It was different this year. Our Thanksgiving. Instead of just having our kids over as guests for dinner, or our daughter and her family staying for a few days--something was different. This year we have a permanent "roomie". My mom now lives with us. So, things weren't the same. They were better.
I think it's important to note here, just for sake of conversation and as a point of information (or truth) that my mom was not a homemaker. She wasn't a cook, nor did she take much joy in cleaning, etc. She was a career woman. And I, on the other hand, went in the complete opposite direction. I became (in the words of my daughter) a Martha Stewart wannabe. I didn't know it at the time, in fact, I wasn't even aware of Martha when I got married and began taking care of my own home. I just knew that I loved cooking, cleaning, decorating, and being a mom.
I have found that holidays for me are like training for a marathon. I love everything about them. Planning, cooking, shopping, decorating--absolutely everything. Down to the last detail. And so, this past Thanksgiving was a little unusual. Our family changed once again. Where we once went from a couple to having children, to being empty nesters--we now have my mother living with us.
I'll be honest, it does change the dynamics of our home. However, I am one that believes that change is good. It's stretching. It's a time of growth. And also, a time of giving. Giving of my heart, my time, my needs, and yes, even my desires. I had to change Thanksgiving up a bit this year. And while it was important for me to keep it much the same for my kids and grandchildren, it was also important for me to incorporate my mom into the mix--without her feeling like an interloper. I desperately wanted her to feel a part of my little family. I knew that this year would be her first without my dad and that although they were never much for the holidays, I wanted her to experience "my kind" of Thanksgiving.
There's a trick to making people feel comfortable, wanted, special, and loved. I find that the best way for me to do this is to just put myself in their shoes. Walk their walk. So, I did my best. Our daughter and her family came for the week. They also brought their golden retriever, so that made for a very full house--5 adults, 2 teenagers, 3 dogs, and a partridge in a pear tree! I stuffed people everywhere. My husband's office became my daughter and son-in-law's bedroom, my loft became my grandkid's bedroom and the dogs just slept where there was enough floor space. We shared bathrooms, and living room chairs, and sofas. Oh, and we thanked God for 3 toilets. It's funny what you're thankful in these types of circumstances.
Yes, we were a little squished, but we loved it. Our sons came for Thanksgiving dinner with their families (thank you, God, they left their dogs at home) we colored placemats, played games and watched Elf. We made new memories and I loved every minute of it.
I know that this first year of holidays for my mom will be the hardest. I know that Christmas this year might be especially hard, but I also know that she's here with me and I will take good care of her. I've been keeping her busy, that's for sure. I've dragged her from mall to mall, and grocery store to grocery store. I've decorated for Christmas, baked my buns off and I've shown my dark side (my Martha side) to her. I've tried my hardest to make her holiday special. And to give her that welcome feeling, that this is now her home too!
Thanksgiving for her this year was probably very loud and noisy, too many people, and too much home cooked food. Too many littles, and too many dogs. However, I'll just bet you that she loved it, because it was a different kind of Thanksgiving for her, a different kind of thankfulness. It was that way for me. Different. Thankful.
I know that my dad is no longer with us. I know that she is sad and that she misses him with all her heart. But, I also know that she brings value to my life and to the lives of her grandchildren and now great grandchildren. So, while she's here on this earth, I'll be there for her. To teach her all my Martha stuff. To show her how crazy fun we all are. And most of all to demonstrate to her the feeling of pure thankfulness that I have. I love being able to have this special time with her--I sure hope she realizes this, and that she feels the same way. I hope that in the midst of her grief--she feels love, and thankfulness also.
It's different, I know. But, I'm still thankful.
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Monday, October 17, 2016
Living With Mom
One week ago my mom came to live with us. My husband and I flew to California on a Friday, spent Saturday packing up the rest of her belongings (those that she wanted to take with her) and bright and early Sunday morning we left for the airport. And, with her little Lhasa Apso we made the 3-hour drive to San Fransisco.
I'm not going to lie. I was worried. I kept thinking--if we can just drop off her dog at cargo, and get her seated on the plane--all will be well. Honestly, I was sweating bullets. I was secretly worried about every single aspect of our trip. In fact, I was not sure which area to worry over most, her or her dog. You see, he's a grumpy old man kind of dog. He growls and snaps and is a little bit scary. He's untrained and rules the roost. He's got my mom wrapped around his little paw and she knows it. And she doesn't care!
In order to fly that little dog though, she did have to comply with airline rules, and in spite of everything, she crate trained her dog (ok, she bribed him) and he did end up traveling quite well to the airport. Once we dropped him at the cargo center I will admit, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
And, now I just had to get my mom on the plane. What was going to be so hard about that, one might ask? Well, for starters, panic attacks, vertigo, heart palpitations, etc. And that was just on my part. Once I pulled myself together, ordered up the wheelchair, wrestled my mom over who got to ride in said wheelchair, off we went. I would like to take a minute right here and now to say that United Airlines gets some huge kudos for their awesome treatment of my mom during our airport to airplane experience. First off the employee who wheeled us luckily-split through the airport was awesome! We flew through security, everyone was exceptionally nice and then, we even had some time to spend in the United Club Lounge. My mom was able to kick back, relax and be treated like a queen before we boarded our 5-hour flight to Cleveland, Ohio.
Secondly, the experience on the plane actually brought tears to my eyes several times. It was interesting for me to watch my mom. She hadn't flown in years and never cross country. Her excitement was catching. She loved the flight. And our flight attendants? Well, they were pretty special. My mom had requested to sit as close to the restrooms as possible, so we did that for her. Which meant we were right by the galley. When the attendants heard her story, they couldn't do enough for her--or us. Free snack boxes and mixed drinks and sentiments like--we wish we could do more. They were thrilled for her--that she was moving to Ohio to live with us, that she was going to see her grandsons for the first time in 12 years, and that she was meeting 5 of her great grandchildren for the first time! Too much to take in--they were choked up too. I had the feeling that they really wanted to give my mom a hug goodbye as she left the plane.
It was late when we landed in Ohio. We were all exhausted. Jet lag set in, and for the first few days, it was a little stressful at our house. There were and still are some adjustments to be made. And that's OK.
It's going to take time. Time for her dog to settle into a routine, to eat normal dog food (and not people food) to share toys and chewies with my dog. It's going to take time for my mom to adjust to the weather here. Oh yes, that's going to be a barrel of fun. With heaters, down blankets, and even some warm jammies. It's going to take time to adjust to no more fast food, frozen food and glazed donuts for breakfast. It's going to take time. Getting used to living together, eating healthy foods, learning boundaries. As we settle in and learn the rhythm to this new life of ours, it's going to take time And that's OK.
So far, I think we've done remarkably well. Much better than I expected, and I have high hopes for the future. Already, her dog is settling in. Already, my mom is getting used to home cooked meals. Already, my mom is adjusting to a normal daily routine, where we get up and get ready and go have fun, even if it's just running errands or going for a joy ride in the convertible--life is good here in Ohio.
She's lonely though without my dad. She's lost her other half, her best friend. She doesn't look forward to the future, she'd rather it be over. However, I don't see it that way. Or else, it would be over. God would have taken her home too. He didn't though. And He has put me in charge of teaching her that. Teaching her that her life still has value. That we still want her here and that as long as she's alive, I'm going to do my best to make each and every day the most fun day ever. That's my job now. Living with mom.
Pray for us, our new roles, our new lives, and most of all pray for my mom. That in some small way, God heals her broken heart and that the remainder of her time here on this earth is happy--full of love, life, memories and most of all fun.
I'm not going to lie. I was worried. I kept thinking--if we can just drop off her dog at cargo, and get her seated on the plane--all will be well. Honestly, I was sweating bullets. I was secretly worried about every single aspect of our trip. In fact, I was not sure which area to worry over most, her or her dog. You see, he's a grumpy old man kind of dog. He growls and snaps and is a little bit scary. He's untrained and rules the roost. He's got my mom wrapped around his little paw and she knows it. And she doesn't care!
In order to fly that little dog though, she did have to comply with airline rules, and in spite of everything, she crate trained her dog (ok, she bribed him) and he did end up traveling quite well to the airport. Once we dropped him at the cargo center I will admit, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
And, now I just had to get my mom on the plane. What was going to be so hard about that, one might ask? Well, for starters, panic attacks, vertigo, heart palpitations, etc. And that was just on my part. Once I pulled myself together, ordered up the wheelchair, wrestled my mom over who got to ride in said wheelchair, off we went. I would like to take a minute right here and now to say that United Airlines gets some huge kudos for their awesome treatment of my mom during our airport to airplane experience. First off the employee who wheeled us luckily-split through the airport was awesome! We flew through security, everyone was exceptionally nice and then, we even had some time to spend in the United Club Lounge. My mom was able to kick back, relax and be treated like a queen before we boarded our 5-hour flight to Cleveland, Ohio.
Secondly, the experience on the plane actually brought tears to my eyes several times. It was interesting for me to watch my mom. She hadn't flown in years and never cross country. Her excitement was catching. She loved the flight. And our flight attendants? Well, they were pretty special. My mom had requested to sit as close to the restrooms as possible, so we did that for her. Which meant we were right by the galley. When the attendants heard her story, they couldn't do enough for her--or us. Free snack boxes and mixed drinks and sentiments like--we wish we could do more. They were thrilled for her--that she was moving to Ohio to live with us, that she was going to see her grandsons for the first time in 12 years, and that she was meeting 5 of her great grandchildren for the first time! Too much to take in--they were choked up too. I had the feeling that they really wanted to give my mom a hug goodbye as she left the plane.
It was late when we landed in Ohio. We were all exhausted. Jet lag set in, and for the first few days, it was a little stressful at our house. There were and still are some adjustments to be made. And that's OK.
It's going to take time. Time for her dog to settle into a routine, to eat normal dog food (and not people food) to share toys and chewies with my dog. It's going to take time for my mom to adjust to the weather here. Oh yes, that's going to be a barrel of fun. With heaters, down blankets, and even some warm jammies. It's going to take time to adjust to no more fast food, frozen food and glazed donuts for breakfast. It's going to take time. Getting used to living together, eating healthy foods, learning boundaries. As we settle in and learn the rhythm to this new life of ours, it's going to take time And that's OK.
So far, I think we've done remarkably well. Much better than I expected, and I have high hopes for the future. Already, her dog is settling in. Already, my mom is getting used to home cooked meals. Already, my mom is adjusting to a normal daily routine, where we get up and get ready and go have fun, even if it's just running errands or going for a joy ride in the convertible--life is good here in Ohio.
She's lonely though without my dad. She's lost her other half, her best friend. She doesn't look forward to the future, she'd rather it be over. However, I don't see it that way. Or else, it would be over. God would have taken her home too. He didn't though. And He has put me in charge of teaching her that. Teaching her that her life still has value. That we still want her here and that as long as she's alive, I'm going to do my best to make each and every day the most fun day ever. That's my job now. Living with mom.
Pray for us, our new roles, our new lives, and most of all pray for my mom. That in some small way, God heals her broken heart and that the remainder of her time here on this earth is happy--full of love, life, memories and most of all fun.
Friday, October 7, 2016
Swiss Time
It was supposed to be a means of transportation, just that. However, it was so much more. Our little Swiss rail passes ended up making this particular vacation one for the books. It will be remembered as one of the best trips we've gone on. All because of that little pass, it paved the way to 2 weeks of excursions and more. All the trains, busses, trams, and metros we could possibly ride were free, or I should say, were included in our rail pass. Talk about fun! Who knew! No high car rental fees, no parking issues, no traffic! Just sit back, enjoy the scenery and relax.
