What a strange year this has been. Everything was seemingly normal until 6 months ago when wham, everything changed. Our lives as we knew them were turned upside down. Sometimes I like that. I like when things change and there's an air of expectancy, you just know that something fun is about to happen. That wasn't the case this time.
No, we had gone and done exactly what I never wanted to do. I had plugged in and made friends in the new little town we had moved to 5 years ago. How dumb was that? We knew we weren't staying long. As I've said before, I thought maybe 2 or 3 years, tops. And then we'd move back to where we'd be closer to our kids and grandkids. However, those 2 or 3 years turned into 5 years and my heart (at least a piece of it) now belonged to them. Them being the friends and neighbors we made while living there. You'd think I'd learn, but no. I like people, and I like to make friends, and I really like to explore my surroundings, and then I fall in love with all the above.
Why do I do that? I know it's only going to hurt when I leave. I guess it's just the way God made me. I'm a plugger inner. Who knew? So, for 5 years I either spent Christmas in our new little town or we'd go to one of our kid's houses. Either way, it never felt normal. To me, it felt strange and temporary, almost as if we were all staying at a hotel. And while that may sound like fun, it's not. Not at Christmas. I need those warm fuzzy feelings of hearth and home. I need the smell of cookies and firewood, trees, and bread to make it feel like Christmas.
One of our Christmases we did manage to all end up at our house, 14 of us. It was so much fun for me that I almost forgot that we all lived in different towns and cities and states. Almost. After they all went home I cried. I missed my old house, my old life, and my kids.
This past August we moved back to Ohio, close to 2 of our kids and only 6 hours away from another. That might sound like a long way away, but after a 13-hour drive to visit them, well, this seems like a cake walk. I am over the moon with happiness to be so close to my kids. I love it. I love everything about it. The babysitting, the visiting, the lunches and dinners, the holidays. It's wonderful. Almost.
What I didn't realize is that this Christmas I would be desperately missing my friends and neighbors. I thought (I hoped) it would be an easy transition. After all, isn't this what I wanted? Didn't I want to live close to my children and grandchildren? And yet, even though the answer to that question is a resounding YES, I still miss and long for my friends. What a strange year this has turned out to be.
One might think that the moral of this story would be to avoid friendships altogether--if you live a nomadic life such as mine that is. But that just isn't my personality or character. I happen to make friends wherever I go, whether it's on vacation or a business trip or a move across the country. I am the type to plug in, make friends, hunker down, and nest. That's what I do, I nest. And I'm OK with that. For I have found that over these many years of bouncing around, and all these years of collecting friends, and all these years of meeting the most incredible people, well, I wouldn't change a thing. They have influenced my life in ways they'll never know. I wouldn't be who I am today without them--they have been such a huge part of who I have become.
So, this Christmas I am asking that you allow me to be a little sad. I'm OK. I just miss my friends. It isn't that I don't love my family or that I didn't want to move back to Ohio. It's just a very simple fact of life--when you make friends and move away from them, something deep down inside is missing. I'll hold on to my memories though and hope and pray that they'll come visit me. And I them. For I deeply love them and can't imagine a life without them.
Merry Christmas everyone. Hold tight to your friends and family this year. For you never know where you'll be next year. You just never know.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Friday, December 18, 2015
Making Adjustments
I'm thinking that I just might be one of these types of people who learn a little differently or a little more slowly than most. I tend to be a slow processor or a visual learner. Even when God drops something profound into my heart, it takes me a while to assimilate and make it a real part of my learning experience. And then, eventually, I grasp it fully and move on.
It's happening like that now. Slowly and surely adjustments are being made to my life. I'll be honest with you though, sometimes those adjustments hurt. I really don't like them much. However, afterward? Well, afterward I find that in looking back, I wouldn't have it any other way. Those adjustments save me in so many ways. As I was sitting in Bible study the other morning surrounded by friends old and new, God began to speak to me, in his soft, clear, strong voice--He talked while I listened. I really didn't hear much of what was said for the rest of the morning by the other ladies--for I was stuck. Stuck on what He was showing me. We had just read the verse in the Bible about Him being the vine and we are the branches--and then my brain took off. That's kind of how God works with me. He's very patient, kind and loving, He never pushes me, He just waits for me to keep up and learn. I appreciate that.
I think the best way to describe this exercise is to explain it this way. I have a new puppy. She is 6 months old and I've named her Coco Chanel #4. She is a bi-black Shetland Sheepdog. I could tell you the whole long boring story behind her naming but I'll make it short. She's my 4th sheltie and I wanted a Chanel handbag for my 60th birthday--thus the dog and her name. So, as I do with all my new puppies I signed us up for puppy training classes. Puppy 101. It consists mainly of simple commands and socializing said puppy. She's learned to sit, down, stand and come--with heal and stay in the near future--Puppy 102 when she graduates. I'm not kidding. And yes, there will be a 3 and a 4, as I continue to train her for future agility and obedience courses and shows. We're going all the way with this puppy, she's fast and she's smart, and for the most part pretty compliant.
And while it might sound like I am talking about puppy training here, I'm not. Not really. I'm actually talking about the way God trains me. I've been in classes with Him my entire life. From the minute I accepted Him into my heart I've been in training. I've learned to sit, come, down, heel, stand, and just about any other command that He might throw my way. Yes, I've been obedient for the most part--as far as I know. However, along the way, in classes 1-10 maybe not so much. I'm thinking I probably pulled on the lead, lagged behind, raced forward, downed when I should have sat, etc. I think you get the point. And yet, He never once hit me, kicked me, yelled at me or got rid of me. He was patient, kind, understanding, gentle and loved me unconditionally. Yes, once in awhile He jerked up on my choke chain, He might have even given me a stern NO, or two, but never, ever, out of hatred. No, it was always out of love.
And that's kind of how I am with my new puppy. First off, she has managed to worm her way into my heart. And secondly, I am training her out of love. I want her to be obedient, as much for her benefit as mine.
So, back to the branches thing. What God showed me that morning was the importance of me always remembering that He and He alone is the vine. It's when I take that role upon myself that I find I get into trouble. I'm the branch. I need to remember that. It's a very simple analogy. However, one I believe that most of us humans complicate. And I think that that morning God was gently reminding me of my place. At His side, not pulling or lagging. Just right beside Him, my eyes looking up to His face, waiting for my next command.
I watch my little puppy do this at 6 months old. She sits there next to me, looking, waiting, willing, trusting. I wonder--can I do that with my God? That was my real lesson that morning. One of teaching. And no, you're never too old to learn, I am proof of that.
It's happening like that now. Slowly and surely adjustments are being made to my life. I'll be honest with you though, sometimes those adjustments hurt. I really don't like them much. However, afterward? Well, afterward I find that in looking back, I wouldn't have it any other way. Those adjustments save me in so many ways. As I was sitting in Bible study the other morning surrounded by friends old and new, God began to speak to me, in his soft, clear, strong voice--He talked while I listened. I really didn't hear much of what was said for the rest of the morning by the other ladies--for I was stuck. Stuck on what He was showing me. We had just read the verse in the Bible about Him being the vine and we are the branches--and then my brain took off. That's kind of how God works with me. He's very patient, kind and loving, He never pushes me, He just waits for me to keep up and learn. I appreciate that.
I think the best way to describe this exercise is to explain it this way. I have a new puppy. She is 6 months old and I've named her Coco Chanel #4. She is a bi-black Shetland Sheepdog. I could tell you the whole long boring story behind her naming but I'll make it short. She's my 4th sheltie and I wanted a Chanel handbag for my 60th birthday--thus the dog and her name. So, as I do with all my new puppies I signed us up for puppy training classes. Puppy 101. It consists mainly of simple commands and socializing said puppy. She's learned to sit, down, stand and come--with heal and stay in the near future--Puppy 102 when she graduates. I'm not kidding. And yes, there will be a 3 and a 4, as I continue to train her for future agility and obedience courses and shows. We're going all the way with this puppy, she's fast and she's smart, and for the most part pretty compliant.
And while it might sound like I am talking about puppy training here, I'm not. Not really. I'm actually talking about the way God trains me. I've been in classes with Him my entire life. From the minute I accepted Him into my heart I've been in training. I've learned to sit, come, down, heel, stand, and just about any other command that He might throw my way. Yes, I've been obedient for the most part--as far as I know. However, along the way, in classes 1-10 maybe not so much. I'm thinking I probably pulled on the lead, lagged behind, raced forward, downed when I should have sat, etc. I think you get the point. And yet, He never once hit me, kicked me, yelled at me or got rid of me. He was patient, kind, understanding, gentle and loved me unconditionally. Yes, once in awhile He jerked up on my choke chain, He might have even given me a stern NO, or two, but never, ever, out of hatred. No, it was always out of love.
And that's kind of how I am with my new puppy. First off, she has managed to worm her way into my heart. And secondly, I am training her out of love. I want her to be obedient, as much for her benefit as mine.
So, back to the branches thing. What God showed me that morning was the importance of me always remembering that He and He alone is the vine. It's when I take that role upon myself that I find I get into trouble. I'm the branch. I need to remember that. It's a very simple analogy. However, one I believe that most of us humans complicate. And I think that that morning God was gently reminding me of my place. At His side, not pulling or lagging. Just right beside Him, my eyes looking up to His face, waiting for my next command.
I watch my little puppy do this at 6 months old. She sits there next to me, looking, waiting, willing, trusting. I wonder--can I do that with my God? That was my real lesson that morning. One of teaching. And no, you're never too old to learn, I am proof of that.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Watching God
Yes, I am a God watcher. I have been watching Him since I was about 5 1/2 years old. I watched Him change my parent's lives. I watched Him change the lives of other adults around me too. And I watched Him meet my basic needs and then some. Always. Never once did He let me down.
As I sit here today thinking about God during this time of year--Autumn, I always wax nostalgic. I become even more aware of all the things in my life that I am thankful for. My gratitude swells, my eyes mist over, and my heart leaps in my chest when I think of God and all that He has done for me.
Not to dwell too much on my childhood (but just enough to make my point) I watched God move in and through my life. I watched Him draw me to Him, and then I watched as He protected me, provided for me, and comforted me. He was always there, just a breath away. All I ever had to do was call for Him. I would and still do feel His presence immediately.
Yes, I am a God watcher. As an adult, I have watched Him heal my family and friends, mend their marriages, and provide them with jobs. It's kind of funny though--as I prayed for them, there was never any doubt in my mind that He was not hearing me. No, I knew that I knew, that He heard every word I spoke. And I also knew that if it was in any way going to benefit the people I love, well, He would answer my prayers for them.
As I raised my own little family, I watched Him work in the hearts and lives of my children. And now, the same, with my grandchildren. My prayer is that they too will become God watchers. And that they will come to rely on Him the way I do.
When it came (comes) to pray for me, it's much the same. I pray, He hears. I then watch as He works. It's always been that way, and I see no reason for it to change or be any different. As long as I keep watching, I'll keep seeing. Notice that I did not say--as long as I keep watching, He'll keep working. Nope. I meant what I said the first time. He is always working, He'll never stop working. And I am always watching. I've got my eyes on Him. That awesome father of mine. He hasn't failed me yet.
I'm watching Him right now. I'm watching as He heals my heart--it's a little broken. I miss my friends, and right now I'm watching Him add to my collection. I'm making new friends. I'm watching Him watch me as I play with my new little puppy. He watched me all those nights as I cried myself to sleep mourning the death of my beautiful little Sheltie--yes, He cared enough to watch over me even then. He's watching me heal, from the inside out. He's right there watching me smile, and laugh, run, and play with my new little pup. And I feel Him smiling. He wants me happy. He's my father.
To have this kind of relationship with God is life changing. I rest in His arms, He holds me and protects me, and I really don't worry about too much at all. What I do is watch. Because I am a God watcher. And He is a me watcher. How about that? He's watching over me. Every single minute of every single day. For the rest of my life--He's watching over me.
That is what I see and feel as I look at autumn colors and feel those cool fall breezes and close my eyes and smell wood burning in fireplaces and hear the crunch of leaves under my feet as I walk my little dog. God is watching me, and I am watching Him.
Grateful, thankful, humbled before God my father--as I watch Him.
As I sit here today thinking about God during this time of year--Autumn, I always wax nostalgic. I become even more aware of all the things in my life that I am thankful for. My gratitude swells, my eyes mist over, and my heart leaps in my chest when I think of God and all that He has done for me.
Not to dwell too much on my childhood (but just enough to make my point) I watched God move in and through my life. I watched Him draw me to Him, and then I watched as He protected me, provided for me, and comforted me. He was always there, just a breath away. All I ever had to do was call for Him. I would and still do feel His presence immediately.
Yes, I am a God watcher. As an adult, I have watched Him heal my family and friends, mend their marriages, and provide them with jobs. It's kind of funny though--as I prayed for them, there was never any doubt in my mind that He was not hearing me. No, I knew that I knew, that He heard every word I spoke. And I also knew that if it was in any way going to benefit the people I love, well, He would answer my prayers for them.
