Last Load Delivered

I wish I could report that we finally are settled in our new home.  There are times when I wonder if that will ever happen.  While the process of moving and settling is definitely not complete, I can report that we did complete last stage of our move.  It only took us four months to complete all the stages that we established to make our move a bit easier on us.  I can congratulate myself on only taking four months to move.  I might have left the things in our storage shed longer, but Jim reminded me that one month's rent on the storage shed would pay for a cleaning lady once a month.  That motivated me.  

Back in September, I wrote in my blog (read it here) that we had completed Stage One and Stage Two in preparation for our big move which was occur in October.  I reported that our first stage required that we "Sort through professional papers, books, notebooks, teaching materials and memorabilia from the classroom and our professions." Once we had completed this task, which took a lot of doing, we then went on to Stage Two:  Move the things we have left from the basement to a storage unit.  

Today, we hired a couple of guys to move all those boxes that has been stored in a storage unit for the past four months to our home.  These two very efficient, energetic guys seemed to move all these boxes from the storage unit, into a truck in no time at all.  They then drove to our new home, unloaded the truck, carried all the boxes to the basement, patiently waited for me to determine which box would remain in the family room and which box would go to our crawl space that we are using as a storage area, and then they moved each box to its appropriate place.  Youth is on their side.  All of this took no time at all.  

Just before the movers arrived, I snapped a photo of the new bookshelves we purchased to hold the books that were stored in the storage unit.  Was I naive when I thought these shelves would hold all the books we kept?  Yes, I think I was.  Either that, or I was forgetful.  I forgot I had all those books in the storage shed when I bought these shelves.  Oops, somehow, I forgot that even though we got rid of nearly 1,000 books all told, we also kept quite a few.  These books were in the storage shed.  I wonder how I forgot that.  Perhaps, it was wishful thinking.  Today, my son asked where we had all these books before the move.  My reply, "Mostly in boxes in the basement."  Before the move, we got rid of old books that were outdated and that we not longer were interested in keeping.  I think we will be culling once again.  

Here is the view of boxes of books as they begin to arrive from storage. 

I really don't think I can fit all the books from the boxes on these shelves.  What do you think?  This is a view of one end of the large family room in the basement.  Jim's desk in one corner of the room.  The bookshelves are by the desk.  

This is another view of  view of the opposite end of the family room.  We have our television in this area.  I am still trying to decide the best use of the space.  I am also trying to put odds and ends in place.  The couch and the old pink chair lived in our living room in the old house.  They have been relegated to the basement in this house.  The couch is still in excellent condition.  I just didn't want it in my living room anymore.  I will get this area decorated at some point, but in the meantime, it is the place where old furniture and odds and ends are being deposited.  The old green footstools do not match anything.  Old, and tattered, I decided to move them and will recover them soon I hope.

 Here is another view of this room.  It is large, very large.  One end is Jim's study.  That is his black recliner on the left of the photo and the bookshelves are on the other side.  I am standing by his desk to take the photo.  

At this angle, I am standing near the television looking toward Jim's desk.  Yesterday, I nearly had all the boxes out of this room.  Now, it is filled again.  

The Stuff I Could Not Throw Away

After reading the above mentioned blog which was posted on September 29, 2012, I was struck by several things.

• I am amazed at how much stuff we have!  I thought we had gotten rid of so much.
• I am looking through the same professional books and papers again!  I thought I had done a good job of getting rid of stuff in September.  I find I still cannot get rid of so many papers.  I have no idea why.  I've decided to save my professional books one more year.  If I haven't used them in one year, I promised myself I will donate them.  
• I am struck by how much emotional attachment I have to things.  Somethings I just can't get rid of.  I found pillow cases embroidered by my grandmother.  They were turning yellow in a plastic container.  I decided the time is now.  Either I need to get rid of such things, or I should use them.  I decided they actually matched the duvet covers in the bedroom that the grandchildren use.  I will wash the pillowcases and put them on the twin beds in this room.  They will add a special touch.
• I am also struck by how important my time in the classroom was to me.  I just can't seem to part with cards from students, memorabilia that the students gave me, lesson plan books, unit designs, rubrics, and curriculum guides still hold a place in my heart.  I know I will never use them again, but I can't throw them away.  Do other retired teachers feel this way?
• Maybe I will have to hire a professional to help me get rid of all these papers.  

