The Dementor

I have met the dementor and I know his name.

It is Asthma.

His friends are known as Fear, Panic and Anxiety. Too bad this is not Hogwarts, there is no Patronus charm and all the chocolate in the world will not make it go away.

We are dealing with asthma at my house. Both of my boys were diagnosed with "exercise induced asthma" in early March. My oldest seems to be dealing with it quite well. My younger however...not so much.

When the asthma journey began with the "exercise induced" label, I thought, "Okay. Not great, but we can deal with this. We can work around it."

It seems everyone has heard of Olympic athletes with asthma. In fact somewhere between 10-20% of Olympic athletes apparently have asthma. Well who doesn't want to be compared to an Olympic athlete?? We could DO this.

As I said, my oldest set off, Albuterol in hand and his breathing during dancing improved. But the youngest...well, it seemed to work for a short time. And then the coughing and the poor coloring returned; sometimes while dancing, sometimes just randomly.

He's been through allergy testing, pulmonary function testing, doctors' visits and even an emergency room visit. At one point he had ten medications going into his small body. I've held him as he's struggled to breathe. He's cried (which seems to exacerbate the situation, but he can't stop) because his chest hurts so badly.

We've been up at all hours, missed anticipated events, struggled with bedtime, struggled with leaving the house, going back to ballet, and worst of all for me--struggled with attending church.

The learning curve for this mommy has been steep. Everyone thinks they know something about asthma--many think it is just about allergies. And sometimes for some people it is. I've had a health care professional (who we know personally) insist it is all "in his head." Really???? That was meant to be helpful?

What I have learned is that asthma is a disease. It may appear to "go away" for awhile, but it is always there lurking. Symptoms are treated, not cured, although there are some things that appear to help improve breathing and stretch out the time between episodes. Some parents have told me that at a certain age their child "outgrew" it. Although I have a friend in his 60s who never did.

Each parent I've talked to (and it's amazing how many are there that I've known for a long time but never knew their child dealt with asthma), read their blogs, or heard anecdotal stories from a "friend of a friend"--each story is different. Triggers are different, flares last different amounts of time, medications are different, intensity is different, timing is different. I'm sure there are a lot of people with similar stories, I just keep running into people with different stories.

We are piecing things together slowly for Boo. What is going to work for him. What is going to get him back to "normal." Whatever normal is. He's been very frustrated because he's been unable to participate in some things that he really wants to because of his asthma. He is working toward "ownership" of his condition and knowledge that will make him more independent.

I am trying to balance my "hovering" personality (I've often been accused of being overprotective) and being too laissez-faire with him. EVERYONE has an opinion of how I should be parenting Boo and what health care choices I should be making for him. So far, only a handful of people are okay with my choices. My doctors seem to be okay with them, so I will go with that.

As we sat together during a particularly bad time, nebulizer going, me holding on to him, wishing it was me and not him, the Harry Potter-dementor image came to me--hence the title. If you are a Harry fan and know about the dementors this video will mean something to you. Sorry I can't put in in the post, maybe it's better I couldn't--it's intense and if you don't allow Harry Potter, please don't watch. As I watched it today, it chilled me.

Sometimes it does seem there won't ever be joy again. But better than charms and chocolate, we have a Savior, who has felt every one of our pains before we did. He will get Boo through this, me through this, our family will come out on the other side. While it would be nice to have a quick fix, my faith tells me God knows best and He will not abandon us.

There have been some awful times in this little family's history. I've cried out to God many times, "Why?!" Often it is not until years later; five, ten, twenty years later that I can see a reason. So we stand in faith until that time.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

Trying to count it all joy,

Julie

Never Forget

In memory of those who died, many prayers and tears still today.

Back on the road...

...today through Thursday evening.

My visiting and responding have been poor. Hopefully I will be able to find a routine for the upcoming weeks.

Maybe...

Miss everyone...

Continued gratefulness for all your thoughts and prayers.

Julie

midwest squall

high level thunder rumbles. mirrors reality on the ground. will it storm soon or be delayed? it is inevitable. the wait is is the hardest.

planting flowers in the thunder and rain was good therapy...

so grateful for the prayers. i am certainly blessed by friends.

Contrasts

I am used to falling asleep & waking up to the sounds of the nearby highway; motorcycles, jarring sirens, hot rods, smooth running cars, garbage trucks. It is a shock to fall asleep to almost total stillness and wake to the birdsongs. I love the country.