As I raised my own little family, I watched Him work in the hearts and lives of my children. And now, the same, with my grandchildren. My prayer is that they too will become God watchers. And that they will come to rely on Him the way I do.
When it came (comes) to pray for me, it's much the same. I pray, He hears. I then watch as He works. It's always been that way, and I see no reason for it to change or be any different. As long as I keep watching, I'll keep seeing. Notice that I did not say--as long as I keep watching, He'll keep working. Nope. I meant what I said the first time. He is always working, He'll never stop working. And I am always watching. I've got my eyes on Him. That awesome father of mine. He hasn't failed me yet.
I'm watching Him right now. I'm watching as He heals my heart--it's a little broken. I miss my friends, and right now I'm watching Him add to my collection. I'm making new friends. I'm watching Him watch me as I play with my new little puppy. He watched me all those nights as I cried myself to sleep mourning the death of my beautiful little Sheltie--yes, He cared enough to watch over me even then. He's watching me heal, from the inside out. He's right there watching me smile, and laugh, run, and play with my new little pup. And I feel Him smiling. He wants me happy. He's my father.
To have this kind of relationship with God is life changing. I rest in His arms, He holds me and protects me, and I really don't worry about too much at all. What I do is watch. Because I am a God watcher. And He is a me watcher. How about that? He's watching over me. Every single minute of every single day. For the rest of my life--He's watching over me.
That is what I see and feel as I look at autumn colors and feel those cool fall breezes and close my eyes and smell wood burning in fireplaces and hear the crunch of leaves under my feet as I walk my little dog. God is watching me, and I am watching Him.
Grateful, thankful, humbled before God my father--as I watch Him.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
My Belgian Lace
This week we said goodbye to our beautiful Shetland Sheepdog. She was only 10 years old and she had cancer. We've known since January when a large tumor was removed from her lower back. I guess I should be thankful--she lived another 9 months. Everyone (the Vets) were surprised at how well she was doing. Right up until the very end, she played, loved her walks, and was seemingly happy. However, those last couple of weeks--well, things went downhill quickly. I won't go into detail, but we knew, we just knew, our baby dog was in pain. She wanted us to let her go.
Putting a dog down is one of the hardest things in life for me. I am a total and complete dog person. I grew up with dogs, my kids grew up with dogs and now as an empty nester, I still have dogs. I will always have a dog. And I have loved this dog, my Lacey, with all my heart. She was super intelligent, very intuitive and completely and unconditionally loving. We took her everywhere with us, we traveled with her, romped through parks with her, took long car rides--yes, she was a trooper.
Each and every time I go through this horrible ordeal of losing a dog, I wish I had never owned one.
And then I go and do it all over again. Because I love them. Their hearts are so big, their love so undying, how can one not love (or have) a dog? So, if you are not a dog lover, you will probably have a very hard time relating to this blog post. And that's OK. But, I have to write about it. This is part of my everyday life. My life with my dog. I have sacrificed many things for my dog. Time, money, trips--you name it. I did it willingly because I love my dogs.
God has given us, no, blessed us with such companions. I am so thankful for that. I know that in time I will grow to love my newest little sheltie. I know that she too will hold a special place in my heart. And even though I am telling myself--don't love her quite so deeply, I will. I know I will. For I am a sheltie mom--through and through. I just love them.
So, Monday afternoon at 2:45 I hugged my Lacey girl goodbye for the very last time. After she died, I sobbed for 24 hours straight. Now I'm down to making it a few hours without breaking down crying. I'm almost afraid to go anywhere or do anything for fear of crying. Everything reminds me of her. I miss her so much.
I'm getting better though. I'm letting myself have time to grieve. I'm allowing myself to feel sad. I know that as each day passes, I'll feel a little better. I know she is pain-free, I know that she felt tremendous love and I know that God put her on this earth just for me.
And I am so thankful for a husband who understands. He has held me when I cried my eyes out and he has cried right along with me.
I do know that this pain is real. This love for my Lacey girl is real. And I also know that God will heal this pain, and mend my broken heart. He always has, He always will.
Saturday, September 19, 2015
City Glasses
I have a major defect in my personality. My daughter told me it's called City Glasses. It's a malady known to/by optimists. I think we all (optimists, that is) might be guilty of it. Although most of the time I seriously doubt that we are even aware of this affliction. And some might agree that not all afflictions are bad, no, some are rather good, some are ones to strive for and some are ones to cherish. I do, I cherish my optimism, I truly do. For without it, I'm not so sure I would have emotionally survived my life thus far. It's been a gift. And I'm thankful for that gift.
Why is it called City Glasses? Well, because when I have had to move, and move I have, I have embraced each and every city. With arms wide open, I rush in, grab on and hug each city with all my might. For me, it's a form of self-preservation. I guess I have a tendency to view my new city through rose-colored glasses. I have to, otherwise, I would die inside, and then before long, there would be nothing left of me that would be vibrant and alive, and that surely is not my personality at all.
So, I put on my rose-colored city glasses and I look at my new city and I find everything there is to find that is positive. New restaurants, parks, festivals, etc., if it's there, I'll find it. I'll know more about my new city in one year than most long timers will ever know. I embrace it, research it, enjoy it, and look forward to my future. Yes, sometimes it's hard. Sometimes, it is almost downright impossible and yet, I do it. I find something. In each city, I find something.
So, with my city glasses on, I move forward. It isn't that I forget about my old city, or that I've changed my mind as to the previous discoveries in my old city. I am, however, moving on. I have to--to remain positive.
Here is my advice--for what it's worth. Wherever you live, wherever you go, whatever God has called you to do--put on a pair of City Glasses. View things through God's eyes rather than you own. Look at people and places with new eyes. Embrace your surroundings and ask yourself this--what can I glean from this experience? If I'm here for a day or a lifetime--what can I learn?
In a nutshell, that's what I do. Right or wrong, it's how God has shaped my personality and attitude over the span of my life. It's the ability to refocus and lean into my surroundings. And I like it. I like my City Glasses. They are so pretty.
Why is it called City Glasses? Well, because when I have had to move, and move I have, I have embraced each and every city. With arms wide open, I rush in, grab on and hug each city with all my might. For me, it's a form of self-preservation. I guess I have a tendency to view my new city through rose-colored glasses. I have to, otherwise, I would die inside, and then before long, there would be nothing left of me that would be vibrant and alive, and that surely is not my personality at all.
So, I put on my rose-colored city glasses and I look at my new city and I find everything there is to find that is positive. New restaurants, parks, festivals, etc., if it's there, I'll find it. I'll know more about my new city in one year than most long timers will ever know. I embrace it, research it, enjoy it, and look forward to my future. Yes, sometimes it's hard. Sometimes, it is almost downright impossible and yet, I do it. I find something. In each city, I find something.
So, with my city glasses on, I move forward. It isn't that I forget about my old city, or that I've changed my mind as to the previous discoveries in my old city. I am, however, moving on. I have to--to remain positive.
Here is my advice--for what it's worth. Wherever you live, wherever you go, whatever God has called you to do--put on a pair of City Glasses. View things through God's eyes rather than you own. Look at people and places with new eyes. Embrace your surroundings and ask yourself this--what can I glean from this experience? If I'm here for a day or a lifetime--what can I learn?
In a nutshell, that's what I do. Right or wrong, it's how God has shaped my personality and attitude over the span of my life. It's the ability to refocus and lean into my surroundings. And I like it. I like my City Glasses. They are so pretty.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Birthday Love Letter
Normally I wouldn't do this. I wouldn't post something that someone else wrote to me. However, this is different. This is a love letter from my husband. It means more to me than any gift I have ever received--ever. The reason that I and posting it is because I want my children and grandchildren to know what kind of man their father and grandfather truly is and was. I want them to be like him--to love someone the real way, the right way, the Biblical way, unconditionally. There really isn't a day that goes by that I do not thank God for him. He is and always will be the only one for me. I hope and pray that this letter touches their hearts the way it did mine.
To: The Love of my Life September 16, 2015
It seems almost unbelievable that we have been together for over 43 years and now find ourselves celebrating your 60’th Birthday. I can’t imagine a life without you. You have blessed me so much over the years that a simple note will never capture or convey it all. I want to at least share a few ways you have made this life of mine the happiest and loving I could ever want.
Funny, I wrote a dozen lines and when reading it back it sounded like a press release about a new CEO . Scrapped that…
“Take II”
I love you in so many ways I cannot even begin to express them. You are beautiful – yes beautiful and charming. You are unique, not the cookie cutter person that some are attracted to, and that is one of your best qualities and one of many things I love about you so much. You love me unconditionally and that has meant we were together for better or worse, through thick and thin. Easy words to say when the romance is fresh but tough to live out – you showed me how to do that and words can never express what that has meant to me. A love for a lifetime, a companion through all times, and my best friend. I even tear up writing this because you mean that much to me, you are truly the greatest love in life one can have this side of heaven.
Aside from falling in love with a cute brunette that drove me crazy every time I thought of her (and you still do) I never imagined the other important things a soul mate would mean over the long haul. You are my most ardent cheerleader, mentor, spiritual advisor, friend, companion, lover, helper, and guide when times are tough. Your wisdom and tenacity see us through. I would never be the professional, man, husband, or father I am today if it were not for you and your loving care and wisdom. I am who I am because of you.
You are the best parent a child could ever imagine and that meant my children would grow up in a balanced, structured, loving, and God fearing household. How does a love-struck boy dating a girl ever think of that or have a clue what a mother would be like? You are the reason our family is a loving thriving example of God’s ways.
So here we are, celebrating your 60’th year. And I get the feeling you are just getting started. I get so excited thinking about our next “60” or whatever God chooses to give us. Travel, dining, exploring, and yes, even shopping are in our future…
So here’s to the most beautiful, vivacious, hippest, and young grandmother anyone will ever meet.
I love you so much.
It seems almost unbelievable that we have been together for over 43 years and now find ourselves celebrating your 60’th Birthday. I can’t imagine a life without you. You have blessed me so much over the years that a simple note will never capture or convey it all. I want to at least share a few ways you have made this life of mine the happiest and loving I could ever want.
Funny, I wrote a dozen lines and when reading it back it sounded like a press release about a new CEO . Scrapped that…
“Take II”
I love you in so many ways I cannot even begin to express them. You are beautiful – yes beautiful and charming. You are unique, not the cookie cutter person that some are attracted to, and that is one of your best qualities and one of many things I love about you so much. You love me unconditionally and that has meant we were together for better or worse, through thick and thin. Easy words to say when the romance is fresh but tough to live out – you showed me how to do that and words can never express what that has meant to me. A love for a lifetime, a companion through all times, and my best friend. I even tear up writing this because you mean that much to me, you are truly the greatest love in life one can have this side of heaven.
Aside from falling in love with a cute brunette that drove me crazy every time I thought of her (and you still do) I never imagined the other important things a soul mate would mean over the long haul. You are my most ardent cheerleader, mentor, spiritual advisor, friend, companion, lover, helper, and guide when times are tough. Your wisdom and tenacity see us through. I would never be the professional, man, husband, or father I am today if it were not for you and your loving care and wisdom. I am who I am because of you.
You are the best parent a child could ever imagine and that meant my children would grow up in a balanced, structured, loving, and God fearing household. How does a love-struck boy dating a girl ever think of that or have a clue what a mother would be like? You are the reason our family is a loving thriving example of God’s ways.
So here we are, celebrating your 60’th year. And I get the feeling you are just getting started. I get so excited thinking about our next “60” or whatever God chooses to give us. Travel, dining, exploring, and yes, even shopping are in our future…
So here’s to the most beautiful, vivacious, hippest, and young grandmother anyone will ever meet.
I love you so much.
Happy Birthday,
Jerry
Jerry
Monday, September 7, 2015
This Mother's Heart
I have 3 adult children. I view them as adults. I do not tell them what to do, nor do I boss them around. I raised them to be independent, self-sufficient, hard working, kind, loving people. And they are. All three. They are that and more. And yet...there is this place in my heart where they remain my little ones. It's hard to explain, to say the words out loud, but I understand. I know what I mean.
Deep down in my heart, they are still my babies. They always will be. And by that I mean--they will always be a part of this mother's heart.
These crazy thoughts of mine hit home last week when my oldest, my daughter, had to have neck surgery. Two of the discs in her neck were crushed, so surgery was her only option. While I tried hard to remain strong and reassuring for her, I failed. Big time. Fail 101.
When she first told me of her symptoms, I prayed for her. She was in so much pain, and after two different doctors gave her the same diagnosis, she was told that she was facing surgery. I encouraged her as best I could over the phone and then after hanging up--I cried buckets. I was afraid. I thought of all the horrible things that could go wrong and I begged God to protect her. And then God would comfort me. He would tell me not to be afraid--fear not. He would tell me how much more He loved her than I do--after all, He died for her. He would tell me so many things, and afterward, after praying, I would feel better.
