Here Coach...

Funny thing happened after we woke up today. We ended up with a new coach for team Hassett. Sigh. It all started last night when we were reminiscing with a friend of ours that was over for Monday Night Football about our old dog Bart. Then of course, the conversation bended towards Igloo. We laughed as we recalled good times with them both. It was the first time that I was able to do that without the tears welling up in my eyes. Up until now, it just hurt too much even though it has been year and a half since Igloo died.

After our friend left, we continued to talk bout how it would be nice to have a dog again someday and what kind, color and size, etc., then we went to bed. This morning I decided to clean out some folders off of my computer and came across the little movie I made after Igloo died. As I was watching it and tears were streaming down my face, I felt like he was telling me that it was ok if we moved on. It was almost as if he was releasing my heart to love a pup again. I didn't say anything to Oliver about it and just went and got on facebook, like I do every day (yeah, yeah, I know). Lo and behold there was a post from one of my friends who was looking to give away a 15 month old dog because she just felt they didn't have the time for him like he needed.

Well, I guess I don't need to tell you what happened next. Tonight she brought him by to meet us and that's all she wrote. We both fell head over heels for this little bundle of fur. He came with the name of Lucky but it just didn't seem to fit him - at least to us - and he wasn't really responding to it anyway. We tossed names around (I kinda liked Ditka but y'all know that any reference to a Chicago Bears team was not going to fly with Oliver) and finally we both agreed on Coach. We figured he'll probably be calling the shots around here anyway. He is adorable - white with tan spots, the exact coloring and size that we had talked about last night. Some kind of Spaniel mix and very mild mannered. He's quickly making himself at home and quite frankly, it feels like he's been part of the family all along.

He's pretty quiet. We did find out that he has a voice when he found himself in the mirror of the curio cabinet... lol. Guess he thought he had a playmate for a minute. Oliver went out to the shed and found an old collar and leash that I had, for whatever reason, kept in my memory box. He is now adorned in Husker red with a red leash and he's looking quite dapper if I do say so myself. I still want to give him a bath tomorrow and clean him up a bit before taking pictures but I will post them soon. He has already taken dad for a walk and he said that dad did just fine on his end of the leash (and no, I am not a dog whisperer, it's just his eyes speak volumes). Needless to say, we're dog parents again and it just feels right. If you would have asked me two days ago about getting a dog, I'd have still said "no way". But God had other ideas and we're just thinking that He knew all along that we all would need each other. Funny how He works that way. Ok, Coach, what are we gonna do next?

Post note: Coach didn't stick... as it turns out, everytime he went to get into something, I would say, "oh no, sorry Charlie" and guess what? Yep he started responding to Charlie... so Charlie it is and quite frankly - it fits. : ) <3

Perfect Peace

It's the wee, wee hours on Christmas Eve. Soon stores will be opening to usher in those procrastinators who have waited until the last minute to find the perfect gift for their loved ones. That has never been my style. I watch for the bargains all year long and usually am fully finished by now. This year was no different. Oh we did a little crowd bashing last week but that was enough. How that actually gets people into the spirit is beyond me. It wants to zap the spirit right out of my life. But that's ok, we're all cast from a different cloth.

Tonight I've been a bit teary-eyed. Not only waxing nostalgic over Christmas' past but realizing that according to the doctors, this very well could be my last. Am I working harder to make it special because of this? Nope, not at all. If anything, I'm more "here" in the everyday things and trying to find the joy in each moment. To laugh at the flour all over the counters and floors from our cookie-baking "experiment", to not stress when dinner got served at 9 pm instead of the usual senior time of 4 pm to which we've become accustomed. Presents wrapped? Nope, not yet. Actually I have to remember where I hid them first and that might take awhile. I got the Christmas cards out the other day to start working on them and here it is Christmas Eve and the first one isn't even signed yet. Oh well, I'll get them done and God willing, everyone will get theirs before April Fools' Day. I'm not stressing about it. You see, I'm enjoying everything that's going right but especially those little things that just seem to go wrong.

I'm also remembering that there are many, many of my friends who lost loved ones unexpectedly this year and my heart hurts for them. I remember all too well the raw nerves exposed during this time after the departure of a loved one. The pain can sometimes be unbearable and the tears hot enough to burn tracks down your face. I know, I've been there. This will not be a happy Christmas for them. They will hurt but they will find that God can and will use it in His own way. They will in turn be more appreciative of the little details and not stress over them quite so much. They'll work hard to try and remember the details from last year - those same details that they would have emblazoned in their memory had they only known it would be the last as the status quo.

It's funny how hearing that the end is near for me has turned out to be one of the greatest gifts, odd as that may sound. It truly is a gift that I didn't know I wanted and yet have come to love. It's a gift that keeps on giving. My perspective on life has changed. It has in turn multiplied into other gifts that I didn't know I wanted and yet am cherishing none-the-less. I've received the gift of peace. There is a peace in my spirit that carries me along each day. It has given me the gift of tears - both happy and sad. Sad because I may never spend a Christmas with my family and friends again on this earth and yet happy knowing that soon I will spend time with people that I have loved, who have loved me, that I haven't even seen in a long, long time. I miss them and am looking forward to eternity to catch up with them. I've received the gift of rest. This ol' body can't do the things I used to be able to do, so I'm forced to sit on the sidelines and let the "new team" take over and you know what? that's been a blessing in itself. Not many people get to sit down and watch the preparations as they unfold and seeing people who have always just known "it" was done realize that there is a whole lot more that goes into than they thought. There is the gift of satisfaction of having had a full life, even if it hasn't been long enough.

All of us are surrounded by gifts from our Father everyday. My hope and prayer for you is that you take the time out to slow down, look around, and take it all in. I can guarantee you there are people that will be gathering for their Christmas dinner with empty seats at the table who will be wishing they had done that last year. Their time is up. The landscape of their family has changed forever. Never in a million years did they see it coming and yet that's the reality they are forced to face this year and for years to come. There will be tears, there will be hearts aching, but there in the midst of all that pain, will come a peace that surpasses all understanding and that peace will come because of a baby born in a stable over 2000 years ago. Please don't wait for disaster to hit your family before you give yourself a "time-out". Take it, use it wisely and enjoy all the gifts that have come out of the one ultimate gift that can be passed along. The gift of eternal life through Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Merry Christmas to you and yours. May your new sense of reflection and being "aware" last far beyond the holidays and carry you throughout next year. My prayer is that all your seats are full at your dinner table and that all your memories be made from pleasant ones but if you just so happen to have tragedy befall you, my prayer is that you receive that gift of peace that was bought and paid for at the cross. It's one of the sweetest gifts I've ever known. Merry Christmas and God Bless you with His perfect peace. Love y'all.

A Bit Discouraged

Once again I was denied disability from Social Security. This time it wasn't because they don't think I'm sick enough to qualify but because I haven't gotten enough credits in recent years to qualify. So because I've been too sick to work and they thought that I wasn't sick enough when they deinied me last time, I'm just out of luck. Go figure. Had I gotten the correct diagnosis when I applied the last time, all of this would be a moot point. Now they're telling me that I'm not eligible until I'm 62 and according to the doctors, I won't live that long. It's not so much the money itself (although that would certainly help) but it's the fact that I cannot get any help with insurance, medications or medical expenses without being declared disabled by Social Security. It's a catch-22 and I'm losing big time.

It's disappointing because I have worked hard all my life. I got my first job at 15 and worked up until I could no more. I played by the rules and those rules are doing nothing but shutting me out now. They are also saying I don't qualify for SSI because Oliver makes too much in Social Security. Excuse me? That doesn't even cover our mortgage. sigh...

So as it stands right now, my COBRA insurance will be ending in March with no possibliity of extending since I can't get qualified as disabled under Social Security, I have no way of bringing in any income that I have been able to maintain, I will automatically be disqualified from getting on the transplant list because I will have no insurance and basically I'm screwed through no wrongdoing on my part. Yeah, I'm discouraged but for some reason I still have hope. It's that feeling of hope that drives me to wake up each morning and get out of bed. Somehow I just know deep down in my spirit that God has it all worked out. I just can't see it now and in the natural, things are looking pretty bleak.

As I sit here and look at our Christmas tree and this beautiful house that God blessed us with, I can't help but wonder how much longer I'll be able to enjoy it. I just don't know but I do know that tonight I will be able to see the white lights shine on the tree, turn on our little electric fireplace that also is a heater and have a nice cup of hot chocolate. So for tonight, all is alright. Do I think about tomorrow, oh yeah, but I can't worry about it. Do I cry, you betcha, but I know that each tear I shed is being caught by a loving Father who has it all worked out. I just have to remember that. Some days I do but then there are those moments when my all to human nature kicks in and I start to fret.

I don't know why life has always had to be so doggone difficult for me. I don't understand why I have had to struggle for some of the very basics that mose people take for granted. But I do know that God chose me to walk this path and all I can do is walk it out the best that I know how - with Him by my side. Life didn't turn out the way I dreamed it would but I have always tried to play, to the best of my ability, the hand that I've been dealt. Sometimes I win the game and sometimes I don't, but I always belly up to the table for another round. So dealer, hit me... and let's get on with this game called life.

Chat with the Lung Transplant Doc

Sorry this has taken so long to get out... I've been a bit overwhelmed by it all and quite frankly have just been hiding out in Farmville and FarmTown. The visit itself went well. We both really liked Dr. Shah and she's a straight-shooter, which I especially appreciate. There were no slam-dunk answers that came out of this meeting though. So if you're wanting to know whether or not I will be listed for a lung transplant, the honest answer is that we just don't know yet. One thing she was able to say with certainty is that she doesn't believe that I have the most aggressive form of the disease, nor do I have the least aggressive form - I fall somewhere in between. That gave me a little better prognosis than if I had the most aggressive form but a little worse than they had originally diagnosed me with in Chicago. Right now, if things continue at the trajectory they are at, I will not live 5 more years but possibly 3, best case scenario and I am not serious enough that I need to be listed immediately. We do have some time.