We started in Zurich and stayed for 4 days. We walked approximately 8-10 miles per day during the entirety of our trip, so that along with rail travel shows just how busy we really were. I must admit that for the first 2-3 days in Zurich I was pretty jet lagged. There are parts of that portion of our trip that are very foggy in my brain. Which is why I am very glad that I took so many pictures. As I look through them my memories slowly are returning. I liked our hotel, however, even though I tried hard to get close to the train stations, sometimes we were a little further than we thought. Hauling big 50 lb rolling duffles across old paving stones isn't my idea of fun. Especially after being up for 24 hours and trying hard not to snarl and snap at anyone who got in my way!
We finally rolled in though, checked into our hotel, unpacked and took showers. We then set off on foot and hit the old city. My favorite part. Anything old with great architecture is my idea of a wonderful adventure. Switzerland is abundant when it comes to beautiful buildings, castles, and churches. One of the things I love most while traveling is finding flea markets or even farmers markets. I love walking through the stalls, looking at homemade jams, honey, fruit, and vegetables. It's even better when there are antiques and vintage items. As we were walking to our first boat ride on Lake Zurich we found a great farmers market right on the lake and met some really nice people. One vendor gave me a tote bag--he explained that his son-in-law was American and he wanted me to have the bag. We stood and talked for awhile and then headed off to the boat dock. We took hundreds of pictures, as we both took our big SLRs. The words "breathtaking" comes to mind. Sailing in front of village after village, castle after castle. One thing I loved was that the boats and trains were clean. They had snack bars and bathrooms too! What a concept. Yes, Zurich was great. From the great shopping to the sights! Now on the next city.
I was much more awake for Lucerne, and actually, it ended up being my favorite city on our trip. I had been once before years ago and couldn't wait to show my husband the famous Chapel bridge. It's a photographers dream. The shopping and food were really good in Lucerne. It has a beautiful old city. One exciting thing we did from Lucern was to take the boat ride to Mt. Pilatus and take a cog train the top of the mountain. I have a huge fear of heights so this was a very big deal for me. Would I would do it again, yes, it was worth the sweaty palms. The views were amazing and there was a gift shop at the top! Fun! And a couple of restaurants. We made a day of it and had a blast.
As it turned out, the first week of our trip was actually much warmer than anticipated, so I spent some time shopping for cooler clothes. I wasn't too happy with the weather those first few days, I was looking forward to a cooler climate and hadn't packed appropriately. One thing I'll mention right now about Switzerland that is different from other European countries that I've been to is that it is extremely expensive. Everything from clothing to jewelry, to restaurants (and coffee) was 2-3 times what we pay in the US for the same exact item. I was shocked and therefore had to readjust my budget.
We decided to add Bern to our itinerary, being that it is the capital and we had never been. In retrospect, I probably wouldn't do it again, but it was interesting. I noticed that each city we visited had it's very own unique personality. Bern was no exception. It had an old city, but also a "new" old city. Which looked just as old to me. But, what do I know! Anyway, our hotel in Bern was a bust. I hated it. So, it probably dampened my view a bit. We did tour a castle. However, overall, I wouldn't visit Bern again, once was enough for me.
On to Lausanne--the French speaking part of the country. On to not hearing German! My husband is the German translator of our family and I am the French. Neither of us is very good at our jobs though, but we get by. I felt much more comfortable once I was hearing French over the speakers on the trains and trams. Lausanne is beautiful. Just walking through the streets was enough for me. The food was better, the street names were easier to pronounce. You get the picture, it was French! We did several side trips from Lausanne, we took a boat to Vevey, which was a beautiful little village on the lake. It happened to be raining, but it sure didn't ruin the day. It's such a quaint place, and with crepes for lunch and macaroons for dessert, what's not to like. During those few days there we also took the train to Geneva. What an interesting city. Very modern, upscale and busy. However, I am glad that we just did a day trip and did not book a hotel. It was too big and contemporary for me. I was into the village life by then and didn't want to change.
There is so much more that I could write about. This vacation was amazing. 2 weeks in Switzerland, planes, trains, and boats. Old world vs new world. Lakes and mountains. Castles and tiny villages. Cows and mountain goats. We saw it all and then some. Go to Europe. I'm still dreaming about our trip. And with hundreds of pictures, I'll be able to relive it for years to come!
This trip will be our last for awhile. We are going through a big life change. My mom is coming to live with us. In fact, in just a few minutes we are leaving for the airport and on to California to pick her up. She will be with us for the rest of her life. And, I don't want to leave her and go on a vacation. That's not why I'm bringing her here. We'll have years of travel time later. After.
And that's OK. We have our memories, our pictures, and our stories. We are so very thankful for our trips abroad and are already planning more to come in the future. Right now though, we are shifting focus. Pray for us. Pray for my mom. What a life change for her. Pray for her health also.
God had been good to us. We are thankful. We have been abundantly blessed.
We started in Zurich and stayed for 4 days. We walked approximately 8-10 miles per day during the entirety of our trip, so that along with rail travel shows just how busy we really were. I must admit that for the first 2-3 days in Zurich I was pretty jet lagged. There are parts of that portion of our trip that are very foggy in my brain. Which is why I am very glad that I took so many pictures. As I look through them my memories slowly are returning. I liked our hotel, however, even though I tried hard to get close to the train stations, sometimes we were a little further than we thought. Hauling big 50 lb rolling duffles across old paving stones isn't my idea of fun. Especially after being up for 24 hours and trying hard not to snarl and snap at anyone who got in my way!
We finally rolled in though, checked into our hotel, unpacked and took showers. We then set off on foot and hit the old city. My favorite part. Anything old with great architecture is my idea of a wonderful adventure. Switzerland is abundant when it comes to beautiful buildings, castles, and churches. One of the things I love most while traveling is finding flea markets or even farmers markets. I love walking through the stalls, looking at homemade jams, honey, fruit, and vegetables. It's even better when there are antiques and vintage items. As we were walking to our first boat ride on Lake Zurich we found a great farmers market right on the lake and met some really nice people. One vendor gave me a tote bag--he explained that his son-in-law was American and he wanted me to have the bag. We stood and talked for awhile and then headed off to the boat dock. We took hundreds of pictures, as we both took our big SLRs. The words "breathtaking" comes to mind. Sailing in front of village after village, castle after castle. One thing I loved was that the boats and trains were clean. They had snack bars and bathrooms too! What a concept. Yes, Zurich was great. From the great shopping to the sights! Now on the next city.
I was much more awake for Lucerne, and actually, it ended up being my favorite city on our trip. I had been once before years ago and couldn't wait to show my husband the famous Chapel bridge. It's a photographers dream. The shopping and food were really good in Lucerne. It has a beautiful old city. One exciting thing we did from Lucern was to take the boat ride to Mt. Pilatus and take a cog train the top of the mountain. I have a huge fear of heights so this was a very big deal for me. Would I would do it again, yes, it was worth the sweaty palms. The views were amazing and there was a gift shop at the top! Fun! And a couple of restaurants. We made a day of it and had a blast.
As it turned out, the first week of our trip was actually much warmer than anticipated, so I spent some time shopping for cooler clothes. I wasn't too happy with the weather those first few days, I was looking forward to a cooler climate and hadn't packed appropriately. One thing I'll mention right now about Switzerland that is different from other European countries that I've been to is that it is extremely expensive. Everything from clothing to jewelry, to restaurants (and coffee) was 2-3 times what we pay in the US for the same exact item. I was shocked and therefore had to readjust my budget.
We decided to add Bern to our itinerary, being that it is the capital and we had never been. In retrospect, I probably wouldn't do it again, but it was interesting. I noticed that each city we visited had it's very own unique personality. Bern was no exception. It had an old city, but also a "new" old city. Which looked just as old to me. But, what do I know! Anyway, our hotel in Bern was a bust. I hated it. So, it probably dampened my view a bit. We did tour a castle. However, overall, I wouldn't visit Bern again, once was enough for me.
On to Lausanne--the French speaking part of the country. On to not hearing German! My husband is the German translator of our family and I am the French. Neither of us is very good at our jobs though, but we get by. I felt much more comfortable once I was hearing French over the speakers on the trains and trams. Lausanne is beautiful. Just walking through the streets was enough for me. The food was better, the street names were easier to pronounce. You get the picture, it was French! We did several side trips from Lausanne, we took a boat to Vevey, which was a beautiful little village on the lake. It happened to be raining, but it sure didn't ruin the day. It's such a quaint place, and with crepes for lunch and macaroons for dessert, what's not to like. During those few days there we also took the train to Geneva. What an interesting city. Very modern, upscale and busy. However, I am glad that we just did a day trip and did not book a hotel. It was too big and contemporary for me. I was into the village life by then and didn't want to change.
There is so much more that I could write about. This vacation was amazing. 2 weeks in Switzerland, planes, trains, and boats. Old world vs new world. Lakes and mountains. Castles and tiny villages. Cows and mountain goats. We saw it all and then some. Go to Europe. I'm still dreaming about our trip. And with hundreds of pictures, I'll be able to relive it for years to come!
This trip will be our last for awhile. We are going through a big life change. My mom is coming to live with us. In fact, in just a few minutes we are leaving for the airport and on to California to pick her up. She will be with us for the rest of her life. And, I don't want to leave her and go on a vacation. That's not why I'm bringing her here. We'll have years of travel time later. After.
And that's OK. We have our memories, our pictures, and our stories. We are so very thankful for our trips abroad and are already planning more to come in the future. Right now though, we are shifting focus. Pray for us. Pray for my mom. What a life change for her. Pray for her health also.
God had been good to us. We are thankful. We have been abundantly blessed.
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
Switzerland Bound
I am supposed to be getting ready. I have a ton to do today. I have to finish packing, get a mani-pedi, clean the house, and on and on. Instead, I am blogging. I have to write when the bug bites, you know?
We leave tomorrow for Switzerland. No, not a business trip this time, a vacation. A real live vacation, the kind that involves no working for my husband. In theory anyway. I'll bet you 10 bucks he checks his email while we are gone. Old habits die hard and all that!
A lot of friends have asked me--why Switzerland? I don't really have a good answer for that question. It came about by accident really. We were talking about Scotland, and then ended up buying tickets to Switzerland--and no, not by mistake, we know how to spell. Actually, I think it began when a friend of mine asked me if I had ever been there. I said yes, but was there for only a week and felt that I was seeing the country at breakneck speed. This is what happens to me when I travel with my husband on business. Whiplash. As we speed by the beautiful sights on our way to the "next meeting", I try hard to see things and pretend that one day I'll be back. Only this time--I am going back, tomorrow!
Once that fateful question was asked, I couldn't seem to get Switzerland off my mind. So, when we sat down to plan our vacation, I asked--what about going to Switzerland? 10 minutes later, we were!
We bought our flights, picked 4 cities to explore, made hotel reservations, purchased rail passes, and now we wait. Until tomorrow. Then we go! I will finally be able to spend some quality time in the cities that I barely had time to see last time I was there. And that was around 10 years ago. I remember lakes, mountains, cheese, and cows. I remember shopping in Zurich for like 3 minutes and walking across a wonderful bridge. I remember getting car sick on curvy roads through the Alps, and I remember eating fondue. So yes, I do have some great memories, which I now wish to turn into awesome memories, sans business.
I'll blog from each city, going into detail about our experiences as I travel over the next 2 weeks. I'm taking 2 cameras, 1 huge Eagle Creek duffel, a backpack and a cross body handbag. I'm looking forward to seeing and doing and eating new things. I'm looking forward to spending the next 2 weeks with my husband, all alone. No drama, no heartache, no sadness. Just us.
