I waited twenty three years

I met my sister in a hospital delivery room. Ironically, it was me in the bed, waiting to give birth.
Yep, laying in a hospital bed with one of those fashionable open to the back gowns, connected to an IV pole & a baby monitor was, in my brother's mind, the optimal time to finally let me meet this new girl he had been dating.
As weird as it was for me, my mind was a little preoccupied but that poor 17yrs old girl who walked into my room was a little more than weirded out. Perhaps it wasn't one of my brother's best choices but it has given us both a story to tell of a relationship I had waited 23yrs to begin. A relationship typified by meeting in a hospital delivery room for the first time.
Having grown up with two brothers & hanging out with predominately guys my whole life, the hole that had existed was quickly filled by this equally tomboyish, no drama or frills, female who instantly became the sister I had been waiting for.
That day, she became known as Aunt ReeRee as my children would have to call her something, right?
Fifteen years of memories swirl in my mind & bleed over into one another but as I was on my way to her house yesterday for our annual sister day, the one day a year these two non-shoppers shop for everything Christmas, the recent memories made overwhelmed me. I cried all the way to her house, a fact I'm sure she was aware of from the streaks of missing makeup when I walked through the door.
My sister loves her family so much that this fall she rearranged her entire schedule to fill in, as needed, with a grandmother who loved her & prayed for her by name, even before she knew what that name was. Sister spent every day she had off providing relief & care to someone, that by today's standards, she didn't have to, a grandmother-in-law.  She would work all day on Mondays then spend each Monday evening with gma, doing a bible study with her, trying to glean all the wisdom she could fit in before we would have to say goodbye. Really though, she was NEVER a granddaughter-in-law, but a granddaughter by all meanings of the word.
As I drove to her house yesterday, I cried because I missed gma. I cried because I wanted to pick up the phone & call her & hear her calming reassurance. Then I cried because I realized that God had given me someone who shared similar experiences this fall & whose heart was broken, just like mine. I cried because I knew as soon as I saw my sister, there would be a peace, a comfort in being with someone who understood where I was because she was there too. I cried because I knew she would talk about gma with me & we would laugh about the snarky things she would say. I cried because I know she'll do it all over again with me when the time comes.
She is my sister. And she was worth the wait.

Today I realized - I don't really like my kids

When I was a little girl, I had one real dream. There was only ever one thing I wanted to do - be a stay at home mom, just like my momma. With four children & the opportunity to homeschool, that dream has come to pass. I hear all the time - I don't know how you do it, I don't have the patience. But what those people don't know is - NEITHER DO I!
Spending all day, day in & day out, with your children causes even the smallest of things to grate on your nerves, at times, like nails on a chalkboard. Add to that a little bit of defiance & a whole lot of disobedience & you have a recipe for a complete & total meltdown.
(Now, before you get this picture of my kids that paints them as little heathens running around all the time with war paint & feathers in their caps, know that we have a very high standard. Still, as all children do, they take advantage of every opportunity they can to push the boundaries & make sure they're still in place.)
Tuesday was my meltdown. Upon arriving to biology, a 20 minute drive from home, it was discovered that, "I forgot my folder (of stuff that was due today) on my bed (AT HOME!)." Forgetfulness & distractions with this particular child are over the top right now but that's a different blog for a different day. What was I to do? Let him take 5 zeroes in a class he's already struggling in? No.
The tears began in the parking lot before the car was even in reverse. "I can't take anymore of this! I hate it. I don't like y'all very much. And I don't even want to be around you." I sobbed as I flipped on the blinker after safely depositing the bio kid.
I fumbled for the cord to connect my phone & escape in my music. My mind kept mulling over & over all of the times my children would say that they loved me then turn around & treat me like they had. I thought about the times when they would sneak YouTube videos instead of the book they were supposed to be reading or that paper they were supposed to be typing. I thought about all the undone chores I would complete & the broken toilet seat from standing on it. I thought about the piles of laundry diligently folded only to end up on their bedroom floors. I thought about arguing & fighting over who's bracelet that was, even though it came out of the dumpster at church. I thought about my newly ordered, never used, now broken Tardis coffee mug. No wonder I didn't like them.
As the tears kept falling & the music kept playing, "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" began with a soft piano playing. In a time when I didn't think I could cry any harder, my shoulders began heaving as I heard a voice begin to speak.
(Great is Thy Faithfulness, O God, my Father. There is no shadow of turning with Thee. Thou changest not; Thy compassions, they fail not. As thou hast been, Thou forever will be.)
"My children do the same thing to Me. But you're really nothing like Me, ya know? You want what's best for them but when your children are disobedient & defiant, what's the first thing you want to do? Run away. You allow their behavior to dictate your own so much that right now, you're really nothing like Me. I want you to be more like Me. Let Me show you how."
And there it was. My analysis of my pity party & the truth I needed to hear all in one. As He often does, God was using my children (& their behavior) to show me what I needed to change. The truth is my current state of martyrdom is laced with impatience, mood swings, very little compassion & a lack of self discipline. As equally as my children's behavior failed to reflect God's character, so did my own.
Desperately needing a break, I spent that afternoon with momma at gma's house. I sat on the floor in front of gma's chair like I had countless times before only this time it was my momma that sat in that chair & listened to me. And cried with me. And reminded me, again, of God's faithfulness.
For my children, reflecting God's faithfulness and mercy means a zero tolerance policy & strict discipline right now. Just as God has done countless times for His own children, Jesus reminds us that He disciplines those He loves. In doing so, He saves them from themselves. Discipline is an act of mercy. So I HAVE TO step up the discipline as an act of love before they get out of hand & fall further into this trap of sneakiness, disobedience & defiance. No more yelling. No more pity parties over having to be the one to do this. No more martyrdom. This is part of my job, my dream job, even though it's the part I hate the most.
For me, God's faithfulness looked a little different than I thought it would after my revelation that morning as my 19yr old pulled me aside before he went to bed with tears in his eyes - "Mom, I heard what you said to Mawmaw today. It was hard for me to listen to you tell her that you're not like God at all. I honestly wanted to run over & shake you. I've had a lot of time the past few weeks to think about some things & one of the things I've thought about is you & dad. How I wouldn't have asked for any other parents. How if I could have picked my own, I would have picked you & dad. You are more like God than you think you are."
As it turns out, I don't like 3 of my children very much right now. And that's ok. Because of the discipline that must follow, they aren't going to like me either. But just like with the oldest, I love them always. I discipline them because I love them.
So that night, after a broken heart, not only the result of my children's actions, but also of my own, God used my oldest to remind me how great His faithfulness is because he sees me for who I long to be. And because he was once their age too.

A different kind of thankfulness

This morning my car wouldn't start. Yep, the day before Thanksgiving with errands to run, I woke up early to get to town & back before the crowds. But there it was, another reminder of just how much fun life is right now. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty to be thankful for but it's become increasingly difficult over the past few weeks to gaze into the darkness & look for the light, any light.
This isn't me. This isn't who I am, who I've always been. I used to think I was a pragmatist, seeing things in a very practical way so as not to make them more than what they are. I'm definitely not a pessimist, that much is true. But I never viewed myself as much of an optimist either. It's become apparent to me that perhaps what I have always been would be best described as a hope-timist.
As life has rolled on, I would see things as they were but could ALWAYS see Hope in any situation. I could easily spot God's goodness & find rest there. But with life changing so fast, in so many unpleasant ways, that Hope I had always spotted seemed almost like a dream of years gone by, becoming harder & harder to spot as the days roll on.
I picked up the phone & called daddy. "Yes, it seems as though the battery is bad.....Yes, you can use mom's car when she gets back." But then, the plan suddenly changed. I would ride with momma to gma's house, take her car while she took gma to the Dr in gma's van, then come back to pick her up. There it was in a tiny measure - Hope.
But then as I knelt down beside her van to lift gma's legs to get her safely seated, my hope was dashed again. The long term steroid treatment for the pneumonia has caused a dramatic change in not only her appearance but also her physical abilities. I gently cupped her foot and carefully placed it inside the van. Flashbacks of the journey recently traveled flooded my mind, then my eyes. I don't want to do this again. I'm just not ready.
I cried all the way to town but found solace when "Be Still My Soul" began to play over the radio. I listened, NO REALLY LISTENED, to the words this time like never before. 

