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.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
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.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Newsy Christmas Letter 09
Wow, this is the worst ever, no letter prior to Christmas. Have you ever heard of someone being that busy? And it gets worse, Chris never got her bathroooms clean. For the love of Heaven!
But Christmas came just the same with all the food preparing, the family time, over eating, church time and tons of gifts. Speaking of gifts, Chris is typing on her new Dell now. Sadly, it is smarter than Chris, so she have named her lap top, Geni girl, short for genious.
What are the chances of a lap top dying right in the early morning of Christmas? Good thing that Santa had a new one just raring to go under the tree for Chris. Her dear son had to get it going, but that's OK. Now Chris can email, facebook, and read the ignorant stuff on Twitter, where they speak a different language and know a secret code that is most annoying and totally disinteresting.
Rusty decided to sacrifice himself this year and at the last moment, purchased a ton of golf clubs and a bunch of other stuff, that UPS kept delivering before the big snow. Somehow the 2 ft of snow closed schools for 3 days and the mail did not come one day at all. Nurses spent days in the hospital and the patients didn't even notice. It's all about them you know?
Rusty, Chris and boys were invited to the other Evans home for Christmas brunch. So it was decided to pick up Mom Evans on the way, who needs a wheelchair, but everyone prefers to drag her around, which we did. It took both of her sons to get her into the car to go back to the nursing home, which is a story by itself.
Chris is still doing some insane things to cause herself bodily harm. Two days before Christmas, her hellion dog, Max was caught behind the railing of the deck in 2 ft of snow. Poor thing was freezing to death, and Chris felt the need to rescue him during a Raven's game. So she went out in a pair of bedroom slippers and was so close to getting the dog, but she forgot about the window well and fell in, landing flat on her back as she worried that she may have broken something. As she lay there, Rusty came yelling and cursing like a sailor, because Chris broke his plastic $ 4.99 cover and ruined his landscaping that apparently took him 3 hrs to do in the summer. Who covers up a window well anyway?
You would think that with a wife on Coumadin, he may have worried about a terminal problem or a 10 hr trip to the hospital. But no, he just stepped over Chris and got the dog, all the while cursing and nutty as a fruit cake. For the love of Heaven, where is the love????
The well incident keeps resurfacing and has to this moment and will continue to do so throughout the year 2010.
Chris spent all of Christmas Eve preparing a dinner for the day after Christmas. By 4pm that same day, it occured to everyone that there would be no dinner prepared, so we had pizza on Christmas Eve. Now that is a good idea. Two boxes and no mess.
Now lets get to the children. The oldest son,hemi, managed to get excellent grades at Stevenson University. He has a lot to be proud of, but has a little shadow hanging over his head as the MVA is considering taking his driving privileges away. Of course, this means he will need an escort to and from college and is still dependent on his parents.
The youngest son is still not employed since having 2 degrees qualifies him to do absolutely nothing, which warranted him come back home and live. Now he and his brother have reverted back to the toddler days and are trying their best not to have a fist fight.
Hemi, still has not found the perfect woman, but I am sure she is out there somewhere. We are praying for her sudden arrival and look everyday for her.
The youngest has a steady girlfriend and they seem to get along with one another just fine. Chris, however, has to butt out of their lives, since that's what mothers are supposed to do, be seem and not heard.
Now for the mothers. Chris's mother continues to drive to the Eastern Shore despite the fact her B/P was 180/80 and she was dizzy. If you are a little shakey on knowing if there is a God or not, just sit in the car with a 83 year old woman for a 3 1/2 drive. At the moment she is without a car, but Chris is sure she will want to go get that car any day now.
Rusty's Mom is doing well in the nursing home. She has managed to gain 10 lbs after her explosive episodes of bleeding that put her in ICU last month. Chris and Rusty were able to get her to her other sons house on Christmas day, but the two boys of hers, weighing in at 225 and 250lbs, had difficulty getting her to the car. Hello men, it's wheelchair time.
Chris babysat Mom Evans while everyone else enjoyed a great game of ping pong. Of course this included potty detail and diaper checks.
They all managed to enjoy Christmas, even though Hillary, our neice showed an hour of Christmas past, where she was the star. We did see some old footage of Mom and Dad Evans and that was just delightful to see. Dad and Mom Evans were so young and they looked so happy. Chris felt like crying.
