I haven't been to Sunday School or Relief Society for about two months. Because my mom's sacrament meeting is at 11 a.m. I've been going to her rehab center to take her to church. That has made me miss my own meetings. Today my sister went to church with my mom (thanks Sissy!) so I got to go to part of my meetings. I missed my own sacrament meeting because of a stake meeting (so my Sundays are pretty crazy, see?) but I took the sacrament at 11 in another ward in our building. So in between all of this I got to go to about 20 minutes of Sunday School and about 3/4 of Relief Society. I sat in both meetings realizing I have missed not only the instruction but the edification that small bits of these meetings provide, whether by the teacher, people's comments or the Spirit.
I'm a fidgety person and it's hard for me to pay attention sometimes but ... what was I saying? Oh, anyway, today made me realize I really love having the opportunity to at least be fidgety while trying to discern something spiritual to use in my life. I think Heavenly Father has a lot to tell each of us and if we aren't where we can get the messages, we are going to lose out on valuable life instructions. I'm pretty sure He understands my need to serve my mom right now but I'll try harder to get to my other meetings so I don't miss what's there just for me.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The return of Heiva
Our lost cat Heiva, (AKA Harvey) came home this morning. Heiva is known to wander the neighborhood at night and come home in the morning but last Saturday she didn't come home. We worried for a few days, then I started walking the roads, checking for a body, calling her name. Brandy mentioned yesterday we should look at the pound so Amy and I did that, but no Heiva. Amy said she knows if a pet has died - she actually knew Notch had died last June before we told her. And she didn't think Heiva was dead.
This morning Riley found her on the back doorstep. She's a little thinner, has a few wounds on her nose and belly and her front claws are worn down. She must have been in someone's shed or garage and tried to get out. Maybe someone in our ward checked after I emailed the whole ward her picture and that she was missing. She's a lovey cat, happily sleeping curled up on our bed, not even minding that Lupita's tail is touching her. She normally hates Lupita. Maybe she's just content to be back home.
This morning Riley found her on the back doorstep. She's a little thinner, has a few wounds on her nose and belly and her front claws are worn down. She must have been in someone's shed or garage and tried to get out. Maybe someone in our ward checked after I emailed the whole ward her picture and that she was missing. She's a lovey cat, happily sleeping curled up on our bed, not even minding that Lupita's tail is touching her. She normally hates Lupita. Maybe she's just content to be back home.
Monday, October 19, 2009
The good, the bad and the ugly
The good:
My mom is doing better. She and I sat in the porch swing at her house yesterday for almost two hours.
I love fall. Our leaves are falling.
It's Monday. I love my job.
I'm going to make brownies. And share them.
I got to see all my kids yesterday. They are good kids.
The good list is longer than the bad and the ugly lists. Positive thinking.
The bad:
Heiva is missing. I need to put up "Lost cat" posters.
The ugly:
A box elder bug flew down my shirt this weekend. Gross.
Somebody smashed a pumpkin in the road in front of our house. Even more gross.
Lupita played outside with a dead mouse last night. Thoroughly disgusting.
My mom is doing better. She and I sat in the porch swing at her house yesterday for almost two hours.
I love fall. Our leaves are falling.
It's Monday. I love my job.
I'm going to make brownies. And share them.
I got to see all my kids yesterday. They are good kids.
The good list is longer than the bad and the ugly lists. Positive thinking.
The bad:
Heiva is missing. I need to put up "Lost cat" posters.
The ugly:
A box elder bug flew down my shirt this weekend. Gross.
Somebody smashed a pumpkin in the road in front of our house. Even more gross.
Lupita played outside with a dead mouse last night. Thoroughly disgusting.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
I Stand All Amazed
I got to go to our stake conference today. I haven't been to church much lately because of my mom's needs. It was so nice to listen to uplifting talks and beautiful music. One song in particular, brought tears to my eyes. And down my cheeks. And onto my dress. It was a beautiful reminder that in the middle of even the most trying times, our Savior is there for us. The choir sang "I Stand All Amazed," and the words sank into my heart one at a time. I know he died for me and that anything I have to face that's hard, he has already faced it for me.
I decided today I would write some things that I stand all amazed at:
~the colorful changing fall leaves
~medical knowledge
~the love and support of family and friends
~gospel principals that bring nothing but happiness
~the excitement of my great-nephews looking at a Jerusalem beetle and a scorpion with Riley
~that I have an incredible job where I get to interact with bright young students
~hot chocolate chip cookies out of the oven
It's a good life. An amazing life.
I decided today I would write some things that I stand all amazed at:
~the colorful changing fall leaves
~medical knowledge
~the love and support of family and friends
~gospel principals that bring nothing but happiness
~the excitement of my great-nephews looking at a Jerusalem beetle and a scorpion with Riley
~that I have an incredible job where I get to interact with bright young students
~hot chocolate chip cookies out of the oven
It's a good life. An amazing life.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Crappy day!