Just before we moved, I read a newspaper article about letting go of our 'stuff.'  I cut it out and put it on the refrigerator for reference.  I even saved the article!  I wonder where it is.  I remember that it said to save the stories about treasured items but get rid of the item itself.  I had such good intentions.  In the end, I just could not get rid of some things.  

At first, after I read the article, I decided I would not move the small table and chairs that my children used when they were growing up.  It sat in the kitchen next to the larger kitchen table when they were children.  It was the place where they sometimes ate their breakfast,  lunch, or a snack.  It was where they colored or played games.  When the children were grown, the small table and chairs went to the basement where it stayed until there was a family gathering.  Then, the chairs and table were toted upstairs for the grandchildren to use. 

I love this photo of the table.  Ok, really, I love the photo of Hannah using the table!  I just found it.  I would guess this was taken the day after a family Christmas party.  Hannah is enjoying one of those great cupcakes we used to always have for the kids.  Isn't she adorable?  Can you see why I could not give the table away?  It carries with it too many memories.

The photo below was snapped at a family Easter celebration.  Mason, Gillian, Hannah, and Atticus are all seated around the kids' table.  Julie, dressed in green, is leaning over the kitchen table.  This is just a quick snapshot of a family celebration, but now, at this date in time,  the photo captures a priceless memory of time gone by.  I notice the blanket no longer carried around by one of the grandchildren that is draped on my chair.  I notice Gillian is dressed in my apron and sitting on the pillow from my chair.  I see the cute little parkas the grandchildren wore flung on the hooks by the door.  

Now, the grandkids are grown up and the table is no longer needed.  

Mason and Gillian are teenagers.

They don't care about Easter baskets.

They would not fit in those chairs.

I have the stories.  

I have the photos.  

I kept the table.

It was in the last load delivered from the storage shed.  

It was placed in the crawl space.

I just could not get rid of it.

My Man is Back

My title for this post may need some explaining.  My regular readers may be wondering where my man has been.  In fact, they may wonder where I have been since it has been over two weeks since I last posted.  So, let me fill you in on what has been happening around here.

Jim, my man, sometimes known as my main squeeze, did not actually go anywhere.  He just has not been himself for quite some time.  As some of you might recall, in December of 2011, my husband dodged a major heart attack when it was discovered that he had a 95% blockage of his LAD.  You can read about that health scare here: Nails Dodges the Big One.

After this major life event, my husband was able to bounce back with renewed energy.  He lost weight, ate a more healthy diet, exercised three or more times a week on the elliptical machine, and walked a couple of miles a day.  Just one month after this crisis with my husband's heart, I fell down our basement stairs and suffered a head injury.  This meant he became the caretaker for me.  He took care of all the household tasks and drove me everywhere I needed to go.  More than that, he supported me through a very rough time in my life as I tried to overcome a traumatic head injury, a vestibular disorder, and debilitating anxiety.  At the same time, we had a very challenging new puppy that did not respond well to training.  Nails, another nickname for my dear husband, proved how tough and determined a man he was once again during this difficult time in our lives.  At a time when he should have been recuperating, he took care of me, and trained a difficult pup while recovering from having a stent placed in his heart just a few months before.

Early this summer, just as I was finally getting better, Jim began to experience some health symptoms that were perplexing.  He was extremely tired, his energy level was very low.  He no longer had the energy to work out or walk.   He seemed to be nauseated on a constant basis.  He experienced body aches, and he became nearly unable to walk because of pain in his hip.  Not only that, but he also began to suffer from depression.  I would ask him to describe what he was feeling, and he would say, "I just feel like I have a general malaise."  At first, I feared that his heart was bothering him again, but he did not have any heart related symptoms.  Every afternoon, he and I would each go to our individual studies, sit in our easy chairs, and take long afternoon naps.  His exercise routine stopped.  He suffered a lot of pain in his hip which did not allow him to walk far.

In September, after a summer of seeing my husband's health steadily decline, we decided he needed to be checked out by his cardiologist just to see if we could get some answers to solve the mystery as to why he was suffering from this strange malaise.   It was an observant LPN at the cardiologist office that discovered that the calcium levels in his blood were very high.  We were referred back to  our internist.  She seemed to have an idea about what could be going on with him and sent him to the hospital for additional testing that included scans of his neck.  After all the testing was done, we were told that he had hyperparathyroidism.  My husband was then referred to an ear, nose, and throat specialist.  Thankfully, we knew a great ENT, one we trusted and liked.  He reassured us that surgery would most likely solve his problems.