Anyway, at least Rusty did not throw up numerous times due to a food injury, like last year. Everyone liked their Christmas presents, but hemi still managed to come up with 2 gifts to return (that he himself selected).
Next year, we think we are going with the wheel chair and Chug milkshakes, two diapers intact and a fork lift for the elderly.
The good news, Christmas is over!! No more cooking and no more turkey!! No more cleaning up and no more poundage, even though Chris' mother did give her a box of cherries, which she has to have since she doesn't eat, according to Nora.
We did get out our family picture card and sent it to what few friends we have. It took 10 tries to get Rusty to smile. But that's OK, there is always next year.
Happy New Year !!!
But Christmas came just the same with all the food preparing, the family time, over eating, church time and tons of gifts. Speaking of gifts, Chris is typing on her new Dell now. Sadly, it is smarter than Chris, so she have named her lap top, Geni girl, short for genious.
What are the chances of a lap top dying right in the early morning of Christmas? Good thing that Santa had a new one just raring to go under the tree for Chris. Her dear son had to get it going, but that's OK. Now Chris can email, facebook, and read the ignorant stuff on Twitter, where they speak a different language and know a secret code that is most annoying and totally disinteresting.
Rusty decided to sacrifice himself this year and at the last moment, purchased a ton of golf clubs and a bunch of other stuff, that UPS kept delivering before the big snow. Somehow the 2 ft of snow closed schools for 3 days and the mail did not come one day at all. Nurses spent days in the hospital and the patients didn't even notice. It's all about them you know?
Rusty, Chris and boys were invited to the other Evans home for Christmas brunch. So it was decided to pick up Mom Evans on the way, who needs a wheelchair, but everyone prefers to drag her around, which we did. It took both of her sons to get her into the car to go back to the nursing home, which is a story by itself.
Chris is still doing some insane things to cause herself bodily harm. Two days before Christmas, her hellion dog, Max was caught behind the railing of the deck in 2 ft of snow. Poor thing was freezing to death, and Chris felt the need to rescue him during a Raven's game. So she went out in a pair of bedroom slippers and was so close to getting the dog, but she forgot about the window well and fell in, landing flat on her back as she worried that she may have broken something. As she lay there, Rusty came yelling and cursing like a sailor, because Chris broke his plastic $ 4.99 cover and ruined his landscaping that apparently took him 3 hrs to do in the summer. Who covers up a window well anyway?
You would think that with a wife on Coumadin, he may have worried about a terminal problem or a 10 hr trip to the hospital. But no, he just stepped over Chris and got the dog, all the while cursing and nutty as a fruit cake. For the love of Heaven, where is the love????
The well incident keeps resurfacing and has to this moment and will continue to do so throughout the year 2010.
Chris spent all of Christmas Eve preparing a dinner for the day after Christmas. By 4pm that same day, it occured to everyone that there would be no dinner prepared, so we had pizza on Christmas Eve. Now that is a good idea. Two boxes and no mess.
Now lets get to the children. The oldest son,hemi, managed to get excellent grades at Stevenson University. He has a lot to be proud of, but has a little shadow hanging over his head as the MVA is considering taking his driving privileges away. Of course, this means he will need an escort to and from college and is still dependent on his parents.
The youngest son is still not employed since having 2 degrees qualifies him to do absolutely nothing, which warranted him come back home and live. Now he and his brother have reverted back to the toddler days and are trying their best not to have a fist fight.
Hemi, still has not found the perfect woman, but I am sure she is out there somewhere. We are praying for her sudden arrival and look everyday for her.
The youngest has a steady girlfriend and they seem to get along with one another just fine. Chris, however, has to butt out of their lives, since that's what mothers are supposed to do, be seem and not heard.
Now for the mothers. Chris's mother continues to drive to the Eastern Shore despite the fact her B/P was 180/80 and she was dizzy. If you are a little shakey on knowing if there is a God or not, just sit in the car with a 83 year old woman for a 3 1/2 drive. At the moment she is without a car, but Chris is sure she will want to go get that car any day now.
Rusty's Mom is doing well in the nursing home. She has managed to gain 10 lbs after her explosive episodes of bleeding that put her in ICU last month. Chris and Rusty were able to get her to her other sons house on Christmas day, but the two boys of hers, weighing in at 225 and 250lbs, had difficulty getting her to the car. Hello men, it's wheelchair time.
Chris babysat Mom Evans while everyone else enjoyed a great game of ping pong. Of course this included potty detail and diaper checks.