This trip will most likely be our last European vacation for a few years. My mom is coming to live with us next month, and I know myself, I won't want to leave her once she is settled in. My goal is to take full advantage of this time with my husband before our lives change. It's important to me.
I'm trying hard not to have any preconceived expectations, and yet, I do. Great big huge expectations. I want this trip to be breathtaking. I want my photos to capture my emotions. I want this time with my husband to last us over the next few years. I want memories. I am Switzerland-bound.
We leave tomorrow for Switzerland. No, not a business trip this time, a vacation. A real live vacation, the kind that involves no working for my husband. In theory anyway. I'll bet you 10 bucks he checks his email while we are gone. Old habits die hard and all that!
A lot of friends have asked me--why Switzerland? I don't really have a good answer for that question. It came about by accident really. We were talking about Scotland, and then ended up buying tickets to Switzerland--and no, not by mistake, we know how to spell. Actually, I think it began when a friend of mine asked me if I had ever been there. I said yes, but was there for only a week and felt that I was seeing the country at breakneck speed. This is what happens to me when I travel with my husband on business. Whiplash. As we speed by the beautiful sights on our way to the "next meeting", I try hard to see things and pretend that one day I'll be back. Only this time--I am going back, tomorrow!
Once that fateful question was asked, I couldn't seem to get Switzerland off my mind. So, when we sat down to plan our vacation, I asked--what about going to Switzerland? 10 minutes later, we were!
We bought our flights, picked 4 cities to explore, made hotel reservations, purchased rail passes, and now we wait. Until tomorrow. Then we go! I will finally be able to spend some quality time in the cities that I barely had time to see last time I was there. And that was around 10 years ago. I remember lakes, mountains, cheese, and cows. I remember shopping in Zurich for like 3 minutes and walking across a wonderful bridge. I remember getting car sick on curvy roads through the Alps, and I remember eating fondue. So yes, I do have some great memories, which I now wish to turn into awesome memories, sans business.
I'll blog from each city, going into detail about our experiences as I travel over the next 2 weeks. I'm taking 2 cameras, 1 huge Eagle Creek duffel, a backpack and a cross body handbag. I'm looking forward to seeing and doing and eating new things. I'm looking forward to spending the next 2 weeks with my husband, all alone. No drama, no heartache, no sadness. Just us.
This trip will most likely be our last European vacation for a few years. My mom is coming to live with us next month, and I know myself, I won't want to leave her once she is settled in. My goal is to take full advantage of this time with my husband before our lives change. It's important to me.
I'm trying hard not to have any preconceived expectations, and yet, I do. Great big huge expectations. I want this trip to be breathtaking. I want my photos to capture my emotions. I want this time with my husband to last us over the next few years. I want memories. I am Switzerland-bound.
Friday, August 26, 2016
These Are My Tears
I am packing. I need to take clothing for flying, clothing for coffee and lunches, but mostly I need to take clothing for my dad's memorial service. The clothing has to be cool as it is going to be 94 degrees that day, and it has to be darker colors to show respect. Yes, I am packing. And through this packing, finally the tears. It is finally hitting me. My dad is dead. He was cremated right after his death and buried a few weeks ago. He really is gone.
This service--his memorial, is going to be harder on me than I thought it would. This sudden rush of tears as I pack up my suitcase has left me a little surprised. I assure you that I am normal in my grief, I cried when I heard that he had passed, I cry with my mom on the phone as she speaks of missing him so much and not wanting to go on, however, I think I was crying more for them and not really for me. I grieve mostly for my mother. After 63 years of marriage, she is now facing the rest of her life alone. And that makes me so sad. She is barely getting through this time. She is barely holding on. So, yes, I have cried, but it has mostly been for her. Until now.
Now, as I pack my outfit for my father's service, these tears are for me. As I cry, and mourn, and grieve, these are my tears. Mine. All mine. I don't want to get on that plane today. I don't want to fly out to California. I don't want to see my extended family and I don't want to cry and think about not ever seeing my dad alive again. It's just too much.
I want to stay home. I want to enjoy my life. I want to ignore the feelings and emotions that sometimes sneak up on me. I want to push down those feeling, and not take them out right now. It's just too hard. What I want though, and what I must do, don't seem to coincide. I have to be a grown up, and that isn't always fun. I have to finish packing up, take my dog to her boarding place, get on that long flight, try not to cry, and land in a hot, sad place. Uggggg Not a happy time in my life at all. Not at all.
I know I sound selfish, I know this. However, when I began writing this blog a few years back, there was one thing I promised myself. I promised to always share my feelings, my thoughts, my emotions, my truth, and to be as transparent as possible, even if it meant exposing myself for whom I really am. I write this blog mainly for my grandchildren. I am hoping that they get to know me better--in some distant future--and that they somehow feel closer to me. I want them to know that I was just as human as they are. I also write it for my friends and family. Because although I am a Christian and walk extremely close with my God, I am also extremely human, much to my dismay.
Yes, I am an emotional being--frail, lonely, insecure, etc. And I own it.
So today, I cry. My tears. For me. For my own sadness. I cry for the what-could-have-been's, the what should-have-been's and the memories that I hold dear to my heart. I guess I just miss my dad.
This service--his memorial, is going to be harder on me than I thought it would. This sudden rush of tears as I pack up my suitcase has left me a little surprised. I assure you that I am normal in my grief, I cried when I heard that he had passed, I cry with my mom on the phone as she speaks of missing him so much and not wanting to go on, however, I think I was crying more for them and not really for me. I grieve mostly for my mother. After 63 years of marriage, she is now facing the rest of her life alone. And that makes me so sad. She is barely getting through this time. She is barely holding on. So, yes, I have cried, but it has mostly been for her. Until now.
Now, as I pack my outfit for my father's service, these tears are for me. As I cry, and mourn, and grieve, these are my tears. Mine. All mine. I don't want to get on that plane today. I don't want to fly out to California. I don't want to see my extended family and I don't want to cry and think about not ever seeing my dad alive again. It's just too much.
I want to stay home. I want to enjoy my life. I want to ignore the feelings and emotions that sometimes sneak up on me. I want to push down those feeling, and not take them out right now. It's just too hard. What I want though, and what I must do, don't seem to coincide. I have to be a grown up, and that isn't always fun. I have to finish packing up, take my dog to her boarding place, get on that long flight, try not to cry, and land in a hot, sad place. Uggggg Not a happy time in my life at all. Not at all.
I know I sound selfish, I know this. However, when I began writing this blog a few years back, there was one thing I promised myself. I promised to always share my feelings, my thoughts, my emotions, my truth, and to be as transparent as possible, even if it meant exposing myself for whom I really am. I write this blog mainly for my grandchildren. I am hoping that they get to know me better--in some distant future--and that they somehow feel closer to me. I want them to know that I was just as human as they are. I also write it for my friends and family. Because although I am a Christian and walk extremely close with my God, I am also extremely human, much to my dismay.
Yes, I am an emotional being--frail, lonely, insecure, etc. And I own it.
So today, I cry. My tears. For me. For my own sadness. I cry for the what-could-have-been's, the what should-have-been's and the memories that I hold dear to my heart. I guess I just miss my dad.
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
This Past Year
I'm not going to lie. It's been a rough year for me. Too many changes, some good, some not so good.
It all began a year ago. A cash offer on our home near Chicago. Did we want to move? Yes. And no. We missed our children and grandchildren, however, we had plugged in and made awesome friends and hated to leave them. After much praying though, the decision was made. We took the offer, sold half of our belongings and headed back to whence we came. Ohio or bust.
Everything changed. We downsized, moved out into the country (for me anyway) and began a new (and much different) chapter in our lives.
June--sold our home, sold our stuff, bought a new home, packed our junk.
July--pretended like we were on vacation, said goodbye to friends and neighbors, lived in a hotel for a couple of weeks. Friends from Belgium came and stayed at the hotel with us--made it so much more bearable. Love that family!
August--Moved into a new house, realized it was a tiny house, that it was out in the boonies, and way too quiet. Unpacked, ran out of space, had granite installed throughout, painted interior, met new neighbors. Bought a new puppy--secretly hoping it would cheer us up, including our existing dog. It didn't--cheer us up that is.
September--I went back to my old Bible study group--45 minutes away. Played with the new puppy. Said goodbye to the old dog, who died of cancer. Grieved for her and am still dealing with losing her. Sadness overwhelmed me.
Visited daughter in DC. Played with the new puppy and babysat local grandkids. Joined New Clevelanders, getting very involved in a club. Trying to stay positive.
October--enjoyed the beautiful fall colors of NE Ohio, they are breathtaking. A friend from Calif visited. Began puppy obedience training. Getting on with life. Missing Chicago friends.
November--went to Chicago for a week, visited old friends, shopped, ate, enjoyed life. Thanksgiving with my whole family loved it.
December--shopped, ate, enjoyed family. It's why we moved back. Busy with the club. New house feels especially cramped. Trying hard to get used to a tiny house--that's what I've taken to calling it, even though it really isn't as small as I make it out to be.
January--after Christmas blues setting in, trying hard to stay really busy. Still, haven't found the right church. Miss my old church, my old friends, my old dog, my old house, my river. Feeling sad.
February--lonely, sad, bored. Hard to feel optimistic. Trying though.
March--visited our daughter in DC, had lots of fun. Husband went to Congo, lonely 2 weeks, I hate it when he goes. All alone, sad. Trying to keep very busy.
April--living life, staying busy with dog training, club activities, family. Sister-in-law visited from Ca.
May--coming to terms with father's terminal illness, went to Ca. said goodbye to him for the last time, hardest trip ever. Beginning to cope with grief.
June--summer is here, along with stupid ugly cicadas. I hate them--their sound, their buzzing around, their size, everything about those bugs--I hate. They are everywhere.
Bible study and clubs are taking a summer break--I am now on the board, with lots of work to do--as our activities begin again in a couple of months. Staying busy, planning a Sept vacation, and dealing with the fact that my phone could ring at any minute telling me that my father has died. Lots of sleepless nights. Lots of tears.
July--thinking a lot about death and dying. Praying for my mom, as my father just passed away. Trying to look forward to the future. Having a hard time, but getting through it. Praying hard.
August--I'll be learning to cope. Learning to lean on God. Learning...in all ways.
It's been one year. Full of sadness, and full of joy. Missing old friends, making new ones. Loving my family, especially my 7 grandchildren. Yes, 7! All in all, I'm glad we moved back to Ohio. I've discovered that although I don't like change, I need it. It's how I keep on my toes, keep relevant, keep in touch with God and all that He has for me to do.
I'm looking forward to the next year. We have a big Europe trip planned, then the holidays hit, lots of club activities, and family fun. I'll keep busy, that's for sure. Also, I've learned that time does heal all wounds. I wouldn't change a thing in my life, even though at times I have wanted to. I've discovered that if I just let God lead me and if I follow Him, I'll be OK. So, that's what I'm going to do. Follow Him through every aspect of my life--the good and the bad, it's in His hands.
Saying goodbye is so hard, but saying hello isn't. It's saying hello to a new and exciting chapter of life. It's what I do. Even through my tears.
It all began a year ago. A cash offer on our home near Chicago. Did we want to move? Yes. And no. We missed our children and grandchildren, however, we had plugged in and made awesome friends and hated to leave them. After much praying though, the decision was made. We took the offer, sold half of our belongings and headed back to whence we came. Ohio or bust.
Everything changed. We downsized, moved out into the country (for me anyway) and began a new (and much different) chapter in our lives.
June--sold our home, sold our stuff, bought a new home, packed our junk.
July--pretended like we were on vacation, said goodbye to friends and neighbors, lived in a hotel for a couple of weeks. Friends from Belgium came and stayed at the hotel with us--made it so much more bearable. Love that family!