There is a mnemonic that our endocrinologist gave us to describe the hypercalcaemia that comes about because of hyperparathyroidism.  It goes like this:   Stones, bones, groans, thrones, and psychiatric overtones.  When one has hyperparathyroidism, there is a high level of calcium in the blood that causes these symptoms:

• Stones (renal or biliary)
• Bones (bone pain)
• Groans (abdominal pain, nausea and vomiting)
• Thrones (sit on throne - polyuria)
• Psychiatric overtones (Depression 30-40%, anxiety, cognitive dysfunction, insomnia, coma)* 

*Wikipedia

Needless to say, none of these symptoms are fun.  That is why we wanted to hurry up and have surgery to remove the offending parathyroid.  There was just one problem, Jim was on Plavix.  He had to be cleared by his cardiologist and taken off of Plavix before he could have surgery.  So, back to the cardiologist we went.  He said that he could not clear him because he was sticking with protocol and keeping him on the blood thinner at least until the one year date after the stent was placed in his heart.  One cannot argue with the wisdom of this decision even though it seemed that the hyperparathyroidism was filling my husband's daily life with other health challenges that made it so difficult for him.

Early in the morning of the Monday after Thanksgiving, I noticed my husband seemed to have a drooping mouth when I looked at him for the first time that day.  Stunned by this, I had him go through the FAST test.  He could smile, he could raise his arms, his speech was normal, but I decided that I was not convinced that he was not having an incident.  I had him take his blood pressure. It was incredibly high.  Wasting no time, I insisted he let me drive him to the hospital.

At the hospital, after getting an EKG, and after not performing too well on an initial neurological exam, he was admitted to the hospital where he spent two days being evaluated for stroke or TIA.  A stroke was ruled out, but it was determined, as it usually is with TIA, that the results were inconclusive as to whether or not he suffered a TIA.  He was told he was extremely at risk for stroke, and he was watched very carefully for those two days in the hospital.  Needless to say, that was a very scary time.

On December 6, 2012, exactly one year after the heart incident, Jim was able to go off Plavix.  We contemplated having his surgery done on December 20th.  He even scheduled it for that date.  Then, we decided we did not need to have the additional stress that surgery brings just days before Christmas. I'm glad we made this decision, even though Jim continued to not feel well and suffered from high blood pressure and other symptoms.

Finally, last Thursday, January 17, Jim had surgery to remove at least one of the parathyroids that had tumors.  It was unclear whether or not he had tumors on more than one because the scan clearly showed one and hinted at another.  He came through surgery with flying colors.

The next day, it seemed like I had my man back.  He was downstairs at his desk working and talking with friends on the phone with his old personality and sense of humor back in place.  He wanted to get out and go.  We went shopping.  He had a new bounce in his step.

The next day, he was tired from surgery, and he most likely overdid a bit the day before.  Everyday has shown improvement.  Today, he went in and had an epidural/steroid shot in his hip to alleviate the pain in his hip from spinal stenosis.  That procedure also went extremely well.


Despite this bout with bad health and pain, that is hopefully behind him, I have continued to be amazed by this dear man I had the good fortune to marry.  Each day, he has spent time with his beloved dog Boston. Each day, he cares for this dog by feeding him, walking him, continuing to train him, and spending quality time with him just sitting on the back deck admiring the mountain range behind us.   Boston is his good buddy and loyal companion.

Each evening, you will find my dearly beloved sitting in front of the fireplace reading.  He loves  reading those thrillers.  He never fails to remark how much he love our new home and how happy he is that we made this move.

He wants to get back to the gym and start tearing up the elliptical machine again.  He wants to get back to walking every day.  He has started doing Pilates on the reformer.  Yes, my man is back!  I am so grateful.

Thoughts on Beginning a New Year

Mostly, on this day as I begin the new year, I am thinking how fortunate I am to be alive, well, and have a future before me.  In just the past few weeks, two women I knew quite well passed away from cancer.  One, I met when she first took a class from me as she hoped to teach English and English as a Second Language.  She also worked in the International Students Office at Colorado State University - Pueblo when I taught there in 2010.  She reached her goal of getting her English degree.  She was a great friend and support to so many in the International Program.  Cancer took her quickly when she was way too young.  

