Quarantine mixed with Retirement

 A year ago today, Vance had extensive open heart surgery. He had a few complications which extended his hospitalization to thirty seven days. Meanwhile, besides visiting him twice a day, I was settling us into another home with the tremendous help of family and friends. There was a water disaster at the new residence but we ended up blessed with three rooms of new carpet. My sister found a new to us vehicle to replace my less than reliable ride. So many decisions! 

Vance came home to the mix of new and familiar.  He loved it all.  He also came home to a different world of recovery, rehab, covid quarantine and forced retirement.  I also was forced to retire from my enjoyable part time job, maneuver safely in the masked quarantined world and keep up as a caregiver. So many changes! 

And now a year later, we are still adjusting to the mix of quarantine and retirement.  It’s rather liberating to not have a schedule per se. We get up and go to bed when we want. We do afternoon appointments. We have a small social bubble of family and friends come over for meals and games. We miss fellowship with our church family immensely and look forward to resuming our church attendance when the covid risks are fewer. So many quiet days! 

We are so thankful for the prayers, helping hands and encouragement in cards and calls. Our faith in our Lord Jesus Christ sustains us. Always trusting.

Spilled noodles happen

 Ever have days when you wonder if you are losing it?  Like when you are draining a pot of noodles and the colander goes askew and half the noodles spill into the kitchen sink. Or you can’t find stuff that you put in a safe place you wouldn’t forget but then do. Speaking of forgetting, I forgot to empty the filter on my Eureka lightweight vacuum cleaner and the full filter falls off the machine and dumps an embarrassing load of feathers, fur and dust in front of my three daughters. And how many times have I pushed the radio button to start my car instead of the ignition button?  Or when the family arrived for spaghetti and I’d forgotten to boil the noodles.  Senior moments.  So I’m losing a sense of having it all together which is indeed a loss.  And a pride issue since I’m being transparent.   

But last night a long time friend died of Covid. This is a loss beyond words for his dear family and friends. A loss that is a life journey of grieving.  Moments that hurt. Anniversaries of the first time since a loved one died. An empty chair at the table. A song. A season. A smell. A food. A memory.  Lots of memories. A forever longing for one more day. 

So I am reminded that my sense of having it all together is now very insignificant.  Spilled noodles happen . Senior moments go on. I am choosing to be content in whatever situation  I am in. And praying for those who are suffering a deep loss. 

A year, a month, a week, a day

A year ago my husband had a stroke. Our relationship changed. He became more dependent and I stepped up to take on more responsibilities. We transitioned into the new ways relatively well. I became his Uber driver, day planner, prompter on memory issues, handled all his meds and insulin and kept track of doctor appointments. Throughout the year I still sought the answer to the cause of his extreme fatigue.

A month ago the answer came. He needed open heart surgery to take care of several issues. It was a whirlwind month of preparations. The things you need to do before a serious operation, like taking care of legal papers, making decisions and spending extra time with family and friends. We celebrated his 73rd birthday the weekend before surgery date. It was also our last family gathering in our home of 38 years. The downsize move became a TO DO when we learned he needed open heart surgery. Yet while we spent our evening eating, laughing, praying and crying our family looked forward to new beginnings in a lovely home we’ve been preparing for some time.

A week ago my husband walked bravely into the hospital to submit to a very serious surgery. While I had perfect peace he would be fine, it is still hard to go through the journey. The surgery was successful. He has had complications of needing an external pace maker which impeded him getting out of bed all week. His breathing and dependency on oxygen has been a critical issue. Other critical issues occurred on the home front. Our new home had a water mishap that damaged two rooms of carpet and hallway hardwood. We still moved but put our Furnishings and belongings in the garage and sunroom. Our lives are temporarily split between two houses because being completely settled now is not possible.

A day ago my husband received a internal pacemaker. The procedure went well. He is able to start moving. His lungs need it.

Today he stood up like a warrior. He walked. He is fighting. I am proud of him.

I have found myself between my fear and my faith many times in the last year. I choose faith. I take one day at a time. God is in control especially when things seem so out of control. Like last week. Even when the days are long and the nights are short. To God be the glory, great things He has done.

Just give me Jesus.

Always trusting.

