So I was thinking I should write what I normally do in a day, for anyone who is interested. Maybe no one is, but for posterity, allow me to entertain myself. It changes day to day, as all life does, but this is generally my daily schedule.
When I wake up, which is around 10:00, I take my morning pills and proceed to the den. Now before anyone gasps at the thought of waking up so late, please keep in mind that not only do I go to bed late, I also have fibromyalsia and one of the many side effects of this disorder is fatigue. I am always tired, no matter what time I go to bed or what time I wake up. It's just the nature of the disorder, which my fellow-fibro friends will attest to. In any event, now that I am not working, it helps incredibly to get more sleep and is actually very therapeutic.
Ok, now that I have defended myself, the next thing I do is go into the den where my dad is sleeping in his chair. Actually, we do almost everything in the den. We eat, watch tv and dad sleeps in his chair and has been for over 20 years, in the den. I usually wake him up by saying, "Hi Dad." He then wakes up and says, "Hi Sis." I ask him if he has had breakfast yet and he usually tells me he hasn't. So I prepare his breakfast of a toasted bagel or English muffin, juice and a slice of honeydew melon. He always eats this. If he gets hungry before I get up, he'll nosh (Yiddish for snack on) on cookies or donuts or whatever we have in the house. Usually the stuff my mom thoroughly disapproves of, and the stuff we have to get out of the house before she gets home. My dad has had his fun and now it's almost over. I have a bagel and coffee with my dad and he turns on the Military Channel as we eat. This morning we learned about the 10 most powerful weapons. Whatever.
After breakfast, I get on my laptop and dad kicks back in his chair and continues watching TV. "In the Heat of the Night" comes on the Chicago station WGN around noon and he always watches that. I never watched it when it was actually on TV, but now I'm drawn back to the 80's when he has it on. He will usually fall asleep again during this time and when I'm done on my laptop, I go in the pool. I usually stay in for an hour and a half or so. I pray and think about what in the world I'm going to make for supper. I hate having to think that up every day. It's torture for someone who hasn't really cooked for years. When I'm done swimming, or floating really, I come in and get dressed. Dad is now either still sleeping or in his office on the computer. If I have time, I get back on my computer - if not, I get ready to go see my mom.
We try to go see mom around 4:00 and usually stay until around 5:30 or 6. It's usually pretty boring just sitting there looking at each other. Neither of them can hear very well, so I am usually shouting, even though there's not a lot to talk about. It's a good thing my mom's roommate is almost deaf. We talk about the weather, the mail, the grandkids, the long walk to her room; every day it's the same thing. Everything my dad says, she gets annoyed at, so I try to do most of the talking. I haven't talked to her yet about her attitude, but I intend to. Probably when she gets home. My dad will say, "Sis, we'll leave at 5:30," (when it's 5:15) just to warn everyone in advance, I guess. My mom looks almost relieved when we leave. It's an awkward position to be in to having to be forced to talk to one another. It's not like a natural conversation you would have at home -- you know it's only for a certain time and so you feel forced to come up with something to say. I usually rack my brain trying to figure out what else to say, and if that doesn't work, I resort to playing a game on my phone.
After our visit, we go home and I make dinner (lunch is usually skipped and provided by noshing in the afternoon). Last night I made chicken pot pie which my dad really liked. I was able to cut the rest of it into 4 big pieces and put them in containers and freeze them for my dad when I go to Madison. I'll be gone a week and I want him to be able to just pop the container into the microwave for his meal. Whatever it is that I make, we then sit down to dinner with the news and stock market reports on the Public Broadcasting station. Everyone on this station talks in a monotone voice and so it is very boring to listen to. During dinner, everything I say or ask my dad, I usually have to say twice, so I try to shout it out loud the first time.
After dinner, I do the dishes and clean up the kitchen. When everything is done, I sit down with my laptop and try to work on it with the TV blaring. I keep asking my dad to turn it down, but he's getting so hard of hearing that he has to keep it up loud. I usually wait until he turns the TV off and goes into his office to work on my laptop, because then I have peace and quiet. But then it usually gets pretty late before I go to bed, waiting for him to leave. Last night, he slept the whole time the TV was on after dinner and if I would have turned it off, he would have woke up immediately. I did change the channel to the History Channel and watched something about the Third Reich. I have a weird fascination with Nazi Germany and even though I cringe while I watch it, I just can never understand how people could be so cruel. After awhile, I went to bed and left the TV on because he was still sleeping.
After praying and reading my Bible, I play Words with Friends on my phone until I can't keep my eyes open any longer. Last night, I took some muscle relaxers with my regular drugs because my whole body was in so much pain - another effect from Fibromyalsia - I just couldn't get comfortable. I dreamt last night/this morning that I was hugging my grandkids and I had a big smile on my face. The biggest sacrifice I made by coming here is that I am so far from my grandchildren. But I know this is God's will, and I know He will make up the difference.
