Fading Memories

As many of you know, my dear hubby has had quite the time with his health the past couple years.  At times, this has been very stressful and tiring.  Recently, he was discharged from his neurologist which is a very good thing to have happen.  It appears that my dear hubby does not have Alzheimer’s or early onset dementia.  We are thankful for this diagnosis.  It is a relief and a comfort.  Hubby, does however, have some areas that are not where they should be.  He cannot multi task, which is a primary duty in his career.  He is also suffering from the effects of stress and exhaustion.  The neurologist did not say if these things will go away.  We will just have to learn to live with them.  Deal with them.  And, that is exactly what we are going to do.

Last week we were asked by a new friend to sometime share ’our’ story with a couple of couples.  Our testimony, if you will.  This is a question that poses some thought.  First, we need to decide if we are comfortable enough and trust these people enough to open up our history to them.  Moving to a new place after many years in San Diego, we realize people we meet know nothing of us, really.  We are plopped into a place here and we go about our normal way of life.  Some people aren’t even certain if we have children or not.  Moving can do this to people.  We know we have children.  We know all about us.  Others don’t.

It was a good question and hubby and I are thinking about sharing with these couples.  It is good to have people close by who know your history and know how you think of things and situations.  It makes for a trusting friendship.  It makes a friendship develop into the extended family I recently wrote about.

Since we were asked, hubby and I looked at each other and started talking about ‘our’ story.  Right away I noticed some key factors missing from his point of view.  In my mind, horns and whistles were going off, lights were flashing.   Calmly, I looked at him and started asking him questions.  He looked at me like I had three heads.  Somewhere in recent years some memories have faded from his mind.

The questions I asked should have prompted him to remember, to recall issues and situations that should match my memories.  They didn’t.  We finished our conversation, but since then, I have pondered on it all.

What do we do when memories fade?  Where do you place those memories when they can’t be recalled?  My heart wanted to press for more information from him.  My heart wanted the reassurance that the counter-part of my memories were still intact and vital.   A part of me felt like I was half here.

Another question I had was, how important are the memories that have faded from him? Were they important just to me, or can they be left to a corner while we make new ones.

This season of our lives has been interesting to say the least.  We are pressing on, going to another set of specialists who will help him with his stress and exhaustion.  Things will change again.  I have often heard people say that it’s tough getting old.  I guess it is, but, I had thought I had at least another 20 years for some of these things to start.

The story of our lives changes and transforms through the years.  Where we dreamed we would be at a particular age, doesn’t always happen.  If we did not have our faith to cling to, I really do not know where we would be now.   Jeremiah 29:11 says, “ For I know the plans I have for you,” says the LORD. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”  (New Living Translation)

I trust in the Lord to make sense of all that has happened the past few years, it has been quite the adventure.

Thanks for stopping by today.  DAF

Baby Watch…. a year later…

A year ago I was planning a series of posts on Baby Watch, 2012.  I wrote about the trip up to wait the arrival of our grandson.  It was a fun time, the weather was much too hot to have fun outside, but we did manage to tour Gettysburg for three days and we did take several walks with our family in the D.C. area.

The baby was born and I went on with my posting.  Last week I began to think about this time last year.  I thought of the posts and smiled to  myself.  The baby watch became baby watching.  We have loved watching him grow this year.

He was an alert baby from the start.  His bright eyes captured our hearts immediately.  He seemed to smile sooner than I remember my own children smiling.  His smile is so heartwarming, and contagious.  Yes, I know, I am gushing, but he is so easy to gush over.

He has grown so much and with each visit via Skype, he changes.  He smiles and babbles on.  I know he is talking to me and telling me about his adventures with his Nana.  Nana watches him each morning while my daughter teaches preschool.  They share wonderful adventures and he loves to tell me about them.

He has eight teeth (at least I think that is the count now).  He smiles and you see them and have to laugh.  He loves to eat his fruit and veggies and recently he discovered the wonderous joy of carnitas (homemade, of course).  I guess he could not get enough of the pork pieces.

He is starting to venture out in walking now.  He has taken a couple of steps on his own, but with his quick smile, he realizes he is not just ready yet and reaches out for someone close by.

We get to visit him soon.  I am anxious for this, and keep checking the calendar to make  certain it’s still only June.  I have another month and a few days to go before we leave, and time is just not going fast enough for me to be there.