Surgery was inevitable. She asked us to come down and help with the house and grandkids while she was in the hospital and recuperating. Of course, we said yes. It was an honor for us to help in any way that we could. We arrived a day early to have a little fun before she would be housebound. We shopped a little, ate a lot, and tried not to think about what was on the horizon. However, Monday morning came. We were all up early, saying our goodbyes, hugging and crying. Most likely all thinking the same thing--what if...what if.
I tried so hard to be strong. To not cry, but as I stood there hugging my daughter, as her husband was waiting to take her to the hospital, I couldn't help it, I cried. And there she was--comforting me! Isn't that just like a daughter? She kept saying it'll be OK. It'll be OK. I was so very afraid for her. I held her a little longer, cried a little harder and then released her into God's arms for protection.
That morning I got my 2 oldest grandkids off to school. With lunches packed and new clothes laid out, they were off to their first day of the new school year. As a child, I can't imagine how difficult that must have been for them. Fortunately, they don't yet comprehend the horrors of a surgery gone bad. They fully trusted us as we told them that everything was going to be just fine.
When we got the phone call later that morning from our son-in-law that all went well, we were so relieved. I thanked God over and over for the outcome and that evening we all went to visit our daughter/mom at the hospital. She looked tired and drugged up, but good.
This mother's heart can't begin to describe the gratefulness I felt towards God in that very moment. I was thankful for so many things--she wasn't paralyzed, she lived through it, she didn't have a heart attack or a stroke, her vocal cords weren't damaged, and on and on. So very thankful. So very grateful.
We stayed for a week. We cleaned, took care of the grandkids, went grocery shopping, cooked, but most of all we watched as our daughter healed. Her husband stayed home from work and took great care of her. She's doing wonderful, healing up and making progress each day. Yes, we are thankful.
It's funny though--all that mom stuff. It comes up at the strangest times. This mother's heart. No matter the outcome of that surgery, no matter her age, no matter, well, anything really, she is still and always will be my little girl, my daughter, my friend. I will always be there for her, always take care of her, and always give her my heart. Always.
Deep down in my heart, they are still my babies. They always will be. And by that I mean--they will always be a part of this mother's heart.
These crazy thoughts of mine hit home last week when my oldest, my daughter, had to have neck surgery. Two of the discs in her neck were crushed, so surgery was her only option. While I tried hard to remain strong and reassuring for her, I failed. Big time. Fail 101.
When she first told me of her symptoms, I prayed for her. She was in so much pain, and after two different doctors gave her the same diagnosis, she was told that she was facing surgery. I encouraged her as best I could over the phone and then after hanging up--I cried buckets. I was afraid. I thought of all the horrible things that could go wrong and I begged God to protect her. And then God would comfort me. He would tell me not to be afraid--fear not. He would tell me how much more He loved her than I do--after all, He died for her. He would tell me so many things, and afterward, after praying, I would feel better.
Surgery was inevitable. She asked us to come down and help with the house and grandkids while she was in the hospital and recuperating. Of course, we said yes. It was an honor for us to help in any way that we could. We arrived a day early to have a little fun before she would be housebound. We shopped a little, ate a lot, and tried not to think about what was on the horizon. However, Monday morning came. We were all up early, saying our goodbyes, hugging and crying. Most likely all thinking the same thing--what if...what if.
I tried so hard to be strong. To not cry, but as I stood there hugging my daughter, as her husband was waiting to take her to the hospital, I couldn't help it, I cried. And there she was--comforting me! Isn't that just like a daughter? She kept saying it'll be OK. It'll be OK. I was so very afraid for her. I held her a little longer, cried a little harder and then released her into God's arms for protection.
That morning I got my 2 oldest grandkids off to school. With lunches packed and new clothes laid out, they were off to their first day of the new school year. As a child, I can't imagine how difficult that must have been for them. Fortunately, they don't yet comprehend the horrors of a surgery gone bad. They fully trusted us as we told them that everything was going to be just fine.
When we got the phone call later that morning from our son-in-law that all went well, we were so relieved. I thanked God over and over for the outcome and that evening we all went to visit our daughter/mom at the hospital. She looked tired and drugged up, but good.
This mother's heart can't begin to describe the gratefulness I felt towards God in that very moment. I was thankful for so many things--she wasn't paralyzed, she lived through it, she didn't have a heart attack or a stroke, her vocal cords weren't damaged, and on and on. So very thankful. So very grateful.
We stayed for a week. We cleaned, took care of the grandkids, went grocery shopping, cooked, but most of all we watched as our daughter healed. Her husband stayed home from work and took great care of her. She's doing wonderful, healing up and making progress each day. Yes, we are thankful.
It's funny though--all that mom stuff. It comes up at the strangest times. This mother's heart. No matter the outcome of that surgery, no matter her age, no matter, well, anything really, she is still and always will be my little girl, my daughter, my friend. I will always be there for her, always take care of her, and always give her my heart. Always.
Friday, August 28, 2015
Weather--As I See It
In the past 6 decades of my life (oh gosh, did I just say that?) I have had the privilege of living in 4 different States--2 of them twice. I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or bad, or if I should even cop to that fact, but I will. Yes, 4 States. California (2 times) and Florida, Ohio (2 times) and Illinois. So with the knowledge, I've gained from my living experiences in these States I am declaring myself the Seasonal Weather Queen. At least for the areas that I've lived in.
Let's start with California since that is where I started. I was born in Northern California and lived there for almost 45 years. Therefore--expert. Wouldn't you agree? I lived predominately in the valley--hot, dry and also extremely foggy. Foggy? Yep, I said foggy. Here is how the seasons went down where I lived. January and February--foggy, sweater weather. March--get out the swim suit. April through September, wear the suit and sweat because most of the time the temps are near 100 degrees or hotter. If I had to make a determination on if there was a Spring where I grew up, I'd say it was March and April. The flowers bloomed, the grass was green, the weather was comfortable.
However, by the time May arrived, I was usually in summer hell. And each day it just kept getting hotter. We would make outdoor plans and I would be panicking on the inside. I hate the heat. By September, I was dreaming and praying for Fall. Autumn in Northern California was October and November. I would wear sweaters and pretend it was cooler--as sweat rolled down the center of my back. Yep, still kind of hot. We'd decorate though and bake and think about those cool Fall crisp days--happening somewhere other than where I lived. The leaves on the trees would turn brown and fall off, there just wasn't any real "color" where I lived. And then there would be Christmas. And it was still warm. Warm enough for our kids to play outside on Christmas Day, warm enough for me to have the windows open because the oven was making the house too hot, warm enough for me to finally give up and throw off my sweater and replace it with a cooler shirt instead. Seasons in California? Hot and Fog. Yep, just those 2. But, that's just my opinion. That's just as I see it.
And then there was Florida. We lived in Ft Lauderdale for 1 year. 1 year too long. Let me be frank, I hate the heat. Throw in humidity and I am suicidal. Put me in Florida for a year and you are left with a whacked out basket case. No, to be fair, there was 1 month, I think, that I might have liked living in Florida. Maybe. What I do remember is this--it's hot, humid, sticky, rainy (every afternoon at 3:00) and there were the notorious Palmetto bugs, i.e. gigantic beetles! And by gigantic, I mean some were 3 to 4 inches long, I kid you not. Yep, I hated Florida. I hated that it was so warm that we went to a park on Thanksgiving, to the beach on Christmas Day, and went camping in February. Florida has 1 season--humid. No colors, no mountains, no waves on their ocean. It's a monotone state and it's just not for me. That's just how I see it.
On to the Mid-West. Oh my, oh my, is it different from California! We moved to Ohio in 1999 for the first time. I can vividly remember landing at the airport with our 3 (almost adult) children. It was freezing--literally. And as we disembarked with teeth chattering, well, let's just say that I'm glad we were in public, or I'm not sure what they (the kids) would have done to me. We had just landed at the beginning of a long Cleveland winter. 6 long months of snow, ice, and wind. I loved it. They hated it. And me. They hated me. This is how winter shakes down in Cleveland. November through April is Winter, May, and June--Spring, July and August--Summer, and September and October--Fall. You can pretty much set you calendars to this, it was that way the first 11 years that I lived there. Long cold snowy Winters, just how I like them and short Summers, just how I like them. It does get humid sometimes in the summer. But nothing like Florida. Nope, we had glorious fall colors, waterfalls, hiking trails and even our Lake Erie had waves! Weird, huh? It sort of reminded me at first of Lake Tahoe, meeting up with the Pacific Ocean. Maybe they had a baby and called it Ohio? Maybe?
When we moved to Chicago 5 years ago we noticed that the winters were shorter, which meant the summers were longer. Bummer. And whether this is true or not, it seemed more humid there. Double bummer. I hate Summer, and I hate humidity. But, I think I have already stated that fact.
So, Winter started mid-November and went through March, then came Spring which went through May. Summer started up in June and it was warm through September, which left October and part of November for Autumn. not too bad, if you like longer summers, which I don't. While living there we did have a couple of mild summers--low humidity, cooler evenings, and boy, did I love that. However, I was in the minority. Even on the news broadcast, the news anchors would complain--where's summer, where's the heat? I'd yell at the TV--go to Florida, you crazy people! I really did yell that.
We are back in Ohio now. And this time it's for keeps. I plan on retiring with my long Winters and short Summers. I love my 100 plus inches of snow every year. I love my crazy weather, my wind, sleet, rain, and drizzle. I don't miss the fog, nor the humidity. I now get my cold Thanksgiving Day mornings, my white Christmas, my fireplace, and also, just a couple of months of warmer weather--not too much, however, but just the way I like it. At least that's the way I see it.
It's interesting to me how weather affects our moods. Some are happiest in the Winter. Me! And some in the Summer. Everyone else. And that's OK. If we all work together and try hard not to complain too much when it isn't our "season" we might just make it through. After all, it changes. Right?
Let's start with California since that is where I started. I was born in Northern California and lived there for almost 45 years. Therefore--expert. Wouldn't you agree? I lived predominately in the valley--hot, dry and also extremely foggy. Foggy? Yep, I said foggy. Here is how the seasons went down where I lived. January and February--foggy, sweater weather. March--get out the swim suit. April through September, wear the suit and sweat because most of the time the temps are near 100 degrees or hotter. If I had to make a determination on if there was a Spring where I grew up, I'd say it was March and April. The flowers bloomed, the grass was green, the weather was comfortable.
However, by the time May arrived, I was usually in summer hell. And each day it just kept getting hotter. We would make outdoor plans and I would be panicking on the inside. I hate the heat. By September, I was dreaming and praying for Fall. Autumn in Northern California was October and November. I would wear sweaters and pretend it was cooler--as sweat rolled down the center of my back. Yep, still kind of hot. We'd decorate though and bake and think about those cool Fall crisp days--happening somewhere other than where I lived. The leaves on the trees would turn brown and fall off, there just wasn't any real "color" where I lived. And then there would be Christmas. And it was still warm. Warm enough for our kids to play outside on Christmas Day, warm enough for me to have the windows open because the oven was making the house too hot, warm enough for me to finally give up and throw off my sweater and replace it with a cooler shirt instead. Seasons in California? Hot and Fog. Yep, just those 2. But, that's just my opinion. That's just as I see it.
And then there was Florida. We lived in Ft Lauderdale for 1 year. 1 year too long. Let me be frank, I hate the heat. Throw in humidity and I am suicidal. Put me in Florida for a year and you are left with a whacked out basket case. No, to be fair, there was 1 month, I think, that I might have liked living in Florida. Maybe. What I do remember is this--it's hot, humid, sticky, rainy (every afternoon at 3:00) and there were the notorious Palmetto bugs, i.e. gigantic beetles! And by gigantic, I mean some were 3 to 4 inches long, I kid you not. Yep, I hated Florida. I hated that it was so warm that we went to a park on Thanksgiving, to the beach on Christmas Day, and went camping in February. Florida has 1 season--humid. No colors, no mountains, no waves on their ocean. It's a monotone state and it's just not for me. That's just how I see it.
On to the Mid-West. Oh my, oh my, is it different from California! We moved to Ohio in 1999 for the first time. I can vividly remember landing at the airport with our 3 (almost adult) children. It was freezing--literally. And as we disembarked with teeth chattering, well, let's just say that I'm glad we were in public, or I'm not sure what they (the kids) would have done to me. We had just landed at the beginning of a long Cleveland winter. 6 long months of snow, ice, and wind. I loved it. They hated it. And me. They hated me. This is how winter shakes down in Cleveland. November through April is Winter, May, and June--Spring, July and August--Summer, and September and October--Fall. You can pretty much set you calendars to this, it was that way the first 11 years that I lived there. Long cold snowy Winters, just how I like them and short Summers, just how I like them. It does get humid sometimes in the summer. But nothing like Florida. Nope, we had glorious fall colors, waterfalls, hiking trails and even our Lake Erie had waves! Weird, huh? It sort of reminded me at first of Lake Tahoe, meeting up with the Pacific Ocean. Maybe they had a baby and called it Ohio? Maybe?