"Be still my soul, the Lord is on your side. Bear patiently the cross of grief and pain." Oh man, the cross of grief and pain - check! I've got that one down pat! The whirlwind of storms that are raging right now, threatening with every wave to draw me under, are my present, everyday, every moment reality. I'm bearing it buddy. That Hope that I've always seen, I've always heard beckoning to me, is being drown out by even the simplest of things at this point. An overflowing toilet caused me to have a sobbing-so-badly-you-can't-catch-your-breath breakdown Monday. Right now, I'm not bearing much patiently either. I want this grieving thing to be over. I want to move on to the happy, fluffy clouds and cute bunnies part of life - like yesterday!

"Leave to thy God to order and provide, in EVERY change he faithful will remain." There is no doubt that life is changing. At 38yrs old, I have found myself in roles that I never would have envisioned, doing things I never wanted to do. At times I feel more like a fourth daughter than a granddaughter. Recently walking one gma right up to the finish line through the loss of her physical, mental and emotional abilities has left me with memories - some pleasant that I would not change for anything, but others that bring back floods of tears for the things that we had to do for her, to her. The yelling, the hitting, the accusations were only temporary but their memory drowns out my hope sometimes. I'm in a place now where I'm pumping myself up to face it again, sooner than I would like. That drowns out my hope too. Still, I am disciplining myself now to intentionally look for God's goodness, His order, His provision, his faithfulness when mine is waning. The beautiful fall leaves changing. The phone call made at the perfect, God ordered, time this morning. The opportunity to humbly and lovingly lift gma's feet today. God is so faithful through it all, even if it's harder for me to see it at times.

"Be still my soul, your best, your heavenly Friend. Through stormy waves leads to a joyful end." To be completely honest, I've started this particular blog over six times in two weeks. I realized this morning why. I'm not looking forward to tomorrow at all. Thanksgiving has ALWAYS been my favorite holiday. Because of my Hope-timist personality, I've found it rather simple to ALWAYS find something to be thankful for but this year I'm struggling. Yes, I'm thankful for a house and food and transportation, but that's not the sum total of what I've typically thankful for. With stormy waves crashing all around me, my focus has been broken. My gaze has been set into the darkness, wanting, praying, begging for a light. Yet week after week, I've continued faking right along that everything is ok, that I'm ok. But I'm not. 

Like medicine to my soul, my friend Stacey sent me a blog a few weeks ago though. I've referred back to it many times, probably more than any other blog I've read. SheReadsTruth had a blog series about hymns. "Be Still My Soul" was one of those. (http://shereadstruth.com/2015/11/11/be-still-my-soul/) It was through that blog that I learned, "Even in the most joyful tones of life, as in music, the space between the notes is just as important as the notes themselves......If space is a kind of loss, the comfort of the stanza is this: like notes on a page, we ought submit ourselves to receive the notes themselves (like joy) and the space between the notes (like loss) before God." Loss. That's all I've been able to focus on lately. Bearing that cross of grief and pain. And the idea of submitting or turning myself over for anything, especially more pain & grief, right now is simply overwhelming. (Did I tell you that I don't want to do this again?????)

But it was the end of the version of "Be Still My Soul" that caught me up short. Selah ends their version with the end of the first verse from "What A Friend We Have In Jesus" - "Oh what peace we often forfeit. Oh what needless pain we bear. All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer." This is my storm, my pain, my grief. I don't want to share with anyone. I've been bobbing in these storms for weeks, virtually alone, isolating myself, by choice, because I am afraid of what is coming next, be it small and simple or completely life altering. I am afraid that I'll never be able to just see God's goodness when I look around like I used to. I'm afraid I will have to be disciplined to do this for a long time to come. I'm afraid that this is the new me, serious and melancholy. And I don't like this me. I'm weary already. But then - 

Be still my soul, the Lord is on your side. Look at the peace you're forfeiting. Look at the needless pain you're bearing. All because you refuse to carry everything to God in prayer. I know now what I must do.

Today, I am truly thankful for a car that wouldn't start. I'm thankful for precious moments with gma and the awesome privilege of walking her through this new journey. I'm thankful for the yelling out, the hitting, the accusations because they all made gma more real to me. They helped me realize the depth of love that I had for her, a love that will always remain, like my faithful Friend. I'm trying to be thankful for the spaces. But I am thankful for a life that isn't easy because it causes me to grow. I'm thankful that I'm not who I used to be as much as I'm thankful that He's not done with me yet. I'm thankful that the stormy waves truly do lead to a joyful end.

Thank you Jesus.

Thank you Jesus for Hope.

Learning life's most precious lessons

Tonight there is a tiny twinge of anxiousness at our house. No, the kids are fine. It's me.
This year marks the fifteenth year we've been homeschooling. Surely in those fifteen years I've gotten things down to a fine science of routine & discipline, right? No. Just as each child is different, each year has presented new challenges & opportunities. This year it was "How does school work when you're caregiving?" The answer I've come up with is "One day at a time".
We've always waited until after Labor Day to start our formal educating periods. (I'm pretty sure it's the rebel in me.) This year, that day fell much later than usual, the latest it possibly could, September 8. Because of the whirlwind of activity in August, I wasn't as prepared as I typically am. Missing workbooks & a lack of supplies took its toll on our glorious beginning. Football season was in full swing, which also caused us to have setbacks.
Many of our days were spent running from this outside class to that, checking on gma, yelling & crying about completing work during the precious few hours I had with my children, then ending with football practice for our middle guy with the two youngest in the care of their oldest brother until dad could get home while I was with gma & momma. Distractions were at a premium. We muddled through, each miserable in our own right, five weeks of work. Then there was October.
October changed everything. There was this one week, the week of October 4. My aunt started chemo that week. My cousin's little guy got sick. That Wednesday stands out as the day everything changed. It was the last day my kids got any schoolwork done.
I had hit rock bottom. The overwhelming responsibility I have as their sole educator engulfed me. I can't tell you how many times I simply broke down in hopeless despair that my children, you know, the ones I stay at home for, were getting the short end of the stick.
But it was also the day momma had issued an ultimatum - Go have tea with Susan or I'll call her for you myself.
You see, God placed Susan in my life six years ago in my Bible study small group. It was my first year there. I was in a place that I desperately needed to learn to trust people again. For Susan, it was the year they pulled their girls out of school to homeschool AND the year her father passed away. She, along with her mom, were his primary caregivers. Our friendship quickly grew.
When you homeschool, people watch you very closely. Because of this, there is an added pressure to perform. If anyone knew what I was struggling with in this school year, it was her. So I relented. I had basically begged her for our Wednesday morning tea time at McDonald's.
That morning she sat with me, listened to my concerns, cried with me, loved on me then gently placed her hand on mine & spoke one word - Stop. Stop trying to perform. Stop trying to do it all. Stop trying to live as if life is normal right now. She told me about days, even weeks, when they would just pile up in the bed to enjoy each other & watch movies together. She reminded me that the education her girls got during that time could never be rivaled by any book learning they could have done. I know her two precious girls & I can vouch for the fact that they are both amazing young ladies who are full of love & compassion rarely seen in young ladies their age. They didn't suffer at all academically for the time they chose to just live life. Then she referenced a verse from Joel about God restoring the years the locusts striped away. And that was it. That was what I had so desperately needed to hear. The tears faded away, the clouds of doom began to part & hope began to grow deep inside me.
I listened to Joel 2 on the way to my aunt's house that afternoon. The absolute destruction God's people faced could only be restored by a gracious & compassionate God who is slow to anger & abounds in love. He saw their situation & he took pity on them. He would send them not just enough, but enough to satisfy them FULLY. They never need to be ashamed again.
We put the schoolwork away that afternoon. We enjoyed every single second we could learning life lessons over the next two and a half weeks. We spent every moment we could with the great grandmother who lived next door that my children have never known life without. I regret NOTHING! Just as God used that time in my life to shape who I am, he will use it in their lives too, in who they will become.
So after two weeks of a break from everything following gma's victorious finish, we will start formal schooling again tomorrow. I know there will be bumps. I know there will be kinks. It will be almost like our first day of 2015.
But true to his character, Saturday morning as I sat on the floor in a room full of women who are far more godly than I, he gave me something more. Something to satisfy me until I was full. As I listened to them tell God who he had been in their lives that week, I heard one word - Teacher. All of the things I've learned since July, all of the lessons so diligently taught - he was teaching my children then too. So tonight as I log off, I will take hold of that Teacher's hand with the calm reassurance that tomorrow morning & in the mornings that follow, I will merely facilitate that teaching. He's taught their hearts, now I will assist in the progress of their minds.

