Waymaker

 It has been over a year since I have written on my blog.  Perhaps it is because two of my daughters gifted me with a wonderful surprise for Christmas 2021 of a subscription to "Storyworth".  Hubby and I enjoyed writing weekly as questions about our lives appeared in our inboxes.  After one year of writing our thoughts and experiences, we have lovely keepsake books to pass along to the generations that come after us.  My writing efforts landed in my book last year.

Today I am back writing in Jories Journey.  I am surrounded in light and compelled to send out joy into the world today and declare the work of the Lord in my life.

There is a worship song entitled Way Maker, which reminds us of some of the attributes of God.  I've recently sung this song, listened to this song, felt this song, prayed this song, and lived this song, and rejoice today in the knowledge that God is working even when I don't see that He is working or feel that He is working.  I rest in that joy this February day.

Way Maker

Miracle Worker

Promise Keeper

Light in the Darkness

My God

That is who you are

Touching every heart

Healing every heart

Turning lives around

Mending every heart

Change

Here we are.  

Another year has almost passed.  

We have lived with a pandemic for nearly two years.

It is time to evaluate.

For me, the one constant is change.

Well yes, you say, we have all had to make many changes, especially related to the pandemic and fighting it.  Who could have imagined two years ago that such a divide could occur on thoughts and practices?  Who knew that democracy would be on the line?  Who knew how much science would be questioned?  Who knew there would be such economic upheaval?  Topics such as these certainly reflect change, however, debating, discussing, or lingering over those questions is not on my agenda today.  The change in my life is of a much more personal type.

Did I imagine as 2020 began that within months an entire family that I love could just be gone from my life?  The depth of loss is astounding.  There are days that this change is simply ignored or even denied as tasks and diversions assist me in...just not going there.  And there are days that I can hardly catch a breath when I think of the loss.  As these moments come and go, both my mind and emotions, along with memories, take over and drag me along for a bit.  Questions come and go in that place, but ultimately peace and acceptance pull me back to the everyday life I live.  

Tears flow easily these past several months.  My eight-year-old granddaughter knows when to look at my face to see if they are coming.  She knows however, that most of the time, the tears are coming because I am happy to be together and simply being very sentimental.  For, you see, the changes that have come my way have left me very aware of how precious relationships are, and how much I cherish the ones that are still intact. 

I do not take any person for granted any more.

When there is a moment of joy, I cherish it.  

When laughter comes, I literally feel it.  

As sadness creeps in, I feel it too, and let it teach me.  

As places in my heart are emptied, I learn that life can go on.

As my lifelong faith is challenged, I lean on the peace that passes understanding.

In the midst of change, I cling to the one who is unchangeable.  And quite simply that is the essence of how I continue on as not only a functional seventy-four year old lady, but as a loving, full-of-life person who literally finds joy in bringing joy, and at the same time manages to climb out of the dark places that can sideline me at times.  My relationship with Christ, in spite of unimaginable circumstances, or physical and emotional pain, keeps me going.  I also bask in the light of the relationships which are still intact, and hopefully act in a way that people can feel that essence of love and appreciation.  I move forward surrounded by people and faith that uplift me.

It is the holiday season; a time where feelings run deep.  After so many holidays, the truth my mother taught me when I was a young woman has become apparent.  The truth that, as many celebrate these winter holidays many others find it difficult to maneuver through the festivities.  Memories and emotions and reality all have to be dealt with as we celebrate traditions, faith and family.  For me there is often happiness and memories waiting to be made as I anticipate events.  Tomorrow I look forward to baking Christmas cookies with some of my grandchildren.  I can already see the mess and hear their giggles!  At the very same time I yearn for a relationship with some of my other grandchildren.  I mourn not seeing their smiles or hearing their laughter.  These feelings of joy and loss are part of this time of change in which I personally live.  Somewhere in me lives hope that change can come again and relationships can be renewed and restored.  And so the spirit of Christmas does abound in my heart and faith in miracles certainly exists!  

My writing has always been cathartic.  Also, I find joy in thinking that as my readers wander through my ramblings, they are inspired to find some bit of truth that is relatable.  As you ponder your life, and look ahead to the holidays and the upcoming year, I hope and pray that you find peace and contentment that helps you move forward each day in such a way that you can adapt to change and find acceptance in what comes.  Also, please, please cherish each person in your life!  

To quote the melody wafting through my head at the moment...."Love and joy come to you, and to you glad Christmas too.  And God bless you and send you a happy new year.  And God send you a happy new year!

Yes, I'm tearing up as I finish writing...

Hope

Pandemic Baby.  Oh that term!

So much worry.  The world askew.

Tiniest girl so sweet and new

 Bringer of hope as this grandma will learn.

 

This precious girl has just turned one!  What a year it has been for her, for me, for our family and for the world!

We waited with such joy as the year 2020 began.  Our tenth grandchild was expected to arrive in early May.  We were ecstatic with plans for this new little girl to join the family.  I was invited to be in the birthing room for her birth and we were blissfully planning a sprinkle to celebrate with friends and family.  Prior to the big day, Hubby and I were planning a cruise to Mexico and I was thankfully recovering from a rather unexpected and frightening medical situation.

By the end of January, we began hearing news of a novel virus in China.  Looking back I believe many of us thought that what was happening on the other side of the world would not, could not, impact our daily lives.  Within weeks however, watching information first on international news, then national, then statewide and finally local news, we learned that life was changing for everyone.  When our governor issued a stay-at-home order in mid-March, we complied, but were truly in disbelief at how quickly life was changing.

Questions abounded, with many of them centered on the well-being of my family living in three countries, and especially about my pregnant daughter living in the same town as me.  Where would she give birth?  Would the hospitals be safe?  Would she be alone?  Would it be safe even to go to prenatal visits?  So many questions swirled in my head about my baby and her baby, and all of my children and grandchildren.  Day by day, Hubby and I "sheltered in place" and prayed that all would be well and that everyone of us would survive this awful unknown.  

Praise be to God, little Callie was born safe and sound in a birthing center with her daddy in attendance.  Mommy, Daddy and baby came home within hours of birth.  The weeks of wondering and waiting and decision making had passed ever so slowly, but a beautiful, healthy child arrived into the family on Mother's Day weekend.  The photo above shows when we first met our littlest girl.  We could only see her through the door of her home.  My dreams of being at her birth were not meant to be.  Our desire to hold her in our arms did not come to pass for several weeks.  The months to come would not be spent together as hoped.  Our joy was full, but also bittersweet.

