The Day that Changed Us

This is a picture of the day that changed my life. I remember that day well. In fact, just a few years ago, I went into my childhood home where, like watching a scene from an old video reel, I remembered seeing the look on my mom's face as she took the call from the wall phone in the kitchen doorway. Someone from the bakery called to say my dad had been in a wreck. I was 9 years old at the time, so I didn't really totally understand what was going on, but I knew whatever it was, it was bad.  I just remember asking Mom,  "Did Dad die?"

My dad left for work that morning and didn't come home for months. He left that morning able to mow the yard, play ball with us, push us on the swings, all the normal things dads do. By the time he came home several months later, it was just a day-to-day struggle to survive. 

The newspaper writer said in the article that Dad was expected to make a full recovery. What he didn't know was the life long implications of the injuries he sustained. He had a broken back, 7 broken ribs, a collapsed lung, broken nose, and his left leg was crushed into fragments from mid-thigh to below the knee. I remember when they talked about putting dad in a full body cast because his injuries were so vast. Thankfully, they were able to treat him without that being the case. 

I remember feeling so sad for him when I went in to see him and saw his leg hanging from the metal contraption they had hanging from the ceiling. He had rods going through the bones in his leg that were connected by rods on the outside that were holding his leg up in traction. My dad was naturally a slender man, but during that time he became gaunt and frail, much more than his normal 39 year old self had ever been. 

Those first few days were only the beginning of how the wreck would change the course of the rest of all of our lives. Over the following years, dad would have nearly 30 pulmonary embolisms and commonly dealt with blood clots throughout his body due to poor circulation from his injuries. In one of his numerous surgeries after the wreck, he had a stimulator implanted into his back to control chronic pain and that metal box was there for the rest of his life. They removed much of the bone fragments in his left leg and fused what remained together. That shortened his left leg by 2 and 1/2 inches, which resulted and a severe limp. Over the years, his spine curved to compensate. 

Eventually the circulation issues led to 5 heart attacks and a stroke. Even in the last couple of years of his life he fought cellulitis in his left leg that was difficult to heal because of the lack of circulation. His left foot stayed swollen and sore most of the time.

Although dad suffered the rest of his life due to the impact of that day, so did the rest of the family. I remember many calls where Mom got up in the middle of the night to run to the hospital because Dad had fallen into a critical state again. Some of those nights, we had to go along because Mom was afraid she might not be back for a while. 

We practically grew up in hospital waiting rooms, eating out of the vending machines and mining for lost coins underneath the machines and in the coin return slots was what we did for fun!  We slept many nights on the vinyl and metal chairs in the waiting room at Indian Path Hospital and then went to school the next morning. I was often tardy or even absent from school altogether, putting me behind on my schoolwork a lot of the time. I missed 19 days of school that year.

All of those things are part of who I am today. With regular hospital stays, visits to Duke for specialized treatment and Mom having to tend to Dad when he was home in between events, we all learned very quickly that it wasn't about us. We learned to do for ourselves and to depend on each other. We managed our own homework, and all of us actually got good grades despite the rollercoaster we were on most days. We learned to cook our own meals too. We learned humility as we punched our free lunch card in the school cafeteria line due to Dad no longer being able to work. We learned to do without a lot during those days. Expensive name brands and having the latest/greatest still doesn't impress me to this day!

We definitely had more stress than children should have to go through, but that fateful day changed a lot of things for the good for us as well. What a lot of people didn't know at the time was, when my dad wrecked, he and Mom were in the process of a divorce. Dad had moved out, and the paperwork to finalize things would have come up in only a few days. This is where I can't help but think of the phrase I have so often heard: "But God."

Even through all the hard times, God was giving us the blessing of a simple life. As we all became comfortable with our new normal, we had many blessings that most kids will never experience. My dad was home when we got off the school bus in the afternoons. When he was able to cook, he cooked a southern feast of soup beans, cornbread, fried potatoes and homemade pineapple upside-down cake for dessert! We sat outside, swinging in the porch swing in the evenings. A few times when Mom was at the beauty shop, he played Atari with us, scrambling to get up and move before Mom caught him when she pulled into the garage! He sang with us songs I will never, ever forget. Froggy Went A-Courtin' and Let Us Have a Little Talk with Jesus were a couple of his favorites. We watched Little House on the Prairie, The Waltons, The Jeffersons and Gunsmoke while Dad popped popcorn in the fireplace. We had homemade Easter baskets every year, and stockings filled with candy and fruit. We always had a watermelon, Dad's favorite, on the 4th of July. We were never short on laughter when Dad was around with his quick wit and sense of humor.