What every caregiver wants to tell you

Every once in a while I'll jot my thoughts down without any spiritual lesson, no neat bow, as you would, to tie things up. Feel free to act on whatever lesson you learn after reading this blog because there will be none applied. Please know that this is NOT the result of any conversations I've had. I've been mulling some of it over for a while.

Caregiving has been the hardest journey I've faced in my life. It was harder than pregnancy and childbirth. It was harder than parenting has been. It was even harder than maintaining a somewhat happy marriage. (*wink wink*) (I love you honey!)
I joked a few times about needing a book like "Caregiving for Dummies" to walk us through the little ins & outs of our journey. From things like "Call this agency for (this)" down to the simplest of things like "Dasani lemon water is NOT sweet and therefore does not upset the stomach in times when taste buds have changed. It will act as an excellent mucus cutter." There are plenty of other personal hygiene & medical tips for a book like this but perhaps what caregivers would need the most would be the last chapter. It would probably be entitled - Top Ten Things A Caregiver NEEDS You To Know. So with that, entertain me a while.

10. Telling me you send thoughts and prayers is awesome but it's acts of kindness that speak to my soul. Please, don't misunderstand this. A caregiver NEEDS to hear that you're thinking about and/or praying for them. These words WILL strengthen them. BUT if you really want to meet them where they are, make them dinner, rake their yard, set a lunch date, call and just listen. (Without the countless dinners brought by momma & daddy's Sunday School class, we would not have eaten many a lunch or dinner the past few months.)
9. Don't ask how I'm doing if you don't want me to answer honestly or take the time to listen to my reply. Caregivers have little to no reserved energy. NEVER expect them to simply give you an answer to placate to your flippant "How ya doing?" Then once they've expended the little energy they have answering your question, blowing them off hurts more than walking their journey alone. Remember a simple smile or hug says more than your words can at times.
8. Do NOT say anything about my weight. Yes, the truth is I've lost/gained A LOT of weight but I was trying to survive. I'm conscious of it already & you pointing it out is like rubbing salt in the wound. A diet of M&Ms & string cheese is not typical for me. So know I'm working on it now. Thanks.
7. There are times I just can't engage. Please don't take it personally when I can't pick up the phone to talk or find the clarity to text. It's not that I mean to be offensive. It's not that I'm not thankful. I'm not even angry with you. There are times it takes all my strength to breathe. I'll get back to you once I've figured out how to do that again.
6. I feel like I just finished a marathon. I'm exhausted in every way. Yes, I'm sleeping. I'm sleeping a lot. Some of it is time made up for sleepless nights but some of it is attempting to cope. My physical, mental, emotional and spiritual person is the most fatigued I've ever been in my life. Don't expect me to just pull up my boot straps or put my big girl panties on. I don't have the energy to find either right now.
5. I need to get away. Ok, so while we're being honest there are times I don't answer because I need to escape from this place. There are reminders all around me - a dirty house, laundry piled high, my loved one's dishes brought home to wash - that someone I love is gone. I can not be here right now. Not physically, not mentally, not emotionally. I am hiding sometimes.
4. I will randomly burst into tears. The people at the grocery store seem most alarmed by this one. No, I don't need or want you to do anything. No, please don't touch me unless I initiate the contact. I'm going to cry. I'll do it when I'm happy or when I'm sad. I'll do it when I hear that song or smell that smell. I'll do it when I think, "Oh, my loved one is out of (this). I'll pick it up while I'm here at the grocery store." (Personally, for me, making coffee is the worst. I don't drink it, never have. But I learned how to make it for gma at the beginning of our journey. I could never make coffee again & be just fine.)
3. My world just ended. Ya, that sounds a little melodramatic but hear me out. As a caregiver, my life at home stopped x number of weeks/months ago. My whole world has been consumed with providing hands on care and thinking forward to what is needed or needs to be done for my loved one. While everyone else's world kept spinning, mine was paused. This new world I've been living in for (however long) just ended. It's going to take me a while to learn to live in my old world again.
2. I feel lost. For me, every evening is the worst as it was the consistent time frame that I spent caregiving. Don't get me wrong, there were days in the mix and short trips to find out how each day was going too but evenings were our special time together. My routine is now suddenly gone. What am I to do? I know what I can do. I know what I should do. See #4 again.
1. I am trying. I really am. The number one thing you can do as the family member or friend of a caregiver is be patient. Understand that they really don't understand the place that they're in either. They don't know why they're crying....again. They see the sun & they want to get back out into it but they're afraid. They're afraid that moving on with life means forgetting where they've been, what they've learned, the way things smelled, the way her hand felt. Everyday I do a little more. Everyday I cry a little less. But know that this has forever changed who I am. And while I'm grieving,  I'm trying to get to know me again. It's going to take me a little while but I'll rejoin you as soon as I can. For now, though, if you really love me, love me until I can return.

When we could carry her no more

As hard as the past few months have been, this morning was equally as joyful. In giving love & care to gma, there were some sensitive personal things the men in our lives just couldn't do. They wanted to help and they did in every way they could from fixing dinners & doing double duty at home to grocery shopping & football practice runs. But when it came to literal hands on care, it was momma, my aunts, sister, cousins, Ms Kristy, Michelle and myself.
This morning though, this morning it was the men in Mawmaw's life that carried her tent to its final resting place. When God determined that our turn was over, their turn for hands on care began.
From daddy's nights spent on an air mattress so that momma didn't have to be alone to Uncle Randall's alertness & gentleness in loving my own son through the service. From Josh's amazing eulogy and encouragement that both honored gma AND glorified God to Brian's willingness to lead a worship service like few I've been a part of.
Then at the end, we watched with tears of sadness, amazement, and gratitude as those that had been in the shadows for so long took hold and carried gma the rest of the way. Brian, Caleb, Mike, Jeff, Kendall and Brian gently took hold of the simple, beautiful casket and carried her when we could no longer.
But each of these men have not only carried gma for the past 13wks, they have carried each of us as well through their sacrifices, though they may not have realized it at the time. THAT is love.
Gma often reminded us girls of the verses in Ephesians about submission. Today though, I watched as these men lived out the self sacrificing love the next few verses address for everyone to see.
These amazing men are our protectors, our best friends, our shoulders to cry on, our embrace when we can't take one more step. They smile with us, love with us, cry with us, grieve with us. They will continue to carry us.
For each of them, I could never be thankful enough.

