tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64010546369625998912024-03-13T02:31:53.865-05:00Not Going GentlyGwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.comBlogger587125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-63155019681400202082013-06-30T01:30:00.001-05:002013-06-30T01:30:57.246-05:00A YearThis day, June 30, 2013, marks a year since my mom crossed over into heaven. I know, her grave marker and all official documents call it July 1, but that's just because we were so slow in calling hospice after mom passed. Dave and I wanted to give all our kids time to see their grandma and say a final goodbye before her body was taken away. Karis and Meg were out babysitting, so by the time they got back and the hospice nurse made it to the house, one day turned into another. But we know. It was June 30, 2012 when Mom took her last labored breath here, then took her first free breath on the other side. Way to go, Mom! You fought the good fight, finished the race.<br />
<br />
And us? We're still fighting, still running. Ev said the other day, <i>"A lot has happened in just one year."</i> Yup.<br />
<br />
Family converged and honored Mom. The garage and car flooded.<br />
A new school year started. Ev returned to homeschooling. I got sick.<br />
Karis stopped eating gluten. I stopped eating gluten. Ev stopped eating gluten.<br />
Nate played football. We all cheered.<br />
Dave and I enjoyed a respite in Montana. Nate got the flu and we got bumped.<br />
Karis unexpectedly lost a job, then found a few more. Meg worked two jobs. They both took college classes.<br />
I worked. Dave worked. And Dave worked on his doctorate.<br />
We celebrated holidays with Dave's family. Ev turned 14, Nate turned 16, Karis turned 20, Meg turned 18.<br />
Dave and I may have grown older as well.<br />
Meg graduated from high school. She'll finish up her two year degree next spring.<br />
Karis took summer classes. She'll finish up her two year degree probably this fall.<br />
I got iritis. Meg got glutened. Nate got a job at the city aquatic center.<br />
We put the lake house on the market. It is under contract.<br />
Dave declared Friday nights to be Family Night, and it is fun. I love these peeps.<br />
<br />
One of my sisters is looking for my mother's grandmother's last place of employment in Switzerland, where she was a servant before running off with a stable boy to the U.S.<br />
One of my brothers is preparing for his son's wedding in August.<br />
I couldn't tell you what my other sister or my other brother are doing, because we don't keep in touch. I figured that would be the case with my sister, but I did not see it coming with my brother and it is a punch in the gut every time I think of him.<br />
<br />
But the person I think of most is Mom.<br />
When I go to the beach, I think how she would have loved walking along and collecting shells.<br />
When I see her azaleas, camillias, magnolias bloom, I remember her delight.<br />
When I pull up dead brown plants from her yard, plants that died on my watch, I am thankful she is happy in heaven.<br />
When I ride in Karis' car, I think how proud Mom was of the Crown Vic, especially the cold a/c. (Especially notable here is that the '98 Crown Vic is the only car we have with working a/c right now.)<br />
When I sweep the porch and sidewalk, I recall how important that task was to Mom.<br />
When I stir up instant mashed potatoes, I know she does not approve.<br />
But when I make the roux for Grandma's Gumbo, I think of her great love for good food.<br />
<br />
And I wonder: How long does it take for her to fade? How long until all these sights and smells and actions are not saturated with memories of my mom? I know my mom missed her mama until the day she died. How long? Longer than a year, I guess. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-21627499152911938602013-04-11T20:43:00.001-05:002013-04-11T20:44:32.073-05:00A Thing I Learned About EasterThe miracle of Jesus' power over death is magnified when you know what a terrible foe He overcame. Death is relentless, inescapable, overwhelming, no matter how hard you try, no matter who you are. <br />
Unless you're Jesus.<br />
Thank God.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-57176971115988930122013-02-04T19:50:00.000-06:002013-02-04T20:17:20.142-06:00LegacySweet sight on the dining room table this morning: <br />
<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCEPQbKHGjhWdhyphenhyphenWlic9DwU8M4A7SDvMCdS7VggsTP-BxGxyGN4nu4KqohFQS728QT3s-WJF8nwwZygFRhD9woqaddnxSgLhOFxzd9ZSUj6PJFdNXqcs6YIom7JkPMUw6WOv_y8-pF_5KY/s640/blogger-image--2050900415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCEPQbKHGjhWdhyphenhyphenWlic9DwU8M4A7SDvMCdS7VggsTP-BxGxyGN4nu4KqohFQS728QT3s-WJF8nwwZygFRhD9woqaddnxSgLhOFxzd9ZSUj6PJFdNXqcs6YIom7JkPMUw6WOv_y8-pF_5KY/s640/blogger-image--2050900415.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Karis using Grandma's Bible for her quiet time. Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-49928634879146858292013-01-29T19:53:00.000-06:002013-01-29T19:58:00.089-06:00Memory LaneIt's been about a year since my family moved in with Mom. I think we have all been thinking about her. Karis said something that was very Grandma. Nate said he was hungry for one of Grandma's hamburgers. (No one makes them like she did, but Karis comes closest.) Meg noticed Grandma's beautiful pink camelia blooming. Ev wore Grandma's shirt to class. <br />
<br />
I went back in my blog last night to find the entry for the day we moved in. I found it, and then read through the rest of January. And February. And March, April, May, June. I think I gave it up somewhere in July. <br />
<br />
Oh my. The sweetness and sorrow. <br />
The regrets. <br />
I wish I had been kinder and gentler. <br />
I wish I had started slipping Mom medication sooner. She suffered so and was unable/unwilling to ask for help.<br />
I wish I had gone for a walk every day.<br />
But mostly, I wish my parents weren't gone.Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-63419804240427989112013-01-14T22:07:00.001-06:002013-01-16T00:23:56.695-06:00Happy Birthday, MamaToday is Mom's birthday. <br />
<a href="http://notgoinggently.blogspot.com/2012/01/sibling-revelry.html">A year ago, her five children gathered to celebrate Mom's 91st year. </a> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7H6YSy2uLWQvv5ZcAcIabtjYNyg6omkm0k12DsZL-F51YHJlM8Y_B1cKg86SU-cEEFuJ1ECtSARlz_nXCTHxW59P0-jFzvUglxzDjyBbas-_lq47U1AFZ6vYfiDzCBOL6PacWp0ftz4XB/s1600/securedownload-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7H6YSy2uLWQvv5ZcAcIabtjYNyg6omkm0k12DsZL-F51YHJlM8Y_B1cKg86SU-cEEFuJ1ECtSARlz_nXCTHxW59P0-jFzvUglxzDjyBbas-_lq47U1AFZ6vYfiDzCBOL6PacWp0ftz4XB/s320/securedownload-1.jpeg" /></a></div>This year, I like to think my Grandma Minna whipped up one of her famous towering cakes in honor of her girl's 92nd. Maybe they even hopped in the car for a road trip to celebrate. <br />
Happy Birthday, Ma. <br />
I love you and miss you.Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-66487599960919654572013-01-04T20:19:00.000-06:002013-01-04T20:19:08.987-06:00ShadowsSanta brought me David Crowder Band's <i>Church Music</i> in my stocking this year. (Thank you, Santa!) I love this song called <i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ls1KbEGwXZ8">Shadows</a></i>.<br />
<br />
<i><blockquote><b>Life is full of light and shadows.<br />
Oh, the joy and oh, the sorrow.<br />
Oh, the sorrow.<br />
And yet will He bring day from night.<br />
And yet will He bring dark to light.<br />
When shadows fall on us,<br />
We will not fear.<br />
We will remember.<br />
When darkness falls on us, <br />
We will not fear.<br />
We will remember.<br />
When all seems lost,<br />
When we're thrown and we're tossed,<br />
We'll remember the cost.<br />