So there you have it. My life in a nutshell, for now. When my mom comes home, it will be stepped up a few notches. Dad and I won't be able to enjoy our sweets and treats, and I figure that would be a good time to go on, yes, another diet. I will be helping her in and out of the bed, getting dressed, things like that. Hopefully there will be a home health nurse coming in and bathing her. Just sayin'. Oh, and I will probably have to straighten out all the cupboards because I hate putting pots and pans away and they're all just shoved in there. That will not be acceptable to her.
But until then, I have ice cream bars in the freezer and M&M's on the table that we both munch on. The "food police" will be home soon enough and I'll have to resort back to stashing candy in my room somewhere. I'll have to hide it well, because I'm sure Eunice will slowly creep into my room just to see "what's going on in there." Kind of reminds me of when I would hide weed in my underwear drawer when I was younger. I just won't hide chocolate - that would melt and be a real mess...
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Forgiveness
There was a person once who hurt me very much, for a long time, and I became very bitter toward him, and eventually that turned into hate. I had so much hate toward him, that I probably could have killed him if he hurt me any more. I knew my feelings were detrimental to my self and my soul, and I prayed and asked God to help me forgive this person over and over again for years. I still remember the day I finally forgave him. There was no fanfare, no shouting, just the quiet, still voice of God leading me and I suddenly realized that I no longer hated him. I realized that all the hate and bitterness finally left and it felt like a million pounds was lifted off of me. Years later, the forgiveness actually turned into love and that was even more of a miracle. I believe true forgiveness is a miracle - it's not something we have the ability to do on our own. We need God's spirit to help us, and that, to me, is a miracle.
Aside from Jesus dying on the cross for us and forgiving our sins, which is truly the ultimate act of forgiveness, I experienced a much more personal experience first-hand, of what love and forgiveness was truly about. I knew a woman who experienced sexual abuse as a child, from her father. When I first met her, I remember her asking me why God would allow this to happen to her. The only answer I could think of to come up with was that God gives us all free will to choose to do right or wrong and unfortunately, her father chose something that was horribly wrong that affected her. I know it wasn't the answer she was looking for, but we formed a friendship out of our many conversations. When this happened to her, she had no one to turn to for comfort and no one came to her side. I guess the few people that did know what happened to her, just didn't know what to say and so they avoided her entirely. While that is a really stupid response, I understand their fear. We just need to force ourselves to leave our comfort zones at times to "minister" to others. In some cases, it's a matter of life or death.
This woman grew up to be a beautiful woman, inside and out. She taught me many things about love and relationships, and most of all, forgiveness. When her father layed dying, she went to his side and stayed with him until he passed away. I was there too. I saw how she stroked his hair and his arm, singing to him songs about Jesus and telling him it was ok, that he could let go and that God would be there to meet him. She cried and sang and stroked the hair of a man who hurt her beyond words can describe. My eyes well up now, after all these years, because I still can't believe what I saw and I will never forget it. Here was the epitomy of forgiveness - God's forgiveness.
Forgiveness crosses churches, religions, faiths and cultures. It's even essential for people who are athiests - it affects us all. I would say that if you ever meet an old person who is mean or bitter, if you look into their past, there is someone or something along the way whom they chose not to forgive. Because unforgiveness leads to bitterness. And bitterness leads to hate. And hate can lead to all things negative and evil. But it doesn't only affect old people. Young people can experience this as well. That's why it's so important to guard ourselves from unforgiveness - that is, if we want to lead fulfilling and satisfying lives.
Why should I forgive others? It doesn't condone what the person has done. But what it does is free ME from holding onto grudges, bitterness and attitude toward the person who offended me. Why should I hold onto something that they probably haven't thought twice about? So really then, forgiving others helps me in so many ways. It's really pretty simple, but decidedly hard to do.
So, the bottom line for me is that I try not to be offended by others in the first place. You know, the older you get, the less you care what others think about you anyway. And if someone does actually offend me, I try to "talk myself down" or ask God to help me with this and before I know it, I don't even remember what happened. Getting old really is a blessing! I can definitely keep a secret - my memory is so short I don't remember what you told me this morning...
