Last Load Delivered

I wish I could report that we finally are settled in our new home.  There are times when I wonder if that will ever happen.  While the process of moving and settling is definitely not complete, I can report that we did complete last stage of our move.  It only took us four months to complete all the stages that we established to make our move a bit easier on us.  I can congratulate myself on only taking four months to move.  I might have left the things in our storage shed longer, but Jim reminded me that one month's rent on the storage shed would pay for a cleaning lady once a month.  That motivated me.  

Back in September, I wrote in my blog (read it here) that we had completed Stage One and Stage Two in preparation for our big move which was occur in October.  I reported that our first stage required that we "Sort through professional papers, books, notebooks, teaching materials and memorabilia from the classroom and our professions." Once we had completed this task, which took a lot of doing, we then went on to Stage Two:  Move the things we have left from the basement to a storage unit.  

Today, we hired a couple of guys to move all those boxes that has been stored in a storage unit for the past four months to our home.  These two very efficient, energetic guys seemed to move all these boxes from the storage unit, into a truck in no time at all.  They then drove to our new home, unloaded the truck, carried all the boxes to the basement, patiently waited for me to determine which box would remain in the family room and which box would go to our crawl space that we are using as a storage area, and then they moved each box to its appropriate place.  Youth is on their side.  All of this took no time at all.  

Just before the movers arrived, I snapped a photo of the new bookshelves we purchased to hold the books that were stored in the storage unit.  Was I naive when I thought these shelves would hold all the books we kept?  Yes, I think I was.  Either that, or I was forgetful.  I forgot I had all those books in the storage shed when I bought these shelves.  Oops, somehow, I forgot that even though we got rid of nearly 1,000 books all told, we also kept quite a few.  These books were in the storage shed.  I wonder how I forgot that.  Perhaps, it was wishful thinking.  Today, my son asked where we had all these books before the move.  My reply, "Mostly in boxes in the basement."  Before the move, we got rid of old books that were outdated and that we not longer were interested in keeping.  I think we will be culling once again.  

Here is the view of boxes of books as they begin to arrive from storage. 

I really don't think I can fit all the books from the boxes on these shelves.  What do you think?  This is a view of one end of the large family room in the basement.  Jim's desk in one corner of the room.  The bookshelves are by the desk.  

This is another view of  view of the opposite end of the family room.  We have our television in this area.  I am still trying to decide the best use of the space.  I am also trying to put odds and ends in place.  The couch and the old pink chair lived in our living room in the old house.  They have been relegated to the basement in this house.  The couch is still in excellent condition.  I just didn't want it in my living room anymore.  I will get this area decorated at some point, but in the meantime, it is the place where old furniture and odds and ends are being deposited.  The old green footstools do not match anything.  Old, and tattered, I decided to move them and will recover them soon I hope.

 Here is another view of this room.  It is large, very large.  One end is Jim's study.  That is his black recliner on the left of the photo and the bookshelves are on the other side.  I am standing by his desk to take the photo.  

At this angle, I am standing near the television looking toward Jim's desk.  Yesterday, I nearly had all the boxes out of this room.  Now, it is filled again.  

The Stuff I Could Not Throw Away

After reading the above mentioned blog which was posted on September 29, 2012, I was struck by several things.

• I am amazed at how much stuff we have!  I thought we had gotten rid of so much.
• I am looking through the same professional books and papers again!  I thought I had done a good job of getting rid of stuff in September.  I find I still cannot get rid of so many papers.  I have no idea why.  I've decided to save my professional books one more year.  If I haven't used them in one year, I promised myself I will donate them.  
• I am struck by how much emotional attachment I have to things.  Somethings I just can't get rid of.  I found pillow cases embroidered by my grandmother.  They were turning yellow in a plastic container.  I decided the time is now.  Either I need to get rid of such things, or I should use them.  I decided they actually matched the duvet covers in the bedroom that the grandchildren use.  I will wash the pillowcases and put them on the twin beds in this room.  They will add a special touch.
• I am also struck by how important my time in the classroom was to me.  I just can't seem to part with cards from students, memorabilia that the students gave me, lesson plan books, unit designs, rubrics, and curriculum guides still hold a place in my heart.  I know I will never use them again, but I can't throw them away.  Do other retired teachers feel this way?
• Maybe I will have to hire a professional to help me get rid of all these papers.  

Just before we moved, I read a newspaper article about letting go of our 'stuff.'  I cut it out and put it on the refrigerator for reference.  I even saved the article!  I wonder where it is.  I remember that it said to save the stories about treasured items but get rid of the item itself.  I had such good intentions.  In the end, I just could not get rid of some things.  

At first, after I read the article, I decided I would not move the small table and chairs that my children used when they were growing up.  It sat in the kitchen next to the larger kitchen table when they were children.  It was the place where they sometimes ate their breakfast,  lunch, or a snack.  It was where they colored or played games.  When the children were grown, the small table and chairs went to the basement where it stayed until there was a family gathering.  Then, the chairs and table were toted upstairs for the grandchildren to use. 

I love this photo of the table.  Ok, really, I love the photo of Hannah using the table!  I just found it.  I would guess this was taken the day after a family Christmas party.  Hannah is enjoying one of those great cupcakes we used to always have for the kids.  Isn't she adorable?  Can you see why I could not give the table away?  It carries with it too many memories.

The photo below was snapped at a family Easter celebration.  Mason, Gillian, Hannah, and Atticus are all seated around the kids' table.  Julie, dressed in green, is leaning over the kitchen table.  This is just a quick snapshot of a family celebration, but now, at this date in time,  the photo captures a priceless memory of time gone by.  I notice the blanket no longer carried around by one of the grandchildren that is draped on my chair.  I notice Gillian is dressed in my apron and sitting on the pillow from my chair.  I see the cute little parkas the grandchildren wore flung on the hooks by the door.  

Now, the grandkids are grown up and the table is no longer needed.  

Mason and Gillian are teenagers.

They don't care about Easter baskets.

They would not fit in those chairs.

I have the stories.  

I have the photos.  

I kept the table.

It was in the last load delivered from the storage shed.  

It was placed in the crawl space.

I just could not get rid of it.

My Man is Back

My title for this post may need some explaining.  My regular readers may be wondering where my man has been.  In fact, they may wonder where I have been since it has been over two weeks since I last posted.  So, let me fill you in on what has been happening around here.

Jim, my man, sometimes known as my main squeeze, did not actually go anywhere.  He just has not been himself for quite some time.  As some of you might recall, in December of 2011, my husband dodged a major heart attack when it was discovered that he had a 95% blockage of his LAD.  You can read about that health scare here: Nails Dodges the Big One.

