K and I have been talking more and more about adding to the Bockoven household. The plan has always been to wait until C's 5th birthday so that about the time he starts Kindergarten (aka doesn't require daycare anymore) there would be another Bockoven. C's 5th birthday has come and gone, so you know what that means.....
I'm gonna get skinny and healthy first.
Over the last couple of months, I've naturally been reflecting on my pregnancy, L&D and C's infancy. For the most part, it was awful. I love my son, but that 2 year time period was just plain rotten. Much of it could not have been changed, but there are parts I could have improved. By and large, my weight, physical fitness and general health could have meant a very different experience for all involved.
I've often wanted to hire a life coach/personal trainer/nutritionist/chef. However, K is a pastor and I'm a bookkeeper...you do the math. So, I chose the next best thing....my baby brother.
When Uncle P came to Champaign for I's graduation, he got me to do an entire pushup...all the way down and all the way up. That was a miracle for me. The next week I called him and told him he should go to school to be a personal trainer. I know no other person with such passion for health and fitness and love for human kind. He genuinely wants people to be healthy because it's in their best interest. He encourages with the love he personifies and makes me want to be able to do 100 pushups.
After that conversation he designed a little workout for me, using my own body weight (which should make me dang strong....geesh!). It takes 15 minutes and I can do it while watching TV. Perfection. I did it once and was sore for 2 days. Then I had to pack my house up and move to Iowa...
On Monday I decided that our life was too chaotic right now for me to be pregnant, and I'm not healthy....not even a little bit. I talked to Patrick and told him I wanted to spend the next 6 months getting healthy (he's in charge of that) and getting our new life in Iowa de-chaos-ified (I'm in charge of that) so that I can feel great about using my body to grow a baby and feel great about bringing the next Bockoven into this world.
The plan is this:
Body Weight exercises MWF, a killer swift 30 minute walk T,R mornings (we aren't talking Andante folks!!!)
I hope, desperately, with all my heart and soul that in 2 weeks I can report that my clothes are fitting better and I've been sleeping like a baby. My modus operandi is quite the opposite, so here's hopin'!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Well, boo.
When I started this blog, I thought I would fill it with witty and philosophical observations of the world and my life. I thought I would tell well-constructed stories that showcase my intelligence and insightfulness. For some reason I didn't want this to be a mom-blog. For some reason I didn't want it to be "what's going on in my life." I didn't want it to be "Dear Diary" for the world to see.
After a few entries I found myself uninspired. I have a million ideas to explain (some of them I shared in a recent-ish post). Evidently explanation wasn't enough to bring the inspiration roaring back.
I find that I have millions of questions of the world, of the universe and everyday I feel like I have less and less answers, and certainly nothing witty to say about it all. Also, last time I asked a question out loud in this medium, I got told to settle down and stop asking such questions. I've always been encouraged to be curious and inquisitive, but it certainly has led to it's fair share of "Paralysis by Analysis." So that's no fun for anyone to read and I don't want to write that which isn't any fun.
I also have been scared to share my biggest question, for fear of being called a fraud.
I'm over it.
Where is God? I'm not kidding, I'm so unsure of God's whereabouts I would be lying if I said I was certain of God's existence. The biggest trouble in all of this: this is not a crisis of faith, this is not a passing feeling. This is simply the first time I've admitted it. Hell, I'm a pastor's wife, I've earned a Master's degree from Seminary, I've worked as a youth worker in several churches, I've been a church-camp counselor, I've helped with more VBS's than I can count, I was on the Synod LYO board, I was the girl who brought her friends to church, I asked to be baptised at age 8 because I felt strongly about the sacrament. How does all of that add up to "Where is God?" Have I been faking it all these years? Holy Shit! I hope not.
I'm not sure what I've been believing in all these years. When I talk people through "Am I a Christian?" I start with the Apostle's Creed. Perhaps that is where I shall begin.
I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth.
I can't understand how anyone who has eyes and a brain can NOT believe in a creator. Biology, Chemistry and Physics explains how things in our world work, but not why. I have a long list of phenomenon that "prove" to me a creator's hand in our universe.
Where I loose the connection is God's benevolence and relational nature. Now that I read the line, I'm not sure why I've always thought benevolence is implied, but I've been taught that it is, I've taught that it is. We do not believe that God is a puppeteer and we do not believe God is a clock-maker who simply made the world, wound it up and pushed "Go!". Those ideas, to me, imply benevolence.
