2012

This year has been....a year.

I've joked with John all year long that the catastrophic events of this year were all his fault. He was the one who said that 2011 was the year that all years would be compared against as far as the level of suck was concerned. John lost both of his grandfathers that year, and we had a huge falling out with his brother, sister, parents, and remaining grandmother. He was quite sure it couldn't get worse. However, before February was even over with, God decided to take his challenge and make sure that those were not words that John will ever utter again, especially if he wanted to live and do well with me.

January:
John lost his job. We found out that my niece and possibly my nephew were being sexually abused by their father. He was arrested. My sister-from-another-mother and good friend Andrea was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer.

February:
Andrea went to Houston because her colon was so messed up none of the local doctors would even touch her or begin treatments of the cancer. John's cousin's wife committed suicide.

March:
Andrea was still in Houston. My dad was hospitalized for what we thought was pneumonia. He ended up having both strains of the flu as well as pneumonia. He was so deprived of oxygen and sick that he ended up being put on a ventilator for 4 days. They were concerned  that because of the lack of oxygen because of how sick he was that he might have suffered brain damage. Fortunately, his brain was only as damaged as it was before all of this.

April:
One year since Grandpa passed away. One year since all of the fallout with the family began.

May:
Finals. Need I say more.

June:
Summer school - thankfully this month wasn't so bad, and we were thinking that the year was looking up.

July:
Just trucked along

August:
School. Hate most of my professors. Liked the classes. Hated the professors. Arg.

September:
Andrea's colon ruptures. She spent a week on a ventilator. Worried that she might not make it out of the hospital. But thankfully she rallied, and went home. She spent almost the entire month in the hospital. Her husband suckers my husband into going to the lease. Thankfully no dead animal adorns my walls..yet. I discover that something isn't right with my innards. Go to ER the day after my 33rd birthday. Told to go home and take the narcotic pain meds. Tried that, but didn't remember going to school and a variety of other things, so just took thousands of ibuprofen trying to survive the worst of it.

October:
Felt so bad that I don't remember anything, other than trying to make it to class and to work. Pretty much quit cooking and cleaning completely. Basically didn't study much either. Just felt so, so bad.

November:
Finally got the referral to the specialist. Had actual surgery to remove very, very sick gallbladder the week before Thanksgiving. Felt some relief for the first time in months. Then the joys of a body adjusting to no gallbladder.

December:
Finals. Failed my first class. Probably because I shouldn't take a final the same day that I had to say goodbye to my sister-from-another-mother. December 6th, Andrea went home. There's a post in there somewhere about her. But I just can't write it yet. I barely could type those words without breaking down into tears. Stressed about followup with gastro, because the pain was back. Thankfully gastro thinks it's just my body adjusting.


Sure, there have been some high points, and some of the issues, like John losing his job, actually have turned out to be a blessing. And well, some of them, like losing Andrea just suck. So while most of this year was events that I could have done without, like the gallbladder epidemic, I don't know that I would change any of it. Even Andrea. As much as that breaks my heart to say, I think that her being a part of my life served a purpose, and I think that losing her will serve a purpose too. Even though I'm not sure what it could possibly be at this point. She did teach me a great amount about forgiveness, faith and believing in myself. But that's another post entirely.

So, my request for 2013 - Lord, give me the strength to make it through whatever it is that you throw at us this year. Help me to have more patience during those moments of insanity and suck, and help us find peace, not matter what the situation. And if you could help out with my GPA, I'd be eternally grateful.

Cheap...or Brilliant?

A few weeks ago my husband and I were catching up on our huge list of DVRed tv shows. We both remember our parents watching the original show Dallas. Heck, John was even born right in the middle of an episode.

We figured, we would watch the new version when it came out on TNT so that we could see what all the fuss was about. There's just enough intrigue involved to keep me interested. Which takes a lot, considering the majority of the crap I watch on TV involves police, dead bodies, suspects, and jail cells.

So imagine my surprise when we were watching this particular moment and up pops this image on the screen.

Huh. That looks vaguely familiar. So I start yelling at John to "pause it". Apparently I'm yelling rather excitedly because he starts scrambling like I've just told him the world is going to end. So after he rewinds it, we pause, and low and behold.

See, this picture was taken on the table in my office at home.

And this picture from my office at work.