After this major life event, my husband was able to bounce back with renewed energy.  He lost weight, ate a more healthy diet, exercised three or more times a week on the elliptical machine, and walked a couple of miles a day.  Just one month after this crisis with my husband's heart, I fell down our basement stairs and suffered a head injury.  This meant he became the caretaker for me.  He took care of all the household tasks and drove me everywhere I needed to go.  More than that, he supported me through a very rough time in my life as I tried to overcome a traumatic head injury, a vestibular disorder, and debilitating anxiety.  At the same time, we had a very challenging new puppy that did not respond well to training.  Nails, another nickname for my dear husband, proved how tough and determined a man he was once again during this difficult time in our lives.  At a time when he should have been recuperating, he took care of me, and trained a difficult pup while recovering from having a stent placed in his heart just a few months before.

Early this summer, just as I was finally getting better, Jim began to experience some health symptoms that were perplexing.  He was extremely tired, his energy level was very low.  He no longer had the energy to work out or walk.   He seemed to be nauseated on a constant basis.  He experienced body aches, and he became nearly unable to walk because of pain in his hip.  Not only that, but he also began to suffer from depression.  I would ask him to describe what he was feeling, and he would say, "I just feel like I have a general malaise."  At first, I feared that his heart was bothering him again, but he did not have any heart related symptoms.  Every afternoon, he and I would each go to our individual studies, sit in our easy chairs, and take long afternoon naps.  His exercise routine stopped.  He suffered a lot of pain in his hip which did not allow him to walk far.

In September, after a summer of seeing my husband's health steadily decline, we decided he needed to be checked out by his cardiologist just to see if we could get some answers to solve the mystery as to why he was suffering from this strange malaise.   It was an observant LPN at the cardiologist office that discovered that the calcium levels in his blood were very high.  We were referred back to  our internist.  She seemed to have an idea about what could be going on with him and sent him to the hospital for additional testing that included scans of his neck.  After all the testing was done, we were told that he had hyperparathyroidism.  My husband was then referred to an ear, nose, and throat specialist.  Thankfully, we knew a great ENT, one we trusted and liked.  He reassured us that surgery would most likely solve his problems.

There is a mnemonic that our endocrinologist gave us to describe the hypercalcaemia that comes about because of hyperparathyroidism.  It goes like this:   Stones, bones, groans, thrones, and psychiatric overtones.  When one has hyperparathyroidism, there is a high level of calcium in the blood that causes these symptoms:

• Stones (renal or biliary)
• Bones (bone pain)
• Groans (abdominal pain, nausea and vomiting)
• Thrones (sit on throne - polyuria)
• Psychiatric overtones (Depression 30-40%, anxiety, cognitive dysfunction, insomnia, coma)* 

*Wikipedia

Needless to say, none of these symptoms are fun.  That is why we wanted to hurry up and have surgery to remove the offending parathyroid.  There was just one problem, Jim was on Plavix.  He had to be cleared by his cardiologist and taken off of Plavix before he could have surgery.  So, back to the cardiologist we went.  He said that he could not clear him because he was sticking with protocol and keeping him on the blood thinner at least until the one year date after the stent was placed in his heart.  One cannot argue with the wisdom of this decision even though it seemed that the hyperparathyroidism was filling my husband's daily life with other health challenges that made it so difficult for him.

Early in the morning of the Monday after Thanksgiving, I noticed my husband seemed to have a drooping mouth when I looked at him for the first time that day.  Stunned by this, I had him go through the FAST test.  He could smile, he could raise his arms, his speech was normal, but I decided that I was not convinced that he was not having an incident.  I had him take his blood pressure. It was incredibly high.  Wasting no time, I insisted he let me drive him to the hospital.

At the hospital, after getting an EKG, and after not performing too well on an initial neurological exam, he was admitted to the hospital where he spent two days being evaluated for stroke or TIA.  A stroke was ruled out, but it was determined, as it usually is with TIA, that the results were inconclusive as to whether or not he suffered a TIA.  He was told he was extremely at risk for stroke, and he was watched very carefully for those two days in the hospital.  Needless to say, that was a very scary time.

On December 6, 2012, exactly one year after the heart incident, Jim was able to go off Plavix.  We contemplated having his surgery done on December 20th.  He even scheduled it for that date.  Then, we decided we did not need to have the additional stress that surgery brings just days before Christmas. I'm glad we made this decision, even though Jim continued to not feel well and suffered from high blood pressure and other symptoms.

Finally, last Thursday, January 17, Jim had surgery to remove at least one of the parathyroids that had tumors.  It was unclear whether or not he had tumors on more than one because the scan clearly showed one and hinted at another.  He came through surgery with flying colors.

The next day, it seemed like I had my man back.  He was downstairs at his desk working and talking with friends on the phone with his old personality and sense of humor back in place.  He wanted to get out and go.  We went shopping.  He had a new bounce in his step.

The next day, he was tired from surgery, and he most likely overdid a bit the day before.  Everyday has shown improvement.  Today, he went in and had an epidural/steroid shot in his hip to alleviate the pain in his hip from spinal stenosis.  That procedure also went extremely well.


Despite this bout with bad health and pain, that is hopefully behind him, I have continued to be amazed by this dear man I had the good fortune to marry.  Each day, he has spent time with his beloved dog Boston. Each day, he cares for this dog by feeding him, walking him, continuing to train him, and spending quality time with him just sitting on the back deck admiring the mountain range behind us.   Boston is his good buddy and loyal companion.

Each evening, you will find my dearly beloved sitting in front of the fireplace reading.  He loves  reading those thrillers.  He never fails to remark how much he love our new home and how happy he is that we made this move.

He wants to get back to the gym and start tearing up the elliptical machine again.  He wants to get back to walking every day.  He has started doing Pilates on the reformer.  Yes, my man is back!  I am so grateful.

Thoughts on Beginning a New Year

Mostly, on this day as I begin the new year, I am thinking how fortunate I am to be alive, well, and have a future before me.  In just the past few weeks, two women I knew quite well passed away from cancer.  One, I met when she first took a class from me as she hoped to teach English and English as a Second Language.  She also worked in the International Students Office at Colorado State University - Pueblo when I taught there in 2010.  She reached her goal of getting her English degree.  She was a great friend and support to so many in the International Program.  Cancer took her quickly when she was way too young.  

And then, the mother of one of my daugher Julie's best high school friends lost her battle with ovarian cancer day before yesterday.  She and her family moved to Pueblo when I first married Jim and also moved to Pueblo.  Her daughter and mine became such good friends.  When Julie died, it was SAS, along with other close friends who came to our home and helped us grieve well by remembering Julie.  Their laughter gave me hope.  