We're resting in the shadow of the cross.</b></blockquote></i>Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-67744465738158071522013-01-03T14:10:00.000-06:002013-01-03T14:10:53.063-06:00GoodI've been thinking about 2013. <br />
I am not sorry to see 2012 go. <br />
2012 was hard. <br />
It was sad. <br />
I long for better days. For happiness, health, and sparkle. <br />
<br />
But the more I think about it, the more I realize that even though I can say goodbye to 2012 and know I won't go through that again, there is no guarantee for sunshine and light in 2013. I can long for better days, but the only sure thing I have is God's promise to work all things together for GOOD for those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose. Well, that's me. I love Him. I'm called according to His purpose. So as we begin the new year, instead of fixing my hope on an easier life (which I still would really, really like), I'm going to look for the GOOD in each day. <br />
<br />
I think that is my word for 2013: GOOD. <br />
<br />
As in, Be the GOOD you want to see in the world.<br />
And, Surely GOODness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.<br />
And, Be GOOD to yourself.<br />
And, Overcoming evil with GOOD.<br />
And, Is this GOOD for me?<br />
And, He isn't safe, but He is GOOD.<br />
<br />
A friend posted this prayer from <i>The Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers & Devotions </i> on her blog. She gave me permission to share it here. <a href="http://kindred-heart.blogspot.com/2012/12/years-end.html">Thank you, Nikki!</a> I think it is a powerful benediction to 2012 and blessing on 2013. God is GOOD.<br />
<br />
<b>O LOVE BEYOND COMPARE</b>,<br />
<i><blockquote><b>Thou art good when thou givest,<br />
when thou takest away,<br />
when the sun shines upon me,<br />
when night gathers over me.<br />
<br />
Thou hast loved me before<br />
the foundation of the world,<br />
and in love didst redeem my soul;<br />
Thou dost love me still,<br />
in spite of my hard heart, ingratitude, distrust.<br />
<br />
Thy goodness has been with me<br />
during another year,<br />
leading me through a twisting wilderness,<br />
in retreat helping me to advance,<br />
when beaten back making sure headway.<br />
<br />
Thy goodness will be with me in the year ahead;<br />
I hoist sail and draw up anchor,<br />
with thee as the blessed Pilot of my future<br />
as of my past.<br />
<br />
I bless thee that thou hast veiled my eyes<br />
to the waters ahead.<br />
If thou hast appointed storms of tribulation,<br />
thou wilt be with me in them;<br />
If I have to pass through tempests of persecution<br />
and temptation,<br />
I shall not drown;<br />
If I am to die,<br />
I shall see thy face the sooner;<br />
If a painful end is to be my lot,<br />
grant me grace that my faith fail not;<br />
If I am to be cast aside from the service I love,<br />
I can make no stipulation;<br />
Only glorify thyself in me whether in comfort or trial,<br />
as a chosen vessel meet always for thy use.</b></blockquote></i>Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-4207559568565494742013-01-02T14:15:00.000-06:002013-01-02T14:19:22.445-06:00SparkleAt some point this fall, I realized that every article of clothing I've purchased since Mom's passing has had one common characteristic. <br />
<br />
Sparkle. <br />
<br />
I didn't do it on purpose, but everything has a little bit of bling. Normally, I'm not a blingy girl. Usually, I gravitate toward fall colors and solids with nice textures. (So much so that I did not know you cannot make it through airport security with sparkles on your shirt. Who knew?) <br />
<br />
I guess somewhere in my sub-conscious, I had a need to shine. And after all, I think a little sparkle is a nice antidote to the last year.Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-62247502491764644702012-12-30T13:39:00.001-06:002012-12-30T13:39:11.106-06:00Not Forgotten FlowersBeing a Kansas girl forever and always in her heart, Mom loved sunflowers. These are two beautiful arrangements that were sent from family and friends for her service. I know this post is oddly out of place, but I've had it sitting unfinished in drafts for quite a while and didn't want to forget the happiness-in-a-vase that was sent our way.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdPzzdBk3eYaUw2Iws54yfDyWpjLBk4EZRLGj1pM4QRnS4Lwxxm1Foplt3DLfTwUK_6WBLALw0CoNw72M-F6TEzImdVnJE-YayN-Npv3A9Duf-rsUhgWQdLJpiYEyYzInc7mtO1g4vwuK/s1600/securedownload-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdPzzdBk3eYaUw2Iws54yfDyWpjLBk4EZRLGj1pM4QRnS4Lwxxm1Foplt3DLfTwUK_6WBLALw0CoNw72M-F6TEzImdVnJE-YayN-Npv3A9Duf-rsUhgWQdLJpiYEyYzInc7mtO1g4vwuK/s320/securedownload-1.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9pkoHujT7j4th1S-PzCYgJHbOA1F7s5XOIko3gJPHj7JZyAJeuT3VVGaIBywDcf4Ku2zopssuH7UNUvAnoXnefeXhrSSVeH-pgAqLuGF8wMcpIrgw5o6OM2EgSQY4cylz4pBtJom5hjT/s1600/securedownload.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU9pkoHujT7j4th1S-PzCYgJHbOA1F7s5XOIko3gJPHj7JZyAJeuT3VVGaIBywDcf4Ku2zopssuH7UNUvAnoXnefeXhrSSVeH-pgAqLuGF8wMcpIrgw5o6OM2EgSQY4cylz4pBtJom5hjT/s320/securedownload.jpeg" /></a></div><blockquote><b>“Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” <br />
― Marcel Proust</b></blockquote><br />
<br />
<br />
Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-84542111023075219632012-12-29T12:26:00.001-06:002012-12-30T13:30:03.323-06:00Welcome, ChristmasYears ago, my sister wisely told me that life sort of moves in group stages. There is a time period where all your friends are getting married. There is a period where all your friends are having babies. There is a time where all your friends are sending kids to college. And so on. Actually, at the time, she and her husband were at an older urban church in Chicago, and she was explaining to me that most of their parishoners were at the time where all their friends were dying. And now it seems I find myself in the time period where all my friends' parents are dying.<br />
<br />
Of course, that is a generalization, and not necessarily true across the board. Some of my friends' parents passed away years ago, shocking us into the awareness of our own parents' mortality. Some of my friends posted Christmas pictures of their kids with their parents this year, looking hale and hearty. But many of us are missing our folks this year. In early December, I attended a funeral for a dear old friend's mom. It was a lovely service, and included a reading of this poem:<br />
<br />
<blockquote><b>I see the countless Christmas trees around the world below <br />
With tiny lights like heaven's stars reflecting on the snow. <br />
<br />
The sight is so spectacular please wipe away that tear <br />
For I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year. <br />
<br />
I hear the many Christmas songs that people hold so dear <br />
But the sounds of music can't compare with the Christmas choir up here. <br />
<br />
I have no words to tell you of the joy their voices bring <br />
For it is beyond description to hear the angels sing. <br />
<br />
I know how much you miss me, I see the pain inside your heart<br />
For I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year. <br />
<br />
I can't tell you of the splendor or the peace here in this place <br />
Can you just imagine Christmas with our Savior face to face? <br />
<br />
I'll ask him to lift your spirit as I tell you of your love <br />
So, then pray for one another as you lift your eyes above. <br />
<br />
Please let your hearts be joyful and let your spirit sing <br />
For I am spending Christmas in heaven and I'm walking with the King. </b></blockquote><br />
The words of the poem were very meaningful to me, and allowed me to really, truly look forward to Christmas with excitement like I haven't had in years. But probably not the way you think.<br />