Her arrival into our local family began nearly a year-long effort to be together but be distanced for everyone's safety.  As we listened to the science, holidays were spent outside or in the garage with everyone wearing masks.  Baby's first Christmas was done via ZOOM while this Grandma and Grandpa sat alone in our living room.  Our pandemic efforts to be together were orchestrated with ingenuity by our oldest daughter, and her efforts towards family unity will always be appreciated!  

Little Callie grew!  Much to our surprise we learned that we could be delighted in sharing many milestones via cell phones.  At a certain point our baby girl recognized Grandpa and Grandma on that tiny screen her mommy held.  She learned our voices and we learned her little ways.  We learned to be satisfied with the simple joys of watching baby's first year in a different way.

It was with extreme joy in late January of this year that we received our vaccines. As the weeks passed, all of the adults in our family followed suit.  A year had passed since Covid had impacted our world so it was with tremendous joy that we resumed spending time together and sharing hugs and meals.  We all slowly stepped from fear and isolation into our new post-pandemic world.

I think of all the babies who were born during the pandemic, and indeed are still being born where the pandemic is yet to be under control.  Yes, they will go down in history being called pandemic babies, but perhaps more importantly they should be called babies of hope.  Our darling Callie Marie, and all the millions like her are a reminder that life goes on...even in dark times filled with struggle, changes and fear.  May these children be a blessing to us all as we watch them grow and learn in spite of adversity.  May they help us look towards the future and have hope and plan.  

May we also be a blessing to them as we impart insights we have learned through our growth during the pandemic.  As we realize how much was lost and how much we took for granted, perhaps we can have an enlightened point of view to share with our children and grandchildren.  Hopefully we can give these children a better world in which to grow.  Maybe as they teach us, we can teach them about perseverance, tolerance, acceptance and understanding.

Callie, no doubt, will be told many stories as she grows up of how we managed this year.  She will have many photos to remind her of how greatly loved and wanted she was.  She will know that love flowed in this family in spite of the unimaginable.  She will know that she was secure in her house and in her family of four even though isolation limited her experiences.  And I will make sure that she knows how her coming, at this time, for this Grandma, made all the difference in how I made it through the year.  Her darling little self helped me have purpose when things seemed quite hopeless.

Callie.  The name means beautiful.  And that's what you will always be to me.

Grandma's Baby. Oh yes, that term!

Lovely and sweet.  The world renewed.

Darling curls and personality too

Bringer of hope as this grandma learned!

Grandma

 

Ethel Mildred Papik was married to Albert August Witter on October 5th, 1921.  I, their second grandchild, was born on their twenty-sixth wedding anniversary.  This coincidence of dates always made me feel special.  But then again, my Grandma Witter always made me feel special.   

She lived to see me grow to adulthood, marry and become a mother.  She held and loved my first three children before she passed away on Christmas Day 1980.  She absolutely loved Christmas and it seems right that she arrived in heaven on that day.

Anyone who knew my mother, Eileen, my Uncle Joe or my Aunt Jolene know that even though economic times were difficult early in their marriage, Millie and Albert raised three strong people!  Devout Christians, and dynamic, loving family people, the Witter's and their children left an impact on the world as well as in my heart and the hearts of many.

My Grandpa Witter passed away on New Year's Day 1959 when I was eleven years old.  He was deeply loved and admired and in the prime of his career working for the Illinois Central Railroad.  He had just left our home in Nebraska days earlier to return to work when he suffered a massive heart attack in Gibson City, Illinois.  Grandma was staying with us a few extra days and was in fact helping my mother pack away the Christmas tree decorations when the phone call came in.  I knew Grandma loved Grandpa immensely and the sounds she made when she heard of his passing told me just how much.  There are some things one never forgets!  I am reminded of their great love each year when I pack away the holiday decorations.

Now, as a grandmother myself, I can say that all of the thoughts of my grandparents are happy ones.  I loved them perfectly, even though they were not perfect.  I can only pray that my grandchildren will remember me the same way.

My husband and I coincidentally settled in the same community as my widowed grandmother when as a young married couple we drove to visit her and found model homes on display.  On a cold, snowy February day we toured a house built on speculation in a new subdivision and made an offer that day.  We loved living close to Grandma, as well as near Aunt Jolene and her family, as we made our first house into a home. 

Grandma Witter was a great listener.  In fact I believe that is the quality I loved most about her, even though she was talented in many other ways as well.  When I was pregnant with my first child I attended LaMaze classes and shared the information with my grandma.  She listened carefully as I was so excited to tell her every detail about managing labor!  After my son was born, following a lengthy labor and unmedicated birth, I told Grandma all about the experience.  I will never forget when she said to me then, "I wanted to tell you it would hurt honey".  She always listened carefully and her advice, if given, was supportive and expressed in love.  As she saw me with my three babies over the following four years, she listened to all of my ideas on breastfeeding and child rearing.  As we talked together, she would tell me what she knew also.  Conversations always flowed easily because I had learned from an early age from her about respect, love and trust.

In earlier years when I was a child, growing up in Nebraska, I spent weeks during the summer in Kankakee, Illinois visiting my grandparents.  Sometimes my grandparents took me to their home on a long road trip.  This was prior to the Interstate Highway system and I remember how loving and respectful they always were with each other.  Other times, my Grandma would take me to or from her house on the train.  Because she had employee rail passes we would have our own private sleeping compartment.  This, of course, was a great adventure and such a special time together.

I loved these summers with my grandparents!  My Grandma always took my downtown to buy me a new pair of shoes.  I would visit the hotel restaurant, the Alden's beauty salon and the Merle Norman makeup studio with her.  Of course we would stop at the train depot and visit Grandpa at work also.  Every Sunday the three of us drove to St. Paul's Lutheran Church near the depot and attended worship service together.  Then we would go to a nearby drugstore, and while my grandparents had coffee and chatted with friends, I could explore the store.

My Grandma shared many of her talents with me.  She taught me to sew, both by hand embroidery and on her treadle Singer sewing machine.  I learned to make samplers to hang on the wall and give as gifts as well as learned garment construction.  She taught so easily and gently as she made learning fun.  My Grandma Witter was an amazing cook and baker!  She taught me many tips in the kitchen.  We would oftentimes eat in the living room on tv trays, however each tray was nicely presented and filled with a balanced homemade meal.  I still use the handwritten recipe book she gave me as a wedding gift.  

