Introduction to the book:
There was a bloodless war, a secret war, in the house. There were invisible wounds inflicted by bullets of verbal combat. The battles were intense. There was an ambush on the family in the house as they were attacked with silent weapons by a dark world of deception and destruction. It was a spiritual war.
This book was written about that war, the one that everyone in the house tried to keep a secret. But the secret was much too massive to hide. The dark world of substance abuse exploded in the house, attacking just one member of the family while the others were sleeping, unprepared. But the others felt the shock with destruction leaving deep scars.
There was one that suffered the most, the one caught in the trap, the one in the spider's web. He was confused, being blinded by the lies in his own head. He was suspended between the good and the bad worlds. He was captive in an ugly world that sought to destroy him.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Poem From the Cradle to the Cyclone Fence
CRADLED
Finely crafted, predestined, meticulously designed
Toiled and labored from the touch of the Potter's hand.
A small treasure with no imperfection to her eye,
Cradled in her arms and sheltered from the shifting sand.
Entrusted in her care, the task of molding the clay,
Too soon the darkness loomed to threaten the binding tie,
A fingering crack in the clay, seen only by her
To patch the flaw, too tiresome , the mending of a lie.
A raging storm cast shadows on the fading calm,
the sorrowing Potter had sent the gift as a loan,
The clay could not be mended; the hot sun's rays beat down,
No shade from the smoldering heat, her prayer a moan.
Still clinging to her possession, the time growing nigh,
The Potter would be returning, his gift to recall.
She knew the bloodless war, non relenting, had won.
Reclaiming her gift, powerless to prevent the fall.
Mending the crack, the Potter began his tedious work,
Never to return, He slowly concealed the defect.
He cradled the gift gently under His loving wing,
On her knees, she saw him, and the work He did perfect'.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Farewell to Pepe-A Dog Legend
Saying goodbye to a 16 yr old Chihuahua should have been a little easier than it was, after all, she wasn't the best of dogs. In fact, she was a hellion, whatever that is and everyone that ever met her, never forgot her. She had a way of sticking in your mind, sneaking in your heart, and getting on your nerves. She was like no other dog and there would never be one that could even come close to taking her place. Not ever.
She became a family member in Sept 1990, the same time that my Dad had a life threatening stroke, and the very week we brought her home. I had to go to Salisbury to see Dad, but what was I to do with the docile puppy. So I got a huge box that could comfortably hold a full grown Great Dane, threw some food in it with a bowl of water, and put the little dog in. I fully expected to return home with her in the box, which was 12 hrs later.
I walked into the kitchen where I had placed the box, all was quiet as I peered in, but there was no dog. I was puzzled how she managed to leap over a five foot box, not noticing the small hole she had chewed in the back part of the box. Then I heard her running around in the living room, where she had deposited 20 turds and 20 tablespoons of pee. She was so happy to see me and came running up to me, just like a little angel. How could anyone get mad at a 2 lb puppy?
This was the beginning of many adventures with the most high strung dog that could ever be. She was hyper, easily agitated, and hated pretty much everyone, except us. We had to buy a Beware of Dog sign, which made people laugh when they saw the little, white,fluff of a dog. She pretended to be friendly until someone would cross the line and attempt to pet her. She knew they would try, so she waited for them to put out their hand in good snapping distance and she would immediately try to sink her sharp teeth into the intruder, regardless of who it was. We could even say that she knew the difference between the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Let's start with the good. Often times she would warn the good, by a continuous, growling noise, but no one ever took the hint. One day she was sitting on Pop Pop's lap while he was rubbing her and saying, "nice kitty." My brother Tim, a saint of sorts, the good, crossed the line by walking up to Pop Pop while Pepe lay all cozy in his lap. Tim reached out his hand to pet her and he felt the breeze of her clamping jaws and was just barely out of her striking range.
She had a huge dislike for the ugly. Our oldest son had a friend who really wasn't ugly, but Pepe must have thought so. This friend lived next door. When he would go home, we would hold Pepe back from chasing him. As the boy attempted to climb over the fence, we turned Pepe loose. She knew the game well. She ran after him like a bat out of H___! It was a game to her.
We couldn't take her out of a lease, like a normal dog. Sadly I found this out the hard way. One day as I was walking her, she saw another dog being walked. He was a huge, lovable dog. So in getting acquainted, dogs sniff one anothers butts. The huge dog let Pepe sniff first. When it came Pepe's turn to be sniffed, she attacked the huge dog after she jumped 4 feet into the air. The lady owner of the huge dog was appalled and said,"What an evil little dog you have!" I thought to myself, well she just crossed the line so I hurriedly took Pepe home while she was almost choking herself to death trying to get at the huge dog.
She hated all repair men. She barked their whole visit and we had to put her in a cage until the stranger left. Then when he was safely in his truck we turned her loose and she ran all the house sniffing and barking for hours.
If someone knocked on the door, perhaps one of my oldest son's friends, maybe the bad, I would hold her up to the door while her back hair stood up with all her teeth showing, with her long claws exposed. She looked like a cat. She looked mean and dangerous. Any idiot knew better than to try to come in the house.
The kids played tricks on their friends by trying to get them to pet her. When the friend reached down to pet Pepe, she would snap at them like a turtle and growl like a huge bear.
One day, we planned a vacation and had to board her at the kennel for a whole week. When we came back, I went to get her, I was told that she interrupted the whole kennel and they had to isolate her. They were glad to see me. The next year when I called to board her, they preferred that I didn't. So we took her with us to Ocean City to stay in my Aunt and Uncle's camper in Fenwick. She loved it and was as good as could be, as if she was on vacation too. We would chain her to the picnic table and she sniffed the air and looked around. It was so cute!
She was a hunter, one of the best. She captured birds, rabbits, and moles. It was a game to her and the whole back yard was her territory, even though she chose to poop right by the deck steps.
She especially adored my husband. When he came home from work, he would sing,"Baby, Baby" over and over. She planted herself by the door and would howl to the tune. One day she got so excited, she fell over and peed herself.
She was also an athlete. If we wanted her to come in from the yard, we would yell,"milk bone!" She would turn and come flying out of no where, leap 4 feet in the air onto the deck entrance as if she had been shot out of a cannon. Her front paws barely hit the deck. It was all a game to her.
But sadly the day came when everything changed. She allowed an electrician to come and stay all day and she never barked, this was a sign. She allowed a painter to come and she never barked. She let the squirrels play on the deck. She was slowing down and getting older. I pretended not to notice.
She started to lose weight, and walked around the house moaning at times. Her ribs were showing, I knew she had to be put down. I brought her in our home, I would be the one to take her away.
The night before the scheduled execution, she followed me everywhere. She knew. The next day she cried all the way to the vets.
She was so anxious at the vets that they had to gas her with air anesthetic before giving her the lethal injection. They allowed me to be in the room with her. I touched her and talked to her while the injection did its job. She was just sleeping. It was no longer a game. I leaned close to her as the vet checked for a heart beat that was no longer there. "Go find Pop Pop girl. He is waiting for you." Then I kissed her.
I wrapped her in a blanket and took her home. I rocked her and cried hysterically for 40 minutes until her body warmth was gone, just like I did with my Dad five years earlier. I closed her eyes. Her ears were up straight as if she was already on a journey and she had to be alert.
I whispered to her again,"Keep looking girl, keep looking. He is there. I love you girl !"
Nothing will ever be the same again. We will miss her forever!
She became a family member in Sept 1990, the same time that my Dad had a life threatening stroke, and the very week we brought her home. I had to go to Salisbury to see Dad, but what was I to do with the docile puppy. So I got a huge box that could comfortably hold a full grown Great Dane, threw some food in it with a bowl of water, and put the little dog in. I fully expected to return home with her in the box, which was 12 hrs later.
I walked into the kitchen where I had placed the box, all was quiet as I peered in, but there was no dog. I was puzzled how she managed to leap over a five foot box, not noticing the small hole she had chewed in the back part of the box. Then I heard her running around in the living room, where she had deposited 20 turds and 20 tablespoons of pee. She was so happy to see me and came running up to me, just like a little angel. How could anyone get mad at a 2 lb puppy?
This was the beginning of many adventures with the most high strung dog that could ever be. She was hyper, easily agitated, and hated pretty much everyone, except us. We had to buy a Beware of Dog sign, which made people laugh when they saw the little, white,fluff of a dog. She pretended to be friendly until someone would cross the line and attempt to pet her. She knew they would try, so she waited for them to put out their hand in good snapping distance and she would immediately try to sink her sharp teeth into the intruder, regardless of who it was. We could even say that she knew the difference between the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Let's start with the good. Often times she would warn the good, by a continuous, growling noise, but no one ever took the hint. One day she was sitting on Pop Pop's lap while he was rubbing her and saying, "nice kitty." My brother Tim, a saint of sorts, the good, crossed the line by walking up to Pop Pop while Pepe lay all cozy in his lap. Tim reached out his hand to pet her and he felt the breeze of her clamping jaws and was just barely out of her striking range.
She had a huge dislike for the ugly. Our oldest son had a friend who really wasn't ugly, but Pepe must have thought so. This friend lived next door. When he would go home, we would hold Pepe back from chasing him. As the boy attempted to climb over the fence, we turned Pepe loose. She knew the game well. She ran after him like a bat out of H___! It was a game to her.
We couldn't take her out of a lease, like a normal dog. Sadly I found this out the hard way. One day as I was walking her, she saw another dog being walked. He was a huge, lovable dog. So in getting acquainted, dogs sniff one anothers butts. The huge dog let Pepe sniff first. When it came Pepe's turn to be sniffed, she attacked the huge dog after she jumped 4 feet into the air. The lady owner of the huge dog was appalled and said,"What an evil little dog you have!" I thought to myself, well she just crossed the line so I hurriedly took Pepe home while she was almost choking herself to death trying to get at the huge dog.
She hated all repair men. She barked their whole visit and we had to put her in a cage until the stranger left. Then when he was safely in his truck we turned her loose and she ran all the house sniffing and barking for hours.
If someone knocked on the door, perhaps one of my oldest son's friends, maybe the bad, I would hold her up to the door while her back hair stood up with all her teeth showing, with her long claws exposed. She looked like a cat. She looked mean and dangerous. Any idiot knew better than to try to come in the house.