Now, this dear girl has lost her beautiful mother.  And, her mother was beautiful.  She was one of the most gracious women I have ever known.  I knew her as SAS's mom and as an educator.  There was something about her that was special.  She was soft spoken, but firm.  She was intelligent, competent, and hardworking.  She loved her students and her teachers.  Her elementary school was a Blue Ribbon School.  Her accomplishments were many, but it was her job as a mother that should have won awards.  She raised two of the most beautiful, thoughtful, kind, and accomplished young women I know.  She died way too young.  My heart breaks for all who worked closely with her and for her family.

I am humbled to think that I have the opportunity to begin a new year.  I do not take this for granted.  I hope to honor these two women  by carrying them in my heart as I endeavor live more fully each day that I am blessed with life and breath. 

I ponder this word as I move forward into 2013:

exordium \ ig-ZAWR-dee-uhm \  

noun

1.  The beginning of anything.2.  The introductory part of an oration, treatise, etc.
The word for today from dictionary.com seemed to strike a cord with me today.  The English teacher in me was awakened.  I thought deeply about just what this word means to me and why I chose it as the topic for a blog post on this the first day of 2013.
Perhaps blog posts that begin the year focusing on a word is a new tradition for me.  Last year, I focused on the word hitherto.(Click here to read that particular post.)  As I have gone back and read the blog post I wrote on January 1, 2012, I was struck by just how appropriate that word was for all the events that would follow throughout the year.  In fact, the very next day after I wrote this post, I fell down the stairs, hit my head, and began one of the great trials of my life as I dealt with the aftereffects of a head injury.  
In this post, I also referred to a scripture in the Bible where Samuel erected a stone to mark a place where the people could remember that up until this time, or hitherto, the Lord had helped them.  He called the stone Ebenezer or Stone of Help.  How many times have I touched that stone of help in the past year?  How many times did I need those reminders that up until this time, or hitherto the Lord has helped us?  I would posit that being able to remember this simple truth that I wrote about on January 1, 2012 is precisely what helped to carry me through the trials, challenges, fears, tears, and anxiety that would grip me through much of the year.
And so, here we are today, January 1, 2013, looking at the beginning of a new year.  I can only look behind me to know the journey I have been on.  I cannot predict the future, but I can walk confidently into it with great anticipation and hope.  That is exactly what I intend to do.
I find this word exordium the perfect word for a new year.  It is a simple word that means the beginning of anything.  Anything is a pronoun that is not specific.  Anything means that there are all kinds of possibilities and opportunities that could present themselves throughout this coming year.  For me personally, it means that I have a true new beginning. 
I am living in a new home, a new neighborhood, a new town, and that means I have lots and lots of new things to explore this year.  Just think, my year will be the year filled with new adventures, meeting new people, eating a new restaurants, and establishing new routines.  Truly, I am blessed in ways I could never imagined one year ago.
The word exordium deserves a closer look.  After all, I am retired English teacher.  If I were teaching this word for today, I would have the students look at its Latin roots.  As a former student of Latin, I would be very interested in the Latin root of this word which is ord which means "to begin."  The prefix -ex  is the part of the word that really intrigues me though because in this case it means "utterly."  Utterly, completely and without qualification,  to begin anything seems to be the best way to walk into a new year.
Beyond the thoughts that come to my mind concerning the first definition of exordium, I also gravitate toward this word and latch on to it because  the word can be applied to the definition of a portion of the construction of a document or a larger piece of work.  The word has expository and literary ties.  The synonyms of exordium include: preamble, prelude, prologue, and preface.  
I've promised myself that this will be the year that I write.  I hope to work more on the discipline of writing daily.  I hope to join a writing group.  I hope to begin work on a memoir, or perhaps a book about my daughter Julie.  I hope to read more blogs and write more blog posts.  
There are new patterns for my life that must be established.  There are benchmarks to meet.  There are goals that I hope to reach.  Dare I list them here?  Yes, I think I shall.  This will serve as a record.
New beginnings for 2013

• Eat a more healthy diet simply because my health demands it.  I am pre-diabetic.  My numbers are not good.  The diet must change.  I like whole fresh foods best.  Why don't I eat them?  This must change.
• Walk more.  I love to walk.  Do what I love.  Get out there and walk!
• Love more.  I love people.  I have isolated myself too much in the last few years.  This year get out there and mix with people again!
• Give more.  Give of myself and my finances to help those in need.  I am blessed with life experiences that can help others.  Serve those who need help!
• Renew my teaching certificate.  I don't want to see it expire.  
• Reconnect with my profession.  I miss the classroom.  Perhaps, I will venture back into teaching a bit this year too.  
• Write, write, write.  I have a story to tell.  Maybe others would like to read it.

Well, that is a beginning.  

Happy New Year to you all!

A Season of Comfort and Joy

Christmas

A Season of Comfort and Joy

This year it seemed that the Christmas Season was truly one that brought me great

comfort 

and

JOY.

The preparation for Christmas seemed a bit overwhelming at first.  We had not even unpacked all our moving boxes when yet Thanksgiving was upon us.  My daughter Amy visited us on Thanksgiving for a few days.  I told her she could not go home until she put my tree up, and so she did, and there it stood, naked, without a thing on it, for nearly three weeks.  

One day, miraculously, it seemed, the Christmas boxes full of decorations that filled the dining room were emptied, places were found for all the beloved Christmas decorations, the tree was decorated, and the house was ready for whatever the season had to offer.  In fact, when the last Christmas decoration box was put away, I realized that for the first time since we had moved in on October 22, all boxes on the top level of the house had been unpacked!  For the first time since we moved in, I saw the dining room floor, better known as the unpacking place, without one box on it.  This was our first Christmas miracle that brought great joy.

A highlight of the season,

an event always sure to bring 

great JOY

and

 much comfort,

was

the East High School Girls of '63 Christmas Party.

The EHS Girls 2012

I love these women!

Sometimes I can't even believe that we are all still together after all these years.

We continue to laugh, and giggle, and make jokes whenever we are together and the years just melt away.

Iris and I, shown together below, comment often on how much this group means to us as the years go by.  Here we are joking about the size of our antlers.

Some of the girls went to grade school together.  I was blessed to meet them all when I was fifteen years old.  When I look into the faces of these beautiful women, I don't see us as older women who have known each other for over fifty years.   I  see my girlhood friends each of whom has the same sparkle in her eyes that was there when we were teenagers.  Some things never change.

High school  friendships that deepen, and grow over the years are priceless.

There are few greater gifts than these rich relationships.