I have never felt a "relationship" with God. I see good things in the world and believe they are God's work, but I do not feel his presence in my own life. I cannot name one time when I have felt God guiding me or speaking to me (no stories of veering off the route home to buy some milk here). At this point I'd say I have more faith in coincidences and chance than God's guiding hand. I've never had a strong prayer life and I'm pretty sure I don't involve God in any decisions I make on a day to day basis. Pray for signs, forget it. I've tried to build a prayer practice with Lectio Divina by myself, devotions, journaling, name it, I've probably tried it...I'm sure that I "give up" each time because I feel/hear nothing...I feel like I'm just talking to my self. The theologian in me tells myself that I'm approaching it too selfishly, that I'm looking for it to be God-Down rather than me giving my self, my thoughts, worries, etc to God. Well, after 15 years, the one sided conversation doesn't do the trick anymore (I guess not that it ever has).
In my Christian life, my relationships have been with people. I have been held up in crisis by people. I have seen 1 set of footprints in the sand of another person. Sure, you say, God has acted through those people to give you a tangible sense of Himself. That's all fine and good, but people are still people and can't guide me the way God is supposed to. People are too weak for that, as well they should be. People give me conflicting answers/advice, as well they should. I want both...I want people and I want God....why is that so much to ask. Why are there people (even Lutherans) who walk around spouting "God's told me..."?? Are they lying, are they delusional, are they as lonely for God as I am but they are convincing themselves of God's voice?
I have put some big things out there for God's input and have made some big decisions on his (I now perceive to be lack of) guidance. If God demands us to cling to him, why the hell doesn't he give me anything when I'm hanging by my fingernails, why don't I ever feel at peace, why am I forced to feel like I just have to own up to my choices because I never have one damn clue what God thinks I should do?
Here I stand, I can do no other.
After a few entries I found myself uninspired. I have a million ideas to explain (some of them I shared in a recent-ish post). Evidently explanation wasn't enough to bring the inspiration roaring back.
I find that I have millions of questions of the world, of the universe and everyday I feel like I have less and less answers, and certainly nothing witty to say about it all. Also, last time I asked a question out loud in this medium, I got told to settle down and stop asking such questions. I've always been encouraged to be curious and inquisitive, but it certainly has led to it's fair share of "Paralysis by Analysis." So that's no fun for anyone to read and I don't want to write that which isn't any fun.
I also have been scared to share my biggest question, for fear of being called a fraud.
I'm over it.
Where is God? I'm not kidding, I'm so unsure of God's whereabouts I would be lying if I said I was certain of God's existence. The biggest trouble in all of this: this is not a crisis of faith, this is not a passing feeling. This is simply the first time I've admitted it. Hell, I'm a pastor's wife, I've earned a Master's degree from Seminary, I've worked as a youth worker in several churches, I've been a church-camp counselor, I've helped with more VBS's than I can count, I was on the Synod LYO board, I was the girl who brought her friends to church, I asked to be baptised at age 8 because I felt strongly about the sacrament. How does all of that add up to "Where is God?" Have I been faking it all these years? Holy Shit! I hope not.
I'm not sure what I've been believing in all these years. When I talk people through "Am I a Christian?" I start with the Apostle's Creed. Perhaps that is where I shall begin.
I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth.
I can't understand how anyone who has eyes and a brain can NOT believe in a creator. Biology, Chemistry and Physics explains how things in our world work, but not why. I have a long list of phenomenon that "prove" to me a creator's hand in our universe.
Where I loose the connection is God's benevolence and relational nature. Now that I read the line, I'm not sure why I've always thought benevolence is implied, but I've been taught that it is, I've taught that it is. We do not believe that God is a puppeteer and we do not believe God is a clock-maker who simply made the world, wound it up and pushed "Go!". Those ideas, to me, imply benevolence.
I have never felt a "relationship" with God. I see good things in the world and believe they are God's work, but I do not feel his presence in my own life. I cannot name one time when I have felt God guiding me or speaking to me (no stories of veering off the route home to buy some milk here). At this point I'd say I have more faith in coincidences and chance than God's guiding hand. I've never had a strong prayer life and I'm pretty sure I don't involve God in any decisions I make on a day to day basis. Pray for signs, forget it. I've tried to build a prayer practice with Lectio Divina by myself, devotions, journaling, name it, I've probably tried it...I'm sure that I "give up" each time because I feel/hear nothing...I feel like I'm just talking to my self. The theologian in me tells myself that I'm approaching it too selfishly, that I'm looking for it to be God-Down rather than me giving my self, my thoughts, worries, etc to God. Well, after 15 years, the one sided conversation doesn't do the trick anymore (I guess not that it ever has).