Aside from Jesus dying on the cross for us and forgiving our sins, which is truly the ultimate act of forgiveness, I experienced a much more personal experience first-hand, of what love and forgiveness was truly about. I knew a woman who experienced sexual abuse as a child, from her father. When I first met her, I remember her asking me why God would allow this to happen to her. The only answer I could think of to come up with was that God gives us all free will to choose to do right or wrong and unfortunately, her father chose something that was horribly wrong that affected her. I know it wasn't the answer she was looking for, but we formed a friendship out of our many conversations. When this happened to her, she had no one to turn to for comfort and no one came to her side. I guess the few people that did know what happened to her, just didn't know what to say and so they avoided her entirely. While that is a really stupid response, I understand their fear. We just need to force ourselves to leave our comfort zones at times to "minister" to others. In some cases, it's a matter of life or death.
This woman grew up to be a beautiful woman, inside and out. She taught me many things about love and relationships, and most of all, forgiveness. When her father layed dying, she went to his side and stayed with him until he passed away. I was there too. I saw how she stroked his hair and his arm, singing to him songs about Jesus and telling him it was ok, that he could let go and that God would be there to meet him. She cried and sang and stroked the hair of a man who hurt her beyond words can describe. My eyes well up now, after all these years, because I still can't believe what I saw and I will never forget it. Here was the epitomy of forgiveness - God's forgiveness.
Forgiveness crosses churches, religions, faiths and cultures. It's even essential for people who are athiests - it affects us all. I would say that if you ever meet an old person who is mean or bitter, if you look into their past, there is someone or something along the way whom they chose not to forgive. Because unforgiveness leads to bitterness. And bitterness leads to hate. And hate can lead to all things negative and evil. But it doesn't only affect old people. Young people can experience this as well. That's why it's so important to guard ourselves from unforgiveness - that is, if we want to lead fulfilling and satisfying lives.
Why should I forgive others? It doesn't condone what the person has done. But what it does is free ME from holding onto grudges, bitterness and attitude toward the person who offended me. Why should I hold onto something that they probably haven't thought twice about? So really then, forgiving others helps me in so many ways. It's really pretty simple, but decidedly hard to do.
So, the bottom line for me is that I try not to be offended by others in the first place. You know, the older you get, the less you care what others think about you anyway. And if someone does actually offend me, I try to "talk myself down" or ask God to help me with this and before I know it, I don't even remember what happened. Getting old really is a blessing! I can definitely keep a secret - my memory is so short I don't remember what you told me this morning...
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Gotta Love Her
Oh, Eunice, you gotta love her.
Tonight at the nursing home, an aide was telling us that she has traveled around the world with her husband and talked about their recent trip to China. At the end of her description, my mother asked her if her husband came home with slanted eyes (from China). I just gasped and said, "Mom..." but she had no clue that what she said was not kosher. The aide, who is from Jamaica, just smiled and continued on her way. She wasn't offended, which I was thankful for. We tend to hold our breath before my mom says anything out loud, because you never know what it's gonna be.
It's really interesting, though, watching her at the nursing home. She talks to the aides and nurses like she's a little girl or pretending to be mad at them or just plain silly. They all seem to like her - it's probably a nice break from the mean, mentally ill ones - but I don't know what to make of it. I know she loves the attention she's getting because she talks to everyone who comes in her room, whether they came in to see her or not (she has a roommate). She knows all their names and all their backgrounds and if I didn't know any better, I would say that she's so comfortable there that she doesn't want to leave. She kept telling my dad and I tonight that her physical therapists don't think she should leave yet because they don't think she's ready. So instead of July 24, we decided for her to come home after I return from Madison, about August 4 or 5. That way she won't be alone with my dad, which is hard enough as it is, without not feeling well.
I know that my mom was "secretly" diagnosed with the beginning of dementia - "secretly" because we haven't told her - so I take what she says with a grain of salt. I don't want her to know this because I think it will make her very depressed and my dad and brothers agree. Her mother, my Nana, died from complications of Alzeimher's Disease, so I don't want to put fear or sadness into my mother's psyche. I just don't think it's necessary.
But my mom has always said things that were inappropriate or weird. I had a boyfriend once that came over to dinner and my mom happened to be there as well and he had a cool, bright-colored shirt on, that I actually gave to him. The first thing that came out of my mother's mouth after meeting him was, "My, your shirt is quite loud." I, of course, cringed and changed the conversation, but she had no clue what she said could be interpreted as offensive. I actually tried to warn my boyfriend before he met her that sometimes she says inappropriate things, but it was still embarrassing to me when she said it.
Once when I was young, probably around 11 or 12, an extremely heavy woman crossed the street in front of our stopped car and my mother looked at me and said, "Now, you need to stop eating so much; you don't want to look like her, do you?" I was too young to talk back to her then, but it embarrassed me nonetheless. SHE was the one who said, "Sticks and stones can break your bones, but names will never hurt you." She really had no clue all the times she hurt me by criticizing me about my weight. But then most parents don't know how they've hurt their children until it's way too late, looking back in retrospect. I know her mother hurt her, she hurt me and I'm sure I've hurt my kids in one way or the other.