Grief is not a bandaid

To be quite honest with you, last night as I laid in bed, I wondered if I'd ever have the desire to write again. I wondered if the events of the day would affect me to the point that even writing would bring no release, no satisfaction. Life changed yesterday at 537am, a time that will forever be stamped on my mind's eye. I can still see the red numbers on the DVR box as clearly as if I was looking at it now.
537am was the time I got the call. The call I had been dreading for weeks. The call that announced that gma had won her race.
The house phone (yes, we still have one of those because we live in the sticks) has spent its nights tucked away, between my pillow & Brian's for at least a week. With its early morning ring, I knew exactly what to expect on the other end. And yet oddly, the first thought that crossed my mind was, "No regrets. You've lived the past 13 weeks with no regrets." It was no doubt God's comforting voice speaking to me.
I answered. Momma was sobbing. I knew & simply relied, "I'm on my way." I slipped my worn out rubber boots on, reached for the first flashlight I could find, and walked out the back door. Poor Brian was still trying to get dressed as he chased me outside, "Hey, do you want me to come?" "Please."
We walked in silence through the field to gma's. I diligently placed one foot in front of the other as I made my way up the stairs & into the house. I could hear the hymns playing on the cd player, the same ones momma, Erin & I had sung to her the night before. I peeked around the bedroom doorframe, as I have many times over the past 13 weeks. My momma was there, crying. I heard my daddy sniffle, a sound I've heard very few times in my life. I took a step back to compose myself again.
Apparently they saw us. I was in no hurry. Momma needed her time alone. Daddy stepped out a few minutes later & said, "You can come in." Daddy pointed me to the chair beside momma and so I sat down. We listened as she heartbreakingly went through each time she had gotten up during the night. She had given gma medicine at this time & that, almost as if she felt the need to give me a nurse's report. I listened and nodded. She had read from Psalms at 1030 and 230 when gma was fretful. The overpowering authority in God's words had calmed gma during those moments.
I anxiously listened as momma drew closer to the current time. Had God answered my prayer that momma not be in the room at the time? Would she have to live with the memory of that last gasp of air for the rest of her life? Did she have to watch gma struggle to the finish line even more?
She had checked on gma at 510 and had gone to attempt to figure out the day. At 525 she returned to her vigilant post. In God's mercy & grace, he indeed spared my momma from those memories as Jesus had taken gma's hand, just as momma let go, and walked her home. I imagine it was a lot the same way he did Enoch. "You've come so far, let's go on to My house this time."
Honestly for me to tell you about the rest of the morning, it would require me writing a book. The graciousness of God in allowing Laura to literally guide the funeral home to the house, insuring she would get to see gma before she was gone. The graciousness of the funeral directors in not covering her face as she left that house one more time. She was my gma, not just a body they had come to retrieve. My daddy wrapping his arms around me as I tried to busy myself by washing the sheets and doing the dishes. I'm sure no one else knew what to do with me at that point. I just needed to do something. The alertness of my family when my brother got home from work so that I could run to meet my son who works the same shift.
Then there were my babies. I would have to tell them that life had changed. And so, I did. After some time, their response was, "Can we go over there?" With no one in the house, I knew this was the time we needed. We piled up in that creaky, striped down hospital bed and Brian thanked God for Gigi. He thanked God for her unconditional love for us. He thanked God that because of Gigi we know him more. That was what they needed.
I cried myself to sleep on that bed a few minutes later. That was what I needed. Then I waited for the furniture man to come gather the things. The sound of that unplugged oxygen machine was deafening. He was so gracious when he got there though. He could tell I was holding it together as best I could. Every question was answered with a gentle, "Yes ma'am." or "No ma'am. You're fine."
I intentionally fell asleep before dark as the dread of an evening without my routine drew near. I texted Aunt Birdie at 8 with a simple "I love you" which spurred a two hour conversation sitting on gma's front porch as both of us felt lost.
Today, I've managed to walk from my bed to the lazy boy and back countless times. Drifting listlessly. As the evening drew near, momma texted to ask what I was doing. She & daddy were out walking between the four houses. I again slipped my boots on & walked out the backdoor. Together we walked aimlessly around, talking & crying some more. When we were ready, we walked through the backdoor together. There were phone calls still to be made that only gma had numbers for. The front porch light had burned out during the night. There were a few things I needed to grab from the fridge. Then, we locked the doorknob and walked out. We had done it. We had made it back into the house & then back out before the darkness set in. That was also exactly what we needed.
Over the past 36 hours, I've come to hate how I can be perfectly ok one moment and sobbing the next. Strong, then oh so very weak. But this is the way that grieving works. It's not a bandaid we can put on to cover those sudden outbursts of emotions we feel. Nor is it something we can rip off quickly so that the sting is momentary.
Life has changed. I asked my friend today what a care giver is supposed to do when there is no care left to give. This is it. Grieve. Mourn. Sing. Be thankful. Cry. Sleep. The lostness I feel each evening will wain with time. Very slowly, bit by bit, we will do exactly what we feel we can for the day, no more, no less. We are just as dependent on God's faithfulness & strength as we were when we began this journey. He has given us exactly what we needed for each moment and will continue to do so. We will laugh together & tell stories of gma. We will cry together. We will read the online guest book together & marvel at the common thread of "Lived her life for Jesus" in every post. We will take each step in faith that the Love that has never failed us before will not fail us yet.
Know that we cherish each word taken before the throne on our behalf as we live out the groaning in Romans 8. Please don't feel the need to ask me if I'm ok though. The resounding answer in my soul is no and yes. I reminded my kids Sunday that the second gift God gave us was a family. And mine is pretty awesome. None of us are ok. And we won't be for a while. But at least we're not ok together.

We will carry you there

One of the things I've enjoyed doing for myself is running. I'm not setting out to win any marathons, it's only recreational. Honestly though, it's always been more than that. It's an escape. I don't have to think about what chore needs to be done next. There's no one asking me questions. My playlist is customized to whatever I need to hear that day.
But always when I run, I hit a proverbial wall little more than halfway through. I have two options at this point - push through or take it easy. If you know me, you know there's very little take it easy about me. So push is the only real option.
When I would reach that push point, my body would take over, even if it was just going through the motions. Shortly after that, there was a euphoria I felt as my body released the adrenaline & endorphins I needed to reach the end. And I would finish, victoriously.
Thirteen weeks ago our family set out on a new marathon. Caring for gma has been a race that none of us have thoroughly enjoyed to be quite honest. Watching her slowly slip away has caused a litany of emotions none of us had experienced to this degree for this amount of time. There have been plenty of times we needed a push from each other and the voices of those who have cheered us on from a distance. But this is not our race, it is gma's. We are her supporters.
Things took a definite turn last Thursday. Sitting here today, I can tell you I couldn't have imagined being in this place. Gma, the gma we know, is now gone to us. She is now blind. Her body remains, struggling for each breath she takes in, but for the most part it is simply the mechanics of life we are now watching. And for that, our hearts grieve.
But something amazing happened, at least for me, last night. We've attempted to keep as much routine as possible for her. Sunday morning when she was moaning, I asked her who she was talking to, she said, "Chrissy." I said, "Oh. Yes, Chrissy comes on Mondays to do bible study with you." She replied, "And Krista."
So last night, because she still hears us,  Chrissy and Krista opened their bibles & read to her. Mike had brought dinner & we were all there. Ever since gma moved 12yrs ago, my family has done every birthday, every family dinner with momma & daddy at gma's so she could be a part. Last night felt oddly "normal".
Then after everyone left, when it was just momma, daddy, Mike & I, momma & I set about getting her "ready for bed". We've ended every night with momma sitting on the left side of the bed, I on the right, holding her hands & saying our goodnights. (Sounds a little Walton-ish, doesn't it?) I was completely taken by surprise when momma began talking. She sounded so upbeat, so happy after such a emotionally draining day.
"Momma, it was such a beautiful day today. Everyone is doing so well..." I listened as my momma went through the entire list of family members & recounted the highlights of God's faithfulness. (which I can share with them independently) "....and Jeffrey starts work in the morning. Momma! God have him a job! So see momma? God's answered your prayers. It is ok. We're going to be ok. God is taking care of us. So you can go home & rest now. You can talk to Jesus face to face. You can tell daddy all about us and hold those babies you never got to hold. Momma, it's ok." Then without so much as a break in her voice, my momma said, "I love you momma." and gma smiled. Of course I was sobbing uncontrollably by this time. I took a very long deep breath and said, "I love you Mawmaw." She smiled again.
Then as if someone had opened a window, the fog was cleared. The heaviness was gone. There was a peace, the peace I've been so anxiously awaiting & anticipating.  Now it was the peace that was overwhelming me.
I've never felt anything like that before. Ever. No words I type would ever be able to express to you how very deeply and widely I felt it. None.
This morning I sat on her bed and took her hand once again, "Mawmaw, can you see it?" I asked with great anticipation. "I can see it. I can see the finish line! You're almost there. We're going to hold your hands and carry you right up to Jesus. Then when we let go, He's going to take your hands and carry you the rest of the way. We're right here with you." I know she heard me. She moaned again.
As I look at the familiar face in that bed, I see my gma, blind & confined to a bed. But when I close my eyes, I see her open her eyes again to the sight of the Savior she lived her life for. I see her dancing. I can see her singing.
It is with great honor I will carry her through until her race is done. I don't know why my momma & my aunts deemed me so worthy of this honor. I'll never be able to tell them thank you enough for all I've learned or the precious memories they've allowed me to have. So together, we will all carry her victoriously right up to the finish line where her Jesus is waiting.