<br />
My parents were never especially celebratory. They were not big on gift-giving. No one would ever accuse Bill and Ann of being festive. Mom and Dad were strong, salt-of-the-earth folks; they just were never very merry and bright. Perhaps this book that my sister and I found when going through Mom's things explains it best: <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92bADvsmoVardCxZ7ojPGMNZcWsv-WgDO0_M_tf5a0f2-n2MkFumku9EBzzEBNEVOvzx4WoD-ki067H9F4YmlfTuT_objFLZFFYTd8Zadq5j0ONfAVc5ZWZiTYEFKpy68VOBy7dEwmvvS/s1600/securedownload.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi92bADvsmoVardCxZ7ojPGMNZcWsv-WgDO0_M_tf5a0f2-n2MkFumku9EBzzEBNEVOvzx4WoD-ki067H9F4YmlfTuT_objFLZFFYTd8Zadq5j0ONfAVc5ZWZiTYEFKpy68VOBy7dEwmvvS/s320/securedownload.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
Following Mom's tradition, we set out Great Aunt Ora's hand-painted nativity, dutifully placing the wise men afar, so as to remain biblically accurate. But when Ev and Nate hung our old school colorful Christmas lights this year, it was the first time this house has ever worn Christmas lights. And when Dave drilled holes for cuphooks under the mantel, it was the first time a row of stockings had a home there. We moved Mom's little tree with its single strand of white lights to the dining room bay window, in order to make room for our big tree, covered with a mosaic of ornaments and colored lights. We plugged in our little illuminated snowman, holding his sign, <i>"Welcome, Christmas."</i><br />
<br />
And welcome Christmas we did. It was a joyful time all month long with family and friends. It was filled with generosity and surprises, big and small. It was wrapped in the truth that God is with us. <br />
<i>God is with us.</i> <br />
<br />
For me, Christmas this year was free from the confusion of how to celebrate with my parents. No more wondering if they push us away because they truly want to be alone, or if they think they are freeing us up. No more trying to get things just right, not too much and not too little. No more guessing. No more wishing. <br />
<br />
Because this year, I know Mom and Dad had the best Christmas ever. They celebrated like crazy, decorated over-the-top, hosted parties with tons of food, gave brightly-wrapped gifts to everyone, laughed and sang, and filled each other's stockings on Christmas Eve. Why?<br />
Because they are with God. <br />
Of course they are merry and bright this year. <br />
<i>They are with God.</i> <br />
How could they be anything less? Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-21561430731203438612012-12-29T01:24:00.001-06:002012-12-29T01:24:30.357-06:00HelloWe still have Mom and Dad's land line here at their house. Not all of us have cell phones, so we feel that we still need to keep it. The phone doesn't ring very often anymore, except for some reason my husband likes to call us on the home phone. I'm not sure why. <br />
<br />
The day before Christmas, the phone rang. I knew it wasn't Dave, because he was watching the Cowboys game in the living room with Nate. A sweet little voice asked if I was Ann. I explained who I was, and the caller asked how my mom was doing. I replied that Mom was doing very well, because she had gone on to heaven this summer. Then I repeated myself at her request. The sweet caller was a longtime friend of my parents. Her husband had been the best man at Mom and Dad's wedding that snowy New Year's Day so many years ago.<br />
<br />
She told me that she didn't really stay in touch with my mom regularly, but just wanted to check on her and wish her a Merry Christmas. How dear is that? She stayed on the phone for quite a while, telling me about her children and grandchildren; where she lives now; how she met my dad and then my mom; a bit about life back in the day. She asked where Mom and Dad were buried, and was disappointed that I hadn't run the obituary in the local Kansas paper like Mom had for Dad. (I tried, but contacted the wrong paper and never heard back.)<br />
<br />
At various times, I had to explain the yelling in the background (heartbreaking Cowboys!), and I mentioned K-State doing so well in football this year. She agreed, and added they were now doing well in basketball. Such an interesting person. Such a sweet call. I'm glad we kept the land line.Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-56734827278475180052012-12-27T21:30:00.001-06:002012-12-28T00:10:56.552-06:00I'm Baaaaack!A few weeks ago, a friend asked if I was finished with this blog. He wondered if he should delete the icon from his desktop. For some time, I did feel like <i>Not Going Gently</i> was done. I felt I had nothing left to say. But lately, I've had some swirling thoughts asking to be written. So, Big John, if I'm still up there, don't delete just yet please.<br />
<br />
One of the things rattling around in my brain is my health journey these last few months. I had the delightful opportunity to lunch with a dear friend recently, and she asked me about it. Really asked me, wanting details and dates. And I could not remember clearly. I'm pretty sure I gave her inaccurate information, so here for the record is the timeline:<br />
<br />
<b>September 6 -- </b>Tightness and pain starting in left shoulder and spreading through chest and back; shortness of breath; went to see doctor; diagnosis of pleurisy. Home with steroids.<br />
<br />
<b>September 11 --</b> Symptoms return, more extreme; doctor sends to emergency clinic; diagnosis of pleural effusion. Home with antibiotics.<br />
<br />
<b>September 18 --</b> Symptoms return, not as severe; doctor prescribes more antibiotics, sets up appt. with pulmonologist.<br />
<br />
<b>September 24 -- </b>Pulmonologist says please come see me any time something is wrong with your lungs. (This is not that time.)<br />
<br />
<b>October 2 --</b> Still fatigued; further bloodwork with doctor which reveals nothing except low Vitamin D levels.<br />
<br />
<b>October 25 -- </b>Appointment with functional medicine doctor. She recommends low dose of thyroid, gluten-free diet, treatment for yeast overgrowth, megadose daily of Vitamin D. Sends me home with test kit for hormones/adrenals.<br />
<br />
Within days of starting thyroid medication, I felt SO MUCH BETTER. Unbelievably better. Like magic. <br />
<br />
So much better that Dave and I were able to go on a getaway to Montana that we had planned months before, but were beginning to wonder if I could make it. We had a delightful time together with friends who moved to MT, rested a lot, remembered that we liked each other, and made it through a travel adventure to get home the day before Thanksgiving. We spent Thanksgiving at home instead of with extended family because Nate came down with the flu the day before we returned. <br />
<br />
And then the following Monday, I returned to work with my students at Brighter Vistas. Three weeks later was finals at school (which we fondly refer to as "Hell Week") and then, wham, it was Christmas. Somewhere between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I received word from the functional medicine doctor that I did indeed need adrenal support, so I added DHEA to my daily cocktail of supplements. I have continued to feel really really good. (With the exception of yesterday afternoon and today--holiday exhaustion? virus? allergies? Who knows.) I even wake up thinking purposefully and positively about my day, instead of trying to imagine just dragging myself out.<br />
<br />
My takeaway from this whole health experience? I wish I had known. I wish I had gone to see Dr. Caldwell at the beginning of full-time caregiving just as a preventative measure. I wish I had not waited until I had inexplicable health issues that stopped me in my tracks and robbed me of six weeks. Caregiving, loss, and grief are hard, hard work. They drain our emotions, our souls, AND our bodies. We can only soldier on for so long without support.<br />