August--Moved into a new house, realized it was a tiny house, that it was out in the boonies, and way too quiet. Unpacked, ran out of space, had granite installed throughout, painted interior, met new neighbors. Bought a new puppy--secretly hoping it would cheer us up, including our existing dog. It didn't--cheer us up that is.
September--I went back to my old Bible study group--45 minutes away. Played with the new puppy. Said goodbye to the old dog, who died of cancer. Grieved for her and am still dealing with losing her. Sadness overwhelmed me.
Visited daughter in DC. Played with the new puppy and babysat local grandkids. Joined New Clevelanders, getting very involved in a club. Trying to stay positive.
October--enjoyed the beautiful fall colors of NE Ohio, they are breathtaking. A friend from Calif visited. Began puppy obedience training. Getting on with life. Missing Chicago friends.
November--went to Chicago for a week, visited old friends, shopped, ate, enjoyed life. Thanksgiving with my whole family loved it.
December--shopped, ate, enjoyed family. It's why we moved back. Busy with the club. New house feels especially cramped. Trying hard to get used to a tiny house--that's what I've taken to calling it, even though it really isn't as small as I make it out to be.
January--after Christmas blues setting in, trying hard to stay really busy. Still, haven't found the right church. Miss my old church, my old friends, my old dog, my old house, my river. Feeling sad.
February--lonely, sad, bored. Hard to feel optimistic. Trying though.
March--visited our daughter in DC, had lots of fun. Husband went to Congo, lonely 2 weeks, I hate it when he goes. All alone, sad. Trying to keep very busy.
April--living life, staying busy with dog training, club activities, family. Sister-in-law visited from Ca.
May--coming to terms with father's terminal illness, went to Ca. said goodbye to him for the last time, hardest trip ever. Beginning to cope with grief.
June--summer is here, along with stupid ugly cicadas. I hate them--their sound, their buzzing around, their size, everything about those bugs--I hate. They are everywhere.
Bible study and clubs are taking a summer break--I am now on the board, with lots of work to do--as our activities begin again in a couple of months. Staying busy, planning a Sept vacation, and dealing with the fact that my phone could ring at any minute telling me that my father has died. Lots of sleepless nights. Lots of tears.
July--thinking a lot about death and dying. Praying for my mom, as my father just passed away. Trying to look forward to the future. Having a hard time, but getting through it. Praying hard.
August--I'll be learning to cope. Learning to lean on God. Learning...in all ways.
It's been one year. Full of sadness, and full of joy. Missing old friends, making new ones. Loving my family, especially my 7 grandchildren. Yes, 7! All in all, I'm glad we moved back to Ohio. I've discovered that although I don't like change, I need it. It's how I keep on my toes, keep relevant, keep in touch with God and all that He has for me to do.
I'm looking forward to the next year. We have a big Europe trip planned, then the holidays hit, lots of club activities, and family fun. I'll keep busy, that's for sure. Also, I've learned that time does heal all wounds. I wouldn't change a thing in my life, even though at times I have wanted to. I've discovered that if I just let God lead me and if I follow Him, I'll be OK. So, that's what I'm going to do. Follow Him through every aspect of my life--the good and the bad, it's in His hands.
Saying goodbye is so hard, but saying hello isn't. It's saying hello to a new and exciting chapter of life. It's what I do. Even through my tears.
Monday, July 11, 2016
Ashes to Ashes--The Legacy of a Man
On July 9th in the warm California afternoon sun, my father went home. And by that, I mean he went to heaven, he passed into the arms of his creator, his savior, his maker, his king, his Jesus. He was 85 years old, born in Oklahoma, moved to California as a child, met and married, raised a family and then died there. He is survived by his wife (my mom), 3 daughters, 6 grandchildren (with 3 grandchildren already in heaven) and a host of great-grandchildren.
In the Christian faith we believe that if one is "saved or born again" if they have accepted Christ as their Lord and Savior if they have confessed their sins and have asked Jesus Christ into their hearts--that when they die, they will go to heaven. Regardless of your beliefs, this is the belief system that my family embraces. And while I do not condemn yours (for that is not my place) I do adhere to mine. I love my God with all my heart. And I now pay tribute to the man who introduced me to my Lord.
When I was just 6 years old, and my father then 30--my family met Jesus for the first time. My father's conversion changed the course of my family forever. Because of his change, our lives were changed. There was a ripple effect--so to speak. He accepted Christ, then my mom, then his children and so on. Some of his siblings and their children soon followed. I believe that because of the drastic and dynamic change that came over my father--others came to believe also. If he could change that much--then God must be real. I guess back in the day, my dad was a real rabble rouser.
My dad was never a big talker. Until it came time to tell a great story from the past, some trouble that either he and his brothers got into and or funny story about his time in the military. Some were a little hard to believe--that's my dad? Boy, had he changed. And that change is what has affected my life the most. I wonder if he ever realized how much influence he had on me and mine? His 30 years of trouble making compared to his 55 years of serving God. I wonder?
As I reflect back on the dad I knew--he was quiet, he was extremely intelligent (a genius really) he was a very deep thinker, and he loved God and he loved my mom. He would have done anything for anyone, was very tender-hearted, and in the end, was more worried about the care of my mother over anyone or anything else.
I sat thinking this morning about what my dad had instilled in me as a child--values, life lessons, etc. when it occurred to me that he left me with the greatest gift of all. The best gift in all the world. He left me with the burning desire for my own children and grandchildren to love and serve God. The absolute most important thing in life to me is that my family love God. I honestly don't care about the other "stuff"--the successes in life, the money, homes, education, what have you. I only care about their relationship with Christ.
I think in saying that, I am paying tribute to my father. He, along with my mom, planted that seed in us as children. I once remember them saying--no matter what we do, even if we walk away from God, never, ever leave Him. Always follow God with all your hearts, souls and minds. Don't look at us, keep your eyes on Jesus. We will fail you, but God never will. And I always have and I always will. And I'm so thankful that they always have too.
Hope is something that Christians have. Hope that one day we will be reunited with those that have passed on into the next phase of "life". Hope that we will all see each other again one day soon. As my father entered into heaven he was greeted by so many loved ones. His parents, some siblings, many other family members and 3 of his own grandchildren. I can only imagine how excited he was to be able to shake off his tired old body and receive his new heavenly body, and to run and hug those that he loved so dearly--what a reunion!
So today, I thank God for healing my dad. For receiving him into heaven, to sit with him for all of eternity. Today, I thank my dad for showing me who God really is and for raising me in a Christian home. Today, I have hope. Today, I celebrate my dad's life. What a legacy!
My prayer is that I am the daughter that you always wanted me to be. I'm trying Dad, and I will see you someday soon. I promise.
In the Christian faith we believe that if one is "saved or born again" if they have accepted Christ as their Lord and Savior if they have confessed their sins and have asked Jesus Christ into their hearts--that when they die, they will go to heaven. Regardless of your beliefs, this is the belief system that my family embraces. And while I do not condemn yours (for that is not my place) I do adhere to mine. I love my God with all my heart. And I now pay tribute to the man who introduced me to my Lord.
When I was just 6 years old, and my father then 30--my family met Jesus for the first time. My father's conversion changed the course of my family forever. Because of his change, our lives were changed. There was a ripple effect--so to speak. He accepted Christ, then my mom, then his children and so on. Some of his siblings and their children soon followed. I believe that because of the drastic and dynamic change that came over my father--others came to believe also. If he could change that much--then God must be real. I guess back in the day, my dad was a real rabble rouser.
My dad was never a big talker. Until it came time to tell a great story from the past, some trouble that either he and his brothers got into and or funny story about his time in the military. Some were a little hard to believe--that's my dad? Boy, had he changed. And that change is what has affected my life the most. I wonder if he ever realized how much influence he had on me and mine? His 30 years of trouble making compared to his 55 years of serving God. I wonder?
As I reflect back on the dad I knew--he was quiet, he was extremely intelligent (a genius really) he was a very deep thinker, and he loved God and he loved my mom. He would have done anything for anyone, was very tender-hearted, and in the end, was more worried about the care of my mother over anyone or anything else.
I sat thinking this morning about what my dad had instilled in me as a child--values, life lessons, etc. when it occurred to me that he left me with the greatest gift of all. The best gift in all the world. He left me with the burning desire for my own children and grandchildren to love and serve God. The absolute most important thing in life to me is that my family love God. I honestly don't care about the other "stuff"--the successes in life, the money, homes, education, what have you. I only care about their relationship with Christ.
I think in saying that, I am paying tribute to my father. He, along with my mom, planted that seed in us as children. I once remember them saying--no matter what we do, even if we walk away from God, never, ever leave Him. Always follow God with all your hearts, souls and minds. Don't look at us, keep your eyes on Jesus. We will fail you, but God never will. And I always have and I always will. And I'm so thankful that they always have too.
Hope is something that Christians have. Hope that one day we will be reunited with those that have passed on into the next phase of "life". Hope that we will all see each other again one day soon. As my father entered into heaven he was greeted by so many loved ones. His parents, some siblings, many other family members and 3 of his own grandchildren. I can only imagine how excited he was to be able to shake off his tired old body and receive his new heavenly body, and to run and hug those that he loved so dearly--what a reunion!
So today, I thank God for healing my dad. For receiving him into heaven, to sit with him for all of eternity. Today, I thank my dad for showing me who God really is and for raising me in a Christian home. Today, I have hope. Today, I celebrate my dad's life. What a legacy!
My prayer is that I am the daughter that you always wanted me to be. I'm trying Dad, and I will see you someday soon. I promise.
Friday, June 17, 2016
Cicada Attack
One will never be able to say that I don't or can't laugh at myself. Do I feel a little foolish? Why yes, yes I do. But, it happened, so I'll share it, and laugh if you must, but also remember that the fear is real, very real.
Northeast Ohio is under attack. We have been invaded by the 17-year emergence of the ugliest bug you'd ever hope to see. It's a great big, 2 inches or bigger, ugly, flying Cicada. And I hate them. And I fear them. Yes, I have an irrational phobia of those ugly gross creatures. In 17 years, I hope to either be dead or on an extended vacation until they go back to where they came from, which is probably hell, I'm not even kidding. I can't even begin to explain to you how much I detest these horrible insects.
They invaded our neighborhood a couple of weeks ago. Stupid bugs. They are so loud that it sounds like a siren going off. Ugg, I hate that noise! They are everywhere. In the trees, in the grass, flying through the air, darting in and out of every single place, everywhere you look. It's absolutely horrific.
I've been asking my husband to walk our dog during their most active times, which is somewhere between the hours of 7:00 am to sundown when it cools off. Thankfully he's been available and willing since he recognizes that my fear is real. I'm not saying he understands it, he himself doesn't really have any true phobias. Me on the other hand, well, let's just say I make up for the both of us.
Today, my husband had to have a wisdom tooth removed. He took our pup out for her morning walk, I drove him to the oral surgeon's office and then back home. I got him all settled in, pain meds were taken, nap ready, and then I cozied in for a time of reading and relaxation. Everything was running like clockwork. Until my dog needed to go potty. Oh no. Not potty. Not outside where the Cicada devils are. No, please, can't you just hold it? Please? Wake up husband, I need you!
Well, I put her collar and leash on and out we went. The ugly bugs were doing their thing--flying, darting, making their stupid loud noise. All the while, I am ducking, bobbing and weaving, trying my hardest to get away from them. Hurry up puppy--do your thing!