A legacy of lasts and laughter

Last night was perhaps the hardest night so far in the journey God is guiding us through. By 2am I could still not find the sleep I so desperately needed. I'm not really sure how long I laid in bed waiting, just waiting. My mind wouldn't let me sleep because I knew the sooner I slept the sooner the possibility of that early morning phone call would come. The phone call I had been dreading so much. I woke several times & sat straight up in the bed, sure I had heard the creak of gma's bed. I know I heard her call my name once. But I didn't. How could I? I was in my bed and she was a football field away.
The morning finally came & Brian just held me tightly as I cried, still unsure of how the morning would unfold. My heart sank when my phone buzzed at me. I rolled over & read the words "She's still asleep" at 9am.
I've thought over the past few months how truly fragile life is. We treat it oh so flippantly. Each night our fear takes over as we each dread leaving, knowing that smile, that prayer whispered in our ear could be the last.
With babies we celebrate every first that they have. The first smile. The first roll. The first step. In my strange family, even the first poo-poo in the potty has been celebrated with a call to daddy & Mawmaw.
Yet even with my babies, there has been the sting of each last. The last time they need help bathing. The last time they sleep with their favorite night-night. The last time I heard my little boys voices as puberty hit.
It's been two weeks since gma had a shower. I rushed through my errands that morning & got back to her house at 945 but it was still too late. She & momma had already done it as the plans for the day had changed. Even that night momma said something to me about wondering if that would be the last and the hurt her heart felt at the realization. It was indeed the last.
But even as we find ourselves in a season of lasts, there is laughter. The snarky grey headed woman in that bed finds it funny when we jump at her every move. She lays there with her eyes closed most of the time now, with a smile on her face, repeating the words, "Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus." Then she says, "More ice..." and squishes her mouth at you so all you can do is laugh with tears streaming down your face.
Her thoughts get crossed between the time they leave her brain and reach her mouth but she ALWAYS goes back to her default - Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus. Thank you Jesus. Soon, there will be a last time I hear those sweet words with that voice. Soon her voice, to my ears, will be silent.
I would be lying if I told you there wasn't a sense of dread to that statement. As hard as it is to see her like this, to know we've each prayed for a relief to her suffering, it is equally hard to know that when the relief comes, she will be gone to us.
BUT that's not the only sense I have right now either. There is also a sense of anticipation of the complete peace & joy that will come. Maybe not immediately. Maybe not even for days or weeks to come. But it is coming & I know it. That is how God is sustaining me for now.
So as I take each long stride on the short walk from her house to mine, wondering if this time will be the last, I will remember her words to me last night, "I'm not done with the race yet. I will run and keep fighting." I will keep in mind that the last time my ears hear her say, "Thank you Jesus" will be immediately before He hears them in person for the first time and gives her her crown of glory to top that beautiful grey hair. And that is what we will celebrate. 
That is her legacy.

It's not going to be ok

Perhaps one of the greatest lessons I learned as an adult was as a young minister's wife. It was my first year to direct Vacation Bible School & the weekend before we were in full on decorating mode. I spent a lot of time that weekend with a dear woman who was about my momma's age & had just the summer before buried her only child. Being a natural listener, I spent most of that weekend silent, gleaning all the wisdom that I could.
She talked about her son & I eagerly listened. I too was the mother of an only son at the time. She talked about the happy times & plans that they had had for his future. She talked about the horrible bacteria that invaded his brain & body in such a short time. She talked about the whirlwind days that followed & the outpouring of love she & her husband experienced. And it was then that she cautioned me, "Never tell someone you understand what they're going through. Every circumstance is different & while you maybe able to identify with them to a degree, no loss is ever the same. I find myself wanting to tell people that share how much it hurt when they lost their mother, father, brother, that they have no idea what I'm going through. They just don't know."
I took her words to heart & to this day have never once uttered the words, "I understand." to anyone, in any circumstance. I've thought about all the platitudes we offer when perhaps it is just best to remain silent. "They're in a better place" and "You'll be together again one day" are things we say when we just don't know what to say. But my most hated platitude is "It will be ok".
"It will be ok" implies that you have some foreknowledge of what the future holds. It implies that the current suffering is supposed to be somewhat less because it will soon end. It implies that the loss that will be incurred won't forever leave a scar on the heart of the one standing before you in tears. It implies the current hurt has no eternal significance.
The truth is it will not be ok. Life here on Earth will never have the same richness that it does when you have to say goodbye to a loved one. I will not be merely ok.
So when you ask me how things are going & in one breath I answer you, "My brother lost his job & has been without work for 5 months. My 87yr old gma is struggling with the treatment for her pneumonia to the point that her eyesight & heart are being seriously affected. It's excruciating to watch my 92yr old gma fight to wake up in the morning & throughout the day with nausea & pain that bare her no relief. And my aunt, my second momma's, battle with terminal metastasized breast cancer has now reached the point that they're pulling in the big guns in hopes of stabilizing the ravenous toll the cancer is taking on her body." DO NOT TELL ME EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OK.
Please, just take me by the hand & tell me the truth, "It's not going to be ok. But it's going to be exactly what God has planned. I have no words to offer but instead my silent arms will be right here." Tell me stories of my gmas & my aunt. Tell me how much they mean to you. Let me know that you grieve too. When I need it, let me stand in the corner silently while you carry on conversations without me so that I'm not alone but don't have to engage either. And when I burst into tears of deep soul-felt sadness, gently wrap your arms around me & patiently wait until I can gather the strength to move on.
"For I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able." Yes, ultimately, the truth is it will be far better than ok one sweet day but for now, it just hurts too much to hear you say it.

The day the hummingbirds flew away

One of things that's brought the biggest joy to my family lately is the migration of the hummingbirds. Living in southeast Texas, the annual trek southward to Mexico for these beautiful, delicate birds runs right through our yards, our porches & right past our windows. At gma's, two feeders have ensured we'd have plenty to watch as twenty or more of these juveniles would attempt to crowd around seven small plastic yellow flowers & take in as much syrupy goodness as they could before continuing onward. But after they are done, after they have had their fill, migration is the natural process that follows.
Today, I noticed there were no hummingbirds when I got there. Gma & momma told me that there have been a few today but for the most part, they are gone.
Today, I also noticed something else. That breathtaking smile that has met me there in that room is getting weaker. Today, it was much more forced than it has been. As I sat on her bed, she took my hand & told me how tired she was, how much pain she's in, how the nausea never completely went away today. Her purpose here is nearing an end. She's had a full, joy filled, life and this is the natural process.
Every night it grows harder & harder to leave her side. Tonight was exceptionally hard. Bedtime routine went by without a single hitch. She was stronger than she had been all day. There was very little pain & no dry heaves for the first time in weeks. The five of us (gma, momma, daddy, Buster, and I) sat laughing & having a good time when suddenly the nausea came back & the dry heaves revisited. They didn't last as long but the after effect did.
I have to admit I was suffering from a little bit of jealousy as momma & she sat there holding hands while I just sat on the floor beside the bed. But just as if God himself had whispered in her ear, she tapped the bed with her free hand & I took hold for dear life. I laid my head on the bed, staring at that beautiful old, wrinkled hand that was squeezing mine just as it had when I was a little girl. I watched her mouth the words to the radio - Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in his wonderful face, and the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of his glory and grace.
We sat there for what seemed like eternity, though I know it was only thirty minutes. A couple of times momma & I traded glances, both of us sure she was asleep but neither of us ready to let go. She was holding tightly to our hands as if she still needed us to be there with her. I found myself breathing the same pattern that she was & realized how quickly my lungs were gasping for air. Her mouth fell open like it always does when she's deep in sleep & her hands began to twitch. Still, neither of us was going to make the first move. She slowly opened her eyes & told us both to go, she would be ok & was ready to sleep now. Reluctantly we both conceded, kissed her on the cheek, hugged her one more time & told her we'd see her in the morning.
There's nothing about this process that's easy. Watching her suffer through nausea & pain on a daily basis is sometimes more than I can bare but everyday I am faced with the reality that this will too soon come to an end. Just like the hummingbirds that temporarily buzzed around her window until their purpose here was done, she too will make a migration of her own. She's just passing through. This is not her home & how selfish would I be to want her to stay one day longer than it took for her purpose to be fulfilled.

There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the heavens.....a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.

I want to laugh. I want to dance. And I will - WHILE I'm weeping & mourning because I'll always remember the night the hummingbirds flew away.

