a dismal time for those who are grieving a recent death or the anniversary of one. They hide their pain as the world around them celebrates. 

Sometimes they are relieved to share their sorrow. 

On Christmas Eve I was at an upmarket supermarket picking up a Yule Log for my brother's feast the next day. A store employee helped me with with the brutish automatic checkout station. 

It turned out that early the next morning he was starting a seventeen hour drive to see his mother. 

I have no idea why I told him that I'd been a hospice chaplain but once I did a look of relief came over his face. He said - "so I can tell you. I am going home to see my mother but also to say goodbye to my father who is on home hospice care."

And there among the Christmas carbs and hurry scurry of festive preparations he told me his story and shared his feelings. Two strangers connecting in an under-the- mask, heart to heart way. Just for a moment. But it is up there with one of my lasting memories of the season. All thanks to hospice training. 

I regretfully left hospice to joyfully plunge back into full time Storytelling. And to prepare my home and my heart to marry the truest, kindest, most loving and lovable man - an answer to decades of prayer. The biggest personal ending and beginning imaginable. 

There was one huge ending that rocked the world and had a huge impact on so many of our lives. The death of our beloved Queen Elizabeth ll after 70 years of impeccable, selfless service. Then the beginning of a new Royal era with the ascension of Charles 111. God bless the Queen, and long live the King. 

In other far less significant endings. My beloved Subaru Outback became far to friendly with a deer in Kentucky and their head on collision resulted in my new to me late model, bells and whistles filled version. 

My computer reached the end of its working days and has just been replaced with a new version that can do the most incredible, unimaginable things that bring joy to my technology-loving husband's heart!

So many changes great and small. 

So many things to learn. 

So much adapting needed. 

It has been a year of years. Life changing. 

The second act has ended in the play of my life. 

The third act begins. 

This New Years Eve , as I share my traditional end of year post and poem, I know that even though the future is uncertain - I am a freelance Storyteller after all - it will be undergirded with love. 

May that be true for you also in the coming year. 

My annual reflection:

"In the dark, uncertain days at the end of 1939 after Britain had declared war on Germany, King George V1 quoted this poem in his Christmas speech to the Empire. (It was taken from a longer work called "God Knows" penned by an academic turned missionary, Minnie Louise Haskins in 1908. More recently, the words were spoken at the Queen Mother's funeral in 2002.)

"And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:

"Give me a light, that I may tread safely into the unknown!"

And he replied:

"Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.

That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way"

In this coming year, through the loving power of the Ancient of Days, may hurting hearts be healed.  May long-awaited promises be fulfilled.  May hope push out despair.  May we dance often, and with passion. And may new doors of heart-soaring opportunity be flung open for all of us.  Amen!"

Teaching Veterans Storytelling at William and Mary

I am having the most wonderful time in Williamsburg with Stephanie Garibaldi. We are here at William and Mary teaching Storytelling  to Veterans who are transitioning from the services into business arenas. It is the most inspiring program - created by the Armed Services Arts Progran (ASAP) together with the University. The  participants are an incredible group of men and women - brave warriors all. 

The course consists of two days of teaching with a day off in the middle. On the first introductory day Stephanie and I were joined by Firefighter, Veteran and Storyteller Nick Baskerville. Tomorrow (Thursday) Stephanie and I will teach the story crafting and telling section solo. 

Today, on our down day, Stephanie and I caught up on three years of news. We told stories, laughed uproariously; perused some of Williamsburg's fabulous shops; ate glorious food; and plotted out a joint storytelling adventure that we are hoping to launch in the near future. 

More of that in a few weeks time. 

Exciting Times lie ahead!

In the meantime we are looking forward to another full day of classes. 

And so are the participants. 

They told us at that at the beginning of the course they hadn't had any idea what to expect and were somewhat reticent about storytelling. But soon, as they participated in story-finding exercises and games, and shared stories in pairs, the room had rung with laughter, and camaraderie and bonding took place before our eyes. 

The participants said they had been taken out of their comfort zone; rediscovered truths about themselves; remembered who they really were, and thoroughly enjoyed the journey. 

They had been introduced to - and reveled in - the incredible transformative power of Storytelling.

Glory!

I am having the most wonderful time in Williamsburg with Stephanie Garibaldi. We are here at William and Mary teaching Storytelling  to Veterans who are transitioning from the services into business arenas. It is the most inspiring program - created by the Armed Services Arts Progran (ASAP) together with the University. The  participants are an incredible group of men and women - brave warriors all. 
The course consists of two days of teaching with a day off in the middle. On the first introductory day Stephanie and I were joined by Firefighter, Veteran and Storyteller Nick Baskerville. Tomorrow (Thursday) Stephanie and I will teach the story crafting and telling section solo. 
Today, on our down day, Stephanie and I caught up on three years of news. We told stories, laughed uproariously; perused some of Williamsburg's fabulous shops; ate glorious food; and plotted out a joint storytelling adventure that we are hoping to launch in the near future. 
More of that in a few weeks time. 
Exciting Times lie ahead!
In the meantime we are looking forward to another full day of classes. 
And so are the participants. 
They told us at that at the beginning of the course they hadn't had any idea what to expect and were somewhat reticent about storytelling. But soon, as they participated in story-finding exercises and games, and shared stories in pairs, the room had rung with laughter, and camaraderie and bonding took place before our eyes. 
The participants said they had been taken out of their comfort zone; rediscovered truths about themselves; remembered who they really were, and thoroughly enjoyed the journey. 
They had been introduced to - and reveled in - the incredible transformative power of Storytelling.
Glory!