John and I both found it rather ironic, that Dallas, a television show that was as popular as it was back in the 80's would be so cheap in it's new venture to purchase a stereo from Walmart. Makes me want to record all the episodes again, and start looking for stuff from the dollar type stores.

They could have at least plugged it in so the message center was blue. They were so cheap that they bought there stereo from good ole Wally World, that they couldn't waste the electricity on that little blue area.

As I was typing this (I've had the pictures saved in a post for weeks), I realized that my grandfather used to watch westerns. Lots of John Wayne westerns. Lots. And I remember him pointing out trains in the background, and numbers that showed the cabins that they were using were actually part of some retreat or hotel. He was always so busy watching the scenery to point out these things that most people don't notice, that I wonder, if he actually knew all of what was going on in the movies. Or maybe, he had just seen them so many times, that he knew them by heart.

It's funny, the things that you miss. He would have had a good laugh about my $40 stereo being on TV.

Time Flies

One summer, I remember being particularly bored and actually ready for school to begin again (don't judge, I get excited about school supplies too) and was whining to whoever was within ear shot about how bored I was and how slowly time was moving.
My grandfather, whom I adored, informed me that a week to me was a year to him. As an 8ish year old, it wasn't really a profound statement, although I remember my mom standing nearby and being in complete disbelief, and amazingly so agreement. I thought they were both crazy. Now I know why. Well, I don't know why they were crazy, I'm not sure a psychologist could even answer that question, but I understand the disbelief.

*It's hard to believe I've been at TTU for almost 2 years. I'll finish my second year and 5th (thanks to summer school) semester in December.

*I'll be 33 in September.

*John and I will celebrate our 13th Anniversary in December.

*The puppy that John gave me for my birthday, just before our 2nd anniversary, will be 11 years old this year.

*My other furry baby will be 10.

*My grandfather has been gone for 8 years this October. He would be 90 on Halloween.

*My grandmother 6 in January. She would be 82 in October.

*They would have been married 64 years this year.

*My niece will turn 12 in August. I remember when she was just a toddler with little blonde ringlets.

*Her brother turned 9 last month. I remember when he was born.

* I remember my stepsister telling everyone else that she was pregnant, but avoided telling me because she knew how devastated I would be, because at the time John and I were pursuing infertility treatments to have our own child. I remember tears running down my checks when she finally called and told me that she was having a baby in just 3 short months. I sat in the floor of our bedroom and cried when we hung up.

*I remember the day that John and I agreed that we couldn't keep doing treatments. It was only yesterday, but actually it was 6 years ago.

*I've been at the same job, since we moved for 4 years last month.

*My 15 year high school reunion is next year.

*I remember when I had to by hair dye because my husband informed me that I had several gray hair patches. That was last week, his funeral will be soon...I just have to find him first.

It's funny how the older we get our perceptions and our perspectives change. I have an amazing friend (who I'm quite sure we are sisters and were separated at birth, because she is the only other person I have found who doesn't like the milk after cereal has contaminated it, along with a variety of other freaky similarities) who is currently fighting cancer. Her oldest child, who is absolutely adorable and brilliant (no, I'm not biased), was born 2 months early. Her perception of time is probably vastly different than mine. Although I'm sure that there are moments that time passes us both by faster and slower than we would like it too, yet, we both grasp that it's moving way to quickly when it comes to the grand scheme of things.

There are plans and choices that we are making in our life right now that have a expiration date on them. Once we begin in order to reach our desired end result, we have to commit to spending 2 years on the process. Right now that seems like a dreadful length of time to wait, especially for something as special as the end result would be to both of us. Yet, there are other things going on in my life that I want to give a chance too as well (I would elaborate more, but we are avoiding all parents, family, friends, and people who actually know us, so that we can be completely happy with this choice and have no regrets later on down the road to elaborate now), so that a prior option that wasn't an option might actually be an option.

And if you understood any of that you deserve some sort of medal. Because I wrote it, I knew what I was talking about and I don't understand any of it. You're Welcome.

My point (which was lost about 3 paragraphs ago), was how time keeps ticking away whether we want it to or not. And my grandfather, he was right. When your waiting for something big, 2 years will seem like a lifetime, yet when your just trucking along trying to finish college, 2 years will seem like yesterday.

So the question remains, what will you regret in a year that you didn't start doing today?