And then, the mother of one of my daugher Julie's best high school friends lost her battle with ovarian cancer day before yesterday.  She and her family moved to Pueblo when I first married Jim and also moved to Pueblo.  Her daughter and mine became such good friends.  When Julie died, it was SAS, along with other close friends who came to our home and helped us grieve well by remembering Julie.  Their laughter gave me hope.  

Now, this dear girl has lost her beautiful mother.  And, her mother was beautiful.  She was one of the most gracious women I have ever known.  I knew her as SAS's mom and as an educator.  There was something about her that was special.  She was soft spoken, but firm.  She was intelligent, competent, and hardworking.  She loved her students and her teachers.  Her elementary school was a Blue Ribbon School.  Her accomplishments were many, but it was her job as a mother that should have won awards.  She raised two of the most beautiful, thoughtful, kind, and accomplished young women I know.  She died way too young.  My heart breaks for all who worked closely with her and for her family.

I am humbled to think that I have the opportunity to begin a new year.  I do not take this for granted.  I hope to honor these two women  by carrying them in my heart as I endeavor live more fully each day that I am blessed with life and breath. 

I ponder this word as I move forward into 2013:

exordium \ ig-ZAWR-dee-uhm \  

noun

1.  The beginning of anything.2.  The introductory part of an oration, treatise, etc.
The word for today from dictionary.com seemed to strike a cord with me today.  The English teacher in me was awakened.  I thought deeply about just what this word means to me and why I chose it as the topic for a blog post on this the first day of 2013.
Perhaps blog posts that begin the year focusing on a word is a new tradition for me.  Last year, I focused on the word hitherto.(Click here to read that particular post.)  As I have gone back and read the blog post I wrote on January 1, 2012, I was struck by just how appropriate that word was for all the events that would follow throughout the year.  In fact, the very next day after I wrote this post, I fell down the stairs, hit my head, and began one of the great trials of my life as I dealt with the aftereffects of a head injury.  
In this post, I also referred to a scripture in the Bible where Samuel erected a stone to mark a place where the people could remember that up until this time, or hitherto, the Lord had helped them.  He called the stone Ebenezer or Stone of Help.  How many times have I touched that stone of help in the past year?  How many times did I need those reminders that up until this time, or hitherto the Lord has helped us?  I would posit that being able to remember this simple truth that I wrote about on January 1, 2012 is precisely what helped to carry me through the trials, challenges, fears, tears, and anxiety that would grip me through much of the year.
And so, here we are today, January 1, 2013, looking at the beginning of a new year.  I can only look behind me to know the journey I have been on.  I cannot predict the future, but I can walk confidently into it with great anticipation and hope.  That is exactly what I intend to do.
I find this word exordium the perfect word for a new year.  It is a simple word that means the beginning of anything.  Anything is a pronoun that is not specific.  Anything means that there are all kinds of possibilities and opportunities that could present themselves throughout this coming year.  For me personally, it means that I have a true new beginning. 
I am living in a new home, a new neighborhood, a new town, and that means I have lots and lots of new things to explore this year.  Just think, my year will be the year filled with new adventures, meeting new people, eating a new restaurants, and establishing new routines.  Truly, I am blessed in ways I could never imagined one year ago.
The word exordium deserves a closer look.  After all, I am retired English teacher.  If I were teaching this word for today, I would have the students look at its Latin roots.  As a former student of Latin, I would be very interested in the Latin root of this word which is ord which means "to begin."  The prefix -ex  is the part of the word that really intrigues me though because in this case it means "utterly."  Utterly, completely and without qualification,  to begin anything seems to be the best way to walk into a new year.
Beyond the thoughts that come to my mind concerning the first definition of exordium, I also gravitate toward this word and latch on to it because  the word can be applied to the definition of a portion of the construction of a document or a larger piece of work.  The word has expository and literary ties.  The synonyms of exordium include: preamble, prelude, prologue, and preface.  
I've promised myself that this will be the year that I write.  I hope to work more on the discipline of writing daily.  I hope to join a writing group.  I hope to begin work on a memoir, or perhaps a book about my daughter Julie.  I hope to read more blogs and write more blog posts.  
There are new patterns for my life that must be established.  There are benchmarks to meet.  There are goals that I hope to reach.  Dare I list them here?  Yes, I think I shall.  This will serve as a record.
New beginnings for 2013

• Eat a more healthy diet simply because my health demands it.  I am pre-diabetic.  My numbers are not good.  The diet must change.  I like whole fresh foods best.  Why don't I eat them?  This must change.
• Walk more.  I love to walk.  Do what I love.  Get out there and walk!
• Love more.  I love people.  I have isolated myself too much in the last few years.  This year get out there and mix with people again!
• Give more.  Give of myself and my finances to help those in need.  I am blessed with life experiences that can help others.  Serve those who need help!
• Renew my teaching certificate.  I don't want to see it expire.  
• Reconnect with my profession.  I miss the classroom.  Perhaps, I will venture back into teaching a bit this year too.  
• Write, write, write.  I have a story to tell.  Maybe others would like to read it.