Family time during the holidays also provides great JOY.

I didn't always have a camera with me to capture the wonderful time I've had with family.  Moving to Colorado Springs has meant that I am now back in the same town as my siblings and cousins.  For years, some of the cousins have not lived in Colorado.  In the past year, three of us have moved back to our dear hometown.  My cousin, Diana hosted a wonderful get together at her home just before Christmas.  Having just married her wonderful husband Steve in May, this couple, still honeymooners, were wonderful hosts.  Thanks, Steve for bringing Diana back home to Colorado!

Somehow, I didn't get photos of our first dinner guests in our home.

My brother and his wife came over to share some homemade Snow Chili, cornbread, and great conversation on the Saturday before Christmas.

On Sunday, my daughter and her two children arrived.

Mason is on his way to becoming a great gift wrapper.

I can't talk his mom into wrapping my gifts anymore, but Mason was willing to do so, and he did an awesome job!  

Boston basked in all the love and affection that he received from Hannah.

Hannah, who really, really wants a dog, (so does Mason) spoiled Boston rotten.

He received many hugs, belly rubs, and enjoyed cuddle time with his best girlfriend.

Christmas Eve:  A Time to Celebrate the True Meaning of Christmas

I love this nativity that we purchased a few years ago.
I love that it includes five sheep.
I place the little lamp next to Mary and think of Julie.
I think of her as spending Christmas sitting at the feet of Jesus.

Amy, Mason, and I went to church early on Christmas Eve where we were to meet my sister Carol.
Carol's great surprise and great joy was discovered when she exited her car in the parking lot.
Her son, his wife, and her granddaughter had driven in from California and surprised her in the church parking lot.  We were also so excited to see them home for Christmas.

Sister Carol surrounded by son Erik, and his wife Nancy and granddaughter Katie at our home on Christmas Eve

I don't know when I have been to a more deeply moving Christmas Eve service.
Many in the congregation lost homes in the fire this past year.
The service, a beautiful, inspirational candlelight service, reminded us that as was prophesied  in Isaiah

The people who walked in darkness
Have seen a great light 


Having walked through many a dark day throughout the last few years,
I felt great healing as I sat next to some of those I love most with tears running down my face rejoicing in the birth of the One who came to bring Joy to the World.

After church, our unexpected guests came to the house for dinner.  Thankfully, I had more than enough food.  I was a little worried I wouldn't have enough homemade rolls.  I rationed those until everyone got at least one.  Everyone was impressed that I can still bake good, homemade rolls.  (I was a bit surprised they actually turned out.)



As I told my nephew Erik, it is good to know that when one fixes too much food guests are provided to eat it all!

Christmas Eve in our new kitchen!

Sister Carol with her handsome son and beautiful granddaughter

Christmas Day

It was so much fun to have Amy and the children here for Christmas morning. 

Amy got a styling new hat!  Doesn't she look great?

The kids were so excited over their gifts.

Hannah got her longed for Uggs.  She looks so grown up in them!

After a brunch of more good food, the kids were off to spend the afternoon with their father.

I discoverd Boston in his bed shortly after they left.

Was he worn out, or was he sad to leave them leave?  I think it was a bit of both.

I took some time to practice using my new camera that my wonderful hubby surprised me with.

Isn't it just beautiful?

I love it.

It is my favorite color!

Then we welcomed the next round of guests who stopped by for a short visit.

Jim's daughter Trinette and her family Christmas 2012

They were followed by the next guests.

Jim's daughter Thia and her family Christmas 2012

And so, this is how we celebrated the first Christmas in our new home.

It was a white Christmas.

It was sunny and bright.

And it was filled with great JOY.

I'm Thinking of The Mothers...

I hesitate to write anything about the that terrible event that took place on Friday, December 14, in Connecticut.  What can I add to what has already been said?  Does it matter that I want to tell you that my heart is broken over the loss of those beautiful children who died in an unspeakable way?  Does it matter that my heart is broken that members of my profession died caring for students entrusted to their care?

No, my words of shock, heartbreak, disbelief, and sorrow really do not need to be added to all the other words that have been written in the public forum about this tragedy.  And yet, I must write because my voice needs to be raised so that all those who have suffered because of a senseless act of violence will know that they are not alone.

As a mother...
My heart is broken for those mothers who lost a child on day that most likely seemed like any other day.  I know those mothers never dreamed they would not see their children at the end of the day.  I know the shock that comes when you hear the words that we fear most in life, those words that announce that our child is dead.  I know that shock.  I know that heartbreak.  I have suffered hearing that news, but I did not have to hear that my child, an innocent six or seven year old, was brutally murdered.  I did not have to suffer that.  That, I cannot imagine.

If I could speak to these mothers, I would say...
Your heart will heal, but you will have a broken heart the rest of your life.  This broken heart will ache because you will never again look into those eyes that brought you so much joy.  You will never again hold that dear child again, and you will always ache to do so.  I hope that despite this ache, this pain, this sorrow, and this feeling that life just can't go on, you will find the resilience and the hope and courage to heal.

To the mothers of all those who lost a child at Sandy Hook, I would say...
You are now a member of a club none of us ever wanted to join.  All of us who have lost children hold you in our prayers.  We know of your pain.  We share your pain.  You are truly not alone.  You will heal best if you gather all the support around you that you can.  Grieving is a solitary action in many ways, but it is also one that also requires much support from others.

I was told by a doctor that I should not be afraid of letting go of my child for fear of forgetting her.  I don't know if that was good advice or not.  I only know that she lives on in my memory.  I remember clearly her eyes, her hands, her hair, her smell.  I remember her voice.  I remember.  I will not forget, nor will you.  She lives in my heart, the heart that is broken, the heart that is healing.

To all the parents who lost children at Sandy Hook, I would say...
There are no words to convey my sorrow.  There are no words that can begin to convey the pain that I feel for you as I think of you walking down that path that is in front of you.  I know there will be so many legal details for you to deal with.  That will be hard.  I know there are so many questions that will never be answered.  My prayer is that you will be strong, and that you will weep, but that in that weeping you will find healing.

On the first Sunday of December, The Compassionate Friends Worldwide holds a candle lighting ceremony to remember all  children who have died.  This year, I lit a candle for my daughter Julie.  Next year, I will also remember all of the beautiful children from Sandy Hook Elementary.  Please click on the link below to hear a beautiful song of remembrance for all those whose children died too soon.


http://youtu.be/N1TDZWr_j_I

The Mundane - Scrubbing the Floor

My days are consumed with:

unpacking,

organizing,

reorganizing,

moving things from one place to another, 

 trying to find out where an item fits best.