<br />
So here's my Public Service Announcement: Get thee to a functional medicine doctor. Have your levels tested, see where you need to get support, and make changes. Taking care of yourself is not optional; it's a necessity. Really.<br />
<br />
<b>Postscript:</b><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.functionalmedicine.org/about/whatisfm/">What is functional medicine? </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.functionalmedicine.org/practitioner_search.aspx?id=117">How can I find a functional medicine doctor?</a>Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-23202856077407673132012-10-09T22:16:00.001-05:002012-10-11T13:36:22.787-05:00So, It Turns OutI'm more like my mother than I thought.<br />
<br />
<i>I don't like being weak.<br />
I don't like being dependent.<br />
I don't like having other people do my work.<br />
I much prefer being the helper to being the helped.<br />
</i><br />
Although I'm stronger after my bouts of pleurisy last month, I still struggle with fatigue. every. day. I haven't made it to church or work in weeks. I missed a weekend at the beach with my fine arts group from high school. I went to Nate's game last week, but that was a mistake. This past Sunday, Karis came and got me so I could say goodbye to our worship pastor and his wife and family after church, and I came home tired, sweaty, and pale. What is wrong with me? I need a nap after going somewhere for an hour?<br />
<br />
My brain is tired too. It is hard to put words together. Conversation is wearing, and writing does not appeal. I don't know if the stress and strain of the past few years, and especially the last six months with Mom, have just weakened me to a breaking point, or if there is some medical answer. My doctor referred me to a pulmonologist, who declared my lungs to be just fine. So, back to my doctor, and now waiting on some more bloodwork. And I have an appointment with our functional medicine doctor coming up this month.<br />
<br />
I'm taking Vitamin D. Magnesium. Probiotic. Multivitamin. Emergen-C. Vitamin B12. Basically, anything anyone mentions that might help. I'm eating super healthy with lots of meat and veggies, homemade broth, some fruit, and not much sugar. I really don't know what else to do.<br />
<br />
I was surprised recently to realize it has only been three and a half months since Mom passed away. I kept counting the months over and over on my fingers to make sure. It seems like an eternity ago. So much has happened, but still I feel oddly inert, like I'm not making headway with life. I guess being sidelined for a month will do that.<br />
<br />
<b>Postscript:</b> I called today and learned that my bloodwork results are on the doctor's desk, so I'm hoping to get some news tomorrow. Maybe some answers or at least some direction. This whole invalid situation is wearing a little thin.<br />
<br />
<b>Postpostscript:</b> All bloodwork normal. Will see functional medicine doctor at end of month. Everybody else is out of ideas.Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-30003734125074298722012-09-14T20:58:00.001-05:002012-09-14T20:58:56.036-05:00The Big Red ChairBefore she died, Mom declared that Dad's big red chair should stay with the house. It is a nice chair, and I'm sure other relatives would have liked it, but Mom was adamant. I'm not especially fond of the chair and don't usually sit in it, but okay. Other people in my family do enjoy having a nice recliner and it is probably the nicest piece of furniture we've ever owned. <br />
<br />
Still, every time I happen to sit down in it, I think, <i>"I really don't like this chair."</i> It tips into recline so easily that you can't really just sit unless you perch on the very edge. It smells mildewy. It reminds me of my parents' decline. But now I find I need to officially apologize to the red chair for every ugly thing I've ever said or thought about it, and apologize to Mom for not being as grateful as I should have been for her gift of the red chair. Because over the last week, the red chair and I have come to a new understanding.<br />
<br />
Last week I got short of breath and my chest hurt. I went to my doctor, found out my heart and lungs were okay, and came home with a diagnosis of pleurisy and some steroids to reduce the inflammation. My chest hurt too much to lie down in bed, so I slept in the red chair for the day and half of the night. The pain went away, but my energy never returned and I spent even more time in the red chair.<br />
<br />
This week the pain returned, even worse, so that I couldn't wait for my doctor's appointment. Dave took me into the emergency clinic, where we found again that my heart was okay, but there was pleural effusion, fluid in between the lining of the lungs and the chest cavity. Ew. And ouch. After a bag of IV fluids, Dave took me home with more antibiotics and a bottle of vicodin.<br />
<br />
Back to the red chair, where I have spent the past three days and nights. I still can't sleep in bed for any length of time, and the smallest exertion sends me back to the chair. Dave and the kids have once again stepped in to pick up the slack. Friends and family have brought meals. A small group from church brought food and circled around to read scripture and pray over me. All as I sit in the red chair. The kids observed, <i>"You're like Grandma and Grandpa!"</i> Oh boy. Pretty much, but I don't think we need to call hospice just yet.<br />
<br />
Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-17526798853323802572012-09-08T20:42:00.000-05:002012-09-08T20:42:32.392-05:00Word #4<i>[The last of Dave's sermon at Mom's service.]</i><br />
<br />
<b>Embrace God’s GRACE and Hang ON!</b><br />
<br />
Mom experienced God’s grace. Her father died when she was two. She was raised by a mother who loved her and raised her with great attributes. She was able to travel, learned to work, graduated from college and held important jobs on her own. That’s a lot of grace, Depression era!<br />
<br />
Mom exhibited grace through her wonderful smile and could exhibit a gentle grace that was charming to others. One time over lunch, we were at Saltgrass. We were sharing a meal which was NOT my idea; it was the idea of the Depression-era baby in our group. We split a steak equally. However, she got six asparagus stalks and I got three. My favorite vegetable!<br />
<br />
Ann showed her charming grace by asking the waiter for the recipe for the Shiner Bock bread. The waiter kind of put her off and ignored her. The manager came by and she asked him. He crawfished a bit and said that they could not give out the recipe. She asked if he could give her the ingredients. He said, <i>“Sure.”</i> He came back with his handwritten list of ingredients. She began to ask questions about how they mixed what and when. Within five minutes she had the exact amounts of each ingredient and how they treated it. She drew him out. Gwen used to refer to it as <i>“Mama Mojo.” </i><br />
<br />
Mom continually experienced God’s grace. She recognized how much God had forgiven her by His grace. Ann recognized how God had carried her marriage along despite some of her gaffs and goofs. She wrote this in a note, <br />
<br />
<i>“After 62 years of marriage, I love to reflect on God’s pursuit of His own and that no human love will satisfy the soul. He keeps us seeking Him. He would not have invited us to seek Him if it wasn't the desire of his heart. His grace has blessed me beyond measure.”</i> She closed it with the <i>“Jesus’ Prayer”: “Be merciful unto me, a sinner.”</i><br />
<br />
Ann recognized God’s all-sufficient grace at work in her life. God says that His power is perfected in our weakness, that His grace is sufficient. <br />