The boys have had their first encounter with recently born kittens. Lots of Benedryl, but apparently worth it. Fresh air, come and go in and out as you please. A far cry from having to keep an eye on them constantly, even in our own backyard.

No need for air-conditioning. Lots of breezed to cool the house. What a concept.

Small town, slow traffic...use the turn signal? Why? Everyone knows where you are going. Shop keepers, bank tellers know your name (and maybe your business?). A far cry from the anonymity of city dwelling.

Need to find the camera.

Taking My Eyes Off the Goal

The enemy whispered and I listened and allowed myself to be deceived, distracted.

I've allowed myself to wallow in worldly matters. Matters that will be burnt up like chaff--in as little as five years I will have forgotten perceived hurts and injustices.

I've allowed myself to become over-worried about personal concerns, for myself and for family members; health, emotional, and financial. I've allowed myself to dwell in the past and in grief that should be put aside.

A long time ago someone reminded me about other worries, "It is what it is." I tell my children often, "Don't borrow trouble from tomorrow. Just deal with today." Maybe I should go with that. Hmmmm...

"DIFFICULT PRESENT MOMENTS

When the Present Moment comes and gives me something very difficult to bear, I say, "This is the will of God."

Think of when Pilate told the Lord, "Don't you know I have the power to crucify you and the power to release you?" And Jesus said, "No, you would not have power over me if it had not been given to you from above" (John 19:10-11). Even at that awesome, unjust moment, Jesus saw the Father's Will and accepted it. In our daily lives we should to. "--Mother Angelica from Little Book, of Life Lessons and Everyday Spirituality

Photo courtesy of Public Domain Pictures/Petr Kratochvil

Sin Is Expensive

(This is not something many children are ready for. You might want to watch it later if your children are with you.)

Good Friday

The joy comes in the morning, and that is true.

But I never want to forget:

What salvation cost.

The price Love paid.

The gift is free with no strings.

May your Good Friday be filled with the knowledge that you are loved beyond reason.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig...

Sunday night I kept feeling like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home..." Praying that if I'd click my heels I'd wake up and it would all have been a dream.

Unfortunately it wasn't.

But I was so blessed by your prayers. Thank you ladies, so very much. My heart was so touched. And it really helped me survive.

Until the vehicle incident it wasn't a bad weekend. Somewhat stressful, but not anything surprising. We celebrated my youngest son's birthday with family (the "real day" was last week). This weekend was also the one year anniversary of my mother's death.

I've been trying not to let the two events meet in my son's mind. When he is older I don't think he will have an issue. Grandma did not die on his birthday--but mighty close.

The van thing...just was one straw too many on this camel's back. And it was...ahem...rather pricey. Over $500 pricey.

But, if you remember back a bit I talked about us not moving. Thankfully that choice and others we've made (and GOD!!) have allowed us to have money set aside so we could cover the repair. It wasn't something we wanted to do. But I felt so blessed that we were able to do so.

The time the boys and I got to spend with my father was good. We spent time with my sister and her children. We visited our second zoo in eight days.

And so now I am home. Stiff from the drive. But so ready just to have my little idiosyncratic life back. I will make an attempt to catch up on my blogging over the next few days.

Be it ever so humble...











Thanks again for your sweet prayers.

Off in search of my pillow...

Julie

Grains of Gratitude

How does life go on after a loss? I'm not sure but it does. And it is by God's mercies that we continue to go along with it.

There are events which the pain fades mostly away. Those are the events that I try to remind myself and others won't be more than a "blip" on the radar five years from now. Six years ago we were in the process of losing our house--today it is not the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning. There are days I don't think of it at all. Time and space and much love and many blessings have filled the gap of that thing. And to be honest, I lost a house, not a home and the difference between the two is HUGE.

Then there are losses that involve people. I don't think those holes are ever completely filled. But we somehow manage to go on. And with time and God's grace those losses aren't always the first thing we think about when we get up in the morning. But there are always little points in the day when we realize things won't be the same again.

But that doesn't mean we live without joy. God is too good and even in our personal times of trouble and even watching the evil that invades this earth we need to cling to Him and know that His hand is over all and heaven waits for us.