They all managed to enjoy Christmas, even though Hillary, our neice showed an hour of Christmas past, where she was the star. We did see some old footage of Mom and Dad Evans and that was just delightful to see. Dad and Mom Evans were so young and they looked so happy. Chris felt like crying.
Anyway, at least Rusty did not throw up numerous times due to a food injury, like last year. Everyone liked their Christmas presents, but hemi still managed to come up with 2 gifts to return (that he himself selected).
Next year, we think we are going with the wheel chair and Chug milkshakes, two diapers intact and a fork lift for the elderly.
The good news, Christmas is over!! No more cooking and no more turkey!! No more cleaning up and no more poundage, even though Chris' mother did give her a box of cherries, which she has to have since she doesn't eat, according to Nora.
We did get out our family picture card and sent it to what few friends we have. It took 10 tries to get Rusty to smile. But that's OK, there is always next year.
Happy New Year !!!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Sam and Me
Proudly, I am admitting to you that I have not had an affair since 1976. Oh sure, there have been temptations, but once you've had real love, your head doesn't turn so easily.
I recall the day as if it were yesterday, the day I saw her and I knew she was the one for me. She was sitting boldly in the dealer parking lot, a 1976 Pontiac Firebird. She was midnight blue with pale blue racing stripes and very large tires. The interior was a softer blue and the dash resembled the cockpit of a jet, even though I have never seen that part of a jet. She had a large V-8 engine with an 8 track tape player. Was she cool or what? She was an automatic and the gear shift was on a console between the two front bucket seats. When I got to test drive her, the new scent stiffened by cilia and I was head over heels in love.
She was a single's car, a tease at the traffic lights and she loved to go fast, which was her only fault. I admit that she sometimes got me into trouble, so she wasn't perfect, but as close as one could get.
Then sadly, my day to settle down came and we needed a family car. For some reason, infants and sports cars don't mesh and I had to chose between the two, since my biological clock was running out. So after 6 years of bliss, I sold her to my little brother, just to keep her in the family and I can not remember feeling such sadness before. But one has to move on, and I did.
We had several cars in the next 20 years, but only a few got my attention. One was an SUV, that I nicknamed the Tank. She was as daring as anything you could imagine. She loved the snow and ice as if she took pride in getting me home safely, as if it was her job and she was in charge. However, she wasn't perfect since she truly hated it when I applied the brakes. She just didn't want to stop. The accelerator, on the other hand, knew its role and I got my one and only speeding ticket in the Tank.
I wanted to explain to the officer how stubborn she was about obeying the speed limit, but he seemed rather disinterested as he wrote the $150 speeding ticket, after he congratulated me on have a good driving record. He should have said perfect, but I was busy explaining to him that my father who was sitting in the passenger seat, was a stroke victim and I had left his medication home, which was true. Dad, with his hat on sideways and who rarely completed a sensible sentence was sitting staring out the window. At first, I thought the officer was going to have mercy on me and then he looked at my Dad and tried to engage him in a meaningful conversation. And wouldn't you know it, Dad responds with perfect dialogue and no fool on earth would have suspected he ever had a stoke. The officer asked,"How are you sir?" Dad turns to look at him and says, "Fine, thank you !" For the love of heaven. As we drove away, I threatened to put him in a nursing home.
Our need for another vehicle came as our two boys grew and they, along with everyone else's kids needed a ride to all kinds of ballgames, so we invested in a minivan. I missed driving around in my Tank, because I could reach around and slap my kids while I drove, but in the minivan, I was just a mesh of empty threats- you know, "don't make me pull over" stuff.
The minivan was dependable and roomy with front wheel drive. After the feeling left that I was a bus driver, I started to like her some more. But she scared me. She was not the mellow vehicle she pretended to be, as a matter of fact, she had some serious mental health issues.
She was a serial killer, she stuck a whole family of deer with deer blood splattering on my windshield before the first car payment was made. My son was with me and has never forgiven me for killing Rudolph. Later she feathered a chicken, killed 3 birds, squashed 2 squirrels, a rabbit and tried to run over our neighbor's dog while the little girl was walking him. She knew no mercy and I thanked God she didn't try to kill a human, even though she did veer toward my neighbor as he was mowing his lawn right in broad daylight. How do you love a car like that? You don't, you just wait 10 years and trade it in. She didn't even deserve a nickname.