When we moved to Chicago 5 years ago we noticed that the winters were shorter, which meant the summers were longer. Bummer. And whether this is true or not, it seemed more humid there. Double bummer. I hate Summer, and I hate humidity. But, I think I have already stated that fact.
So, Winter started mid-November and went through March, then came Spring which went through May. Summer started up in June and it was warm through September, which left October and part of November for Autumn. not too bad, if you like longer summers, which I don't. While living there we did have a couple of mild summers--low humidity, cooler evenings, and boy, did I love that. However, I was in the minority. Even on the news broadcast, the news anchors would complain--where's summer, where's the heat? I'd yell at the TV--go to Florida, you crazy people! I really did yell that.
We are back in Ohio now. And this time it's for keeps. I plan on retiring with my long Winters and short Summers. I love my 100 plus inches of snow every year. I love my crazy weather, my wind, sleet, rain, and drizzle. I don't miss the fog, nor the humidity. I now get my cold Thanksgiving Day mornings, my white Christmas, my fireplace, and also, just a couple of months of warmer weather--not too much, however, but just the way I like it. At least that's the way I see it.
It's interesting to me how weather affects our moods. Some are happiest in the Winter. Me! And some in the Summer. Everyone else. And that's OK. If we all work together and try hard not to complain too much when it isn't our "season" we might just make it through. After all, it changes. Right?
Monday, August 24, 2015
This Feels Right
I have so many mixed emotions roaring through my little brain right now. It's confusing and yet, not. It just feels right. This move of ours. It's hard to explain. Because on one hand, I am heartbroken and lonely and I desperately miss my old life. My friends, my house, my neighbors, my church, my book club, my Bible study, etc--my old life. What I used to do and have...I miss. Horribly. To the point of depression. Kind of. Well, more like sadness.
I've been praying about it. A lot. Because on the other hand, this just plain feels right. As I meet new neighbors, walk new streets, drive through the forests, watch my grandchildren play--it just feels right. And how can one be depressed when it feels right? Right? So, I pray.
I don't deny my feelings, nor do I wallow in them. I do, however, take them out and examine them. I hold them in my hand and then hold them up to God. And He very gently explains things to me. Like--it's ok to be lonely, to miss your friends and your old life. It's ok. He's very understanding of my feelings, He always has been.
However, my heart is happy when I "run into" my grandchildren at lunch or in a store and they run up to me yelling--Grandma! It just feels right--as though that is how it should have been all along. Living close by, babysitting, watching their sports games, having an impromptu lunch or dinner, yes, all those things should have been happening all along, but, they didn't. There was an interruption of 5 years. 5 years, 5 long years of separation. And I do wonder why. I think about it quite a bit. Why? Why 5 years? Why did I have to miss so much? I need to stop thinking about those 5 years. I need to focus on the here and now, but I can't. Those 5 years felt right too, in some strange weird way, they felt right too. The people I met, friends I made and places that I discovered would have never taken place had I not moved away for 5 years. It's a conundrum for sure. It makes my brain hurt.
Being happy and sad at the very same time, being content and yet heartsick, being thankful and yet sometimes sorrowful, these feelings of mine keep me on the verge of tears. At a moments notice I can see, smell, or touch something that throws my mind backward into time and before I know it, I have tears dripping down my cheeks.
There is nothing I can do, not really. I am trying hard to just roll with it. I am settling into this new little house and making it my own. I am making plans with my children and I am enjoying meeting up with old friends. Yes, this just feels right. Sometimes lately, I forget that I ever moved away, and sometimes, I remember--all at once. And then it's hard again.
As I sit here typing away on my laptop, I am wondering--how do I feel right now, this very minute--how do I feel? I feel good, I am happy, I am content and thankful, joyful and grateful. Yes, this just feels right. To have known and loved people from coast to coast, how could that not feel right?
So, my prayer today is one of appreciation. I truly appreciate all that God had done for me, through me and in me. Yes, this feels right. I am home.
I've been praying about it. A lot. Because on the other hand, this just plain feels right. As I meet new neighbors, walk new streets, drive through the forests, watch my grandchildren play--it just feels right. And how can one be depressed when it feels right? Right? So, I pray.
I don't deny my feelings, nor do I wallow in them. I do, however, take them out and examine them. I hold them in my hand and then hold them up to God. And He very gently explains things to me. Like--it's ok to be lonely, to miss your friends and your old life. It's ok. He's very understanding of my feelings, He always has been.
However, my heart is happy when I "run into" my grandchildren at lunch or in a store and they run up to me yelling--Grandma! It just feels right--as though that is how it should have been all along. Living close by, babysitting, watching their sports games, having an impromptu lunch or dinner, yes, all those things should have been happening all along, but, they didn't. There was an interruption of 5 years. 5 years, 5 long years of separation. And I do wonder why. I think about it quite a bit. Why? Why 5 years? Why did I have to miss so much? I need to stop thinking about those 5 years. I need to focus on the here and now, but I can't. Those 5 years felt right too, in some strange weird way, they felt right too. The people I met, friends I made and places that I discovered would have never taken place had I not moved away for 5 years. It's a conundrum for sure. It makes my brain hurt.
Being happy and sad at the very same time, being content and yet heartsick, being thankful and yet sometimes sorrowful, these feelings of mine keep me on the verge of tears. At a moments notice I can see, smell, or touch something that throws my mind backward into time and before I know it, I have tears dripping down my cheeks.
There is nothing I can do, not really. I am trying hard to just roll with it. I am settling into this new little house and making it my own. I am making plans with my children and I am enjoying meeting up with old friends. Yes, this just feels right. Sometimes lately, I forget that I ever moved away, and sometimes, I remember--all at once. And then it's hard again.
As I sit here typing away on my laptop, I am wondering--how do I feel right now, this very minute--how do I feel? I feel good, I am happy, I am content and thankful, joyful and grateful. Yes, this just feels right. To have known and loved people from coast to coast, how could that not feel right?
So, my prayer today is one of appreciation. I truly appreciate all that God had done for me, through me and in me. Yes, this feels right. I am home.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Weddings and Miracles
Yes, I've seen them, I've seen them both. Lots of weddings, and yes, even lots of miracles. Not everyone can say that, at least the miracle part. I can though. As I've written before, I saw a miracle just last November. A huge miracle, a miracle that not one person can argue with. A fantastic God-sized miracle. And the other night, I witnessed that miracle getting married.
Aside from my own wedding, and those of my children, I think this was the most beautiful wedding I have ever attended. The atmosphere of this particular wedding was different from most.
There was something going on, not an electricity, not an expectancy, something very different. Maybe it was a relief. I shall have to ponder this as I write. Maybe by the time I'm done, I'll have it figured out.
A few weeks before the wedding I received a phone call from the bride and was asked if I would do the scripture reading. I was stunned. And honored. And felt completely inadequate. Who was I to be asked to read at this most awesome occasion? I stammered a little over the phone and then, of course, said yes. I remember praying hard after that. I surely did not want to ruin her wedding in any way. And if you know me at all, you know I am not the most coordinated person in the world. Oh no, not me. I am clumsy to a fault. So, pray I did. I asked God for 2 things (that I remember anyway) 1) that I would not cry as I read, and 2) that I would not trip. Neither happened, He heard my prayers.
This wedding took place in a very beautiful vineyard, out in the open, with the bride and groom under an arbor made of driftwood like branches. Flowers and ribbon were intertwined, and it in its simplicity reminded me of the couple. As I walked up to take some photos (I was also asked to snap a few landscape pics) I thought of Jacki and Chris--a simple love made so complex by their story of Jacki's miraculous healing. That's what I thought of as I looked at those branches--their lived were braced together by God, so much more than most young couples getting married. Why? Because they had survived the unimaginable--they almost lost each other and had not that miracle occurred, Chris would be alone. And Jacki would be with God. Yes, I believe that Arbor was significant in many ways--at least to me.
The wedding reception took place under a beautiful white tent, decorated with gorgeous flowers that I could not stop taking pictures of--the tables were laden with them. Friends and family sat talking, smiling, and I'm sure thinking about what could have been. Had not the miracle taken place. I was. I was thinking about it all night. As I saw the looks being passed back and forth between bride and groom, friend to friend, parent to parent...I think we were all thinking about it--all except the bride. For she had no recollection of it at all. She (fortunately) does not remember a thing. She doesn't remember her parent's forlorn faces and tears. She doesn't remember all those who prayed night after night that God would intervene. She does, however, remember the miracle and the look of praise and thankfulness on the faces of all those who love her. She saw it the night of her wedding. We could not hide it. Our faces reflected God's miracle. How could they not, she was standing right before us.
As I got up to read scripture that night, I said that I was never surprised by anything that God does, but that I was always amazed. Yes, we serve an awesome and amazing God. He never surprises me, because He always does what He says He will do, but He does amaze me, oh yes He does.
You see, last weekend I went to a wedding. And I saw a miracle. And I was amazed. That's the word I was looking for, a feeling of amazement.
Beautiful banquet tables...
Pastor Jim and the gorgeous arbor...
Couldn't get enough of the flowers...
The vineyard view was so pretty...
A makeup refresh for the bride...
Sisters...
A very happy and thankful groom...
Wedding dance...
The happy couple...
A bride and her maids...
The wonderful sunset over the vineyard said it all--the heavens declare the glories of the Lord.
Aside from my own wedding, and those of my children, I think this was the most beautiful wedding I have ever attended. The atmosphere of this particular wedding was different from most.
There was something going on, not an electricity, not an expectancy, something very different. Maybe it was a relief. I shall have to ponder this as I write. Maybe by the time I'm done, I'll have it figured out.
A few weeks before the wedding I received a phone call from the bride and was asked if I would do the scripture reading. I was stunned. And honored. And felt completely inadequate. Who was I to be asked to read at this most awesome occasion? I stammered a little over the phone and then, of course, said yes. I remember praying hard after that. I surely did not want to ruin her wedding in any way. And if you know me at all, you know I am not the most coordinated person in the world. Oh no, not me. I am clumsy to a fault. So, pray I did. I asked God for 2 things (that I remember anyway) 1) that I would not cry as I read, and 2) that I would not trip. Neither happened, He heard my prayers.
This wedding took place in a very beautiful vineyard, out in the open, with the bride and groom under an arbor made of driftwood like branches. Flowers and ribbon were intertwined, and it in its simplicity reminded me of the couple. As I walked up to take some photos (I was also asked to snap a few landscape pics) I thought of Jacki and Chris--a simple love made so complex by their story of Jacki's miraculous healing. That's what I thought of as I looked at those branches--their lived were braced together by God, so much more than most young couples getting married. Why? Because they had survived the unimaginable--they almost lost each other and had not that miracle occurred, Chris would be alone. And Jacki would be with God. Yes, I believe that Arbor was significant in many ways--at least to me.
The wedding reception took place under a beautiful white tent, decorated with gorgeous flowers that I could not stop taking pictures of--the tables were laden with them. Friends and family sat talking, smiling, and I'm sure thinking about what could have been. Had not the miracle taken place. I was. I was thinking about it all night. As I saw the looks being passed back and forth between bride and groom, friend to friend, parent to parent...I think we were all thinking about it--all except the bride. For she had no recollection of it at all. She (fortunately) does not remember a thing. She doesn't remember her parent's forlorn faces and tears. She doesn't remember all those who prayed night after night that God would intervene. She does, however, remember the miracle and the look of praise and thankfulness on the faces of all those who love her. She saw it the night of her wedding. We could not hide it. Our faces reflected God's miracle. How could they not, she was standing right before us.
As I got up to read scripture that night, I said that I was never surprised by anything that God does, but that I was always amazed. Yes, we serve an awesome and amazing God. He never surprises me, because He always does what He says He will do, but He does amaze me, oh yes He does.
You see, last weekend I went to a wedding. And I saw a miracle. And I was amazed. That's the word I was looking for, a feeling of amazement.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
Hello New House
Dear New House,
I've decided to try and like you. No, you won't measure up (for probably some years) to my old house. After all, it took almost 5 years for that house to measure up, so you should at least give yourself that long--to measure up. Try not to get your feelings hurt. I did say I'd try, and I am a person of my word.
So far the thing I like about you is your size. It's also the thing I don't like about you. On one hand, you are easy to get around in and clean, on the other hand, you lack storage. However, my goal was to downsize and downsize I did. After selling and giving away almost half of my possessions, I am desperately trying to "fit" into your space. You are making it hard.