I quickly ran inside, shut the door and whew! I made it. Kind of. As I was standing at the kitchen sink, I heard something. At my ear. So I swiped at the sound but still felt strange. Like something was there. So, I walked into the half bath and looked into the mirror. And low and behold, wouldn't you know it, one of those blankety, blank stupid Cicadas was on my back!
I'm so glad that my husband was sacked out in his chair, and that no one was visiting us because they would have gotten a show. It's also a very good thing that my shirt had a snap front because that shirt unsnapped and was off of my body so fast--as I ran out of the bathroom screaming and dancing around while ripping that shirt off of me as fast as I could. Once off and laying on the ground, I ran away from it, still shaken and practically (ok, not so practically) yelling and jumping up and down. The dog was barking, my husband sat up and was wondering what in the heck was going on. I couldn't go near the shirt and just keep jumping around yelling for him to get the bug.
He did, he's my hero. As I locked myself in our bedroom, he killed that dumb bug and saved me! In his medicated, drug induced state, he came to my rescue. Thank you, Jesus!
I have now calmed down, my shirt is back on, the dog is sleeping, my husband has had a good nap and all is well with the world. He's feeling better now and has assured me that he will walk our dog as long as those nasty bugs are out there terrorizing the neighborhood. Supposedly they'll be gone in a couple of weeks. I am counting the minutes. I'm not kidding.
Yes, it's been an eventful day around here. I'm still shaking from the cicada attack, but I'll be OK. As for my husband, he'll be OK too. I promise. I'll take really good care of him, keep him medicated and well feed--just as long as he protects me from those horrible Cicadas--I just hate them, I really do!
Yes, go ahead and laugh. He did, and even though I am not laughing, I'll forgive you if you do, it's OK, it really is.
Northeast Ohio is under attack. We have been invaded by the 17-year emergence of the ugliest bug you'd ever hope to see. It's a great big, 2 inches or bigger, ugly, flying Cicada. And I hate them. And I fear them. Yes, I have an irrational phobia of those ugly gross creatures. In 17 years, I hope to either be dead or on an extended vacation until they go back to where they came from, which is probably hell, I'm not even kidding. I can't even begin to explain to you how much I detest these horrible insects.
They invaded our neighborhood a couple of weeks ago. Stupid bugs. They are so loud that it sounds like a siren going off. Ugg, I hate that noise! They are everywhere. In the trees, in the grass, flying through the air, darting in and out of every single place, everywhere you look. It's absolutely horrific.
I've been asking my husband to walk our dog during their most active times, which is somewhere between the hours of 7:00 am to sundown when it cools off. Thankfully he's been available and willing since he recognizes that my fear is real. I'm not saying he understands it, he himself doesn't really have any true phobias. Me on the other hand, well, let's just say I make up for the both of us.
Today, my husband had to have a wisdom tooth removed. He took our pup out for her morning walk, I drove him to the oral surgeon's office and then back home. I got him all settled in, pain meds were taken, nap ready, and then I cozied in for a time of reading and relaxation. Everything was running like clockwork. Until my dog needed to go potty. Oh no. Not potty. Not outside where the Cicada devils are. No, please, can't you just hold it? Please? Wake up husband, I need you!
Well, I put her collar and leash on and out we went. The ugly bugs were doing their thing--flying, darting, making their stupid loud noise. All the while, I am ducking, bobbing and weaving, trying my hardest to get away from them. Hurry up puppy--do your thing!
I quickly ran inside, shut the door and whew! I made it. Kind of. As I was standing at the kitchen sink, I heard something. At my ear. So I swiped at the sound but still felt strange. Like something was there. So, I walked into the half bath and looked into the mirror. And low and behold, wouldn't you know it, one of those blankety, blank stupid Cicadas was on my back!
I'm so glad that my husband was sacked out in his chair, and that no one was visiting us because they would have gotten a show. It's also a very good thing that my shirt had a snap front because that shirt unsnapped and was off of my body so fast--as I ran out of the bathroom screaming and dancing around while ripping that shirt off of me as fast as I could. Once off and laying on the ground, I ran away from it, still shaken and practically (ok, not so practically) yelling and jumping up and down. The dog was barking, my husband sat up and was wondering what in the heck was going on. I couldn't go near the shirt and just keep jumping around yelling for him to get the bug.
He did, he's my hero. As I locked myself in our bedroom, he killed that dumb bug and saved me! In his medicated, drug induced state, he came to my rescue. Thank you, Jesus!
I have now calmed down, my shirt is back on, the dog is sleeping, my husband has had a good nap and all is well with the world. He's feeling better now and has assured me that he will walk our dog as long as those nasty bugs are out there terrorizing the neighborhood. Supposedly they'll be gone in a couple of weeks. I am counting the minutes. I'm not kidding.
Yes, it's been an eventful day around here. I'm still shaking from the cicada attack, but I'll be OK. As for my husband, he'll be OK too. I promise. I'll take really good care of him, keep him medicated and well feed--just as long as he protects me from those horrible Cicadas--I just hate them, I really do!
Yes, go ahead and laugh. He did, and even though I am not laughing, I'll forgive you if you do, it's OK, it really is.
Thursday, June 2, 2016
It's Almost time
In just a few days or maybe a few weeks the time will come when my father takes his last breath. It's hard for me to even process this fact--that we all die. We all return from the place where we came. Dust to dust. Yes, it's so very hard to even contemplate death--for me anyway.
A couple of weeks ago I flew home to California to visit with my parents, and to say goodbye to my father one last time. I was concerned that he wouldn't know who I was, but he did, he knew. When I asked him how many daughters he had, he answered, and when I asked him if he knew who I was, he whispered--number 1 daughter.
It was hard for me. Seeing him in his hospital bed, so frail and weak. I desperately tried to get him to eat something and to drink a little milk or juice--anything to give him some strength. He wanted nothing, he just kept saying that he was in pain, that his back hurt and that he wanted to lie down. The nurses had him sitting up in a wheelchair at that point and he was in so much pain. He begged to be taken back to bed. It was heartbreaking.
Over the course of a week, each day was different. One day he wouldn't talk at all and was only able to make guttural sounds as he tried to communicate his needs, and the next day he would be sitting up and able to speak in 1 to 3-word phrases, I never knew what the day would bring. As painful as it was for me to witness, I believe that it was even more painful for him to watch me in such a mournful state. At one point he asked for a tissue as big tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched me cry. I knew then that I had to get it together, for the sake of my dad, I had to get my emotions in check and be strong for him and my mom.
Each night back at our hotel, I would lay in the arms of my husband and sob. I am so thankful for him and will be forever grateful for his kindness and understanding during this time. He has been my rock, the only one that I can talk to and the only one who understands.
The week went by quickly and once again I was back to my reality, my life, my family. I was able to turn off the thoughts and emotions and go throughout my day. I have been calling my mother daily to keep on top of the health of my dad and each day he grows worse. I live on pins and needles waiting for that dreaded and yet anticipated phone call.
Mostly, my heart breaks for my mom. She is alone now. Her best friend, her husband of 63+ years is no longer able to live with her. She is all by herself. No companion, no partner in crime, no best friend to sit and watch late night TV with. She is alone. I think that is what bothers me the most. Her loss. Not mine. Not my sisters. Not anyone else. Just her. My heart breaks for her.
I know that one day I will see my dad again in heaven. I am a Christian, and so is he. We have that peace, that assurance that we will one day be reunited. We don't live with a fear of death. We look forward to seeing God and being in His presence. It's comforting to us.
It's this time on earth that's a little disconcerting for me. This time of space that's in-between. Death for him, life for me. I know that once I also die, we'll see each other again. However, what about that in-between time? What do we do with that time? What will my mom do? That's what I am most concerned about. How do I comfort her? What do I say? It's so hard not living close to them. I feel so guilty, and yet, isn't this where God moved me?
To say that my family needs, no covets your prayers is an understatement. My mom needs prayer in coping with the impending death of her husband, my father. My sister needs prayer in coping with the care of my mom, and I need prayer in coping with the guilt of not living in California. My father also needs your prayers. Please pray that he goes quickly, and pain-free. Pray that both my parents find peace in God's perfect will. It's almost time.
A couple of weeks ago I flew home to California to visit with my parents, and to say goodbye to my father one last time. I was concerned that he wouldn't know who I was, but he did, he knew. When I asked him how many daughters he had, he answered, and when I asked him if he knew who I was, he whispered--number 1 daughter.
It was hard for me. Seeing him in his hospital bed, so frail and weak. I desperately tried to get him to eat something and to drink a little milk or juice--anything to give him some strength. He wanted nothing, he just kept saying that he was in pain, that his back hurt and that he wanted to lie down. The nurses had him sitting up in a wheelchair at that point and he was in so much pain. He begged to be taken back to bed. It was heartbreaking.
Over the course of a week, each day was different. One day he wouldn't talk at all and was only able to make guttural sounds as he tried to communicate his needs, and the next day he would be sitting up and able to speak in 1 to 3-word phrases, I never knew what the day would bring. As painful as it was for me to witness, I believe that it was even more painful for him to watch me in such a mournful state. At one point he asked for a tissue as big tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched me cry. I knew then that I had to get it together, for the sake of my dad, I had to get my emotions in check and be strong for him and my mom.
Each night back at our hotel, I would lay in the arms of my husband and sob. I am so thankful for him and will be forever grateful for his kindness and understanding during this time. He has been my rock, the only one that I can talk to and the only one who understands.
The week went by quickly and once again I was back to my reality, my life, my family. I was able to turn off the thoughts and emotions and go throughout my day. I have been calling my mother daily to keep on top of the health of my dad and each day he grows worse. I live on pins and needles waiting for that dreaded and yet anticipated phone call.
Mostly, my heart breaks for my mom. She is alone now. Her best friend, her husband of 63+ years is no longer able to live with her. She is all by herself. No companion, no partner in crime, no best friend to sit and watch late night TV with. She is alone. I think that is what bothers me the most. Her loss. Not mine. Not my sisters. Not anyone else. Just her. My heart breaks for her.
I know that one day I will see my dad again in heaven. I am a Christian, and so is he. We have that peace, that assurance that we will one day be reunited. We don't live with a fear of death. We look forward to seeing God and being in His presence. It's comforting to us.
It's this time on earth that's a little disconcerting for me. This time of space that's in-between. Death for him, life for me. I know that once I also die, we'll see each other again. However, what about that in-between time? What do we do with that time? What will my mom do? That's what I am most concerned about. How do I comfort her? What do I say? It's so hard not living close to them. I feel so guilty, and yet, isn't this where God moved me?
To say that my family needs, no covets your prayers is an understatement. My mom needs prayer in coping with the impending death of her husband, my father. My sister needs prayer in coping with the care of my mom, and I need prayer in coping with the guilt of not living in California. My father also needs your prayers. Please pray that he goes quickly, and pain-free. Pray that both my parents find peace in God's perfect will. It's almost time.
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
A Bird's Wing
I saw something the other day that took my breath away. It was a wing. The wing of a bird that has been nesting on the wreath on my front door. She is a very sweet momma bird--a little finch. I've grown quite attached to her. I think she senses this because she does not dive bomb me when I peer into her little nest. I can't seem to stop looking at her babies or taking pictures of them. They fascinate me.
I have watched her for several weeks now. She would bring little twigs and weave them into my wreath. She built her nest in layers. And finally, when she thought her nest was deep enough to shield her babies, she laid 5 beautiful little blue eggs. One each day for 5 days. And then she rested.
After almost 2 weeks her little babies began to hatch. Sometimes I wonder if I was actually more excited about those new little babies than she was. With each new bird baby, I just grew more and more thrilled about them. They were (and still are) adorable.