The kids played tricks on their friends by trying to get them to pet her. When the friend reached down to pet Pepe, she would snap at them like a turtle and growl like a huge bear.
One day, we planned a vacation and had to board her at the kennel for a whole week. When we came back, I went to get her, I was told that she interrupted the whole kennel and they had to isolate her. They were glad to see me. The next year when I called to board her, they preferred that I didn't. So we took her with us to Ocean City to stay in my Aunt and Uncle's camper in Fenwick. She loved it and was as good as could be, as if she was on vacation too. We would chain her to the picnic table and she sniffed the air and looked around. It was so cute!
She was a hunter, one of the best. She captured birds, rabbits, and moles. It was a game to her and the whole back yard was her territory, even though she chose to poop right by the deck steps.
She especially adored my husband. When he came home from work, he would sing,"Baby, Baby" over and over. She planted herself by the door and would howl to the tune. One day she got so excited, she fell over and peed herself.
She was also an athlete. If we wanted her to come in from the yard, we would yell,"milk bone!" She would turn and come flying out of no where, leap 4 feet in the air onto the deck entrance as if she had been shot out of a cannon. Her front paws barely hit the deck. It was all a game to her.
But sadly the day came when everything changed. She allowed an electrician to come and stay all day and she never barked, this was a sign. She allowed a painter to come and she never barked. She let the squirrels play on the deck. She was slowing down and getting older. I pretended not to notice.
She started to lose weight, and walked around the house moaning at times. Her ribs were showing, I knew she had to be put down. I brought her in our home, I would be the one to take her away.
The night before the scheduled execution, she followed me everywhere. She knew. The next day she cried all the way to the vets.
She was so anxious at the vets that they had to gas her with air anesthetic before giving her the lethal injection. They allowed me to be in the room with her. I touched her and talked to her while the injection did its job. She was just sleeping. It was no longer a game. I leaned close to her as the vet checked for a heart beat that was no longer there. "Go find Pop Pop girl. He is waiting for you." Then I kissed her.
I wrapped her in a blanket and took her home. I rocked her and cried hysterically for 40 minutes until her body warmth was gone, just like I did with my Dad five years earlier. I closed her eyes. Her ears were up straight as if she was already on a journey and she had to be alert.
I whispered to her again,"Keep looking girl, keep looking. He is there. I love you girl !"
Nothing will ever be the same again. We will miss her forever!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Only A Game
With the tension mounting in the smoldering heat, we were tied as we started the eleventh inning of the championship game. My 15 yr old son was on the mound. I felt a wave of nausea come over me as I squirmed on the bleacher.
I took a fleeting moment to search my son's face for some kind of expression, some indication of what he was thinking or feeling, but there was none. Perhaps he had ice flowing in his veins, but he knew he had a job to do and that keeping his cool was crucial in getting the team closer to winning the regional play-offs.
My thoughts were constantly interrupted by the parents of the opposing, heckling, up-state team. Perhaps they were feeling the stress of 3 days of baseball, but for sure, they were not having any fun. Neither were we. No one was telling their kid to "go out and have some fun." This was about winning or losing, not fun. T-ball days were fun, this was stressful nausea.
I continued to glance around, rather amused as several of the parents on the opposing team, had perched themselves behind the home plate fence, looking like toddlers in a play pen. I believe they must have founded the organization called "Let's Hassle the Ump." They were pacing and yelling strange words to their kids and ours as well. They appeared to be angry at someone and their pot was boiling over as we reached the last few minutes of the game.
I made every attempt to tune out their loud applause when my son threw a "ball" near the strike zone or when they noisily shouted their objection to a "strike" call. I felt sorry for the ump, who seemed oblivious to their jeers. Maybe he was used to it.
Finally the inning was over when we scored one run to win. Even though I was still feeling the urge to vomit, I turned my focus upon my son's face as he walked off the field. Still the same expressionless face, but he glanced over where I was sitting, only I was no longer sitting, I was standing up cheering for a well-played game.
Yes winning was fun, but it was short-lived, since the final game that could possibly send us to the Nationals in Ohio had to be played. We would either go to Ohio or home to shower away a long season of 65 games.
And so the final game began, intense heat and playing hard to win, but at least my son was not pitching. The nausea still hovered around though. We lost by one run, just one run away from sweet victory. I had already packed in my mind for Ohio. I felt like crying. Two of the players on our team were crying in the dug out. Perhaps this was a typical response of children in men's bodies, maybe the stress was under the surface just waited to be released. I saw a few parents crying too.
No this was not fun. This was travel baseball.
We all looked like we were in shock. I tried to speak, but a huge lump caught in my throat. What was there to say? I knew I had to get myself together so I could say some upbeat words to my son to life his spirts. I was rehearsing a few lines as I was engulfed in my private pity party. Then I saw him walk over to me.
I looked deep into his eyes wondering how he was coping with the loss. I spoke first.
"Tough game!" I said as I looked away so he didn't see me cry. I collected myself and looked back at him. He was smiling,"Mom,it's only a game!"
And so it was. How I wished I had that attitude during all the years my boys played sports, especially when they were younger. I have seen parents, grandparents, and coaches ordered out of the park by an ump. I have seen pitchers crying on the mound as their Dad called them a "cry baby." I have heard all kinds of negative comments. No it was never fun.
I'd like to say that I had always behaved maturely, but this would be a terrible lie. I could best be described as a recovering "Parent-fan-idiot-holic!" I invented this phrase hoping there was a pill I could take to cure me.
I came to terms with my conditon one rainy day when I made an utter fool of myself in the middle of a 6 yr old soccer game. There was a ridiculous confrontation over a hat that I insisted my son wear in the rainy game. I learned some hard rules. First, hats are against the rules. Secondly real men play in the rain, get their hair wet, and go to the pediatrician in a few days.
I do not recall how I ended up on the middle of that field that day. I was seeing red and my feet were out of control. The other coach had the game stopped to have my son remove his hat. I didn't even hear the chants from the parents of the other team yelling,"Get that idiot off the field?"
My son still recalls that day that keeps resurfacing like esophageal reflux. To add to the chaos, my husband was the coach. He fondly spoke of the D word when we got home if I ever did that again.
My son just finished college baseball and that was not fun either. But he kept the same attitude, even after his pitching arm needed surgery that sent his hopes of pitching in the majors to a screaming halt. He had been pitching for 17 years, perhaps too long for one arm to endure.
We have gotten over the loss of the pitching arm. As I have come to terms with the loss, I hear those same words," Mom, it's only a game!" And so it was.
I took a fleeting moment to search my son's face for some kind of expression, some indication of what he was thinking or feeling, but there was none. Perhaps he had ice flowing in his veins, but he knew he had a job to do and that keeping his cool was crucial in getting the team closer to winning the regional play-offs.
My thoughts were constantly interrupted by the parents of the opposing, heckling, up-state team. Perhaps they were feeling the stress of 3 days of baseball, but for sure, they were not having any fun. Neither were we. No one was telling their kid to "go out and have some fun." This was about winning or losing, not fun. T-ball days were fun, this was stressful nausea.
I continued to glance around, rather amused as several of the parents on the opposing team, had perched themselves behind the home plate fence, looking like toddlers in a play pen. I believe they must have founded the organization called "Let's Hassle the Ump." They were pacing and yelling strange words to their kids and ours as well. They appeared to be angry at someone and their pot was boiling over as we reached the last few minutes of the game.
I made every attempt to tune out their loud applause when my son threw a "ball" near the strike zone or when they noisily shouted their objection to a "strike" call. I felt sorry for the ump, who seemed oblivious to their jeers. Maybe he was used to it.
Finally the inning was over when we scored one run to win. Even though I was still feeling the urge to vomit, I turned my focus upon my son's face as he walked off the field. Still the same expressionless face, but he glanced over where I was sitting, only I was no longer sitting, I was standing up cheering for a well-played game.
Yes winning was fun, but it was short-lived, since the final game that could possibly send us to the Nationals in Ohio had to be played. We would either go to Ohio or home to shower away a long season of 65 games.
And so the final game began, intense heat and playing hard to win, but at least my son was not pitching. The nausea still hovered around though. We lost by one run, just one run away from sweet victory. I had already packed in my mind for Ohio. I felt like crying. Two of the players on our team were crying in the dug out. Perhaps this was a typical response of children in men's bodies, maybe the stress was under the surface just waited to be released. I saw a few parents crying too.
No this was not fun. This was travel baseball.
We all looked like we were in shock. I tried to speak, but a huge lump caught in my throat. What was there to say? I knew I had to get myself together so I could say some upbeat words to my son to life his spirts. I was rehearsing a few lines as I was engulfed in my private pity party. Then I saw him walk over to me.
I looked deep into his eyes wondering how he was coping with the loss. I spoke first.
"Tough game!" I said as I looked away so he didn't see me cry. I collected myself and looked back at him. He was smiling,"Mom,it's only a game!"
And so it was. How I wished I had that attitude during all the years my boys played sports, especially when they were younger. I have seen parents, grandparents, and coaches ordered out of the park by an ump. I have seen pitchers crying on the mound as their Dad called them a "cry baby." I have heard all kinds of negative comments. No it was never fun.
I'd like to say that I had always behaved maturely, but this would be a terrible lie. I could best be described as a recovering "Parent-fan-idiot-holic!" I invented this phrase hoping there was a pill I could take to cure me.
I came to terms with my conditon one rainy day when I made an utter fool of myself in the middle of a 6 yr old soccer game. There was a ridiculous confrontation over a hat that I insisted my son wear in the rainy game. I learned some hard rules. First, hats are against the rules. Secondly real men play in the rain, get their hair wet, and go to the pediatrician in a few days.
I do not recall how I ended up on the middle of that field that day. I was seeing red and my feet were out of control. The other coach had the game stopped to have my son remove his hat. I didn't even hear the chants from the parents of the other team yelling,"Get that idiot off the field?"
My son still recalls that day that keeps resurfacing like esophageal reflux. To add to the chaos, my husband was the coach. He fondly spoke of the D word when we got home if I ever did that again.