Ice on Snow

Last night the one hour drive back from seeing my love in Fairfax, VA, took two and a half hours. The snow, that had been gently drifting down when I left, quickly turned into a heavy outpouring accompanied by icy rain. 

I was so grateful that I had spent several winters in Canada, and that I drive an all wheel drive Subaru Outback. Even so, great chunks of ice attached themselves to my windscreen wipers causing them to thud, thud, thud, against the windscreen barely removing the sheet of ice that had formed making it incredibly difficult to see. Traffic crawled forwards. I skidded a couple of times. 

It was scary. 

I prayed furiously. 

A few hours after getting home I saw that a sheet of ice had covered my front living room bay window making it impossible to see the driveway that lies right outside. 

I was not looking forward to the shoveling that loomed in my near future. 

Thick ice on top of snow. Nightmare!

This morning I delayed the inevitable. 

So I was overjoyed just now when my doorbell rang. Standing there was a young lad with a woolen hat, shovel, and a mask covering what I knew to be his sweet, cheeky grin. 

Anthony has shoveled my driveway a few times over the last several years. This time he is taller, fourteen, and much better at negotiating. Also there is some expensive, electronic, musical-wizardry he is saving up to buy. 

Despite the sharp rise in the price of hard labor, I am delighted to have made a contribution to the creative aspirations of the upcoming generation. 

And to not have to shovel. 

Thank you, Anthony. 

And thank you Lord!

Beginnings and Endings - Thanksgiving Blessings

As we approach Thanksgiving I am incredibly grateful for many things, including two images that keep replaying in my mind. Both events happened recently in my role as a hospice chaplain. Both were deeply moving blessings at opposite ends of life’s continuum. 

The first took place in a rural, cosy farmhouse deep in Maryland’s arable land. 

My patient was an older man. His wife of fifty years was gently rocking their baby granddaughter in her arms. The child was nestled into her warmth, her safety, her love, and soon relaxed into sleep. 

The couple shared their life, their story. Being together for such a long time is sometimes a matter of courage and rugged endurance rather than hearts and roses. 

And then we all bowed our head to pray.

Suddenly I realized that the child had woken up, silently slid off her grandma’s lap, and was standing in front of me with her arms raised. I looked at her grandmother, who smiled, and so I lifted up the child who then immediately cuddled into me before playing with my glasses. The prayer didn’t stop throughout this. It flowed on. I don’t think my patient realized that there had been a changing of laps until later. 

I have never had a physical child of my own, although I have nephews and a niece whom I love. And I have had many spiritual sons and daughters - including my “big, bad boys” when I was chaplain in a men’s prison. So this child, coming to me in that way, clearly feeling so comfortable in my arms, while we were communing with the Almighty, deeply moved me. A loving blessing. A cuddly, kissable, unexpected package that melted my heart. 

The second image, that took place in a more urban setting, is of an British man in his nineties who had lost his wife a few months before. I knew them before she died. Theirs was a true, loving, adventure-filled union of over 60 years. 

We talked deeply. I played him music, English torch songs like The White Cliffs of Dover. His childhood favorite “The Grand Old Duke of York.” Classic British hymns sung by full-throated choirs such as “And Did Those Feet in Ancient Times Walk upon England’s Pastures Green?” We came to the last piece of music that he requested, Andrea Bocelli singing The Lord's Prayer

“Can  I hold your hand?” he said. 

And together, fingers linked, we listened to that glorious piece as heaven drew close to us and filled that room. I’m sure in his mind he was holding another British woman’s - his wife’s hand - while I was silently praying for peace, grace, and strength for him in the days ahead when he would no doubt be slipping through the veil. From life to real life. 

Both of those physical contacts in the midst of prayer - spoken and sung - were huge, meaningful blessings to me. From a child at the beginning of life, to a fellow countryman at the end of his. The Lord’s presence was rich and thick in both settings. 

It reminds me that the Lord promises us that He will always be with us in our beginnings and our endings - as well as in all our in betweens. He will never let us go, never leave or forsake us. 

No matter what you are feeling as Thanksgiving approaches - joy, trepidation, grief, excitement. Whether you will be surrounded by friends and family; celebrating by yourself, unwillingly or not; or grieving someone who is no longer there, may you feel the Lord’s love in unexpected, meaningful ways. 

May tangible blessings touch you. 

And may you know in deep, soul-warming ways, that you are loved, and never alone.