It ended up that only 3 of my little baby birds survived, for I found 2 dead babies laying on my doorstep one morning. We carefully picked them up and disposed of them. It broke my heart. I had heard her the previous morning making all kinds of noise in her nest and now looking back I think she was getting rid of them. She shoved those dead babies out so that her remaining babies had room to live and grow. She knew what was best--after all, she's the bird mom, not me.
Watching these little birds grow has been a wondrous thing for me. They are really beginning to get big and I know that within a week or 2--off they'll go. I have mixed emotions about that, but then again I am a human. And a mom human to boot!
So back to what I saw the other day because that's really what I want to talk about--I saw the wing of the momma bird. She must have been laying somewhat on her side, for her wing was stretched out flat, covering her babies. It was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. It was perfection. I wish that I had had my camera with me, I would have taken a picture. However, I guess I will just have to have a remembrance of it now--just a sweet memory.
There she was, that momma bird, with her wing covering her babies, when right then I thought of something. It kind of hit me hard. My eyes filled with tears, my heart clenched tight and my breath caught in my throat. I thought of God's wing of protection covering me. God protects me just like this--I thought. Just like this. The wing of a bird. A simple, yet complex wing. Covering me, protecting me. How great is that? Just like a bird's wing.
I have watched her for several weeks now. She would bring little twigs and weave them into my wreath. She built her nest in layers. And finally, when she thought her nest was deep enough to shield her babies, she laid 5 beautiful little blue eggs. One each day for 5 days. And then she rested.
After almost 2 weeks her little babies began to hatch. Sometimes I wonder if I was actually more excited about those new little babies than she was. With each new bird baby, I just grew more and more thrilled about them. They were (and still are) adorable.
It ended up that only 3 of my little baby birds survived, for I found 2 dead babies laying on my doorstep one morning. We carefully picked them up and disposed of them. It broke my heart. I had heard her the previous morning making all kinds of noise in her nest and now looking back I think she was getting rid of them. She shoved those dead babies out so that her remaining babies had room to live and grow. She knew what was best--after all, she's the bird mom, not me.
Watching these little birds grow has been a wondrous thing for me. They are really beginning to get big and I know that within a week or 2--off they'll go. I have mixed emotions about that, but then again I am a human. And a mom human to boot!
So back to what I saw the other day because that's really what I want to talk about--I saw the wing of the momma bird. She must have been laying somewhat on her side, for her wing was stretched out flat, covering her babies. It was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. It was perfection. I wish that I had had my camera with me, I would have taken a picture. However, I guess I will just have to have a remembrance of it now--just a sweet memory.
There she was, that momma bird, with her wing covering her babies, when right then I thought of something. It kind of hit me hard. My eyes filled with tears, my heart clenched tight and my breath caught in my throat. I thought of God's wing of protection covering me. God protects me just like this--I thought. Just like this. The wing of a bird. A simple, yet complex wing. Covering me, protecting me. How great is that? Just like a bird's wing.
Monday, April 4, 2016
Just Come Home
I am going to admit something here--the last few days of this little mundane life of mine have been a tumultuous time for me, and also for my husband. I have always been very honest with my thoughts and feelings (to the point of being criticized) so why should it be any different now? Why shouldn't I share how horrible the last few days have been? And also what I did about it, how I reacted to said circumstances, and the outcome? I also want to share the good and the bad of those reactions. I think it's important for me as a Christian to evaluate my response to difficult situations and then work on those weak areas of my life.
As I blogged earlier, my husband went to Congo again for a 2-week missions trip, this time to work on getting power to a hospital. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of him going--for lots of reasons, mostly all them extremely selfish on my part. However, I stepped aside and away he went. His excitement bugged me. Hey, I did warn you that I am honest with my thoughts. Anyway, during the 2 weeks that he was gone I tried hard to stay busy--clubs, friends, family, lunches, shopping, etc. Anything I could do to make the time go quicker--I did.
Of course, during those 2 weeks, every type of weather known to man hit the Cleveland area. We had temps in the 70's and then we had snow. We had wind gusts that sounded like my little house was going to blow down and then we had beautiful blue skies. Extreme weather at it's best. How did it affect me? Well, I had to walk our little 9-month-old puppy 5 times a day, morning, noon and night. That isn't an unusual feat for me, other than, if it's bad weather or very late at night, my husband will take over that duty. He's very helpful that way. So, imagine a crazy little puppy trying to go potty in windy snowy conditions. She was afraid of her own shadow! Around and around the block we went, she pulling and tugging at her lead, too afraid to relax and let nature take its course. Ugg. A simple doggy walk sometimes took way too long. And as I was out there in the elements walking my pup, I would proceed to get madder and madder that life, in general, was falling in on me. And then I would proceed to have myself a little pity party.
By the time 2 weeks had rolled around I was ready for the other half of this relationship to come home. I wanted someone to carry half the load of this life we had built. I was tired of going it alone. Coffee alone in the morning isn't fun for me, dinner alone every night isn't either. I noticed that I wasn't even laughing at sitcoms and also, wasn't yelling at the TV when people picked the wrong house on House Hunters. In other words, life was not fun for me. Yes, I was ready. Ready to be a couple again. I needed my other half.
And then the phone call came. Weather. Bad weather. Stormy weather in Congo had grounded their plane, and he was now going to miss all his connecting flights. As I sat on the phone listening to his troubles, huge tears began to roll down my cheeks. I had so many plans for the next few days--for us. I didn't want to do them alone--not anymore. Maybe others can relate. Maybe some can't. I know that every marriage is different. Some aren't as closely intertwined as ours. We like to do most everything together. So this was a blow to both of us.
For several hours the team tried hard to reschedule their flights. Finally, I received a text message--he'd be home 2 days late. It is what it is though, so after hanging up I had myself a good cry and tried to concentrate on praying for their safety. What he didn't tell me right then was that at first he was told he couldn't get a flight out until the following week! And also, that he had contracted malaria and was coming down with a bad cold. He didn't want to worry me. However, we don't have that kind of marriage, we tell each other everything--good or bad, we don't keep secrets. So, he wrote me a long email and filled me in on the details. After another good cry and a lot more praying I finally went to bed knowing that he would eventually make it home, just not on my time--but God's.
Thankfully I have some awesome friends who kept tabs on me--they called and prayed with me, and sent me texts and emails. My kids kept me busy, and I kept up with normal daily living. I prayed a lot. The fact that he had malaria really bothered me. The next couple of nights I had trouble sleeping and would just lay in bed and pray.
He was almost home when I received another phone call. After 4 flights, and only 1 to go--his last leg was canceled due to weather. He was stuck in Chicago. So close and yet...
There were no flights to Cleveland on any other airlines for 2 days! 2 more long days. He was done! I could hear it in his voice. It's funny how when one is down and out, the other steps in to pick up the pieces. There I sat all alone in Cleveland with him just a mere 6 hours away--talking him off the ledge (so to speak) and telling him it would all work out. He wanted to rent a car right then and drive those last 6 hours home--at night, in a snowstorm. No, I don't think so. I insisted he get a hotel room, rest up, shower and rent a car the next morning.
About an hour later my phone rang again--I'm on a plane going to Detroit. Detroit? That way I'm closer to home. His plan was to spend the night in Detroit, rent a car the next morning and drive for 3 hours and be home. It was all working out! That is when he realized that he didn't have his drivers license with him. He'd left it home--who needs a license in Congo, right? Anyway, it was just another item that might get stolen. No license, no rental car. He felt trapped. He almost sounded panicked which scared me a little.
I really believe that for both of us, that moment in time was the hardest part of the entire trip. 3 hours from home, in the middle of the night and no way to get home. I begged him to check into a hotel and call me the next morning and I promised we'd work things out. In my mind, I was just planning on driving to Detroit and picking him up. In his mind, he was already making plans to book another flight--no matter the cost. I thought we had a plan. I thought he'd go to sleep, but no--at 1:30 in the morning my phone rang again--I have an early morning flight to Cleveland, pick me up at the airport.
Oh my goodness, at this point, I thought the guy had left all his marbles in Congo! Go to sleep I said--go to sleep! You sound crazy! He promised he would, so we hung up and the next morning I was at the airport and picked up my nutty husband. He looked a little manic--I'm not going to lie. But, he looked so happy to finally be home. His normal 30 hours of travel time to Congo had turned into almost 60 hours of travel to get home.
Yes he has malaria, yes he has a bad cold, and yes he's extremely tired. But, he's home, and our little family is now reunited. I will take care of him, make sure he takes his meds, and make sure he sleeps.
This is the saga of traveling to Africa. It's always something, right? For us, though it isn't half as bad if we travel together. Plain and simple--we don't like being apart from each other. Maybe this will end up being his last trip to Congo, maybe not. Maybe I'll go next time--if there is a next time, maybe not. I learned that I have absolutely no control over my life or the lives of others. I've learned that God has complete control and that I have to rely on Him for all things. So, I will. I'll pray and go on living this awesome little life of mine. And for a few weeks at least, I'll savor these times with my husband. And I'll hope that for awhile--well, that he won't bring up going back to Congo until I've fully recuperated from this little excursion. Yes, I did just say that. Until I have recuperated. You see, he doesn't have to recuperate, not really, for his heart is there--in Africa, with the people of Congo. I just hope he waits awhile before going back. It's hard on me. It really is.
As I blogged earlier, my husband went to Congo again for a 2-week missions trip, this time to work on getting power to a hospital. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of him going--for lots of reasons, mostly all them extremely selfish on my part. However, I stepped aside and away he went. His excitement bugged me. Hey, I did warn you that I am honest with my thoughts. Anyway, during the 2 weeks that he was gone I tried hard to stay busy--clubs, friends, family, lunches, shopping, etc. Anything I could do to make the time go quicker--I did.
Of course, during those 2 weeks, every type of weather known to man hit the Cleveland area. We had temps in the 70's and then we had snow. We had wind gusts that sounded like my little house was going to blow down and then we had beautiful blue skies. Extreme weather at it's best. How did it affect me? Well, I had to walk our little 9-month-old puppy 5 times a day, morning, noon and night. That isn't an unusual feat for me, other than, if it's bad weather or very late at night, my husband will take over that duty. He's very helpful that way. So, imagine a crazy little puppy trying to go potty in windy snowy conditions. She was afraid of her own shadow! Around and around the block we went, she pulling and tugging at her lead, too afraid to relax and let nature take its course. Ugg. A simple doggy walk sometimes took way too long. And as I was out there in the elements walking my pup, I would proceed to get madder and madder that life, in general, was falling in on me. And then I would proceed to have myself a little pity party.
By the time 2 weeks had rolled around I was ready for the other half of this relationship to come home. I wanted someone to carry half the load of this life we had built. I was tired of going it alone. Coffee alone in the morning isn't fun for me, dinner alone every night isn't either. I noticed that I wasn't even laughing at sitcoms and also, wasn't yelling at the TV when people picked the wrong house on House Hunters. In other words, life was not fun for me. Yes, I was ready. Ready to be a couple again. I needed my other half.
And then the phone call came. Weather. Bad weather. Stormy weather in Congo had grounded their plane, and he was now going to miss all his connecting flights. As I sat on the phone listening to his troubles, huge tears began to roll down my cheeks. I had so many plans for the next few days--for us. I didn't want to do them alone--not anymore. Maybe others can relate. Maybe some can't. I know that every marriage is different. Some aren't as closely intertwined as ours. We like to do most everything together. So this was a blow to both of us.