For now, everything is on hold until the end of January. I went through a battery of tests last week and something of concern showed up on the CT scan regarding my heart. They will be doing further testing of that in January and we'll know more then whether I will be a good candidate for a transplant - medically anyway. The only thing I really need to work on that I have ANY control over is losing about 50 pounds. Actually that should be easier since they are weaning me off of one of the meds that cause weight gain. We discussed the anti-rejection meds and my reaction to the higher doses, and while it's not ideal, she believes we can manage with lower doses that my body can withstand.

The fact that I have AB Negative blood turned out to not be as big of an issue as originally thought, so that was good news. The heart issues are hopefully nothing serious enough to keep me off the transplant list and something that can be fixed, or bad enough to add me to a heart/lung transplant list and that will place me high on the UNOS list. Won't know any more about that until after the further testing.

That's the medical side of things... then there is the insurance. It turns out that the insurance that I have (Aetna) will not cover a transplant done at Vanderbilt. Good news is that this is open enrollment month and I was able to call today and switch over to United Healthcare, which does cover Vanderbilt, so that was a major hurdle that God answered in His perfect timing. Then again, before you start jumping for joy, I only have COBRA coverage until March and it is very, very expensive. We actually have to stop paying our mortgage to cover it, but after talking, prayer and fasting, that is exactly what we are going to do for now. Regardless, I need the insurance for as long as I can get it.

As far as whether I am going to go ahead with moving towards a transplant is a very gray area and one that is causing me the most angst. This is where I really need my praying friends to stand in the gap for me. There is a lot to having a transplant besides just the major surgery that it is. For one thing there is the cost - even with insurance. Then, if I do get listed, I have to stay within 4 hours of Vanderbilt at all times, which means traveling to visit the kids or anything is out for however long I am listed, in case a lung comes in. The wait could be days or years, if one comes up at all. Most people die waiting. If for some reason I do get a transplant, I would be in the hospital for 2-4 weeks and then we would have to move to Nashville for at least 3-6 months and live within 15 minutes of Vanderbilt. Now if I have to live in a city, I have to admit that Nashville is exactly where I'd want to be. If we can sell the house, that won't be as big of an issue as it will be if we can't. Even in the best of times, we couldn't afford both and with the economy the way it is now, we're not sure we'll be able to sell the house at all. Also, Oliver would NOT be able to work as he would have to be with me round the clock for my care. The greatest risks would be infection or rejection and the first year is the hardest. Even with the transplant, the average life expectancy is only 5 years and most of that will be spent in a medical setting. Right now, I have a one to three year life expectancy from the lung disease itself and at anytime one or more of my organs can just shut down because they are not getting the oxygen they need to function. It would be a lot to go through for not a lot of payback. And of course, there are no guarantees that I would even make it off the operating table.

Some days I feel like forging full steam ahead and going for it and other days I don't think it's worth it. Most days I'm caught somewhere in between, feeling like I'm reading a novel of someone else's life and expecting to find all the answers in the next chapter, all neatly bundled together. I do a lot of praying, a little crying, and a whole lot of escaping... That's where Farmville and FarmTown have come in handy. There I can control my environment and if I don't lilke something, erase it and start over. If only life had a delete button.

A few years back I applied for disability and was denied. Now they are saying that I cannot reapply until I am 65 because I have not worked enough quarters in the last 10 years. I will not live until 65. The ONLY chance I have at getting the insurance to continue is if I can get disability. So, I am going to see a lawyer to fight for it. I really need God's favor here. Without it, all chances are right out the window of this even being a possibility. So my life literally will depend on someone in the government making the decision... at least for now. I'm sure I don't even need to tell you what that does to my stomach when I think about it. Ugh.

Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis is a nasty disease. It literally sucks the breath right out of you. If my organs hold up, I can look forward to basically suffocating to death. I have to admit that while I am not afraid of dying itself, suffocating scares the daylights out of me. I try not to think about it too much but it's kind of hard not to when I'm gasping for breath at the least little bit of exertion. Some days I can almost feel my body starting to shut down. Other days I feel like I can live forever, but I have to admit that those days are becoming fewer and farther between. I am overwhelmed by all of this. I remember when I was younger and contemplated what I would do if I were in a situation where I had to make a decision just like this. At that time I thought I knew all the answers and knew what I would do. Now that I am at that crossroads, the answers are not so clear.

If I had a choice in all this, I'd choose for none of this to have happened. I admit that most days I don't even know what to pray for. In order to even have a transplant, someone else would have to die. I cannot pray for that on the best of days. I, for one, know without a doubt where I am going when I leave this earth. I cannot say the same for the person who would be the donor. I have been through so much medically in my lifetime that I am all too aware of how difficult it would be on me and others if I were to take the transplant route and I'm not sure I really want to go through all that given the time I would gain. At what cost? - emotionally, monetarily, physically, relationally, etc. The costs are so high. I am also not a quitter. I am not ready to let this disease win without fighting it with all that I have. If my going through with it all will help them find answers to help someone else down the road, then who am I not to let them do that? It's all so confusing.

Anyway, I know a lot of you have been asking how things went and believe me, as long as this blog is, it really is the short version. There is soooo much more involved that I didn't even address. These were the main issues though. I am glad that I get a little break from it and don't have to decide one way or another until after the holidays. I'm looking forward to enjoying the decorations and hub bub coming up and just taking it all in. I can't do too much myself, but at least my mind is still intact to be able to supervise for what could be the last time. And y'all know I'm still pretty good at that.

I have been blessed in my life and I have no regrets. I wasn't supposed to live after I gave birth to Dan and yet here I am 31 years later and still going relatively strong. I have outlived the age my mother was when she died and that has been a lifelong answer to prayer. My prayer now is that when my time is up, that I get to go peacefully, preferably in my sleep and that I won't have to be a big burden on anyone for my everyday care - meaning I don't want anyone to have to change diapers on me. I know that sounds stupid, but hey, it's how I feel.

If you take anything away from all this, please take care of your bodies and take time to savor every moment of your life - good times and bad. While what I have is not due to any choices that I made in life, I realize that if I had taken better care of myself, I might have had a few more options available to me. As hard as all this is, I have to say that there has been a lot of blessings in it too. I truly have had to take time to smell the roses and learned to appreciate all those little moments in life that really do mean so much. Too many people zoom through life not even paying attention until it's too late. I have become a calmer person and much more appreciative of the small things in life. My pain level is not so great that it isn't managed pretty much with medications. There are days when even those don't seem to help much but most days I make it through just fine. I thank God for the doctors and the medications each day. Without them both, I would not be here today. I thank God for the people in my life that make my life even worth living. A lot of them I am only in contact with here on facebook but they still make my heart smile and I love them for that. There's a good chance you're one of them and I thank-you very much. ((hugs))

Please continue to pray and know that each prayer brings me a peace through all of this. Despite the difficult circumstances, I still find reason to smile and even laugh every day. Without those prayers, I wouldn't be able to. I can't tell you what to pray for because I really don't know myself. I guess my best recommendation is that you pray that I stay in God's will and am able to hear His direction, leading me in the way He wants me to go. Of course, please continue to pray for Oliver. While I am pretty good at hiding my illness from everyone else for the short times that I am out of the house, he is stuck here with me day in and day out. It is stressful on him because he can't fix it or make it better. Oh and can you please pray that Publishers Clearing House comes to our house the end of the month? Hey, it's worth a shot... LOL Thanks for everything. Love y'all. <3 <3 <3

I Saw Jesus Today

Yep, I really saw Jesus today. No, I didn't see a robe-clad, sandal-wearing, long-hair image of Him but I did see Him. I saw Him when I got to church and a nice gentleman opened the door for us with a smile - and funny thing was, it was our turn to greet, he was just there before us and did it anyway. I saw Him in the bright, expectant eyes of a little girl heading to children's church to hear a new Bible story. I saw Him in the excited eyes of a college student who attended orientation yesterday and is heading down a new path. I saw Him in the proud look of a mother on that same student.

I saw Him in the forlorn eyes of a widow, who was feeling lonely and down. I saw Him in the gentle hug of one friend comforting another. I heard Him in the kind words of encouragement being shared between people. I saw Him in the eyes of a lady facing a biopsy this week as she struggled between fear and resting in Him. I saw Him in the flicker of hope of someone who is straddling the fence on whether to follow Him or follow the world. I saw and heard Him in the eyes and voices of the worship team as they brought us before His throne. I saw and heard Him in the face and the words of the Pastor as he delievered a timely and needed Word. I saw Him in the expectant faces of people coming up for prayer and I saw Him in the eyes, words and touch of those praying for those in need.

I saw Him in the soft movement of a teen tethered to a wheelchair all his life as he gently set his head on his grandfather's shoulder and patted his arm with a sparkle in his eye. I saw Him in the loving kiss on the top of that teen's head from the grandfather who has tirelessly and self-sacrificingly provided for this child's every need - emotionally, physically, mentally, spriitually, financially and so very lovingly. I saw Him in the eyes of the grandmother who has reared two generations of children without so much as a whimper. I saw Him in the eyes of the those who witness moments like that as they look around and see if anyone else did - and the sweet smile of acknowledgement when they find someone else who has.

And yet the best place I saw Him was yet to come... I went to the rest room and as I stood there washing my hands, I glanced in the mirror and I saw Him in the face being reflected back at me. Yep, I saw Jesus today - have you?

A Tenacious Spirit...

I was once told that I have a very tenacious spirit. I laughed it off at the time and thought it was just a unique way of saying that I was stubborn. As the years have gone by, those words have stuck in my head and I haven't been able to quite let them go. So, like any good student of life would do, I explored the actual meaning of the word - tenacious. Webster defines it as "tending to hold fast; not easily pulled apart; tending to adhere or cling; persistent in maintaining, adhering to or seeking something valued or desired." Hmmm. Guess that person had a point. The more those words have steeped in my brain, the more real and accurate they seem.