SACRIFICE

Sacrifice. This nine letter word is a loaded word to define a variety of countless acts of service.  The greatest sacrifice originated with GOD who sacrificed his only son for compensation for our sins, followed by Jesus who willingly gave his life for us. In our lifetime each of us has been called to sacrifice in some way, like our finances, our time, acts of service and small daily ways. I remember a story my Dad told me about an elderly couple. The husband frequently made toast for his wife and always gave her the heels of the bread. One day the wife angrily asked, “ Why do you always give me the heel of the loaf?”  The husband answered, “Because that is the best part!”  I have a similar story on my Dad. Whenever we got takeout chicken, Dad always got the legs because Mom said he liked the dark meat best.  Years later I found this to be untrue. Dad liked the white meat just as much as we did but went along with it for us. It was a quiet sacrifice.  I wonder how many acts of sacrifice go on around us unnoticed and unappreciated.  Keep our eyes, ears and heart open. Be thankful. Be appreciative.

The Christmas Dress

Seeing my granddaughter in her Christmas dress at the annual Candlelight Service brought instant tears to my eyes.  It was the Christmas dress her mommy wore 35 years ago.  It was the Christmas dress my Mom gave my daughter. My mom who loved Christmas more than anybody I have ever known.  Memories came tumbling forward in my mind upon seeing the reappearance of the Christmas dress. My granddaughter in the Christmas dress looking so much like her mommy did.  Sentimental moment.
While each day forward is a special blessing, sometimes I still long for the days of yesteryear. My family has grown up. My parents are gone.  I recently read that once the glue of the family passes away, the holidays aren’t ever the same anymore. This is why I feel a bit lost every Christmas Eve. I miss the magic of the Christmas Eve of my childhood when we opened gifts. My mom, THE GLUE of the family was all about Christmas. She planned all year long. She decorated in full out style.  She wrapped gifts exquisitely.  The lights on the tree sparkled. Mom waited in childish  expectation for each of us to open the gifts she thoughtfully chose.  Christmas Eve was always very special.
I still long for that special excitement. We’ve added attending the Candlelight Service as a family and that is very special.  But afterwards all the families go different directions with other plans and we are left to fill the evening on our own.  We’ve entertained small parties.  We’ve spent quiet evenings at home. This year we went to a movie and ate waffles at Waffle House with our best friends. I never do Waffle House but it was   a good night.
But I still grieve for the Christmas Eve of my memories. Grieving is a forever long journey down the lane of life. Turning another corner. Embracing the flood of memories both sweet and sad. Seeing new things while remembering old things. Even through tears. Sad smiles. Replacing last looks with new looks. I usually think I am ready to keep moving forward. But I realize seldom I am ready. Like when I saw the red Christmas dress on my granddaughter.  Tears easily sprung to my eyes and memories flowed freely. And tears are okay. Life changes. Memories are forever. 

COLOR BLIND

Walking into a Krystal Restaurant for breakfast with my husband seemed like an uneventful happening until we sat down to enjoy our eggs, grits, bacon and toast.  I noticed a sense of community in the air.  Friendly greetings between the staff and the customers; " How are you this morning?"  "Good Morning, you're a bit late today."  Looking around, I saw several senior citizens were doing solo meals.  Alone but in a sense, together.

An elderly gentleman behind me was on his way out.  Another man greeted him as he passed by and inquired how he was doing.  "I'm doing worse and worse each day." he replied.  A list of complaints backed up his proclamation.  These two gentlemen had caught not only my eye but now my ears as well.  As I continued to listen to the discouragement of the elder gentleman, I was impressed with the encouragement and empathy from the other gentleman.  "You need companionship."  "Does your family know how you feel?"  "I feel lonely like that sometimes.  You should come to the Senior Center where I go.  It is for people like us."  "The good Lord tells us when our days here are done.  I still want to be here as long as I can."  It was a time of precious sharing between the two.  When they were wrapping it up, I stood up and approached them.  I confessed I'd overheard their conversation and how they'd been a blessing to me with their sharing and caring.  I gave a word of testimony and "God's timing is not our timing.  As long as we have breath, we are here for a purpose."  I commended the encourager for wise advice and encouraged the discouraged.  I walked away from these two gentlemen and an ordinary breakfast with a sense of community too. 

 Yet, there is another inspiring aspect to this encounter.  The discouraged gentleman was white and his encourager was a black gentleman.  Obvious diversity in color but even more obvious was the unity of understanding and respect in their hearts.  Color blind.  We need more color blindness in our lives. 

So grateful how the Lord blesses us in the most unexpected way.

Thoughts about cancer from someone else