This week I just want to say I am grateful for love; for His unending, unboundless love and also for the love of those who make my life a joy.

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." John 13:34-35

I am grateful for you! Spread some love this week!

Brady's Bunch is where Grains of Gratitude originated.

Beloved

“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am meek and humble of heart;
and you will find rest for yourselves.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” Matthew 11:25-30

This morning at Mass during the sermon I was reminded that I was a child of the King of Kings. This morning I was reminded even though a sinner saved by Grace, I am a beloved daughter of the LORD. No matter what Satan says, no matter what anyone else think, no matter if I am poor or rich, famous or insignificant in the eyes of the world, no matter—I am beloved.

****************************************

The county fair was one of my mother’s favorite things. I’m not sure why, but she loved the whole thing and wanted to make sure we enjoyed it too.

Thirteen years ago my husband and I moved near my parents. Two years later we had our first son, Roo. Boo followed two and a half years later. Within eight months of that we moved nine hours away from my parents and, with one exception; we’ve not been nearby since then. So for the last six years I brought the boys to my parents’ house for a long visit in the summer.

My mother always took vacation time and the first four of those years created “Camp Gramarama” that included water balloon fights, Dairy Queen trips, a zoo visit, the county fair parade, and subsequent visits to the fair. Somewhere in there my parents got a pop-up camper and parked it next to the cornfield. It became “The Camp Clubhouse.” The adults rotated sleeping in it with the kids.

The fifth year my mom had every intention of doing all of that and made good on most of it, but the chemo was catching up and my sister and I did our best to fill in the gaps. I don’t know who we were trying to do it for, her or the children. Maybe both. It was still a good “Camp.”

Last year, my mom, three years into chemo, spent the first part of the week resting/sleeping; rallying to try to get to see my niece exhibit her cat. Mom made it to the fairgrounds. My dad had obtained permission to use their golf cart to drive her up to the exhibition tent, but even sitting was too difficult and he and I took her home before the show started. She did hear the show (the judge comments during the judging) over the cell phone—one of those “how did we manage before?” moments. She got to hear my niece interviewed on the radio also. A day later she was in the local hospital. She was then moved to a university research hospital. She spent more time the next six weeks in the hospital than at home. And then she really got to go HOME.

*********************************

I’ve debated a lot lately about my blog. I’m trying to remember what made me think I could keep up with one. I’ve never been a good journal-er. I had another crisis last year about the same time—actually a couple weeks earlier. But I also had to deal with some intense personalities along with my ventures into the reality of the world outside the walls of my home. And I was dealing with the reality that my mom wasn’t going to be around much longer

This time, between the last month of going against my nature—having to operate as if I were a morning person, having to be out of my home four to seven hours a day; trying to wade through the hormonal upheavals of peri-menopause, making important decisions about our future with my husband and then getting ready to be gone for five days, when what I want to do is be home, I questioned whether there was any point in keeping it open.

And then I started going through my archives.

Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves—or blogs, as the case may be. They give you lots of details on what’s going on. I’m not often one to do so. I try to share about me without sharing too much about others who might not want to be blogged about. I’ve noticed there are others who blog this way too—they blog, but there’s more going on than what is in the post.

Both ways are good. But I wondered if my style of blogging would really help me look back.

It did.

Even though a reader might not get all the details, one post, sometimes one sentence is enough to bring back a flood of memories for me.

Last year we left for my parents’ and the fair almost immediately after Summer Intensives. This year blessedly, I gave myself the weekend to recuperate a little. But it still doesn’t feel like enough. Next year—I don’t see us going for this return to the county fair. I guess I did it for the children—my niece and nephew, as much as for my boys. Maybe I did it most for my mom. We’ve had a trying year and I didn’t feel right changing what’s become a tradition for us. But although I like a day at the fair, I’m not a die-hard fair go-er. But things are changing, things that the children can’t see yet. I’m sure they feel it, but the grown-ups get to make the decisions and that is hopefully because we have more facts.

Hopefully.

Whatever the case may be I think I’ve decided to keep my blog and continue posting. Maybe it’s time to get a private journal too. I definitely think I may need to rearrange some priorities. Usually when someone (or me) has a crisis it is a signal that our approach to life isn’t where it should be. I need to work on that. I've made some really good and significant changes this year--but I think I need to make some more.