I am generally a private person. Oh, I'm outgoing and will talk to anybody about just about anything and occasionally use things that have happened in my life to prove a point, but for the most part, very few people indeed know what makes me who I am. Very few know of the struggles and obstacles I have faced in my life. As I sit here with seemingly the weight of the world on my shoulders and my entire life in an upheaval, God has placed it on my heart to share some of what I've been through. So, for a private person who hates to journal, this will not be an easy task. Funny thing about knowing that your time to meet your maker is drawing ever closer - you certainly don't want to NOT do what He's asking you to do. Nope, I don't want to stand before the judgement seat and find out that God had wanted to use something that I had been through to help someone else and that because of my pride, insecurities and/or fear, I didn't listen and obey. I'll be blogging as God puts things on my heart to share - in no particular order. You're welcome to come along for the ride. A lot of the things I'll be sharing I have never spoken of before. I may be changing names to keep people I love - and even those who I may not deem as my favorite peeps - from getting hurt. My point is not to cause pain to anyone, I just need to share the experience - names and specifics are truly irrelevant. The rest is in God's hands on how He wants it to touch people. Some things will be hard to read and even harder to write, but hang in there with me. In each and every instance, I have seen God's light beckoning me forward and carrying me through.

Getting back to the tenacious spirit. I have had to fight an uncooperative body my whole life. Many times through the years I have come close to not pulling through with the doctors having no idea why. Too many times to even share in one blog. I have caused many a doctor sleepless nights I'm sure. But I was born a fighter. I recall my mom sharing that I gave her quite the scare in the delivery room. As they slapped my bottom, I didn't make a peep. They cleared my airways and tried again - still no sound. Ok, you can quit smiilng now, I know I've made up for that in spades, but to a delivering mother who didn't even have time to get any meds or an epidural before delivery, that lack of sound was frightening. The doctors scrambled to see what, if anything, was wrong but they just couldn't figure it out. My breathing was labored at first but quickly I caught on and before long, all was well. The doctor told my mom that I was fighter and somewhere deep down inside, those words must have taken root.

I spent my toddler years with tonsillitis, ear infections, sinus infections and myriad colds and allergies. My biggest budget buster for school supplies was never the paper or pencils, but the boxes of Kleenex. Most kids came with a box to share the first day of school to share for the year and I had to lug four or five boxes myself and still would have to bring more before the school year was done. I remember like it was yesterday when I had to finally have my tonsils removed. It was the same day my first grade class was going on a field trip. Instead of boarding a bus to go to Hawthorn Melody Farms to see real cows get milked, I was being whisked away in a car to Lutheran General Hospital for surgery. The tonsils came out fine but for some reason, I had trouble with the anesthesia and breathing. Instead of being able to go home in a day or so, I was stuck in the hospital for a week - still stewing because I had to miss the field trip, my FIRST field trip no less. They had trouble stopping the bleeding and getting my oxygen levels regulated. No explanation as to why and quite frankly, I guess I had the doctor a bit concerned because every time they thought they had me stabilized, something would go wrong. But he knew I was fighting and even he said no medicine was a match for that. My mom, up until the day she died, attributes my health scares to her consistently premature graying hair and always wondered if it was all because secretly I was thrilled with living on root beer popsicles.

I never was one to be able to even think about perfect attendance at school. Most years I was perilously close to being held back because of days missed. My only saving grace was that my grades were excellent and that I did work my butt off - for the most part. There were subjects that I wasn't thrilled with but on the ones that I was, there was no stopping me. I'd chomp on every piece of information that I could sink my teeth into. I'd sleep, eat and breathe it until I felt that I really knew the subject and not just enough to get a passing grade. Guess I was a bit tenacious in my research. I was a standard fixture at the library where I aced the dewey decimal system and could find a book faster than many a full time librarian. Today I have a world of information at my fingertips and only a mouse click away.

When my mother became ill and the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong, I'd scour the limited medical resources we had at our local library to see if I could "help". In the meantime, I watched as my mom shuttled from doctor to doctor trying to find answers as to why her body was failing her and doctor after doctor thinking that it was all in her head. They'd admit that she didn't look well but no tests were coming up with definitive answers, and quite frankly, they didn't bother to even look beyond the obvious. It was hard for her and very frustrating and hard for me because I felt helpless. One of the hardest things I've ever faced in my life was watching someone I love die and not be able to do one thing about it. I watched not only her body diminish but her will and her spirit as well. I'll go into more of that at another time.

On a cold January afternoon, while I was at graduation practice, my mother slipped away from us. I came home to find her lifeless body on the couch on the very day I was graduating from high school. I called the ambulance and stood by waiting to hear the words that I knew were coming... "I'm sorry, but she's gone." Somewhere in that time frame, life stood still. I remember going through the motioins but somehow I was protected from feeling the pain. I graduated from high school that night and in one day my entire world changed. It didn't stop there and actually my tenacity served me well in the days to come. Again, that's something I'll be touching on at another time.

I'll be sharing about having to fight for rights, against family, against doctors, against illnesses and a host of other things. Yet through each and every struggle, I've seen God's blessings shine through. I've seen how the seemingly separate pieces of a puzzle that make no sense are fitting together to form the perfect picture of what has become my life. I have not been thrilled with many of the things I have been through, but as I sit here and glance back at each and every piece, I'm beginning to see how each was needed to fill in the tapestry of my life. I have some tattered threads and there are places yet to be filled, but I'm finally able to see some of the ways in which God has carried me through each and every circumstance and somehow in the midst of it all, I became stronger, and yes, even more tenacious. I am not a quitter. I admit that the news of late has not been good and the doctors are giving up on me, but you know what? They've given up on me before and I'm still here. I will continue to fight with every breathe I take until I breathe my last. And that, my friend, you can take to the Bank of Tenacity. More later....

And so it goes...

Well, I had my follow-up appointment at Vanderbilt on Tuesday. Dr. Sheller really is a special doctor. He has a quiet way about him and is so willing to listen to and answer any questions I may have. That's rare these days. He looked at the CT scan cd that I brought with me and was not pleased at all. He's going to have his team of radiologists look at it and see what they say. Basically though, there really isn't much they can do but just monitor me and try to make me comfortable. There was no need to run any more tests because there isn't anything more that they can do for me anyway that isn't already being done. If I make it through this episode of pulmonary embolism and pneumonia, there probably will be another one come about that I don't. We're taking precautions against the pulmonary emboli with the blood thinners, but they are no guarantee - just up my chances of not getting one a bit. Other than that, we've done all that can be done. He's agreed to leave me off the Imuran for at least another couple of weeks. Since I'm not feeling a whole lot better, I'm willing to concede that my taking the Imuran and getting the pneumonia and PE just might have been coincidental. Either way, I'm glad to have a break from it.

So basically, they just sent me home and are hoping for the best. Kinda sad when that starts to sink in. It's not easy for the doctors to admit and certainly not what you want to hear but I appreciate his honesty and know that if there was more he could do - he'd do it. Not that he's giving up, new stuff comes up everyday and I am one of their favorite patients - which is funny in itself. The rest is out of their hands, which has been the truth all along. I'm in God's hands and quite frankly, there is no place I'd rather be. And yet, I am also human, with human feelings and emotions. The song that keeps playing in my head is Tim McGraw's "Live Like You Were Dying" and it has always touched my heart. This week though, there is a new thought that has come to mind that I find is much harder to swallow... die like you are living. Think about it. The easy part is to appreciate all the blessings in my life. The people, the relationships, God's awesome beauty and works all around me, the list goes on. What's hard is not to dwell on knowing that it will all come to an end. One day I'll just cease to exist in this world. Of course, I realize we all will, but it's hard not to let that take front and center. It's hard to go through the everyday motions of life without wondering "what's the point?" In a lot of ways, it's freeing. I no longer fret over it if I have a scoop of ice cream while I'm watching tv at night - what's it going to do, kill me? But in a lot of ways, the everyday routine of things seems pointless. Oh I brush my teeth and shower everyday - Lord knows I couldn't stand it if I didn't. But I no longer worry that the house isn't spotless or that a picture isn't hanging just right. I no longer fuss over the towels being folded a certain way in the closet - yeah, I was that anal. It just doesn't matter. What I do notice and appreciate is that the towels are clean and where I can reach them, no matter how they're folded. The dishes are done and put away - most of the time - and that's a good feeling, although it's frustrating that I can't be the one doing them all the time. I do what I can but the bulk of the responsibilities for everyday life have fallen on Oliver.

Yesterday coming home we had the most amazing journey. Instead of coming home the interstate, we decided to take the Natchez Trace Parkway. It's a scenic route with hills and trees and loaded with wildlife. There are historical markers and information every couple of miles. We even stopped at the burial ground of Meriwether Lewis from Lewis and Clark fame. We saw deer and turkeys, butterflies galore, birds flying everywhere. We stopped at one point for a bathroom break and a quick lunch and just were mesmerized by the intrinsic beauty of God's creation. We saw an eagle fly high above the fields, with cows and goats below grazing and fish jumping in the pond. We saw a farmer in the distance moving a hale bale to a feeder in the horse corral. We listened to the quiet rustle of leaves as the wind blew through the trees as the brewing storm was picking up steam. We sat there, each lost in their own throughs. Me, sorry I didn't bring my camera, yet knowing that some things just can't be caught through a lens. This was a God moment for me. Somewhere in the turbulance that has entered my life, I found a peace that just cannot be explained. For just a moment I felt like that eagle, facing towards the storm, head on, and allowing the winds of that storm to lift me higher than I could have gotten on my power alone. Soaring high above all the storms rolling in and gaining strength in doing so. I can't stop the storms but that doesn't mean I can't use their power to get me higher. That eagle didn't stop one drop from coming down but it didn't get wet. It flew above it all. I want to be able to do the same.