<br />
As Ann’s body began to fail in the final weeks, she experienced God’s grace through an image He gave her of her home-going. I read the following from the blog which Gwen journaled along the way…<br />
<br />
<blockquote>I do think it is significant though that in Mom's last weeks here, she thought a lot about the eagle scene from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Return of the King. As she got closer to the end, she couldn't remember details like Tolkien's name or the name of the book/movie. I overheard her trying to tell an old friend who had stopped by with homegrown tomatoes and love. She couldn't come up with the words she wanted so Mom said, "You know, it's written by that mathematician and the story is a myth, but it goes along with the Bible." [Isaiah 40:31 with eagles soaring which I read earlier.] <br />
<br />
She explained to me that she was thinking of after Frodo and Samwise had disposed of the ring, and had run outside on Mt. Doom, and the mountain was erupting into rivers of lava, leaving the hobbits exhausted and stranded on an island of rock. Then the eagles came and carried them to safety, just like they had rescued Gandalf before. <br />
<br />
Of course, Mom was dreaming of the end of her own hard journey, when she too would soar like eagles. And God is faithful and kept His promises to Mom. She did finally fly away. But this passage reminds me that God is faithful to me too. He doesn't lose track of me. He doesn't come and go. He lasts. He gives fresh strength. Thank God.</blockquote><br />
Grace Wins! Ann received her freedom from this world on Saturday night, June 30. <br />
<br />
By God’s grace, Ann entered into the presence of our Lord. The apostle Paul wrote, <i>“to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.”</i> (2 Corinthians 5:8)<br />
<br />
How is it possible that human beings, who are estranged from God, can be present with the Lord Jesus upon death? The Bible says that we are born estranged from God because of sin. We are a rebellious lot. Like Ann said, <i>“Egos die hard.”</i> Most of us resemble that remark. The reward for being stiff-necked is independence from God now and for all eternity. God desires differently for us. He loves people. Jesus died a sacrificial death on the cross so that all who believe in Him might live. He died in your place for your sin. He offers life—abundant now and eternally in His presence—to all who commit their lives to Him. <br />
<br />
I challenge you to accept God’s offer of life today. Receive Jesus into your life. Acknowledge your inadequacy and need of a Savior. Invite Jesus into your life. You can do this in the silence of your heart. He will forgive your sins and enter your life to lead you. <br />
<br />
I challenge you to receive God’s wisdom in your relationships. <b>Be teachable! Own your sin. Keep your vows with humility. Embrace God’s grace and hang on!</b> He will work. May you go in His peace. <br />
Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-66308854740598628402012-09-07T18:24:00.000-05:002012-09-07T19:00:53.716-05:00Word #3<i> [More of Dave's sermon from Mom's service.]</i><br />
<br />
<b>Keep your vows with humility.</b><br />
<br />
Tim Keller says, <i>“Wedding vows are not a declaration of present love but a mutually binding promise of future love.” </i><br />
What is love? Love is a sacrificial commitment to the good of another. <br />
<br />
Our culture taints love with a consumer approach. We date. We put on our best face. We marry. We declare a love that will absolutely last unless one of us changes. That’s consumer love. Consumer love says, <i>“I will love you until you gain weight, lose your job, get sick or lose your hair. At that point, I will find someone more suitable to my likes and dislikes. Or I will be bitter and make your life a living hell.”</i><br />
<br />
However, wedding vows find greatest resonance in the concept of the biblical covenant. The Covenant love of a wedding vow is a mutually binding promise of future love. We need that kind of security. Both parties say, <i>“I love you come what may.”</i> <br />
<br />
Covenant love is driven by the deep, inner quality of faithfulness. God’s great desire for marriages is that they are not necessarily happy or successful, but faithful. Faithful to a sacrificial commitment for the good of the other come what may. When that happens it is not us keeping the vow, but the vow keeping us. <br />
<br />
Why is faithfulness in vows so important? Inherent to being human are these conditions:<br />
If we are loved but not known, we find it superficial. You think I’m great because of my clothing, looks, job or money? That is shallow!<br />
However, our greatest fear is to be known and not loved. That hurts. Reason we wear so many masks and hide behind ego and pride.<br />
BUT: To be fully known and truly loved is the BEST. It is a lot like being loved by God. Such a love gives all of us hope—whether single or married. That is why God requires faithfulness in our relationships. <br />
<br />
Ann realized the beauty of a covenant love. She recognized the need for humility. She readily admitted that <i>“Egos die hard.” </i><br />
<br />
Mike Mason says, <i>“A vow is, per se, a confession of inadequacy and an automatic calling upon the only adequacy there is, which is the mercy and power of God. To keep a vow, therefore, means not to keep from breaking it, but rather to devote the rest of one’s life to discovering what the vow means, and to be willing go change and to grow accordingly”</i> (p. 106). <br />
It takes humility to change and grow accordingly. It takes an openness to the changes in our spouse and to God changing us. <br />
<br />
Ann says: <b>Keep your vows with humility.</b> God will make you adequate with grace, mercy and strength. In these ways, it is the vow that then keeps us. <br />
<br />
<i>[One more to follow...]</i>Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-32145997419363818492012-09-06T16:12:00.000-05:002012-09-06T16:13:42.084-05:00Word #2<i>[From Dave's message at Mom's service.]</i><br />
<br />
Ann's second word of wisdom is: <b>“Own your Sin. Repent.” </b><br />
<br />
There is no greater way to grease the bearings of a relationship than to take responsibility for your own mistakes, foolishness, meanness and sin.<br />
<br />
Ann spent a great deal of time ruminating, meditating and thinking about God’s truth. She measured it out to see how it fit her life. She would try it on. She would obey. She also knew how short the gap was between obedience to God’s way and asserting her way. <br />
<br />
I would say that Mom struggled with God—in a good way. Some people fight God. And lose. Ann struggled with God. She was fond of saying, <i>“Ego dies hard.”</i> She also wanted to ruminate on something until she had it figured out. Here is how God taught her in regard to her marriage. Butterflies struggle or they do not live. Ann was the same way in her transformation.<br />
<br />
One day at <i>Pie in the Sky</i> over lunch, we were talking about our reading in the One Year Bible. Mom read through the Bible over the course of a year these last couple of years. She said, <i>“I don’t think it is fair that Moses could not enter the Promised Land. Why didn’t God let him?”</i> I replied that Moses had disobeyed God and that was God’s decision. Moses would lead the people. Moses would see the Promised Land and then he would die and be buried. <br />
<br />
I told her that Moses did what Adam did in the Garden. He participated in the hypocrisy of blame. Adam sinned. When God asked, <i>“Why?”</i> Adam pointed to Eve and said, <i>“The woman that YOU gave me, caused me to sin.”</i> Double blame. In our reading that day, Moses (Dt 3) blamed the Israelites for causing him to be angry and disobey God. He did not own his own sin. <br />
<br />