After Grandpa passed away my visits remained a very special part of my summers.  Grandma taught me how to keep a house neat and do a job well.  She even taught me a little poem to that effect. Her bed was made each morning and the dirty dishes never lingered long in the sink.  At one point later in her life she had fallen and broken her hip. After her recovery she required one shoe made a bit taller to accommodate her uneven gait.  I don't ever remember hearing her complain.  Acceptance came easily to her as she trusted God to help her through life.  My Grandma Witter was beautiful inside and out.  She always had her hair done nicely, her "face on" and wore a dress, hose and shoes every day.  The days the "Avon Lady" visited were special. Grandma and I played many games and loved our Canasta challenges.  She had a small bookshelf at the end of her couch and I enjoyed reading the Reader's Digest Condensed stories.  I watched the first Happy Days episode with her.  Grandma always stayed up on the current news of the day and I learned to respect the importance of journalism.  I became good friends with the girls my age who lived on either side of Grandma's house.  We played together often and were allowed to visit the brand new shopping mall together several streets away.  After it rained we could splash barefoot in the water that ran down the street near the curb.  At the end of each day I would sleep next to Grandma and as we said goodnight we always prayed The Lord's Prayer together. 

While a teenager, after my family moved to Illinois, I saw my Grandma more frequently.  I so enjoyed seeing her with my younger cousins.  She taught me how to love young children and that as a grandparent it was okay to spoil them just a bit.  Her youngest grandchild, Michael, could ask Grandma to make pancakes any time of day and she would happily do it for him. Also during these years the three families would gather together at Grandma's house for holidays.  I so enjoyed these gatherings and time with my aunts and uncles and older cousins too.  Christmas was the most special occasion and Grandma insisted on making the entire meal herself.  In her latter years she made sequined ornaments for each family member as well.  We exchanged gifts, took pictures, ate a grand meal and played games.  Christmas meant family time at Grandma's and everyone looked forward to it!

Now that I am a 73 year old grandmother I think of Grandma Witter at specific times.  When I am sewing on black fabric I am reminded of how she would tell me how difficult this task was.  At the time I couldn't understand, but now my old eyes do indeed understand.  When she would get in the car to drive I would wait patiently for her to remove her glasses and put on her prescription sunglasses.  Now I do the same thing when I get in the car.  There was a specific side street path she would take to avoid turning left on Kennedy Drive without a stoplight.  I do the same thing.  I too have a grandson named Michael.  I don't believe I have made pancakes for him other than at breakfast time, however, he, along with his nine cousins, know that Grandma would do just about anything for any one of them.  And when it is Christmastime, gathering together with family seems like the perfect, most comforting, loving, busy culmination of the year.  

Other than these specific times when I remember Grandma Witter, I do believe she is also softy woven into the fabric of who I am.  Unwavering faith and trust in God; expressive and unconditional love for every family member; understanding current events and the world; having moral values, patience, kindness and respect; spending time with and valuing young children: fostering independence and wise decision making as children grow; enjoying travel; keeping a clean house; overcoming adversity and loss; perseverance and logic; love and respect for people outside of family;  enjoyment of books and games; understanding that listening carefully is the most important aspect of conversation; creativity and hospitality; limiting unsolicited advice giving; respecting traditions and family gatherings: are all gifts my Grandma Witter gave to me by living her simple, ordinary, extraordinary life.

Grandma was born one hundred and twenty years ago and has now been gone for forty years.  In five days her daughter, my mother, has been gone for one year.  Here I am to carry on.  Here I am to love and care for my husband, my children, my grandchildren, my friends and yes, my fellowman, known and unknown.  God gave me two amazing women to show me the way.  I am forever grateful for His many gifts, and in His strength I carry on the great traditions and ideals set before me.  

Grandma Witter your love lives in me and I will pass it along to those who come after me.

Unknown

Walking along a sunlit forest path, you have no idea when a tree branch strewn across the path might knock you off your feet causing a painful sprain to your ankle or a scrape to your knee, or when storm clouds might suddenly fill the sky and burst forth with an unknown downpour drenching you.  Or even worse yet, one really doesn't know if a cliff awaits off to one side of the path and as your shoe hits loose rocks, you may completely lose your footing and tumble head over heals down a mountainside and find yourself trapped with a major injury or even worse.  On the other hand, one's journey through the forest may be refreshing to the body and soul, with beautiful vistas to be seen and contemplated. Or you might find a contentment of fulfilling exercise goals and spending quality time with someone special walking alongside you.  Perhaps, nature at it's best intrigues you and taking in plant and animal life gives you satisfaction.  Although you think you know where you are heading and what to expect, no one actually knows for certain where the path will lead or what obstacles might arise.  Oftentimes we cannot control the unknowns we come across.  Usually though we can control our response and learn from the adventure wherever it takes us.  We can also find joy where we least expect to find it.

One year ago this week I was at the airport waiting to embark on an amazing adventure.  I was taking an unaccompanied "path" to Japan, followed by a trip to Thailand and Vietnam.  Following this trip to the other side of the world I was looking forward to returning home and celebrating the Fall and Winter holidays, a family Christmas, and a happy 2020.  My family and myself were all in good health and two new grandchildren were on the way to joining our family.  Hubby and I were enjoying our retirement as well as making plans for a cruise vacation and future travel together.  You could say I was literally on top of the world as I flew over Alaska and Russia on my way to Japan.  My path looked straight and clear.

Overjoyed to be with my daughter and her family in Japan, we reconnected as we awaited the birth of her fifth child and my ninth grandchild.  With the birth of a beautiful healthy baby in early October we were overjoyed.  Two days later our joy was dampened, for while celebrating my birthday we received news that my mother had suffered a serious brain bleed and was not expected to survive.  And thus our grieving as a family, residing in three countries, began, and my path changed unexpectedly.  I headed home early away from my daughter and her hubby, the sweet new baby and his four darling siblings, totally missing my vacation time planned in Thailand and Vietnam with my son and his family.  I arrived home after my mother had passed but in time to plan her funeral and host out of town family. The following week I was present as she was laid to her rest during a trip for Hubby and me to her burial place next to my dad.  Several days after our return, on October 31st an early snow covered our Midwestern town and perhaps we could have seen the unusual snowfall as a reminder that nothing is for certain and anything can happen.  The path, so filled with hope and promise in September, had been rocky indeed.

2020 arrived with all the hope each new year brings.  I celebrated New Year's Day at home with three of my children and their families before taking my son to the airport the following day.  He and his family flew home to Thailand and I looked forward to seeing them later in the year when they returned for their annual visit.  Of course now we know that being together again remains unknown.  The world is a different place and circumstances and travel restrictions have changed for everyone.  