Finding Faith

Last Friday I posted the following post on Facebook: ""And I'll praise You in this storm and I will lift my hands, For You are who You are no matter where I am, And every tear I've cried You hold in Your hand, You never left my side and though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm." ~Casting Crowns. Send us a few extra prayers today, we have hit a bump in the road and could use some additional strength."

Then on Monday, well you can read about the tragedy that our family endured over the weekend.

Then yesterday, we got more news, that we could have lived without. John's grandmother, Granny, has a mass on her brain.

For about half a second I wanted to cry.

My husband's unemployed, my beautiful niece's heartache, and now Granny.

Yet, as I sat in the truck with my husband, this immense feeling of peace washed over me. It was as if I had taken a breath and blew all of that stuff out and everything was perfect again.

Then I wanted to laugh. Pure laughter, not sarcasm, not because it was the only thing going to keep me from having a meltdown in our driveway, but simply because the thought of that old saying that "God will never give you more than you can bear" popped into my head.

Apparently, I can handle all of this. It's no big deal. God has faith that I can handle this.

So that got the wheels turning and had me wondering, if His faith in me is great enough that I can handle, working full time, school full time, husband's unemployment, nieces situation, Granny, then shouldn't that faith in Him to get us through all of this be twice as large, if not larger?

Sure, I felt silly laughing and joking with my husband about "bringing it", not that I was asking God for more sorrow or heartache, but that I was just so impressed by God's faith in our strength, in my strength. So we laughed, and we both knew that no matter what, everything was still ok. If not even good.

We have a place to live, a car, we are both healthy, I'm still employed. We have so much, and there are some with so little, that it's not unreasonable to have these moments of joy in the midst of unhappiness and trials and life lessons, or whatever you want to call this.

Sure, I have moments where I panic, but they are moments. There are moments of worry, but it's not constant. Because every single time that those thoughts pop up, I have prayed. Some days there have been a lot, and other days, just a few. I've asked for my husband to find a job he loves, I've asked that my niece find peace, I've asked that Granny's mass be something simple and easy to fix. I've asked for the strength to wipe the worry out of my mind so that I can focus on homework.

I'm simply putting one foot in front of the other and hoping that we can learn something from this, that I can learn something from this. There is a blessing in here somewhere. I just have to find it.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

Saying Goodbye

I have dreaded today since July 5th. We knew that we would have to make it official and say our goodbyes, and move forward, I just didn't realize how hard it was going to be. I have quickly learned that each person that departs this life for the here-after, whatever that might be, that you grieve for each person differently.

When my Gangie died, I remember being numb. I can't remember much from the days and weeks after his death. I know that most nights I drove around and did my newspaper route, crying like my heart was broken. Which it was.

When my grandmother died, I remember the numb feeling, but I also remember the grief for my childhood. She was a big part of so many different memories, and the more I have developed a love for cooking, the more I miss her. It was still heart breaking, but I don't remember feeling numb, our relationship was different then.

When Grandpa past away in April, it was different. We weren't as close, and I didn't feel the impact like I did with my own grandparents, whom I had a very, very close relationship with. So it was normal. It felt normal.

Yet with Papa, because it's so recent and so new, and because of my own special relationship with him, it's mind numbing again. It's exhausting. I find myself going to bed at night and getting up the next day and I feel like I haven't slept in days. Then I look at my father-in-law and his sisters and can't even begin to imagine how hard it is to lose a parent. I know that your supposed to bury your parents and never your children, but I don't think that either can be easy. I don't think that there is any cure all, other than time.

What makes this so hard is the fact that it feels like we have drug this all out since July 4th. We are just beginning. Even though he's officially been gone since the 16th, until Friday, he won't be really gone.

Amazingly so, I'm looking forward to the memorial service. I'm looking forward to listening to my father in law, and his sisters tell stories about their dad. I'm looking forward to the family that will be gathering to celebrate his life. I'm looking forward to the new memories that we will be making and sharing with our kids and with our cousins kids later.

Because like it or not, death is a part of life, and without an ending, life would be meaningless.

Patience is a Virtue

The past week has been one of the longest weeks of my life. We have waited. We have prayed, we have cried, we have hoped, we have lived. We have survived on little sleep, poor diets and broken hearts. We have waited.