The baby watch will go on, I am afraid.  I will watch him until my eyes no longer work.  He will always be our little baby grandson.  He will always have that joy that infects our hearts with laughter.  A year ago, I thought I knew how I would feel when I saw him.  I was so wrong.  I thought I would be happy and joyful.  I was that, but this is so much more.  People warned me about being a grandparent.  I thought they were exaggerating.  Again, wrong!

I am so thankful for this gift in our life.  He teaches me so much when I see him and hold him.  Lessons I am learning can’t be put into words though.  I look at him and see the glory of God, for he is our precious gift from God.  I see a life starting to unfold.  A life beginning, a life ready to learn and explore and touch.  Through his eyes I see the beauty of a tree, the wonder of a cloud and the adventure of walking around a coffee table.

I feel the release to squeal with laughter over any accomplishment.  The delight to wave hello to people.  The freedom to give kisses on those you love.  These are lessons I needed to relearn.  I am so glad the Lord provided such a wonderful teacher in our little grandson.   Yes, I will continue with the baby watch… and will drag you, my dear blogging friends along with me.

Thanks for stopping by, I appreciate it.  DAF

Fathers

Tomorrow is Father’s Day as I write this.  I have thought of my father all day long as I have seen people post pictures of their Dads on Facebook.  It is a touching tribute and one I wish I could do.  But, I have no pictures on my computer of him and did not think to scan one in before tonight.

My father was a second generation American.  He was an Irishman.  He had a great sense of humor, he loved a good story and he loved to drink.  I loved spending time with him, at times.  Sometimes he did not want to be around people.  He wanted his space and his time alone.  He could be an enigma at times.

What I have really thought of since his death is the person he was. He worked hard and had his share of trials at his workplace.  He remained loyal to those he worked for until his retirement.  He loved his city.  Was proud of his city.

When I was young he would wake me up early and we would go for walks.  We would talk about anything that came to mind.  Those are some of my fondest memories.  We would walk along the hills in town and see the wildflowers growing, we would watch the river flowing.  During those times he would talk of his life as a young man.

He carried papers to earn money during the depression years.  I have two pictures in my guest room that were my Grandmother’s.  My dad saved the money he earned with his paper route to buy them for her.  They are in the original frames and every time I look at them, my heart is filled with love.

He was beside my Mom while she battled pancreatic cancer.  He was 41 when she lost her battle with cancer.  I can only imagine what he was thinking and feeling at that point.  He became the sole parent to three daughters, 15, 11, and 9.  The fear and uncertainty he must have felt, must have been incredible.  But, raise us, he did.

He died suddenly in 1993.  His death happened so quickly, that I could not wrap my mind around his death.  For years I would think of calling him to tell him about something I did or something my daughters had done or experienced.

A dear friend of mine who was beside me when I heard news of his passing told me, “As adults we think of our parents as our Mother and Father, but when they die, they once more become Mommy and Daddy.”  That touched my heart as the news of my Daddy’s passing started to creep its way into my conscience.

It has been years since I have had a parent to talk with or visit with.  One by one I have seen my friends lose their Fathers.  I know the pain they are experiencing at that time, although words fail to bring comfort or security.

Psalm 68:4-6 (New Living Translation) states: “ ⁴ Sing praises to God and to his name!     Sing loud praises to him who rides the clouds. His name is the Lord—     rejoice in his presence!

⁵ Father to the fatherless, defender of widows—     this is God, whose dwelling is holy. ⁶ God places the lonely in families;     he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy. But he makes the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.”

I read this psalm shortly after getting home after my Father’s memorial service.  I had read it several times before, but it never touched my heart like it did that time.   In the time of my grief, my Heavenly Father assured me that I was not alone.

So, on Father’s Day, I remember my Dad.  He may have had his flaws, but he is the man chosen to raise me as best he could.  I am grateful for the time I had with him.  I cherish the memories of him.

On Father’s Day tomorrow, I will celebrate with my dear hubby.  He blessed me with two beautiful daughters and as best he could, along with me, we raised them.  I hope in years to come my daughters will think of their Dad with the love and understanding that I have for my Dad this day.

Thanks for stopping by.  It means the world to me, DAF

Family

The family is a haven in a heartless world.  ~Attributed to Christopher Lasch

I was born into a family.  (We all are for that matter).    I am the middle of three girls.  My older sister is 4 years my senior, and my younger is 2 years behind me.

We had a nice family.  We did things together, we had meals together, we laughed together, we were disciplined.  My parents showed affection to each other, we saw them laugh and hold hands and lay in the grass and look at the clouds and dream together.