The supportive comments and prayers and words of encouragement have meant so much. Bless each of you. I will be on the road, but hopefully have time to get back to visiting and leaving comments and returning e-mails. Thanks for being so patient with me.

Remember that you, too are BELOVED.

Always in HIM,

Julie

One of my Favorite Mommies...

...has left this earth.

My condolences to the Keane family. The Family Circus is a cartoon I've loved since I could read.

"I Thought You Would’ve Gotten Past that by Now"

There are still days I struggle with baggage over my mother’s death. There was much left undone, unsaid, unacknowledged. Because that was how she wanted it. Her passing left behind things that had been hidden or glossed over for many, many years. Don’t get me wrong. She was a great lady who made a difference in many lives. But she (as are we) was human.

Sometimes I think I should have one big blow-out melt-down and be done with it. That that would wipe the slate clean and I could move on. The converse thought is that if I allow the melt-down I might never climb out of the pit.

One of my IRL friends has shared that she was surprised I was still not “over” my mother’s death. I guess it is coming up on seven months now. Mom had been sick for over three years and in this friend’s opinion I should be moving forward. As in done with it.

The problem with losing a loved one (or having any other large life trauma, like divorce, major health issue or job loss) is that it is your sorrow and not someone else’s. Life does march on and we have to keep marching or get left far behind. Our society we doesn’t dwell on the past much and our own lives are so complicated it is hard to remember the thorns someone else is trying to remove from their heart. We’re past it, we aren’t thinking about it, so it comes as a surprise that our (possibly close) friend is still struggling. We’re encouraged as a society to put a good face on it and this too shall pass.

My friend surprised me with her attitude because she is someone who others turn to for advice. But she is not a Christian and would never consider Christian wisdom a viable thought when addressing needs. So I suppose that plays into it. And since I’ve known her for over a third of my life and it’s not really a new thing about her, I’m surprised I’m surprised. But it caught me off guard. She’s a good person with some good qualities, but with very defined and rigid ideas of how things should be.

I think I am moving forward, but apparently not at the pace my friend would like. I have some really good “normal” days. And then I have some others. It’s only been in the last month or so I was able to start sorting photos to scan and many items my father gave me were left in boxes until I could face them. I tried, probably to early, to address some of this before and just wasn’t able. But with time and faith and a loving God time will move on and I will too.

Sin is Expensive

(This is not something my children are ready for. You might want to watch it later if your children are with you.)

Good Friday

The joy comes in the morning, and that is true.

But I never want to forget:




What salvation cost.

The price Love paid.

The gift is free with no strings.

Black Friday: A Look Back

I’ve never been a “Black Friday” fan, I worked at least twelve years in some form of retail and saw more pushing, shoving and herding of hordes than anyone should have to. I remember the last Black Friday I was working. I knew I would be leaving retail after the first of the year. I was sooooooo excited. I was probably merrier then, than all the previous Day after Thanksgivings before.

After I did leave retail my mother and I did start a little tradition of our own on the day following Thanksgiving. For almost fifteen years (we missed one or two) we would get up early and drive to two very tiny towns (populations less than 500, I suppose) near their home. It was all very sweet and the pace was as slow as we liked. The crowds were in the malls at the city and we got the fresh air and cozy atmosphere. Both towns were decorated simply and in an old-fashioned manner.

The first town is an antiquing town. The main street has stores filled with antiques and craft shops. Sometimes we would start at the bakery with a pastry. And often we would warm up at a small coffee and tea shop about halfway through our shopping. There was a store with one floor devoted entirely to Christmas. That was mandatory to visit. Also a must stop shop was the Victorian shop—so small it could fit into my living room, but packed with delicate and beautiful ornaments, tantalizing scents and peaceful music. Every store was filled with holiday cheer and even though it was, technically, a retail environment it was just different and special.

The second town is filled with many Danish descendants. We would head first to the local craft fair. My mother worked with the public for a long time and knew so many people. She would take at least twice my time in getting through the stalls & booths because she would stop and talk to everyone she knew. And she knew everyone. Then we would go to several other shops, including the one in the windmill and finally straggle toward home. If we had any energy left we might stop at the town square in my parents’ hometown to visit three shops we were particularly fond of.

Then I would spend most of the weekend decorating her house. And there were lots of things that followed just because “that’s how we did things.”