As 2020 continued we all soon began the terrifying slide down the analogous mountainside.  For me, even before Covid-19 had spread to the entire USA, I faced an emergent illness and hospital stay, a cancer scare and surgical procedure and the death of my dear aunt, who was laid to rest in February. Shortly thereafter the shutdown began. 

Six months ago, on March 14th, Hubby and I went shopping in a store, got a haircut and picked up food from Applebees.  That's the last time we have done any of those things.  Other than necessary doctor and dental appointments, we have sheltered in place with time for local family visits planned in advance with all involved cooperating with social distancing.  This is our personal choice and we respect that others have made different choices.  Our new normal includes shopping online, picking up groceries in the trunk of our vehicle and experimenting with home haircuts.  With avoiding restaurants and fast food venues, we have learned that cooking and baking at home has many benefits.  Our love of going to the theater and the movies has been temporarily satisfied via cable tv.  We worship online with our church family in Florida.  I have taken up an old hobby and found fulfillment in giving to others.  Not being able to go to the fitness center, Hubby enjoys his walks around the neighborhood where he spreads his distanced cheer to everyone he meets.

Remarkably we have done very well during these six months.   We have found joy in celebrating the birth of our tenth grandchild, attending the birthday parade for our four-year-old grandson, socially distancing at the Sweet Sixteen birthday of our oldest grandchild and celebrating our Fiftieth Wedding Anniversary with a drive by party.  Each of these occasions, although different than originally planned, was filled with joy and thanksgiving.  The times we could be together with family here have been truly happy times.  Although we realize nothing is normal, and once in a while our gatherings are bittersweet as we realize life as we knew it has changed and we long for the days before Covid and wonder when things will be normal again.

Thus we have learned that our life path in 2020 is challenging. This six months of slipping down the mountainside have not been all rosy and joy-filled.  We have seen neighbors struggle through Covid and recently had a scare of our own.  Hubby has had a recent hospitalization and new diagnosis.  We have learned to deeply appreciate the essential hospital workers in our time of need.  We attended the burial of our son-in-law's father while not feeling we could attend the indoor events.  We have grieved with others while not being able to attend memorial services.  We have prayed for a friend recently diagnosed with returning cancer and we pray for a cousin on Hospice.  We have cried at the deaths and illnesses of so many people here and around the world.  Having children in three countries, we have prayed mightily for each person's safe-keeping as well as for our friends and families in many areas.  We prayed as our daughter gave birth in the Spring during the height of the coronavirus pandemic in Chicago and were sad when we could only see our new granddaughter through glass when she came home from the birthing center.  We prayed too as six of our grandchildren in three different countries recently returned to school during a pandemic and as our daughter and son-in-law return to teaching as well.  There have been many challenges for each of us as I know there has been for each of you.    

Although we have been in our home for much of the time, we are well aware of the political climate and the divisiveness in this country and are deeply saddened by it. The Black Lives Matter cause has certainly been on our hearts and minds as well, as it directly impacts our family, and as it challenges our personal thoughts and actions.  We have seen long-standing friendships and family relationships challenged in light of so many issues in our world. We have seen truth marginalized and no cohesiveness of thought in our local community or our country. Instead of coming together in difficult times, relationships have been torn apart.  There has been much to deal with and to consider during 2020 and much to pray about indeed!  Who had any idea the 2020 path would be so filled with pitfalls?

Yes, I am still clinging on as I work to stay on my path.  I have learned many things:  Virtual hugs do not feel the same, but poignantly mean the same.  Don't take anything or anyone for granted.  Respect for each other is more important than ever.  Encouragement means so much.  My ideas may be different than yours but that doesn't mean they are wrong.  The sun still rises and sets each day.  God still sits on His throne and Jesus still lives in my heart.  Family and friendships are still the most precious gifts we have and relationships need to be cherished and cultivated.  Kindness matters and can be expressed digitally as well as in person.  Safety and security matters to everyone.  Journalistic integrity still matters.  Science still matters. Actions still matters.  Faith still matters.  Babies are still being born and people are still dying.  We have a finite time on this planet.  Hate, fear and lies are not beneficial.  Truth and facts matter.  Caring for and working towards the common good still matters.  So many lessons and thoughts as I reflect!

As far as I've gone in one year, I am amazed at the strength I still have in spite of the slips, falls, missteps, mistakes, illnesses, joys and sorrow I have encountered.  I am a different person this September than last September and hopefully a better one.  So many days of this path seemed difficult but wow, what character they have built in me.  I was so weak some days, but God saw me through.  Whether I was weak or strong, sad or happy, anxious or in peace He remained the same, and thus my journey continues knowing this to be true.  I walk forward and hope that my response to my journey in some way uplifts you as you travel along.  As I have said for many years to strangers and friends alike, "We're all in this together."

The path of 2020 had a beginning and will have an end.  On December, 31st we will reach the end of this path and at midnight I believe we will all rejoice that it is over.  No doubt we will feel like we have completed a marathon.  We will begin a yet unknown 2021.  Hopefully we enter it just a little wiser and a whole lot stronger, remembering the many life lessons we are learning this year.  We each can build on what we have learned about ourselves, about our families, about the society we live in and perhaps societies that seem foreign to us, and about the planet we share.  May we bring our best selves into the future as we reflect on the lessons we have incorporated along the way.  

May joy and peace, wisdom and hope, patience and gratitude, faith and love, along with sweetness and harmony be yours wherever your path leads.

Walking

Do you remember what you were doing on Sunday afternoon, May 25th, 1986?  Our young family of five along with my Grandpa Beezy in a wheelchair and my dear Aunt Ginny, and neighbors and friends from the community were standing in the middle of the closest major intersection near our house in a little community about an hour south of Chicago.  It was the Hands Across America event designed to raise awareness and contributions towards hunger and homelessness.  The concept was to form a human chain across our country.  Holding hands was to be a symbol of our unity as a nation.

Wow, have times changed!  Now, suddenly we are asked to distance ourselves, not only as a practical life-saving strategy but also because we care about each other.  Six feet suddenly seems like the greatest distance in the world!  

Oh, to hold a hand right now!

Thus far, in my walk through this uncertain time, I am constantly reminded of what I always took for granted.  I could make a long list of these precious things currently missing from my life, as could each of you.  We are daily, even moment by moment, reminded of these things.  No matter how long my list might be however, on the top of that list is the ability to give and receive a hug.

Three days ago my seven-year-old granddaughter, along with her daddy and mommy came knocking on our patio door as a surprise.  They brought smiles, encouragement and a couple of grocery items.  Yesterday my three-year-old grandson came to play in our backyard while his daddy and pregnant mommy sat several feet away from us on the patio.  Having only seen these dear ones on a device screen for several days, it was delightful to see them in person!  However the yearning to touch them and hug them was unbearably sad.  Emotions I have never felt came pouring out of some place I had never gone to before.