Forgiveness is the key. It's what mends relationships and heals hearts. If I can't forgive others, then how can God forgive me? I need His forgiveness every day, and so I try to repent and forgive every day. After all, who am I to hold a grudge against someone who has offended me, when I have also offended others? It's such a simple concept, really. So simple that lots of folks haven't grasped it yet. And the very cool thing about it, is that when I forgive, I unload a lot of pure junk which I carried as a burden on my shoulders, sometimes for years, that feels wonderful when it's lifted. It's like the weightless feeling of floating in the pool. And you know, I really dig that.
Tonight at the nursing home, an aide was telling us that she has traveled around the world with her husband and talked about their recent trip to China. At the end of her description, my mother asked her if her husband came home with slanted eyes (from China). I just gasped and said, "Mom..." but she had no clue that what she said was not kosher. The aide, who is from Jamaica, just smiled and continued on her way. She wasn't offended, which I was thankful for. We tend to hold our breath before my mom says anything out loud, because you never know what it's gonna be.
It's really interesting, though, watching her at the nursing home. She talks to the aides and nurses like she's a little girl or pretending to be mad at them or just plain silly. They all seem to like her - it's probably a nice break from the mean, mentally ill ones - but I don't know what to make of it. I know she loves the attention she's getting because she talks to everyone who comes in her room, whether they came in to see her or not (she has a roommate). She knows all their names and all their backgrounds and if I didn't know any better, I would say that she's so comfortable there that she doesn't want to leave. She kept telling my dad and I tonight that her physical therapists don't think she should leave yet because they don't think she's ready. So instead of July 24, we decided for her to come home after I return from Madison, about August 4 or 5. That way she won't be alone with my dad, which is hard enough as it is, without not feeling well.
I know that my mom was "secretly" diagnosed with the beginning of dementia - "secretly" because we haven't told her - so I take what she says with a grain of salt. I don't want her to know this because I think it will make her very depressed and my dad and brothers agree. Her mother, my Nana, died from complications of Alzeimher's Disease, so I don't want to put fear or sadness into my mother's psyche. I just don't think it's necessary.
But my mom has always said things that were inappropriate or weird. I had a boyfriend once that came over to dinner and my mom happened to be there as well and he had a cool, bright-colored shirt on, that I actually gave to him. The first thing that came out of my mother's mouth after meeting him was, "My, your shirt is quite loud." I, of course, cringed and changed the conversation, but she had no clue what she said could be interpreted as offensive. I actually tried to warn my boyfriend before he met her that sometimes she says inappropriate things, but it was still embarrassing to me when she said it.
Once when I was young, probably around 11 or 12, an extremely heavy woman crossed the street in front of our stopped car and my mother looked at me and said, "Now, you need to stop eating so much; you don't want to look like her, do you?" I was too young to talk back to her then, but it embarrassed me nonetheless. SHE was the one who said, "Sticks and stones can break your bones, but names will never hurt you." She really had no clue all the times she hurt me by criticizing me about my weight. But then most parents don't know how they've hurt their children until it's way too late, looking back in retrospect. I know her mother hurt her, she hurt me and I'm sure I've hurt my kids in one way or the other.
Forgiveness is the key. It's what mends relationships and heals hearts. If I can't forgive others, then how can God forgive me? I need His forgiveness every day, and so I try to repent and forgive every day. After all, who am I to hold a grudge against someone who has offended me, when I have also offended others? It's such a simple concept, really. So simple that lots of folks haven't grasped it yet. And the very cool thing about it, is that when I forgive, I unload a lot of pure junk which I carried as a burden on my shoulders, sometimes for years, that feels wonderful when it's lifted. It's like the weightless feeling of floating in the pool. And you know, I really dig that.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Rebellion
Richard and his family left yesterday, driving back to Iowa. Micah and Jasmine left this afternoon and I always hate when my children leave me. I get this icky, empty feeling cause I know that I won't see them in a long time and I just hate that. He lives so far away, but now I live so far away from all my kids and grandkids. I'm just going to have to plan visits more often, that's all.
So everyone has gone and it's back to just me and Bob. I would never call him Bob to his face, of course, but it's kind of funny in writing. Not that he can do anything about it anymore; it would be him chasing me and we both waddle and wouldn't get very far.