Love, dreams & the Aurora Borealis

I'm just a simple person. Simple hope. Simple dreams. Simple life. There's nothing that's extraordinary about me really. But there is this one dream I've had as long as I can remember. It is to see The Northern Lights.
I've always loved nature & star gazing. I can make all kinds of shapes with the stars. But those colors. They inspire such beauty & awe deep within me that I relish the day I might actually get to see them.
This year we celebrate 20 years of wedded, uh, togetherness. To tell you that all of those years together had been blissful would be a complete lie. I can tell you however that I love my husband more today than I did yesterday although not as much as I will tomorrow. When you get married at 21 & 18, you most certainly will make mistakes, you tend to be a little selfish & you will argue about the dumbest things. But, if you are committed to each other, you will grow up together & learn what to let go of, when to give in a little & how to love each other with a love that will endure the trials you face.
At the climax of those trials for us, my husband left for a few days to find a place where he felt safe. That place was with MY gma. Since that time they've had this unbreakable bond & she's loved him as one of her very own. She's been one of his most vocal cheerleaders, encouragers & prayer warriors. Countless times I've been woken up by her early morning phone to him just to say, "I love you & I'm praying for you today." Like the rest of us, she pulls him closer, hugs him tighter & reminds him of his eternal identity - Brian, never forget who you are. You are a child of The King.
When gma fell then, it came as no surprise as to where he wanted me to be - with her as he would hold the fort down at home. With a physically demanding job, he has come home after 10-12 hour days in the heat to be mom AND dad because he loves her that much. He loves my momma that much. He loves me that much. He's freely & without complaint given up not one week of vacation but two. Which brings us back to The Aurora......
His intent in scheduling his vacation last October was that we go & celebrate our 20th anniversary in Alaska this week because September is the beginning of Aurora season. He knew that has been my one dream, the one thing I've always wanted to do. Now though, because of circumstances beyond our control he knows that just isn't possible right now. He doesn't love me just enough to live my dreams with me, he loves me enough to hold onto my dreams ever so patiently as every night he holds me close, dries my tears & reminds me of what true love really is. Sacrifice.
Sacrifice comes naturally to no one. Who would tell their stay at home homeschooling wife - Sure, I have been in the heat all day, the house looks like a bomb went off in it & the kids are driving me nuts within the first 5 minutes of being home but I want you to go to your gma's every evening until after I've fed them, gotten them ready for the next day & put them in bed. I'll do the laundry & clean the kitchen. On my week of vacation I'll take the kids to their outside classes & run errands & pick up the groceries so that you can stay home & do something you enjoy. By the way, you look beautiful (with day old clothes on, my hair more in my face than in my pony tail & sweat soaking every inch of my body because I enjoy mowing the yard).....?!?!
The answer is not Prince Charming. He's someone much greater. He is my husband. And no matter what has come, he HAS ALWAYS loved me AND my family. I'm just now beginning to realize exactly how much.

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church & gave himself for her....Ephesians 5:25

The well worn path of providence

There's a path from my house to gma's house. Of course, there's been one since she moved 12 years ago. But never has it seen so much foot traffic as it has the past 6 weeks. 6 weeks! Tomorrow marks 6 weeks since she fell. Tomorrow marks 6 weeks of all hands on deck, an increase in phone calls & texts & visits. Tomorrow marks 6 weeks of "One more day Lord. Please just one more day."
Brian was on vacation the week gma fell so my schedule was a lot freer than it would normally be with him playing the role of both mom & dad.
The kids & I installed our own "fairy lights" to mark the path only a few days after she fell. It wasn't stuff that we had to run out & purchase but rather some scrap poles & the solar lights we use for vacation. It's come in very handy for the evening ride home with daddy.
The fact that we homeschool has come in pretty handy too. We don't typically start until the Tuesday following Labor Day which meant, again, that my schedule was a little freer.
There's an exhaustion though that comes with care giving that can't be understood until you walk in those shoes. It goes beyond the mental & physical to the deep emotional & spiritual fiber of your being. You begin to feel detached from the rest of the world, consumed at all times by loving this person with all that you have in the precious moments you know you have left together. You begin to run empty, as if you have nothing left to give at times. My prayer as of late has become more along the lines of "One more moment Lord. Please just one more moment." Only this time, it's not just a prayer for gma but a prayer for my own strength as well. 
Gma's house is about a football field away yet when I step foot out the back gate, the journey looks & feels like it will never end. My thighs burn, my head pounds, my arms feel heavier than they've ever been before. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I sing. But all the time I pray. Then, just as my body feels it's about to give out, something miraculous happens. I reach the first landing of gma's back stairs & there is a renewed energy & strength just when I need it most. It's not my strength that carries me up the rest of the way in through that back door, ready to face the beautiful smile that awaits me laying in that hospital bed.
But perhaps, today I needed just a small reminder of God's providence. After a very emotional & tear filled day yesterday, I was woken up, unsurprised, by my friend, Mr Migraine. I took some medicine, kissed my family goodbye & put on Pandora.
One of my absolute favorite songs is "Give Me Jesus" by Jeremy Camp. I want nothing more when I leave this world than to be remembered for my love for him so that my children will say, "No matter what was going on, no matter what storms or trials came, my momma ALWAYS wanted nothing more than Jesus." In fact, they all four know that it IS to be sung at my funeral.
What was the first song that played? Yes. 

In the morning, when I rise.
In the morning, when I rise.
In the morning, when I rise.
Give me Jesus.

Of course the day went on and Gma was very fretful today. (That's completely normal when your daughter is in the hospital & you can't go to her though.) The manifestation of that fret is pain & nausea in an already feeble body. But as soon as we got her settled, as soon as the dry heaves were gone, as soon as the pain lightened up, & she closed her eyes & began to fall asleep, what did I hear coming from her radio?

When I am alone,
Oh when I am alone,
Oh when I am alone,
Give me Jesus.
(Tears)
Give me Jesus.
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world.
Give me Jesus.

Immediately I knew. Providence. God provided a doctor for my aunt that loves her beyond a typical patient and would come see her late on a Saturday night. He provided safe travel home for my daddy & uncle. He provided this next week of a scheduled vacation for my husband last year in October. He provided a week of vacation when gma fell & lights for my nightly trip home & a flexible education schedule for my family & a big brother who makes football practice runs everyday. He provided me with the opportunity to sing this song, not once, but twice today. He continues to provide & fill us with that one more moment of strength that we, as a family, need during this time when we all feel broken, poured out & empty. It comes no sooner than he has laid out, but it NEVER comes too late.
With a renewed gratefulness & tears running down my face, I stood at gma's bedside, watched her place her hand on momma's knee & I sang the last verse.

When I come to die,
When I come to die,
Oh when I come to die,
Give me Jesus.

The afternoon my daughter taught me to Chasse

Girls are SO very different than boys. My poor Piggy ended up with the short end of the stick when it came to girl moms. I loathe shopping, I can't do hair, I know nothing about fashion, I never wear makeup or jewelry and I certainly can't dance. Most days I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with this pink bundle that was given to my care 9yrs ago. But she's always wanted to dance.
Enter Ms Stacey! Ms Stacey entered our lives at the perfect time. Although it was through soccer with our boys, she has become one of my closest friends, biggest prayer warriors & now my Piggy's awesome ballet teacher & encourager.
Last night when Pigs was trying to learn how to Chasse, she caught a glimpse of her daddy & I giggling in the mirror. Try explaining to a 9yrs old that you weren't laughing at her but at the movement her body was making & you'll quickly find there is very little difference. She was devastated. But God immediately gave Ms Stacey the words to say. I however am still devastated that my actions cut my precious mini so deeply. Still to the point of tears. How could I be so absent minded?
But because our children love us unconditionally, she's forgiven me. She's moved ahead & hopefully both of us have learned from this. Pigs has learned that there are going to be times when momma lets you down. There will be times when momma will come to you & beg for your forgiveness. There will be times when you have to forgive your own momma. And me? It is the reminder that I still have the ability to break a part of my own, tiny, independently beating heart through my careless actions BUT my children, all children, love more like God than we could ever give them credit. Their love for us is deep & real & eternally unconditional. Maybe THIS is what Jesus meant when he said to come to him like a little child. Thankfully because he's a much better parent than I'll ever be I'll never feel that devastation of being let down.

My mother's daughter

One of the greatest joys of my adult life is getting to spend every Saturday morning watching my momma sing. Yes, watching. It was something I didn't really appreciate as a little girl, and certainly not as a rotten teenager. I didn't understand when people would come up to her after church & tell her they loved watching her sing but now, I see it. The words that come out of her mouth don't simply resonate from her vocal chords but from every fiber of her being.
After two not so great days for grandma, there are a few things we've had to accept that tend to leave us with heavier hearts & longer faces. I had a conversation with my children this afternoon, with age appropriate information coupled with a plea for their help at home & the cry of my heart leaking through the surface. "I wish that we could remind time & catch grandma from falling. Oh how I wish that I could spare you guys from this pain." But pain is a part of life. It is, as C.S. Lewis' stepson reminded me in his intro to A Grief Observed, the part of life that reminds us what the cost of love really is. In this life, without pain, there is no true love.
As momma & I sat on grandma's couch this evening, we could hear the TV in her room. We had been talking when momma just stopped. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, escaping through her tightly shut eyelids. Then, as I do every Saturday morning, I watched her begin to sing.