Well, that is a beginning.  

Happy New Year to you all!

A Season of Comfort and Joy

Christmas

A Season of Comfort and Joy

This year it seemed that the Christmas Season was truly one that brought me great

comfort 

and

JOY.

The preparation for Christmas seemed a bit overwhelming at first.  We had not even unpacked all our moving boxes when yet Thanksgiving was upon us.  My daughter Amy visited us on Thanksgiving for a few days.  I told her she could not go home until she put my tree up, and so she did, and there it stood, naked, without a thing on it, for nearly three weeks.  

One day, miraculously, it seemed, the Christmas boxes full of decorations that filled the dining room were emptied, places were found for all the beloved Christmas decorations, the tree was decorated, and the house was ready for whatever the season had to offer.  In fact, when the last Christmas decoration box was put away, I realized that for the first time since we had moved in on October 22, all boxes on the top level of the house had been unpacked!  For the first time since we moved in, I saw the dining room floor, better known as the unpacking place, without one box on it.  This was our first Christmas miracle that brought great joy.

A highlight of the season,

an event always sure to bring 

great JOY

and

 much comfort,

was

the East High School Girls of '63 Christmas Party.

The EHS Girls
2012

I love these women!

Sometimes I can't even believe that we are all still together after all these years.

We continue to laugh, and giggle, and make jokes whenever we are together and the years just melt away.

Iris and I, shown together below, comment often on how much this group means to us as the years go by.  Here we are joking about the size of our antlers.

Some of the girls went to grade school together.  I was blessed to meet them all when I was fifteen years old.  When I look into the faces of these beautiful women, I don't see us as older women who have known each other for over fifty years.   I  see my girlhood friends each of whom has the same sparkle in her eyes that was there when we were teenagers.  Some things never change.

High school  friendships that deepen, and grow over the years are priceless.

There are few greater gifts than these rich relationships.

Family time during the holidays also provides great JOY.

I didn't always have a camera with me to capture the wonderful time I've had with family.  Moving to Colorado Springs has meant that I am now back in the same town as my siblings and cousins.  For years, some of the cousins have not lived in Colorado.  In the past year, three of us have moved back to our dear hometown.  My cousin, Diana hosted a wonderful get together at her home just before Christmas.  Having just married her wonderful husband Steve in May, this couple, still honeymooners, were wonderful hosts.  Thanks, Steve for bringing Diana back home to Colorado!

Somehow, I didn't get photos of our first dinner guests in our home.

My brother and his wife came over to share some homemade Snow Chili, cornbread, and great conversation on the Saturday before Christmas.

On Sunday, my daughter and her two children arrived.

Mason is on his way to becoming a great gift wrapper.

I can't talk his mom into wrapping my gifts anymore, but Mason was willing to do so, and he did an awesome job!  

Boston basked in all the love and affection that he received from Hannah.

Hannah, who really, really wants a dog, (so does Mason) spoiled Boston rotten.

He received many hugs, belly rubs, and enjoyed cuddle time with his best girlfriend.

Christmas Eve:  A Time to Celebrate the True Meaning of Christmas

I love this nativity that we purchased a few years ago.
I love that it includes five sheep.
I place the little lamp next to Mary and think of Julie.
I think of her as spending Christmas sitting at the feet of Jesus.

Amy, Mason, and I went to church early on Christmas Eve where we were to meet my sister Carol.
Carol's great surprise and great joy was discovered when she exited her car in the parking lot.
Her son, his wife, and her granddaughter had driven in from California and surprised her in the church parking lot.  We were also so excited to see them home for Christmas.