Then it happened, I feel in love. It all came about when we had to put our Tank down. She was totaled on a slippery rainy night with a teenager driving. Our son blamed the weather, but the officer at the scene came up with 6 other reasons. I went to visit her in the junk yard to pay my last respects. It broke my heart to see her so broken. I cried.
I missed the Tank so much that my husband decided to invest in another SUV. I would only settle for red. I didn't care about anything else, no frills, just red.
As soon as we arrived on the dealor lot, I saw her, a brand spanking new , red Jeep liberty 4x4. She was parked in the front to catch my attention. The sun was shining on her fresh wax job, she was immaculate. She had huge tires and a big one on the back. Her windows were tinted. She was mighty fine.
The dealer passed me the keys and asked me if I wanted to test drive her-just give me those keys mister. I hopped in and the new car smell hit me again and I was dizzy in love. I couldn't think and I knew he must have been wondering why I didn't just turn the ignition. I had no answer. I just had to sit in the driver's seat and look at the little dials and play with the clicker thing, which impressed me more than the car itself.
There were 4 buttons on the clicker thing and I loved all of them, but my special one was the panic button, it set my heart to racing.
Finally I turned the ignition on and told the dealer that I wanted to be alone. He gave me a weird look as if I was going to steal the car, but he jumped out and I bravely took her for a little spin around the parking lot. My armpits were sweating as if I was afraid one of the parked cars was going to crash into me.
After the business transaction, I started the nervous ride home. As I traveled a few yards, she locked me in. It was the sweetest sound ever. I was infatuated.
I parked her in the garage and refused to get out of her. I read the manual, checked the radio, and sniffed the newness for hours. I finally got out and with my clicker, I locked her. She made a noise like a girly fart. It was then, that I named her Sam, short for Samantha.
Soon the name caught on and eveyone called her Sam. She and I waited for the first sign of snow which took its pea picking time coming and finally brought 2 inches of snow. Sam and I were ecstatic and we headed for the grocery store for absolutely nothing. Cars were in ditches and one was in a man's hedges. We just breezed past as if there was no snow at all. I could hear her tires gripping the road like gum on the bottom of a shoe. We did the speed limit with no fear, We were daring.
At last, I had become one of those annoying drivers that blows past you on the road when it is too dangerous to be out of the house. At last, I was cool again !!
I recall the day as if it were yesterday, the day I saw her and I knew she was the one for me. She was sitting boldly in the dealer parking lot, a 1976 Pontiac Firebird. She was midnight blue with pale blue racing stripes and very large tires. The interior was a softer blue and the dash resembled the cockpit of a jet, even though I have never seen that part of a jet. She had a large V-8 engine with an 8 track tape player. Was she cool or what? She was an automatic and the gear shift was on a console between the two front bucket seats. When I got to test drive her, the new scent stiffened by cilia and I was head over heels in love.
She was a single's car, a tease at the traffic lights and she loved to go fast, which was her only fault. I admit that she sometimes got me into trouble, so she wasn't perfect, but as close as one could get.
Then sadly, my day to settle down came and we needed a family car. For some reason, infants and sports cars don't mesh and I had to chose between the two, since my biological clock was running out. So after 6 years of bliss, I sold her to my little brother, just to keep her in the family and I can not remember feeling such sadness before. But one has to move on, and I did.
We had several cars in the next 20 years, but only a few got my attention. One was an SUV, that I nicknamed the Tank. She was as daring as anything you could imagine. She loved the snow and ice as if she took pride in getting me home safely, as if it was her job and she was in charge. However, she wasn't perfect since she truly hated it when I applied the brakes. She just didn't want to stop. The accelerator, on the other hand, knew its role and I got my one and only speeding ticket in the Tank.
I wanted to explain to the officer how stubborn she was about obeying the speed limit, but he seemed rather disinterested as he wrote the $150 speeding ticket, after he congratulated me on have a good driving record. He should have said perfect, but I was busy explaining to him that my father who was sitting in the passenger seat, was a stroke victim and I had left his medication home, which was true. Dad, with his hat on sideways and who rarely completed a sensible sentence was sitting staring out the window. At first, I thought the officer was going to have mercy on me and then he looked at my Dad and tried to engage him in a meaningful conversation. And wouldn't you know it, Dad responds with perfect dialogue and no fool on earth would have suspected he ever had a stoke. The officer asked,"How are you sir?" Dad turns to look at him and says, "Fine, thank you !" For the love of heaven. As we drove away, I threatened to put him in a nursing home.