Those principles from Scriptures stayed with Ann. She often talked about it. She was saying, <i>“If you sin, own it. Repent. Accept God’s grace. Grow through it.”</i> I believe it influenced her thought. When reading John Eldridge’s, <i>“Waking of the Dead”</i> in fall of 2010, she noticed a poem by one of her favorite authors, George MacDonald. This became her life poem from his <i>“Diary of an Old Soul.”</i> This poem is like a morning prayer in which the speaker seeks God’s grace to sustain her through the day without giving in to temptation. MacDonald wrote: <br />
<br />
<blockquote>With every morn my life afresh must break <br />
The crust of self, gathered about me fresh; <br />
That thy wind-spirit may rush in and shake <br />
The darkness out of me, and rend the mesh <br />
The spider-devils spin out of the flesh — <br />
Eager to net the soul before it wake, <br />
That it may slumberous lie, and listen to the snake.<br />
~ George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul<br />
</blockquote><br />
Ann felt like too many marriages exist on the absurdity of blame. She saw in her own life how she blamed her own poor attitude or behavior on Bill when, in reality, she was at fault. How could Bill make things right for her perceived injustices blamed on him? He could not. That is the absurdity of blame.<br />
<br />
I think it is incredible how Ann continued to grow and learn and recognize God’s truth for her life from Scripture. Her second Whispered Word to us is:<b> “Own your sin. Repent!”</b><br />
<br />
<i>[...more to follow.]</i><br />
Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-23421783156114793472012-09-05T23:35:00.000-05:002012-09-05T23:35:01.266-05:00Word #1<i>[From Dave's sermon at Mom's service.]</i><br />
<br />
<b>Word of Wisdom #1: Be teachable: learn from Jesus.</b><br />
<br />
Teachable means “apt to learn” according to Webster’s dictionary. That was Mom. <br />
Mom loved to read<br />
Mom loved to study God’s Word: LBS: meaty questions, not fluff; year ago, finish BSF!<br />
Mom loved to listen to teaching of God’s Word, several sermons a week<br />
Mom stayed current on the issues relevant to our culture and our country<br />
Mom was teachable. In my perception, I count it as her greatest virtue. I met her when she was 66. I’ve seen a great deal of spiritual growth in her in the years since then. In fact, by listening to her, I would say that she has experienced greater spiritual transformation into the character of Jesus Christ in the last 20 years than her first 70 years. That gives all of us inspiration and hope for our later years!<br />
<br />
Let me share with you what Mom considered her greatest lesson. It will provide better understanding to why she favored a message on marriage. <br />
<br />
In 2002, Mom fell and broke her leg—her femur—up near her hip. I walked into the hospital and read five verses from Isaiah chapter 40 to her. They are verses of great comfort and promise. They are also a bit humorous to someone who just broke her leg/hip (we didn’t know). They refer to Jacob. Jacob was one who wrestled with God. God touched him on the hip and gave him a limp. Here it is: <br />
<br />
<i>Why would you ever complain, O Jacob, or, whine, Israel, saying, "God has lost track of me. He doesn't care what happens to me"? Don't you know anything? Haven't you been listening? God doesn't come and go. God lasts. He's Creator of all you can see or imagine. He doesn't get tired out, doesn't pause to catch his breath. And he knows everything, inside and out. He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts. For even young people tire and drop out, young folk in their prime stumble and fall. But those who wait upon God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles, They run and don't get tired, they walk and don't lag behind.</i> Isaiah 40:28-31, The Message<br />
<br />
We prayed that Mom would get strength back and run and walk again. After all, she was 81!<br />
<br />
Mom was incredulous that I would read that passage. She thought God had told me to read it. She considered herself a slow learner and figured He wanted to drive it home. While I always prayed over what passage to read with Mom or any patient, I could not admit to hearing God’s voice. Just wanted to tweak her a bit. Here is what happened in her words…<br />
<br />
Love your neighbor; your husband is your neighbor.<br />
<br />
Ann loved her neighbors down the street and across the world. But home was a struggle. They’re family, not neighbors! She figured she could get around that one. Until God got her attention. <br />
<br />
Loving her husband was an issue occasionally for Ann. Her authenticity in this issue was amazing. She assumed that she was every bit the wife she needed to be. She figured that she was living like Jesus wanted her to live within her marriage. She was not always happy, but she was still married. Jesus worked on her attitude. Ann recounted for me how she was connecting the dots in God’s slow, patient work on her as “Jacob.” <br />
<br />
Almost two decades before, she had taken a class on “Forgiveness” at Calvary Bible College that caused her to think about some of her attitudes in life, but especially toward her husband. In 1992, she heard a message talking about nurturing your spouse, discipling one another to Jesus as iron sharpens iron. According to Ann, this was one more step. Then she heard a good friend of mine named Mike give a Sunday evening message on forgiveness and marriage. She was connecting the dots, but not making a great deal of change until God gave her a limp. <br />
<br />
Ann’s attitudes toward Peycke began to change. She began to find freedom in loving her husband as God designed. She gained even greater insight to God’s work when she read in The Mystery of Marriage this statement by Mike Mason:<br />
<br />
<i>“For most people, in fact, marriage is the single most wholehearted step we will take toward fulfillment of Jesus’ command to love one’s neighbor as oneself.” </i><br />
<br />
Ann’s first whispered word of wisdom today is, <br />
<b><i>“Be Teachable. Learn from Jesus.”</i></b><br />
<br />
<i>[...more to follow.]</i><br />
<br />
Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-83465243076724371192012-09-04T10:27:00.000-05:002012-09-04T10:27:13.895-05:00Pastor and CommanderP. Dave, Pastor Daddy, P. Daddy, Bruhtha Dave, David. <br />
<br />
It doesn't matter what you call him; he's the bomb, and he's mine. My mom loved my husband. LOVED him. Seriously. And Dave loved her too. After Dad died, Dave would take Mom out for lunch. They would eat good food and talk about life. Sometimes they would talk about Mom's desires concerning her memorial service. And Mom gave Dave a hard assignment: She wanted her service to be about marriage. Really? A funeral service about marriage? Yup. She even had Dave purchase copies of her newly-found favorite book on marriage to be given out at her service. Really? Party favors? Parting gifts? Yup. No standard discourse on Psalm 23 for my mom.<br />
<br />
Dave wanted to honor Mom's wishes, and he wanted to honor Mom's life. I think he did both with his beautifully crafted words. I think they are an interesting combination of comforting and challenging. Here's the first part:<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Anna’s Message</b><br />
<br />
<blockquote>We have heard delightful stories of Anna’s life. Each one of you could add to these stories with your own. We have heard from those who loved Ann most deeply—her family. And she loved you. She gave focused attention to expressing her love to you over the last 18 months. She expressed her love to each child. She expressed her love to each grandchild. You were loved by Anna Adaline.<br />
<br />