For several hours the team tried hard to reschedule their flights. Finally, I received a text message--he'd be home 2 days late. It is what it is though, so after hanging up I had myself a good cry and tried to concentrate on praying for their safety. What he didn't tell me right then was that at first he was told he couldn't get a flight out until the following week! And also, that he had contracted malaria and was coming down with a bad cold. He didn't want to worry me. However, we don't have that kind of marriage, we tell each other everything--good or bad, we don't keep secrets. So, he wrote me a long email and filled me in on the details. After another good cry and a lot more praying I finally went to bed knowing that he would eventually make it home, just not on my time--but God's.
Thankfully I have some awesome friends who kept tabs on me--they called and prayed with me, and sent me texts and emails. My kids kept me busy, and I kept up with normal daily living. I prayed a lot. The fact that he had malaria really bothered me. The next couple of nights I had trouble sleeping and would just lay in bed and pray.
He was almost home when I received another phone call. After 4 flights, and only 1 to go--his last leg was canceled due to weather. He was stuck in Chicago. So close and yet...
There were no flights to Cleveland on any other airlines for 2 days! 2 more long days. He was done! I could hear it in his voice. It's funny how when one is down and out, the other steps in to pick up the pieces. There I sat all alone in Cleveland with him just a mere 6 hours away--talking him off the ledge (so to speak) and telling him it would all work out. He wanted to rent a car right then and drive those last 6 hours home--at night, in a snowstorm. No, I don't think so. I insisted he get a hotel room, rest up, shower and rent a car the next morning.
About an hour later my phone rang again--I'm on a plane going to Detroit. Detroit? That way I'm closer to home. His plan was to spend the night in Detroit, rent a car the next morning and drive for 3 hours and be home. It was all working out! That is when he realized that he didn't have his drivers license with him. He'd left it home--who needs a license in Congo, right? Anyway, it was just another item that might get stolen. No license, no rental car. He felt trapped. He almost sounded panicked which scared me a little.
I really believe that for both of us, that moment in time was the hardest part of the entire trip. 3 hours from home, in the middle of the night and no way to get home. I begged him to check into a hotel and call me the next morning and I promised we'd work things out. In my mind, I was just planning on driving to Detroit and picking him up. In his mind, he was already making plans to book another flight--no matter the cost. I thought we had a plan. I thought he'd go to sleep, but no--at 1:30 in the morning my phone rang again--I have an early morning flight to Cleveland, pick me up at the airport.
Oh my goodness, at this point, I thought the guy had left all his marbles in Congo! Go to sleep I said--go to sleep! You sound crazy! He promised he would, so we hung up and the next morning I was at the airport and picked up my nutty husband. He looked a little manic--I'm not going to lie. But, he looked so happy to finally be home. His normal 30 hours of travel time to Congo had turned into almost 60 hours of travel to get home.
Yes he has malaria, yes he has a bad cold, and yes he's extremely tired. But, he's home, and our little family is now reunited. I will take care of him, make sure he takes his meds, and make sure he sleeps.
This is the saga of traveling to Africa. It's always something, right? For us, though it isn't half as bad if we travel together. Plain and simple--we don't like being apart from each other. Maybe this will end up being his last trip to Congo, maybe not. Maybe I'll go next time--if there is a next time, maybe not. I learned that I have absolutely no control over my life or the lives of others. I've learned that God has complete control and that I have to rely on Him for all things. So, I will. I'll pray and go on living this awesome little life of mine. And for a few weeks at least, I'll savor these times with my husband. And I'll hope that for awhile--well, that he won't bring up going back to Congo until I've fully recuperated from this little excursion. Yes, I did just say that. Until I have recuperated. You see, he doesn't have to recuperate, not really, for his heart is there--in Africa, with the people of Congo. I just hope he waits awhile before going back. It's hard on me. It really is.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Coco Chanel # 4
There's this dog, you see. And she kinda stole my heart. I tried so hard not to let it happen. I thought to myself--I'll just like her a lot. I will hold her and hug her, feed her and walk her, train her and be good to her, but I won't love her. Nope. I am going to keep that love all bottled up for the dog I just lost. I just couldn't risk hurting that much again.
For that is how much I love my dogs and that is how much I hurt when they die.
So, for me, it was just too risky. My heart was hurting too badly to take on anything else. And yet...it happened anyway. That little bi-black sheltie pup looked into my eyes and said it first. In her own little doggie puppy way, she said it first. I love you, mom.
Now, what do I do? Not love her back? As she desperately tries to please me? As she lets me do just about anything to her--nail clipping, tail brushing, bath giving--you know all those mean things that dog moms do? When she stares at me expectantly waiting for her next command--how can I not love her?
And then it hit me. She has healed my little broken heart. She has made me--yes, made me love her. That sneaky little thing. At just 9 months old and just a mere 6 months after losing my last sheltie, this little girl has made me love her. She is the cutest, most cuddly little thing. Always licking, always jumping (hence the agility training) always by my side--she has let me know that in no uncertain terms, she will stick by me and be loyal to me and love me unconditionally. That's just the way dogs are.
They're sneaky like that. Those soft, fluffy, snuggly puppies. They worm their way in and then wind you around their little paws. How awesome is that? I didn't even see it coming.
Yes, when God creates you, makes and molds you, and you just happen to be a dog person (I realize some people aren't) I believe that he uses said dogs to teach you (me) life lessons. Lessons about love, compassion, empathy and even loss. At least that is how He works many times in my life. He works through my love of animals, most specifically dogs.
So my new pup Chanel keeps me very busy, we're in training. She also sits with me when I cry--which I tend to do a lot. She makes me laugh when I need it the most. She is the ever loyal friend. And as long as she'll have me, I'll be her ever loyal mom, loving her way past the end.
You see, I tend to love my dogs forever. God made me like that. And it's OK. It really is.
For that is how much I love my dogs and that is how much I hurt when they die.
So, for me, it was just too risky. My heart was hurting too badly to take on anything else. And yet...it happened anyway. That little bi-black sheltie pup looked into my eyes and said it first. In her own little doggie puppy way, she said it first. I love you, mom.
Now, what do I do? Not love her back? As she desperately tries to please me? As she lets me do just about anything to her--nail clipping, tail brushing, bath giving--you know all those mean things that dog moms do? When she stares at me expectantly waiting for her next command--how can I not love her?
And then it hit me. She has healed my little broken heart. She has made me--yes, made me love her. That sneaky little thing. At just 9 months old and just a mere 6 months after losing my last sheltie, this little girl has made me love her. She is the cutest, most cuddly little thing. Always licking, always jumping (hence the agility training) always by my side--she has let me know that in no uncertain terms, she will stick by me and be loyal to me and love me unconditionally. That's just the way dogs are.
They're sneaky like that. Those soft, fluffy, snuggly puppies. They worm their way in and then wind you around their little paws. How awesome is that? I didn't even see it coming.
Yes, when God creates you, makes and molds you, and you just happen to be a dog person (I realize some people aren't) I believe that he uses said dogs to teach you (me) life lessons. Lessons about love, compassion, empathy and even loss. At least that is how He works many times in my life. He works through my love of animals, most specifically dogs.
So my new pup Chanel keeps me very busy, we're in training. She also sits with me when I cry--which I tend to do a lot. She makes me laugh when I need it the most. She is the ever loyal friend. And as long as she'll have me, I'll be her ever loyal mom, loving her way past the end.
You see, I tend to love my dogs forever. God made me like that. And it's OK. It really is.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Easter Musings
While watching the news this morning it occurred to me that everyone was using the word Easter. All the newscasters were using it, and also every commercial that was broadcasted mentioned their Easter sales. Many restaurants were advertising their lovely dinners, etc. I kind of liked it.
I watched Easter services from around the globe, hearing people talk about church, even hearing the phrase--Christ is risen. Yes, I heard that too, from broadcast television. At first, I was stunned. Did they just say that on the news? Christ is risen? Huh.
I think I was so surprised because I had just become somewhat accustomed to hearing the word holiday over and over again during Christmas time. Holiday tree, holiday sales, holiday everything. And yet--the word Easter not holiday was used this morning. I'm not complaining--I'm just pondering this bit of information and trying to figure out why. Why is it so different? Why does the word Christmas offend, while the word Easter does not? I'm a little confused.
It seems that no one (at least in the secular world) wants to talk about the birth of Christ and yet everyone (at least in the secular world) talks about His resurrection. Can a person believe in one without the other? I've heard more about the resurrection of Christ via television this past week than I've heard in a long time. And I don't watch religious TV. So I am baffled.
I was told by the media et al, that all the world wants to celebrate Christmas, er, I mean holiday time. They want to share in the gift-giving, meal planning, lights, and decorations, but please do not offend them with the C word. Nope, do not even call that silly old tree a Christmas tree--it is now a holiday tree henceforth.
So, can you understand my confusion? Why is Easter so different? I do believe that Christians celebrate both equally, and so does the secular world, with Santa and the Easter bunny running neck and neck. Also noted this morning was the sale of candy--with Easter candy sales even topping those candy sales of Halloween! What?
And guess what else I found out? Most major retailers are closed today! Closed! I did find some pharmacies that are open though. I checked. However, don't you remember all the stores that were vowing to stay open on Christmas Day for those last minute shoppers? I do.
All this information is messing with my little pea brain. It's about to explode with all the questions I have swirling around inside. Why is Easter so much easier than Christmas for the world to hear about?
I wonder, is it because it contains hope? Hope that one day Christ will return for His church? Hope because He really did arise from the dead? Hope because at Christmas He was just a baby, but at Easter, He was a man--a man who could really save us? I don't know. Maybe it's just too hard for some to believe or even care about a little baby--maybe that's why they are offended by the word Christmas. I'm not sure. However, how can one be offended by the word Easter, when Christ is offering hope and life to all?
Yes, maybe that is my conclusion. Jesus who rose from the dead--is the one who saves us from death. He is our hope, our salvation, and our peace. There isn't one thing "holiday" about it.
It's Easter. And not just for Christians--it's Easter for all. Hope for all. Christ for all who believe.
Maybe the thought of hope is an easier pill to swallow. Maybe believing in a baby is just too much to ask of some.
This Easter, I will try to remember that--as I go out today for lunch with my grandkids. I will try hard to share God's love for this fallen world, I will try my hardest to be like Jesus and pray for those around me. Maybe in some small way via a smile or kind word, I can reflect the love of Christ and show them what Easter is really all about. Maybe I can give someone a little bit of hope today.
Thursday, March 24, 2016
Again Congo
I realize that I have not blogged in several weeks. I just haven't been in the mood to write. My emotions have been all over the board, up and down--ever changing. I'm not really used to that. I am usually more stable. However, these past few weeks have been hard. And good. Yes, they've been good too. That's why things have been so topsy-turvy for me. Sometimes I feel as though I am riding a roller coaster, and I hate roller coasters, I really do. I tend to like flat surfaces. Easy, steady, comfortable--you know, safe.
Yes, it's been a long few weeks for me. You see, my husband once again is in the Congo. The DRC, the continent of Africa. As I've watched him make purchases, pack his bags and talk incessantly about this trip, it's been tough--for me. Not for him. He's been so excited that it's been hard to bring him back into reality, reality being me. Because after all, isn't it always all about me? No? OK, I guess not.
So, for these past few weeks, I've tried hard to be supportive. When he told me that he wanted to go back to the Congo, back into that dangerous country, fly on old unsafe planes, stay in missionaries homes that have guard shacks, and eat foods that I can't even imagine--what was I to say? I guess I did what most spouses would do--I said, do it, go, I'll pray for you. And then behind closed doors, I cried. I didn't really want him to go. Not really. I hate the thought of him being in any kind of danger, especially when our own government suggests that we not go. But, go he did.