I also like the fact that lawn care and snow removal are included in my home owners dues, along with many more features than I had before. That's a positive for you, you should take that and run with it. It's a pretty big deal. With your indoor/outdoor pools, tennis courts, gym (not that I'll use it) fishing pond, playground and hiking trails, well, you've earned major points. Also, being backed up to a national forest is a big plus. But, please remember, I used to have a river, a beach and a very cute downtown.
All in all, I'm trying hard to like you. I've painted your laundry room and half bath, I've unpacked the majority of my personal items, and now I guess it's up to me to make friends in this new neighborhood. Maybe in time, they will be just as important to me as my old friends, I highly doubt that though. You haven't met my old friends, they are and always will be--amazing.
I will walk your streets, hike your trails, enjoy your waterfalls and take loads of pictures. I will present myself as friendly (I can't help that, it's who I am) and I will decorate my little heart out to make you feel warm, inviting and comfy. Paint, flowers, hearth and home--that's my motto for you.
I promise to cozy you up and to offer coffee to all who enter. It's your job, however, to make them feel welcome. To wrap your little arms around them (that's what my old house did) and to make them feel special. That's very important to me--hospitality. If you can do that we will eventually have a great relationship. I'm not saying that every once in awhile I won't get a little peeved with you, because you know I will, I'm just saying that if you do things my way, we'll get along just fine. In time. Time is important. Give me time to grieve the loss of my old house and my old friends. If you can do that--we are in business.
In closing, new house--I'm going to give this move my best shot. If you can do the same, we will become great friends. Deal?
Your new owner...
I've decided to try and like you. No, you won't measure up (for probably some years) to my old house. After all, it took almost 5 years for that house to measure up, so you should at least give yourself that long--to measure up. Try not to get your feelings hurt. I did say I'd try, and I am a person of my word.
So far the thing I like about you is your size. It's also the thing I don't like about you. On one hand, you are easy to get around in and clean, on the other hand, you lack storage. However, my goal was to downsize and downsize I did. After selling and giving away almost half of my possessions, I am desperately trying to "fit" into your space. You are making it hard.
I also like the fact that lawn care and snow removal are included in my home owners dues, along with many more features than I had before. That's a positive for you, you should take that and run with it. It's a pretty big deal. With your indoor/outdoor pools, tennis courts, gym (not that I'll use it) fishing pond, playground and hiking trails, well, you've earned major points. Also, being backed up to a national forest is a big plus. But, please remember, I used to have a river, a beach and a very cute downtown.
All in all, I'm trying hard to like you. I've painted your laundry room and half bath, I've unpacked the majority of my personal items, and now I guess it's up to me to make friends in this new neighborhood. Maybe in time, they will be just as important to me as my old friends, I highly doubt that though. You haven't met my old friends, they are and always will be--amazing.
I will walk your streets, hike your trails, enjoy your waterfalls and take loads of pictures. I will present myself as friendly (I can't help that, it's who I am) and I will decorate my little heart out to make you feel warm, inviting and comfy. Paint, flowers, hearth and home--that's my motto for you.
I promise to cozy you up and to offer coffee to all who enter. It's your job, however, to make them feel welcome. To wrap your little arms around them (that's what my old house did) and to make them feel special. That's very important to me--hospitality. If you can do that we will eventually have a great relationship. I'm not saying that every once in awhile I won't get a little peeved with you, because you know I will, I'm just saying that if you do things my way, we'll get along just fine. In time. Time is important. Give me time to grieve the loss of my old house and my old friends. If you can do that--we are in business.
In closing, new house--I'm going to give this move my best shot. If you can do the same, we will become great friends. Deal?
Your new owner...
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Goodbye House
It's funny, I knew when I moved in, I wouldn't live there long. I had the feeling all along that my time there would be 3 to 5 years, tops. At least that's what I thought, that's what I told myself to keep from getting so sad. You see, I had to move away from my kids and grandkids for a time. And it was pure torture. I hated it. I cried. I prayed. I begged God to let me move back. And I knew that eventually, I would move back--however, it just wasn't happening fast enough for me. At least I thought that way 3 years ago. And then something happened to me at a women's conference called Triennial. God got ahold of me, (that's what I like to call it) and He did a major attitude adjustment on my heart and all was well with the world--for the last couple of years.
And then it happened. We sold our house.
I didn't really like my house at first. For one thing, it wasn't a 1928 Tudor-like my old house. It was smaller and newer, and it wasn't in the right town! So, I held things against it. I blamed it for a lot of stuff. I'd mutter under my breath--you know, whiney stuff, complaining stuff, silly stuff. I didn't even realize then that I was dealing with an ungrateful heart. Nope, it was all about me back then.
After my little attitude adjustment though, God began to show me some things. Little things. Things to be grateful for. Like for example--when I'd have friends over, and I would gaze around the room and see their faces, I would feel such a deep love for these friends of mine. Sitting there in my little house, all cozy, an appreciation would surge through me, and it would almost bring me to tears.
Or when a neighbor would drop by for coffee, we'd sit and visit and I'd think to myself--I just love my neighbors, and again, I'd almost be brought to tears. I remembered all the Christmas parties, and summer patio parties, and BBQ's and I would get all nostalgic. Yes, I did have some wonderful times in that little house. I had just forgotten. Silly me.
And then it happened. We sold our house.
A few days ago, we drove away for the last time. My husband and I each in our separate cars, suitcases in the back, dog tucked it, moving van loaded--we drove away, and I had to say goodbye to my house. And I did. I literally said out loud, goodbye house. And then I cried. Some of those tears were happy ones, full of awesome memories, and some were sad ones because I didn't realize what a great little house it had been to me until the last couple of years. Pulling away, I asked God to forgive me. And I thanked Him for all those wonderful times in that sweet little house on the river, in the most beautiful little town that I had ever lived in, with some of the most loving friends and neighbors that I had ever known.
Yes, I said out loud (so that my house could hear) goodbye house, and thank you for taking such good care of me.
And then it happened. We sold our house.
I didn't really like my house at first. For one thing, it wasn't a 1928 Tudor-like my old house. It was smaller and newer, and it wasn't in the right town! So, I held things against it. I blamed it for a lot of stuff. I'd mutter under my breath--you know, whiney stuff, complaining stuff, silly stuff. I didn't even realize then that I was dealing with an ungrateful heart. Nope, it was all about me back then.
After my little attitude adjustment though, God began to show me some things. Little things. Things to be grateful for. Like for example--when I'd have friends over, and I would gaze around the room and see their faces, I would feel such a deep love for these friends of mine. Sitting there in my little house, all cozy, an appreciation would surge through me, and it would almost bring me to tears.
Or when a neighbor would drop by for coffee, we'd sit and visit and I'd think to myself--I just love my neighbors, and again, I'd almost be brought to tears. I remembered all the Christmas parties, and summer patio parties, and BBQ's and I would get all nostalgic. Yes, I did have some wonderful times in that little house. I had just forgotten. Silly me.
And then it happened. We sold our house.
A few days ago, we drove away for the last time. My husband and I each in our separate cars, suitcases in the back, dog tucked it, moving van loaded--we drove away, and I had to say goodbye to my house. And I did. I literally said out loud, goodbye house. And then I cried. Some of those tears were happy ones, full of awesome memories, and some were sad ones because I didn't realize what a great little house it had been to me until the last couple of years. Pulling away, I asked God to forgive me. And I thanked Him for all those wonderful times in that sweet little house on the river, in the most beautiful little town that I had ever lived in, with some of the most loving friends and neighbors that I had ever known.
Yes, I said out loud (so that my house could hear) goodbye house, and thank you for taking such good care of me.
Friday, July 17, 2015
A Piece of Me
I read an interesting quote a few days ago, and in my opinion, it was true insight into whom I have become over the last 5 years, it read;
"You get a strange feeling when you leave a place like you'll not only miss the people you love, but you miss the person you are at this time and place because you'll never be this way ever again"
Azar Nafasi
Without even realizing it, I have changed. I have grown. It's one thing to acknowledge that throughout our lives as we mature. However, it's quite another to believe it, at least it is that way for me.
So, to break down this quote, to simplify it and absorb it, I guess I need to analyze my feelings and emotions and thoughts. One by one, line by line--for yes, it has moved me that much.
I do get a strange feeling when I leave a place. I wonder if I'll be remembered and if I'll be missed? I wonder if I've done all that God had intended me to do? Or have I missed the mark? Did I bail too quickly? Did I pray hard enough, long enough? Was I kind, loving, forgiving? Or is that strange feeling sometimes upon leaving--one of regret, guilt, and shame? These are the things I've pondered of late. Have I accomplished anything at all during my time in that "place?"
Will I miss the people that I have grown to love? Yes, I truly will. For in just 5 short years in Chicagoland, I chose to love people--to open myself up to them. I was vulnerable, open, and defenseless to all manner of criticisms as well as compliments, etc. And yet, I believe that over time they loved me back. They became my friends. They grew to understand, accept and love me too. We, in a sense, became like family. I will miss these family members more than I could ever express in words. Do they know that? Can they feel that? Do they hear me when I tell them my truth?
I want these friends of mine to understand how much my knowing them has changed my life. I have become better, different, more loving and caring. I have "grown up" because of them. I have changed. Yes, even at my ripe old age--I have matured in a more significant way that I have in the past. Or maybe it's just that I recognize it more. Maybe that's it.
Yes, I will miss the person whom I have become because of them. I like me better now. I am more comfortable with myself. Why? I think it's because they accepted me for who I am. With all my quirks, and weirdnesses--they liked me anyway. Which in turn, made me like me--just a little bit better. Since knowing these friends, I have also accepted myself--and believe me that is huge. Huge! For I am the hardest person to please and accept--when it comes to me. I am hard on me. I don't measure up, I never have. Self-confidence is not my strong suit. I do however have confidence in my God, and sometimes people tend to get those two mixed up.
So this place in time, this road in my life, will never be traveled upon again. And maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I've gleaned all that I can from "this place", maybe I've done all that I could do, said all that I could say and prayed all that I could pray. I guess--it's done.
I will leave a piece of me here. And I will take a piece of all of you with me. Forever. No one can ever take it away. No one can ever replace you. No one can ever change me back. For you have been left with a piece of me. And I think, no, I believe that that is exactly how God intended it to be.
Thank you, my friends, for taking such good care of me. I'll miss you forever.
"You get a strange feeling when you leave a place like you'll not only miss the people you love, but you miss the person you are at this time and place because you'll never be this way ever again"
Azar Nafasi
Without even realizing it, I have changed. I have grown. It's one thing to acknowledge that throughout our lives as we mature. However, it's quite another to believe it, at least it is that way for me.
So, to break down this quote, to simplify it and absorb it, I guess I need to analyze my feelings and emotions and thoughts. One by one, line by line--for yes, it has moved me that much.
I do get a strange feeling when I leave a place. I wonder if I'll be remembered and if I'll be missed? I wonder if I've done all that God had intended me to do? Or have I missed the mark? Did I bail too quickly? Did I pray hard enough, long enough? Was I kind, loving, forgiving? Or is that strange feeling sometimes upon leaving--one of regret, guilt, and shame? These are the things I've pondered of late. Have I accomplished anything at all during my time in that "place?"
Will I miss the people that I have grown to love? Yes, I truly will. For in just 5 short years in Chicagoland, I chose to love people--to open myself up to them. I was vulnerable, open, and defenseless to all manner of criticisms as well as compliments, etc. And yet, I believe that over time they loved me back. They became my friends. They grew to understand, accept and love me too. We, in a sense, became like family. I will miss these family members more than I could ever express in words. Do they know that? Can they feel that? Do they hear me when I tell them my truth?
I want these friends of mine to understand how much my knowing them has changed my life. I have become better, different, more loving and caring. I have "grown up" because of them. I have changed. Yes, even at my ripe old age--I have matured in a more significant way that I have in the past. Or maybe it's just that I recognize it more. Maybe that's it.
Yes, I will miss the person whom I have become because of them. I like me better now. I am more comfortable with myself. Why? I think it's because they accepted me for who I am. With all my quirks, and weirdnesses--they liked me anyway. Which in turn, made me like me--just a little bit better. Since knowing these friends, I have also accepted myself--and believe me that is huge. Huge! For I am the hardest person to please and accept--when it comes to me. I am hard on me. I don't measure up, I never have. Self-confidence is not my strong suit. I do however have confidence in my God, and sometimes people tend to get those two mixed up.
So this place in time, this road in my life, will never be traveled upon again. And maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I've gleaned all that I can from "this place", maybe I've done all that I could do, said all that I could say and prayed all that I could pray. I guess--it's done.
I will leave a piece of me here. And I will take a piece of all of you with me. Forever. No one can ever take it away. No one can ever replace you. No one can ever change me back. For you have been left with a piece of me. And I think, no, I believe that that is exactly how God intended it to be.
Thank you, my friends, for taking such good care of me. I'll miss you forever.