As tragic as my dad's wreck was, that day had a powerful impact on our futures from then on. I often find myself thinking back to that day, wondering how different life would have been had it not happened. My parents would have likely been divorced, as young as they were would have probably remarried, and I would have had an entirely different life. One thing I know for sure: Mom and Dad deeply loved each other. As I watched my parents' dying days unravel, one thing that carried us all through was the knowledge of how deeply they loved and needed each other. 

I have always been aware that I think differently than a lot of people. A big part of my mindset was shaped that day. Even as a small child, I became acutely aware of how short life is, and how fast it can change. It taught me to never take a second for granted and to always try to treat people as though it might be the last time you see them, because you never know when that person walks out the door if that will be the last time you'll see them. It made me extremely loyal to those I love, and it made me learn to put their needs before my own. 

Those tough years, with Mom and Dad's marital problems before the wreck and Dad's health problems after, made me savor the "good days"-the days with no fussing and fighting and no pain and suffering- and soak them in, a feeling I still crave today. Just normal, ordinary days that are more precious than anything money can ever buy. That's all I needed then and that's all I strive for today- a simple life full of true blessings, the ones you can see so clearly when they are nearly taken away. What a wonderful thing it would be if we could understand that without the pain of the lesson first.

Article printed in the Bristol Herald Courier

Article printed in the Kingsport Times News

   Some homemade cards I made for Dad

Just off the plane, returning from another procedure at Duke

Dad arriving at Tri-Cities Airport  from Duke. The box attached to his belt was the control to the stimulator they implanted into his back

Broken Sis with a Broken Wrist

My family, with my big brother Kevin in the middle.

It's been a hard week. Actually, it's been a hard several weeks, but this past week takes the cake.

As I type this with one hand due to my broken right wrist, I am looking down at the cards and notes that have been sent to us this week. I am in awe of how loved we are and we didn't even know it. I am so thankful for friends and family who gathered around us in a time of need to hold us together. I'm thankful for friends who fed us and cleaned for us, and for money and gift cards for food and groceries that were collected to help replace my lost income. Each day I was met with kind and compassionate words through cards, texts, visits and phone calls. My goodness, how people have loved on us!

This awful saga began a few weeks ago just after a relaxing cabin trip with friends during fall break. We were cleaning up around the yard when I decided it would be a good idea to clean out the unused playhouse in our back yard. I carefully stepped inside the rope climbing ladder to reach further into the playhouse, gathered my arms full of things and then stepped back, one foot successfully and the other...well, not. As I was going down in what seemed like a slo-mo movie, I was actually thinking, "Don't put your hands down!", but apparently God thought it would be a great idea to wire us up to do just exactly that when we fall. So, at the very last minute, down went my right hand. "Crunnnccchhh!" I heard it. I felt it. I knew without a doubt that it was not only broken, but messed up badly. I sat there dreading to look, but I finally got my nerve up. It looked sort of like an accordion.

I actually had a question to God run through my mind right then: "Does this mean I am going to be needed by Mom and Dad?" I feared the worst was approaching. Dad had not been doing well for several weeks. Maybe I needed to be out of commission to be available to them? I had no idea how much they were going to need me.

A few days after my injury, I had surgery to repair my wrist. My oldest brother, Kevin, who lived about 3 hours away, called me. He said he was worried about me and wanted to help. He was coming the next weekend to take care of Mom and Dad's needs since I couldn't. He said while he was here that he wanted to cook us dinner and drop it by. He made us an enormous pan of baked spaghetti (one side without meat just for me!), complete with bread, salad and chocolate marble cheesecake for dessert. He hung around a few minutes when he came with the food and we talked. He talked about the lot he was grading down for the house he was building. He talked about his grandkids and what amazing things they say and do. He talked about Mom and Dad and funny things they said that day while he was there. It was just a normal visit, with normal conversation and a normal goodbye hug when he left. I watched him back his new truck down my driveway, and I cringed as I heard the hitch on the back scrape the pavement as he backed onto the road. I waved as he drove away, not knowing because of the darkness if he saw me or not. I saw the orange lights on the running boards of the truck. I admired how clean and shiny his trucks always are. That was the last time I saw him. As I type those words, I'm still in disbelief that I will never see my brother on this earth again.