It's just been a few days but so much has happened that I don't even know where to begin. So, I'll start with this part. He wanted to fly through Brussels to visit our friends on his way to Africa, but alas, there were no available seats. He was so disappointed. He ended up making flight arrangements via Paris. And then look what happened that fateful horrible morning in Brussels! I was so concerned for our friends who live there, I immediately had to make sure that they were all ok, which thankfully they were. I didn't hear from my husband until a few hours later that day to even share stories with him. It seems that half their missionary team flew through Brussels and are now stranded there until tomorrow or the next day. But, at least they are all fine. Some have lost their luggage, they are all tired and wondering what will happen next, etc. My husband sounded exhausted, but at least he was able to make contact with me. I am so thankful for that.
This time around he is working on a project to bring electricity to a local hospital. Can you even imagine checking into a hospital without electricity? I can't. However, I've seen the pictures and wow, I am so grateful for where I live and the modern conveniences that I've grown up with. So very thankful for all I take for granted in this modern world. And yet for some, it's not so modern.
I've noticed that my prayers for him and the team are very different this time around. There is an urgency to these prayers of mine. It's hard to explain. I'll just have to pray as God directs me I guess. There's really nothing more that I can do than that. I realize that I have absolutely no control over what goes on in this world. All I can do is pray.
I am wondering now how many more trips there will be. Is this the last one? Or just another one of much more to come? I know where his heart is. It's with the people of Congo. He loves them. It shows in his facial expressions as he speaks of them. So why would I ever talk him out of going?
He just called. A local missionary lent him his phone. He is missing home, and although he's hot, tired, a little dehydrated--he sounded happy. They are working hard on this project. The rest of their team will hopefully be joining them in a few days. I hope they make it. I hope they get to experience what he is feeling. Joy, happiness, thankfulness and most of all obedience to his God. He is doing what God has called him to do. He is content. He is in Congo. Need I say more.
Yes, it's been a long few weeks for me. You see, my husband once again is in the Congo. The DRC, the continent of Africa. As I've watched him make purchases, pack his bags and talk incessantly about this trip, it's been tough--for me. Not for him. He's been so excited that it's been hard to bring him back into reality, reality being me. Because after all, isn't it always all about me? No? OK, I guess not.
So, for these past few weeks, I've tried hard to be supportive. When he told me that he wanted to go back to the Congo, back into that dangerous country, fly on old unsafe planes, stay in missionaries homes that have guard shacks, and eat foods that I can't even imagine--what was I to say? I guess I did what most spouses would do--I said, do it, go, I'll pray for you. And then behind closed doors, I cried. I didn't really want him to go. Not really. I hate the thought of him being in any kind of danger, especially when our own government suggests that we not go. But, go he did.
It's just been a few days but so much has happened that I don't even know where to begin. So, I'll start with this part. He wanted to fly through Brussels to visit our friends on his way to Africa, but alas, there were no available seats. He was so disappointed. He ended up making flight arrangements via Paris. And then look what happened that fateful horrible morning in Brussels! I was so concerned for our friends who live there, I immediately had to make sure that they were all ok, which thankfully they were. I didn't hear from my husband until a few hours later that day to even share stories with him. It seems that half their missionary team flew through Brussels and are now stranded there until tomorrow or the next day. But, at least they are all fine. Some have lost their luggage, they are all tired and wondering what will happen next, etc. My husband sounded exhausted, but at least he was able to make contact with me. I am so thankful for that.
This time around he is working on a project to bring electricity to a local hospital. Can you even imagine checking into a hospital without electricity? I can't. However, I've seen the pictures and wow, I am so grateful for where I live and the modern conveniences that I've grown up with. So very thankful for all I take for granted in this modern world. And yet for some, it's not so modern.
I've noticed that my prayers for him and the team are very different this time around. There is an urgency to these prayers of mine. It's hard to explain. I'll just have to pray as God directs me I guess. There's really nothing more that I can do than that. I realize that I have absolutely no control over what goes on in this world. All I can do is pray.
I am wondering now how many more trips there will be. Is this the last one? Or just another one of much more to come? I know where his heart is. It's with the people of Congo. He loves them. It shows in his facial expressions as he speaks of them. So why would I ever talk him out of going?
He just called. A local missionary lent him his phone. He is missing home, and although he's hot, tired, a little dehydrated--he sounded happy. They are working hard on this project. The rest of their team will hopefully be joining them in a few days. I hope they make it. I hope they get to experience what he is feeling. Joy, happiness, thankfulness and most of all obedience to his God. He is doing what God has called him to do. He is content. He is in Congo. Need I say more.
Thursday, February 4, 2016
My Dog Ate Your Handbag
Oh, the horror. Can you even imagine how I felt?
This is what happened. My daughter and I have a love of handbags. If you don't share the love, you won't even begin to understand what I am writing about. You have to genuinely love handbags, and not just any old handbag--I'm talking designer bags. You know, the good stuff. Why I have this affliction is beyond me. My mother didn't have it (although she does like purses) she doesn't care about the designer aspect of them. My daughter and I though--well, we are lost in handbag designer heaven. Or hell?
So, as any mother and daughter sometimes do--we decided it might be fun to swap a couple of our bags for a few months and see if we like each other's purses before investing in another handbag. Brilliant idea! As we traded, I set her handbag up on my puppies crate to use later and walked away. And that's when it happened. We had left for a few hours of shopping and fun, and when I returned home I realized that my little dog had jumped up and grabbed my daughter's handbag and had chewed the tabs on either end of the zipper, and also on a couple of other areas. I was devastated. How could that have happened? She'd never gotten anything off her crate before, was she even tall enough to reach?
I knew that I would eventually have to fess up to my daughter. So, with sweaty palms, I told her what happened. I also told her to send it to the store for repair, and that I, of course, would pay for the damages. Which, came to the tune of $425. Gulp. I couldn't believe it. So today I mailed her a check and hopefully, before long she'll have her handbag returned to her--good as new.
I guess the reason I am writing about this is twofold. One, puppies are crazy and will destroy many items if left unattended. Even if attended, they sometimes manage to damage our things (or treasures) right under our noses. I think of myself as being a darn good dog mom. I obedience train, crate, leash, socialize my dog, etc. However, sometimes stuff just happens. And two, things are things. I want to always remember that. Things are nothing more than things. This little puppy of mine brings me more joy than I am able to put into words. She makes me happy. I smile when she walks into a room. She's silly and clumsy and loving all at the same time. And what's a handbag anyway? They can be replaced (or in my case repaired) whereas my little puppy? Well, now that would be a horrific thought.
So, as I mailed the check to my daughter today, I kissed the money goodbye, gave my puppy a hug and let bygones be bygones. I will, however, keep her crate clear of any valuables.
I learned a hard lesson. And I'm OK with that. Lessons learned have value, and are sometimes costly, but never are they worthless. Mine aren't anyway. However, next time I hope they aren't so expensive, right?
No, no, bad dog!
This is what happened. My daughter and I have a love of handbags. If you don't share the love, you won't even begin to understand what I am writing about. You have to genuinely love handbags, and not just any old handbag--I'm talking designer bags. You know, the good stuff. Why I have this affliction is beyond me. My mother didn't have it (although she does like purses) she doesn't care about the designer aspect of them. My daughter and I though--well, we are lost in handbag designer heaven. Or hell?
So, as any mother and daughter sometimes do--we decided it might be fun to swap a couple of our bags for a few months and see if we like each other's purses before investing in another handbag. Brilliant idea! As we traded, I set her handbag up on my puppies crate to use later and walked away. And that's when it happened. We had left for a few hours of shopping and fun, and when I returned home I realized that my little dog had jumped up and grabbed my daughter's handbag and had chewed the tabs on either end of the zipper, and also on a couple of other areas. I was devastated. How could that have happened? She'd never gotten anything off her crate before, was she even tall enough to reach?
I knew that I would eventually have to fess up to my daughter. So, with sweaty palms, I told her what happened. I also told her to send it to the store for repair, and that I, of course, would pay for the damages. Which, came to the tune of $425. Gulp. I couldn't believe it. So today I mailed her a check and hopefully, before long she'll have her handbag returned to her--good as new.
I guess the reason I am writing about this is twofold. One, puppies are crazy and will destroy many items if left unattended. Even if attended, they sometimes manage to damage our things (or treasures) right under our noses. I think of myself as being a darn good dog mom. I obedience train, crate, leash, socialize my dog, etc. However, sometimes stuff just happens. And two, things are things. I want to always remember that. Things are nothing more than things. This little puppy of mine brings me more joy than I am able to put into words. She makes me happy. I smile when she walks into a room. She's silly and clumsy and loving all at the same time. And what's a handbag anyway? They can be replaced (or in my case repaired) whereas my little puppy? Well, now that would be a horrific thought.
So, as I mailed the check to my daughter today, I kissed the money goodbye, gave my puppy a hug and let bygones be bygones. I will, however, keep her crate clear of any valuables.
I learned a hard lesson. And I'm OK with that. Lessons learned have value, and are sometimes costly, but never are they worthless. Mine aren't anyway. However, next time I hope they aren't so expensive, right?
No, no, bad dog!
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Same Time Next Year
Do you know what I am hoping for next year? I am hoping for stability. I know that sounds a little melodramatic, however, this past year has hit me a little hard. There have been way too many changes for me. To some they might seem like simple changes, to me, they were more like life changes. And to tell you the truth, I am tired. I feel emotionally worn out and I would like for things to become simple. Quiet, calm, unchanging...am I asking for too much? Probably.
It's not going to keep me from praying that way though. I don't want anyone to die, I don't want to move, I don't want to lose another dog, and I don't want to be lonely. What I do want is this--I want lots of time with family and friends. I want to travel, and I want to play/train my new puppy. I want to eat healthily and I want the pain in my hip to subside. I'm thinking that all these things sound reasonable.
And there is one thing I know for sure, one stable thing. God has never ever failed me. Does that mean that everything will be just how I want it to be, or go just how I want it to go? No. It just means that like this year, He will walk me through all the processes of change. If there are any. Which I hope there aren't. However, you and I both know that there will be. There always is. Change. I won't be alone though, no matter what happens, no matter if I move again (gasp) or if someone I love dies, or if, if, if--God will shield me. From what? Myself. He will shield me from me. I need that more than anything. I need to realize on a moment by moment basis that He is in complete control of my life and others around me. And I need to accept those changes in my life as good things because all good things come from Him and Him alone.
So, in all my talk about stability, maybe I should be trying harder to be aware of all the work that God is doing around me. Maybe this year, I'll be more in tune with what He's doing in my life and others, and maybe just maybe by this time next year--I'll be just a little wiser. Maybe.
It's not going to keep me from praying that way though. I don't want anyone to die, I don't want to move, I don't want to lose another dog, and I don't want to be lonely. What I do want is this--I want lots of time with family and friends. I want to travel, and I want to play/train my new puppy. I want to eat healthily and I want the pain in my hip to subside. I'm thinking that all these things sound reasonable.
And there is one thing I know for sure, one stable thing. God has never ever failed me. Does that mean that everything will be just how I want it to be, or go just how I want it to go? No. It just means that like this year, He will walk me through all the processes of change. If there are any. Which I hope there aren't. However, you and I both know that there will be. There always is. Change. I won't be alone though, no matter what happens, no matter if I move again (gasp) or if someone I love dies, or if, if, if--God will shield me. From what? Myself. He will shield me from me. I need that more than anything. I need to realize on a moment by moment basis that He is in complete control of my life and others around me. And I need to accept those changes in my life as good things because all good things come from Him and Him alone.
So, in all my talk about stability, maybe I should be trying harder to be aware of all the work that God is doing around me. Maybe this year, I'll be more in tune with what He's doing in my life and others, and maybe just maybe by this time next year--I'll be just a little wiser. Maybe.
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