But it wasn't always this way. My dad was very formidable when I was young and he scared me to death. And even though I was scared of him, I did some really stupid things during my youth. When I was a teenager, I would come home late at night, stoned or drunk out of my mind and my dad was always sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. He would be doing some kind of paperwork and when I walked in, I tried not to look him in the eyes, thinking he would realize I was stoned. He always looked up and I always looked down and said, "Hi dad," and he would say "Hi sis," and I would head straight to my room. He never did know about my getting high, unless he just didn't let on. I would guess that he didn't know because he wouldn't know what weed smelled like, so he probably thought I was just smoking cigarettes. He no doubt smelled the alcohol though, and it was probably those nights when he gave me the evil eye. He had, and still has, one of the meanest looks known to man. As they say, if looks could kill, well, let's just say I would be dead ten times over.
In the same vein of parents not knowing what their children are doing, my mother was a prime example of that. She worked as the secretary in my junior high school, Lincoln Junior High, which was a real drag for me because I began going behind her back by wearing make-up and jewelry (which she prohibited me from doing), and I had to be very careful as to not letting her see my face during the day. I would put this stuff on before school and take it off after school, and she never was aware of what I was doing. When I had to walk by her office, I would open my eyes up real wide so she couldn't see the eye liner that was so obviously on my eyes. Black, thick eyeliner and sometimes black mascara too. How can you not see that? I even bleached my hair with peroxide in the summer and she never noticed. I would take the peroxide bottle she kept in the bathroom cupboard and with a tissue, simply swipe it through my hair, then sit in the sun. It made my hair stink real bad, but she simply thought the sun was lightening it up, even though one year it was actually blonde when I was naturally a brunette!
It was during Christmas break the year that I was 16 years old that my parents decided to take a trip to Florida. I didn’t want to go with them, and so they took Danny (Richard was in the service) and foolishly left me at home alone for 2 weeks! I really couldn’t believe they did that, but they did, and so I took advantage of the situation. They also left me their car, which was very convenient, as I drove down to the south side of Chicago to pick up my boyfriend, Michael, so he could stay with me. As it turned out, I had a party in my parents’ home for the entire 2 weeks, with people coming in and out, some of whom I didn’t even know. We smoked, drank the liquor in my parents’ liquor cabinet (filling the near-empty bottles with water afterward), used drugs and just sat around listening to music all day and night. I tried to air the house out before my parents came home, as they didn’t smoke at all, but that was impossible and they smelled it as soon as they walked in the front door. Apparently my dad had written down the mileage on the car before he left (which I didn’t know about) and wanted to know where I had driven to put so many miles on the car. He was furious of course. It was not a good situation when they came home, but I deserved every bit of their wrath, if not more.
Someone told me this week that they read that it's usually the wayward or rebellious child who ends up taking care of the parents in their old age. I thought that was interesting and just smiled, because in my situation, it's true. My brothers never put my parents through all the grief that I did. Now, which one of my kids....
So everyone has gone and it's back to just me and Bob. I would never call him Bob to his face, of course, but it's kind of funny in writing. Not that he can do anything about it anymore; it would be him chasing me and we both waddle and wouldn't get very far.
But it wasn't always this way. My dad was very formidable when I was young and he scared me to death. And even though I was scared of him, I did some really stupid things during my youth. When I was a teenager, I would come home late at night, stoned or drunk out of my mind and my dad was always sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me. He would be doing some kind of paperwork and when I walked in, I tried not to look him in the eyes, thinking he would realize I was stoned. He always looked up and I always looked down and said, "Hi dad," and he would say "Hi sis," and I would head straight to my room. He never did know about my getting high, unless he just didn't let on. I would guess that he didn't know because he wouldn't know what weed smelled like, so he probably thought I was just smoking cigarettes. He no doubt smelled the alcohol though, and it was probably those nights when he gave me the evil eye. He had, and still has, one of the meanest looks known to man. As they say, if looks could kill, well, let's just say I would be dead ten times over.
In the same vein of parents not knowing what their children are doing, my mother was a prime example of that. She worked as the secretary in my junior high school, Lincoln Junior High, which was a real drag for me because I began going behind her back by wearing make-up and jewelry (which she prohibited me from doing), and I had to be very careful as to not letting her see my face during the day. I would put this stuff on before school and take it off after school, and she never was aware of what I was doing. When I had to walk by her office, I would open my eyes up real wide so she couldn't see the eye liner that was so obviously on my eyes. Black, thick eyeliner and sometimes black mascara too. How can you not see that? I even bleached my hair with peroxide in the summer and she never noticed. I would take the peroxide bottle she kept in the bathroom cupboard and with a tissue, simply swipe it through my hair, then sit in the sun. It made my hair stink real bad, but she simply thought the sun was lightening it up, even though one year it was actually blonde when I was naturally a brunette!
