crazy, happy, hard

Here's what I've been doing: I'm spending the afternoon on our back porch, working on a magazine article. After our brutal winter, the sun and wind and daffodils under the pines are like heaven.

At this moment my life is crazy, happy and hard. So much has happened since Thanksgiving. And I thank HIM, the God of universe for all of it, hard as it is to walk with the hard stuff.

We learned that we get our tongue-in-cheek hope for another baby in 2015. (Four generations of us born in '5' years) And we get TWO, due five days apart in early June! I think they're both boys. We'll see when they come because neither mom is finding out her baby's gender. Love, love that!

Bills' mom Elizabeth, 98, had a nasty fall on Christmas day, another hospital visit on my birthday in early January, and entered Hospice care. We thought we'd lose her within weeks but she rallied and has had ups and downs since then but seems stable. It's an emotional and physical journey for those who love her and particularly Bill and his brother Bob, who visit her every day. Which goes to show, it is God who numbers our days. Not doctors, not hospice. I invite you to pray for Elizabeth's comfort and peace.

I've had a fun little part-time job for about 18 months ... I'm a mother's helper to a family with six children ages 3-17 and their mother Noelle homeschools every one of them. Some think I'm crazy, but my time there is a blessing to me, especially in the midst of Elizabeth's decline. In their home is life and love and NOISE and music (lots of piano) and laughter and I love it. It's a little trip back in time.

In February our oldest son, David, proposed to his girlfriend Chelsea. (last post) And since they live two hours apart and are just crazy about each other, it won't be a long engagement. In July we will trek to Florida for their wedding! The other boys' weddings were local, so this is different in many ways. Lots of texts, phone calls, questions and answers, and really, getting to know Chelsea better at a distance. I couldn't be more blessed by my daughters-in-love!

Our Michigan cabin is back on the market and we are talking more and more about moving south when the time seems right. It's been a decision long in the making and ya know how when you make a decision you just want to get on with it? I battle impatience and resting in God's timing. But faith is trusting God even when we don't see what we want, when we want it.

And that is what I pursue and rest in, day after day.

the hard and the holy

Hard stuff has been going on with us but I haven't written about it because, well,

it isn't just my stuff. Not like with my dad.

Bill's mother Elizabeth has been under Hospice care at her assisted living facility

since new year's. She'd been in obvious decline for many months but

the past month, and this week in particular, she has declined dramatically.

 

Elizabeth is being kept as comfortable as possible; her care is excellent.

Many of us are in and out checking on her;

Bill and his brother split the day to be with her: they are so attentive.

But today was very hard. 

Those bright blue eyes tried to stay open and focus. 

She tried to talk but the medication has slowed her speech.

When I held her hand, her grip was firm.

These are the hard but holy moments.

It is hard to see a person dying. God never intended death for us.

But there is stunning holiness in witnessing the end

of an amazing 98-year life.

 

 

 

When it comes time for you to lose a loved one,

I hope you can sense the holiness in the hard moments.

It is there.

 

We covet prayers for Elizabeth's comfort and her homecoming.

 

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

2 Timothy 4:7

crossing paths

Dad, September 2011

My dad was the person who knew me longest in life, nearly 59 years: more than twice as long as my mother. While I'm not sure he knew me the best of anyone, it's possible he did, more than I realize. Even when years and distance separate you from your child, don't you know him well? I know what will make my children laugh, what touches them, what they like to do, and how they might answer a question.

But as dementia claimed Dad's mind like an enveloping fog, I was incredibly saddened that he became more and more distant. Dementia is cruelly possessive, it claims a victim as its own. In the last year of his life Dad didn't ask about my family; not my husband, children or grandchildren. He slipped from us bit by bit. The many photos we sent filled his bulletin board and on occasion would catch his attention. But in the last month he asked Lisa, his attendant, to take them down. "I'm going to Memphis," he told her. Memphis is where he was buried.

Ethan Henry, 2 months old

I believe God's declaration, you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb (Psalm 139:13) and I wonder if and how the souls of babies awaiting birth are hanging around heaven. When I first met my grandson Ethan, it fascinated me that he loved to put his head way back and stare straight up. Jill and I took the children on a short walk and Ethan gazed up at the sky the whole time, as if looking for something. It made me wonder. Although Ethan was born five days before Dad's death, did they somehow meet? Whose paths cross in heaven, and when?

I do wonder, but God reminds me in the Bible that He has things well in hand. And thankfully, this world isn't all there is.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:18