Sister Carol surrounded by son Erik,
and his wife Nancy and granddaughter Katie
at our home on Christmas Eve

I don't know when I have been to a more deeply moving Christmas Eve service.
Many in the congregation lost homes in the fire this past year.
The service, a beautiful, inspirational candlelight service, reminded us that as was prophesied  in Isaiah

The people who walked in darkness
Have seen a great light 


Having walked through many a dark day throughout the last few years,
I felt great healing as I sat next to some of those I love most with tears running down my face rejoicing in the birth of the One who came to bring Joy to the World.

After church, our unexpected guests came to the house for dinner.  Thankfully, I had more than enough food.  I was a little worried I wouldn't have enough homemade rolls.  I rationed those until everyone got at least one.  Everyone was impressed that I can still bake good, homemade rolls.  (I was a bit surprised they actually turned out.)



As I told my nephew Erik, it is good to know that when one fixes too much food guests are provided to eat it all!

Christmas Eve in our new kitchen!

Sister Carol with her handsome son
and beautiful granddaughter

Christmas Day

It was so much fun to have Amy and the children here for Christmas morning. 

Amy got a styling new hat!  Doesn't she look great?

The kids were so excited over their gifts.

Hannah got her longed for Uggs.  She looks so grown up in them!

After a brunch of more good food, the kids were off to spend the afternoon with their father.

I discoverd Boston in his bed shortly after they left.

Was he worn out, or was he sad to leave them leave?  I think it was a bit of both.

I took some time to practice using my new camera that my wonderful hubby surprised me with.

Isn't it just beautiful?

I love it.

It is my favorite color!

Then we welcomed the next round of guests who stopped by for a short visit.

Jim's daughter Trinette and her family
Christmas 2012

They were followed by the next guests.

Jim's daughter Thia and her family
Christmas 2012

And so, this is how we celebrated the first Christmas in our new home.

It was a white Christmas.

It was sunny and bright.

And it was filled with great JOY.

I'm Thinking of The Mothers...

I hesitate to write anything about the that terrible event that took place on Friday, December 14, in Connecticut.  What can I add to what has already been said?  Does it matter that I want to tell you that my heart is broken over the loss of those beautiful children who died in an unspeakable way?  Does it matter that my heart is broken that members of my profession died caring for students entrusted to their care?

No, my words of shock, heartbreak, disbelief, and sorrow really do not need to be added to all the other words that have been written in the public forum about this tragedy.  And yet, I must write because my voice needs to be raised so that all those who have suffered because of a senseless act of violence will know that they are not alone.

As a mother...
My heart is broken for those mothers who lost a child on day that most likely seemed like any other day.  I know those mothers never dreamed they would not see their children at the end of the day.  I know the shock that comes when you hear the words that we fear most in life, those words that announce that our child is dead.  I know that shock.  I know that heartbreak.  I have suffered hearing that news, but I did not have to hear that my child, an innocent six or seven year old, was brutally murdered.  I did not have to suffer that.  That, I cannot imagine.

If I could speak to these mothers, I would say...
Your heart will heal, but you will have a broken heart the rest of your life.  This broken heart will ache because you will never again look into those eyes that brought you so much joy.  You will never again hold that dear child again, and you will always ache to do so.  I hope that despite this ache, this pain, this sorrow, and this feeling that life just can't go on, you will find the resilience and the hope and courage to heal.

To the mothers of all those who lost a child at Sandy Hook, I would say...
You are now a member of a club none of us ever wanted to join.  All of us who have lost children hold you in our prayers.  We know of your pain.  We share your pain.  You are truly not alone.  You will heal best if you gather all the support around you that you can.  Grieving is a solitary action in many ways, but it is also one that also requires much support from others.

I was told by a doctor that I should not be afraid of letting go of my child for fear of forgetting her.  I don't know if that was good advice or not.  I only know that she lives on in my memory.  I remember clearly her eyes, her hands, her hair, her smell.  I remember her voice.  I remember.  I will not forget, nor will you.  She lives in my heart, the heart that is broken, the heart that is healing.

To all the parents who lost children at Sandy Hook, I would say...
There are no words to convey my sorrow.  There are no words that can begin to convey the pain that I feel for you as I think of you walking down that path that is in front of you.  I know there will be so many legal details for you to deal with.  That will be hard.  I know there are so many questions that will never be answered.  My prayer is that you will be strong, and that you will weep, but that in that weeping you will find healing.

