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.

To be honest with you, everything hurts.  My heart hurts from breaking, my eyes hurt from crying.  It feels like this pain will never subside.  Oh, I know it will.  I have traveled down this path before.  I've lost dogs.  And I've loved them all, and with each one, I feel as though I have loved this one the most.

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.

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.

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.

Happy Birthday,
Jerry

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.