The week after I saw him last, he would leave this world for eternity. Looking back, we can all see warning signs that he was pushing too hard..working incessantly and not getting enough rest, not taking care of his health like he should, pushing his body to it's limit. But, this is Kevin we are talking about. He has done that his entire life! What he did on the days leading up to his death was nothing different from any other day in his world. But on that day, November 8, 2018, his heart had reached it's breaking point. It simply stopped beating. And just like that, this man, this invincible, unstoppable man, was gone.

I had lost my big brother, and that is not something you can ever prepare to do. My parents, though, had lost a son. Their first son, the one they had when they were just newlywed teens living in Germany while my dad served in the Army. Their baby boy.

My dad had been declining for a couple of weeks before this tragedy struck our family. He was having such extreme back pain, possibly related to his pancreatic cancer, that he ended up in the emergency room and urgent care a couple of times in the weeks prior to Kevin's passing. He had been spending more and more time lying in bed, which is the only relief he could get from hurting.

My phone had rung at 7:00 am that Thursday morning. My sister said Kevin's wife, Valerie, heard him fall and ran to check on him. She quickly realized how serious the situation was, so she called for help and began CPR. Just a few minutes after we hung up, my sister called again. This time, all I heard was Marla screaming my name. I knew he was gone. My knees went weak. I froze for a while, trying to wrap my head around what I had just been told. My next thought was that I need to get to Mom and Dad.

They had already been told when I got there. Dad was lying on the bed crying, and mom was sitting in her recliner crying the "mom who has lost her child" cry. The rest of that day seems like one big blurry picture. All I really remember afterwards was that Dad was not doing well. His blood sugar reached over 600 and wouldn't respond to insulin. His blood pressure was out the roof. About 11:00 p.m., we headed to the ER.

After several doses of insulin and some monitoring, they let us leave about 5:30 a.m. I took Dad home and tucked him in bed. He was crying himself to sleep as I slipped out the door. I drove home and looked at the clock, realizing I had only an hour and a half until my post-op doctor's appointment to get my stitches out and a new cast on. I laid down wearing the clothes I had on, got up about 30 minutes later and headed out the door to my appointment.

The nurse cut off my splint and I saw my arm for the first time. Right then and there, the events of the past 24 hours spilled out of my heart. I lost it. I mean, I completely lost it. I think I scared the poor nurse to death. She thought I was afraid to have the stitches removed! She had no idea what the past day had been for me. The stitches were just the final straw that broke the camel's back.

For the next several days, my dad could hardly sit up. He wasn't able to stand without help. He wasn't able to walk, even on his walker, without help. He wouldn't eat. He laid in the bed in the only position he could that he didn't hurt. Mom cried on and off all day. Everywhere she looked there was a reminder of Kevin: the ceramic apple cookie jar on the top of the cabinet. The Donald Trump doll in the sunroom. The red can opener on the kitchen counter. The violet he carried in to her the last time he came. His mark is all over that house. He spent the last several years making sure they knew how much he loved them. 

I will quote our former pastor by saying, "Everybody's hurting." You never know what someone is going through. Life has a way of kicking you in the gut at times. Sometimes we just have to stand on up and keep going, even though our legs are collapsing underneath us, and sometimes we need to lie down in the middle of Stone Drive during lunchtime traffic because we can't take another step, and just pray we don't get run over.

Be kind. Be compassionate. Love on your neighbors, hold up your friends when they are weak. Feed them when they are hungry, and cry with them when they are sad.

Love your family and cherish every moment you spend together. Don't just live every day like it's your last..live it like it could be theirs. Life is short. Life is fleeting. Life is precious, every single one.

1 Peter 4:10(NIV)

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.

Galatians 6:2(NIV)
Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.

1 Peter 3:8(NIV)

Suffering for Doing Good

Finally, all of you, be like-minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble.

Dad to Three, Hero to Me

I am proud to say I am married to the World's Greatest Dad!

When Dave and I married 25 years ago, I knew he would be a good husband, but I really couldn't imagine what life with children would be like at that point. Then, just 2 and a half years later, we welcomed our first son.  Life as we knew it was forever changed!

During those newborn days, you sleep if and when you get a chance. Most babies are awake about every 2 hours for the first few weeks, and then several times a night for several months. Before having babies, I always envisioned being sound asleep and an alarm clock going off all throughout the night. I thought about having to wake up every couple of hours from a dead sleep and take care of a crying little person. I really dreaded that, as I am a "sleep diva". I don't function well with little or no sleep! God is merciful, though. It turns out, you never sleep that deeply again once you have a child, and you don't even have to think about it..you jump up to the task before your brain has even realized it's 3:00 a.m.!