Monday, July 13, 2015
Week of Lasts
This week is my week of lasts...last week to, fill in the blank. Last week to have lunch with a friend, or go to dinner with a neighbor. It's my last book club, my last get together with my Bible study small group friends. And it's my last Sunday at our church. Yes, it's my week of lasts. I will never again walk this same path again, it is the last. The end. And that makes me sad.
It has me waxing nostalgic. I am reminded constantly of other times, past times, my memories are flooding through my head at warp speed. Almost to the point of being unable to stop them. 5 years of a mountain full of wonderful memories of awesome friends in a remarkable town.
Between the town, our church, our neighbors, and friends--between Chicago and outlying suburbs--I believe that we have been blessed abundantly. It's overwhelming. For it is my last week to--cook in my little one butt kitchen, sit and look at my river, walk through my neighborhood, walk the river walk, eat at my favorite restaurants, read in my living room, use my famous coffee bar, Friday morning coffee with friends, neighborhood parties, and oh so much more. Yes, it is a week of lasts. I am so very thankful for all I have been blessed with, all those I've met, all that I have experienced while living here. I shudder to think of what I would have missed out on had I not moved here 5 years ago.
It's funny though, I remember moving here 5 years ago, kicking and screaming (OK, really just crying and pouting) I hated what was happening to me. I was being torn from my family and friends--moving to parts unknown and I was desperately heartbroken. And here I am again. Almost (but not quite) in the same position. And although this time I am not kicking and screaming, I sure am crying. My heart sure is breaking. I hate to leave my little life here. I have grown to not only love my friends, but I have grown to love my little town. And now, I have to say goodbye. I have to leave...again!
So yes, this is my week of lasts. One of the saddest weeks of my life. I hate goodbyes. I hate leaving. I hate this week of lasts. I really do.
It has me waxing nostalgic. I am reminded constantly of other times, past times, my memories are flooding through my head at warp speed. Almost to the point of being unable to stop them. 5 years of a mountain full of wonderful memories of awesome friends in a remarkable town.
Between the town, our church, our neighbors, and friends--between Chicago and outlying suburbs--I believe that we have been blessed abundantly. It's overwhelming. For it is my last week to--cook in my little one butt kitchen, sit and look at my river, walk through my neighborhood, walk the river walk, eat at my favorite restaurants, read in my living room, use my famous coffee bar, Friday morning coffee with friends, neighborhood parties, and oh so much more. Yes, it is a week of lasts. I am so very thankful for all I have been blessed with, all those I've met, all that I have experienced while living here. I shudder to think of what I would have missed out on had I not moved here 5 years ago.
It's funny though, I remember moving here 5 years ago, kicking and screaming (OK, really just crying and pouting) I hated what was happening to me. I was being torn from my family and friends--moving to parts unknown and I was desperately heartbroken. And here I am again. Almost (but not quite) in the same position. And although this time I am not kicking and screaming, I sure am crying. My heart sure is breaking. I hate to leave my little life here. I have grown to not only love my friends, but I have grown to love my little town. And now, I have to say goodbye. I have to leave...again!
So yes, this is my week of lasts. One of the saddest weeks of my life. I hate goodbyes. I hate leaving. I hate this week of lasts. I really do.
Friday, June 19, 2015
Betwixt and Between
I was at a horse show once and heard the name of a horse being called--Betwixt and Between and that's kind of how I feel right now. Or Bittersweet—that might be another name for what I am going through emotionally, although I don't believe I've heard that particular name for a horse before.
As I write this, I am praying--for this is a very hard blog to write. How do I explain how I feel about an issue when I'm not sure of my feelings, for they are running at full speed and I am not in control of them, not even a little.
So this is what is going on in our lives right now—it happened just a few weeks ago—while my husband and I were out for a stroll on the Riverwalk. We were talking about what it would be like if we moved back to Cleveland after he retired--the good, the bad, etc. As we were talking/walking along, our neighbor/realtor/friend came walking by and we stopped to chit chat. Out of the clear blue, he said to her--what do you think we could get for our house if we put it on the market?
When he said that, I began praying because I was not ready emotionally to even go there! Why I wondered was he saying these things to her? And then God dropped a number into my heart. When I said the price to them--they both chuckled and said that we would never get that price. So I said that I will wait then to sell my house--until I could get that price. I can be just as stubborn as the best of them--hard to believe, I know. Besides, we weren't even ready to sell right now anyway! They both laughed then and said I would be waiting a long time to sell and get my price.
However, then she said that she did have someone in mind that she had heard was looking for a house like ours on the river, close to downtown. She said she would call their realtor and see if they were interested. And I said to her--as long as they're willing to pay us our price they can look at it. But it was not up for negotiation.
Well, they came and looked at the house, and made us an offer, all-cash. So, after some up and downs and all around, we accepted their offer. Our house is now in escrow. The home inspection was a couple of weeks ago. It closes the end of July. What???
I needed some time before we could even begin to look at future homes. And as we were in California for 8 days, and then on to Cleveland for a huge bike ride event for my husband and oldest son in mid-June for a few days, it bought me time to assimilate all that was transpiring in my life. So the day after their bike ride we met with a local realtor in the Cleveland area and we looked at homes for one afternoon and found a couple that we really liked. That quickly! In one afternoon! What???
That my friends is how God works! I have learned that He is always at work around me. And it looks as though our time here in Naperville will be coming to a close. We now have to adjust our lives to fit in with what God has planned for us. And that is why I am “in between” feelings. Our friends here have become like family, we truly love them so much.
I don't want to leave, I don't want to move away from the best little town I've ever lived in. And we will miss being so close to Chicago. And besides all that, we have made some of the absolute best lifelong friends here in Chicagoland. We never saw that coming!
I don't want to leave, I don't want to move away from the best little town I've ever lived in. And we will miss being so close to Chicago. And besides all that, we have made some of the absolute best lifelong friends here in Chicagoland. We never saw that coming!
However, in saying all that, we are so excited to be moving back towards our family. But at the very same time, we are so going to miss our awesome friends here in Naperville.
So, we will need a lot of prayers! Our hearts are breaking, while at the same time rejoicing. God has a plan. I don't have a clue as to what He is going to do with us or what is ahead as far as ministry, new friends, new church, etc, but He knows. He already has our next little house picked out, He is getting our new church ready for us (pray for them, we aren't an easy couple to deal with) and He is already directing our steps and guiding our path. We are thankful. But we will miss everyone here in our sweet little town.
I guess if there is one thing I would ask--that you please pray for me, as change like this is hard on me. I've never been allowed to put down roots. So, when I am pulled up out of my comfortable homey warm fuzzy spot—well, let's just say this—it's super hard. I have been crying a lot, missing everyone and everything and I am hoping that I can get through this without a total meltdown.
I find that I am not thinking of this move as the next chapter in my life but rather a brand new book. I shall think of this book as perhaps one of the last I live through. Much to ponder, to wrap my brain around, to analyze and then, in the end, to trust the God in whom I love and serve with my whole heart.
Thursday, May 14, 2015
300 and Counting
It dawned on me a couple of days ago that when I publish this, I will have written 300 blogs. It's a little hard to wrap my brain around--300! I honestly didn't ever see that happening. I barely got the first one published and even that took almost 3 years. I didn't think I had anything to say. Ha, fooled everyone, including myself!
In looking back over my posts, I see that I have written about everything from my relationship with God to recipes, from my travels to my grandchildren. I've written about my thoughts, emotions, and prayers. I have shared just about everything--even my dreams and desires. Yes, I think I've covered it all...and yet, I believe that there is so much more.
I have learned a lot about myself throughout this experience. I've learned that I am in love with Jesus, that I am exceptionally sensitive and that I love others more deeply than I thought possible. I have been able to allow God to touch my life and then, in turn, He has used me to touch the lives of others. How do I know this? Well, I get a lot of emails, texts, and calls from strangers, friends, and family sharing their experiences concerning their own lives. I love hearing from others, I love that they are somehow "ministered to" by my blog. I use that term because that is exactly what is happening. And I think that is why I keep writing. Even when I think about shutting this whole blog thing down, I don't. I've tried before and then--I will feel compelled to write and I end up blogging again.
Maybe this has become an addiction of sorts. One thing for sure--it has become a form of therapy for me. A way to write about my feelings, and get out all those crazy mixed up thoughts that swirl around in my head like noodles. I can port them out on a page (and by page I mean laptop) and then examine them, I can try to sort them out, I can categorize them and lay them out in a somewhat organized fashion. At least I try to do that.
Yes, number 300 is about to be published. Scary to think about, and yet very exhilarating. I like writing. I like blogging. I like that you read them. I like that I feel encouraged to keep on doing this thing called blogging. Yes, I do.
In looking back over my posts, I see that I have written about everything from my relationship with God to recipes, from my travels to my grandchildren. I've written about my thoughts, emotions, and prayers. I have shared just about everything--even my dreams and desires. Yes, I think I've covered it all...and yet, I believe that there is so much more.
I have learned a lot about myself throughout this experience. I've learned that I am in love with Jesus, that I am exceptionally sensitive and that I love others more deeply than I thought possible. I have been able to allow God to touch my life and then, in turn, He has used me to touch the lives of others. How do I know this? Well, I get a lot of emails, texts, and calls from strangers, friends, and family sharing their experiences concerning their own lives. I love hearing from others, I love that they are somehow "ministered to" by my blog. I use that term because that is exactly what is happening. And I think that is why I keep writing. Even when I think about shutting this whole blog thing down, I don't. I've tried before and then--I will feel compelled to write and I end up blogging again.
Maybe this has become an addiction of sorts. One thing for sure--it has become a form of therapy for me. A way to write about my feelings, and get out all those crazy mixed up thoughts that swirl around in my head like noodles. I can port them out on a page (and by page I mean laptop) and then examine them, I can try to sort them out, I can categorize them and lay them out in a somewhat organized fashion. At least I try to do that.
Yes, number 300 is about to be published. Scary to think about, and yet very exhilarating. I like writing. I like blogging. I like that you read them. I like that I feel encouraged to keep on doing this thing called blogging. Yes, I do.
Monday, May 11, 2015
Dearest Jacki
I had the privilege this past weekend of attending your (probably one of many) bridal shower. I felt honored to be invited. I had so many mixed emotions while sitting with the others, hearing their stories of how they met you, of how long they'd known you and the extensive history between you and them. It was a little strange for me though. First off, just the fact that I was even invited--that was pretty awesome. And secondly, well, I haven't exactly known you all that long. I think I met you just a couple of times at your parent's house. And then that one evening last summer at your family's beach house, a random occurrence to be sure, but most likely one that was set up completely by God. And yet in just meeting you those few times--there was a spiritual tie that I believe will bind us together for eternity. That's what God does--He ties us to each other.
So, being at your wedding shower--observing and listening, I do what I sometimes do. I began to pray for you. As I watched your mom and your sister's faces--I thanked Him that they were happy and smiling. As I listened to the stories of many of the women--how they had watched you grow up, I was humbled and again thanked God for them. So much history, so much love.
At one point during the shower, we were asked to write on a little card, either a verse from the Bible or a piece of advice. It caught me a little off-guard. I'm the type that needs time to process my thoughts, to pray, to, well, to sound somewhat intelligent. I didn't get that time. I started to write down something that came to mind and ended up even writing on the back of the card. I got frustrated and gave up. I thought--this isn't going to make a lick of sense. So, I thought to myself--what should I do in this situation? I know! I'll blog about it. It probably won't make any more sense, but at least I'll have tried and that alone will make me feel better. I hope it makes sense to you though, I really do. Because it's something that someone once told me. A little piece of advice that changed the way I looked at my relationship with God and then inadvertently changed the way I lived my life. I'd like to share that with you.
The advice given to me goes something like this. Do not prioritize God. Do not make Him number one in your life. In fact, do not assign to Him a number at all. For He is God. He is everything. He doesn't come first--He is. He is I am. He is it...life. So, when your eyes open up in the morning, when your feet touch the ground, when you reach for that first cup of coffee, remember who He is and begin your day surrounded by His presence. When you do that--give Him every part of your life, every day of your life--He will dwell right there in the middle of it all. So, how can that be prioritized? It can't. Because He is. Everywhere. All the time. He is God. He is I am.
If I could leave you with one piece of advice it would be that. Don't make Him #1. Make Him it. After that--prioritize away. Make your lists, plan your plans, do your stuff. But, remember--He is there, right there in the middle of it all, leading you, guiding you, walking with you. He'll never leave you or forsake you. However, you now know that better than most of us ever will. You have experienced His healing touch in your life. Now walk in that.
That's my advice for you. If God is the end all be all in your life--you can face anything thrown your way. I will promise to pray for you all my life. Just as I did in that hospital room last fall, when I laid my hand on your shoulder and begged God to spare your life--I will always pray for you. I will always pray for your family--your parents, your siblings, your husband, your future. God has big plans for you. I know He does. Continue to walk as closely as you can with Him. Give Him everything--every part of your marriage, your life, and your future.