It was during Christmas break the year that I was 16 years old that my parents decided to take a trip to Florida. I didn’t want to go with them, and so they took Danny (Richard was in the service) and foolishly left me at home alone for 2 weeks! I really couldn’t believe they did that, but they did, and so I took advantage of the situation. They also left me their car, which was very convenient, as I drove down to the south side of Chicago to pick up my boyfriend, Michael, so he could stay with me. As it turned out, I had a party in my parents’ home for the entire 2 weeks, with people coming in and out, some of whom I didn’t even know. We smoked, drank the liquor in my parents’ liquor cabinet (filling the near-empty bottles with water afterward), used drugs and just sat around listening to music all day and night. I tried to air the house out before my parents came home, as they didn’t smoke at all, but that was impossible and they smelled it as soon as they walked in the front door. Apparently my dad had written down the mileage on the car before he left (which I didn’t know about) and wanted to know where I had driven to put so many miles on the car. He was furious of course. It was not a good situation when they came home, but I deserved every bit of their wrath, if not more.
Someone told me this week that they read that it's usually the wayward or rebellious child who ends up taking care of the parents in their old age. I thought that was interesting and just smiled, because in my situation, it's true. My brothers never put my parents through all the grief that I did. Now, which one of my kids....
Friday, July 15, 2011
I Don't Understand
I don't understand why people wait until they're dying or very ill or in a terrible situation before they turn to God for help. I really don't understand this, and even wrote a poem a long time ago, which is below. God wants us to come to Him as our Father and He longs to fellowship with us. It's not about religion - it's about relationship - our relationship with Jesus. Relationship is so important. It's actually the most important relationship we can ever have in our lives. And if that is true, then I believe we should pursue it wholeheartedly, with honest desire long before we are old or dying or up against a spiritual wall.
God wants us to choose to love and seek Him - He would never force us. Just like our children - we long for them to love us but we would never try to force them to do so. That would not only be ridiculous, but it would not be real love. And so it is with God.
I hope I don't sound like an annoying know-it-all. I'm really just expressing something I have never understood. Because I have depended on God most of my adult life, I don't know how people can function without Him. I have joy, I have peace and most of all, I have hope. If my hope was in this life only, how shallow and disappointing that would be. I'm definitely not perfect - not even near - but like the bumper sticker says, I am forgiven. Thank God for His mercy and grace.
What I have said to my friends who claim to be athiests or just follks who don't think God is important, is that if I am wrong and there is no God, I really won't have anything to lose. I lived a good life and I am at peace. But, if there is a God as I believe, then you have everything to lose. I choose not to gamble my eternity - it's far too important.
I have some questions I must ask
to understand your mind;
is it your pride or foolishness
or just from being blind?
His blood and pain was for your soul,
and yet you never knew.
How can you live your life as though
yet though, not knowing, you decide
where you'll spend eternity.
What do you think about at night
does fear or emptiness appear
or do you simply weep?
Do memories invade your thoughts
and have you ever wondered
why your happiness won't last?
of life and love and peace within
the kind your soul does seek.
turn to the One Who loved you first
then love, for once, you'll see.
God wants us to choose to love and seek Him - He would never force us. Just like our children - we long for them to love us but we would never try to force them to do so. That would not only be ridiculous, but it would not be real love. And so it is with God.
I hope I don't sound like an annoying know-it-all. I'm really just expressing something I have never understood. Because I have depended on God most of my adult life, I don't know how people can function without Him. I have joy, I have peace and most of all, I have hope. If my hope was in this life only, how shallow and disappointing that would be. I'm definitely not perfect - not even near - but like the bumper sticker says, I am forgiven. Thank God for His mercy and grace.
What I have said to my friends who claim to be athiests or just follks who don't think God is important, is that if I am wrong and there is no God, I really won't have anything to lose. I lived a good life and I am at peace. But, if there is a God as I believe, then you have everything to lose. I choose not to gamble my eternity - it's far too important.
I have some questions I must ask
to understand your mind;
is it your pride or foolishness
or just from being blind?
How can you just ignore the fact
He gave His life for you?His blood and pain was for your soul,
and yet you never knew.
yet though, not knowing, you decide
where you'll spend eternity.
does fear or emptiness appear
or do you simply weep?
and have you ever wondered
why your happiness won't last?
Why do you look beyond the One
Who holds the very key?of life and love and peace within
the kind your soul does seek.
It's really not as difficult
as you make it out to be;turn to the One Who loved you first
then love, for once, you'll see.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
My Mom
The backyard of my dad's house sounds like a rainforest. There are species of every bird imaginable, ducks, crickets and some insect or animal that makes a really loud, high-pitched cricket-like sound. The birds are all chirping, beeping, sqwalling, wooing and cawing. It's a menagerie of sounds quite like the jungle, not that I've ever been there, but what I would imagine a jungle would be like. And then there are the alligators.