Our need for another vehicle came as our two boys grew and they, along with everyone else's kids needed a ride to all kinds of ballgames, so we invested in a minivan. I missed driving around in my Tank, because I could reach around and slap my kids while I drove, but in the minivan, I was just a mesh of empty threats- you know, "don't make me pull over" stuff.
The minivan was dependable and roomy with front wheel drive. After the feeling left that I was a bus driver, I started to like her some more. But she scared me. She was not the mellow vehicle she pretended to be, as a matter of fact, she had some serious mental health issues.
She was a serial killer, she stuck a whole family of deer with deer blood splattering on my windshield before the first car payment was made. My son was with me and has never forgiven me for killing Rudolph. Later she feathered a chicken, killed 3 birds, squashed 2 squirrels, a rabbit and tried to run over our neighbor's dog while the little girl was walking him. She knew no mercy and I thanked God she didn't try to kill a human, even though she did veer toward my neighbor as he was mowing his lawn right in broad daylight. How do you love a car like that? You don't, you just wait 10 years and trade it in. She didn't even deserve a nickname.
Then it happened, I feel in love. It all came about when we had to put our Tank down. She was totaled on a slippery rainy night with a teenager driving. Our son blamed the weather, but the officer at the scene came up with 6 other reasons. I went to visit her in the junk yard to pay my last respects. It broke my heart to see her so broken. I cried.
I missed the Tank so much that my husband decided to invest in another SUV. I would only settle for red. I didn't care about anything else, no frills, just red.
As soon as we arrived on the dealor lot, I saw her, a brand spanking new , red Jeep liberty 4x4. She was parked in the front to catch my attention. The sun was shining on her fresh wax job, she was immaculate. She had huge tires and a big one on the back. Her windows were tinted. She was mighty fine.
The dealer passed me the keys and asked me if I wanted to test drive her-just give me those keys mister. I hopped in and the new car smell hit me again and I was dizzy in love. I couldn't think and I knew he must have been wondering why I didn't just turn the ignition. I had no answer. I just had to sit in the driver's seat and look at the little dials and play with the clicker thing, which impressed me more than the car itself.
There were 4 buttons on the clicker thing and I loved all of them, but my special one was the panic button, it set my heart to racing.
Finally I turned the ignition on and told the dealer that I wanted to be alone. He gave me a weird look as if I was going to steal the car, but he jumped out and I bravely took her for a little spin around the parking lot. My armpits were sweating as if I was afraid one of the parked cars was going to crash into me.
After the business transaction, I started the nervous ride home. As I traveled a few yards, she locked me in. It was the sweetest sound ever. I was infatuated.
I parked her in the garage and refused to get out of her. I read the manual, checked the radio, and sniffed the newness for hours. I finally got out and with my clicker, I locked her. She made a noise like a girly fart. It was then, that I named her Sam, short for Samantha.
Soon the name caught on and eveyone called her Sam. She and I waited for the first sign of snow which took its pea picking time coming and finally brought 2 inches of snow. Sam and I were ecstatic and we headed for the grocery store for absolutely nothing. Cars were in ditches and one was in a man's hedges. We just breezed past as if there was no snow at all. I could hear her tires gripping the road like gum on the bottom of a shoe. We did the speed limit with no fear, We were daring.
At last, I had become one of those annoying drivers that blows past you on the road when it is too dangerous to be out of the house. At last, I was cool again !!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The Gift on Christmas Day
Christmas Eve had arrived and brought with it, the clouds of worry about my Dad's deteriorating condition. He had developed a dangerous heart rhythm and was on a telemetry unit in a hospital one hour away.
He had always been a strong man, but several strokes had attacked his weakening body and mind. He had become a fragile 75 yr old man with little dignity. Yet, I was not ready to say good-bye to him. I couldn't let him go. Not yet and especially not today.
My heart was heavy and my temples were throbbing from the constant effort to conceal the tears that were always threatening to spill. Christmas was a special time, especially for small children and my two sons were no exception. I knew the strain of PopPop being so sick, but they were too young to understand. I had to keep the holiday as usual. My Dad would have wanted it that way. Christmas would go on, even without him.
Unwilling to face the restless night, that I knew awaited me, I forced myself to try to unwind. I found myself staring blankly at the shimmering, soft, glow from the lights of the Christmas tree. But something was missing. There was no gift for Dad under the tree. It was a sad reminder that maybe he wouldn't be in need of a gift this year.