It's hard not to focus on the storm when you just don't feel well. I'm in pain and it's hard to breathe most times, sometimes harder than others. I'm taking the meds as directed and doing everything that I'm supposed to. That's the ironic thing about this illness called Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. You don't do anything to cause it and there isn't anything you can take to make it better. It is incurable. The only "cure" would be a lung transplant. With my insurance ending in December, my not having the cash on hand to be able to pay my way through it, already not being able to tolerate the heavy drugs I would need to take, my history now of pulmonary emobli four times, being diabetic, etc. - um, I'm just not a good candidate for one. So here I sit with the reality of the situation being that I may have only a few more weeks, perhaps a year, outside chance for two. Still I believe that my healing was bought and paid for at the cross. I truly believe in God's divine wisdom and that He can and will heal me in His time - no matter what form that healing may take. I don't need to grow new lungs and do cartwheels down the road to know that there is a God who loves me beyond compare, but I'm willing to do just that if His desire is for me to do so. I'm willing to share the testimony and the road that He has me on. The tragedy would not to allow Him to use me and my story to bolster someone else walking a similar path. I've read the stories of miracles and seen many myself. Enough to know that they are real and they are special. But I've also seen enough very faithful people lose their battles to know that not everyone wins on this earth. I believe that God is in control and I want His will to be done in my life - the good and the bad. As long as He is for me, I truly know that no one and no illness can stand against me and win.

I debated long and hard with myself on whether to open up and be honest with what I'm feeling to people. It's hard to be vulnerable and put yourself out there - raw and open. It would be easy to go around saying that I'm doing great - after all, I don't look THAT sick (although these past two weeks I haven't looked too hot). It's harder to be honest and to see the uneasiness of people because they just don't know what to say. I know their hearts when they tell me to get better soon.... kinda wish I could myself. Lord knows I'm fighting with all that I have and I will continue to do so until my very last breath. I'm not afraid of dying, I am concerned with getting up there and standing before God having missed doing something that I was supposed to do on this earth. So I will share my journey with those willinng to go down the road with me and continue to pray for the lost and for those who are going through all kinds of maladies in life. I will continue to do my part as best I can. I will continue to be - fearfully and wonderfully made - for as long as God allows me to be on this planet. I'm willing to answer any questiong anybody has, so if there is something you want to know, ask away. I'll be honest that my emotions are all over the board but I know that my faith is strong. It's been tested time and time again and I know without a doubt, that's a test I'm passing with flying colors. Still working on the fleshly things though.

I am reminded of a quote from the late, great, D. L. Moody. ""Someday you will read in the papers that Moody is dead. Don't you believe a word of it. At that moment I shall be more alive than I am now. I was born of the flesh in 1837, I was born of the spirit in 1855. That which is born of the flesh may die. That which is born of the Spirit shall live forever." Ok, my years would be filled in as 1956 and 1963, respectively, and the name will change to Hassett, but the sentiment is the same. In the meantime, I will be taking things one day at a time. Hoping and praying that this latest episode is just a minor setback in the scheme of things and that soon I will be up and running around with the rest of my clan. But for now, as I doze in my chair, I'm flying high above the clouds on the wings of an eagle, not totally oblivious to the storms heading my way and circling around me, but refusing to let them define who I am. I'm above those storms, safe and protected, soaring higher than I ever knew I could.

As most of you know, I have been battling with health issues for a long, long time. Most of you have no idea what all is going on but have been keeping me in prayer anyway and I appreciate it so much. I've always been meaning to explain exactly what's going on and after the scare this weekend, realize there's no time like the present. If you don't want the graphic details, you can stop here with the diagnosis of Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. If you want to continue on with me, here we go.

Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis is basically scar tissue that is building up on my lungs. There is no cure. The prognosis is death, usually in 2-4 years from diagnosis. As the scar tissue builds up, my lungs become less able to move oxygen to my brain and other organs. Usually death comes from respiratory failure, pulmonary emboli and/or pneumonia. Currently my lungs are only working at about 40% of what they should be. So I become tired quite easily and it doesn't take much for me to become short of breath. There have been some cases of prolonging life and life quality with immuno-suppressant drugs. They are basically like chemo drugs that kill off the immune system in the hopes that it will slow the body down from trying to fight itself. I was put on Imuran two weeks ago and had a very rough time of it.

By last week, I was becoming very weak and breathing was becoming very difficult, even without any exertion. On Friday I was scheduled to get a routine blood test to see how my body is responding medically to the new medicine. When I got to the doctor's office, I was running a fever of 102 and looking like something the cat dragged in. My doc was not happy with the way I was breathing or looking so she sent me over to the hospital for blood work and a chest x-ray. She called me later that evening and told me that I had some pneumonia and she was going to start me on antibiotics right away. She also told me that if I wasn't better or got worse that I should go to the ER and be checked out.

So we filled the prescription and I took my first dose Friday night. On Saturday, I was feeling a whole lot worse but figured I'd better give the medicine some time to work. All during the day I kept debating back and forth whether I should go in, each time talking myself out of it... we can't afford it, let the medicine do its job, etc. But it hurts... well, that could be from the pneumonia. But it feels like it did when I've had a blood clot before... well it could be nothing and you'd just be wasting their time and spending money you don't have. You know how that battle in the mind goes. On Sunday, pretty much the same thing.

Oliver went to church on Sunday and when I got up, I really thought I should go in. Had he taken his cell phone with him, I would have called him and told him I was doing just that. But since it was sitting on the bathroom counter, that wasn't going to work. Quite frankly, I didn't have the strength to walk all the way into the ktichen at church to tell him so I decided I'd just wait until he got home. I didn't want him to come home and see the car and me gone. By the time he got home, I was pretty bad but he was so tired. He'd done the catering all by himself since I wasn't there to do my part. So, I thought I'd just let him rest and I went and laid down. The whole time I was laying there, I kept thinking about when my friend died a couple of years ago. She died from a pulmonary embolism.

I went through the same checklist of symptoms that I had discussed with her on the phone the day she died. All of which I was answering yes to myself. My last words to her were, if you have any of those symptoms, don't wait... the last thing you want to do is mess with a blood clot. She died later that day because she didn't go get it checked out. By the time she had her daughter call the ambulance, it was too late. So there I am, lying in bed with this little voice playing in my head - are you going to listen to your own advice? Ok. I came out to tell Oliver that we should go but he was busy making me dinner and it did smell so good. Alright, I at least can have dinner before we go. By now my fever was down to about 101 and I didn't seem quite as worried. After dinner we started watching tv. Then I took a shower and changed into my nightgown and figured I'd hold out until morning and call the doc back.

As the night wore on, I was having more and more pain in my right lung which was weird because the pneumonia was worse in my left lung and I wasn't having any real pain there, just pressure. Finally around 11:30 pm I got up to go to the bathroom and stumbled a few times on the way in there. Something was terribly wrong. Quite frankly, I was afraid that if I went to sleep, I wouldn't wake up. I was that scared. I came out and asked him (finally) to take me in to the hospital. I still wasn't sure whether to go to the local one or up to Nashville where my pulmonologist was. It came down to feeling I didn't have the strength to make it to Nashville by car so we went local. We knew that if it was bad enough, they'd life flight me to Vanderbilt. We do have life flight insurance - wouldn't live without it here in the country.

It didn't take long for them to confirm that the pneumonia wasn't getting better. Since the pain seemed to be on the other side from where the worse pneumonia was showing, the ER doc decided to do a CT scan, given my history of pulmonary emboli and sure enough, there was a small clot in my right lower lobe of my lung. They admitted me to get me started on anticoagulants to thin out my blood and at least try to stabilize my temp, etc. By early morning, the hosptal doctor was trying to get Vanderbilt to take me but they were full. Since I was stable here, it was decided to keep me here and just do a phone consult with my doc's office up there. My regular pulmonologist is out of state this week, so it was a colleague that pulled my charts and talked with the docs here. They took me off the Imuran and I feel much better that I'm not on it.

So now I'm home. I'll be on blood thinners the rest of my life and that's fine. I always knew that if I had another episode with a clot, that would happen. I need to follow up with my pulmonologist on Tuesday and I'm just praying that they don't put me back on the Imuran. This was a close call. I almost didn't make it through and reality started setting in that one of these days, I won't. Not that any of us have guarantees, but it is a heavy load to have hanging over your head. There are a lot of people who live every day with that reality and it's not a pleasant state to be in. What's a simple cold for one person can literally kill me. That being said, I also know there is the Great Healer and He is working on my behalf. Apparently He wasn't ready for me yet or I wouldn't be here writing this now.

As you know, Oliver has been out of a job since last September. Just when we thought things were starting to look up, the bottom has fallen out yet again. Oliver was supposed to start a consulting job on Tuesday to help get a local restaruant back on its feet and the owner has entered rehab and the job is out the window. His wife fired everyone and is closing down for now. So we're still at no income, my breathing and lung issues are getting worse rapidly and quite frankly, not only do we not see light at the end of the tunnel but we're not even sure what tunnel we're in anymore. Depressed? um, yeah a little. I'd be lying if I told you we weren't. I thank God everyday, though, that we have him to lean on. He has a plan, we just don't know what it is. But one thing is for sure, we don't doubt that He does. THAT is what keeps us going. All this other stuff is nuisance. We're all going to die. The reality for me is that I'm slowly heading towards a sudden death. My body is shutting down, it cannot be stopped and one day it will just cease to exist. My spirit will move on and I will be leaving people behind that I care deeply about. Scary? yeah but also in a strange way, peaceful. I know there will be an end to all these hassles and that helps me keep things in a bit better perspective.