Jason and I saw a huge alligator just last week in the canal in back of the house. His head was out of the water and we were all excited but he just ignored us and kept floating along while Jas took a short video of it. It was bizarre that he was so close with no barriers. Kind of scarey too. I've read that they can run up to 30 mph for short stints, however they only run straight. That's supposed to be comforting, because all you have to do is run zig-zag and he won't get you. However, I don't know any human being who can run 30 mph, even for a short stint, much less in a zig-zag fashion.
So all the sounds of the backyard makes it feel very exotic when I'm in the pool. I watch the canal carefully, because I don't want an alligator crawling up to the screen and pushing his way through to me. My kids laugh at me and say that would never happen, but just in case... We swam at night a few times, which is very cool with the light on in the pool. It all looks very eerie, but every loud sound we heard, made me feel a little alarmed inside. You can't see out into the canal when it's dark, so all you have is your imagination, and mine is quite vivid. I stayed on the opposite side of the pool, so just in case he came crashing through the screen, I could make a fast, or rather as fast as my feet would go with hopefully adrenalin pushing them, getaway up the stairs and into the house. That hasn't happened yet, which is a good thing because I would probably end up having an asthma attack and collapsing in the kitchen.
Richard picked up my mom today and took her for a drive and then we all met for lunch. She's doing really well. I took her back to the nursing home, but we made a pit stop at the house first to surprise my dad. We decided that Sunday, July 24th, she will be coming home. I'm going to have to have a "talk" with her that I really don't want to do. She talks and treats my dad so mean that it's getting ridiculous. I know she has a lot of resentment toward him, but enough already. It's really ugly and I don't like it. I mean, my dad isn't the easiest person in the world to live with, but neither is she! At least I don't have to hide my Butterfingers with my dad. I'm not sure if she realizes how mean she is being toward him and I plan on laying it out for her. I don't like to see or hear it and I feel sorry for my dad. All he wants is to help her and she barks at him like a dog. He doesn't deserve that.
What a weird position to be in. I'll talk to her alone when I go to the nursing home this upcoming week. Hopefully she will "hear" me. You would never know this about my mom. She does it very quietly and if there are people around, not at all. To my mom's friends, her sky is always blue, the grass is always green and she is always "just fine." Unfortunately, my mom doesn't look life square in the face and confront it for what it is. Her motto always was, and still is, "Ignore it and it will go away." She used to say that about my dad too. I think the reason I tend to be too bold or too honest or too confrontational, is because she was just the opposite. She is very passive-aggressive and I hate that characteristic. But in some ways, being the martyr that she is, has perhaps helped her survive all these years. She has, for as long as I can remember, been extremely depressed, but would never admit it. Just recently, while in the nursing home, I finally talked her into taking an anti-depressant. Hopefully that will kick in soon and her disposition will change; because I really don't want to be a referee. I'd much rather be just their daughter.
Jason and I saw a huge alligator just last week in the canal in back of the house. His head was out of the water and we were all excited but he just ignored us and kept floating along while Jas took a short video of it. It was bizarre that he was so close with no barriers. Kind of scarey too. I've read that they can run up to 30 mph for short stints, however they only run straight. That's supposed to be comforting, because all you have to do is run zig-zag and he won't get you. However, I don't know any human being who can run 30 mph, even for a short stint, much less in a zig-zag fashion.
So all the sounds of the backyard makes it feel very exotic when I'm in the pool. I watch the canal carefully, because I don't want an alligator crawling up to the screen and pushing his way through to me. My kids laugh at me and say that would never happen, but just in case... We swam at night a few times, which is very cool with the light on in the pool. It all looks very eerie, but every loud sound we heard, made me feel a little alarmed inside. You can't see out into the canal when it's dark, so all you have is your imagination, and mine is quite vivid. I stayed on the opposite side of the pool, so just in case he came crashing through the screen, I could make a fast, or rather as fast as my feet would go with hopefully adrenalin pushing them, getaway up the stairs and into the house. That hasn't happened yet, which is a good thing because I would probably end up having an asthma attack and collapsing in the kitchen.
Richard picked up my mom today and took her for a drive and then we all met for lunch. She's doing really well. I took her back to the nursing home, but we made a pit stop at the house first to surprise my dad. We decided that Sunday, July 24th, she will be coming home. I'm going to have to have a "talk" with her that I really don't want to do. She talks and treats my dad so mean that it's getting ridiculous. I know she has a lot of resentment toward him, but enough already. It's really ugly and I don't like it. I mean, my dad isn't the easiest person in the world to live with, but neither is she! At least I don't have to hide my Butterfingers with my dad. I'm not sure if she realizes how mean she is being toward him and I plan on laying it out for her. I don't like to see or hear it and I feel sorry for my dad. All he wants is to help her and she barks at him like a dog. He doesn't deserve that.