So I guess I'll follow up happy day with crappy day. My mom is losing ground again. She lost the weight she had gained and another nine pounds. She's on an IV. She doesn't want to eat or get out of bed. Since she's at a rehab center they will probably tell us, sooner than later, that she can't be there anymore. If you aren't making progress Medicare won't pay.
I look at my mom and wonder how old age creeps in so efficiently. Her hearing is worse. She can't see hardly at all. She can't get up by herself. I try to imagine what she is going through.
I remember coming home from a waterpark in Texas and having an ear infection for the next few days. Sounds were garbled, like I was underwater. I think of how things must sound like this to her now and how frustrating it is to be left out, to lose the clarity of mundane things like traffic and the sweetness of children's laughter. I have, in the past few years, had a few panic attacks -- mostly at night in the dark where I couldn't see. I anxiously looked for anything to bring light to my face - even the glowing dial of my watch. She stares at pictures or things on her plate and tries to make sense of it. I cry when I remember the joy she felt watching sunsets, looking at roses, or even watching Animal Planet. I wonder if, like my panic attacks, she grasps for something to come into focus to settle her fear. She keeps her eyes closed a lot now.
When I had my babies I remember trying to get out of bed the first time with wobbly legs, leaning on someone to help me to the bathroom. I didn't like being dependent on someone but I knew it was temporary. My mom trembles as she stands, fumbling for something to find to steady her. It's not temporary.
The way she is now fills my mind and my thoughts on a daily basis. I search the recesses of my heart to remember what she used to sound like when she'd call and say, "run to the window and look at the GORGEOUS sunset," always saying the word gorgeous in a exaggerated way. My kids even know how to do it. I'd call her, saying something like, "Maybelline Marblehammer?" She'd respond, "Gladys Pipsqueak?" and we'd laugh. Sometimes the first name was so silly we couldn't get to the second one, we'd be cracking up too much. I think of her pulling into her driveway in her car, grabbing bags to bring in and I'd fake hide as she came in the door, having just vacuumed her house. She'd seek me out and we'd laugh. We sat for hours at her kitchen table talking about everything important and unimportant - usually laughing about goofy things.
I get angry about this situation. I don't see how it can be fair for someone who gave and loved so freely for 79 years to now have to deal with pain, suffering and feebleness. Then I realize she had 79 good years, bumps and bruises here and there, but still, 79 years. If it were to truly be fair she would have had half a life of sweet joy and half a life of crap. That we've only had nine months of hardship is really a blessing. It's just hard to see it that way sometimes.
I look at my mom and wonder how old age creeps in so efficiently. Her hearing is worse. She can't see hardly at all. She can't get up by herself. I try to imagine what she is going through.
I remember coming home from a waterpark in Texas and having an ear infection for the next few days. Sounds were garbled, like I was underwater. I think of how things must sound like this to her now and how frustrating it is to be left out, to lose the clarity of mundane things like traffic and the sweetness of children's laughter. I have, in the past few years, had a few panic attacks -- mostly at night in the dark where I couldn't see. I anxiously looked for anything to bring light to my face - even the glowing dial of my watch. She stares at pictures or things on her plate and tries to make sense of it. I cry when I remember the joy she felt watching sunsets, looking at roses, or even watching Animal Planet. I wonder if, like my panic attacks, she grasps for something to come into focus to settle her fear. She keeps her eyes closed a lot now.
When I had my babies I remember trying to get out of bed the first time with wobbly legs, leaning on someone to help me to the bathroom. I didn't like being dependent on someone but I knew it was temporary. My mom trembles as she stands, fumbling for something to find to steady her. It's not temporary.
The way she is now fills my mind and my thoughts on a daily basis. I search the recesses of my heart to remember what she used to sound like when she'd call and say, "run to the window and look at the GORGEOUS sunset," always saying the word gorgeous in a exaggerated way. My kids even know how to do it. I'd call her, saying something like, "Maybelline Marblehammer?" She'd respond, "Gladys Pipsqueak?" and we'd laugh. Sometimes the first name was so silly we couldn't get to the second one, we'd be cracking up too much. I think of her pulling into her driveway in her car, grabbing bags to bring in and I'd fake hide as she came in the door, having just vacuumed her house. She'd seek me out and we'd laugh. We sat for hours at her kitchen table talking about everything important and unimportant - usually laughing about goofy things.
I get angry about this situation. I don't see how it can be fair for someone who gave and loved so freely for 79 years to now have to deal with pain, suffering and feebleness. Then I realize she had 79 good years, bumps and bruises here and there, but still, 79 years. If it were to truly be fair she would have had half a life of sweet joy and half a life of crap. That we've only had nine months of hardship is really a blessing. It's just hard to see it that way sometimes.
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