My son just finished college baseball and that was not fun either. But he kept the same attitude, even after his pitching arm needed surgery that sent his hopes of pitching in the majors to a screaming halt. He had been pitching for 17 years, perhaps too long for one arm to endure.
We have gotten over the loss of the pitching arm. As I have come to terms with the loss, I hear those same words," Mom, it's only a game!" And so it was.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
The Evans' Go Upstate
Planning for a trip one year in advance is not always a good thing. How do you know if you will be alive then? Or if you still want to go? So a trip of this nature can cause some undo stress, especially for us, since we are already at our peak of anxiety on a normal day!
We purchased our tickets for a 4-day bus trip to Cooperstown, New York to see our Ironman, Cal Ripken be inducted into the Hall of Fame. This was in fact a man vacation,which I will explain.
One week prior to our little vacation, all H---- broke loose. Our son Stephen needed to have shoulder surgery after the UMBC trainers wasted the whole summer trying to decide on a course of action. It worked out for them to do the surgery the day before we were to leave for NY.
After a zillion phone calls, we postponed the surgery so we could take the trip which meant we packed that huge worry right in our suitcases.
And after years of my back misery, the pain returned with a vengeance to the point where I could not clean my own bathrooms. As the date for the trip got closer, I was starting to doubt if I could even stand the trip. But when you pay a year in advance and don't get that blasted insurance, you just go.
Our family had many discussions that week. Our son Stephen wanted to stay home and have his surgery. Our son Rusty didn't want to stay in the same hotel room with us with just two beds. I wanted to go to Ocean City or visit my Aunt Gert and camp out in her sunroom. My husband doesn't like to leave his habitat. And no one wanted to put the dog in the kennel since he had become as high strung as the rest of us.
So Friday arrived. I announced that everyone had to pack for themselves. The chaos of the last minute Evan's crazy actions started to unfold.
In the mid afternoon, my husband, who had been off work a whole week, remembered he had a mother that he had to visit, which was a 2-hr trip that annoyed me. Then you may recall, we were in the worst drought and everyone's lawn was brown like dirt. Keep this in mind as you read. We hadn't had a thunderstorm in months.
I left to take the hyper dog to the kennel as my husband had some downtime on his laptop. He did tell me he was going to mow the lawn and I asked him, "whose lawn?" since we didn't even have any grass. This annoyed me as well and I knew it would suck up 2 more hours and no one had packed yet.
On the way to the kennel, the sky got dark and we had a pretend storm where the wind blows and it thunders with sporadic rain fall that barely wets the grass and was capable of electrocuting a man on a lawnmower. When I got home the lawn mowers had taken cover in the garage and I couldn't even park my car. I finally got in and saw my husband reclining and playing his Game Boy as he waited out the lightning storm, which annoyed me once again.
I think I was getting nuts because it was nearing 7pm and no one had packed yet. What's with that? I wanted to load the car the night before since we had to meet the bus as 0630 the next day to begin our trip.
Stephen still wasn't home from college and Rusty didn't think he should pack "if Stephen hadn't packed yet." What are they, toddlers? Rusty was busy trying to find some Cal Ripken stuff and I finally found a number 8 shirt that I had been using as a wedge between my air mattress and the bureau for 4 years. I am a true fan, don't you think?
At 10pm, I was exhausted, the car was empty, and I left them and went to bed. The mountain was just too big to fight. I thought that vacationers were supposed to relax and forget their troubles, so why was I thinking of selling my ticket on E-Bay?
We got up early and everyone was scrambling around doing things that should have been done the night before. I was annoyed with all 3 of them.
We made it in time to meet the bus without killing each other, parked the car, and got in to take our seats. I settled back in my seat and took a deep breathe. But we were not moving, it seemed one couple was missing. We waited for them for 10 minutes and they finally arrived and walked on the bus without any apology like we owed them this special time. How can people be so annoying? I instantly disliked both of them and not because they were huge or late, but because they were huge AND late, a deadly combo. They were so big, they shared 2 seats each, which was a good thing for them so their fat didn't rub together and cause huge bedsores from the bumpy bus ride. The man had sleep apnea and snored the whole time we were on the bus. How could anyone be that tired?
We stopped for breakfast after 2 hrs and we were told that we had one hour to eat. The little country place was small and the food was great when we finally got it. Everyone on the entire bus had been served but us. Were we that easy to over-look? I had to tell the hostess of the bus that we would be late. This little adventure became our trademark through out the trip. No matter where we went to eat, out table was either forgotten or last and we were the tallest people on the bus trip. Isn't that weird? I was starting to doubt if we were really going to Cooperstown or if I was in the middle of a bad dream.
We stayed in Utica, in a large hotel, one hour from Cooperstown. Our room was large and we piled in as we bickered over sleeping arrangements. We ordered a cot for Rusty, Stephen claimed one bed and my husband the other bed. How nice! Where was I going to sleep? I finally put two bench things and a chair together and used a spread for a mattress. And why not? This was a man vacation with man shopping and man talk. I was the invisible, needy woman in constant back pain. But it was only for a few nights and surely I would survive.
The next day, we got up at 0500 to eat breakfast and ride our bus into Cooperstown so we could get a spot for the induction ceremony. Can you imagine 70,000 people huddled in chairs on acres of green grass with humidity that would kill a cactus? No wonder we never went to Disney World.!
Even the zillion people did not amaze me as my own family did. My husband who can not stay on the beach for more than an hour under a 100 SPF umbrella managed to sit for 4 hours in 100 degree sun blazing heat with sweat running down his face without a word of complaint. My boys who dislike sitting in an air conditioned church with a 20 minute message from their Uncle, managed to listen to 2 speeches, one 35 minutes long and one fifteen, with their shirts drenched in sweat and not one complaint from either of them.
This same trio, who wouldn't be caught dead shopping in a mall for Christmas gifts (thank God for Santa) shopped for 2 days in the Hall of Fame while I sat on a bench wishing I had some pain pills for my back. They were in some kind of male euphoria, a true man vacation. They stayed up late, they took naps, they ate tons of food and since I hate all 3 of those things, it was tough for me, but in the name of quality family time, I survived.
The sole purpose of any family vacation is to see who survives without any blood shed and to see what is left of the family by the end of the trip.
It seems that my dear husband who enjoyed the trip so much is planning our next vacation and he thinks a cruise would be great. HUH? Yeah right buddy, only if we have 2 bedrooms and a bucket load of Xanax !
We purchased our tickets for a 4-day bus trip to Cooperstown, New York to see our Ironman, Cal Ripken be inducted into the Hall of Fame. This was in fact a man vacation,which I will explain.
One week prior to our little vacation, all H---- broke loose. Our son Stephen needed to have shoulder surgery after the UMBC trainers wasted the whole summer trying to decide on a course of action. It worked out for them to do the surgery the day before we were to leave for NY.
After a zillion phone calls, we postponed the surgery so we could take the trip which meant we packed that huge worry right in our suitcases.
And after years of my back misery, the pain returned with a vengeance to the point where I could not clean my own bathrooms. As the date for the trip got closer, I was starting to doubt if I could even stand the trip. But when you pay a year in advance and don't get that blasted insurance, you just go.
Our family had many discussions that week. Our son Stephen wanted to stay home and have his surgery. Our son Rusty didn't want to stay in the same hotel room with us with just two beds. I wanted to go to Ocean City or visit my Aunt Gert and camp out in her sunroom. My husband doesn't like to leave his habitat. And no one wanted to put the dog in the kennel since he had become as high strung as the rest of us.
So Friday arrived. I announced that everyone had to pack for themselves. The chaos of the last minute Evan's crazy actions started to unfold.
In the mid afternoon, my husband, who had been off work a whole week, remembered he had a mother that he had to visit, which was a 2-hr trip that annoyed me. Then you may recall, we were in the worst drought and everyone's lawn was brown like dirt. Keep this in mind as you read. We hadn't had a thunderstorm in months.
I left to take the hyper dog to the kennel as my husband had some downtime on his laptop. He did tell me he was going to mow the lawn and I asked him, "whose lawn?" since we didn't even have any grass. This annoyed me as well and I knew it would suck up 2 more hours and no one had packed yet.
On the way to the kennel, the sky got dark and we had a pretend storm where the wind blows and it thunders with sporadic rain fall that barely wets the grass and was capable of electrocuting a man on a lawnmower. When I got home the lawn mowers had taken cover in the garage and I couldn't even park my car. I finally got in and saw my husband reclining and playing his Game Boy as he waited out the lightning storm, which annoyed me once again.
I think I was getting nuts because it was nearing 7pm and no one had packed yet. What's with that? I wanted to load the car the night before since we had to meet the bus as 0630 the next day to begin our trip.
Stephen still wasn't home from college and Rusty didn't think he should pack "if Stephen hadn't packed yet." What are they, toddlers? Rusty was busy trying to find some Cal Ripken stuff and I finally found a number 8 shirt that I had been using as a wedge between my air mattress and the bureau for 4 years. I am a true fan, don't you think?
At 10pm, I was exhausted, the car was empty, and I left them and went to bed. The mountain was just too big to fight. I thought that vacationers were supposed to relax and forget their troubles, so why was I thinking of selling my ticket on E-Bay?
We got up early and everyone was scrambling around doing things that should have been done the night before. I was annoyed with all 3 of them.
We made it in time to meet the bus without killing each other, parked the car, and got in to take our seats. I settled back in my seat and took a deep breathe. But we were not moving, it seemed one couple was missing. We waited for them for 10 minutes and they finally arrived and walked on the bus without any apology like we owed them this special time. How can people be so annoying? I instantly disliked both of them and not because they were huge or late, but because they were huge AND late, a deadly combo. They were so big, they shared 2 seats each, which was a good thing for them so their fat didn't rub together and cause huge bedsores from the bumpy bus ride. The man had sleep apnea and snored the whole time we were on the bus. How could anyone be that tired?
We stopped for breakfast after 2 hrs and we were told that we had one hour to eat. The little country place was small and the food was great when we finally got it. Everyone on the entire bus had been served but us. Were we that easy to over-look? I had to tell the hostess of the bus that we would be late. This little adventure became our trademark through out the trip. No matter where we went to eat, out table was either forgotten or last and we were the tallest people on the bus trip. Isn't that weird? I was starting to doubt if we were really going to Cooperstown or if I was in the middle of a bad dream.