Love, Veda
So, being at your wedding shower--observing and listening, I do what I sometimes do. I began to pray for you. As I watched your mom and your sister's faces--I thanked Him that they were happy and smiling. As I listened to the stories of many of the women--how they had watched you grow up, I was humbled and again thanked God for them. So much history, so much love.
At one point during the shower, we were asked to write on a little card, either a verse from the Bible or a piece of advice. It caught me a little off-guard. I'm the type that needs time to process my thoughts, to pray, to, well, to sound somewhat intelligent. I didn't get that time. I started to write down something that came to mind and ended up even writing on the back of the card. I got frustrated and gave up. I thought--this isn't going to make a lick of sense. So, I thought to myself--what should I do in this situation? I know! I'll blog about it. It probably won't make any more sense, but at least I'll have tried and that alone will make me feel better. I hope it makes sense to you though, I really do. Because it's something that someone once told me. A little piece of advice that changed the way I looked at my relationship with God and then inadvertently changed the way I lived my life. I'd like to share that with you.
The advice given to me goes something like this. Do not prioritize God. Do not make Him number one in your life. In fact, do not assign to Him a number at all. For He is God. He is everything. He doesn't come first--He is. He is I am. He is it...life. So, when your eyes open up in the morning, when your feet touch the ground, when you reach for that first cup of coffee, remember who He is and begin your day surrounded by His presence. When you do that--give Him every part of your life, every day of your life--He will dwell right there in the middle of it all. So, how can that be prioritized? It can't. Because He is. Everywhere. All the time. He is God. He is I am.
If I could leave you with one piece of advice it would be that. Don't make Him #1. Make Him it. After that--prioritize away. Make your lists, plan your plans, do your stuff. But, remember--He is there, right there in the middle of it all, leading you, guiding you, walking with you. He'll never leave you or forsake you. However, you now know that better than most of us ever will. You have experienced His healing touch in your life. Now walk in that.
That's my advice for you. If God is the end all be all in your life--you can face anything thrown your way. I will promise to pray for you all my life. Just as I did in that hospital room last fall, when I laid my hand on your shoulder and begged God to spare your life--I will always pray for you. I will always pray for your family--your parents, your siblings, your husband, your future. God has big plans for you. I know He does. Continue to walk as closely as you can with Him. Give Him everything--every part of your marriage, your life, and your future.
Love, Veda
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Time of Life
I have been debating long and hard over writing this blog. Let alone posting it. For it is raw and kind of uncensored. I have not watered it down nor made it palatable. I've decided to leave it alone and let it sink in and brew. Yes, I need to think long and hard. I need to pray, and yet at the same time, I need to hold these thoughts in my hands and look at them.
This thought process began a few weeks ago while on a plane to Arizona. I have no idea what brought it about. There I was sitting in my seat, trying to read, trying to shut out the world, and my oh so many thoughts, when it hit me--it doesn't really matter to anyone where I am or where I am going.
And then yesterday my daughter-in-law posted this on Facebook--
So today, the day before her 6th birthday, she gets out of the car at school acting all grown up. As I'm giving her direction, she responds like a teenager, "yeah, I know mom", and closes the door while I'm mid sentence! Then as she's heading up the ramp she turns around and gives me this giant smile and little wave and I know right then, she will always be my little girl! And then I start sobbing!
I could not believe how this one observation by her lead right into the blog I was working on. It was as if she had read my mind. What I wanted to tell her is that this is just the beginning. This is where it all starts--that growing up period in the life of a child. It gets worse, so much worse. Those feelings as a parent of being (feeling) unneeded, not needed--however you chose to describe it, it has begun. I guess it's that time of life for me, the one that I knew would one day come, but somehow pretended it wouldn't apply to me--not really. No, it wasn't ever going to happen to me. My children and my grandchildren would always need me, always ask for my sage advice so chalked full of wisdom. And yet...not so much.
As my daughter-in-law caught a little glimpse of that yesterday while dropping her daughter off at school--I had already come to the realization that my time had already come and gone. That time of life where I am no longer needed. That time of life where they--as in my children--are perfectly capable of handling their own problems just fine by themselves. Unneeded--that's how I feel. Not put out to pasture necessarily, it's just that I am not needed. Calls unanswered, questions unasked, wisdom unneeded. They can do it all on their own now.
And isn't that what I wanted in the end? For them not to need me? For them to be completely independent? I thought so anyway. I really did. I wanted them to be self-sufficient. At least that's what I thought. I thought that's what I wanted. Didn't I?
However, maybe what I really wanted was the occasional phone call or text--just asking my opinion. After all, don't I have years upon years of experience? My face looks as if that is true. It surely does. My brain also, with its years of education, feels that way. Why isn't anyone asking me how what, or why? I have so much more to offer and yet...I am not called upon. In fact, I feel that sometimes I am placated. When did that happen?
I have noticed that during this time in my life, while so truly unneeded, that I must find a new way of living. One that says to itself--live for yourself now. Your children are grown. Live for yourself. And that's the hardest part for me. As I was growing up, in the beginning, I think I lived for my parents, then my husband, then my children, and now I wonder--whom shall I live for? I don't mean this in the religious or spiritual sense at all, I'm speaking strictly metaphorically. I am wondering, is now the time of life that I live for me?
My husband and I have been discussing this at length, our retirement is fast approaching, the time where we are wondering--where shall we live, whom shall we live near? We have so many questions, with so few answers. It seems you see, that we are not needed. Not anywhere. It's a very strange time in our lives. One full of confusion and uneasiness.
So herein lies our dilemma. Where is the next turn on this old road of ours? Where will it take us? As we ponder these questions--where will we go? What will we do? It is one of the scariest times of our lives. We now serve no purpose. Not to our children anyway. So, now we must look hard for the next "big thing" in this last stretch of our lives. I guess it's kind of like sliding into home plate--will I make it? Or will I be called out? I hate baseball, I really do.
This thought process began a few weeks ago while on a plane to Arizona. I have no idea what brought it about. There I was sitting in my seat, trying to read, trying to shut out the world, and my oh so many thoughts, when it hit me--it doesn't really matter to anyone where I am or where I am going.
And then yesterday my daughter-in-law posted this on Facebook--
So today, the day before her 6th birthday, she gets out of the car at school acting all grown up. As I'm giving her direction, she responds like a teenager, "yeah, I know mom", and closes the door while I'm mid sentence! Then as she's heading up the ramp she turns around and gives me this giant smile and little wave and I know right then, she will always be my little girl! And then I start sobbing!
I could not believe how this one observation by her lead right into the blog I was working on. It was as if she had read my mind. What I wanted to tell her is that this is just the beginning. This is where it all starts--that growing up period in the life of a child. It gets worse, so much worse. Those feelings as a parent of being (feeling) unneeded, not needed--however you chose to describe it, it has begun. I guess it's that time of life for me, the one that I knew would one day come, but somehow pretended it wouldn't apply to me--not really. No, it wasn't ever going to happen to me. My children and my grandchildren would always need me, always ask for my sage advice so chalked full of wisdom. And yet...not so much.
As my daughter-in-law caught a little glimpse of that yesterday while dropping her daughter off at school--I had already come to the realization that my time had already come and gone. That time of life where I am no longer needed. That time of life where they--as in my children--are perfectly capable of handling their own problems just fine by themselves. Unneeded--that's how I feel. Not put out to pasture necessarily, it's just that I am not needed. Calls unanswered, questions unasked, wisdom unneeded. They can do it all on their own now.
And isn't that what I wanted in the end? For them not to need me? For them to be completely independent? I thought so anyway. I really did. I wanted them to be self-sufficient. At least that's what I thought. I thought that's what I wanted. Didn't I?
However, maybe what I really wanted was the occasional phone call or text--just asking my opinion. After all, don't I have years upon years of experience? My face looks as if that is true. It surely does. My brain also, with its years of education, feels that way. Why isn't anyone asking me how what, or why? I have so much more to offer and yet...I am not called upon. In fact, I feel that sometimes I am placated. When did that happen?
I have noticed that during this time in my life, while so truly unneeded, that I must find a new way of living. One that says to itself--live for yourself now. Your children are grown. Live for yourself. And that's the hardest part for me. As I was growing up, in the beginning, I think I lived for my parents, then my husband, then my children, and now I wonder--whom shall I live for? I don't mean this in the religious or spiritual sense at all, I'm speaking strictly metaphorically. I am wondering, is now the time of life that I live for me?
My husband and I have been discussing this at length, our retirement is fast approaching, the time where we are wondering--where shall we live, whom shall we live near? We have so many questions, with so few answers. It seems you see, that we are not needed. Not anywhere. It's a very strange time in our lives. One full of confusion and uneasiness.
So herein lies our dilemma. Where is the next turn on this old road of ours? Where will it take us? As we ponder these questions--where will we go? What will we do? It is one of the scariest times of our lives. We now serve no purpose. Not to our children anyway. So, now we must look hard for the next "big thing" in this last stretch of our lives. I guess it's kind of like sliding into home plate--will I make it? Or will I be called out? I hate baseball, I really do.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
My Baby Dog
It's 3:00 am and I've just been awakened from a dream. As I lay there in bed thinking I feel God ask me to get up and write about it. It will be interesting for me to see where this leads. Somewhere deep down I hear Him speaking to me, so I guess I had better grapple with this now rather than later. It must be that important.
10 years ago I was on a quest. I had lost my previous beautiful, smart, awesome little Sheltie to cancer. Her death devastated me. I know. That's a very dramatic word when speaking about an animal. But, that's how I felt. I literally grieved her death. I loved that dog and really all others that came before her. I am a dog person, that's for sure. And so, the quest began to find a new puppy--I needed a dog, ASAP!
It started with me praying for the perfect puppy. I knew that I wanted another Sheltie, a sable, and a female. After finding just the right breeder, off we went to view the new litter. I was so excited, for by then I had gone a year without a dog--a long lonely horrible year. As we pulled into the driveway I felt my excitement begin to build. My new puppy is in there I thought, just waiting to meet me.
To put a lover of dogs in the middle of 2 litters of puppies (yes, I found out there were 2) is a dream come true. I sat on the ground with warm wriggly bodies dancing all about me. Licking, squirming, some even making little gurgling noises. It was awesome. And then there she was, the cutest little thing ever. I picked her up and she snuggled in, her little nose tucked itself right under my chin and she remained there for the duration of my visit.
In my heart and mind, she was the only puppy I wanted from that moment on. She was mine and I was hers. Period. It was a done deal. We belonged together. However, there was a problem. She had already been sold. Someone had come along that very morning and put a deposit on her. She belonged to someone else. Someone other than me.
Well, if you know me at all, little hiccups like that don't stop me. So, I did what I knew in my heart to do. I began to pray. I sat holding my puppy, while she kept her nose tucked under my chin and there we sat for the better part of an hour--holding each other, praying, waiting for God to begin our future together. I knew in my heart of hearts that I would not be leaving without her. I knew that she was mine. No matter what. She was my dog.
Something strange happened then. The breeder's adult daughter came driving up out of the blue and joined us. We all sat chit-chatting for a bit when she looked over at her mother (the dog breeder) and said bluntly--mom, that's her dog. You need to call the other buyers and explain the situation. I sat there stunned--not saying a word, just praying. And she did just that. She got up and called the other buyer and when she was off the phone, she looked at me and said--yep, she's your dog now. And our lives together began.
She chose me that day. When I bent down to pick her up, when I brought her up to my neck, when she snuggled under my chin--she chose me. It was an obvious choice, a match between a human and a dog. I'll never forget that morning, 10 years ago, when I was chosen by a Sheltie. To bring her home, to be her mom, to take care of her, to train her and teach her, love her and protect her, she was all mine. And I was all hers.
It's funny what dogs teach us, we usually have it all backward don't we?
I wonder sometimes if it was just that simple when God chose me.
10 years ago I was on a quest. I had lost my previous beautiful, smart, awesome little Sheltie to cancer. Her death devastated me. I know. That's a very dramatic word when speaking about an animal. But, that's how I felt. I literally grieved her death. I loved that dog and really all others that came before her. I am a dog person, that's for sure. And so, the quest began to find a new puppy--I needed a dog, ASAP!
It started with me praying for the perfect puppy. I knew that I wanted another Sheltie, a sable, and a female. After finding just the right breeder, off we went to view the new litter. I was so excited, for by then I had gone a year without a dog--a long lonely horrible year. As we pulled into the driveway I felt my excitement begin to build. My new puppy is in there I thought, just waiting to meet me.