Because this is our first holiday without my mother, and for a few reasons, this year isn’t going to be like that. Maybe some year in the future I will retrace our steps alone or with one of the children (none of whom seem to have inherited the “browsing gene”). Maybe I will find something nearer my home for the day after Thanksgiving.

Which brings me back to my search…for ways to bless our families during the holidays. Please join me and share your ways to make the holidays really holy days.

What was your “Black Friday” like today?

Grains of Gratitude

What a difference a week makes.

To quote another cliché, life changes in a blink of an eye. One breath you have both feet on earth and the next breath can be drawn on the other side, hopefully in heaven, meeting the LORD.

My mother changed her address this week from a shell on earth to glory in heaven. I am grateful for the life she led and I hope I can learn from her example. After over three years of fighting with colon cancer her body had fought enough. Doctors and family agreed that there were no more avenues to try.

I received a call Wednesday afternoon and was very thankful that my bags were left packed from the previous weekend. Thursday in the late afternoon, I held her hand while she took her last breath here and her first in the light of the LORD. For that I am forever grateful.

My father showed such love and devotion and was with her for the last weeks almost without respite. He taught our family about faithfulness and commitment. How can I be anything but grateful.

My sister has been a support to me through all of this. We’ve gone from adult children to adults. Preparing funeral arrangements and such has always been our mother’s area. She and her sister always took care of “those things.” She has been by my side through this and kept me focused on what needs accomplished and we’ve even managed to laugh at good memories.

My children have been so precious and free with their love this week. They have given me something to hold on to when I really didn’t want to do much other than crawl in bed. But who can resist such sweet love? My Roo chose to say goodbye to Grandma in ICU and gave her a kiss and told her he loved her. Though my heart broke, I knew it was a gift for all of us.

My dear husband has been such a rock for me. It is with him that I am “real.” I know he knows me and there is no pretending. I can say anything. What a blessing he has been. He is giving my father a gift of playing for my mom’s funeral.

Pastor Al and his wife Ella have once again blessed our family. They are family. Without their support and guidance and comfort we would have been adrift on our little raft this week.

The ICU staff, medical professionals, doctors and all the unexpected “angels” at the hospital made my mother more comfortable, tried to do their utmost to relieve her of her ailments, and at the same time were so compassionate to us. There is no way of repaying them.

I cannot say enough about the friends and family members who have been blessing us this week with prayer, food, fellowship and hugs. To go through life alone, without the aid and blessing of people such as these would be ungrateful.

For all these and so much more, I am grateful.

Grains of Gratitude has been a gift that was started by Christine at Brady’s Bunch. When I started participating I had no idea what an outlet and blessing it would be to stop each week and remember to count my blessings. I am grateful for this too.

Hug your family today for me.

Peace, joy and comfort for the journey for this week.

Goodbye Old Man, We Will Miss You

Yesterday, in the midst of waiting for news about my mother, we had to make the choice to put down our “Old Man” cat, also known as Tucker. Tucker was in his early to mid-twenties and had been a part of my life longer than my husband.

Up until Friday he was still getting up early every morning to greet my husband over coffee and meow about the current events. At one time Tuck was a large (near twenty pound) cat, but the last few years have seen him thin down quite a bit. Over the weekend we noticed he wasn’t up with the dawn and in fact needed called to be roused. Sunday night found him unable to navigate stairs and his meower was noticeably quieter. By Monday morning there was nothing but a squeak and two steps was about all his back legs were good for.

My sweet husband came home from work, made the vet call, and gave the boys a little time to say goodbye to their beloved grey tiger. Many tears were shed and I’m not sure that my sweetheart didn’t shed the most. This from a man who supposedly didn’t want cats. He’s missing his coffee buddy quite a bit already.

For my part, I’m missing a friend of near sixteen years. He came to me as an adult, he was somewhere between the age of seven and ten. I’m looking for someone to head butt me and track me down to the kitchen in case there is a can of tuna to be opened. His animal buddies, Libby and Sid are a little confused at his absence.

This cat somehow became “my mother’s cat.” When she would visit, he would wait for her to find a seat, thereby creating a lap, proceed to insinuate himself in her arms and stay there for as long as he could. He would position himself so he could gaze adoringly at her and meow and “talk” to her, telling her, surely, of his abused life with me and all insults, real and imaginary he was forced to endure. She of course would tell him how wonderful he was. I swear he knew when I talked to her on the phone. He would shove his way onto my lap and head-butt the phone until I told her he was there.