Today, we still wait. Today, we wonder. We hope. We hope for peace. Each day we watch him decline. We watch seziures that result in the brain damage. We pray for him to find peace. We pray for him to let go. We pray that whatever is keeping his body and spirit from moving on, comes soon. We pray for each other. We try to go to work and about our lives as best we can, knowing what the outcome is going to be. We know it's just a matter of time.

I don't believe that some miracle will occur and that Papa will wake up and be really made that we have sold his stuff to pay for his funeral expenses. I don't believe that he is going to wake up one day and be able to speak and talk to us. I believe that death is inevitable.

But what right do I have to not believe in anything? What right to I have to not believe in a miracle? What right to have not to believe in general?

I know when my husband has a severe wreck that I prayed that he was OK. I prayed that he would be ok. I prayed that the people in the other car would be ok. When my dad had a heart attack, I prayed. I hoped that he would be ok. I hoped that he would slow down, I hoped he would be around for a while longer.

Yet each sickness and each event that has occured within the last week, I have simply asked that God's will be done. His will. Not mine. His. It's not that I don't want Papa to be around for another 50 years, but each time I find myself praying, I start out asking for his comfort and his peace, and then I find myself telling God that his will be done. Not mine. His.

So for the past few days I have wondered how differently my thoughts, my faith, my marriage, and my life in general would have been if I had prayed for things differently. If I took the control out of my hands and put it back completely where it belongs. I'm a control freak by nature, I like to know what's going on, and offer my opinion on how to fix it. I like to know what's happening at 2pm tomorrow and the day after that. I like structure, routine, control. Then that gets me to questioning my infertility. I have always said that it was all up to God, but that's been one of many areas of my life that I just haven't been willing to turn over. That I haven't been willing to let go of. Sure, we go about our daily lives, but there is always a part of me that wants a baby, I grieve for the child that I have never had. After the past week, I have been led to wonder what would happen if I handed the control back over. If I let go.

The situation with Papa is definitely in someone else's hands now. We continue to pray, we continue to hope that his comfortable, and that he is at peace.

Still we wonder? What's God waiting for? What's the big plan? What are we missing?

Independence Day

Independence Day. After the last forty-eight hours those words will have a whole new meaning.

Today we wait. We wait for test results. We hope. We pray. We reminisce. We hope.

Last night we talked about the pain that Papa has suffered with. We talked about how hard that would be. We tried to prepare ourselves for the worst, all the time hoping for the best.

Sunday morning John's phone rang and we got the news. Papa had suffered a heart attack in the early morning hours. As we got to the emergency room, we were unprepared for the sight of him laying on the gurney, with a respirator sitting with him, helping him to breath.

We learned that the nursing home staff had found him, at approximately 4 am unconscious and in respiratory distress. They began to administer CPR, and in the process of trying to get him breathing again, he went into cardiac arrest. We have no idea of how long his brain was deprived of oxygen. But we hope.

Sunday evening we heard the results of the CT scan and we were pleased that there was no brain injury, mass, or bleeding. We continued to hope. Yet, we knew that the neurological consult would give us more answers.

Today, we hear the news of his lack of response. My heart just broke. As prepared as I thought I was for this outcome, for the possibility of no recovery, hearing that he was unresponsive as they poked and prodded him, I knew that the outcome wouldn't be what we wanted.

Yesterday, July 4th, was supposed to be a time of celebration and joy. It was supposed to be a day of celebrating our nation's struggle to become independent, to celebrate the birth of our government. Instead, it became a celebration of something else.

It became a celebration of life.

48 hours ago, Papa sat in a nursing home waiting for tomorrow when he would return home. 48 hours ago, things were fine. Until a little respiratory problem became a big problem, that led to a heart attack, that led to oxygen deprivation, that led to severe brain damage.

Last night we were given the prognosis. Last night, a son and two daughters made the choice to give their father his independence. They made the choice to send him home. They gave God the freedom for his will to be done.

And today, we wait. We wait for those beautiful moments when God's divine plan will shine through. We wait for those moments when a child will be reunited with the friends and family that have gone before him. We wait for the moment that his spirit is free from his body and that he goes home.

Over the last few weeks we have felt so guilty about the choices that we have made to move out. To move on with building our life. We have struggled with finding peace about the choices we have made.