We have also heard the comforting words of Scripture, promises from God to His people of faith. Joel [my nephew] read to us of God’s love from Romans 8:37-39. David [my nephew] read to us from John 14:6. We cling to God’s promises because they generate hope. They bolster our confident expectation of what God is doing and will do. We serve a living God who keeps His word. We have hope because we can take Him at His Word. <br />
<br />
We need hope. When you look at Ann’s family, you see mature and maturing individuals. You see people dependent on their Lord. You see people who love and respect one another. And you see human beings. Humans who will grieve in the coming days, weeks and months. <br />
<br />
It seems as if the dark cloud of grief has been around since the medical profession pronounced its death sentence over two years ago. Urgency of six months gave way to wondering. Wondering gave way to more playing. Playing gave way to watching. Eventually, Anne’s body prepared to go home to Jesus. We are dumbfounded as to what to do next. What will life be like without Mom? Dad left two years ago. Now, Mom is gone. <br />
<br />
God has given us the grief process to help us when attachments of the heart are dissolved. Mom won’t be here for us to share our thoughts and pictures and stories of children and grandchildren. We are new to this process. So there will be confusion, shock, guilt over things we’ve said; guilt over things we’ve left unsaid; anger at Mom, anger at God, anger at cancer, maybe even anger at each other. These things are normal. Emotions come and go as memories ebb and flow. We will have each other. More importantly, we will have our Lord. You do not walk alone as you deal with “Goodbye.” Jesus reminds us that He walks with us, never leaves us and offers us rest if we will trust Him with the burden. As Joel read, nothing can separate us from the love of Christ.<br />
<br />
So we come to the message. If you have been to Celebrations I have led, you know that I typically personalize a passage to the individual’s life whom we are honoring. Today is a bit different.<br />
<br />
I start off today by saying, “I hope that as you listen today, you will evaluate your own marriage or your own relationships.” Now that’s quite different for a Memorial Service! But I am serious! I am serious because Anna Peycke was serious! She requested a message on marriage based on Proverbs 27:17. She was so serious that she bought her favorite book on marriage (The Mystery of Marriage by Mike Mason) to give to you for coming today. We hope that we have enough to give one per family. When you leave today, you are invited to take one book per family, not family member, for as long as they last. <br />
<br />
I mentioned Proverbs 27:17. Solomon wrote these words in that particular proverb…<br />
“Iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.” <br />
<br />
Here in Texas, we are familiar with Harvey Penick’s “Little Red Book,” subtitled, “Lessons and Teachings from a Lifetime in Golf” (published when he was 88). He was noted as the greatest instructor regarding the mental side of the game of golf. <br />
<br />
Today, Ann is going to be our iron to sharpen us with her <i>Whispered Words of Wisdom</i>. Wisdom is TRUTH APPLIED, not factual knowledge, not information, but skillful living. For the follower of Jesus, it is skilled godly living. Ann offers to us four comments today based on my conversations with her. I will call them, <i>“Anna’s Whispered Words of Wisdom.” </i><br />
<br />
</blockquote><br />
<i>[...more to follow.]</i>Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-18454283357370718732012-09-03T22:18:00.000-05:002012-09-04T00:34:51.184-05:00Mom's ServiceAfter the not-quite-graveside, we went directly to the church, where more friends served us breakfast. People began to arrive for Mom's service. And I'm afraid at this point what followed is mostly a blur except for a few crystalline moments. <br />
<br />
One of those moments is my friend Mollie. Mollie and I have been friends since junior high. She is one of those rare friends whose heart remains connected even when separated by time and distance. She now lives a few hours away and has a couple of all-consuming jobs, but Mollie came for Mom's service. She came for me. I think that is what made her presence so comforting to me that day. I looked over partway through Mom's service and saw Mollie sitting by herself, parallel to me in the next section of seats. As soon as I could, I scuttled over to grab her hand and bring her back to sit with me. (One of the great things about having a pastor for a husband is that I can entrust the service to him, knowing he will do a beautiful job. One of the suck-y things about entrusting the service to my husband is not having him sit with me during my mom's memorial. Just in case it seemed weird for me to gather people up to sit with me. It still might be weird, but there you have it.) <br />
<br />
And I pretty much kept Mollie glued to my side for the rest of the time until she had to go home. Our church hosted an amazing potluck lunch for everyone after the service. Mollie stayed and sat with me and visited. Looking back, I probably did not greet everyone I should have. I certainly was not mindful of fulfilling the role of pastor's wife or good daughter. Maybe I was too exclusive or reclusive or something. I truly was thankful for all the friends and family who came to pay respects to my mom. But Mollie was definitely my comfort person, and I can't imagine I'd have made it as well without her. <br />
<br />
Another clear moment in my memory is my Nate. Oh, my heart. My tender-hearted, big 15yo boy wanted to read <a href="http://notgoinggently.blogspot.com/2012/04/my-tribute-to-grandma.html">his essay about his grandma</a>. At her service. Out loud. He revised with his educational therapist, Ms. Catherine, and practiced. We bought a suit and shirt and ties at Goodwill. (We bought shoes too, but he opted to wear his Vans.) His only fear: breaking down and not being able to finish. So that morning, Nate sat on the podium, then stood and began to read. And cry. <br />
<br />
I'm sorry to say Nate has inherited my inability to multitask while crying. For us, if it is time to cry, all other activity must cease. He could not pull it back together enough to form words, so his dad, my dear David, stood and put his arm around his boy and read the rest of Nate's essay about his grandma. Then Nate sat back down in his chair on the podium and pretty much cried for the rest of the service. I wanted to go and hug him and take his hand to come sit with me, but I didn't know how much he would appreciate that gesture from his mother. I asked him later, days or weeks later, how he felt about the whole experience. His only regret was that he had not been able to finish the reading. My boy. Love him.<br />
<br />
<br />
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Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-40613652846138740702012-09-03T21:54:00.000-05:002012-09-03T21:55:52.490-05:00GravesideThe day before Mom's memorial service, the relatives arrived. It rained. (Also, the day before Mom's service, the cultured marble guys came to install the new shower. Which is significant only because they used a product that smelled to me like bondo and filled the whole house with a pungent chemical smell. Which handily concealed the mildew smell from the other shower leaking. ) <br />
<br />
We met up at church and were served a delicious, comforting dinner by dear friends. So lovely to have friends who are willing to be the hands and feet of Christ. It was good to be together, and having the dinner at church also allowed the musicians to practice, and for Dave to give a run-through of the service. More friends had offered lodging for my extended family, so everyone had a place to stay. (Again, the Body serving us with love.) It rained.<br />
<br />