My health insurance will run out in Decemeber. At that time, who knows what will happen. Even my meds won't be covered anymore although we're working on getting help with those. I'll lose my specialists at Vanderbilt and have to rely on doctors who don't know how to deal with IPF. In the meantime, stress makes matters worse, so I cannot allow it to stress me out or I literally can't breathe. I still have the lump in my neck to be checked out and who knows what medical mystery road that will take me down. I'm getting tired. There are days when I want to take the boatload of meds I take now, chuck them out the window and let the chips fall where they may. And yet, I'm not ready to give up fighting. I kinda like living. I've gotten a lot out of it and would like to see more days, but I would prefer more quality days, that's for sure.

So if some days I seem a little down or frustrated, please bear with me. I try not to drag anybody else down with me. I wish I could say I was going to live forever - I'm not. I struggle with pulling back from everyone I love so that when I am gone, it won't hurt them so much. Then there is the part of me that wants to grab them and hold on for dear life for as long as I have. Not one single one of us knows what tomorrow holds. Why do we spend so much time planning for it as if our lives depend upon it? Reach out and hug that person you've been wanting to. Make amends with that person you're at odds with. Life is short, no matter how long you live. That's the reality for us all.

The hardest part... at least for me...

Here we go again. Another road to travel down the medical highway. It all started (this time) before Christmas. I was showering and I noticed a lump on my neck up under my chin on my left side. Hmmm, hadn't felt that before. Oh well, I had a doc appointment the next week so I made a note to myself to mention it to him. I did just that. He felt it and since he was a pulmonologist, it really wasn't in his area of specialty. He told me to tell my ENT the next time I saw him.

Well that wasn't a problem either. Because of the recurrent ear infections, I saw him in a few weeks after that. I did tell him about it but my ears were so gunked up that somehow it just got lost in the shuffle. Strike two. In February I saw my primary care doctor and mentioned it to him. He felt it but since I then also had an active sinus infection, he just prescribed antibiotics and said he'd check it again in a month. A month later he was no longer practicing at the office or seeing patients, so it went unpursued yet again.

I saw a partner of his in the office in March but by that time I was dealing with severe back pain so even I wasn't concerned about the lump in my neck. Finally a couple of weeks ago I saw yet another new PCP and she finally took the time to really examine it after I kept hounding. She agreed that maybe we should get it checked out. So an ultrasound and x-ray were scheduled for last week. The ultrasound showed that it was not a cyst - which is what everyone was hoping for - but a solid mass.

Tomorrow I go for a CT scan to see how deep it goes and to get more information about it. I'm trying not to freak out about it but the ultrasound tech and my doctor's nurse seem to show a lot of concern in their voices after seeing the images. It's a pretty good size lump - about the size of a golf ball now. It doesn't really hurt but I do notice it's there.

The hardest part for me? Trying not to diagnose it myself or research it to death. That's just my nature to get as much info as I can and try to process all scenarios so that I'm not taken by surprise. I've really been fighting that urge this time and it hasn't been easy. I'm trying to just deal with it as it comes. Um, much easier said than done.

I'm tired - literally and figuratively. It's been one medical drama after another now for I don't even know how long. I'm still dealing wtih the lung problems and they (the doctors) can't quite seem to figure out what's going on there. A year and half ago I had an open lung biopsy and they gave me one diagnosis, only now they don't think it's right. Now this.

I really would like to ask you to pray. There are just so many stressors right now in my life that I just don't think I can even pray for myself right now. Oliver still hasn't gotten any bites on a job, my COBRA insurance will run out in Dec. and I am uninsurable after that, the bills are mounting and mounting, our savings is depleted, I don't feel good, and the stupid blue blob is still a mixed blessing. Ok, I love the blue blob when it's up and ready to go - not so much when it's flat as a pancake.

It's the synergistic effect of everything seemingly falling apart for too long of a time now that I'm quite frankly worn out. If there is a lesson that God is trying to teach me, I wish He'd move on to the Cliff Notes because this unabridged version doesn't seem to be getting through to me. I know what the Bible says about all this and I do stand on that Word. It's just that sometimes when you're in the middle of a dark season for so long, you just begin to wonder if the light is still even on let alone at the end of the tunnel. I don't see the light and I haven't for a long time. I haven't given up believing that it's still there but I will admit to having my all too human moments of weakness.

Thanks for praying. It really does mean a lot. One thing that I have learned through the years is that the only thing that is certain is uncertainty. Sigh... and of course I really am looking forward to the day that I no longer will be a slave to this old body but will receive a new one... and yes, I still have dibs on Cindy Crawford's. : ) Thanks all for letting my vent and for praying for me. ((hugs))

Rockin' Along

Ok, the doctor told me that I NEED to do more walking. It wasn't a mere suggestion as it has been in the past. This time it really is a matter of life or breath. So since we have so mercifully been able to reduce my arsenal of meds by one very expensive one, it became clear that new walking shoes were in order.

I have seen the commercials on TV about the new rocker ones that promise to give you more of a workout as you're walking along. Figured it wouldn't hurt to add some extra burn since I'll already be inclined to get out of my recliner anyway. Besides the commercials show these little girls with pert little butts - hey, why not? Ok, you can stop spitting your coffee out - I get it (you too Steve). So my butt will never look like that but I'm really more concerned with my lungs these days anyway. ; )

So off we went to Kohl's and I tried on a few pair until I found the perfect ones. No rubbing, no pinching, no hurting - shoes I could actually walk in and they look snazzy to boot. On sale with an extra 20% off coupon, can't beat that, so I got them. I have to admit that they are not your grandma's gym shoes. Nope, these take some getting used to.

One is that once you've put them on, you're adding about two inches to your height. Two inches can give you a completely different perspective on everyday activities. Amazing how many more items I can reach in the cabinets with my walking shoes on. Also it's a lot farther stretch to pick something up off the floor, so I have to be extra careful not to drop anything, and getting in and out of chairs can be awkward at best.

The first day I wore them I was smart. I took them for a test run at Walmart where I could hold on to the cart for dear life. By the second time around the store, I was feeling brave and let go of the cart and went and got the cream cheese all by myself - without incident. My exercise esteem was growing. Then I got to the produce department and tried to step backwards to let someone else through. Good thing the cart was there and there wasn't an officer around asking me to walk a straight line. Not sure I could have passed that test. But practice does make perfect, well almost.

Outside of manuevering stairs, I've become quite proficient with them. I can now master backing up and stopping short without flailing my arms like I'm taking off or looking like I just came out of happy hour at the local bar. I have that heel, roll, toe, thing down pat... can't help but to have it down, that's how the shoes roll. To try and walk differently is flirting with the possibilty of having to add a neck brace to your wardrobe.

I'm not ready for any marathons and I don't think I'll be taking up speed walking anytime soon, but at least I have a bit more spring in my step and can go farther than I could before I got the shoes. I feel the burn in my legs and yes, even in my butt - although the size of that remains the same for now. Darn those commercials with their skinny little models and hopes of getting your own pert little butts.... lol.

I'm making progress, one bouncy, little. rocking step at a time and I love it. I even love the bonus of being able to put the groceries away without having to enlist the help of taller people around me. It's amazing how two inches of height can give you a whole other view of the world and I like it. Of course, I also like walking around in bare feet but if I have to put shoes on, these are definitely the way to go. So be careful if you see me coming up behind you, because I'll probably just be passing you by and going on about my day... and try hard not to dwell on whether these shoes are helping my butt. It may not look like it on the outside but I feel it on the inside - and that's what matters... lol.

And I promise, I won't be asking any of you anytime soon about how my butt looks in these jeans... but maybe six months from now... LOL. well, I better get rockin' along. These shoes were made for walking and that's just what I'll do... Rock on and have a great day! I am.

Back Porch Sittin'

Life is funny. Some days you feel on top of the world and other days you feel as if the world is on top of you. And then some days you're just not sure which is which. Today is one of those days for me.

Our life and future is so uncertain. We don't know when or if we'll have to move. Oliver sends out resume after resume and nothing. He's pounded the pavement, and still not a bite. We remember joking around that he could always become a Walmart greeter in his old age. Let me tell you, those jobs are NOT easy to come by. Unemployment will be running out and it will be the end of October before he can even think about collecting social security, neither of which comes near covering our monthly expenses.

With my lungs and health as bad as it is, I cannot work outside the home and haven't been able to find anything that I can do right from here, where I can control my environment and the bathroom is not too far away after I take my meds. I know, TMI.

And yet as I sit here on the back porch gazing into the woods that are our backyard, I feel a complete sense of calm and peace. I'm watching the cardinals and blue jays playing on the ground, the squirrels scampering about - chasing each other like there's no tomorrow, a couple of field mice are happily pecking around the moss-covered ground, and earlier a bunch of deer crossed by just a short distance away, the mourning doves cooing from somewhere in the trees. It's a beautiful sight. The sun is casting dappled shade on the ground and the wind is blowing with the smell of freshly cut wild onions. It's quiet, not a machine sound or man-made sound to be heard. Just the sweet sound of leaves rustling and birds chirping and cooing, squirrels chattering, and sometimes absolutely nothing. There is such beauty in complete silence.

I realize that if our lives hadn't taken the turns that it has, that I would not be sitting here enjoying every moment of this awesome experience. Perhaps we'd be out shopping, buying things that we really don't need just to be doing something. Perhaps we'd be too busy going from here to there, rushing and gaining nothing. Nope, here I am... Oliver took the shopping list and went to the store alone for the few things that we need. Less tempation and frustration for me if I'm not along and a whole lot quicker for him.

Do I wish I knew what tomorrow would bring? Yes, absolutely, but not at the expense of losing today. My prayer is that we really don't have to move back into a city environment. I admit that I've become quite attached to our little country life. It touches and completes a part of me inside that never was happy in the city. I don't like the hustle and bustle of the big cities, never have. Nope, this peace and tranquility and yes, even simplicity is much more my style.

I KNOW my neighbors and more importantly, I love them. There is more physical distance between us than I've ever known and yet I feel closer to them than if I could reach out the window and touch them. I love our little one stoplight town with the newly paved sidelwalks and gaslamps. We even have a brick in the sidewalk outside the Sawmeal Restaurant with our name on it. We feel connected.