Yet today as I write this, and as I have had conversations with Papa's beautiful daughters, I have found that peace. I have also seen God at work in all of our lives in ways that I have never seen Him at work before. And that has been beautiful. The duplex that we are renting fell into our laps. It was perfect. Size wise, price wise, location wise. It took days from the time we looked at it, until the lease was signed. Days. The day we signed the lease was the day that we learned that Papa was coming home from the nursing home. Several days later we told him of our departure from his home. And while there were times of strain and tension on our relationship during the 2 weeks that he was home before we moved out, we all tried to make the best out of the situation. We moved out the day after he went back to the nursing home to undergo 2 weeks of rehab and therapy to regain some of the strength that he had lost.

His two weeks was up tomorrow. He was supposed to go home tomorrow. Now I believe that he will go home tomorrow, just not to the one he owns.

There have been so many moments in my life when I have seen God at work. When I have felt his presence, his comfort, his love. There have been times when I have seen his plan revealed and there are times when it has been harder to find. There have been days where I have questioned my faith, and his presence in my life. Yet yesterday I realized that he knew that today was coming. He knew that our lives were going to be turned upside down and our hearts inside out. He knew. He spent the last two weeks helping us to get ready, of finding our home and setting it up. He spent the last two weeks making sure that we wouldn't have to go back to his house and stay there knowing that Papa would never sit in his recliner or walk down the hall or see his babies again. And for that I will always be thankful.

I can imagine that the next few days and weeks will be hard. I can imagine that as we all move forward with our lives that there will be moments of intense sadness and intense joy as we celebrate his life and as we share our memories of him.

Today I'm thankful that God is in charge. Today I'm thankful that he prompted Papa's daughters to come and that they were here yesterday with their big brother and that he had put the idea in there heads a month ago to come here to see their dad this weekend, even though they decided on a date at the end of the month. I'm thankful that our entire family will be able to lean on him and find comfort and peace in the days and weeks to come. I'm thankful that our family has each other.

It Ain't for Sissies

There are stages of life that each one of us must pass through. Infancy, childhood, the dreaded teenage years, and finally adult hood, where you realize that your parent's aren't as stupid as you thought they were.

After seeing John's grandfather at home the past week, I have a new idea of getting old. I don't think that no matter what you do, it can't be done with a lot of dignity.

Granted, every case is different. Every person is different, so the struggles that Jerrold has won't be the same for everyone. His younger brother's life is drastically different. He still works, and has minimal health issues that keep him from living life on his terms.

It's been hard to witness the things that have came with old age. It's been hard to see Jerrold have no real desire to do something different about the circumstances. It's been hard to see him have no real desire for a different outcome. Instead he wants our sympathy. He wants everyone to be the optimist and see that in a week or 2 that he will be "back to normal". He wants to believe that. He wants us to believe that.

The last 24 hours have given me a glance into how our lives would be so very different if we weren't moving out. Do I feel bad? Yes. I hate that he can't care for himself. I hate that he pushed and bullied his doctors and nurses into letting him come home sooner than he was ready. I hate that their own desire to make their lives easier clouded their judgement. After phone calls between the nursing home, home health, and adult protective services; they are in agreement. Even Jerrold has admitted that there might be a small possibility that he shouldn't have came home yet.

Yesterday as we packed and continued to prepare for the move this upcoming weekend, I think that a reality set in for him. I think that he began to understand that things were fixing to be very different. That his life would be very different. I hope that his eyes were opened and that he is preparing himself for what's to come. I hope that he understands that this isn't a joke, and that in 6 days, he will be living alone again.

I hope that when Adult Protective Services shows up today, that he doesn't fight them. I hope that he listens to what they tell him, and that he follows their advice, willingly. Because after the past weekend and watching him sit in his own feces and urine for 38 hours, he is out of options. He is going to have to make some hard decisions, or adult protective services will make them for him.

Getting old is hard. Your body is worn out. And with all the abuse and injuries that his body has seen, it's a miracle that his hasn't failed him before now. His feet are healing and look so much better than they did. But another few weeks of the same routine as he has had the last week, he will be headed back towards the direction that brought all of this on. He has already discontinued his diet. which the high blood sugar helped his feet continue to deteriorate in the first place. It's sad and it's terrible to be powerless.

There is no dignity in getting old. You can only hope that you have taken good enough care of your body that if it starts to fail you that you can still continue to use an adult diaper to help with the embarrassment. You can only hope that you are still capable of changing yourself and tending to your own needs. You have to want to maintain some level of dignity, some level of self respect in order to survive.