Adding to the stress of moving things around,

unpacking,

rearranging, 

I've thrown in the Christmas boxes

that now 

sit

lined up in dining room

where the other boxes 

all used to

sit.

The Christmas tree is up.

It is naked, except for the lights.

It is a pre-lit tree.

Every piece of furniture needs to be

dusted.

The carpets need to be

vacuumed.

The wood floors need to be 

swept

and

mopped.

It is the laundry room that is catching my attention today.

The laundry room is

the entryway from the garage,

the place where the dog is 

fed, 

and where he messily

laps up

 bowls of water.

The laundry room is

the place where the dog is 

kenneled

when we are not at home.

The laundry room is Boston's room.

The floor is

covered 

with dog hair.

It is

muddy and dusty.

No matter how much I feel 

compelled 

to unpack 

boxes

or 

to decorate

the Christmas tree,

I am more 

compelled 

to scrub 

the laundry room floor.

And so, I 

sweep up

the dog hair that covers the floor.

I then find some floor cleaner, and a rag.

I get on my hands and knees and begin to scrub the dirty floor.

Then, I

remember 

 Julie.

Julie was not yet two years old

 in the memory I have of her as I 

scrub

the floor on my hands and knees.

On that day, now 36 years ago

I was also 

scrubbing

the floor on my hands and knees

Christmas had just come and gone, and

the other children were back in school.

I was very, very

 pregnant

 with my last child, my fifth. 

Jonathan was born on the last day of January that year.

As a mother of four children under the age of ten,

pregnant,

with another soon to be born,

I was

very tired,

but the huge kitchen floor was very dirty.

On my hands and knees, I

scrubbed,

and worked 

my way around the room, 

getting every corner sparkling clean in preparation for the birth that was imminent.

Finally, 

the task of cleaning accomplished,

I headed downstairs to do a load of laundry while the floor dried.

Julie,

while I was downstairs,

went into the newly scrubbed kitchen.

I remember thinking she was way too quiet upstairs.

That was never a good sign.

When I came up the stairs,

my arms full of clean, neatly folded towels and sheets,

I heard pots and pans banging together.

I went to other side of the kitchen island to investigate.

There was

Julie.

She had been very busy.

She had taken all the canned goods out of the lazy Susan and put them on the newly cleaned floor.

She had then taken out all of the pots and pans and placed them by the canned goods.

She had then taken eggs and broken them over the cans of food, and the pots and pans.

My floor was a mess.

Julie was happily playing house.

I wanted to cry.

Today, I 

cried,

as I 

remembered 

that long ago day when I had gotten down on my hands and knees

 to scrub

the kitchen floor.

It was a mundane chore then.

It is still a mundane chore.

It is also a chore filled with treasured memories 

of a tiny,

curly haired,

little imp,

my little pixie,

always so busy,

always so inquisitive,

always so creative,

whom had made a mess on newly cleaned floor so many years ago.

I may have been exhausted,

I may have been overwhelmed,

but those feelings are forgotten.

I remember 

Julie

 while I

scrub

the floor.

Today, the mundane task of 

scrubbing

the floor brought back golden memories. 

I miss you Julie.

I love you.

Love,

Mom

XO 

Gratitude

Mentally flipping back the pages of the calendar to November of 2011, my husband and I were struck by all that has transpired in our lives over the past year.  These twelve months has been some of the most difficult days of our lives.  Amazingly, we both have come through health challenges and a major move.  Today, we are happily enjoying our new home and surroundings in much improved health.  Jim will need some surgery in the next month, but in so many ways, we are so much better.   Somehow, just saying that I am grateful for all this healing and change seems a bit trite.  After all, tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  Shouldn't we all be giving thanks?  Isn't that why we celebrate this holiday?

Gratitude is not something I have ever expressed enough.  I sometimes think I grumble and mumble about things more than I give thanks for things.  I take all of the good things in my life for granted too often.  I don't stop and take stock of all of my many blessings.  During the month of November, I have been writing daily facebook posts about those things for which I am most grateful.  Even that practice has not even scratched the surface when it comes to truly assessing the multitude of  reasons I have to give thanks.

This past year has truly been one of the worst in my life, but it also has been the year when I have most been aware of how blessed I have been.  In December of 2011, my husband had a 95% blockage of his LAD that was discovered before suffered what would have been a massive heart attack that most likely would have been fatal.  (You can read about this by clicking above.)  I don't even have the words to express my gratitude for my own ability to  recognizing his symptoms and get him to the hospital.  Thankfully, the doctors were able to save his life by giving him a stent.  Thankfully, he was able to recover his health quickly.

Not even one month after Jim's heart incident, I fell down our basement stairs and had a brain injury.  This injury was followed by months of dizziness and other symptoms that come from a moderate traumatic brain injury.  I also suffered from a debilitating vestibular disorder, heart arrhythmia, and episodes of a very rapid heart beat.  For over six months, I could not drive at all.  I also suffered from anxiety attacks that nearly crippled my ability to carry on my normal life.  During all of this, I also continued to deal with the grief of losing a daughter to suicide just a year and a half before.   Somehow, today, I can say with extreme gratitude, that I am no longer suffering from these symptoms that were robbing me of the life I had always lived.

Many people, those in the healing profession, family, and friends, have brought both Jim and myself to this current place of health.  I have had several women in my life who are in the healing profession without whom I would not be where I am today.

We have had two wonderful realtors.  One helped us sell our home in Pueblo, and one helped us find our wonderful new home.  We had a multitude of friends and family who helped us move from one home and get settled in another.  When I think of friends, I can't forget about all of you in the blogosphere.  You have been an important part of my journey this past year.

I have a mother who prays for me every single day.  She is 96 years old.  I am blessed beyond measure to still have her in my life.  I have four beautiful children and seven amazing grandchildren.  I am also blessed by three stepchildren and their beautiful children.  My family life is rich and full.

This past year, my awareness of how shallow my gratitude expressiveness has been throughout my life was made painfully clear when I read Ann Voskamp's amazing book, One Thousand Gifts.  This book played an important role in my healing.  As I read and reflected on Ann's beautifully crafted words, I struck by the simple truth that gratitude brings healing.  When one is suffering from scary symptoms that cause one to think that life as one knew it is forever changed, it is difficult to feel gratitude.  When one is broken by grief over the loss of a child, it is even harder to find a reason to give thanks.  Somehow, throughout my journey through grief, I have learned that my capacity for appreciating life has gone deeper, my soul has been expanded.