We stayed in Utica, in a large hotel, one hour from Cooperstown. Our room was large and we piled in as we bickered over sleeping arrangements. We ordered a cot for Rusty, Stephen claimed one bed and my husband the other bed. How nice! Where was I going to sleep? I finally put two bench things and a chair together and used a spread for a mattress. And why not? This was a man vacation with man shopping and man talk. I was the invisible, needy woman in constant back pain. But it was only for a few nights and surely I would survive.
The next day, we got up at 0500 to eat breakfast and ride our bus into Cooperstown so we could get a spot for the induction ceremony. Can you imagine 70,000 people huddled in chairs on acres of green grass with humidity that would kill a cactus? No wonder we never went to Disney World.!
Even the zillion people did not amaze me as my own family did. My husband who can not stay on the beach for more than an hour under a 100 SPF umbrella managed to sit for 4 hours in 100 degree sun blazing heat with sweat running down his face without a word of complaint. My boys who dislike sitting in an air conditioned church with a 20 minute message from their Uncle, managed to listen to 2 speeches, one 35 minutes long and one fifteen, with their shirts drenched in sweat and not one complaint from either of them.
This same trio, who wouldn't be caught dead shopping in a mall for Christmas gifts (thank God for Santa) shopped for 2 days in the Hall of Fame while I sat on a bench wishing I had some pain pills for my back. They were in some kind of male euphoria, a true man vacation. They stayed up late, they took naps, they ate tons of food and since I hate all 3 of those things, it was tough for me, but in the name of quality family time, I survived.
The sole purpose of any family vacation is to see who survives without any blood shed and to see what is left of the family by the end of the trip.
It seems that my dear husband who enjoyed the trip so much is planning our next vacation and he thinks a cruise would be great. HUH? Yeah right buddy, only if we have 2 bedrooms and a bucket load of Xanax !
Saturday, May 1, 2010
A Lawn Man
Some wives who may read this, have no idea what a lawn man is, so they should stop reading now. But there are some wives who personally know a lawn man and this article is for them. I must warn you that the story you are about to read is sad.
My lawn man just had 10 days off for a spring break. He worked diligently everyday on our lawn, the same lawn that HAD 3 gorgeous evergreen trees.
I find it difficult to even talk about those trees. They were gigantic Christmas trees, fat and happy. I will admit that they owned our front yard. They were incredibly beautiful in the winter when it snowed, as the brances just glistened with icicles and white flakes. They were a breath-taking scene and I loved them. They were shade in the hot summer and totally hid the front of our house, which gave us ultimate privacy. But for some reason, my husband took a disliking to them and all but murdered each one.
It all began with one cedar tree spreading its branches over our driveway. Our cars went right under the branches with room to spare, but my lawn man considered them a hazard of some kind. The trees were rabbit and squirrel homes.
Anyway, my lawn man decided to trim the tree in the driveway and did some insane hacking on it. This proved to be a vast job and he called in the Calvary, the professional lawn men.
I saw my lawn man standing knee deep in branches while he performed his tree killing project. Why?? So he could ride his lawn mower under the tree where there was no grass. Not even weeds grew under those trees.
I came to understand a little of his intimidation of trees in general when last summer while he was mowing the back yard, a huge limb fell down from a 40 foot tree and almost hit him. I believed he called it 'a narrow escape', but I like to think of it as an omen.
But it was much more than that ! I think that trees can talk and the 3 trees in the front yard sent an SOS to the back yard trees. It was a distress call in self defense and the message went like this-he is a tree murderer. Get him before he gets us! This has to be the explanation for the near miss. What are the odds of a huge branch falling from a healthy tree.
Sadly the tree message came too late. I awakened one morning to the sound of a Chain Saw Massacre, not that I ever watched such trash ! I ask you, is there a more annoying noise than a gas-powered chain saw, even more annoying than a paper shredder? I swear he only shreds paper when I walk into the room to have a conversation.
I looked outside and there were 2 mulch trucks and chain saws all over the front lawn. There were at least 4 lawn men standing around watching the limbs fall, like construction men. Do you ever see them work? These lawn men were in a conspiracy to either commit a crime or watch one. And they did-both.
For some reason, I thought my husband had hired them to trim the long branches, not even close. They sawed off every limb on all 3 trees up to 10 feet. I looked out the window in horror at what looked like 3 dark, green mint ice cream cones. My magnificent trees were naked and I cried, after I said things that I will have to repent of.
A zillion limbs had been amputated and in their places were bare wooden holes like fresh wounds and the trees were crying white tears right down to the ground. The gorgeous trees had been mutilated, dismembered, and disfigured. I thought to myself that this is a bad dream and when I wake up, I won't be able to see my neighbor's dog poop on our lawn.
I was devastated, but the deed was done. To further annoy me, my lawn man got all kinds of comliments from our neighbor lawn men. You know how they are, sticking together, thicker than thieves.
Lawn men love nakes trees or should I say NO trees. What was there to love? Maybe my lawn man was happy that the neighbors could watch us eat in our kitchen while they are hopeful to see some table sex.
So this week was spring break and my lawn man went to work preparing the barren ground under the 3 trees for grass growth. For 6 days in a row, he raked, plowed, mashed, and arranged the dirt under the trees so he could plant grass seed in the shade that never sees the sun.
There have been spring breaks where it rained everyday, a cold rain, but not this one.The weather was so nice he even got sunburnt one day. Whats with that?
So instead of doing our income tax, he prioritized his to do list and the naked trees got all his attention. I was shocked by how he worked and was delighted that his back hurt and I was fuming that he was so happy to soon run his lawnmower under the trees. HUH??
It should be against the law to change the natural growth of any tree, unless the roots have encircled the earth and pushed their way up through your bedroom floor and are protruding arrogantly through your mattress.
One of our neighbors was so impressed that he hired the same tree people to butcher his trees. How lucky for me, now I can see his family watching TV in their living room and if I am lucky , I might see some living room sex.
My every move is observable now. That's right, the whole world can see in my house and I hate it.It's not like I have anything to hide, I just want to be able to hide something if I want to, that's all. Is that too much to ask?
But the good news is this, tree murderers will not go unpunished. They deserve whatever is coming to them and it won't be good. I just pray that I live to see it happen.
My lawn man just had 10 days off for a spring break. He worked diligently everyday on our lawn, the same lawn that HAD 3 gorgeous evergreen trees.
I find it difficult to even talk about those trees. They were gigantic Christmas trees, fat and happy. I will admit that they owned our front yard. They were incredibly beautiful in the winter when it snowed, as the brances just glistened with icicles and white flakes. They were a breath-taking scene and I loved them. They were shade in the hot summer and totally hid the front of our house, which gave us ultimate privacy. But for some reason, my husband took a disliking to them and all but murdered each one.
It all began with one cedar tree spreading its branches over our driveway. Our cars went right under the branches with room to spare, but my lawn man considered them a hazard of some kind. The trees were rabbit and squirrel homes.
Anyway, my lawn man decided to trim the tree in the driveway and did some insane hacking on it. This proved to be a vast job and he called in the Calvary, the professional lawn men.
I saw my lawn man standing knee deep in branches while he performed his tree killing project. Why?? So he could ride his lawn mower under the tree where there was no grass. Not even weeds grew under those trees.
I came to understand a little of his intimidation of trees in general when last summer while he was mowing the back yard, a huge limb fell down from a 40 foot tree and almost hit him. I believed he called it 'a narrow escape', but I like to think of it as an omen.
But it was much more than that ! I think that trees can talk and the 3 trees in the front yard sent an SOS to the back yard trees. It was a distress call in self defense and the message went like this-he is a tree murderer. Get him before he gets us! This has to be the explanation for the near miss. What are the odds of a huge branch falling from a healthy tree.
Sadly the tree message came too late. I awakened one morning to the sound of a Chain Saw Massacre, not that I ever watched such trash ! I ask you, is there a more annoying noise than a gas-powered chain saw, even more annoying than a paper shredder? I swear he only shreds paper when I walk into the room to have a conversation.
I looked outside and there were 2 mulch trucks and chain saws all over the front lawn. There were at least 4 lawn men standing around watching the limbs fall, like construction men. Do you ever see them work? These lawn men were in a conspiracy to either commit a crime or watch one. And they did-both.
For some reason, I thought my husband had hired them to trim the long branches, not even close. They sawed off every limb on all 3 trees up to 10 feet. I looked out the window in horror at what looked like 3 dark, green mint ice cream cones. My magnificent trees were naked and I cried, after I said things that I will have to repent of.
A zillion limbs had been amputated and in their places were bare wooden holes like fresh wounds and the trees were crying white tears right down to the ground. The gorgeous trees had been mutilated, dismembered, and disfigured. I thought to myself that this is a bad dream and when I wake up, I won't be able to see my neighbor's dog poop on our lawn.
I was devastated, but the deed was done. To further annoy me, my lawn man got all kinds of comliments from our neighbor lawn men. You know how they are, sticking together, thicker than thieves.
Lawn men love nakes trees or should I say NO trees. What was there to love? Maybe my lawn man was happy that the neighbors could watch us eat in our kitchen while they are hopeful to see some table sex.
So this week was spring break and my lawn man went to work preparing the barren ground under the 3 trees for grass growth. For 6 days in a row, he raked, plowed, mashed, and arranged the dirt under the trees so he could plant grass seed in the shade that never sees the sun.
There have been spring breaks where it rained everyday, a cold rain, but not this one.The weather was so nice he even got sunburnt one day. Whats with that?
So instead of doing our income tax, he prioritized his to do list and the naked trees got all his attention. I was shocked by how he worked and was delighted that his back hurt and I was fuming that he was so happy to soon run his lawnmower under the trees. HUH??
It should be against the law to change the natural growth of any tree, unless the roots have encircled the earth and pushed their way up through your bedroom floor and are protruding arrogantly through your mattress.
One of our neighbors was so impressed that he hired the same tree people to butcher his trees. How lucky for me, now I can see his family watching TV in their living room and if I am lucky , I might see some living room sex.
My every move is observable now. That's right, the whole world can see in my house and I hate it.It's not like I have anything to hide, I just want to be able to hide something if I want to, that's all. Is that too much to ask?