On the first Sunday of December, The Compassionate Friends Worldwide holds a candle lighting ceremony to remember all  children who have died.  This year, I lit a candle for my daughter Julie.  Next year, I will also remember all of the beautiful children from Sandy Hook Elementary.  Please click on the link below to hear a beautiful song of remembrance for all those whose children died too soon.


http://youtu.be/N1TDZWr_j_I

The Mundane - Scrubbing the Floor

My days are consumed with:

unpacking,

organizing,

reorganizing,

moving things from one place to another, 

 trying to find out where an item fits best.

Adding to the stress of moving things around,

unpacking,

rearranging, 

I've thrown in the Christmas boxes

that now 

sit

lined up in dining room

where the other boxes 

all used to

sit.

The Christmas tree is up.

It is naked, except for the lights.

It is a pre-lit tree.

Every piece of furniture needs to be

dusted.

The carpets need to be

vacuumed.

The wood floors need to be 

swept

and

mopped.

It is the laundry room that is catching my attention today.

The laundry room is

the entryway from the garage,

the place where the dog is 

fed, 

and where he messily

laps up

 bowls of water.

The laundry room is

the place where the dog is 

kenneled

when we are not at home.

The laundry room is Boston's room.

The floor is

covered 

with dog hair.

It is

muddy and dusty.

No matter how much I feel 

compelled 

to unpack 

boxes

or 

to decorate

the Christmas tree,

I am more 

compelled 

to scrub 

the laundry room floor.

And so, I 

sweep up

the dog hair that covers the floor.

I then find some floor cleaner, and a rag.

I get on my hands and knees and begin to scrub the dirty floor.

Then, I

remember 

 Julie.

Julie was not yet two years old

 in the memory I have of her as I 

scrub

the floor on my hands and knees.

On that day, now 36 years ago

I was also 

scrubbing

the floor on my hands and knees

Christmas had just come and gone, and

the other children were back in school.

I was very, very

 pregnant

 with my last child, my fifth. 

Jonathan was born on the last day of January that year.

As a mother of four children under the age of ten,

pregnant,

with another soon to be born,

I was

very tired,

but the huge kitchen floor was very dirty.

On my hands and knees, I

scrubbed,

and worked 

my way around the room, 

getting every corner sparkling clean in preparation for the birth that was imminent.

Finally, 

the task of cleaning accomplished,

I headed downstairs to do a load of laundry while the floor dried.

Julie,

while I was downstairs,

went into the newly scrubbed kitchen.

I remember thinking she was way too quiet upstairs.

That was never a good sign.

When I came up the stairs,

my arms full of clean, neatly folded towels and sheets,

I heard pots and pans banging together.

I went to other side of the kitchen island to investigate.

There was

Julie.

She had been very busy.

She had taken all the canned goods out of the lazy Susan and put them on the newly cleaned floor.

She had then taken out all of the pots and pans and placed them by the canned goods.

She had then taken eggs and broken them over the cans of food, and the pots and pans.

My floor was a mess.

Julie was happily playing house.

I wanted to cry.

Today, I 

cried,

as I 

remembered 

that long ago day when I had gotten down on my hands and knees

 to scrub

the kitchen floor.

It was a mundane chore then.

It is still a mundane chore.

It is also a chore filled with treasured memories 

of a tiny,

curly haired,

little imp,

my little pixie,

always so busy,

always so inquisitive,

always so creative,

whom had made a mess on newly cleaned floor so many years ago.

I may have been exhausted,

I may have been overwhelmed,

but those feelings are forgotten.

I remember 

Julie

 while I

scrub

the floor.

Today, the mundane task of 

scrubbing

the floor brought back golden memories. 

I miss you Julie.

I love you.

Love,

Mom

XO 

Gratitude

Mentally flipping back the pages of the calendar to November of 2011, my husband and I were struck by all that has transpired in our lives over the past year.  These twelve months has been some of the most difficult days of our lives.  Amazingly, we both have come through health challenges and a major move.  Today, we are happily enjoying our new home and surroundings in much improved health.  Jim will need some surgery in the next month, but in so many ways, we are so much better.   Somehow, just saying that I am grateful for all this healing and change seems a bit trite.  After all, tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  Shouldn't we all be giving thanks?  Isn't that why we celebrate this holiday?

Gratitude is not something I have ever expressed enough.  I sometimes think I grumble and mumble about things more than I give thanks for things.  I take all of the good things in my life for granted too often.  I don't stop and take stock of all of my many blessings.  During the month of November, I have been writing daily facebook posts about those things for which I am most grateful.  Even that practice has not even scratched the surface when it comes to truly assessing the multitude of  reasons I have to give thanks.