The morning of Mom's service, there was an optional viewing for family at the funeral home. (Optional because Mom had not wanted a viewing, but some family members did.) We had hoped to follow that with a graveside service for family, but it was still raining. Not raining like in the movies where everybody stands around with their black umbrellas, but big rain that made the world sodden and muddy and impossible to navigate. So we improvised and did the little graveside service in the funeral home chapel. <br />
<br />
It was fine, but somehow unsatisfactory and unsettling to me. I meant to leave my Mom at her new place next to Dad; instead we had to drive away through the pouring rain and leave her there in the funeral home. I don't know why, but thinking about it still makes me teary.Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-37567504313699117702012-08-19T17:39:00.000-05:002012-08-19T17:39:04.390-05:00Brand New DayThe comedy of errors that is our life continues. <br />
<br />
On the bright side, I was for the first time thankful that our carpets are still not tacked down and cleaned. But the reason I'm thankful is that the front bath continues to leak into the adjacent hall closet, so it's convenient to be able to just pull the carpet back up and set up the fans.<br />
<br />
The dishwasher started making strange popping and growling noises, so we discontinued use and are waiting on a repairman. <br />
<br />
Saturday while I was helping with a women's mentoring program, Nate was helping friends load up to move, and Meg was helping with some sort of movie shoot involving downs syndrome children, Dave texted me to ask who our electric company was in town. Evidently, some workers cutting down a tree in a neighboring back yard miscalculated and accidentally yanked out all our power lines to the house. Live wires in the back yard, anyone? Thankfully, no dogs or people were harmed. Power was patched up and will be fixed more permanently this week. <br />
<br />
And just last night, Meg observed that water was dripping from the ceiling of the same afflicted closet.<br />
<br />
Oh, and the washer ate Karis' dress.<br />
<br />
And Ev said goodbye to her best friend today.<br />
<br />
That's all I can remember right off hand.<br />
<br />
A friend sent me a link to <b><i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYqRfQ5G4as">this music video</a></i></b>, which captures things well, I think. (Thanks, Maria!) Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-49204528833744099792012-08-19T17:20:00.002-05:002012-08-19T17:21:44.672-05:00Marker MixupThursday evening, Dave and I met at the cemetery to visit Dad. I brought him a red rose.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wNZXO1416BUEBOewPMCAE1GBSfnPzrL5cuXvxx196T_1Z31RJWbKwIHJvrr6bLKn-MNGfAwziiEjLeWGR2Usb0lR3RZk2UsMoYMgbz0rAklv6CnJ66BsXcLIfTfcbQ58hZGUMoae7-YO/s1600/securedownload-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wNZXO1416BUEBOewPMCAE1GBSfnPzrL5cuXvxx196T_1Z31RJWbKwIHJvrr6bLKn-MNGfAwziiEjLeWGR2Usb0lR3RZk2UsMoYMgbz0rAklv6CnJ66BsXcLIfTfcbQ58hZGUMoae7-YO/s320/securedownload-2.jpeg" /></a></div>I was pleasantly surprised to find that Mom's marker had arrived and been placed next to Dad's.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_92qWLQ5TxwnjpEHtlRVHKQlz748pbRbQ3yhjOy5ziGg3WMY4nrixX88m6mEJDrnGBArHVJ9xlovnklyUdenBiKU6-5wlPn9lgNUxJEZg3zqqaLxxhQQaYtT5BFpPkOfK0Db5kjvmmhU5/s1600/securedownload-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_92qWLQ5TxwnjpEHtlRVHKQlz748pbRbQ3yhjOy5ziGg3WMY4nrixX88m6mEJDrnGBArHVJ9xlovnklyUdenBiKU6-5wlPn9lgNUxJEZg3zqqaLxxhQQaYtT5BFpPkOfK0Db5kjvmmhU5/s320/securedownload-2.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
Do you see it? <br />
<br />
I was not so pleasantly surprised to find that Mom's marker does not match Dad's.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVsC_UD4xx-ktjRfHTgTEIS-Z4lRPF3wvM_nMY8bczEnmM3DirYAoL_16fLlB5jkouQlbcr_jPK_4rCpUBrs_E4t4vckwJlh18N7Na8h52HEx2yToWXMC422d0jPQPvk67H24prVk7iV7/s1600/securedownload-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYVsC_UD4xx-ktjRfHTgTEIS-Z4lRPF3wvM_nMY8bczEnmM3DirYAoL_16fLlB5jkouQlbcr_jPK_4rCpUBrs_E4t4vckwJlh18N7Na8h52HEx2yToWXMC422d0jPQPvk67H24prVk7iV7/s320/securedownload-1.jpeg" /></a></div>Does. Not. Match.<br />
<br />
I did not ask for much with the marker, only that it be the same style as Dad's. I think that I am sufficiently calm now and will call Monday to have the situation rectified. But at the time, all I could think was: <br />
<i>"Will nothing ever be right in the world again?"</i><br />
<br />
I'm not sure.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-53509707894427177012012-08-16T14:53:00.000-05:002012-08-16T14:53:31.438-05:00Two Years GoneThinking of you today, Dad.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMZtZDE592aF7raHlEDhac5I4QAVCovbgq4PrBErErIpbvgdy9fzgNlVq8uvURwbmAl7wFZeHtLdqlkP1hNCuoBFRUvjwgMh_QXNlKZCzlH5Zkfj9FD2Jl8V4i7H8wmMU0tK4GKNJXntX/s1600/DSCF1417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZMZtZDE592aF7raHlEDhac5I4QAVCovbgq4PrBErErIpbvgdy9fzgNlVq8uvURwbmAl7wFZeHtLdqlkP1hNCuoBFRUvjwgMh_QXNlKZCzlH5Zkfj9FD2Jl8V4i7H8wmMU0tK4GKNJXntX/s320/DSCF1417.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6401054636962599891.post-22012273679266104302012-08-12T19:34:00.000-05:002012-09-04T10:23:19.521-05:00RememberingAs we prepared for Mom's memorial service in the weeks following her death, we asked our extended family to share memories of Mom/Grandma. And of course, friends and acquaintances shared their memories of Mom as well. It was really good for me to hear stories about my mom. Hearing from others who knew and loved her at different points in her life reminded me of who she really was, reminded me that Ann Peycke was not defined by the last miserable months of her life. She was so much more.<br />
<br />
Sister Gayle wrote: <i>She never stopped learning and trying new things. I brought mom a cook book written by a friend. It had a rye bread recipe that mom tried and proclaimed as the rye recipe she had been searching for all of her life! She was so excited to have her rye bread perfected! </i><br />
<br />
Brother-in-law Rich wrote: <i>Bill and Ann's investment in Ruth, me and our children has been an example of love, patience, courage, and generosity that revealed the depth of their understanding of servanthood and blessing which we will always draw on and treasure. Everything from Dad's showing me how to install a garage door opener (and doing nearly the whole job before I got back from work) and how to recover from spectacular water skiing face-plants to Mom's long nights helping calm a colicky baby, and her savory shrimp gumbo greeting every trip we made to Conroe. This was grace, pure and simple. Did we experience joy in their presence? Did we ever.</i><br />
<br />
Martha wrote: <i>I feel very blessed to have been her friend.</i><br />
<br />
(I will have to add more to this later, because I cannot put my hands on my notes.)<br />
<br />
As friends and family shared their thoughts and memories, and as I was reminded of who Mom really was, I started my own list of things I remembered and admired about my mom. <br />
<br />
*Mom had mad camping skills. She made primitive camping look easy.<br />
*Mom had an enduring delight in nature.<br />
*Mom never quit growing and learning.<br />
*Mom was a reader, always a reader.<br />
*Mom loved new music and embraced praise songs in church. She said it was practice for heaven.<br />
*Mom made real food.<br />
*Mom took on Feingold to make real food my family could eat.<br />
*Mom enjoyed travel.<br />
*Mom had mad sewing and upholstery skills.<br />
*Mom faithfully read aloud to her children.<br />
<br />
She was an amazing lady.<br />
<br />
Gwenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00297686154289200898noreply@blogger.com3