But the good news is this, tree murderers will not go unpunished. They deserve whatever is coming to them and it won't be good. I just pray that I live to see it happen.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Love vs Football
We had an interesting winter this year with 2 major snow storms a few days apart, leaving us in 50 inches of snow. But all how beautiful it was to see, not to travel in, but just seeing the purity of the snow. I will always love it.
I stayed at my brother's house for both storms, at that time he needed me. He had just lost the love of his life and he was hurting. The snow was a great distraction and the kids had a blast disappearing in the banks with the dog.
Fortunately for Tim, he knows 'people' who come and clear his death trap of a driveway so he can get out. Of course, they piled it up in front of my car and I had to shovel the tires to get free. My poor husband is not so lucky. He does the driveway clearing himself.
This year he had several obstacles. First the snow blower would not work, so he had to shovel the long driveway with the help of one man child. The second storm came a few days later and his shovel broke and this was of course the last snow shovel in this county.
And so finally I made it back home. My dear little adventurous Max, tried for days to figure out how he could get off the deck and wander in the yard, his domain. He stood on his back legs and peeped as far as he could. My husband shoveled a small area for Max and Peanut (our Chihauhaus so they could use it as their facility). After a few days there must have been 100 turds out there.
Anyway, one day, Max found a way out. He crawled between the railing of the deck near the house where the over head of the roof came to protect the area from snow. The problem was, he couldn't find the wide opening in the one railing and he was stuck by the huge drift of snow.
Ok, so I feel sorry for him and I grabbed a pair of slippers and announced on deaf ears that the dog couldn't get back in. Sadly the Ravens game was on and so there was no acknowledgement of a problem. It wasn't as if they were winning, you know.
So I slowly headed down the side of the house and forgot about the window well, I stepped on it and went crashing inside the well. I lay there flat on my back hoping I hadn't broken anything and poor Max is watching me.
My son tells my husband who jumps up from his chair and TV watching and stood at the door looking at me lying on the deck and poor Max shivering. It was then that he said a few words that I am pretty sure were not in the Bible.
He came out, stepped past me, as I struggled to get out of the well. He rescued the dog and went inside still muttering those same strange words. I finally got out of the well and crawled in the house.
The well is usually covered by the grill, but for whatever reason, the grill was buried in the snow.
I figure a window well cover cost maybe $4 tops. I came into the house expecting some sympathy, instead I got a lecture.
"It took me 3 hrs to landscape that well, "he kept repeating, still no concern over my condition, just the well.
When a wife has to compare her self worth to a window well and loses the comparison, she realizes, it must be over. Where is the love?
I stayed at my brother's house for both storms, at that time he needed me. He had just lost the love of his life and he was hurting. The snow was a great distraction and the kids had a blast disappearing in the banks with the dog.
Fortunately for Tim, he knows 'people' who come and clear his death trap of a driveway so he can get out. Of course, they piled it up in front of my car and I had to shovel the tires to get free. My poor husband is not so lucky. He does the driveway clearing himself.
This year he had several obstacles. First the snow blower would not work, so he had to shovel the long driveway with the help of one man child. The second storm came a few days later and his shovel broke and this was of course the last snow shovel in this county.
And so finally I made it back home. My dear little adventurous Max, tried for days to figure out how he could get off the deck and wander in the yard, his domain. He stood on his back legs and peeped as far as he could. My husband shoveled a small area for Max and Peanut (our Chihauhaus so they could use it as their facility). After a few days there must have been 100 turds out there.
Anyway, one day, Max found a way out. He crawled between the railing of the deck near the house where the over head of the roof came to protect the area from snow. The problem was, he couldn't find the wide opening in the one railing and he was stuck by the huge drift of snow.
Ok, so I feel sorry for him and I grabbed a pair of slippers and announced on deaf ears that the dog couldn't get back in. Sadly the Ravens game was on and so there was no acknowledgement of a problem. It wasn't as if they were winning, you know.
So I slowly headed down the side of the house and forgot about the window well, I stepped on it and went crashing inside the well. I lay there flat on my back hoping I hadn't broken anything and poor Max is watching me.
My son tells my husband who jumps up from his chair and TV watching and stood at the door looking at me lying on the deck and poor Max shivering. It was then that he said a few words that I am pretty sure were not in the Bible.
He came out, stepped past me, as I struggled to get out of the well. He rescued the dog and went inside still muttering those same strange words. I finally got out of the well and crawled in the house.
The well is usually covered by the grill, but for whatever reason, the grill was buried in the snow.
I figure a window well cover cost maybe $4 tops. I came into the house expecting some sympathy, instead I got a lecture.
"It took me 3 hrs to landscape that well, "he kept repeating, still no concern over my condition, just the well.
When a wife has to compare her self worth to a window well and loses the comparison, she realizes, it must be over. Where is the love?
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The Secret
For many years mental illness and the stereotype that goes with such a big problem was not spoken of by the family. Mental illness was not something to be proud of and is still very difficult to treat. It is not like an infection when a few antibiotics make it go away, it is like a festering wound that no one ever hears about. It is a well kept secret.
For many years as well, substance abuse has taken the same kind of reaction, even from family members. Even though we can't deny it is a disease, we still see it as a menace to the family and we can't figure out why the one in the spiders web just doesn't say no. Ask a cigarette smoker how hard it is to stop smoking. Ask an alcoholic how hard it is to say no to a beer. Ask someone addicted to pain meds how they crave them daily. Ask a person on benzodiazapines to try to face life with its many issues without this pill.
I had a great blessing this weekend. I went to a church in my hometown and got to speak on Worry. The cover of my book on addictions was showing up on the power point. The talk went well and I wasn't used to the applause throughout my talk. I knew then, that I had a job to do.
I was not the key speaker, but afterwards she got up to talk and she asked for raised hands of those women who have or had addiction problems in their family. I looked around and hands went up all over the place. The secrets were out, there was no need to hide them anymore.
The group of about 56 women were all suffering or had suffered such pain as had their loved ones that were caught in the spider's web.
We cried. We were not alone. I spoke on carrying the heavy burden to the cross and leaving it there. We can't fix our broken loved one, only God can.
I have never spoken in front of a group and I was nervous, especially since the topic was also on Martha and Mary and the lady who spoke before me said everything I had written down. So I had to get up and speak sort of cold turkey.
I expressed my concern to my friend next to me, but she touched my hand and said,"God will tell you what to say, don't worry. He will." And He did.
The pastor's wife at the church got up to speak later that day and she told the story of her alcoholic son. We later held one another and cried.
Afterwards, many bought my book and I wrote a note to them as they shared their various stories in tears. We all needed each other that day and we left with a new hope.
I will never forget it.
For many years as well, substance abuse has taken the same kind of reaction, even from family members. Even though we can't deny it is a disease, we still see it as a menace to the family and we can't figure out why the one in the spiders web just doesn't say no. Ask a cigarette smoker how hard it is to stop smoking. Ask an alcoholic how hard it is to say no to a beer. Ask someone addicted to pain meds how they crave them daily. Ask a person on benzodiazapines to try to face life with its many issues without this pill.
I had a great blessing this weekend. I went to a church in my hometown and got to speak on Worry. The cover of my book on addictions was showing up on the power point. The talk went well and I wasn't used to the applause throughout my talk. I knew then, that I had a job to do.
I was not the key speaker, but afterwards she got up to talk and she asked for raised hands of those women who have or had addiction problems in their family. I looked around and hands went up all over the place. The secrets were out, there was no need to hide them anymore.
The group of about 56 women were all suffering or had suffered such pain as had their loved ones that were caught in the spider's web.
We cried. We were not alone. I spoke on carrying the heavy burden to the cross and leaving it there. We can't fix our broken loved one, only God can.
I have never spoken in front of a group and I was nervous, especially since the topic was also on Martha and Mary and the lady who spoke before me said everything I had written down. So I had to get up and speak sort of cold turkey.
I expressed my concern to my friend next to me, but she touched my hand and said,"God will tell you what to say, don't worry. He will." And He did.
The pastor's wife at the church got up to speak later that day and she told the story of her alcoholic son. We later held one another and cried.
Afterwards, many bought my book and I wrote a note to them as they shared their various stories in tears. We all needed each other that day and we left with a new hope.
I will never forget it.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Drink from the cup !
I have been reading my brother's writings in his wife Lara's blogs. Each day I want to see him, to hold him and make his pain go away, or as he prayed to God at 3am the morning she died, "Father take this cup from me." But he had to drink the cup, it was the plan, one we would ever understand.
Just like his pain and loneliness for his "best friend". They were close, they worked hard to keep their marriage flickering. Oh dear friends, it just doesn't happen, we have to make it work. I am pretty sure that it takes two to make it flourish.
Parenting falls in there somewhere where you have to agree on a course of discipline. More work, more talking, more continuity.
My own father was 35 yrs old with 3 small children when our mother was stricken with TB. She had to go away to Pine Bluff where she had a nervous breakdown and then had to stay with our grandmother while she was in a catatonic state. My Dad kept his job, got outside help, and we as kids will do, tried to kill each other when he was gone to work.
He too would have wanted the cup taken away, to not have to drink, but he drank. It was the plan.
So many times in our lives we just want sorrowing things to just go away and not drink from the cup. Most of us will have to drink. This is what God has decided.
We spend endless hours grieving, little things remind us of the one we lost as if placed there in front of us to cause us more pain. But what we immediately do is cry, we grieve. This is all part of the healing process. Will the pain ever go away? Probably not, but it will not stay in first place, the children have to be taken care of, the church work goes on. Yes my brother had to drink that cup, just as we all will some day. Someday, we will be the one watching a loved one go home, or we will be the one going home. As Tim says, mortality is 100% in humans.
Our day will come. But will we get the send off that Lara got. She gladly gave up her life, kept upbeat, and I know she looked down from Heaven the night of the memorial service and saw the raised hands. I know she smiled and I am sure she cried from joy. This was her life as a pastor's wife, to win souls.
So as time ticks slowly by, Tim will heal. In the meantime, we have to wait and watch as he grows in God's strength.
