RECALCULATING....

Recalculating....

If you have done any amount of traveling you may have used a GPS system on your phone or car to navigate you from Point A to Point B.  On using such a system, maybe you have experienced the calm voice of your navigational guide informing you of a wrong turn or action that has taken you out of your programmed route.  The voice...usually a feminine one...tells you she is "recalculating" your route and continues to communicate instructions to return you to your desired path. Honestly, some days I feel like the Queen of Recalculating! 

Have you ever felt like you were just barely moving along on an unknown, unmarked, dimly illumined highway? Has your life been detoured through the selfish choices of people around you, your own foolish choices, an unexpected medical diagnosis, or just crazy unexplained circumstances?  Maybe you woke up one morning and wondered, "How did I get here?"

I have been pondering this verse as I continue to find myself in a perpetual state of "recalculating." "A man's mind plans his way (as he journeys through life), But the Lord directs his steps and establishes them." ( Proverbs 16:9)  Given I believe in an omniscient God, this verse gives me hope and peace.  My Father God, already knows the who, what, why and where of my life.  He knows me and my wanderings from beginning to end....every detail, big and small....every emotion I will ever feel...every tear I will cry...every giggle and snorting belly laugh...every reaction, right or wrong...every person that will cross my path...every word I will utter...every sigh that escapes my lips...He knows it all. 

When life happens and detour signs appear, seemingly out of nowhere, my God not only directs and re-directs my steps, He establishes them as well.  Webster says the definition of establish is to make firm or stable, to cause to grow and multiply, to bring about. When I am my wobbliest, most unstable, insecure and confused self, God is shoring up, anchoring, and even rebuilding the roadway underneath my faltering, stumbling feet.

In this peculiar season of my life I am aware that I walk a little slower, no longer in the grip of busy-ness....I stop to soak in the soft pastels of a setting sun....I relish puttering in my kitchen,the creativeness of cooking, and savoring the fruits of my labor....my soul yearns for solitude, quiet, a good book, meaningful conversations with friends and loved ones. Surprisingly, one morning I woke up to discover I had new traveling companions....contentment and restfulness had slipped in quietly beside me to accompany me on my thoroughfare of life.

IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE.....

IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE...

I'm sitting in our family room half watching Thursday Night Football and drafting this blog post.  My husband of thirty-nine years is stretched out on our couch with a fiberglass cast on his right arm, a healing six inch laceration over his right knee and a body with miscellaneous bruises and trauma- induced aches and pains.

A month ago, the driver of a car made a decision not to wear the prescription glasses required on their license, and turned in front of my motorcycle riding husband. In the blink of an eye our life was turned upside down.  Gary's injuries required him to be transported by ambulance to a larger hospital where orthopedic specialists would be able to repair his hand and knee. Due to the level of pain involved, the process of debriding and cleaning his injuries could only be done under a general anesthetic.  He remained hospitalized for two days hooked up to IV antibiotics to guard against infection in preparation for the second reconstructive hand surgery scheduled for the following week.

Our life has become centered around medical appointments, revolving drug prescriptions, insurance companies, restless and sleepless nights and an unknown future.  Yet, in the midst of all the pain, slithering dark fears, exhaustion, and unspoken questions about what his "new normal" will be, we have experienced an outpouring of love and concern beyond anything we could have ever imagined.

Friends gave their time waiting with my son and I during Gary's second surgery...and neighbors have mowed our yard.  At the time of the accident we were in the middle of a room make-over and our house was a chaotic construction zone. We swallowed our pride and sent out SOS's for help. Our precious friends and family came to our rescue to put our home back together and bring peace and order to our now un-ordered life. Food, phone calls, visits, texts, messages, prayers, cards, hugs and even flowers for me...each and every intentional act of kindness has been cherished and gratefully received in our hearts.

Sooner than expected I am once again a full-time caregiver.  Gary is learning he has limitations and has to listen to his body for his activity level each day.  Oddly enough, our marriage has been challenged and strengthened at the same time. We are thankful beyond words that he is alive. We are living out our days at a slower pace, marveling over the autumn colors and the coolness of the air that caresses our skin.  Meals, even breakfast, are savored with the celebration of candlelight. Weather permitting, our lunches are eaten outside in the warmth of the sun.  We take the time to interact and enjoy the presence of the people who cross our paths each day.  Every sunrise and every sunset is a gift not to be taken lightly, ignored, or taken for granted.  We are aware like never before....that in the blink of an eye....life can be forever changed....

With servant's hearts, they made sure their Papa was taken care of.

.

LEGACY...

LEGACY....

Webster defines the word legacy as a gift of property, especially personal property and anything handed down from the past from an ancestor.