We have a church family that we love more than anything and funny thing is that we actually believe that they love us. Really. I don't want to lose this life and I don't want to leave it but if the time comes that we actually do have to move on, then I will still be grateful for having this time, like today, to have stopped and really been in it whole-heartedly and not just passing through in a rush of mindless activity. As I look towards the end of our property and see the little fence around where Igloo and Sadie are buried, a tear drops down my cheek but it's not totally from sadness and missing them. Part of it's for gratitide that I've had such a special time in my life because I was forced by circumstances beyond my control to stop and smell, really smell, the roses.

My life may not be perfect and it's certainly not settled but crazy as it is right now, today, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Somehow in the midst of the turmoil, I have found a peace that surpasses all understanding and I like it. Tomorrow the tears may fall again but today, right now, I'm finding plenty of reasons to smile .So, if you're looking for me, I'm sitting here out on the back porch overlooking my little kingdom, ice water in hand, enjoying every simple moment of it. <3 May your day be just as blessed.

"Go Fish"

I admit it, I can't catch a fish to save my life. Not that I haven't tried - it's just that I never could quite get the hang of it. There must be some sort of finesse and talent to be able to do it that I just don't possess. My brothers both know how to fish, my dad fished, even my mom was known to throw in a hook or two. Then there was me.

I remember as a youngster, my dad would patiently put the worm on a hook for me because I wasn't about to touch one of those squirmy things. I didn't mind digging in the dirt for them and putting them in a cup, but after that, they were on their own. He'd stand there proudly, handing over the the rod, only to watch me drop the line into the water and lose the worm and the hook within seconds of it breaking the surface. We'd spend hours out on the boat on the weekends my father had us and my brothers and he would catch fish left and right. Nope, not me. On those rare occasions that I didn't lose the hook at the get go, I'd catch a big patch of seaweed or some piece of trash that made its way into the lake. Otherwise, I'd just stick my nose in a book and relish the sun baking down on my neck.

Back on the homefront, during the summers, my younger brother and I would take our fishing poles and head over to Axehead Lake near our home. Since I still wouldn't touch worms, we used Velveeta cheese as bait and believe it or not, once in a while, Kenny would come up with a fish. Talk about dumb luck. I'd be standing inches from him and catch nada, zilch, zippo, nothing. But it didn't really matter because we'd just throw them back and enjoy the peacefulness of the scenery anyway.

As I got older and had a son (whose pet name ironically was "fish"), I wanted him to experience the tranquility of spending time by the water immersed in the calmness and peacefulness of the sport. Even though I still had never caught a fish, I was determined to not let that stand in the way of trying to teach my son. I finally got over my affinity to not touch worms (its' amazing what we'll do for our kids) and decided that by a quiet river in Wisconsin we'd set out on our virgin fishing voyage on the banks of a small river.

I meticulously baited the hook as I had watched those far more experienced than I do countless times. Danny watched but really wasn't interested in having any part of that. He didn't mind playing in the dirt looking for worms, it's just that he wasn't too keen on spearing them with a hook. Hmmm, guess that nut didn't fall far from the tree. Finally with hook baited and lure tied to the line, my son wisely standing behind a tree to watch - a very large oak tree, I drew the rod back and went to cast the line into the water. All seemed to be going picture perfectly until, for some reason, the line kicked back at me and the hook managed to imbed itself right into my armpit. Dang that hurt. Somewhere down the bank, my yelp was heard and help was on its way.

Between fits of laughter and feigned concern, Oliver and Danny came to my rescue and pulled the blasted little thing out of my armpit, leaving not one, but two holes in its place. Neither of them ever teased me again about keeping a roll of toilet paper in the glove compartment of the car. It sure came in handy that day. Needless to say, fishing lesson number one was over for the day. As a matter of fact, we never did try that again and Danny never did show any interest in learning as he was growing up. Sigh. Oh well, at least I tried. Guess I took that whole "be ye fishers of men" part of the Bible a little too literally.

So here I am living near the Tennessee river, surrounded by fishing people of all sorts. Menfolk, womenfolk, little tot-like folk. They talk lures in a language that I am yet to understand and about fish that I have no idea what they look like. I still love the water and everything else that goes with fishing - except the fishing part. For some reason I just can't bring myself to take it up again. Perhaps one day, but for now I have a small scar in my armpit that reminds me of my limitations and skill when it comes to doing it.

Bless the hearts of the fisher-people everywhere who do it for sport and for a living. Your secret spots are safe from me and if you do by some chance see me coming up on you - fear not, I won'd be casting any lines or going after your fish. I'm 54 years old and the biggest thing I've ever caught fishing was myself - and that's not one of those stories that I want to brag about how big it was, because after all, it would be my own butt I'd be talking about.

It's almost that time of year where I'll be grabbing a book and heading down by the river - to read, to daydream, to watch, to learn, and to stay far away from hooks that can bite me. In the meantime, if you hear me say "go fish", you can bet that it'll be because I'm playing a childhood card game or cheering my son on at a ballgame. Happy spring everyone.

Unexpected Tears

Yesterday Oliver had an appointment at the VA in Memphis and I had been seeing some ads on tv about places buying gold. I decided it would be a good time to gather up all the loose stuff like single earrings, bracelets no longer worn, etc. and see if I could get a few bucks. I took my little baggie full of treasures and off we went. I dropped Oliver at the VA and headed to the east side of Memphis, not too far from where we used to live.

At the intersection where the one that I remember advertised was supposed to be, there was a Whole Food Market, so I decided to stop in there first and figured I'd ask where this place was so that I wasn't rubber-necking through a very busy intersection (6 lanes, both ways). Funny thing is that nobody in there knew where I was talking about. Finally one middle-aged woman said there was a little strip mall around the corner and maybe it was there. I thanked her, paid for my red-pepper infused olive oil, and left. I went around the corner and found the little strip mall that she was talking about and sure enough, there in the window was a sign that said "We Buy Gold." I got out of the car, locked the door and for some reason froze in my tracks. Something didn't "feel" right. Couldn't explain it but I knew that I wasn't supposed to go in that store. I looked around the area and sure enough, kitty corner from where I was standing, was the place that I had actually seen the ads for - with the blue awning. I got back in my car and as I was pulling out of the parking spot, I noticed that two doors down was a "Psychic Tea Room." Perhaps that explained my hesitation to be where I was. Felt like I was on foreign soil for sure (and I didn't go in any of the stores so I don't know who worked there or what nationality or anything - it was a feeling and not something I saw).

Anyway, it took a while because of the traffic but I managed to get across all the lanes and to the store. No hesitation once I got there either. I walked in, pulled out my little baggie and one of the older gentleman went in back to get Gary - the owner. It was a beautiful, nice, clean, little jewelry store. I stood there as Gary took out his little jeweler's loop and inspected each piece. All but my watch and one bracelet made the cut. Turns out they were just gold-plated. He took the rest and put them on the scale, grabbed a calculator and showed me "the price" that he could pay. I nodded and he brought out the checkbook.

It was not a grand amount by any means, but enough to pay the electric bill this month, which helps. I'm not sure what exactly set off the tear factory. Was it when he wrote "scrap gold" in the memo, or was it realizing that I never again would open my jewelry box and see my mother's or my grandmother's wedding rings, or was it because somehow I felt like I was selling their memories to pay the electric bill? It wasn't because I was honoring their long marriages - both had been divorced in an era when divorce was not the way to go and taken off those rings long before they died. Was it because we've worked hard all our lives and we've had to resort to things like this? Was it because I never would have considered this if Oliver hadn't lost his job 7 months ago and hasn't been able to find anything? Was it because we live in a world where people don't respect the older generation or their experiences anymore? Was it a fear of what the future will entail or was it a past coming back to me? We had lived as very young parents 30 years ago just a few miles from where I was now standing.

I truly am not sure why, but the tears just started flowing, but flow they did. Poor Gary, bless his heart, stood there so sympathetically. His first response was that he was paying me a very good price. Oh, that's the one thing I KNOW it was not about. He said I could change my mind and went to hand me the items back. I just shook my head and said "no, that's not it." I told him I didn't know why I was crying and that I certainly didn't expect to have emotions over selling some "scrap gold". They started out handing me tissues and finally went to paper towels. Gary gave me his card and told me to call him if I changed my mind. I told him that I wouldn't and that I'd be fine. I kinda gave an abbreviated version of what I was feeling. One of the older gentlemen was with another customer but the other one came over and tried to comfort me too. I apologized for blubbering and they were both so very sweet. Gary even said that he would add us to his prayer list. That did make me smile and suddenly I just knew I was in the right store.

Despite crying, I still had a sense of peace and knew I had done the right thing. Finally I gained my composure and left the store. On the way out there was a frail older lady that couldn't quite make the step up into the store. I held the door open and helped her up, telling her how gorgeous her outfit looked as I managed to give her a great big smile. Gary and the other gentleman seemed surprised that I was able to do that, given that I was such a crying mess two seconds earlier - guess all those years in customer service kicked in after all. Some things you just don't forget, no matter how awful you might be feeling at the moment.

I have no regrets about selling the jewelry - none at all. That's why I just don't understand the tears. It's one thing to cry when you know why you're crying. It's a whole other ballgame when you don't have a clue. When I think about it, I actually have to laugh. It certainly couldn't have been about the odd earrings whose mate had disappeared long ago. I don't think it was about the rings. My mom and my grandmother were single mothers back in the day when it was even harder to be so. Times were tough for them both and I know without a doubt that if the opportunity would have arisen back then, they both would have sold off those rings long ago. Actually I can almost see them looking at each other surprised that the wedding rings were real gold.