To put a lover of dogs in the middle of 2 litters of puppies (yes, I found out there were 2) is a dream come true. I sat on the ground with warm wriggly bodies dancing all about me. Licking, squirming, some even making little gurgling noises. It was awesome. And then there she was, the cutest little thing ever. I picked her up and she snuggled in, her little nose tucked itself right under my chin and she remained there for the duration of my visit.
In my heart and mind, she was the only puppy I wanted from that moment on. She was mine and I was hers. Period. It was a done deal. We belonged together. However, there was a problem. She had already been sold. Someone had come along that very morning and put a deposit on her. She belonged to someone else. Someone other than me.
Well, if you know me at all, little hiccups like that don't stop me. So, I did what I knew in my heart to do. I began to pray. I sat holding my puppy, while she kept her nose tucked under my chin and there we sat for the better part of an hour--holding each other, praying, waiting for God to begin our future together. I knew in my heart of hearts that I would not be leaving without her. I knew that she was mine. No matter what. She was my dog.
Something strange happened then. The breeder's adult daughter came driving up out of the blue and joined us. We all sat chit-chatting for a bit when she looked over at her mother (the dog breeder) and said bluntly--mom, that's her dog. You need to call the other buyers and explain the situation. I sat there stunned--not saying a word, just praying. And she did just that. She got up and called the other buyer and when she was off the phone, she looked at me and said--yep, she's your dog now. And our lives together began.
She chose me that day. When I bent down to pick her up, when I brought her up to my neck, when she snuggled under my chin--she chose me. It was an obvious choice, a match between a human and a dog. I'll never forget that morning, 10 years ago, when I was chosen by a Sheltie. To bring her home, to be her mom, to take care of her, to train her and teach her, love her and protect her, she was all mine. And I was all hers.
It's funny what dogs teach us, we usually have it all backward don't we?
I wonder sometimes if it was just that simple when God chose me.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Who's the Sickest of Them All
Wow, I just looked at the date of my last blog. I feel like such a loser! I have not written in weeks. However, I must insert a disclaimer here...I have been sick. This winter I have caught every virus within 50 feet of my being. Seriously. It started with being hospitalized with the flu in December and has continued on with me catching a cold or flu bug about every other week.
In other words, I haven't felt like writing. My head has been too clogged to think straight or my stomach has been too roller coaster to sit up and type on a laptop. Ugg.
I have a feeling though (as I am coughing my head off) that things just might be turning around. And how do I know this? Well, it's how my brain works. I usually see my blogs forming in my brain--those wild and random thoughts--and I sit down and write about them shortly thereafter. With said maladies though, I still think those thoughts, but they vanish before I can write them down. They had become all muddled and crazy, and then poof, they were gone. Which left me with nothing to write about. Today though--cough, cough--I am actually forming thoughts and then writing about them. It's nothing short of a miracle! My brain is once again engaged.
It feels so good to be sharing again. To be conversing like a real adult and not like some whining child. Example--my head hurts, can I have a Kleenex, I'm hungry/thirsty, I need NyQuil/aspirin, etc. You know what I'm talking about. I sounded like a 6-year-old, and this went on for weeks. I was miserable. And now? Well, today I feel so much better, almost normal.
So be prepared, hopefully, I am on a roll again and will be blogging like crazy in the coming days and weeks. There's so much to say and now, I might just have the energy to say it. I hope!
In other words, I haven't felt like writing. My head has been too clogged to think straight or my stomach has been too roller coaster to sit up and type on a laptop. Ugg.
I have a feeling though (as I am coughing my head off) that things just might be turning around. And how do I know this? Well, it's how my brain works. I usually see my blogs forming in my brain--those wild and random thoughts--and I sit down and write about them shortly thereafter. With said maladies though, I still think those thoughts, but they vanish before I can write them down. They had become all muddled and crazy, and then poof, they were gone. Which left me with nothing to write about. Today though--cough, cough--I am actually forming thoughts and then writing about them. It's nothing short of a miracle! My brain is once again engaged.
It feels so good to be sharing again. To be conversing like a real adult and not like some whining child. Example--my head hurts, can I have a Kleenex, I'm hungry/thirsty, I need NyQuil/aspirin, etc. You know what I'm talking about. I sounded like a 6-year-old, and this went on for weeks. I was miserable. And now? Well, today I feel so much better, almost normal.
So be prepared, hopefully, I am on a roll again and will be blogging like crazy in the coming days and weeks. There's so much to say and now, I might just have the energy to say it. I hope!
Sunday, February 8, 2015
41
I wish I could claim that as my age, I really do. However, that would be a big fat lie. Nope, not my age at all. It is, in fact, my 41st wedding anniversary. And how that happened so very quickly--I do not know.
I am amazed and intrigued at the very same time. I am amazed at how quickly the years pass by for one and intrigued by the very idea that I could love someone so much as to stay with them for over 4 decades is another.
At first, I thought I would be pithy and make a list of 41 reasons why I love my husband. I threw out that idea. And then I thought about writing him an open love letter--too gushy. So I was stumped. What, oh what, do I say about this monumental task that we've both achieved?
Maybe that's it. Achievement. Because that's exactly what it is. Especially in this day and age. With divorce being the norm, and the advent of the starter wife/husband--to be married for 41 years is almost unheard of.
I honestly feel that I (we) have done something monumental. I (we) have stayed married. Not that it was hard--ok sometimes it was. I stayed married because I made a commitment. I promised him on our wedding day that I would stick it through--think, thin, sick or whatever, I'd be around for the long haul. And I have. But, so has he. Through child rearing, college going, empty nesting and all around menopausal Molly moods, he has stuck by my side--through it all. There's something to be said about that.
So without getting too mushy, and without sounding too puffed up, I'd just like to end this little blog with this--I am proud and I do get mushy (real mushy) when I think about my life over the past 41 years. I can't imagine any other life. It's been awesome, wonderful, fun, exciting and any other descriptive gushy adjective you can think of--yes, I've got it all. I'm happy, I'm content. I never think to myself--what if? Why? Because I know. I know with all my being that 41 years ago, I made the right choice. I married the one true love of my life. And I am glad I did. Yes, that my friends, is an accomplishment. It truly is.
I am amazed and intrigued at the very same time. I am amazed at how quickly the years pass by for one and intrigued by the very idea that I could love someone so much as to stay with them for over 4 decades is another.
At first, I thought I would be pithy and make a list of 41 reasons why I love my husband. I threw out that idea. And then I thought about writing him an open love letter--too gushy. So I was stumped. What, oh what, do I say about this monumental task that we've both achieved?
Maybe that's it. Achievement. Because that's exactly what it is. Especially in this day and age. With divorce being the norm, and the advent of the starter wife/husband--to be married for 41 years is almost unheard of.
I honestly feel that I (we) have done something monumental. I (we) have stayed married. Not that it was hard--ok sometimes it was. I stayed married because I made a commitment. I promised him on our wedding day that I would stick it through--think, thin, sick or whatever, I'd be around for the long haul. And I have. But, so has he. Through child rearing, college going, empty nesting and all around menopausal Molly moods, he has stuck by my side--through it all. There's something to be said about that.
So without getting too mushy, and without sounding too puffed up, I'd just like to end this little blog with this--I am proud and I do get mushy (real mushy) when I think about my life over the past 41 years. I can't imagine any other life. It's been awesome, wonderful, fun, exciting and any other descriptive gushy adjective you can think of--yes, I've got it all. I'm happy, I'm content. I never think to myself--what if? Why? Because I know. I know with all my being that 41 years ago, I made the right choice. I married the one true love of my life. And I am glad I did. Yes, that my friends, is an accomplishment. It truly is.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Remembering December
It happened again. Several days before Christmas while minding my own business, sitting comfortably in my chair at the nail salon, it happened again. I passed out.
I'll start at the beginning. I thought I had a cold, and for 2 days I suffered from all the normal cold maladies. I even went on the internet to compare cold and flu symptoms. And it confirmed--it's just a cold.
I had felt really lousy that morning while getting ready. I was going through the motions of makeup and hair, and then finally drove myself over to the nail salon. Christmas was just around the corner. We were to be heading off to DC to spend the holiday with my kids and grandkids. I had shopped and wrapped, decorated and baked--it had been a normal first half of the month. Little parties and get-togethers, with just a couple, left on the calendar before taking off. Now, if I could just get rid of the stupid cold I had been fighting.
I admit right here and now that I am a fru-fru girl. A girly girl. I like to have my hair done monthly and my nails done every 2 weeks. That's just me. So, to stay home and cancel my nail appointment right before Christmas (even though I felt sick) would never have even entered my mind. No, nails were in the forefront of my little brain. Fortunately, I had made it through the pedicure and was just finishing up with the manicure part when I began to feel funny. And by funny I mean--light headed, with a little tunnel vision thrown in. I remember thinking--I need to get out of here. And that was my last thought.
The next thing I knew my manicurist was patting my hands and arms trying to wake me up. She had called 911 and was trying to revive me. She then called my husband who came racing over, and he arrived at the same time the ambulance pulled up. I couldn't believe what was happening--not again! At least I had stayed in the chair, and I didn't hit my head and split it open. I'm always thinking of the positive.
I was unable to fully regain consciousness so I was hauled into the ambulance and away I went. Again! I knew the ropes by then--in the ER they would pump me full of fluids and send me home. Only that's not what happened. This time they admitted me and ran more test--and EKG and Echocardiogram were done. They found that I was severely dehydrated, low on potassium and magnesium, oh, and yes, I tested positive for the flu. Stupid internet.
I was seen by a cardiologist who wanted to run even more tests. Ugg, this was really cutting into my plans--that's really all I could think about. However, within a couple of days, I was back home. I was feeling better and on my way to my family. And although I was tired, still recovering from the flu and very low energy, we all had a great time. I'm wondering if my kids were secretly relieved that I wasn't up to my full energetic potential. I think I sometimes I run them ragged.
After the holidays were over I had more doctor appointments. More tests were run and I found out the left side of my heart isn't pumping quiet enough blood, so I was given a low dose med to help that along. It seems that with the vasovagal syncope my blood pressure would drop too low and coupled with the heart thing--well, it was lights out for me. Hopefully, now things will regulate within my system and all will be well.
So for now, I will obey doctor's orders, eat heart healthy, exercise and look forward to an ambulance free year.
That was my December and I will remember it fondly and choose to forget the yucky parts. Because that's just what I do.
I'll start at the beginning. I thought I had a cold, and for 2 days I suffered from all the normal cold maladies. I even went on the internet to compare cold and flu symptoms. And it confirmed--it's just a cold.
I had felt really lousy that morning while getting ready. I was going through the motions of makeup and hair, and then finally drove myself over to the nail salon. Christmas was just around the corner. We were to be heading off to DC to spend the holiday with my kids and grandkids. I had shopped and wrapped, decorated and baked--it had been a normal first half of the month. Little parties and get-togethers, with just a couple, left on the calendar before taking off. Now, if I could just get rid of the stupid cold I had been fighting.
I admit right here and now that I am a fru-fru girl. A girly girl. I like to have my hair done monthly and my nails done every 2 weeks. That's just me. So, to stay home and cancel my nail appointment right before Christmas (even though I felt sick) would never have even entered my mind. No, nails were in the forefront of my little brain. Fortunately, I had made it through the pedicure and was just finishing up with the manicure part when I began to feel funny. And by funny I mean--light headed, with a little tunnel vision thrown in. I remember thinking--I need to get out of here. And that was my last thought.
The next thing I knew my manicurist was patting my hands and arms trying to wake me up. She had called 911 and was trying to revive me. She then called my husband who came racing over, and he arrived at the same time the ambulance pulled up. I couldn't believe what was happening--not again! At least I had stayed in the chair, and I didn't hit my head and split it open. I'm always thinking of the positive.
I was unable to fully regain consciousness so I was hauled into the ambulance and away I went. Again! I knew the ropes by then--in the ER they would pump me full of fluids and send me home. Only that's not what happened. This time they admitted me and ran more test--and EKG and Echocardiogram were done. They found that I was severely dehydrated, low on potassium and magnesium, oh, and yes, I tested positive for the flu. Stupid internet.
I was seen by a cardiologist who wanted to run even more tests. Ugg, this was really cutting into my plans--that's really all I could think about. However, within a couple of days, I was back home. I was feeling better and on my way to my family. And although I was tired, still recovering from the flu and very low energy, we all had a great time. I'm wondering if my kids were secretly relieved that I wasn't up to my full energetic potential. I think I sometimes I run them ragged.
After the holidays were over I had more doctor appointments. More tests were run and I found out the left side of my heart isn't pumping quiet enough blood, so I was given a low dose med to help that along. It seems that with the vasovagal syncope my blood pressure would drop too low and coupled with the heart thing--well, it was lights out for me. Hopefully, now things will regulate within my system and all will be well.
So for now, I will obey doctor's orders, eat heart healthy, exercise and look forward to an ambulance free year.
That was my December and I will remember it fondly and choose to forget the yucky parts. Because that's just what I do.
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