Then there were the nights when the boys woke up sick...I mean really, really sick. Like, having to strip the bed, strip their clothes, start a load of laundry and put the baby in the tub at 3:00 a.m. kind of sick, sometimes multiple times in one night. On the flip side of that, we had a few nights where our sweet sons just felt good in the middle of the night and wanted to get up from bed and play at 3:00 a.m.!

As the boys got older, we had less of "those nights" and more of the "can't get them up in the morning" mornings! We were always scrambling around like crazy people trying to get out the door on time. We had clothes to iron, teeth to brush and hair to comb, making sure everyone was fed, had coats and shoes on and had whatever gear we needed for the day. We all piled in the van and backed out of the garage, and then often pulled back into the garage to retrieve the one thing we left behind. It was always a challenge to get out the door.

Once the boys were teens, we had to make difficult decisions about how much freedom to give and where to cut the strings of parenthood, allowing them the freedom they needed to become adults. They got jobs and girlfriends, and chose friends we didn't always know. They had cars and money of their own. They were beginning a life of decision-making and independence.

Now, we are 2/3 empty-nesting. Our house is very quiet now, compared to the previous 23 years. Two of our boys are on their own. We still have one left and are hanging on for dear life!!

It all has went really fast. I often think back to those years when our boys were young and how sweet those days were. One of the main reasons those years were so sweet was because of their dad. Even when I was pregnant, Dave leaned in at night and read Dr. Seuss books to my belly. When the babies were new, he was right there with me at the 3:00 a.m. feeding, bed-stripping, bath-giving, diaper-changing moments. Many times when I was about to my breaking point with exhaustion, he came in and sent me to bed and sat in the rocker with the baby.

Dave was the one carrying the baby around in a restaurant so I could eat. He was the one who drove up to the door at the grocery store so the baby and I didn't have to get wet in the rain. He was the one in the floor with them in the evenings, growling around on their bellies just to see them smile. He was also the one asleep on the couch with a baby on his chest.

When the boys played sports during their elementary school years, Dave was always their coach. When we had birthday parties for them, he was pouring drinks and handing out plates to the guests. When we finished dinner each evening, he spent time playing basketball in the driveway or football in the yard with the boys. He spent much of our yearly beach vacations playing in the pool or ocean with the boys.

 
 

He attended every game, play, concert and special event they had. He taught them how to tie a necktie and how to treat women with respect. When the boys were teens, he helped me know when to let them go and give them the freedom they needed to thrive. He was the voice of reason on what they were ready to handle and how far to let them go. Now that the two older boys are on their own, Dave spends many evenings and weekends helping them out with their cars and homes. He has taught them how to work on their cars and repair things around their houses.

As proud as I am of all these things, I'm most proud of the example Dave set for our boys of what a dad should be. He modeled hard work, unconditional love, sacrifice and what makes a man a "real" man. He showed them Jesus. He taught them to be honest and accountable. He gave them the gift of his time and attention..the most important things a dad can offer his sons. He freely hugged, encouraged, and lifted the boys up. He said 'I love you' often. He said 'I am proud of you' regularly. He still does. My boys have never known a time when they had to question their dad's love for them, and I am ever so thankful for that.

So when I say I'm married to the World's Greatest Dad, I know that my husband is a rare jewel of a dad. I am so thankful for him and the legacy he has created for my boys to someday follow once they are fathers themselves. He has given them the gift that keeps on giving for generations to come...a father's love, clothed in time, personal connection, and affection. When I look at my boys today, I'm proud to see a reflection of him shining through them. He's not just any dad..he's the greatest.

Like Sands Through the Hourglass, So are the Days of Our Lives

Today I had the privilege of giving haircuts to an elderly homebound couple whose daughter is a good friend of mine. They both had been in the hospital recently and both were in dire need of haircuts.

When I arrived at their home, a young lady was sitting in as a caretaker for the couple. Their daughter, granddaughter and I walked in and their faces seemed to light up at the monotony being broken for the day. We talked for a moment and then came up with a plan for how to set up shop around the furniture, using a wheelchair as a shop chair.

As I worked away cutting the little lady's long silver locks into a spunky layered bob, I couldn't help but notice how much life had happened around them in years past. Pictures adorned the walls in the living room and down the hallway, family photos of children and grandchildren. Some of the pictures were from many years ago, when their daughter and her siblings were children. Others were more recent, with their adult children holding babies of their own.