Memories of Christmas past began to flood my mind which seemed to give me some settling peace. Traditions were carried out year after year by my Dad, who believed in a force not seen and who showed no interest in material things. Yet he had worked six days a week to make sure his family had the joy and magic of Christmas.
As a small child, Christmas Eve night was a time of excitement and anticipation. There was little money to spare, yet my brothers and I were never disappointed on Christmas morning.
We were taught as young children to treat our toys as precious gems, since the toys were indeed rare, but Santa never forgot us year after year.
I vividly recall the Christmas of 1958, when Santa left a Shirley Temple doll under the tree for me. I still have her. Her blue silk dress has never left her body and her head of curls still surround her brilliant blue eyes. She is listed today as less than mint, since she is missing a shoe, but to me, she is priceless. This doll is a reminder of Christmas past, when money didn't really matter and when families had time for each other.
With each passing Christmas, traditions in our home never varied. Dad waited until Christmas Eve night to bring in the spectacular cedar tree. With just a few lights, several glass ornaments,and a zillion strings of icicles, our whole family got together and managed to turn the cedar tree into a brilliant Christmas tree. The tree was not complete without the icicles. The icicles and the lights hid all the imperfections. It was a night of all nights, the best night of the year, a night of magic. The sweet memories made me smile.
And today, another Christmas Eve, I was no longer a child and all I could think about was Christmas past. I thought of the candlelight service at St. Paul's church in Wenona, where I was raised. This service was a reminder to everyone that Jesus was the reason for the season. I could almost smell the wax candles burning as we all joined in singing Silent Night.
My brothers and I are all married now, with families and have moved away from Wenona. But the traditions live on. Being physically apart on this special night each year, we are still connected in spirit, in different cities and in different churches for the Candlelight services. Our father's prayer was that the circle not be broken.
We remind our children each year, that Christmas is about love, not wrapped gifts under a trimmed tree. It's about family, not toys. It's about a loving God who sent the special gift of his son, who is our only source of strength. We tell our children about their grandfather who was not ashamed of his God and that he prayed on his knees with his children and even cried at times. His gift to his children and grandchildren was his strong belief in a God we could not see and a place we could only imagine.
I was lost in my thoughts, listening to the crackling of wood in the fireplace and I drifted into a restful sleep that night. As morning dawned, I awoke with a new peace, since the hospital did not call. No news was good news.
My Dad was fighting a good fight and I had been selfishly praying that he would hang on, just one more Christmas and he had. He was alone in a hospital bed with strangers, oblivious to the holiday. He had no gift and no tree. He could not walk and he could not see. What difference did Christmas make to him? It was just another day to a man who was prisoner in his own mind.
On Christmas morning, I watched my two boys rip open their gifts in their usual high speed fashion, but my mind kept drifting back to Dad, who had no gifts. He had grown up in a poor family with five other siblings. He became a man who had no use for material things. He learned to be content with what he had.
And yet, I was still sad that he had no gifts under the tree, just a little gift, maybe something that he could hold on his lap. But there was no gift at all. I found myself fretting that he was all alone and prayed that someone would feed him breakfast that morning. In his present state, food meant more to him than anything else, more than gifts, more than decorating a Christmas tree.
For Dad, this day was no different from Christmas past when he learned to be thankful that there was food on the table.
I didn't have a gift for my Dad that day, no wrapped present, but I suddenly knew that Christmas morning what I could give him. I made him a promise to never again pray selfishly for him to hang on for me. I gave him permission to go to his final resting place when he was ready. That same place he taught his children about, where he could go and wait for his family.
Dad is celebrating with Jesus today. I believe his eyes are clear and he can see us gathering together in a little huddle surrounding the Christmas tree. I believe he is singing with the angels and his words are no longer garbled. I believe his legs are strong and that he is dancing around a beautiful tree as he helps decorate it with icicles. I believe he can feel the love that encircles each family. I believe he knows about my gift to him years ago. My promise to let him go!!!
He had always been a strong man, but several strokes had attacked his weakening body and mind. He had become a fragile 75 yr old man with little dignity. Yet, I was not ready to say good-bye to him. I couldn't let him go. Not yet and especially not today.