Just like his pain and loneliness for his "best friend". They were close, they worked hard to keep their marriage flickering. Oh dear friends, it just doesn't happen, we have to make it work. I am pretty sure that it takes two to make it flourish.
Parenting falls in there somewhere where you have to agree on a course of discipline. More work, more talking, more continuity.
My own father was 35 yrs old with 3 small children when our mother was stricken with TB. She had to go away to Pine Bluff where she had a nervous breakdown and then had to stay with our grandmother while she was in a catatonic state. My Dad kept his job, got outside help, and we as kids will do, tried to kill each other when he was gone to work.
He too would have wanted the cup taken away, to not have to drink, but he drank. It was the plan.
So many times in our lives we just want sorrowing things to just go away and not drink from the cup. Most of us will have to drink. This is what God has decided.
We spend endless hours grieving, little things remind us of the one we lost as if placed there in front of us to cause us more pain. But what we immediately do is cry, we grieve. This is all part of the healing process. Will the pain ever go away? Probably not, but it will not stay in first place, the children have to be taken care of, the church work goes on. Yes my brother had to drink that cup, just as we all will some day. Someday, we will be the one watching a loved one go home, or we will be the one going home. As Tim says, mortality is 100% in humans.
Our day will come. But will we get the send off that Lara got. She gladly gave up her life, kept upbeat, and I know she looked down from Heaven the night of the memorial service and saw the raised hands. I know she smiled and I am sure she cried from joy. This was her life as a pastor's wife, to win souls.
So as time ticks slowly by, Tim will heal. In the meantime, we have to wait and watch as he grows in God's strength.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Spiritual Sister
I don't recall asking for a spiritual sister but I got one just the same, Cathy Dent. God told her that I needed her, a listening ear, a prayer warrior and a person to hold me accountable for what I believed in.
I have always had the tendency to erupt before I think, I gets nuts on the phone, I lose my self-control and she saw it. One day she walked up to me and said this," Chris out, Jesus in". I took a few deep breaths and that is what happened, Chris left and Jesus came to take my place.
Have I reached my goal of a better approach, I am afraid not, but not a day goes by that I do not think of her words, "Chris out, Jesus in."
Now I can take a deep breath and remember her loving words to me. She knew that I was a work in progress, God must have told her. How else could we have been thrown together this way?
I saw her many times when Lara was sick. She rubbed Lara in lotion, she rubbed Lara' s sore legs, she loved on her in a quiet way, like God would do. One day she had to go to work, but Lara was in pain that day, the day before Lara went Home. Cathy didn't want to leave her, she didn't care about work or being late, her concern was for Lara.
Now that we have lost Lara, I feel her concern for me. She checks in on me to make sure that I am letting Jesus in. She is patient and tolerant of me when I fall short. She is forgiving and loving. She is a true spiritual sister and I am so blessed to have her in my life.
I hope she reads this and understands how God was able to use her in my hurting, angry life. My anger that Lara was being taken and my home issues. She was sent to help clean the wounds and mend the broken heart.
Cathy has a testimony that only a few know, but she knows of pain and heartache, she knows of alcohol abuse, she has been there. So God uses her life to mend the broken lives of others.
I don't know what I ever did to deserve her but I thank God for sending her to me. I am never letting her go to far away.
Chris out, Jesus in !!!
I have always had the tendency to erupt before I think, I gets nuts on the phone, I lose my self-control and she saw it. One day she walked up to me and said this," Chris out, Jesus in". I took a few deep breaths and that is what happened, Chris left and Jesus came to take my place.
Have I reached my goal of a better approach, I am afraid not, but not a day goes by that I do not think of her words, "Chris out, Jesus in."
Now I can take a deep breath and remember her loving words to me. She knew that I was a work in progress, God must have told her. How else could we have been thrown together this way?
I saw her many times when Lara was sick. She rubbed Lara in lotion, she rubbed Lara' s sore legs, she loved on her in a quiet way, like God would do. One day she had to go to work, but Lara was in pain that day, the day before Lara went Home. Cathy didn't want to leave her, she didn't care about work or being late, her concern was for Lara.
Now that we have lost Lara, I feel her concern for me. She checks in on me to make sure that I am letting Jesus in. She is patient and tolerant of me when I fall short. She is forgiving and loving. She is a true spiritual sister and I am so blessed to have her in my life.
I hope she reads this and understands how God was able to use her in my hurting, angry life. My anger that Lara was being taken and my home issues. She was sent to help clean the wounds and mend the broken heart.
Cathy has a testimony that only a few know, but she knows of pain and heartache, she knows of alcohol abuse, she has been there. So God uses her life to mend the broken lives of others.
I don't know what I ever did to deserve her but I thank God for sending her to me. I am never letting her go to far away.
Chris out, Jesus in !!!
Monday, February 22, 2010
When Peace Finally Comes
Last night the 21st of February, I was privileged to be in a memorial service which was a grand memorial for a lady that many loved and admired, my sister-in-law Lara. I didn't know what to expect that night or how my brother Tim would be able to do the service, so I was in for a huge surprise.
First the auditorium was packed, approx 1200 guests to pay our tributes. Her best friends, Christy and Marcy flew in from out of state. They gave touching accounts of how they loved Lara. Then her friends from Mt Oak came and the tears kept coming. Lastly her mom spoke and it was the most beautiful ulogogy I have ever heard, a mom giving a tribute to her 39 year old daughter.
After 14 months, Lara had fought all she could fight and then God called her home Feb 5th, 2010. She is no longer suffering and God took her home to heal her.
I admit that I struggled with the anger phase of her illness, why her? Why take her from her little children and Tim? But last night when Mark and Pat sang the closing song The Holy City, I let my anger go. God had a purpose for Lara's death. The auditorium was packed with people, many did not even attend church. So Tim's message was a mixture of preaching, remembering, and crying. But something he said stuck in my mind- "We are all dying whether we like it or not, but are we ready." Hands were raised all over the church. Lara was in Heaven rejoicing, I am sure of that.
I am sure that Tim will be united with her. I know how his heart aches for her, but seeing those raised hands meant the world to him, soul-saving is his passion as was Lara's.
So after that service last night, I finally found some peace. There was no room for anger, God had a plan and it was for someone in that service or maybe many. We may never know this side of eternity what impact her life had on others.
Now as an Aunt, I plan to spend time with Lara and Tim's kids. I want to be a part of their lives like never before. I owe her that much.
On Saturday the 20th, I got my first opportunity to be that Aunt. My son Stephen and I picked up Nathan and Mark and we went to Glen Burnie to see Wally's girls play basketball. It was a fun time and a new beginning. I was going to be a part of their lives as I always should have been.
The inner peace was slowly coming, the anger was leaving and finally I understood. God had a plan, all along there had been a plan. A time for a family to get closer together, Lara would have loved to have seen that, but maybe she did. Maybe she knows that I am going to hang out with her kids and love them like never before. It was all in a great plan followed by a peace that passes all understanding. It feels so good.
First the auditorium was packed, approx 1200 guests to pay our tributes. Her best friends, Christy and Marcy flew in from out of state. They gave touching accounts of how they loved Lara. Then her friends from Mt Oak came and the tears kept coming. Lastly her mom spoke and it was the most beautiful ulogogy I have ever heard, a mom giving a tribute to her 39 year old daughter.
After 14 months, Lara had fought all she could fight and then God called her home Feb 5th, 2010. She is no longer suffering and God took her home to heal her.
I admit that I struggled with the anger phase of her illness, why her? Why take her from her little children and Tim? But last night when Mark and Pat sang the closing song The Holy City, I let my anger go. God had a purpose for Lara's death. The auditorium was packed with people, many did not even attend church. So Tim's message was a mixture of preaching, remembering, and crying. But something he said stuck in my mind- "We are all dying whether we like it or not, but are we ready." Hands were raised all over the church. Lara was in Heaven rejoicing, I am sure of that.
I am sure that Tim will be united with her. I know how his heart aches for her, but seeing those raised hands meant the world to him, soul-saving is his passion as was Lara's.
So after that service last night, I finally found some peace. There was no room for anger, God had a plan and it was for someone in that service or maybe many. We may never know this side of eternity what impact her life had on others.
Now as an Aunt, I plan to spend time with Lara and Tim's kids. I want to be a part of their lives like never before. I owe her that much.
On Saturday the 20th, I got my first opportunity to be that Aunt. My son Stephen and I picked up Nathan and Mark and we went to Glen Burnie to see Wally's girls play basketball. It was a fun time and a new beginning. I was going to be a part of their lives as I always should have been.
The inner peace was slowly coming, the anger was leaving and finally I understood. God had a plan, all along there had been a plan. A time for a family to get closer together, Lara would have loved to have seen that, but maybe she did. Maybe she knows that I am going to hang out with her kids and love them like never before. It was all in a great plan followed by a peace that passes all understanding. It feels so good.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Walking in Paradise
February 5th, 2010, Lara left her earthy tent and went to walk in Paradise. The grave side service had to be delayed due to the massive snow. Finally Feb. 12th at 2:30 pm the service out in the snow and mud was conducted by my brother,Tim, in his grief for his loss of not only the mother of his children, but his best friend.
He spoke to his children, reminding them that "Mommy lived in a tent" like we all do and the tent eventually wastes away, but "Mommy is not in her tent now, she is in Paradise". We had to visualize that she was the beautiful woman God created, with her beautiful smile, long thick hair, and vibrant personality. We had to visualize that she was talking and walking on the streets of gold. Tim spoke on that vision of how much he wanted to go there with her or if "our Lord would come back now". I could feel the chill bumps, not from the cold but from the presence of God. This would be the beginning of all of us seeing the hand of God touch a family.
The casket was not lowered in the ground. We all went back to Tim's. The whole atmosphere changed, Neil went out for pizza and drinks, Wally's girls played with Tim's kids and we talked and laughed a lot and cried some. But this was just going to be the beginning of the celebration.
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, a special day for Tim and Lara. How many couples can say that the one they love is walking in Paradise? Tim is dealing with his pain in his own quiet way and my heart is bursting to hold him and make the pain go away. But that will take time as he waits to see his sweetheart once again.
Next Sunday, we will have the celebration/memorial service for Lara in the largest auditorium in this area, in Westminster High School. 1000 people are expected, since two churches are involved and schools and colleges where Lara did signing for the deaf.