We lived in a small town and I think my childhood was pretty idyllic.    My sisters and I played the normal games growing up, house, store, school.  We rode bikes together, we played tag.  We hid from one another to get peace or escape getting caught for doing something we shouldn’t have.

We had cousins across the river.  We rode bikes with them.  We knew their boundaries for bike rides.  They were family.  They were part of us.

We had another set of cousins at a neighboring city, eight miles from ours.  We had sleep overs and went to fairs and had gatherings.  They, too, were part of us.  We belonged to one another.

We had other sets of cousins who lived in exotic cities like, Pittsburgh, Baltimore, D.C..  It was a special time when they joined us.  It was true excitement and fun for all.

My core family was the five of us.  Until I was 11.  Then it was the four of us.  It was different growing up without our Mom, but we did it.  My older sister stepped in and became a mother figure.  My dad struggled to be the sole parent, lost, as he was, after my Mom passed.

That was our family unit. It stayed the same until my older sister married.  Then, we added one more.  Next, I met, dated, got engaged to and eventually married my hubby.  His family became my family.  I added a grandmother, more aunts and uncles, and a whole lot of new cousins.

These people all seemed strange to me at first, but, then, they became family.  They were part of me.

After marriage my thinking of family changed a bit.  I had everyone I have just mentioned, but, for the most part, it was hubby and me.  That was my family.  I was happy with that.

Hubby was a military person.  That meant that we became the family who lived in exotic cities…  Norfolk; Nagai, Japan; Winter Harbor; San Diego to name a few.  That meant when we visited home, it was a special time.  It was fun, it was a party.

This is fine for when you are at that magical place called home, where everyone knows your back stories and your history and where the scar on your knee came from, but, for military families you live where no one knows those things.

Family became different, once more.  We met others just as lonely as we were.  We joined them for meals, for church, for picnics.  They became family.  Through the years we added more people to our heart.  They are more than friends.  They are aunt and uncle to our kids.  They were at birthday parties, recitals, graduations.  They were there when it hurt to talk and when the joy was overflowing.  They were part of us.

In the past five years, our family has changed more.  We have added a son-in-law, who is more like a son to us.  His folks, his family, who we have considered family for years are now officially family to us.  We share our kids.  Even more we share our grandson.  They are part of us.  They are family.

Family is a unit that morphs through the years.  People are added and sadly, people are lost.  Our hearts, so full and complete somehow open up to keep adding family.  We think of people in our life, those who are truly kindred spirits, they are connected to us  even if we are not true blood relations,and our heart takes no notice. They are part of us, they are family.

What prompted my thinking on family was several things, really.  I was looking for a cute quote for my Facebook page for Father’s Day.  I didn’t find one, but I did see the quote I opened this post with.  That was one prompt.  The other came in the form of an award  from Raising The Curtain (
http://raisingthecurtain.net/
) .  This is a blog I love.  Her humor, her words, her outlook on life is uplifting and a blessing to me.  She honored me with the Word Press Family Award

To quote her, “The concept of the WordPress family is a good one and the notion that there are people “out there” who actually take the time to care about you and your life and positively impact on your blogging”    To have her say this to me, was overwhelming, as she has taken time more than once to ask about me, how I am doing.  She has also encouraged me to keep at it.  Thank you so much Raising!  Someday I will make it to your neck of the world and I can give you a real hug instead of virtual one.

This award got me thinking about family because there are these people in the blogging world who have become ‘family’ to me.  I will most likely never meet them, but they are still family to me.  I care about them and want the very best for them.

So, here are the rules for this award:

Rules: the award logo on your blog.

• Link back to the person who nominated you.
• Nominate 10 (or more) others you see as having an impact on your WordPress experience and family.
• Let your 10 (or more) Family members know you have awarded them.

 

I may not nominate ten, as Raising the Curtain has already done that for some of the ones I would have, but here are members of my blogging family.  Stop by for a visit to them.  Have a cup of tea/coffee and get to know them, they are great members of my family, truly.

Athingirldotcom (
http://athingirl.com/
)  She is part of the family that everyone knows the party has started when she arrives!

My Men and Me (
http://mymenandme.wordpress.com/
)  She is part of the family that will host each and every event.  She is that place that is truly ‘home’.

Elizabeth W Marshall ~ poetry (
http://wynnegraceappears.com/
) She is part of the family who you can go to at any time and know she is going to care for you and pray for you and point you in the right direction

Coming East (
http://comingeast.com/
)  She is part of the family who you go to when you want humor, wisdom and acceptance.  Her blog makes me want to just curl up on her little patio and drink tea all afternoon, just to glean things from her.