Yes, for each of us the life we had has changed forever.  Perhaps only in a movie could we have imagined this life we are now living, the plot of which would have seemed like fiction three weeks ago.  Oh, it was so much easier when this story was taking place on the other side of the world.  We could watch the news and think, thank goodness that's not happening here.  

For me it was a bit too real as I have two families I love dearly who are living in the far east.  My son and my daughter and their families were closer to the epicenter of disaster and that made it more worrisome for me.  However, it was still far away from my daily life, and perhaps to shelter my own response, I kept my emotions in check.  

Now, not only one country, or one region share this awful thing, but the entire world shares it.  This is the reality.  This is the fact.  This is how the world is connected, and a result of how the world is connected.  We can debate who did what to make it worse or who made the best decisions along the way but the fact is we, the world, are all in this together.  If we debate, let our discourse be for the common good and to prevent this from ever happening again.

The tragic losses, the physical and emotional suffering, the fear of the unknown, the loss of control and the major and minor daily inconveniences are our new reality.  None of us knows what the next hour or the next day will bring.  The only thing we can do is to keep walking through this.

I choose to walk through this new reality living my best life possible right now.  Oh yes, there have been tears.  I let them flow and then I take a moment to refocus and get on with my walk. I am going to follow scientific data that indicates social distancing is the best thing for me, for my immediate family living in three different countries, for my neighbors and community and for the potential benefit to every single person in the world.  I am going to encourage you to do the same.  I am going to be grateful for all the people who are on the front lines.  Their sacrifice is truly incredible! I am staying busy within my own little world hopefully still contributing by sewing masks and by staying in touch and encouraging each of you.  I am going to pray that good things can come out of what we are going through, and of course I am praying for a swift end to this world pandemic as well as our safe keeping.  

Gratitude, along with distancing and encouraging and praying and walking is all I can do. It is also everything I can do.  In my mind the way the 2020 version of Hands Across America (and the World) works is that we are standing six feet apart from each other, but perhaps when we have walked through this time together we will be closer than ever.   Our new perspective will have forever changed. May we be willing to learn the lessons form this walk and have a better understanding of what is truly important!

Keep walking!  

Keep loving!

And oh yes, keep hoping that hugs will never be restricted again!

Homecoming

The sun was shining brightly on the October day in Iowa...the day I took my mother home.

So much had led to this morning.  Saying goodbye, with tears pouring down my cheeks at the airport in Okinawa, while the two-year-old called over and over, "Good-bye Grandma" was a moment I will never forget.  Leaving my daughter and her family of seven too early was painful.  Rerouting my itinerary to make it back home to avoid the typhoon and sitting in an airport in Seoul made the trip home almost surreal.  Saying hello to the daughters who had been by my mother's side during her last days and at the moment of death was sweetness and tragedy mixed together.  Their strength in my absence is a gift I will hold in my heart forever.  Settling into home with my dear Hubby after a three week absence was comforting and safe as the jet lag hung mysteriously over me and funeral plans were being made.  Oh the emotions as I arrived home to begin my mother's homecoming!

Days later family surrounded us for a short time.  They arrived from near and far.  Friends came and shared their fond memories and condolences.  Everyone was here and then they were gone.  The love, the togetherness, the tears, the laughter, the remembering, the stories, the sorting, the visitation and the funeral...it was a blur.  It was all good.  It was blessed.  Suddenly it was over.  Mother was honored but she was not yet home.

Twenty-five years ago I had not the strength to go to Iowa for my father's burial.  I thought I didn't have the strength to go and so I did not go.  I have always regretted that moment of weakness, that moment I thought I could not do one more act of public grieving.

This time I was the only one to accomplish the task.  I accepted that.  Hubby and I moved forward with the plan.  I would take my mother home.

A bus ride, and airplane trip and a rental car helped us accomplish the mission.  We arrived at my hometown of Council Bluffs, Iowa.  We drove around looking for places I remembered...my house on Bluff street, my elementary school, Bloomer School, my grandparents home on Locust Lodge, the church, St Paul's Lutheran, where my parents were married.  The places I remembered were precious to me on this October day.

The next morning Hubby and I arrived at the cemetery.  The hill to my parent's gravesite was as I remembered.  The roses in my arms felt precious as I had chosen four roses for each of our parents.  For my dad there were three red roses and one pink rose.  For my mother there were three white roses and one pink rose.  Yes, our parents had produced one dear pink girl and three handsome, precious sons.

The funeral director from Illinois was present.  He had driven from Illinois to western Iowa with our mother's remains.  Also present was the pastor from the church where our parents were married in Council Bluffs.  All was in order as I gazed at the hillside Hubby and I had to traverse.

As if heaven opened to me, all of a sudden, there was family arriving.  My cousin, who I had never met, had arrived to help me through this moment.  She brought her husband and told me that her brother would also soon be arriving.  There, in the midst of emptiness, she and her family arrived as if a multitude of angels had appeared.

The depth of the cold morning hit me as we sat down for the committal service.  I was shivering as the pastor began.  I reached for my newfound cousin's hand.  I thought I couldn't do this thing.  But I knew I was not alone.  My father's family was there with me.  I could do this thing...this bringing my mother home.

I look back now to this moment in Iowa.  It was blessed indeed!  Hubby and I were there along with the family that were meant to be with us.  My mother, along with my father were with their maker.  They were surrounding us with heaven that October day.  Their remains, all that we could claim, were on that gentle sloping hill in a cemetery in Iowa, but their souls were together and far beyond what we could even hope or imagine.

The sun was shining brightly on the October day in Iowa...the day I took my mother home.

Reality

Caught somewhere between the reality of a three-year-old and a ninety-six-year-old, my daughter and I found joy on this day in late July.  

It was somehow a terribly busy day in which we failed to accomplish all we set out to do.  Then came that moment.

My mother who has recently suffered from bouts of dementia, especially when ill, began to tell a story.  Four generations were traveling in my van together to take her for a scan of her neck.  Yes, she had broken her neck in January and needed one final CT scan, however that is a story for another day.  She began by saying,  "I was going to ask Justin if this was real or not."  She continued to tell an amazing story about her new apartment.  "You know there is a fire alarm on one wall and a phone thing on another wall.  Well, sparks were shooting between them and the alarm was making a sound like it was on fire."  On and on she went with her story.  