No guilt in life, no fear in death.
This is the power of Christ in me.
From life's first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from his hand.
My Comforter, my All in All,
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand.

She opened her eyes. I had choked back the tears when she began talking, "I wish that I could take this pain from you guys. But (she began crying harder) I just can't." With tears streaming down my face, I looked at this amazing woman that God gave me, of all people, and was once again reminded of the gift that she not only is, but that she continues to give in the middle of her own grief. I put my hand on hers, "But momma, you're not supposed to."
So many memories & emotions came crashing down on me as I remembered the morning that Papaw died. We were supposed to go see him the night before but momma was so tired, so exhausted. I remember hearing the phone ring & knowing exactly what it meant. I remember stepping out my bedroom door to be met by my mother, who had just suffered the greatest loss of her life, in tears, begging me not to hate her. Begging me to forgive her for not going the night before. Here she was completely broken and yet still worried about saving me from pain.
I've never held that against her. Even as a selfish, self-centered 15yrs old, I just wanted my momma not to hurt but I couldn't stop her pain either. I can't now, even though I want to again. 
I guess I'm a little more like my momma than I give myself credit sometimes. I've often told people that she's like a little Jesus with skin on & that if I could even be a tenth of the woman that she is, I would be ok. As I sat there tonight with her, I realized that I am my mother's daughter. I wish more than anything that I could carry this load for her. I wish that I could take her pain away & tell her that it's going to be alright. But the truth is, I can't take her pain away anymore than she can take mine. Things aren't going to be all right, but they'll be exactly what God has for us. The same God that brought us to this place will stay here with us until he moves with us onward.
So as the days seemingly creep by too quickly, we will continue this dance. We will continue to look to our Comforter, our All in All. Because HERE in the power of Christ is where we will stand, hurting as deeply as we love, singing our hearts' cry.

Memories born in the unexpected moments

Before I begin, I feel the need to apologize. My writings as of late have been very emotional, very raw & probably very difficult to read. Thank you for taking the time to read them. I thought my blogs would help me prepare. I thought sharing my feelings & lessons gleamed from the day would somehow make it easier to say goodbye. That simply is not the case.
Today, the kids & I, along with my cousin & her kiddos, visited our other grandma. Yes, we share two grandmas. Momma & my aunt are sisters that married brothers. That fact might help to clarify the closeness of our family.
We had a wonderful visit! The kids played games & we talked. The kids visited with us a little but they also played together. We shared a couple of pizzas & some sodas. But as time crept closer to football practice, I found myself not wanting to leave.
Grandma P is also dealing with some significant health issues. Drs visits, tests & more tests on the horizon have us all a little uneasy. Gone are the days of a simple bandaid on a scraped knee with a tight hug to make the world seem right again. This is the downhill side of life although right now it seems more like a cruel slip & slide.
As I write, as I blog, there's generally a clarity I gain from the happenings of the day but that peace escapes me right now. You see, my sister (in law) has been on me to allow her to help with Grandma B's nightly routine. After three weeks of missing dinners with my family, I relented, though I didn't want to leave. I hung around & walked her through the menial tasks I do while momma is with grandma. She scowled at me a dozen or so times as I reached for this or that to help. When momma asked me to fill up the vaporizer, I told her I couldn't, that sister was in charge. I was only walking her through everything. (Sister is a hands on learner.)
Just as they were almost done, my kids called & needed me. They haven't called in three weeks & probably wouldn't have had sister not been there. I kissed grandma on the cheek & told her I'd see her tomorrow. I hugged sister & walked to the kitchen where momma was. When our eyes met, I could no longer hold back the tears. This was the feeling I've been dreading. This was the feeling of letting go. It wasn't that I feared they couldn't handle things. It wasn't that I didn't want to go home. It was that feeling again that I just didn't want to leave.
Momma called me after sister left & I wasn't much better. She told me that I'll never fully be ready to let go. No matter how much I talk myself up to it, no matter how much I loathe the pain & fatigue grandma feels every night, I will never be ready.
These moments, the ones that demand every emotional & physical fiber of my being at the end of a long day, they are the moments I will miss. I'm always treasure sharing pizza & washing grandma's styrofoam cups. But it wasn't until tonight that I realized how much I'll miss filling a stupid coffee pot or moving a heavy oxygen machine or laying a satin gown out on the bathroom counter or watching grandma's feet dance in her sleep. These are the moments that will forever a part of who I am. They will be my fondest of memories.

The summer that life appeared to stand still

It's funny how the longer circumstances linger, the more God will change our perspective if only we allow him to. This particular blog is one I've been mulling over pretty consistently for a couple of weeks. Now, I understand why. At first I thought the title "The summer that life stood still" would be what I'd go with but now that I'm actually writing it, my entire perspective has changed.
As you may know, my family compounds. There's the mom & dad compound in Willis with Jeff, grandma, & my family. We all live on conjoining properties - thank you Venezuelan family who moved at the exact time Brian & I were looking for a house! (Side note - The news today is that the one hold out family between us is looking to sell their house - yes, my wheels are turning! Lol.) Then there is the Conroe compound with my brother & sister (in law), her sister & family and their parents. They don't have conjoining properties but a couple of streets over still counts in my mind.
Compounding lends to a different kind of life. As my cousins can attest (they compounded with our grandparents growing up), there is a freedom that you don't understand unless you've been there & lived it. It goes far beyond "community" to truly living life together. All of it. The ups AND the downs.
Borrowing a cup of sugar or roll of toilet paper are pretty much daily occurrences. "My fence needs mending" or "my garbage disposal is causing the sink to overflow" are met with your own army of folks. I wouldn't trade this simple way of life for ANYTHING!
So when an emergency takes place on the compound, everybody is "two feet in". When grandma fell two weeks ago, I jumped in - filling in anywhere & everywhere momma & my aunts needed me to. This has led to a house that wouldn't pass any kind of health inspection, a pop-up camper still popped up in my front yard 4wks after vacation, laundry that's done on a need-to-wear basis, and meal making based on "what's that thing in the bottom of the freezer?"
Being a perfectionist by nature, I have struggled with not getting my stay at home mom tasks done. Admittedly a lot of it has been failure to focus when I am home or not wanting to begin something I know I won't have time to finish. For me, it appeared as though my life at home was standing still.
Today, I know that just isn't the case. LIFE hasn't stood still at all. LIFE has been going on around me whether I've caught the message or not. Today, I finally caught it.
Last night momma told me that her deepest desire through all of this is to touch eternity. So when it comes to touching eternity, will the cleanliness of my house really matter or will the care I give to grandma, my momma & my aunts? When it comes to eternity, will what we eat (or don't eat) for dinner matter? When it comes to eternity, do I want my children to model a momma who rushed about through tasks like a mad woman or one that was willing to let tasks go to simply love people?
This isn't the summer that life stood still at all. This is the summer that circumstances reminded me that I've been missing out on life all together. This is the summer that I get to touch eternity with both hands wide open.

Living an ordinary everyday, extraordinary life

It's funny how quickly we can fall into a routine. Two short weeks ago grandma fell on Monday then my brother was admitted into the hospital the following Monday with blood clots including a pulmonary embolism. I've felt, at times, like this is some kind of dream I'm living in that I can't wake up from. Other times I've relished the new routines themselves as a way to keep my mind busy so that I don't go crazy.
A part of my routine has been bedtime. No, not the one with the five people I live with, but grandma's. While momma was at the hospital with Jeff or eating her dinner or taking her bath, I get grandma's night clothes ready, put her vitamins out in her cup, empty the oxygen machine's excess water, get Ms Kitty cat's food ready, clean & get the coffee pot ready for morning, ect. Just menial tasks that I can do so that our full attention is on grandma come 830/9 o'clock when momma gets back & grandma is getting tired.
An unexpected part of that routine is the amount of time I've been able to spend with my parents. After finding grandma's comfortable place, she begins to drift off. Momma & I sit on the couch & cry together, talk about the day, you know - generally solve the world's problems. It's become a sweet time that we wouldn't have otherwise.
After only a few days of my daddy finding out I was walking through the woods in the dark at 1030, daddy began insisting on coming to pick me up and give me a ride home on their gator. I kept telling him that I was ok & that the kids & I had even put up a solar powered path from old lamps for me to walk so it wasn't so bad. Still, he waits up, fully dressed, for the text from momma that I'm ready to go home. The bumpy ride through the woods down the lighted path has become one of the highlights of my day, errr, night. I have my daddy, much like I had momma just a few moments before, all to myself.
Tonight grandma fell asleep with the TV on Charles Stanley. I've always enjoyed his teaching. But tonight's message was from Judges about Gideon. One of the things he shared was that God sends us encouragement exactly when we need it. That's exactly what goes on from 930 until 11. Encouragement. From the two people that God gave me 38yrs ago that have loved me through all the great times, the stupid times and now, the times we all need each other most. They've just lived their ordinary everyday lives and through that, taught me how to serve and encourage others, while STILL serving and encouraging me.