One things for sure - getting old ain't for sissies.

Flying the Coop

The drama just keeps on churning around here.  I think that I have entered the Twilight Zone.

Too much more of this and I'm going to personally call those men with the little white coats that allow you to give yourself a hug, and have them come pick me up, put me in a little white jacket, and poke me in a padded room all day long.

And no, I'm not kidding.

I dreaded telling Jerrold that we were moving out. I knew that because of his own financial irresponsibility that the situation was going to be difficult for him. I knew that it was going to cause him stress and strain. But we wanted to wait until it was an absolute necessity before we did anything. However, late Friday night we discovered that he was going to be released from the nursing home sometime Monday (yesterday) morning.

Well, needless to say, Plan A was quickly scrapped and Plan B took over. Plan B involved panic. So we scrapped it for Plan C.

We had to go to the nursing home on Sunday and pick up the extremely large quantity of "crap" that had been acquired during his stay. We figured that we would tell him then, considering it was quite obvious when he got home on Monday that something was going on. As some of our stuff has "disappeared". We knew that it would be difficult, we knew that it would cause problems. We knew that his grandfather is not in a financial situation that he cannot live without a roommate or some sort of other assistance. We know that. He knows that.

Until he was in the hospital and we were paying his bills did we finally realize exactly how his financial situation would play out. He is going to have to make some hard decisions. He is going to have to make some big changes in his life in order to be able to support himself financially. He is also probably going to have to apply for medicaid, food stamps and other state programs in order to help to make ends meet.

We had several reasons for our move. My financial aid with school being the primary, and then the stress of caring for Jerrold while we both work and go to school was the second. We weren't just doing this to be cruel, or for the heck of it. It's time that we move on.

Instead I was blamed for wanting to have a life. For wanting to have my dreams and desires fulfilled. I think that he thought because of his situation and circumstances that I would be willing to quite school and my job and care full time for him. He was awful to me. Absolutely awful. He said things that I would have never dreamed he would say.

I realize that we took him by surprise. The whole situation has taken my by surprise. Because this time last week, we weren't moving. We had no plans to do so. We found something we could afford, so we jumped at it. It was just as unexpected to us. But we weren't cruel about it.

Jerrold took the "me, me, me" attitude. He tried to guilt us. He tried to put several home repairs onto us. That we had to pay for. Technically we are the tenant. He is the landlord. Those responsibilities fall on him. We have cooked, cleaned, done laundry, remodeled a laundry room, put tile in the kitchen and bathroom, and those are just the most recent things since we have lived there. We have tried to make his life easier, and now when my dreams are threatened, he wants to take that all away from me.

I felt guilty about moving out, especially with him coming home from a 2 month hospital stay and with him not being able to care for himself without some sort of help and assistance. Then yesterday, and the words that he said to me. I'm just counting down the days. I can't find anything other than a sadness that he had to behave that way; that things had to end like they did.

John and I have had several conversations about what to do and how to handle the situations that keep arising amongst the family. We still don't have any answers. We both feel that they are just trying to cause problems. I just don't know what to do anymore.

What I don't know is how it's our fault that he hasn't been responsible with his limited funds. He is 77 years old. And he has proven to me that you can skate through life and never be an adult. That you can still be as irresponsible as as 17 year old. Because of his poor choices he has managed to alienate all of his family. Sure, they still love him, but they don't respect him. They feel that he has made his bed. Let him lie in it. They are tired of his "me" attitude and tired of bailing him out, and they have washed their hands of him and the situation.
I'm praying that we can make it through this whole ordeal and he not completely ruin his relationship with us completely. I'm afraid it might not happen. I'm afraid that he is going to push us away and turn on us, like John's grandmother had done.

I'm afraid that he is going to put himself into a position to push the rest of his family out of his life. And I'm tired of fighting an uphill battle with family. They should be the one group of people that fight for you, not against you. They should be the one group of people that pull you closer, not push you away.

I just hope that Jerrold can find peace with this, and better control his own actions before it's too late to repair the fragile relationship with John's family that we are both trying to keep from breaking.

On a side note, they never should have released him from the nursing home. He cannot walk or stand long enough to even get out of a chair or bed and into his scooter or wheelchair. Someone has to physically pick him up to accomplish this. He is home alone all day today. I dread going home tonight and seeing what a disaster there is waiting.