I reassured her, as I had done previously many times.  I gently reminded her that if something seems too unusual or unreal, it must not really be happening.  She patiently listened to me, and whether she accepted my analysis or not, she sweetly did not argue.  Rather she described in more detail what she had "seen".  

Three-year-old Wesley in the back seat was listening intently!  I reassured him that what Beezy thought she saw was not real.

After a few minutes of quiet had passed, Wesley began telling a story.  "Flames and sparks were shooting from the wall.  The firefighters and police officers came to help."  Wesley went on and on with his own animated version of the "spark story".

We were driving through the countryside and Beezy, my mother, began singing about the corn growing in Iowa...a song I had heard often as a child.  Wesley told her the music would make the police officer stop our car.

And so our morning went.  Wesley's mother and myself smiled and smiled.  And patiently listened.

The three-year-old and the ninety-six-year-old had stories to tell us.

We were blessed today to be the listeners.  And to contemplate the circle of life.  Today we fit in the middle of the circle and could tell reality from fiction.  Some day we will be somewhere else in the circle.  Hopefully, someone will be listening with joy to our reality.  Hopefully someone will still love us not matter what!

House

Excitement prevailed for this family of five one day in May nearly thirty-one years ago.  Dad, Mom and three school aged children were moving into their big new house.  Oh it was kind of an ugly house, built in 1978 and still decorated in browns and had lots of paneling.  The carpet was the ugliest ever seen!  But the brown house was nice and big and would be a great house for our large family. Sitting on that ugly carpet in the living room we ate our first meal together along with our gracious movers, friends, who volunteered their services.

Before we knew it, after some significant renovations, the house began to feel like home.  Celebrations began as birthdays came along in the house on Princeton Avenue.  Children, grandchildren, mom and dad were celebrated. Yes, there were lots of birthday parties, each one creating memories along the way and honoring life and family.

In this house, weddings and babies were celebrated with showers.  People were welcomed into the family at engagement parties.  Anniversaries were a time for reflection and a celebration of continuing love.  The season of tea parties began while we lived in this house and The Bourbonnais Tea Ladies became a symbol and vehicle for lifetime friendships.  

The house sheltered friends who gathered in.  There were so many people! Friends of each of our children, as well as the many friends we met along life's way, came through our front door. They all graced the house with their presence and their personalities.  Hopefully people went away a bit happier for joining in with our family.  Some came into our lives for a season and some for a lifetime.

We brought our fourth child home from the hospital to this house.  "It's A Girl" printed on a sign, draped the large front window to hale her homecoming.  All the thrill of new life along with the sleepless nights were lived here for our final time as new parents.  The sweet joy of babyhood filled these walls.  And before we knew it, that joy arrived again at the birth of our first grandchild, Elliana, who came home to our house as a newborn.

Yes, children have filled the brown house on Princeton!  For the first eleven years, a daycare business was operated here.   Over eighty children grew and played.  Big wheel bikes squealed down the gently sloping driveway along with sounds of laughter being heard up and down the street.  The backyard, which we fenced in, was a wonderful play yard, complete with swing set, sandbox, castles and forts.  And in the summer a "Slip N Slide" and small pool provided hours of joy.

Four teenagers passed through this house and grew into adults.  Lots of laughter and teasing was shared.  Events and graduations were celebrated.  Four kids learned to drive while we lived at the Princeton house.  Four college searches were accomplished. And, at times, doors were slammed, harsh words were spoken, guidance was given and tears were shed. In the end, four amazing, capable adults emerged.  They went away to college and eventually found spouses.  They moved in and out of our house as they began their early adulthood.  We all learned a lot!

And now, they gather back into our house, their childhood home.  They all made us grandparents and the eight little people who call us Grandma and Grandpa are such a delight to us.  Each birth filled our hearts with incredible joy, and each time the children and grandchildren came through the front door more memories were made.  Each Christmas and Easter, along with any other day of the year were reasons to gather together. The house even sheltered four generations at many of our gatherings as the "Greatest Generation" visited and loved and shared their wisdom with all of us.  Eventually a wheelchair was carried up and down the front steps to accomplish our gatherings.

Of course we had a good time keeping the Princeton house looking it's best inside and out.  Over the years many decorating projects were accomplished to keep the house looking nice, and stylish as well. One summer three teenagers painted the exterior and oh, what an experience that was! A bedroom was added as our family grew.  Eventually a wall between bedrooms was removed because so many bedrooms were no longer needed.  In later years we worked on making a perennial garden in the back yard and felt a sense of accomplishment as the plants pushed through the ground and grew bigger each year.  The beauty was truly enjoyed.  The fence, which was no longer needed, was removed.    

The brown house on Princeton sheltered us though many recoveries from surgeries, too many to count actually.  We came home to our sweet house, and through it all, the home therapies, the IV treatments, the tube feedings, all was accomplished within the walls of our house.  Learning to walk again over and over was a pattern too often followed.  However the most essential goal of recovery was achieved numerous times for both hubby and for me.

Recently we realized that our dear house on Princeton is too difficult to take care of.  The steps that we used to run up and down are now a challenge.  Taking care of the lawn and exterior has become too difficult and we are counting on the help of our kids and neighbors more and more.  And before our eyes we realize we can't stay in this house any more. It is time to say goodbye and find a house where we will be safe and also independent.  The home search has begun

.All of a sudden, but not really, everything changes!

                                                               ++++++++++++++++

Never having completed this blog entry, I come to finish it now nearly one and a half years later.  We are settled in our new house, the tan ranch on Bethel, and of course, are already making new memories here.  However, I wanted to finish my thoughts on the brown house on Princeton where so much of our life as a family of six happened.  When we sold that house, I wrote a personal note to the young family moving in there, a family of four.  I told them of all the little idiosyncrasies about the house that only we knew and I wished them a happy life. Once I wrote my thoughts to them I could move on. The new family has already made lots of changes inside and out, making the house their own, and that is the way it should be

With the help of our local children and their spouses, we staged, we packed, we stored, we cleaned, we listed, we sold and we moved.  Saying goodbye to the house was not difficult for hubby and me, for we knew the time had come to move on with life in a different place.  

Thank you brown house on Princeton.  You did a great job providing four walls where we could make a home for so many years.  You showed us that a house, even a seemingly ugly house at first glance, can become a home...a home where all six of us became the people we are today.   