I even remember my mother calming me down once when I was a young teen. I had misplaced a locket that she had given me that had been a gift from my dad to her. I was quite upset and afraid to tell her about it. Turns out she already knew why I was upset because she had found it. She told me about how she had lost the original one long before I was born and how she and my aunt scoured the city of Chicago until they could find a replacement. My dad was none the wiser. She told me at that time to never get so attached or upset over things and I thought I had taken her advice to heart. Perhaps it's because I've lost so many people in my life and that I've always just had their things to remember them by, but I guess for whatever reason, I tend to want to surround myself with things that mattered to other people. Or I'm afraid that if I get rid of the items, it's like I'm being disloyal or dishonoring to their memory. Oh, I've watched enough of those shows on TLC and HGTV to know that the memory is in the heart and not attached to the item, but for some reason it creeps up when I least expect it.

I'm on a mission this year to get rid of a lot of the clutter and old things in my life. I have way too much "stuff" in my life that I never would have bought myself to begin with, gifts that I have gotten from others, not to mention all the stuff that I look at and go "what was I thinking?" Of course, necessity is the mother of all invention and the time is ripe. No better time than when you could use the money.

I'm sure I'll be shedding some more unexpected tears over the next couple of months as I get rid of more and more of the unnecessary things in my life. There is a certain sense of joy that comes about as you watch someone walk off with something that makes them happy, especially if it's something you have loved and you know it's going to a good home. There's always a snicker, or two, when you see an item that you got as a gift (especially if it's something that you hated) leave your sight lines never to be seen again. Ah, sweet relief. There is also a sense of freedom to know that you will no longer be tied down to items that have had a hold over you - even when you don't know they have.

So, if you stop by our yard sales and see something you like, please take it off our hands and give it a lovely new home. By the same token, if you see something that you gave us, please don't take it personally... we're not selling you, our friendship, our family relationship, or our memories together... we're just simplifying our lives. Hey, if I can make it through selling off two generations of wedding rings to be made into a new piece to bring joy to someone else's face, then all things are eligible for the same fate... I'll just be sure to have tissue and a roll of paper towels nearby because you never know when those unexpected tears will start to flow.

Why Adamsville?

It's a simple question really. One of my nephews wants to know how we ended up in Adamsville, TN. As I thought about that question, I realized that it wasn't so easy to answer. Of course, my first reaction was to just tell him "by car" but that would be too easy. Then I could tell him that Uncle Oliver's job brought us down here and that would be only part of the truth. I'm sure he's probably wondering why I haven't answered him yet and I do hope he's not taking it personally that I haven't. It's just that God has this amazing way of taking a simple question, or word, or situation, and embarking you on a journey to learn something - about Him and about yourself.

As I sit here I am filled with all kinds of different feelings. First being that I love it here in Adamsville and I love my friends so very much. We have been blessed to get plugged into a church family that I really thought could only exist in my dreams. They're a diverse bunch and that keeps it interesting. Plus we were able to find our dream house and move into it last year. We prayed for this house and God answered our prayers by providing it for us.

Then there is the uncertainty. After Oliver lost the job last September that brought us down here, we have been living in that murky area of wondering what's next. Will we have to move? That was the first question.... now it's more like will he ever find a job? He's sent out hundreds of resumes, hit the streets, done everything he can and should do, without one single interview. He's good at what he does, and despite being an old dog (although not quite old enough for social security) he's still quite capable of learning new tricks. Our savings having been depleted and no job on the horizon, it's scary at best. We literally have to go to bed at night grateful that today the electric is paid so we can watch tv and have heat, the water bill is paid so we can shower and for this month we have a roof over our heads. Our cars are paid for so there's no payment there to worry about. We have to see the good things or we'd be overwhelmed by the uncertainty of it all.

Oh this isn't the worst situation we've ever been in but it's stressing still the same. A few short years ago, we weren't sure he was even going to be alive as we went through the years of dealing with his cancer - which, by the way, he is free of. Last year the doctors weren't giving me much hope of living to see this day, until I got new doctors at Vanderbilt who not only gave me hope but have very much helped keep me alive and now are thinking I may have been misdiagnosed altogether. So we do realize that things can, and have been, much worse.

Two years ago when Oliver lost the job that he'd had for almost 20 years we were thrown for a loop. We prayed, we cried, we fought, and he found one actually quite quickly. We only went two weeks without a paycheck that time. The only caveat was that we'd have to move to Tennessee. We actually were thrilled. We had wanted out of the Chicago area for a long time. It just wasn't home anymore. We excitedly accepted the terms and Oliver left within a few days to come down here. I was stuck up there a while longer trying to sell the house and filled my time browsing online for a new one down here.

Those were hard days. The neighborhood we were living in was becoming more and more inundated with gangs and it was becoming scary, especially being up there alone. What was supposed to be a simple surgery for carpal tunnel sent me on this wild ride of medical testing and an open lung biopsy all because of a blip on a pre-surgical EKG. While my lungs were the issue in the physical sense, I have to ashamedly admit that it was my heart that was hardening in the spiritual and emotional sense. I felt all alone and scared and mad at the world. I really couldn't blame people for not coming around. I was miserable and was now living within the walls that I had only built up myself.

For years I refused to allow people into that inner circle where I kept my heart safe and sound. Oh, I'd be friendly enough and say the right words, but my actions didn't match up to them. There were a few people who broke through my barriers, but very few indeed. And those that did really, really irked me sometimes. Seems like the only ones that I would let in were the ones that I could have love/hate relationships with. God and I had some major discussions over some of them, yet I loved them just the same. Then life (and death) got in the way and somehow I lost them as well until I was literally all alone, laying in a hospital bed with nobody in sight. Just me and a God that I wasn't sure gave a rip anymore. Go ahead, shake your head... Lord knows I do as I look back on that moment but there I was none-the-less, thinking I had pushed everybody out of my life for good and that I didn't deserve anybody in it.

I literally was ready to just give up on life altogether. We hadn't had anybody look at our house in a couple of months, it was bitterly cold outside, Oliver couldn't even be home for my surgery. Life was bleak at best. I cried. Not a sobbing a cry but a cry out of frustration and just plain having had enough. Call the men in the white jackets if you must but I believe in that moment God came down and sat with me to have a chat. He basically told me that I could continue to harbor all the resentment and anger and live in a past that had not been pleasant within the walls that I had put up myself or I could let it all go right then and there and be ready to walk into a future full of hope and promise. The choice was mine.

It was a Kairos moment for me... a moment of an undetermined period of time in which something special happens. I argued with God that nobody really cared. I had alienated everyone. He so graciously gave me a picture in my mind of a man that I had only met once while vistiing down here in Tennessee two months earlier. A man in a wheelchair, named John. He told me that John was praying for me and that he cared. I became broken and it was in that moment of being broken that I made the decision to have a change of heart. Funny thing happened... within the next 24 hours, while I was still in ICU, someone came and looked at our townhouse and bought it. I was released from the hospital two days before Christmas and was leaving Chicago behind three weeks later. Everything literally changed on a dime.

Back to Adamsville. I, like my nephew, vaguely knew that I had heard about Adamsville but I Googled it as well. When I read that it was the home of Buford Pusser, I was flooded with the memory of watching the original movie "Walking Tall" - with Joe Don Baker. I remember a distinct part in the movie when they were walking down the road from the church to the cemetery and I remembered thinking at the time that Adamsville looked like the kind of town that I would love to live in. There was just something about it that I saw in a movie as a teen that touched something in me. Flash forward 40 years and here I am, literally driving by that cemetery every time we leave the house. A house incidentally that I found online and wanted before I ever even laid eyes on it in person. I just knew. Oliver knew once I convinced him to find it (mostly to stop me from nagging) and saw it with his own eyes. He was here every weekend walking the property and praying that somehow it would be ours.

So here I am, a little over a year later from moving into our dream house in Adamsville, TN and thinking about how we ended up in Adamsville, a place that I am proud to call home. A one stoplight, small country type of town. We still have phone booths on the corners - with working phones. The stores and restaurants prefer checks rather than credit cards. There is literally a barber shop on the corner and not one, but two beauty salons across the street. The kind of town where you can leave something outside and it will still be there when you come back for it. A place where you wave and smile at people you don't know and can strike up a conversation like you've known them your whole life. A town to call home.

In this year I have worked hard to let my heart be open to new people, new experiences and quite frankly a whole new way of life. Never have I been more content or feel more at home. Sure the people are different than others in my life, after all they ride bush hawgs and eat purple hulled peas and fried, well, everything. I can honestly say that I have not met one person here who has "gotten under my skin." Oh there are a few that I may just avoid, but for the most part each one has found a place in my heart and I'd do anything for them and know that if I needed something, I could call and honestly know that they'd be there for me. They're people that I'm so happy to be "doing life" with.

They allow me to be me. I laugh easily and these days sometimes I cry too easily but never, ever do I feel like I can't or shouldn't be feeling what I'm feeling. I don't feel judged and that brings with it a freedom that I've never known before. I never understood unconditional love and now I'm livng it every day. And John? Well he's become one of my very best friends, along with his wife Lisa. My pastor is not only my pastor but someone that I love with all my heart, as well as his family. They are my friends. We have neighbors that drop by just to say hi and we feel like we've been neighbors forever. We feel like pieces of a big puzzle and without all the pieces, the picture just wouldn't be the same - for any of us.

The area is beautiful as well. Filled with trees and wildlife of all kinds. A sky that seems to go on forever. A river that has a power and presence all it's own. I literally feel God's hand all around me. We don't know what tomorrow will bring. I tear up when I entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, this isn't where I will spend the rest of my life, but I know that I wouldn't trade one moment or one experience or one person for anything in the world. We're not sure if and/or when our time here in Adamsville is ending, but we do know that God knows and we're trusting that He has our best interests at heart. He's brought us this far and the lessons I've learned in the past year about Him and myself have all been worth it.

So, Dean, to answer your question, "how did you end up in Adamsville, TN?" - I guess it would suffice to say that "God only knows."

Hard to Believe...