There will be a DVD of Lara's life and her marriage, along with the children and special events. There will be special music and singing as we honor her with our last farewells. The night will be special to everyone that loved Lara. Tim will be conducting the service, only God can give him the strength to say what he needs to say.
Lara was taken for a reason, that none of us will ever understand on this side of Heaven, but miracles will start to unfold, as lives are touched by not only believers but unbelievers as well.
After the ceremony, Tim plans to get the lives of his children and his home back on track. There will be no outside cleaning volunteers, or laundry people such as me and mother, no food brought in, the little family is going to band together and make the house the same home it always was. Sunflowers are all over the place in the house, as this was Lara's favorite. Lara is all over the house , in every corner, and especially in her daughter Rebekah, who looks just like her.
Life will go on and many of us will forget, but a few of us will stay around to remember Tim's pain. We will be there if he needs help, that's what families are for.
Today I went out to get a Valentine's card and a gift for my husband, something I haven't done is a very long time. When I give it to him, I will tell him that I love him, words that are long over-due.
He spoke to his children, reminding them that "Mommy lived in a tent" like we all do and the tent eventually wastes away, but "Mommy is not in her tent now, she is in Paradise". We had to visualize that she was the beautiful woman God created, with her beautiful smile, long thick hair, and vibrant personality. We had to visualize that she was talking and walking on the streets of gold. Tim spoke on that vision of how much he wanted to go there with her or if "our Lord would come back now". I could feel the chill bumps, not from the cold but from the presence of God. This would be the beginning of all of us seeing the hand of God touch a family.
The casket was not lowered in the ground. We all went back to Tim's. The whole atmosphere changed, Neil went out for pizza and drinks, Wally's girls played with Tim's kids and we talked and laughed a lot and cried some. But this was just going to be the beginning of the celebration.
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, a special day for Tim and Lara. How many couples can say that the one they love is walking in Paradise? Tim is dealing with his pain in his own quiet way and my heart is bursting to hold him and make the pain go away. But that will take time as he waits to see his sweetheart once again.
Next Sunday, we will have the celebration/memorial service for Lara in the largest auditorium in this area, in Westminster High School. 1000 people are expected, since two churches are involved and schools and colleges where Lara did signing for the deaf.
There will be a DVD of Lara's life and her marriage, along with the children and special events. There will be special music and singing as we honor her with our last farewells. The night will be special to everyone that loved Lara. Tim will be conducting the service, only God can give him the strength to say what he needs to say.
Lara was taken for a reason, that none of us will ever understand on this side of Heaven, but miracles will start to unfold, as lives are touched by not only believers but unbelievers as well.
After the ceremony, Tim plans to get the lives of his children and his home back on track. There will be no outside cleaning volunteers, or laundry people such as me and mother, no food brought in, the little family is going to band together and make the house the same home it always was. Sunflowers are all over the place in the house, as this was Lara's favorite. Lara is all over the house , in every corner, and especially in her daughter Rebekah, who looks just like her.
Life will go on and many of us will forget, but a few of us will stay around to remember Tim's pain. We will be there if he needs help, that's what families are for.
Today I went out to get a Valentine's card and a gift for my husband, something I haven't done is a very long time. When I give it to him, I will tell him that I love him, words that are long over-due.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Letting Go
How easy it is for those of us who have not suffered such a loss as my brother this past week. We have all known for a year that God was taking Lara home. What we didn't know and will not know on this side of eternity-WHY? My heart cries out to God for answers, for some hidden meaning, but I just look at my brother and his three young children and I see no answers.
But what I have seen is the out-pouring of love from a church. Meals have been coming on a regular basis for months. The house has been cleaned. The kids got hair cuts, all volunteering. There were many friends that sat with Lara that last month in her home. People were always asking, "what can I do?" The driveway was always plowed and the cars cleaned off. The whole church feft my brother's pain and this was obvious in the giving from their heart for a hurting family. Tim was their pastor and he spent many hours tending to the needs of others, this time he needed them and they were there for him. I have never seen such love in all my life.
Today due to the snow storms, we will have a family graveside ceremony. It will be a small gathering of loved ones, Lara's children, her parents, her sister and husband and of course Tim's brothers and me. Oh how I wish I could hold him and ease his pain, but I know he has to go down this road alone.
I do not understand his hurting, since I have not been there. Only those who have lost a beloved mate and best friend can begin to understand.
I 'weathered the storm' with Tim, actually 2 snow storms. I got to hold him, but there was little talking. Words were not important, it was the closeness of a sister to her brother.
As he said,"Lara is all over this house". And how true that is, it was her home that she decorated like she wanted to. Her daughter, Rebekah, looks exactly like her mom and has a similar personality. Mark is the youngest and his Dad is his best friend, they hang tight. Nathan, the oldest, is quiet like his Dad.
The snow kept all company away, the days were full of games, but then the sun went down and there was the deafening silence where even I felt the loss of one who was capable of lighting up a room by her presence. She was a devoted mother and pastor's wife.
Lara and Tim took in the homeless, the lost, and the needy. Their kids were moved out of their bedrooms to accomodate the strangers. Lara stood by Tim's request, no matter what they were, she was next to him to support and encourage. She was his best friend.
The final celebration of her life will be Sunday the 21st at Westminster HS auditorium, a place large enough to hold all the lives that she has touched, family and friends. There will be a DVD of her life and marriage. We will see the woman she truly was, some of us for the first time.
So through all this suffering, Tim has busied himself with his kids. They adore him and God was merciful to the kids by giving them such a loving father.
Now he will assume two roles as a mom is missing from their lives. Do they think of her at night when all is quiet, do they miss the strict TV rules, yes I am sure they do? They have inner pain and need our love and affection to get them through these trying times.
Next week, school will be open again, we hope , and that distraction will be good for the kids, but Tim will be in his office alone. He will have time to cry out to God and let go.
I was blessed to be with her when she took her last breath and God gave me the courage to give her the last dose of pain medicine. Her hard breathing became relaxed. We woke the children and her parents, along with my mother and we silently watched as God took Lara home to heal her there. Lara's mom sang Amazing Grace, Wally read from the Bible and oh the tears.
She is home with our Lord now, she has her long hair back, her brilliant smile, her vibrant personality, and she can talk, clearly. I look forward to seeing her that way again. This is the hope we have, that God takes us home and fixes us, rids us of disease and cancer, a place of peace.
And so Lara, we never got close as good friends, and I will always regret that, but I promise you, I will be the best Aunt your kids will ever know. I will not forget my brother's breaking heart or your lonely children. Just like I took care of your dog last year, and just like I gave you the resting medication you needed, I will rise up and take care of your children when I can. I will watch their games and we will stay close. I can't undo the years that I chose to stay away, as I was dealing with issues in my own home, but I can make it up now and I will.
When you see Dad in Heaven say "I love you" to him and that "I miss him."
But what I have seen is the out-pouring of love from a church. Meals have been coming on a regular basis for months. The house has been cleaned. The kids got hair cuts, all volunteering. There were many friends that sat with Lara that last month in her home. People were always asking, "what can I do?" The driveway was always plowed and the cars cleaned off. The whole church feft my brother's pain and this was obvious in the giving from their heart for a hurting family. Tim was their pastor and he spent many hours tending to the needs of others, this time he needed them and they were there for him. I have never seen such love in all my life.
Today due to the snow storms, we will have a family graveside ceremony. It will be a small gathering of loved ones, Lara's children, her parents, her sister and husband and of course Tim's brothers and me. Oh how I wish I could hold him and ease his pain, but I know he has to go down this road alone.
I do not understand his hurting, since I have not been there. Only those who have lost a beloved mate and best friend can begin to understand.
I 'weathered the storm' with Tim, actually 2 snow storms. I got to hold him, but there was little talking. Words were not important, it was the closeness of a sister to her brother.
As he said,"Lara is all over this house". And how true that is, it was her home that she decorated like she wanted to. Her daughter, Rebekah, looks exactly like her mom and has a similar personality. Mark is the youngest and his Dad is his best friend, they hang tight. Nathan, the oldest, is quiet like his Dad.
The snow kept all company away, the days were full of games, but then the sun went down and there was the deafening silence where even I felt the loss of one who was capable of lighting up a room by her presence. She was a devoted mother and pastor's wife.
Lara and Tim took in the homeless, the lost, and the needy. Their kids were moved out of their bedrooms to accomodate the strangers. Lara stood by Tim's request, no matter what they were, she was next to him to support and encourage. She was his best friend.
The final celebration of her life will be Sunday the 21st at Westminster HS auditorium, a place large enough to hold all the lives that she has touched, family and friends. There will be a DVD of her life and marriage. We will see the woman she truly was, some of us for the first time.
So through all this suffering, Tim has busied himself with his kids. They adore him and God was merciful to the kids by giving them such a loving father.
Now he will assume two roles as a mom is missing from their lives. Do they think of her at night when all is quiet, do they miss the strict TV rules, yes I am sure they do? They have inner pain and need our love and affection to get them through these trying times.
Next week, school will be open again, we hope , and that distraction will be good for the kids, but Tim will be in his office alone. He will have time to cry out to God and let go.
I was blessed to be with her when she took her last breath and God gave me the courage to give her the last dose of pain medicine. Her hard breathing became relaxed. We woke the children and her parents, along with my mother and we silently watched as God took Lara home to heal her there. Lara's mom sang Amazing Grace, Wally read from the Bible and oh the tears.
She is home with our Lord now, she has her long hair back, her brilliant smile, her vibrant personality, and she can talk, clearly. I look forward to seeing her that way again. This is the hope we have, that God takes us home and fixes us, rids us of disease and cancer, a place of peace.
And so Lara, we never got close as good friends, and I will always regret that, but I promise you, I will be the best Aunt your kids will ever know. I will not forget my brother's breaking heart or your lonely children. Just like I took care of your dog last year, and just like I gave you the resting medication you needed, I will rise up and take care of your children when I can. I will watch their games and we will stay close. I can't undo the years that I chose to stay away, as I was dealing with issues in my own home, but I can make it up now and I will.
When you see Dad in Heaven say "I love you" to him and that "I miss him."
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Let it Snow !!
