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.

Grandmother

Almost twelve years have gone by since I became a grandmother.  My Elli girl will celebrate her birthday in just three weeks.  I remember the day she was born as if it were yesterday.  My joy at her arrival was almost surreal.  The next generation had become a reality and I took my rightful place as her happy, fulfilled and involved grandma.

Always having loved babies and young children it was an easy and joy-filled transition to grandmotherhood.  In fact my life path had led to this moment.  It had included teaching first grade, operating a home daycare and raising four children of my own.  Elli and I bonded immediately as this beautiful blue-eyed baby girl stole my heart.  Fortunately for me, she has not yet reached that time in life where spending time with grandma isn't cool. She still loves our times together and maybe will never go through a stage where she doesn't.  For now I bask in that sweet place she always sees me in and relish each conversation and activity we find ourselves in together.

Almost five years passed before another special child came into my life.  Elijah's birth, which I attended, was another incredible life moment.  My first grandson had entered the world and I was right there to greet him!  Now a sometimes serious, sometimes silly seven-year-old, he too still loves time with grandma. Unfortunately we don't live near each other anymore but nonetheless our bond is beautiful and time together is cherished and always mutually enjoyed.

Then came the years where babies abounded!  One after another in quick succession each of our four children produced offspring.  Less than two years apart Elisha and Elizabeth arrived to make Elijah a big brother.  Between those births, Megan made Elli a big sister.  Also during this time came the firstborn sons of our oldest and youngest children.  Michael and Wesley entered our lives and hearts.  Each birth was so special.  I attended the births of Megan and Wesley and in awe counted my blessings while seeing each of my daughters give birth.

Not only did the babies come quickly during the past four years, but each one, beautiful and unique stole their grandma's heart.  Now seven little darlings call me their grandma and I am over the moon happy to be there for each one.  I cherish these children.  They are so very precious.  I delight in them.  And yes, whether they live near or far away, I love them more than I could have ever imagined.

Each individual, unique in all the world.  Their little personalities shining through to delight this grandma and grandpa and their parents, our children.  I wonder what each child will become.  What will they see in their lifetime?  What will be their gifts to the world?  Who are the people each of these children will touch and influence?  It's truly amazing to ponder the potential and impact they may have.

About ten days ago we were informed that another little baby is on the way into our lives. Our eighth grandchild is due to arrive in January.  Wow, when this child arrives, we will have six grandchildren ages four and under!  Unbelievable! Another soul in the universe who in some sense belongs to us.  Awesome! Amazing! Incredible! Such a blessing for hubby and me and for all the world!

I was asked by one of my children recently which grandchild would be my favorite.  Wow, that answer was so easy.  This grandma's heart has no favorites. My love is boundless and free-flowing to each precious child.  Could I begin to compare blue eyes to brown eyes, or black curly hair to blond locks?  Never, for each is as beautiful as I ever could have imagined children could be.  Could I compare cleverness and cuteness?  Impossible, for each little person carries many traits that this grandma finds amazing, unpredictable and darling.  I can say that I truly delight in each of the seven children that came into my life like beautiful gifts.  Like jewels on a necklace, each as precious as the next.  No, there are no favorites in this heart.  Be assured dear children of mine, that no matter how many grandchildren you provide me with, they will all be cherished and loved unconditionally by this grandma.  That's the way love is.  But of course, you already knew that.

Hubby and I will soon celebrate 46 years of marriage.  As a young and happy bride I never could have imagined where our love would take us.  The journey we have walked together has had a few bumps but mostly has been blessed in so many ways.  Love for each other blossomed into love for our four beautiful children and the spouses they have chosen.  And now love, with an energy all of it's own, blossoms again as each baby is added to our family.  

And so now the bud of joy and anticipation, filled with love, waits once again for January to arrive when God will bless us with another child who will be special in all of the world to this grandma.  I pray for the safe development and arrival of this child.  I pray also for: #1, #1, #1, #1, #1, #1 and #1 who I have already cherished since the day each was born.  Yes, of course, every child is #1 in my heart and nothing will ever change the depth of my love for each of them and for each of their parents.

Filled with love, I hold little hands whenever I can.  Every day I hold eight little hearts in my heart.  Precious grandchildren of mine always know your grandma finds joy each day because you are in my life.