My heart was heavy and my temples were throbbing from the constant effort to conceal the tears that were always threatening to spill. Christmas was a special time, especially for small children and my two sons were no exception. I knew the strain of PopPop being so sick, but they were too young to understand. I had to keep the holiday as usual. My Dad would have wanted it that way. Christmas would go on, even without him.
Unwilling to face the restless night, that I knew awaited me, I forced myself to try to unwind. I found myself staring blankly at the shimmering, soft, glow from the lights of the Christmas tree. But something was missing. There was no gift for Dad under the tree. It was a sad reminder that maybe he wouldn't be in need of a gift this year.
Memories of Christmas past began to flood my mind which seemed to give me some settling peace. Traditions were carried out year after year by my Dad, who believed in a force not seen and who showed no interest in material things. Yet he had worked six days a week to make sure his family had the joy and magic of Christmas.
As a small child, Christmas Eve night was a time of excitement and anticipation. There was little money to spare, yet my brothers and I were never disappointed on Christmas morning.
We were taught as young children to treat our toys as precious gems, since the toys were indeed rare, but Santa never forgot us year after year.
I vividly recall the Christmas of 1958, when Santa left a Shirley Temple doll under the tree for me. I still have her. Her blue silk dress has never left her body and her head of curls still surround her brilliant blue eyes. She is listed today as less than mint, since she is missing a shoe, but to me, she is priceless. This doll is a reminder of Christmas past, when money didn't really matter and when families had time for each other.
With each passing Christmas, traditions in our home never varied. Dad waited until Christmas Eve night to bring in the spectacular cedar tree. With just a few lights, several glass ornaments,and a zillion strings of icicles, our whole family got together and managed to turn the cedar tree into a brilliant Christmas tree. The tree was not complete without the icicles. The icicles and the lights hid all the imperfections. It was a night of all nights, the best night of the year, a night of magic. The sweet memories made me smile.
And today, another Christmas Eve, I was no longer a child and all I could think about was Christmas past. I thought of the candlelight service at St. Paul's church in Wenona, where I was raised. This service was a reminder to everyone that Jesus was the reason for the season. I could almost smell the wax candles burning as we all joined in singing Silent Night.
My brothers and I are all married now, with families and have moved away from Wenona. But the traditions live on. Being physically apart on this special night each year, we are still connected in spirit, in different cities and in different churches for the Candlelight services. Our father's prayer was that the circle not be broken.
We remind our children each year, that Christmas is about love, not wrapped gifts under a trimmed tree. It's about family, not toys. It's about a loving God who sent the special gift of his son, who is our only source of strength. We tell our children about their grandfather who was not ashamed of his God and that he prayed on his knees with his children and even cried at times. His gift to his children and grandchildren was his strong belief in a God we could not see and a place we could only imagine.
I was lost in my thoughts, listening to the crackling of wood in the fireplace and I drifted into a restful sleep that night. As morning dawned, I awoke with a new peace, since the hospital did not call. No news was good news.
My Dad was fighting a good fight and I had been selfishly praying that he would hang on, just one more Christmas and he had. He was alone in a hospital bed with strangers, oblivious to the holiday. He had no gift and no tree. He could not walk and he could not see. What difference did Christmas make to him? It was just another day to a man who was prisoner in his own mind.
On Christmas morning, I watched my two boys rip open their gifts in their usual high speed fashion, but my mind kept drifting back to Dad, who had no gifts. He had grown up in a poor family with five other siblings. He became a man who had no use for material things. He learned to be content with what he had.
And yet, I was still sad that he had no gifts under the tree, just a little gift, maybe something that he could hold on his lap. But there was no gift at all. I found myself fretting that he was all alone and prayed that someone would feed him breakfast that morning. In his present state, food meant more to him than anything else, more than gifts, more than decorating a Christmas tree.
For Dad, this day was no different from Christmas past when he learned to be thankful that there was food on the table.
I didn't have a gift for my Dad that day, no wrapped present, but I suddenly knew that Christmas morning what I could give him. I made him a promise to never again pray selfishly for him to hang on for me. I gave him permission to go to his final resting place when he was ready. That same place he taught his children about, where he could go and wait for his family.
Dad is celebrating with Jesus today. I believe his eyes are clear and he can see us gathering together in a little huddle surrounding the Christmas tree. I believe he is singing with the angels and his words are no longer garbled. I believe his legs are strong and that he is dancing around a beautiful tree as he helps decorate it with icicles. I believe he can feel the love that encircles each family. I believe he knows about my gift to him years ago. My promise to let him go!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