There is a furry hole around here, I’m telling you.

For those sweet friends who’ve commented or e-mailed about my mom, I am still waiting on any real “news.” She was transferred late yesterday from the local hospital to the university hospital in a nearby city. She has been unable to eat and has at least one episode of extremely low blood pressure with rapid pulse. She’s quite unhappy about all the tubes she’s wearing, among other things. We were going to visit today, but my sister and father think waiting one more day might be better. So the boys and I will leave early tomorrow and stay at least one night.

I plan on blogging as I am able, while to some it may seem insensitive, but as some may recognize it is really good therapy for me.

Blessings,
Julie

Hold Me Jesus

Hold Me Jesus
by Rich Mullins

Well, sometimes my life
Just don't make sense at all
When the mountains look so big
And my faith just seems so small

CHORUS:
So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

And I wake up in the night and feel the dark
It's so hot inside my soul
I swear there must be blisters on my heart

CHORUS

Surrender don't come natural to me
I'd rather fight You for something I don't really want
Than to take what You give that I need
And I've beat my head against so many walls
Now I'm falling down, I'm falling on my knees

And this Salvation Army band
Is playing this hymn
And Your grace rings out so deep
It makes my resistance seem so thin

CHORUS

You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

Feeling Like a Fraud

I think the blog title and the moniker are just not very accurate right now and I am feeling pretty bad about that. Apparently I am putting on the pretense in the real world but it feels very dry and is starting to crack. But if there are choices they don’t seem very obvious other than the one to just keep going, putting one foot ahead and following with the other.

We’ve hit Day 29 of DCG being without a job. And what is even more frustrating is that the phone is not ringing, the e-mails are not coming, all is quiet, with the exception of the interview he had Tuesday. It was a second interview with a great company, and I know it is only Thursday…but…we don’t wait well. And it has never. Been. This. Quiet. Before. Never.

I am beginning to think that I misplaced the formula for getting my prayers heard. And then I realize what that sounds like. Like there are magic words with which God can be persuaded to move. Well we know that isn’t true. I am always very leery of those who would tell you to pray a certain prayer and pray in a certain manner and things will go your way. Sounds a little like dancing near that edge of superstition.

My grandma used to pray like that. Pray to St. Theresa or pray to St. Joseph or…I don’t remember the patron saint of hopeless cases, but we prayed a lot to him when I was growing up. And you said a certain number of prayers in a certain order. I now understand about praying to the saints, but we are talking about giving them glory that should go to God. Ascribing to them His power type prayer.

My mother’s friends pray that way, only without the saints involved: if you say it and believe it, God hears it therefore it is true. My mom has cancer. And that is a story for another time. But can you see where that is going? Anyway…those are the kind of prayers that sound good. I just don’t think they are where I should be right now.

Maybe the sackcloth and ashes of Job and the Hebrew people aren’t such a bad idea. I am extremely tired of the “I’m fine” routine. We will be fine; it is fine… God has everything under control… It will work out for good. I come by the “internalization gene” naturally the “Make a Good Face for the World' club was founded by my mother.

I am trying to keep the days normal for the boys and a structure and cheerful face for my guy and I don’t want to burden my friends, because after awhile people get bored of hearing about things. I don’t want to bore them now, because I keep feeling like it might be worse later—and I don’t want them bored before then.

How much longer can I hold on?

Could someone tell me what it is I am supposed to do right now? I think I know the answer and it is, “Hold on.”

I am alternating between fury of having to go through this (again—close to five years ago we lost almost everything, including our home, during that bleak time of IT downsizing and outsourcing ) to being thankful for what I do have. I don’t fear my child will not make it through the night. My husband is my friend and we can cling to each other. I have food and a roof and comfort that many, even in this country do not. I have things I could choose to sell to keep the pantry stocked a little longer. I am rich beyond measure. Why should I expect more? I praise that my life is mine and I am not bearing someone else’s sorrows. I don’t walk my path well…but it seems familiar and while a bit murky and foggy I can still see it.

And so I wait. And hold on.