It's hard to believe that it was 36 years ago today that my life turned on a dime. It was a cold January day as I kissed my mom goodbye and told her I'd see her later. I was off for graduation rehearsal at the high school and filled with wonder, anticipation and excitement. I was so excited that I turned back one more time towards her before heading out the door and said "I love you Mom" and she returned the sentiment in kind. Our class was so large that we had to divide graduation up into two parts and those of us with enough credits were given the privilege of graduating in January. Once at the school, we learned where we were to stand in line, how to move our tassels from one side to the other as we crossed the stage, how to accept the diploma with one hand and shake the principal's hand with the other and if we had been really lucky through high school, this would be the first time we'd be close enough to his face to see the freckles on his nose. Those who had found themselves in trouble through the years knew those freckles all too well. I had always thought that the freckles had been part of the rumor, but no, they really were there.


It was an ordinary day in the life of a typical suburban teenager... or so I thought. After graduation practice, a couple of us wandered over for a quick lunch and then I went to get my paycheck from Goldblatt's department store before heading home. I remember the sun shining brightly and glistening off the snow as I sang along to the radio, free from the classroom prison and looking forward to "adult" life. I had a strange feeling as I pulled into the driveway of the only home I had known my whole life. The house my dad had built on Scott St. in the city of Des Plaines, which is a suburb of Chicago and literally a stone's throw away from O'Hare airport. The air seemed still and quiet and that was a rarity in that close of proximity to the airport. I shook off the feeling and went bounding into the house like I had done on so many occasions before.
As soon as I opened the door, I just knew something was wrong. I saw my mom sleeping on the couch which wasn't that strange of a sight at all. She had been sick for quite a few years and was known to just stay on the couch for days at a time. What was different this time was that she didn't wake up as soon as the door opened. As a matter of fact, she didn't wake up when I called her. She just lay there motionless. I just knew. A rush of panic quickly streamed through my body but as quick as it entered, it left again and I sprang into training mode. She had taught me well on what to do in anticipation that this day would one day arrive. I didn't see her chest moving in the labored breathing that she had been doing for a while now. I didn't see it moving at all. No need to check for a pulse, like I said, I just knew. I walked over to the phone and dialed 911. I explained to the dispatcher that my mom was not breathing and non-responsive. In those days we had to give the information as to where we were located so I quickly told her our address and then waited for what seemed to be an eternity but was in actuality no more than a few minutes.


The ambulance pulled into the driveway and as I openend the front door of our house to let them in, the front doors of countless neighbors began to open to see what the fuss was all about. The paramedics went to my mom and checked for vitals and shook their heads at one another before glancing over in my direction. I stood there motionless but very composed. After all I was my mother's daughter and I had been trained well. No need to break down now, there would be time for that later. There was "business" to attend to. They loaded her lifeless body on to the gurney and covered her with a blanket. It was a cold January day after all. All the neighbors stood in their doorways as the ambulance passed by, quietly, with no rush. As I looked around the neighborhood, doors closed and they went on about their lives. I turned and went back to the phone.


I called my aunt and uncle who lived across town and gave them the news. I needed to go to the hospital to sign some papers and I would call them again when I got back. The next call was to a good friend of the family, who just happened to be a nurse in the family doctors office. Her husband would go pick up my little brother from school if I wasn't back in time to meet him at home and she would accompany me to the hospital and she called my church's office. I got in the car and headed north on Scott Street and she was standing on the corner as I pulled up to the street she lived on. She sized me over quickly and deduced that I really was quite capable of driving and let me continue on.


We got to the hospital and I was escorted into a room to fill out the papers. Lorraine waited in the waiting room for me. I was about half way through when my aunt and uncle came in. My aunt was very distraught and quite hysterical. I have to admit that I was a bit annoyed by it. My mom had been sick for quite a few years so while the exact timing might have been a surprise, the fact that she had finally died really wasn't. She was furious at me because I wasn't crying and all upset. She had no idea what I was feeling because quite frankly, I had no idea what I was feeling. I was sad but also relieved that my mother was no longer going to have to suffer. I had watched her suffer day in and day out. I saw her struggle to take a breath and struggle to walk the few feet to the bathroom. I had watched her struggle to keep up her strenghth on the rare occasion that someone would stop by to see her, only to collapse in a heap when they left. I knew that now she was at peace.


I finally finished the paperwork and was preparing to head home to break the news to my younger brother. I checked my watch and I knew I had enough time to get there and be there as he arrived home. My aunt and uncle decided to come to the house as well. I made them promise to wait behind a little bit so that I had a chance to explain to Kenny before they came in. It was going to be hard enough but I didn't need to worry about how much harder it would be on him if they were already there and she was out of control. Reluctantly they agreed and Lorraine wisely stayed behind with them to ensure they lived up to their end. I quickly raced home and straightened up a bit before Kenny came in. As soon as he came in, he just knew. He looked to me, his big sister, as the rock he had come to know over the past several years. He knew that somehow I'd lead us through all this.


He agreed to go stay at Lorraine's family's house for the evening so that I could go on to graduation. Now most people would have probably just canceled and not gone but that was never an option for me. Graduation was a very important thing to my mother and I wasn't about to let her down by not going and Lorraine was not going to let me go alone. There were three more calls I made, one to my boss, Lil, and one to Mrs. Harris who was the wife of my teacher and mentor who had died just two short months earlier and the third and final one to the phone company. My father and mother had been divorced for many, many years and I didn't have his phone number. He had a private, unlisted number and there was no way for me to reach him. I asked the phone company to contact him and ask him to call me, that it was an emergency. They agreed.


My aunt and uncle arrived and through, what I'm guessing to have been some stern warnings from Lorraine, acted like adults and did not stay long. They hugged Kenny, for which I was grateful and then said they would talk to us tomorrow. They were disappointed that I was going to go to graduation instead of going to their house but did their very best to hide their disapproval. I was, after all, my mother's daughter and they knew the stubborn streak that ran down that trunk of the tree all too well.


Shortly after they left, my father called and I filled him in. Now mind you, this was my father... he began to lambast me for calling him and disrupting his day. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why I had called him. Gotta admit that at that very moment, neither did I. Being the teen that I was, I just snapped back that "you were married to her for 18 years, I didn't think you'd want to just read about it in the Chicago Tribune. Sorry I bothered you" and I did something that would have met with disapproval from my mother, I hung up on him. She had always taught us to respect adults, but I have learned through the years that sometimes it's hard to respect adults who don't act like adults. Sorry Mom.


I went and cleaned up and got ready to go. I dropped Kenny off at Lorraine's and she and I went on to the high school. When I got there, Lil and Mrs. Harris were there for me as well. I had three very special people there to show their support and love. I remember being there but really don't remember too much about it. I know I got my diploma because I still have it in the box of memories that I have set aside in a corner of the storage shed. After graduation, the ladies took me out to eat - mostly to make sure that I did in fact eat. We went to a local restaurant called the Noble House in Mt. Prospect and they had live entertainment. The band was so sweet and even dedicated some songs to me and to my mother. I was truly blessed to have such sweet people in my life.


I went and picked up Kenny and headed home. He was still pretty upset and it took a while for me to calm him down and get him to finally fall asleep. Just as I was about to turn out the lights and head off to bed myself, the phone rang. On the other end was a very drunk version of the father I had hung up on just hours ago. This time he was being sweet as pie and the antenna in my brain shot up like a rocket. Of course HE decided that my mom would be buried on a hill under the shade of an old oak tree in some cemetery far away, yada, yada. Um, nope. My mom had left very explicit instructions and I was not going to waiver from all the training that I had been given. He and my aunt "had been talking" (uh-oh) and this was what they decided. I respectfully, yes really, declined and told them they had no say. I was meeting with the funeral director in the morning and I had everything written out in my mother's handwriting.


First thing in the morning I headed back to the high school that 24 hours earlier I was so looking forward to not having to grace again. I met with a counselor who helped me find and hire a local attorney. Imagine the look on my dad's and aunt's face when I arrived at the funeral home with an attorney in tow. Perhaps a bit of overkill but I was determined to follow my mother's wishes. They backed down immediately and let me handle it all. There I was at 17, the day after graduating high school, having to pick out a casket and all the arrangements to go with it, having to deal with disgruntled "family" and attorneys, and facing spending the next several months to a year settling an estate. Not what I had in mind for sure but I did what I had to do.


I grew up in a span of 24 hours more than most people take a decade or more to do. As the rest of my classmates were finishing out their high school years, I was heading on a train downtown to hearings and court dates. As they planned for the prom, I was settling into an apartment all alone. Kenny had gone to live with my dad and he refused to let me see or talk to him after that. It really was ok with me because I was having a hard enough time trying to take care of myself let alone a little brother too. Plus it was about time he took responsibility for one of the three children he fathered with my mother. My older brother had been missing for a few years, so I was dealing with private investigators trying to find him as well. Never did find him which made settling the estate that much harder. Not that there was really much to settle by the time the dust settled. They lawyers and PI's managed to wipe it all out in fees and we were left with nothing. I still had funeral bills and other bills to pay off myself and I paid back every last red cent owed.


So, you ask, why am I writing this now and why did I title it "It's hard to believe..."? Quite simple really, It's hard for me to believe that so many people can go through life taking for granted those everyday moments that can be wiped away forever in an instant. Oh it may not be on your graduation day, but mark my words, some time in your life you will cross that bridge. Please, for me, will you take just a few moments to really connect with those around you that you love? Will you tell them you love them and appreciate them? Can you do that for me? Because I can't do that anymore. Through the years I did make amends with my dad and my aunt and am forever grateful that I did before they too died. I learned a big lesson at a very vulnerable age and I have never let that lesson go to waste. In case I haven't told YOU lately, I love you and I am glad that our paths have crossed. Some of us walked the same road for a season and some of our lives just intersected for a moment, but each stretch of highway has blessed me and grown me into the woman that I have become. Thank-you and God Bless!