In the margins of Voskamp's book, on April 29, 2012, I wrote, 23 months today next this passage:  "Love's a deep wound and what is mother without a child and why can't I hold on to now forever and her here and me here and why does time snatch away a heart I don't think mine can beat without?  Why do we all have to grow old?  Why do we have to keep saying good-bye?"  These words were so painful to read 23 months to the day after I lost my beloved Julie.  I too had once stroked my beautiful girl's curls.  Tragically, the last time I did so was after she died.  How could I feel gratitude?  How could I not be bitter?  How could I not stop living when I told her good-bye?  How could I go on when I would never again hear her voice or feel her arm draped around my shoulder?

Many days, I sat in my chair and prayed for healing for my husband, for my children, and for me.  Ann writes, "The only real prayers are the ones mouthed with thankful lips."  Wow!  That struck me hard.   I have this wonderful family in my life.  They are the blessings of my life.  How could I not be thankful to have them to pray for?  Many days I feared what the future would hold for all of us.  Finally,  I chose not to live my life in fear.  I chose not to fear losing again.  Ann also writes, "All fear is but the notion that God's love ends."  Since I know in the very core of my being that His for me love does not end. It never has.  It never will.  I am able to be filled with gratitude.

Expressing gratitude frees the mind to see all that one has in this life.  This is premise of Voskamp's book.  She set out to write down one thousand gifts for which to grateful.  It transformed her life while she kept this list.  She helped to change mine as I read about her lists.  She helped me to learn how to be thankful in the midst of much turmoil and illness.  For that I am very grateful.

So while tomorrow will be filled with the traditional Thanksgiving activities, when I give thanks, it will be with a new sense of gratitude for more than I could ever begin to list. The short list will include much thanks for healing, for new beginnings, for a wonderful supportive husband, and for a family of children and grandchildren all of whom bring me great joy and give rich meaning to my life.

Trying to Settle In

Moving is exhausting!

Boston and Jim took some time to rest in the midst of all the unpacked boxes and mess.

Bit by bit, we are getting it done.

We are sticking together and tackling the task ahead of us one day at a time.

I keep being asked, "Are you all settled in yet?"  I just want to answer with a curt, "Are you kidding?"  Tomorrow, we will be able to say, "We have been living in this house for three weeks now."  In someways, those three weeks have seemed like a very long time.  We are growing accustomed to our surroundings.  We are beginning to establish a routine.  This place is even beginning to feel a bit like home.  We are not settled in yet though.

I am still writing this blog from my favorite chair in the corner of the guest room.  I have not yet set up my desk, my office, my writing space.  I did finally unload the top of my desk.  It is no longer covered with boxes.  I have not unpacked any of my office supplies.  I don't even know where my mouse is for the computer.  Thank goodness I use a laptop.  Thank goodness a laptop allows portability and connect-ability.  I think I have finally decided which room will house my office.  I think my husband and I have decided what space will work for his office.  Thank goodness, we are finally getting a vision on how to set this house up to best suit our needs.

We went from a two story house with a full unfinished basement to a one level patio home with a finished basement.  We had four very large bedrooms at our former home.  We now have three bedrooms that are not very large.  Two of our bedrooms were large enough in our old home to allow for space for a bed and an office.  This is no longer the case.  In theory, I went from a five bedroom house to a three bedroom when it comes to space.  What I didn't realize, was that I also gave up three very large closets!  I had a lot of stuff (please note how descriptive that word is!) in those closets.  Now, I am trying to figure out what to do with my stuff.  My new favorite place to shop has become The Container Store!  I am constantly on the search for better ways to store and have access to all that stuff that I need. Believe me, this stuff is the important stuff.  I still have a storage shed full of stuff that isn't important that I need to deal with at some point.  For now, I am just dealing with the important stuff.

The kitchen was the first challenge in this new home.  I also didn't realize that I was giving up a large pantry, a pantry I constantly complained about and didn't appreciate.  The pantry in this house, and the kitchen cabinets, took me about a week to arrange.  I am still rearranging.  My husband, my dear sweet husband who is patient and helps me so much, is still asking me to show him around the kitchen so he can figure out where items go.  I have rearranged quite a few times trying to make sense of where each item should be placed.  It has all been like one big puzzle, but I think the puzzle is finally coming together.

I love my new kitchen.  I love cooking in it.  Yes, I am actually cooking.  That is not something I have done much of over the past 15 years.  Our lives were too busy while we were working.  Then, after retirement, I just never took up cooking again.  I never liked my kitchen before.  I loved how I had fixed it up.  I loved its colors, but I didn't like cooking in it.  This kitchen has less storage, but it is more functional, and I love being in it.

The first floor of our home is finally free of all boxes!  This is something to celebrate.  Now, I have to empty the dining room table of all the china and crystal and get it loaded into the china cabinet.  That doesn't seem like it should be such a big task, but it is.  The only thing I have more of than shoes is china or dishes.  I love dishes almost as much as I love shoes.  The everyday dishes are arranged in the kitchen; now I must take care of  the "good" dishes.  I must get them all put away.  I lamented that I could not remember how I had the china hutch arranged.  Thankfully, my husband had taken a picture of it before we moved.  Now, I just have to look at the picture and not rethink how to arrange it all.

We are finally also making progress on the basement.  A good friend of Jim's came over on Saturday, the second time he has been here to help, and loaded a lot of things into the crawl space.  He brought his seven year old son who thought it was just really cool to take things into the huge crawl space.  Wow, was that ever helpful.  Our friend, Rob, also helped us get a vision for the family room.  I think we know what we will do with the space now.  He is coming back with his family to help us arrange it all and unpack books.  We would not be where we are without the help of friends and family.

It hasn't been all work and no fun.  We take time each day for a walk in our beautiful surroundings. 

On the day after we moved in, I took Boston for a walk around our little block.  Just three houses up from ours, as I rounded the corner, I was again awestruck by the beauty of where we live.  This scene that I photographed is just steps from our home.  This sight, the white sandstone rocks, the stately pines, and the Colorado blue sky, are there for me to admire when I round the corner from my house.  I still can barely believe I have the blessing to live to in this beautiful place.

As I rounded the next corner, I saw a few of our neighbors were checking us out.  Boston and I are the new kids on the block.  I'm not sure what they think of us.

Boston was surprisingly polite while he met his new neighbors.  He sat quietly without barking and kept his distance.  I guess he didn't want to appear too eager to meet the other animals in the neighborhood for fear they would scamper away.

Boston spends most of his time gazing out of the window at his friends.  This keeps him entertained throughout the day.  He has his favorite viewing spots.  This one is in the living room.