I have to say that I have missed driving to and from work in the dark in a blizzard, but I am happy to report that the snow road rules came back to haunt me.
In hill country, the rules are a little different. You see, a car is far more likely to slide sideways so the hills become treacherous to some, but others like sliding sideways and try desperately to hit my car as I cruise along at 20 miles per hour on icey roads in a blizzard.
I left my brother's house before dark, a typically 20 minute ride which turned into a one hour drive. There were people going everywhere, where were they going?
The snow plows were jet speeding down the road, tossing snow like fog all over my car so I couldn't see.
Others were passing me, since I was obviously driving too slow and they had to get somewhere in a hurry on a Saturday at 4pm, what was with that??
One man in a truck was zig zagging down the highway, totally out of control. He didn't seem to notice that he was slipping or that it was snowing.
Cars were trying to turn corners and kept right on turning. I have to admit, I was more than scared. And kept asking myself, where were they going for crying out loud?
I know that I had to be on the highway, since I was trying to help my brother with his sick wife and yes I had to go home. But all those other people, what were they doing.??? Besides trying to kill me, I have no idea.
I dared not apply the brakes, but going downhill, a car kind of does its own thing. So I was meeting the oncoming traffic with one little line separating us. One little slip and my poor Sam would have been a crumbled cookie. And yes I care more for Sam than I do me. I always have. But even with her 4 wheel drive, I felt as if I was driving on iceskates.
There were lanes of traffic and no one could see the lines on the roads. We were in a snow emergency mode and that little fact seems to cause people to get out of their warm little houses and drive nowhere. What are they thinking and where are they going???
Cars were in ditches and tow trucks were everywhere,along with police cars with lights flashing. There were fender benders and accidents all around. Yes the snow was beautiful but I really only could think of living to get home and drive out in that white stuff again.
Sam loved it, it was our first big ride in the snow since I bought her in 2004. But since she needs new tires she is not on top of her game. You can't blame that on her, poor thing. She drove like I walk as if I have no treads on my shoes.
It was of little comfort to me to see that people still drive like idiots and dare devils. When a snow emergency plan is in effect, only necessary vehicles are supposed to be on the road. You would have thought it was Christmas Eve and everyone had last minute shopping to do.
Well now I sit here in mynice warm little house and I may never drive in a blizzard again. I am getting too old for this game. Instead of humming Christmas Caroles like Let it Snow, I was praying, Please God, just let me live another hour to get home!!!!
In hill country, the rules are a little different. You see, a car is far more likely to slide sideways so the hills become treacherous to some, but others like sliding sideways and try desperately to hit my car as I cruise along at 20 miles per hour on icey roads in a blizzard.
I left my brother's house before dark, a typically 20 minute ride which turned into a one hour drive. There were people going everywhere, where were they going?
The snow plows were jet speeding down the road, tossing snow like fog all over my car so I couldn't see.
Others were passing me, since I was obviously driving too slow and they had to get somewhere in a hurry on a Saturday at 4pm, what was with that??
One man in a truck was zig zagging down the highway, totally out of control. He didn't seem to notice that he was slipping or that it was snowing.
Cars were trying to turn corners and kept right on turning. I have to admit, I was more than scared. And kept asking myself, where were they going for crying out loud?
I know that I had to be on the highway, since I was trying to help my brother with his sick wife and yes I had to go home. But all those other people, what were they doing.??? Besides trying to kill me, I have no idea.
I dared not apply the brakes, but going downhill, a car kind of does its own thing. So I was meeting the oncoming traffic with one little line separating us. One little slip and my poor Sam would have been a crumbled cookie. And yes I care more for Sam than I do me. I always have. But even with her 4 wheel drive, I felt as if I was driving on iceskates.
There were lanes of traffic and no one could see the lines on the roads. We were in a snow emergency mode and that little fact seems to cause people to get out of their warm little houses and drive nowhere. What are they thinking and where are they going???
Cars were in ditches and tow trucks were everywhere,along with police cars with lights flashing. There were fender benders and accidents all around. Yes the snow was beautiful but I really only could think of living to get home and drive out in that white stuff again.
Sam loved it, it was our first big ride in the snow since I bought her in 2004. But since she needs new tires she is not on top of her game. You can't blame that on her, poor thing. She drove like I walk as if I have no treads on my shoes.
It was of little comfort to me to see that people still drive like idiots and dare devils. When a snow emergency plan is in effect, only necessary vehicles are supposed to be on the road. You would have thought it was Christmas Eve and everyone had last minute shopping to do.
Well now I sit here in mynice warm little house and I may never drive in a blizzard again. I am getting too old for this game. Instead of humming Christmas Caroles like Let it Snow, I was praying, Please God, just let me live another hour to get home!!!!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Time is Short
Oh how powerful those three words are, for all of us. I have watched the slow deterioration of my sister-in-law, my youngest brother Tim's wife, mother of three young children.
I went through all the grieving processes eventually, but I got hung up in the anger response. I was full of questions, why my brother, why such sadness on a rare happy marriage, why three children will not have their mother, why didn't God just fix it.???
And so I hung in this phase for months. The anger was misplaced and going nowhere. No I got to sit back and observe the tragedy about to hit my brother and his family.
The Ravens game was on, there was yelling, laughing, screaming , eating, talking and having fun. My brother wants life to go on as usual.
At first, I misunderstood this as some kind of denial. Now I perceive it as a man who loves his wife and children enough to keep life going on, even as we will lose our Lara.
Lara was full of laughter and always finding time to play with her children. She was and is a good mother to them. How will the children come to terms with the lose? I presume that their lives will go on, they will play sports, attend school, and go to church with their friends. This is what she would have wanted.
In their living room are amazing portraits taken at the beginning of her illness, around January last year. There is no sign of sickness, just a happy,loving family. You have to look very closely to see the pain in Lara's eyes. She knew that time was short.
Now I think back to day she called me to invite me to go with her on a retreat, but I declined, I was "too busy". I think back to the day that Tim and Lara invited my husband and me via a letter in my brother's handwriting to go on a marriage retreat, we were "too busy". Oh to go back in time and make the time, for time is too short. Find the time to love on your family even when you are "too busy" even when they don't deserve it.
She is home now with Hospice care and surrounded by love from friends and family. After a special church prayer vigil, she started to drink and eat. Her right side is still paralysed and her speech is garbled at times, but she has a way of making her wants known. Friends have dashed out of the house for cold cappachino, red velvet cake, or whatever she wanted. Even if it wasn't the right word, they got it just the same.
The dog, Junie, likes to lie next to her, trying to comfort as only dogs can do.
God has not taken Lara yet, but when he does we know she is going to be finally healed. She will talk and walk, she will be free.
If my brother can see this as a celebration, then so can I. We will celebrate her freedom from this earthy disease. We will celebrate her life and she will hear us tell jokes and stories about her.
Yes, time is short. Only a few of us are privileged to know how much time we have left on this earth. But God has blessed the Webster family. They know time is short and they are making the best of it.
Take time to thank God for each day that you wake up and feel good. For tomorrow may not be so good. I believe that only special people get to know that they have been given special time. A time to say goodbye for now.
A few days ago, I got to lay beside her in her bed. I was hesitate to touch her as my hands are so cold and she hates that, who doesn't?? I looked at her and said, "I know I haven't said it enough, or maybe not at all, but I do love you!" She squeezed my hand. I thank God for that moment. Some of us will not get that time.
Say what you want to say to others now. Ask forgiveness. Tell someone you love them. Forget the anger over the years that doesn't help anyone. Take time now, for time is short.
I went through all the grieving processes eventually, but I got hung up in the anger response. I was full of questions, why my brother, why such sadness on a rare happy marriage, why three children will not have their mother, why didn't God just fix it.???
And so I hung in this phase for months. The anger was misplaced and going nowhere. No I got to sit back and observe the tragedy about to hit my brother and his family.
The Ravens game was on, there was yelling, laughing, screaming , eating, talking and having fun. My brother wants life to go on as usual.
At first, I misunderstood this as some kind of denial. Now I perceive it as a man who loves his wife and children enough to keep life going on, even as we will lose our Lara.
Lara was full of laughter and always finding time to play with her children. She was and is a good mother to them. How will the children come to terms with the lose? I presume that their lives will go on, they will play sports, attend school, and go to church with their friends. This is what she would have wanted.
In their living room are amazing portraits taken at the beginning of her illness, around January last year. There is no sign of sickness, just a happy,loving family. You have to look very closely to see the pain in Lara's eyes. She knew that time was short.
Now I think back to day she called me to invite me to go with her on a retreat, but I declined, I was "too busy". I think back to the day that Tim and Lara invited my husband and me via a letter in my brother's handwriting to go on a marriage retreat, we were "too busy". Oh to go back in time and make the time, for time is too short. Find the time to love on your family even when you are "too busy" even when they don't deserve it.
She is home now with Hospice care and surrounded by love from friends and family. After a special church prayer vigil, she started to drink and eat. Her right side is still paralysed and her speech is garbled at times, but she has a way of making her wants known. Friends have dashed out of the house for cold cappachino, red velvet cake, or whatever she wanted. Even if it wasn't the right word, they got it just the same.
The dog, Junie, likes to lie next to her, trying to comfort as only dogs can do.
God has not taken Lara yet, but when he does we know she is going to be finally healed. She will talk and walk, she will be free.
If my brother can see this as a celebration, then so can I. We will celebrate her freedom from this earthy disease. We will celebrate her life and she will hear us tell jokes and stories about her.
Yes, time is short. Only a few of us are privileged to know how much time we have left on this earth. But God has blessed the Webster family. They know time is short and they are making the best of it.
Take time to thank God for each day that you wake up and feel good. For tomorrow may not be so good. I believe that only special people get to know that they have been given special time. A time to say goodbye for now.
A few days ago, I got to lay beside her in her bed. I was hesitate to touch her as my hands are so cold and she hates that, who doesn't?? I looked at her and said, "I know I haven't said it enough, or maybe not at all, but I do love you!" She squeezed my hand. I thank God for that moment. Some of us will not get that time.
Say what you want to say to others now. Ask forgiveness. Tell someone you love them. Forget the anger over the years that doesn't help anyone. Take time now, for time is short.
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