My dad has been gone six months now.  All summer I've been doing exactly what I knew I would be after his death....nickel and dime-ing away his legacy of property.

The pictures say it all.  Three storage units full to the brim, stacked precariously , dusty and dirty from time and neglect.  My dad loved garage sales and auctions.  He never purchased antiques or items of value.  Instead, he was the guy who took home the boxes of mystery contents for ten bucks! And in March, I became the heir of all those mystery boxes.

Almost every Saturday this summer I have slowly rolled out of bed to a five a.m. alarm, made my coffee, dusted on some make-up, donned work clothes and gloves and semi-organized the mystery boxes for their eight a.m. debut to curious, bargain hunting, avid garage sale-ers.

Each sale as Gary and I sent my dad's treasures off to new homes, unexpected story-lines began to emerge.  As we told our story of what we were doing and why, people opened their hearts and their lives to share their own stories of loss and heartache.  Sometimes their eyes would tear up and there would be that catch in their voice as they spoke of the hard, disease-laden, suffering filled journeys of their loved ones.  Saddest of all, though, were the tragedies of how families were ripped apart and estranged over the material belongings of the deceased parent or grandparent.

My summer of garage sale-ing has caused me to pause and ponder what I want my legacy to be for my loved ones and friends.  What do I want to be remembered for?  What deposits will I leave in the hearts of those whose lives intersected with mine?  What about you?  What legacy do you want to leave for your own family? What stories will they tell about you at holidays and family gatherings? 

I pray you do some soul-searching along with me and create a legacy that is a gift of the heart...

My dad, my son and my first-born grandchild....creating a legacy of the heart...

THE EMPTY CHAIR....

THE EMPTY CHAIR...

My dad is gone.  It is surreal to even type the words.  If you read my last post from February, you are already aware that he was living out his final days and weeks.

He was bedridden the last two weeks of his life and slipped quietly away on March 30.  As he crossed into eternity with Jesus, my husband and I were with him... quietly telling him we loved him... I stroked his cheek and kissed his forehead until he drew that last breath.

The following days were filled with phone calls, funeral arrangements, family arriving and friends coming to love on us.  Within a week of his death, I had the "first" holiday where he wasn't sitting next to me at the dinner table.  The empty chair....  I was so grateful my children and grandchildren were still with us.  Their presence softened the reality of the loss of his presence beside me.

My family and friends have all returned to their lives and our home is quiet. My sweet husband has been faithful and patient to listen as I talk through the memories that come and go like the ebb and flow of an ocean tide. He holds me when the tears come unexpectedly and seemingly at random.  I have given myself the grace to grieve as long as I need to and in the ways that are unique to me.  

The coming summer months will find me sorting through my dad's earthly belongings and wandering through the history of his life.  I expect it will be a bittersweet... healing... tiring... blessed experience.

I miss him.  I do not wish him back to this earth...but I miss him. I hope I always remember the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice and the way his eyes twinkled when he smiled. My little girl heart will always remember him as my bigger-than-life, John Wayne, gun-carrying, cowboy boot wearin, dad.

Living in the Shadow...

Living in the Shadow....Psalm 23

On the evening of Christmas Day I found myself in the emergency room, with my dad in yet another health crisis.  After almost 4 days in the local hospital, he was transferred to a hospital 90 miles away.

He was hospitalized for 30 days and I lived most of my days in the room with him. When I wasn't at the hospital, I slept and rested at a friend's house a few blocks away and spent weekends with family for a bit of a respite.

This time he wasn't able to recover like the many times before and I had the heart-wrenching decision to make to bring him home to a local long term facility on comfort measures. Two weeks have passed and tomorrow he is transferring to yet another facility, supposedly better equipped to care for him.

The unexpected twists and turns have thrown me off balance, exhausted me beyond anything I have ever experienced, and caused me to rant and yell at my God....and cry alot. 

I am living in the valley of the shadow of death and trying to live out the other parts of my life in the light. I have discovered I am mortal, human, fragile, angry, strong and weak, terrified at times...and unable to control my dad's journey to eternity. I had a friend say to me today...."the end of our lives is sometimes portrayed as a sunset....it's not always a sunset." This is no sunset.... 

My life will go on...but my dad's is coming to an end. I came across this scripture a couple of day's ago and it gave me pause to smile and grab on to a little grace and peace. It is from the story of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15.  My dad is a Prodigal.  He lived most of his life seeking the pleasures of this world and the pleasure of his flesh.  He paid a high price....But he eventually made decisions to live differently and make peace with those he had wounded as best he could.

I believe his Heavenly Father sees him, his pain and suffering, and is running towards him with a welcome and love unlike any other.  

"So he got up and went to his father.  But while he was still a long way off his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him;

he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him."

Luke 15:20