Facebook

Facebook has become more than any of us ever imagined it would be.  Personally, I enjoy it for the most part.  I obtain a lot of news daily from news agency feeds I subscribe to.  I skip by the ads and have learned I don't need to read everything that comes through my feed.  Most importantly however, I enjoy seeing what my friends post.  I loved the end of the school year photos and of course the prom and graduation photos.  I find joy in seeing your babies and kids.  I like to hear about the fun you are having on your vacation and enjoy your smiles in new places.  I appreciate my friends who post the rainfall amounts. I feel close to you when prayer is requested or an obituary or Go Fund Me comes along. I even appreciate the opinion posts that so many of you put up.

I will admit it makes me happy when you like my posts.  And believe me when I say, it makes me feel closer to you.  I have relationships with people I would not have in any other way.  Friends from my childhood and brand new neighbors fill my thoughts as Facebook provides a forum for us to communicate.  Many of my children's friends are my friends also and I absolutely love seeing you succeed in life and raise your families.  If you are my friend on Facebook that means I care about you.  It's as simple as that.

Delighted am I indeed to live in a country where I, and all of you, are free to say what we believe!  I understand that we enjoy freedoms in this country that people elsewhere envy.  When I put up a post on Facebook or comment on yours, that is an honest opinion from me and I believe it also is an invitation to you to give your opinion.

My thoughts ran deep yesterday as my friend and I spent the day together.  We chose the excursion to the Illinois Holocaust Museum knowing it would be interesting but also heart-wrenching.  Heart-wrenching indeed it was!  Standing in a railway car which once traveled back and forth loaded with one hundred people at a time crammed into the space for four days hit a spot in me that words cannot describe!  In fact, I cannot write any more on this subject.  It is too close right now.

To my surprise there was also a special exhibit on slavery in this country from 1808 to 1865.  Interestingly the other three people in our excursion were black ladies of our generation.  Also interestingly enough, my friend and I both have  grandchildren who are biracial.  So as we walked through the exhibit each of us were touched in unique and profound ways.  Seeing ads in newspapers of the time which advertised lots in reference to selling people was absolutely indescribably shocking.  The entire exhibit made me sick.  How could people have done that?  How could people have watched them do it?  How does anyone think this is not still impacting us today?

The lovely elderly docent, a Jewish woman of course, who showed us through the museum asked us to notice that during both of the eras described above, there were people who remained silent.  She suggested that they were as much to blame as those who committed horrendous acts against their fellow man.

As you can imagine, my friend and I were tired physically and emotionally by the end of the day, having toured the Chicago Botanical Gardens as well as the museum.  The day was a moment in time for us to reflect and also to enjoy our longtime friendship.

And so, after my day, thinking of all of you, I shared some very brief thoughts on Facebook...opening my heart to you.

Honestly, I had no idea my short post would generate a debate between my friends.  However, I respect that each of you had the right to say what you wanted, and needed, to say.  The fact that we don't agree is fine as long as we can accept that my ideas may be different than yours.  And that's okay.

And thus the abortion debate came about.  

I would like to state my personal thoughts on the subject once again.  I personally could never choose to have an abortion.  I do believe every person conceived is unique in all the world.  My four children are precious to me beyond words...as are the four babies I lost when they were only very small embryos.  At the time I carried them they were as precious to me as the four who grew nine months within me.

My experiences have helped form my beliefs.  One of the children I lost was growing in my fallopian tube.  That embryo was cut from me because it could have killed me if left where it had implanted.  That decision was made between me and my physician.  One of the children I carried to full-term could have been aborted as well.  Twenty weeks into the pregnancy a blood test was performed, which I did not know about, and I was told that there was a strong chance that the child had Down Syndrome.  The suggestion was to find out, and if indeed that diagnosis was confirmed, I could still "take care of it".

If you know me you know that I love deeply and with all of my heart.  Telling you the above stories certainly sounds much simpler than living through them actually was.  You can only imagine the angst and the decision making process I went through.  Yes, I understand some things on a very personal level.  The things that I describe above happened in my body.  I would never want my government to tell me what I could or could not do in either of those situations.  I do not believe the government has a place at all in decisions which involve a woman and her body.  I find it horrendous to criminalize a doctor or a woman for making these very personal decisions.

Compelled to write this blog post in response to a simple Facebook conversation is a freedom I have enjoyed today.  I don't expect you to agree with me or disagree.  And I don't care how long you want to discuss it.  I respect your right to do so.

I am still grieving for all who have been lost unnecessarily...during the time of  slavery in the United States, the Holocaust or through abortion. I grieve the loss of my four children who had every potential in the world to make a difference, just as their four siblings still have the opportunity to do.  

I will listen to you.  Please listen to me.  

Scars

I have many scars!  My hands and wrists alone tell quite a story.  If you looked carefully you would find over twelve surgical scars, some directly on top of another.  My now thin wrinkled skin has been opened again and again often in the same place.  The right wrist is fused and the left has been replaced more than once. 

Surprisingly I am thankful for every one of my scars!  You see, each scar tells a story and each one also shows me all that God has brought me through.  Each one is a reminder of a difficult, frustrating and painful time, from which I have survived...and not only survived but thrived!  And of course along the way, in addition to the scars my spirit  has gained empathy, compassion, patience, understanding, purpose and strength.  My faith has been tested and my faith has grown.  I have witnessed the miracle of a wound healing over and over again.  Yes, each one tells a story and I do indeed cherish every one.

No one would wish for my health history.  I have been wheeled into an operating room for surgery fifty-one times!  Fifty-one times I have felt that moment of saying good-bye to the dearest people in my life and have then been wheeled into a gleaming room surrounded by strangers.  Fifty-one times I have thankfully been "put to sleep" one way or another, many times with a general anesthesia, each time hoping that I would wake up again following surgery.  Only once did I wake up during surgery..  Fifty-one times I have awoken in a recovery room, thrilled to be alive, but bombasted with pain, trusting implicitly that the one recovery room nurse assigned to be my helper and defender would do their best for me.  Fifty-one times I have waited for the news...."Things went just great" or sometimes, "Things did not go as planned".  One of those times I was told thankfully, "No there is no cancer".  Four times found me saying goodbye to a baby I had only begun to love because my body rejected the pregnancy. 

Fifty-one times I have faced "The Recovery" and all it entails.  I have willingly or not moved into that phase which always is accompanied by pain, emotion and change.  This phase often requires bracing and therapy, and sometimes ICU stays, tube feeds, hallucinations, infection control, medication side effects and any number of things I never even imagined. I now am missing several body parts, and I count on titanium and bone grafts to hold me together in several places.  I can't begin to even count the number of times, complications have been part of my recoveries.  No, no one would wish for my health history, but without fail, fifty-one times God has brought me through it all and therein lies the true blessing!