Our lives are very different here.  Our vistas are different.  We are settled in a small community of patio homes just over the hill from the Air Force Academy.  We drive two and a half miles from the interstate up a wooded road to our home.  I breathe a sigh of relief, of peace, whenever I drive this beautiful road on my way home.  I am away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and yet, in just minutes, I can be anywhere in the city itself.  We are surrounded by nature, trees, and lot of wildlife.  I saw a fox tonight as we were driving home.  I understand a bobcat lives in the area.  Needless to say, Boston no longer is able to run freely in the yard, but I think he is ok with that.  We give him walks, and he goes to doggie daycare to play on special days.

We have wonderful neighbors.  Everyone has been so friendly.  We are all about the same age.  Most of us are retired.  Everyone stops to chat when they are out and about.  Everyone waves.  We have had visits from our closest neighbors.  They have brought food, flowers, and housewarming gifts.  They have given suggestions on handymen and even helped with advice on where to hang pictures.  We think we will be very happy here.

I have longed for a sense of community.  I have longed to be near my family again.  I worried that my husband would never really adjust to moving to a new town.  So far, we are almost feeling like we are on an extended vacation as we get to know new places to explore.  We are in the honeymoon stage.  This past Friday night, we thought we would settle in and not go anywhere.  For the first time in our marriage, we ate in on Friday night.  (Really, that is the truth!)   For the first time in years, we did not go out for Mexican food on Friday night.  Jim put on his pajamas early.  Then, we remembered we needed something from Home Depot before Jim's friend Rob came over on Saturday morning.  Jim changed from his pajamas to his clothes and we were off into the night.  We drove all over looking for a yogurt place.  We found it and ate frozen yogurt just before the place closed.  On our way home, I said, "We were in a rut before we moved.  It is good to do new things and go new places."  Just tonight, as we came home from another trip to explore new places, Jim said, "I love living in Colorado Springs."  I am so happy he is happy here.

We've had our moments of profound homesickness.  We miss much about our former hometown.  We lived among the most wonderful people in the world.  We lived in a place with great tradition where people have roots that go deep.  We lived in a place that we dearly loved, but it was not where our children and other family members lived.  We were an odd rarity in Pueblo.  Most everyone in that town was surrounded by family.  We were not.  We knew our children would never move back.  That is why we moved.

The move has been very unsettling in many ways, but in others, it has also given us a chance to begin again.  For me that was most important.  I needed a new beginning.  I needed a new focus for my life.  I've never believed a place will make you happy.  I still believe that.  This place will not make me happy, but I know that I will be happy in this place.  Jim told me this past week that he thinks I am happier here.  He is right.  I am happier because I have the opportunity to move on with my life.  We are both able to rebuild again after great loss.  We've always been at our best when as a team we are building something new.

As we settle in, we recognize that we must take it slowly, one box and one day at a time.  We also recognize that we are starting a new chapter in our lives and in our marriage.  This is a something for which we are both very grateful.

Election Day Memories

Election Day Memories

(This post is an edited and updated post of an original post I wrote in November of 2008)

Well, the big day is finally here. I hope you all get out there and vote. I have been thinking a lot about our family and its involvement in politics.  

My earliest memory of things political involves a visit to see President Harry S. Truman when he came to Colorado Springs by train in October of 1952.  He was actually on a Whistle Stop Campaign for Adlai Stevenson.  The photo below was taken in Colorado Springs, Colorado on that very day when I had the exciting opportunity to view the first President of the United States that I remember.  I was only seven years old when I had this introduction to political campaigning.

My parents took us to the train depot that day and stressed how we were not only fortunate to see the former president, but also they wanted us to see history in the making.  My father always brought us up with a rich appreciation for history.  He also taught to take very seriously our responsibility to be informed voters who used our voice by participating in the political process.

My paternal grandparents,  Avery and Elva French were staunch Democrats.  (They are shown in this photo from 1971.)  They always, as far as I know, voted the straight Democratic ticket, and they were very involved in local Democratic politics.  Grandma French was an active member of the Jane Jefferson Club of Colorado Springs.

We all turned out for that day in 1952 to see Harry S. Truman come into town.  I was surrounded by my parents, my siblings, my grandparents, my aunt and uncle and my cousins.  We all loved Harry.  I remember being hoisted up on my father's shoulders so I could see the President.  I still remember the excitement I felt that day.  The memory has stayed with me with great clarity these sixty years later.

Those days, politics seemed kinder and gentler.  Even so, I remember hearing tales from my grandmother of back room deals that were brokered in the game of politics.  Such things always angered her. Politics has never been a game for the faint of heart, but I find the nastiness and dishonesty or half truths that we hear today during a political campaign especially upsetting.  I also am sickened by the money that is spent on campaigns.  I think it is immoral for either party to spend the billions they do on campaigns. I will be grateful to have the current campaign behind us after tomorrow.  I do wonder if we will really hear the end of it after November 6 though.

In 2008, Jim and I went to see then candidate Barack Obama when he came through Pueblo during his campaign.  It was a very exciting day for us.  I try not to be political in this blog, but you will probably guess who my candidate was and is by the photo I am including.  I guess you could say our Democratic roots run deep.  Jim's father was a loyal supporter of Harry S. Truman, just as my grandparents were.

Another Election Day Memory

I haven't always been registered as a Democrat.  I have always had a more moderate view of politics as an adult, and for many years, I registered as an Independent.  When I was a young wife and mother who stayed at home and did not work, I did a few odd jobs to earn money. One job I had, involved working as an election judge. The precinct where we lived in Utah was Democratic. They needed Democratic election judges, so I changed my affiliation to Democratic from Independent. The first election I worked was not a presidential. It was in the early 70's and the home where we voted was in a very poor part of Ogden, Utah. The woman who had the election in her home had done so for years. She was the mother of at least 12 if not 13 children, and she must have weighed about 250 pounds. She was in her late 50's, about 5' tall, and had stark white hair. I thought she was fascinating. During the day, she told us stories about elections and raising all of her many children. She reminded me of the Old Woman Who Lived in A Shoe. This house was tiny! It had three bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom and a kitchen. It was crammed full of furniture, books, papers, junk, and people. This is where our precinct voted! Mind you, she worked hard to keep her home as a polling place because she made extra money for holding the election in her home and by working as a judge.

The other judges and I brought food for the day. There were crock pots of great chili, veggies, chips, cookies and etc. I met some great ladies working as the other judges,  and I met many interesting people who came to vote. Of course, as folks left from voting, the other judges told me all the gossip and life histories of these folks. I just wish I would have recorded the events in a journal.

Times were very different in those days.  The polling places were held in homes, not always in schools or other public places.  There was no early voting.  This year my husband and I voted by mail.  That did not happen in the 70's.