Well, there are many other members of my family, but, I will close for now.  This has been the equivalent of sitting through an evening of vacation slides!

Thanks for joining me here today, I appreciate your visit, DAF

 

When the clever escapes you

Sometimes clever posts escape me.  I go about my week looking at everything with potential blog post eyes.  Sometimes little things happen and I know that what just happened will make great posts.  I love those opportunities.

The past couple days I have wanted to write.  My heart desire was to sit down and compose something, anything.  I signed onto my blog and just stared at it.  Nothing, absolutely nothing happened.  I clicked off and went back to other things.

I read a post last night about how we tend to write about outstanding things in our life.  We leave the mundane things alone.  It was an excellent post and it got me thinking.  As bloggers we tend to write about things that we think others will enjoy.  We want to entertain, minister to, and inspire others.  It is a noble cause for certain.  I know I am inspired by many of the blogs I read.

But, the clever has escaped me.  So, for today, a dose of my reality is what I write about.  It is humid here.  Tropical storm Andrea just went through.  The front yard is soggy, so is the back yard for that matter.   Walking the dog is a chore in this humidity, even he is balking at the heat.

I did a couple of loads of laundry today and even enjoyed folding it for a change.  I usually dislike the folding process.  But, today, it is all cleaned, folded and put away properly.

The dishwasher is the only noise in the background as I write this and hubby is researching routers online.

Nothing clever, nothing exciting, Just a glimpse into the ordinary-ness that besets us all.

I really, really hope that today has been more exciting for you.  Please comment and let me know that there is life beyond laundry and dishes!

I close thanking our Lord for the mundane though.  It is a gift from Him to us.  He gives us ordinary days as a blessing.  There is nothing major happening now.  We have a roof over our heads, food in our stomach, clothes to launder.  He has given us a day that is not exciting.  I think too often we forget that the ordinary is truly extraordinary.

Thanks for stopping by, I appreciate your visit.  DAF

One Clown Short

We attend a small home church.  We meet in homes and it is a wonderful experience.  Our membership is about nine families.  We are able to share a meal together and have a time of worship and a teaching.  It is a relaxed feeling and we have become family in a great sense.  We are close to one another and the caring in being in a home situation where we can see the person and how they are feeling instead of staring at the back of their head in the pew in front of us.  You can hide many feelings when you sit in a pew.  You can put a smile on your face for however long your greeting time is and then you can disappear back into whatever may be troubling you.  Sitting beside someone on a couch you can’t hide much.

Anyhow, I digress, but I wanted to give you some background about our church so you can see what a great accomplishment came from such a small group.

This past year we started doing Backpack Buddies.  It is a program that distributes bags of food each week to needy families at a school.  We decided when we started, that we could do maybe 20 backpacks a week.  Before we started actually doing the program, the number grew to 25.  We found a charter school here in the area.  This school is a private school with all the families in need.  The principal picked 25 of the neediest and each week members of the church have delivered the bags.

Today was a graduation day for the eighth graders.  We decided to put on a picnic for the graduation and celebrate the end of the school year.  We found out that there would be roughly 200 people attending.  Miraculously, we had more than enough food.  We bought hot dogs and burgers and the fixings to go with that.  Some people made macaroni and cheese and some brought veggies to eat and some made cookies.  There was watermelon and everything imaginable for a picnic.

We got there at 9ish this morning.  The first lunch time was at 10:30, so we had to be ready to go.  I arrived with my dear hubby not really knowing what I could or would do.  Games were already planned, along with a talent show put on by the kids.  Clowns were going to be there, so I figured I would help dish out food.

We were greeted by everyone and to my surprise one of the other ladies was dressed as a clown.  I spoke with her and she said, “Do you want to be a clown?”  Our clowns could not make it.  An even bigger surprise when I heard myself say, “Sure!”.

I had such a wonderful time today!  It was hot.  Very hot.  Very humid.  Two menopausal women as clowns is funny in and of itself.  But, clowns we were.  Miss Troublemaker (her clown identity) put on my make up and dubbed me Mrs Snickerdoodle,  We each had a bag of goodies and we had fun.

The kids swarmed us.  They played and laughed and I played and laughed with them.  They had great questions.  Did I get paid to be a clown?  No.  Did you always want to be a clown?  No.  Do you have kids?  Yes, and even a grandkid…. I’m a very old clown…

Some of the younger ones were afraid.  Their friends tried desperately to get them to like me.  I just handed them candy and said it was alright.