My most recent scars turned from the expected one in the front of the neck to another even more extensive scar on the back of my neck. Two months ago I checked into a major teaching hospital for a standard ACDF surgery, a fusion in the area of the neck to alleviate pain in the left upper extremity.  I chose a renowned surgeon.  Do you think things went as planned?  No they did not.  I awoke from the surgery with an amazing recovery room nurse attending to my vitals and pain level, only to be told by my daughter who soon appeared with Hubby dear, that "things did not go as planned".  Honestly, I was not even surprised.  Four days later, after shedding a few tears, I headed back to the OR for a second surgery.  This one involved more vertebrae, a second more painful incision, a longer time in surgery and an eight-day stay in the hospital rather than one.  My recovery has been rocky and is still a work in progress.  

And so on this Thanksgiving, I give thanks to God, who has been my constant through all of my journey.  He knew just days before my milestone birthday of 70 years, that I would be challenged once again.  He knows that my energy is still low and how much I want to get on with life.  He knows how the fusion is fusing or if it is not.  He knows when my strength will be fully restored.  And so I rest in Him and find peace, and I find joy where I can.  I am so thankful for my husband and my two nearby daughters and their families who are my primary source of support.  On Thanksgiving and always, I give thanks for these treasured gifts of family, faith and healing.

Finally I wish for you a very Happy Thanksgiving!  As you cherish those dear, dear people in your own life who mean so much to you, and as you enjoy perhaps a little too much turkey and trimmings tomorrow, I hope you count your many blessings.  Among those I hope you too can be thankful for your scars, seen or unseen, because they are the character builders that make you the person you are today.  You wouldn't be you without them.  

Endlesss

Tomorrow will be a good day! It will be the culmination of all those waiting days. In a sense it is the fulfilment of four years of concern and pain and doctor visits and procedures and tests and finally me saying yes to a surgery that really scares me.

Time is so interesting!  Since August 3rd, when the pain could not be controlled I knew I would have to say yes to the surgery I was scheduled for two years ago.  I had put it off as long as I could.  Since August 16th, I have known the specific date the spinal fusion would be performed. And from that day until now time has mysteriously taken on a new character.

Minutes slowed and then of course hours slowed.  I tried to continue being with the people I love and enjoy activities we did together to the extent the pain would allow me.  But in those in between hours, time just seemed to suspend itself. Counting the weeks and then days until surgery became second nature. Today I am counting the hours. I'm helpless to the power of time.

Then of course, without fail, worry came to visit during those long suspended minutes and hours.  Practical knowledge did little to balance the "what ifs".  

Tomorrow will come and then I will know the outcome of the surgery.  Then the post-op days will reveal successful healing without complications or they will reveal something worse.  I have always been a realist.  

I am also a Christian and so I stand today facing the future that only God knows and in this hour I will rest in the loving arms of my Savior and give my emotions a little break before they truly break me.  I know that no matter what happens, He will have my back...and I mean that literally!  

Thanks to each of the encouragers I have in my life.  Thanks to all of the positive thinkers.  Thanks to all of the doers of kind acts and the speakers of kind words. Thanks to all of the folks who say, "I'm thinking of you."  Thanks to the pray-ers like Delores who I just met yesterday and to all of you I have known for much longer.  Thanks to a confident and compassionate surgeon.

Time dragging.  Worry creeping.  Pain teaching.  Love pouring. God reaching.  

Life is so precious.  Maybe time suspended itself so I could appreciate it even more.  Maybe pain appeared so I could appreciate the moments it is gone. Yes, tomorrow will be a good day!

Transition

Reacting to a phone call from my mother, I jumped into the car.  It actually was just another one of the phone calls we have received with some regularity notifying us that she was in the Emergency Room.  Very independent at age 94, she said, "I am in the ER because I fell.  I didn't want to bother you but they told me I should call someone."  It was my grandson's first birthday and our family was excited about his party just three days away.

Not knowing what to expect, I entered her ER room to find her in good spirits as usual. Lying on a cot, she was in a great deal of back pain.  She told me that she had turned and taken just a couple steps away from her walker to grab something from the table.  I groaned inwardly as I had told her many times not to do that.

That's the facts of what changed the rest of my mother's life and my first reaction was anger at her for doing something I didn't think she should have done. 

Six weeks have transpired since that day.  Details could fill pages so I will only present highlights:  

An ER doctor suggesting I should take my mother home when she could not even sit up.
ER scans that didn't include the injured area.
A week of severe disabling pain passing before further testing was done.
The diagnosis of a compression fracture following a terribly painful ordeal of a test.
The promise of the surgical procedure providing immediate relief.
Hospital and nursing home staff that are amazing and those who are just the opposite.
Pain, phone calls, family visits, money concerns, social workers, Angst.
Moving into a nursing home twice.
Falling in a nursing home when the CNA walks away.
Knowing the best outcome is leaving independent living and moving to assisted living.
Challenging a facility for their neglect.
Closing out my mother's apartment without her there.
Sorting through so much stuff and wondering why things were so important.
Losing mobility and strength and imagining life forever changed.

Hmm, guess there were a lot of highlights!  My mother lived through that and so much more!  I lived through that and so much more!

Oh, when did this life crisis become about me?  Apparently it has taken six weeks to realize that even though my emotions have been on a roller coaster and I am physically exhausted, my life will go on pretty much the same.  It is my 94 year old mother who lost her cherished independence, went through day after day of excruciating pain, and came out looking at an uncertain future.

Six long, demanding weeks for me to realize what my mother truly needs.  She did need me and my siblings to step up to the plate and help make hard decisions.  She needed me to be a liaison when talking to medical staff at several times and several places.  Her ears don't work well anymore so she needed me to listen and explain what she could not hear. She needed me to listen when she was in pain or frustrated.  She needed me to be her daughter.  Some days I was good at giving and some days my emotions or my own pain or fatigue seemed to get in the way.
What a journey this has been!

Maybe this time has been a time for reflecting also.  Who could begin to count what my mother has given me?  How were things during my first few weeks of life for my mother?  Do you suppose she gave and gave until she was exhausted?  Perhaps her emotions were on a roller coaster then.  She had so much to do just to keep a household together and care for her two small children.  Do you think she always had someone to listen to her?  Was she ever frustrated?  Perhaps I could have been a better daughter now for I know she was a good mother then.  Maybe I still have some things to learn. 

Fortunately life goes on for both my mother and me.  I hope we have learned from this hard time and go forward even stronger.  

I wonder what tomorrow will bring?  I hope whoever needs me, I will be ready.