There was a shadow box on the wall that contained several medals and some dog tags from the man's days in the army. As I cut his hair, he told me a little about being sent to Korea as a young man, and about how cold it was there. He also told me that most years since then he has cut his own hair, then proudly showed me his little razor-comb that he bought for a dollar many years ago. As I snipped away, Bonanza played on the television in front of us.

I thought a lot about my own aging parents while I was there, and I also imagined what it will be like when my day comes to be in their shoes. The pictures on the wall, the medals proudly displayed..those are reminders of the life that once was: A house full of children and playful days, hard times raising a family, getting up to go to work every day. School buses dropping off the kids in front of the house, dinner on the stove and laundry hanging on the line.

Those are the days of our lives. Those are the days we think will always be, until one day, when our bodies tire out and we sit down to rest and then realize how fast it all went by us. How blessed are the normal days, the days we have the ability to mow our yards, take a walk in the neighborhood, wash our cars and play with our kids. How blessed is the life we have now, each minute of every day that God Himself has afforded us. How blessed.

Psalm 73:26 (NIV)

    My flesh and my heart may fail,

    but God is the strength of my heart

    and my portion forever.

Remember Not to Forget

I often think about my "starting out" years, when I graduated high school and set out to make my own way in life. I remember thinking, "I can't believe it! I have MY OWN PLACE!" 

Looking back on that time, I realize now how little I had, but at the time I felt like I had hit the jackpot! My favorite place I lived during those years starting out was a little 2 bedroom apartment that was situated over top of a small business. It was only a few years old at that time and even though it was tiny, it was plenty big enough for just me.

I had 2 hand-me-down Archie Bunker style chairs and 2 homemade end tables my dad built with old Wendy's restaurant table tops (remember the Formica tables they had with old newspaper articles on them?!). I bought a small metal and glass table and chairs set for my kitchen for $88 at Big Lots, and I had a bed that my parents let me take from home. I bought a television and VCR on credit from Montgomery Ward that took me 2 years to pay off. That's all I had to my name!

I remember balancing my money carefully so I could be sure to have my $200 rent money each month. I stuck $50 per week back and pretended it wasn't there so I wouldn't be stressed when rent was due. A couple of times a year I had a 5-week month, so I had an extra $50 to go shopping!! I would hit the Hill's Department Store clearance rack for some new clothes!!

During those days, I worked holidays, weekends...pretty much any time I could. I actually worked with a woman who resented and made fun of me for wanting to work on holidays, because if one of us wanted to work, that meant the hair salon I worked in would be open that day, which also meant she would have to be there to answer the phone. She was none too happy about it, and she made that perfectly clear to me every time that happened!

That receptionist had no idea how much I would have loved to have  taken the day off myself, but working on straight commission meant I had to work just to make enough to pay my bills each month. It wasn't that I was just greedy or that I liked nice things and wanted money for extras...I had to work to support myself.

Today, as I write this, I am sitting in my home, comfortable and warm, much more generously furnished than that little apartment from years ago. I didn't have to work in my shop today, so I spent the day cleaning my house and catching up laundry and other odd and end things that needed done around here.

It's days like this that I find myself reminiscing about those apartment years, not because I miss them by any means, but because I don't want to ever forget them. When I am cleaning my house, I think back to never believing I could ever actually have a house..a real house with a yard and everything!!  I also couldn't believe I would ever find someone to love me, but my life has been filled with more love than I thought possible by my husband and 3 sons. My heart is overwhelmed with gratitude every time I reflect back on my starting out years. I have been blessed so much more than I ever imagined, and certainly more than I ever deserved.

I never want to forget being a lonely heart, living alone and barely scraping by. It's because of those years that I can see how God has blessed me! I see His hand on everything I own and I see how even when I didn't know how to move forward, God was orchestrating a path for me. I often am reminded of Jeremiah 29:11(NIV):

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Thank you, Lord, for furniture to dust, that means You planned for me to have furniture to fill my home! Thank you for dishes to wash, that means You made sure I had a meal! Thank you for laundry, that means You clothed me! Thank you for electric bills, water bills and taxes, that means You gave me a nice, warm home with modern conveniences to keep me comfortable! Thank you for handprints, crumbs and things left lying around, and for the people who live here that leave their marks on our home, because at the end of the day, they are my greatest blessings!

Help me remember to never forget, Lord. Help me remember!!