Wordy Wednesday

I had planned on writing a post yesterday. But when I woke up yesterday morning and figured that I would have to feel better in order to die, you guys just weren't a priority. Not puking on my boss, that was a priority.

There is a lot that has happened since last Friday. We have been busy completely turning our lives upside down.

The time has came. We made some serious choices this morning, and now we wait.  We are moving. We are leaving John's grandfather's house, which has been our home for the past 3 years.

Part of me is sad. We have lived there for so long that it's home. We have had the benefits of living cheaply and rent free, but on the other hand it has cost us a lot. We have strained relationships with family because of this, and I'm afraid that what we have witnessed is only the beginning. I'm afraid that there are going to be harsher words and things said, and that we are going to doubt this move.  I'm having doubts. It's terrifying to go down this road. To have to worry about money again, when for the last 3 years, I haven't had to count every penny. We have managed to get out of debt. We have managed to do a few things that we wouldn't have otherwise dreamed of. It's been freeing.

On the other hand we have taken care of a man that no one else has wanted to. That no one else can be burdened with. And sadly to be losing those duties is a relief. Mostly because I'm tired of not being good enough in general, but I'm good enough to take care of the people that no one else wants to. I'm going to be selfish. I'm going to make this about me and my own life and well being. And my own happiness. Parts of the last 3 years I have loved, but the majority of it has been spent with dread and walking on eggshells. And if everything works out, in a few short weeks, I won't be doing that anymore.

Do I feel guilty? Absolutely! I was raised that you took care of family. That you stepped up to the plate. That you didn't shrink from your responsibilities where family was concerned. But John's family sees things differently. Because I'm afraid that when Papa comes home that we will still be stuck with the burden of caring for him. So I go from relief to anger. It's like flipping a switch.

This afternoon, I have simply prayed. I prayed that if this was the direction that we needed to take that God put his stamp of approval on it. If not, to please let my own needs scream louder than His voice so that I might know which path to take. And for patience if this isn't the right time, and for understanding to all of those who will be effected. We aren't only changing our lives, but others as well.

8 Days of Thanksgiving

Today I am thankful for my grandparents.  I have one set that is currently residing in heaven, and the other set resides 2 blocks over from my parents.

My maternal grandparents were more like parents, instead of grandparents.  Growing up, they lived, what would have been the equivalent of the house across the street from my house.  It could be walked to in a minute and ran under 30 seconds. 

I had a wonderful relationship with both of them, and I will always be thankful that they were such a big part of my life growing up.  So many of my friends didn't have grandparents close enough to participate in their lives on a daily basis.  My grandfather went to football games, and band practices, and little dribblers games, and as a child, it was always nice to have them in the stands, knowing that they loved me.

I'm thankful for the months that my grandfather lived with us.  I'm thankful that I had him all to myself with no interruptions.  I'm thankful for the stories that he told me about his own childhood, his time in the navy, and the trials of farming and ranching.  Of how he did iron work at Hoover Dam.  I'm eternally thankful for those memories. 

My grandmother and I didn't have the same kind of relationship, but it is through her that I got my love for cooking and cook books.  She taught me to always stand up for myself, and for what I believe in.  I'm pretty sure that she also gave me my stubborn streak, and the need to be right.

My dad's parents haven't been a part of my life since I was a baby.  They came along when I was 17, and they have welcomed me into their family, and they love me.  Even though they came along late to the party, they mean so much to me, and I'm thankful for the relationship that I have with them.  For their thoughtfulness and selflessness that they have both demonstrated through their actions towards me, and when I got married, towards John.  I hope that I am half as wonderful as they think that I am.  Their faith in me, and their support of all that I do means so much to me.

Today, I am thankful that I have such amazing grandparents, and that they have all been as involved in my life as they have.  I'm thankful that they spoil me, and love me.  And my only hope is that they all know how much that they mean to me.

~What children need most are the essentials that grandparents provide in abundance. They give unconditional love, kindness, patience, humor, comfort, lessons in life. And, most importantly, cookies.         -Rudolph Giuliani


~Being grandparents sufficiently removes us from the responsibilities so that we can be friends. -Allan Frome


~The history of our grandparents is remembered not with rose petals but in the laughter and tears of their children and their children's children. It is into us that the lives of grandparents have gone. It is in us that their history becomes a future. ~Charles and Ann Morse


~God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say "thank you?" ~William A. Ward