Election Day 1976

In November of 1976, on the two hundredth anniversary of our country's founding, I hosted the presidential election in my home. I finally reached my goal of earning $50 for working an election.  I made $25 for hosting the polling place and another $25 for working.  The polling place had to change in our precinct that year, and my home was selected. Our home was a bi-level, so there were complaints by those who came to vote about the site being moved from where it had been for years, and about the stairs they had to climb.

On the day before the election, my husband and I had moved much of the furniture out of the living room so that the tables for voter check-in could be set up there. Voters then could either vote in booths in the kitchen, or the booths in the basement family room, which also had been emptied of furniture.

I remember that our neighbor was one of the judges. Her ex-husband and son travel around the neighborhood with a speaker system in their truck exhorting people to get out and vote. Julie was just a baby at the time, and Amy was a toddler.

Jimmy Carter won the election. My folks were for him.  I have a letter from them to prove it.  I was not for Carter.  So, as you can see, I have not always voted the Democratic ticket.

In 1976, I used the extra money from working the election to help buy the Christmas presents that you can see in the photo of Julie on Christmas morning in 1976. This was after much of the money had to spent on cleaning the carpets. Do you have any idea how dirty gold carpet gets after a presidential election is held in your home???

I don't remember working as an election judge again after that year. Perhaps, I worked one day in North Ogden. I don't remember,but I have memories of voting in North Ogden, Utah in the home up the street during the year that Reagan was elected. We already knew he would probably be president when we voted in the evening.

This year, history will again be made in this election. Please vote. Record your memories of why you voted the way you did.  I think your children and grandchildren will be interested someday in reading about your views.  More importantly, your commitment to voting and being a part of the political process is a teaching moment.  It is not a responsibility to be taken lightly.

Home

Welcome to our new home!

Our New Home Colorado Springs, Colorado Friday, October 19, 2012

Twelve days ago, we posed on our new front porch.  We were happy and excited to be finally moving to our new home.

Wow, were we ever naive.

We hadn't moved yet.

Everything seemed orderly in our lives.

We had finally sold the home we had loved so well for so long.

We had purchased the home we had fallen in love with in my hometown of Colorado Springs.

We celebrated by spending a wonderful, last evening in Pueblo at The Rusted Poppy Inn, a wonderful bed and breakfast.

I'll have to tell you all about that great place later.

I took lots of pictures.

The place is awesome.

The next morning we were supposed to begin our move.
I will spare you the details.
Let's just say we had the move from the hot place.
Our movers were less than competent.
It took them three days to complete the task.
At 9:30 p.m. on Sunday, the third day of this move, I was so fried mentally, emotionally and physically, I left our new home, and my credit card to pay the movers,  in the hands of my competent oldest daughter by marriage, Jim's daughter Thia, and went to the hotel to go to bed.
She, her husband, and her son stayed at the new house waiting for the last load of stuff to come from Pueblo.  Jim spent the night in Pueblo and didn't get to our new home until 5:00 p.m. the next day.
Thia held the mover's feet to the fire until all boxes were appropriately placed in the house and the job was completed sufficiently.
I owe her big time!

That same evening, when we were in the throes of the move, my youngest daughter by marriage, Jim's daughter Trinette, and her husband Nathan and I went out to sit on our new deck for a moment.
The evening air was warm.
There was a slight breeze in the aspen trees surrounding our deck.
I looked out on the beautiful meadow behind us.
I looked west to the mountains so close it seemed I could touch them.
I felt as if I were at a resort in Vail or some other wonderful place in Colorado.
I could not believe I was on the deck of my new home.
In that moment, I knew this place would be a place of
comfort,
peace,
and a place that would truly be
our home.

The next day, October 22, was my husband's birthday.
I didn't have time to give him a card.
I didn't even have time to wish him happy birthday on Facebook.
He was Pueblo supervising the cleaning of our house we had sold and vacated.
I was in Colorado Springs trying to make sense out of the placement of boxes all over the house.
We had guests coming at 6:00 to celebrate his birthday.
Yes, I'm crazy like that.
I have a party with guests on the first night I move into a house!
Finally, at 5:00 my dear husband, the birthday boy, arrived home with Boston who had been kenneled for five days while we made the move.
I captured his birthday portrait on our back deck next to the door that goes to our bedroom.

At 6:00 our guests arrived.
Thanks to Thia and Brad, my husband had cake and ice cream for his birthday party.
His day and our first evening in our home was celebrated by two of his daughters and their husbands, some of his grandchildren, my cousin, and our realtor.
It is good to live by family again.

Happy Birthday, dear Jim. He celebrated by moving into our new home.

Since that time, we have tried not to be overwhelmed.
Although, I must confess, at times, many times, I've felt like just sitting down and crying.
I still have boxes everywhere.
The kitchen is finally unpacked and everything is in place.
I have the bathroom set up and organized.
The closet is getting there.
Thanks to my sister, my dining room is unpacked and china is sitting all over the table.
Thanks to a dear friend of Jim's, Rob, pictures are hung and other tasks we could not do are done.
My sister Carol has been a lifesaver.
We've had a lot of fun playing house, arranging furniture and moving things around.
Thanks, Carol.

Tonight, I am sitting in our guest room.  It is in shambles.
My desk is not functional. It is still covered with boxes.
The family room looks like something from an episode from the hoarders.
So does the garage.
So does the storage room.
So does the other guest room.

I don't know when I will dig out.
I am trying to take it one box at a time.
I am trying not to obsess over my need for order.

We are both a bit homesick.
Jim was terribly homesick on Sunday.
Today, I am.
"Do you feel like this is home yet?"  I asked Jim after dinner.
"No, not yet.  How about you?" was his reply.
"No.  Not yet."

Home where is it?
At times, I step outside and I feel the air, look at the mountains, and am filled with great peace because
I am home.
I drive the familiar streets of my hometown.
I am home.
I am happy.

I also am in a state of unsettledness.
I'm not home yet.
I miss my old home.

The sermon I heard on Sunday summed it up.
I sat next to my sister and listened to the words of the pastor and listened to the familiar voice of my sister singing.
It made me realize we all have a longing for home.
This place will never be my home.
I hope to make this temporary earthly home a place of peace, a sanctuary from the hustle and bustle we faced for so many years.
It is good to be in a place where old memories of loss do not linger.
It is good to be starting over.
I have new energy and new interest in making this house a home we will enjoy.
We are located in a bucolic setting.
I am amazed at the beauty that surrounds me.
I have been greatly blessed with this new place of residence.
I also know that my longing for home will not be satisfied on this earth.
These places where we live are only temporary.
They hold great meaning,
but they are not our final destination.