After the lunch and before the rest of the activities we left.  Dear hubby still cannot take much excitement, heat, or activity.  I knew he would tire fast.  As my makeup was running in the humidity, I turned in my treat bag and my costume.  I went to the restroom and took off the make up.  I noticed I still had one of the medals for the games around my neck.  I returned to the hall where games were underway to give the medal to Miss Troublemaker.  I walked through the crowd of kids, unnoticed.  They didn’t know that this person was the one with the big glasses and the treat bag, the one with the silly string and the bubbles.  I was just another adult.

I am thrilled I got to be a clown today.  I got to play with the kids and act with them.  If I would have served food they would have thanked me and M’am-ed me and that would have been nice.  As a clown I got to be with them.  I got to see them and their emotions.  I got to hear their laughter and be on their level.  What a blessing it was today.  I came home a very tired, former grandma clown, but my heart was full of the laughter and the fun I hadn’t expected.

It is amazing to me that a small group of people could do something this big.  I am encouraged and glad to be part of this group.

Thanks for stopping by and may your day be brightened by a smile and laugh today.  DAF

The Lake

About a week ago I called a friend of mine in San Diego.  I called to give her our new address and phone number, since I hadn’t talked with her for a while.

As I was about to begin telling her about our move, she said, are you settled?  This caused me to question how she knew what was going on.  She just laughed and said, ‘your blog’.  I had totally forgotten that she knew about my blog.

She then told me that she missed reading my posts and had hoped all was going well.  I filled her in and we continued our conversation.  It was wonderful.  In the course of the conversation, she said that reading my blog was like walking around the lake with me.  Now, to most of you, this makes no sense, but, to me, it made me cry.

This friend I met years ago, before her youngest was born and he is now out of college and starting his life as an adult.  That’s how many years it has been.  We had a friendship that started slowly, and grew over the years. She ended up moving fairly close to our place in California.  About a five-minute drive from one another.

In between our houses is a lake.  Not a massive one, in fact most of the people here on the east coast would call it a pond.  But, for San Diego standards, it is a lake.  Around this lake is a walking path with the signs so common to the area, “Rattlesnakes in the area.  Caution when walking off the path”  , sort of like the signs here in Charleston by the ponds, “alligators may live here.  No swimming or pets allowed.”  Both signs cause me to say, “Well, duh!”  But, I digress.

We would meet often at the lake between our houses.  We would set a time, and meet in the parking lot.  Greeting each other with a hug and locking our cars, we would head to the path.  We would fall into step and begin talking.  We would talk about everything possible.  How our days were going, how our kids were, how her job was, how school was, how my hubby was driving me crazy.  Nothing was off-limits.  We had days where we would laugh continuously and days where the tears fell and our hearts would break for one another.

Most of the time we really didn’t notice our surroundings, that was not the point.  We connected with one another, held each other up in hard times and always prayed for each other.

There are geese at this pond.  These, she does not like, nor trust.  Squirrels aren’t high on a likeable list either, they are quick and can startle.  One season we saw a black swan at the lake.  It was beautiful.  We did stop and marvel at this.  It was unique and beautiful.  Like the times we shared together.  Unique and beautiful.

This friend of mine is incredible.  She has survived a brain tumor.  As a single mother, she put herself through college and graduated with honors.  She cares about people in a way that truly impresses me.  She works hard and never gives up.  Most of all, she loves the Lord and is one of the first to draw me away from the edge with words of encouragement and exhortation.

I know, that if she is reading this, she will laugh a little and in her mind argue points that I have said.  But, that is okay.  That’s what friends do.

After talking with her, I was determined to give her a stroll back in time, a walk once more around the lake together.  I miss those times.  They were times of refreshment for me.  I would laugh when she would move to the other side to avoid walking by a goose.  I would laugh harder when a squirrel would race down a tree and dash across the path in front of us, making her squeal in shock and almost jumping into my arms!

A couple of times a week we would walk around the lake for two or three laps.  It was our exercise time as well as our talking time.  It made us feel good to have that exercise.  We would talk about how good we felt about exercise as we would head to a local restaurant and have breakfast, or head to the local coffee shop and have tea and cookies…. you know you always need to replenish yourself after exercising….

So, today, thank you for joining me at the lake in my memory.  So glad you stopped by.  DAF