This past year has truly been one of the worst in my life, but it also has been the year when I have most been aware of how blessed I have been.  In December of 2011, my husband had a 95% blockage of his LAD that was discovered before suffered what would have been a massive heart attack that most likely would have been fatal.  (You can read about this by clicking above.)  I don't even have the words to express my gratitude for my own ability to  recognizing his symptoms and get him to the hospital.  Thankfully, the doctors were able to save his life by giving him a stent.  Thankfully, he was able to recover his health quickly.

Not even one month after Jim's heart incident, I fell down our basement stairs and had a brain injury.  This injury was followed by months of dizziness and other symptoms that come from a moderate traumatic brain injury.  I also suffered from a debilitating vestibular disorder, heart arrhythmia, and episodes of a very rapid heart beat.  For over six months, I could not drive at all.  I also suffered from anxiety attacks that nearly crippled my ability to carry on my normal life.  During all of this, I also continued to deal with the grief of losing a daughter to suicide just a year and a half before.   Somehow, today, I can say with extreme gratitude, that I am no longer suffering from these symptoms that were robbing me of the life I had always lived.

Many people, those in the healing profession, family, and friends, have brought both Jim and myself to this current place of health.  I have had several women in my life who are in the healing profession without whom I would not be where I am today.

We have had two wonderful realtors.  One helped us sell our home in Pueblo, and one helped us find our wonderful new home.  We had a multitude of friends and family who helped us move from one home and get settled in another.  When I think of friends, I can't forget about all of you in the blogosphere.  You have been an important part of my journey this past year.

I have a mother who prays for me every single day.  She is 96 years old.  I am blessed beyond measure to still have her in my life.  I have four beautiful children and seven amazing grandchildren.  I am also blessed by three stepchildren and their beautiful children.  My family life is rich and full.

This past year, my awareness of how shallow my gratitude expressiveness has been throughout my life was made painfully clear when I read Ann Voskamp's amazing book, One Thousand Gifts.  This book played an important role in my healing.  As I read and reflected on Ann's beautifully crafted words, I struck by the simple truth that gratitude brings healing.  When one is suffering from scary symptoms that cause one to think that life as one knew it is forever changed, it is difficult to feel gratitude.  When one is broken by grief over the loss of a child, it is even harder to find a reason to give thanks.  Somehow, throughout my journey through grief, I have learned that my capacity for appreciating life has gone deeper, my soul has been expanded.

In the margins of Voskamp's book, on April 29, 2012, I wrote, 23 months today next this passage:  "Love's a deep wound and what is mother without a child and why can't I hold on to now forever and her here and me here and why does time snatch away a heart I don't think mine can beat without?  Why do we all have to grow old?  Why do we have to keep saying good-bye?"  These words were so painful to read 23 months to the day after I lost my beloved Julie.  I too had once stroked my beautiful girl's curls.  Tragically, the last time I did so was after she died.  How could I feel gratitude?  How could I not be bitter?  How could I not stop living when I told her good-bye?  How could I go on when I would never again hear her voice or feel her arm draped around my shoulder?

Many days, I sat in my chair and prayed for healing for my husband, for my children, and for me.  Ann writes, "The only real prayers are the ones mouthed with thankful lips."  Wow!  That struck me hard.   I have this wonderful family in my life.  They are the blessings of my life.  How could I not be thankful to have them to pray for?  Many days I feared what the future would hold for all of us.  Finally,  I chose not to live my life in fear.  I chose not to fear losing again.  Ann also writes, "All fear is but the notion that God's love ends."  Since I know in the very core of my being that His for me love does not end. It never has.  It never will.  I am able to be filled with gratitude.

Expressing gratitude frees the mind to see all that one has in this life.  This is premise of Voskamp's book.  She set out to write down one thousand gifts for which to grateful.  It transformed her life while she kept this list.  She helped to change mine as I read about her lists.  She helped me to learn how to be thankful in the midst of much turmoil and illness.  For that I am very grateful.

So while tomorrow will be filled with the traditional Thanksgiving activities, when I give thanks, it will be with a new sense of gratitude for more than I could ever begin to list. The short list will include much thanks for healing, for new beginnings, for a wonderful supportive husband, and for a family of children and grandchildren all of whom bring me great joy and give rich meaning to my life.