Psalm 52:8-9

8 But I am like an olive tree
flourishing in the house of God;
I trust in God's unfailing love
for ever and ever.

9 I will praise you forever for what you have done;
in your name I will hope, for your name is good.
I will praise you in the presence of your saints.


By Ka­tha­ri­na von Schle­gel
translated from the German byJane Borth­wick
Music: Finlandia by Jean Sibelius, 1899

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

Be still, my soul: begin the song of praise
On earth, believing, to Thy Lord on high;
Acknowledge Him in all thy words and ways,
So shall He view thee with a well pleased eye.
Be still, my soul: the Sun of life divine
Through passing clouds shall but more brightly shine.

I Saw Big Don

Zephaniah 3:17 The LORD thy God in the midst of thee is mighty; He will save, He will rejoice over thee with joy; He will rest in His love, He will joy over thee with singing.


Running through Wal-Mart trying to remember the odd things on my list I came to a standstill and then had to hurry down the next empty aisle to wipe away the tears because I saw a man who reminded me of Big Don. I don’t see Elaine in many places or many faces, but I have seen Don on occasion and it takes my breath away. Well actually I have seen men who resembled Big Don. You see, Big Don and Elaine have passed away and it’s been awhile.

We lost Don a little over four years ago to pancreatic cancer. It was hard and fast and was unbelievable. And then less than a year later Elaine had a stroke and she was gone within the year.

I miss them still.

Don was a mountain of a man up until the cancer ate away at him. He could hold one child in each arm, high above the crowd and I never saw a child unhappy there. He was a Pied Piper with children, they would flock to him and he held so many fussy babies during church services, I don’t think there is a count to how many. He would stop and help someone in need, he gave his time, his money, his love and his favorite thing to share was his faith. He was a simple man, Elaine told me once he needed to get up by five to get on the road to work before six. But Don got up at four so he could spend an hour with the LORD and read his Bible…he didn’t want to rush through it. He didn’t think he read all that well and he wanted to get each word. Each word. And I don’t doubt that he did.

Where Don was a teddy bear, Elaine was more of a prickly pear…with a soft, soft inside. She was a good hostess in their modest home. I never felt nervous as a mother of young children when I would have the boys to visit there. She had a cookie and a Pepsi or something she had made. There was never a stranger there. She was a rock through all of Don’s illness and then when she was ill, I wondered who would be her rock. She missed him and she longed for home, the real home, and even when she was wheelchair bound and had difficulty with everything, she took the time to write out, “God is good.” That was her message until the day she died.

Don and Elaine were a second set of parents to my DCG, they were an extra set of grandparents to my sons. They took the boys and I to the boys' first dinosaur museum and got them a private guided tour—well, okay, their son worked there. But still…that was one of the most beautiful days I can remember. When DCG was working nine hours away they came and took the boys and I out to dinner—I was without a car, they took me to church and made sure I didn’t feel alone.

The fanciest thing they owned was a Gold Wing motorcycle and they determined to use it only to spread God’s Word. They were Christian Motorcycle Association members. They traveled across the state to carry the Message.

Elaine had an e-mail ministry, and a card sending ministry and she cared for people in need. If you knew her very well you knew she was very insecure about herself. But in truth she was a smart lady and a wonderful role model of a wife and mother.

Don was never afraid to hug someone or shed a tear when moved by the LORD. He was one of the first men I ever saw go forward to the altar to pray. When Don hugged you, you knew you were hugged.

The number of people they touched isn’t able to be measured and their funerals were like none I had ever been too.

I am sure they are home and they are happy, but down here in the worry of the world, they are often missed.


Elaine’s Cabbage Salad
(This was the salad she brought to every potluck at church, I think.)

1 3-oz pkg chicken ramen noodles
6 c shredded cabbage (bok choy works well)
4 green onions
½ c toasted sunflower seeds
½ c sliced almonds
2 Tablespoons butter or margarine
Tablespoon sugar

Crush ramen noodles and combine w/sunflower seeds and almonds. In a skillet add butter, sugar and ramen and seeds and nuts, brown lightly. Chop cabbage and green onions add noodle mixture and toss. Whisk dressing ingredients and pour over vegetable and ramen mixture and toss again.

Dressing:
½ c vegetable oil
3 Tablespoons vinegar
2 Tablespoons sugar
½ tsp salt
½ tsp pepper
1pkg seasoning packet from ramen noodles