What a weird position to be in. I'll talk to her alone when I go to the nursing home this upcoming week. Hopefully she will "hear" me. You would never know this about my mom. She does it very quietly and if there are people around, not at all. To my mom's friends, her sky is always blue, the grass is always green and she is always "just fine." Unfortunately, my mom doesn't look life square in the face and confront it for what it is. Her motto always was, and still is, "Ignore it and it will go away." She used to say that about my dad too. I think the reason I tend to be too bold or too honest or too confrontational, is because she was just the opposite. She is very passive-aggressive and I hate that characteristic. But in some ways, being the martyr that she is, has perhaps helped her survive all these years. She has, for as long as I can remember, been extremely depressed, but would never admit it. Just recently, while in the nursing home, I finally talked her into taking an anti-depressant. Hopefully that will kick in soon and her disposition will change; because I really don't want to be a referee. I'd much rather be just their daughter.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Fish
I'm watching how octupus mate tonight with my father. How awkward. It's on the Public Broadcasting Channel and supposed to be educational. All I feel is embarrassed. I mean, it's the most natural thing in the world, but somehow watching it with my father, loses the educational part and all I can think of is that they're having sex. I act like it's an interesting show to watch when he points certain things out to me, but trying to paying little attention to it. But my father is becoming hard of hearing and the TV is blaring. It's hard to simply ignore. But the question is, who cares how octupus mate?? Some of these shows are so bizarre. These researchers probably get paid huge salaries to watch and record how octupus mate.
Earlier in the evening, my father watches one show after another about stocks, bonds and the market in which I know nothing about and I find very boring. I don't have a clue what they're talking about and my father sits glued to them with intense interest. I need to pull my paints out and start painting during this time; I don't know why I haven't yet. I keep putting it off and I don't know why. It's probably some deep psychological issue; or maybe I'm just lazy.
My mother is feeling much better. Her infection is gone and the doctor has given her permission to come home. But she doesn't want to just yet. She told Danny that she's scared. I'm not sure what she's scared about, so I need to talk to her to find out what's going on. I guess it's understandable to be scared, leaving the security of the nursing home, but that's the whole point for me being here - to help my mom and dad both.
She went to the doctor yesterday morning and I was planning to go with her and my dad. She told my dad that she wanted my older brother, Richard, to go with her instead. Why? Because he had some kind of medical experience in the Air Force some 40 years ago. I just shook my head and laughed. Richard has always been, and still is, my mother's favorite. So I said no problem, because I wanted to sleep in anyway.
My brother and his wife and granddaughter came down to visit my parents two days ago. They drove down because they have a lot of stuff here that they want to take back up north with them, and to see about my parents. They came over today and we swam in the pool and just hung out. Micah and Jasmine left for the other coast this afternoon. They are preaching in a church in Palm Beach and will be staying there for a few days before coming back to Venice. They plan on driving down to Key West and then on Sunday, they have another preaching engagement at a different church.
Now we're watching a program about white whales. No, I didn't know there were white whales, but I think it's time to go to bed. I REALLY don't want to see how these huge fish mate...
Earlier in the evening, my father watches one show after another about stocks, bonds and the market in which I know nothing about and I find very boring. I don't have a clue what they're talking about and my father sits glued to them with intense interest. I need to pull my paints out and start painting during this time; I don't know why I haven't yet. I keep putting it off and I don't know why. It's probably some deep psychological issue; or maybe I'm just lazy.
My mother is feeling much better. Her infection is gone and the doctor has given her permission to come home. But she doesn't want to just yet. She told Danny that she's scared. I'm not sure what she's scared about, so I need to talk to her to find out what's going on. I guess it's understandable to be scared, leaving the security of the nursing home, but that's the whole point for me being here - to help my mom and dad both.
She went to the doctor yesterday morning and I was planning to go with her and my dad. She told my dad that she wanted my older brother, Richard, to go with her instead. Why? Because he had some kind of medical experience in the Air Force some 40 years ago. I just shook my head and laughed. Richard has always been, and still is, my mother's favorite. So I said no problem, because I wanted to sleep in anyway.
My brother and his wife and granddaughter came down to visit my parents two days ago. They drove down because they have a lot of stuff here that they want to take back up north with them, and to see about my parents. They came over today and we swam in the pool and just hung out. Micah and Jasmine left for the other coast this afternoon. They are preaching in a church in Palm Beach and will be staying there for a few days before coming back to Venice. They plan on driving down to Key West and then on Sunday, they have another preaching engagement at a different church.
Now we're watching a program about white whales. No, I didn't know there were white whales, but I think it's time to go to bed. I REALLY don't want to see how these huge fish mate...
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