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.

It's a Short Life After All

Portrait of Dad and Me

Looking back on life, I've known many sweet souls who have finished this race on earth and have gone on to eternity. I still think often of each of my grandparents, and I remember going through the final days with all of them.

At the time, from my younger perspective, I remember being at peace with the idea of death, especially when someone has been blessed to live so many years. What a blessing to get to raise your children, see them establish their own lives and families, and to have the privilege of living to old age.

Now, I'm watching as my dad faces his final days, weeks or months here in this life. For some reason, it doesn't feel so natural for someone to die this time. Don't get me wrong, my dad is a Christian. We have had many sweet conversations about his faith and I know he will be in Heaven, so in that way I will be thankful when his suffering here is over!

I hope it's a long while before the cancer my dad is fighting gets the better of him, but realistically, he has already outlived the typical lifespan after diagnosis. Most make it 3 to 6 months with pancreatic cancer. Dad was diagnosed 10 months ago. Every day is bonus time.

The hardest part about this impending transition from earth to Heaven is the fact that my dad doesn't feel finished here. He says all the time, "I'm ready to go, but I'm just not ready to go." I think it would be easier if he was tired and wanted to go, but it breaks my heart that he still wants so desperately to live.

Life is just so, so fast. I remember as a child trying to imagine being an adult. I imagined being married and having kids, and that seemed so far away at the time. Now, here I am, all that accomplished and heading quickly toward retirement age myself, and the thoughts of dreaming about my future when I was a child still don't seem that long ago. I think about the times that my grandparents died, my parents were around my age now, and like a flash of lightening, here I am in those same shoes. Just as quickly, my kids will stand here too. Life is so fast.

I asked Dad one day to imagine he didn't know his actual age, and if he didn't know, how old he feels like He should be. He is 81 in actual years, but when he thought about it, he said he feels around 60. I am 52, and when I think how old I feel like I should be, I feel around 30. It's not like we actually feel physically like we did at those younger ages, it's that the mind can't comprehend that those years have passed and that we actually are that old. It doesn't seem possible that so much of our lives is spent, gone away and never to be had again.

I was having this discussion with a customer last week. She was saying she always thought if we get to live into our 80s we are blessed. I agree, we are! But when you are the one facing death in your 80s and you only feel 60, you feel sort of cheated. You feel like there's more life to be had, more things you want to do, more things you want to experience.

I have noticed that Dad's mindset hasn't changed, despite his failing body. He still knows how to do things and he still has a desire to do them, but his body won't allow him to do much anymore. He feels useless and frustrated. He tries so hard to keep going and to still do what he can, but there's so much he just can't do anymore. He has days when the thought of his looming death seems to haunt him. I see him feeling depressed and sad much of the time...contrary to his usual witty, energetic self. When he does have a good day, we make the most of it.

Life is just so, so fast. Slow down, enjoy every minute. Even the bad times don't last forever. Focus on the blessings you have right in front of you at this minute. Thank God for blessings you had, the blessings you have and the blessings you will have. All are sweet, and all are fleeting.

Thank God for His promise that those of us who accept Him in our hearts will be together in eternity forever. No more cancer, no more sadness, no more fear. Knowing this in my heart is all that keeps me going. I thank God for this hope of Heaven.

If you or someone you love is suffering tonight and you don't have this promise, please don't wait. Call on Jesus. This crazy place is a trial run..a big, ol', sometimes cruddy, sometimes wonderful, trial run. This is not all there is! Make sure your salvation is firmly rooted in Christ. Speak to those you love about Him. Make sure when you stand in these shoes that you know it's not goodbye forever. You don't have long. Life is so, so fast.

Romans 10:9
If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.

Revelation 21:1-7

Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them.They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!”Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children.

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.