Thankful. Just thankful.

I've always, always, always had nightmares. Not the typical falling off a cliff, sudden stop type nightmares but fear that grips you beyond the dream state and keeps you awake for the rest of the night nightmares. The nightmares come in cycles and usually signal a stressful time in my life. They started again last night. Unfortunately, they are also something at least two of my children have inherited from me.
You would think that because I've dealt with them, compassion would be my automatic reaction but it frequently isn't. I could give a million rational reasons as to why I react the way I do when I'm woken up but they're only excuses.
Still, as my baby girl woke me up again tonight, I laid there, eyes closed, knowing she was standing over me, annoyed as I could possibly be. I honestly don't blame her for not wanting to wake me, given my past reactions but it is something we have talked about, "I can't help you if you don't tell me what you need." She typically stands beside the bed, bumping it, rocking me back and forth rather than using her words. Yes, this fuels my frustrated reaction. Several minutes passed tonight but she never once rocked the bed. Then a gentle hand on my shoulder, "Momma, I had a nightmare."
I was incredibly annoyed. Didn't she know that I haven't been sleeping well already? I had only been asleep for an hour and now it would take forever to go back to sleep. So I don't know who was more shocked by what happened next - Pigs or me.
I reached up and grabbed her hand. I pulled the covers back and moved over. I held her as tightly as I could while still letting her breathe and whispered in her ear how much I loved her. Where in the world did THAT come from?!?! To my surprise, she settled right down, which is VERY atypical for her, and was asleep in five minutes.
The reaction that she got WAS NOT ME. Here in the middle of my anxiety over so many situations beyond my control, the list of responsibilities left undone, mental, emotional and physical exhaustion like I've never experienced before God met my daughter when she needed him most and he used me to do it.
So as I lay here, half afraid to go to sleep for nightmares, I think about what there is to be thankful for in the middle of this storm:

I'm thankful for Pigs. I'm even thankful for her nightmare right now. I'm thankful that I got to see God use me, despite me. 

I'm thankful for 13yrs, today, with the most incredible, hard-headed, active, sensitive, dramatic ball of boy I ever gave birth to. 

I'm thankful for the opportunity to hear the front door close just now and pray my bigs to work safely. 

I'm thankful for football practice and the amazing group of young men who have formed a brotherhood around my athlete born into a family of nerds. 

I'm thankful for 20yrs with my high school sweetheart. I'm thankful for the sacrifice he makes everyday as he deals with heat, cold, rain, wind, customers, supervisors and other drivers. I'm thankful for his continued safety. I'm thankful for his time to speak my love language & make me food at almost midnight or loading the dishwasher. I'm thankful for gifts like a Symphony Bar or bag of beef jerky.

I'm thankful for pain meds and heating pads and rice "socks" that keep grandma a little more comfortable. 

I'm thankful for hospitals and doctors and new therapies in treating blood clots. I'm thankful they caught Jeff's blood clot before it reached his heart or cut circulation off to his lungs completely. 

I'm thankful for new chemo treatments and drs who will take a small time out when my loved one's body needs it. 

I'm thankful for pulmonologists and lung function tests and steriods and no fever for a week. 

I'm thankful for renal specialists and immunologists and living so close to Texas Children's. 

I'm thankful for texts that ask how I'm doing and Facebook messages that ask "What can I do? Can I make you dinner? Can your kids come over so you can think?"

I'm thankful for friends that send me their devotional from that morning because they know it will encourage and strengthen me. 

I'm thankful for mentors who remind me that things WILL BE different, but just how God plans, even if it might not be what I want. 

I'm thankful for momma's lifelong friend who asks me to remind her that she's praying and loves her....and really means it. 

This morning, I'm thankful for no nightmares, even if it means no sleep. 

Too much stuff and not enough space

Well, it happened yet again. I foolishly took stuff over to grandma's house with me to do. Paperwork, tatting, schoolwork. I honestly don't know why I bother. I mean it's not like I'm going to ever waste the opportunity to get to hear her talk. One day, that voice will be only a memory trapped in my mind that my ears long to hear again.
The greatest fear I have is not remembering any of it. There's no way I can possibly retain the 92yrs of memories she shares. It's not like my mind is one of those space bags you get that you can seal those precious words away to open up at the exact time you need to hear them again. It is the very definition of too much stuff and not enough space.
Still, after almost 40yrs I find myself learning something new about this woman who has known me all my life. I find new common experiences we've shared decades apart. For instance, we both have periods of our lives that have been blocked from all memory because of traumatic, though very different situations. The feeling of lost time and regret those blocked memories bring are the same though. Listening to her speak is more than just loving her, it's healing for both of us. 
And then there are new tidbits of info I'm finding out. My grandpa did, in fact, go back to school following the war to get his high school diploma. Her grandpa owned the first grocery store at 19th & Heights Blvd where his picture still hangs today. The house I've heard so much about on 3rd Street was moved off the property to Fairbanks & is some sort of historical marker - or was at one point. Stories of family members long gone or cousins barely known to me are as fresh on her memory as if it just happened yesterday.
And still, I know I won't be able to remember it all. I will remember her voice though. I will remember the pain in her words or the light in her eyes as she spoke. I will hold tightly the lessons she teaches from the stories she tells. I will hold tightly to her as long as I can. And I will always remember this time with no regret for the paperwork stayed in the pink polka-dot bag where it belonged, the tatted cross still waits, and the schoolwork will be there tomorrow.

Giving what you just don't have to give

I'm sure that over the next few months, any readers I would have to a blog will grow tired of hearing about daily adventures in my life. I'm honestly rather boring & never feel I have a whole lot to say worth reading. But in this season of my life, there is so much I'm exposed to on a daily basis, I just need to release it somehow. Writing has always been a great therapy for me, next to my favorite coping technique - just sleeping it away. Writing, of course, is far more productive. Blah. Blah. Blah.
Monday night I shared the wonderful image I had been given of my momma dancing with her momma. The truth is, it was out of necessity. Grandma fell Monday morning & was in a lot of pain. Not only did hospice arrange for x-rays to be done at her house, but we got the wonderful news Tuesday morning that nothing was broken! Talk about thankful....!
Yesterday, grandma slept quite a bit, although I have no idea how with all the noise & laughter we were making in her livingroom. Today, overall, went much better than any of us could have hoped. And then it was bedtime.
I had simply gone over there to drop off some butterfly bandages, hours earlier, but stayed because it was quiet. With five kids waiting for me at home, I wanted to just sit & visit a while longer with my aunt & gma. Momma got there around dark & my aunt left a little while after that. That was my intention too, but again, that wasn't what happened.
Getting grandma ready for bed didn't turn out quite as well as the day had. Because of the fall, her equilibrium is way off & she's been battling bouts of nausea. Again, I felt like an active observer to a scene I wasn't ready for.
I watched my momma, a registered nurse, lovingly & skillfully assist her patient, her momma, as the nausea took hold. I stood steadying the chair, running to get a wet washcloth & ginger ale then stood some more. I watched as grandma buried her head in her chest to stabilize herself & tears flowed freely down my momma's stoic face. I closed my eyes for just a moment, determined not to cry again, & whispered a prayer for them both. When I opened my eyes, momma was doing the same thing.
A real sadness & fear grasped me at that moment as I realized I'll never be able to take care of my momma this way. I don't have the training. I don't have the knowledge. I just can't give my momma what she can give. Oh but how I long to. My heart is broken. She deserves so much more.
As I sit here now, attempting to make sense of it all by typing it out, I realize - I'm not supposed to give what my momma can give. I can love like momma loves. I can serve like momma serves. I can cry like momma cries. I will pray like momma prays. And THAT IS enough. The rest will just be details in a day of love.
I know momma isn't Superwoman. And she isn't really giving what she has to give at all. It is a supernatural thing that she gives. The works of her tired hands & feet are powered by something, Someone, beyond human understanding. So if I draw my strength, my knowledge, my training, from that same One, things will turn out just fine. Then, maybe, I too will be able give her what I don't have to give.