In my Christian life, my relationships have been with people. I have been held up in crisis by people. I have seen 1 set of footprints in the sand of another person. Sure, you say, God has acted through those people to give you a tangible sense of Himself. That's all fine and good, but people are still people and can't guide me the way God is supposed to. People are too weak for that, as well they should be. People give me conflicting answers/advice, as well they should. I want both...I want people and I want God....why is that so much to ask. Why are there people (even Lutherans) who walk around spouting "God's told me..."?? Are they lying, are they delusional, are they as lonely for God as I am but they are convincing themselves of God's voice?
I have put some big things out there for God's input and have made some big decisions on his (I now perceive to be lack of) guidance. If God demands us to cling to him, why the hell doesn't he give me anything when I'm hanging by my fingernails, why don't I ever feel at peace, why am I forced to feel like I just have to own up to my choices because I never have one damn clue what God thinks I should do?
Here I stand, I can do no other.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Body Language
My parents taught me to listen to my body, and they taught me how to listen to my body. Whenever i had a tummy ache, my complaint was followed by no less than 10 questions about the nature of the ache. "Are you upset about something, where does it hurt, are you hungry, did you eat too fast, are you going to throw up, does it hurt like this or does it hurt like that?" Since it has always been that way, I never was annoyed by the questions. Instead I learned to ask myself the same kinds of questions when I was not feeling right.
When my Ulcerative Colitis flared for the first time, I gave it a few days in case it was a flu-bug, but it became clear to me soon that it wasn't simply a bug. I insisted that the Drs. deal with me rather than subject me to another test and "see what happens." Unfortunately, I had no idea what was going on and no amount of self-questioning or even talking with my parents helped me figure it out. That came in the years following when I had kidney stone attacks and appendicitis. It's amazing how many things can go wrong all in the same region of your body! But, having had colitis and paying such close attention to the symptoms so I could head off a flare made it so that I knew the other things were NOT colitis. I believe I got better care because I can explain my pain and discomfort with alarming clarity.
So, in the midst of this move, I am surprised at what is going on in my body. In the 2 other times we have moved since grad-school, we have never had stability greeting us at our destination. When we moved to the UP and also to Champaign, I didn't have a job waiting for me. In fact, my employment has been unclear and a source of great stress a majority of the last 5, almost 6 years. When we moved to MI, I didn't like the house we had to live in and never really did like it. When we moved to IL, we rented an apartment sight-unseen and wound up moving out of it within 6 months. When we moved to MI, I was newly pregnant with Clayton and soon was experiencing all-day-sickness. When we moved to IL, we didn't have a good daycare situation lined up for Clayton.
All of that uncertainty in the past, and this move seems to be the most stressful for me, and I simply do not understand. We are both very excited about Kurt's new church and the possibility of being there for many years. We have a parsonage and I love it....it's very nearly my dream house. Clayton started preschool this week and it all seems to be going very well. I have a job waiting for me at a fantastic CPA firm that I am very excited about. We are going to be quite a bit closer to many of our good friends we have missed so much. (Best of all) we are only 65 miles from the great Luther College, so I can go to Juletide and any other arts activity (within reason, of course). I'm even planning to get Luther plates for my car!
So, why do I feel exhausted and yet not at all sleepy? Why do I feel like I need some serious nourishment but am not hungry at all? Why do I feel over all crummy?
I have no flippin' idea!
When my Ulcerative Colitis flared for the first time, I gave it a few days in case it was a flu-bug, but it became clear to me soon that it wasn't simply a bug. I insisted that the Drs. deal with me rather than subject me to another test and "see what happens." Unfortunately, I had no idea what was going on and no amount of self-questioning or even talking with my parents helped me figure it out. That came in the years following when I had kidney stone attacks and appendicitis. It's amazing how many things can go wrong all in the same region of your body! But, having had colitis and paying such close attention to the symptoms so I could head off a flare made it so that I knew the other things were NOT colitis. I believe I got better care because I can explain my pain and discomfort with alarming clarity.
So, in the midst of this move, I am surprised at what is going on in my body. In the 2 other times we have moved since grad-school, we have never had stability greeting us at our destination. When we moved to the UP and also to Champaign, I didn't have a job waiting for me. In fact, my employment has been unclear and a source of great stress a majority of the last 5, almost 6 years. When we moved to MI, I didn't like the house we had to live in and never really did like it. When we moved to IL, we rented an apartment sight-unseen and wound up moving out of it within 6 months. When we moved to MI, I was newly pregnant with Clayton and soon was experiencing all-day-sickness. When we moved to IL, we didn't have a good daycare situation lined up for Clayton.
All of that uncertainty in the past, and this move seems to be the most stressful for me, and I simply do not understand. We are both very excited about Kurt's new church and the possibility of being there for many years. We have a parsonage and I love it....it's very nearly my dream house. Clayton started preschool this week and it all seems to be going very well. I have a job waiting for me at a fantastic CPA firm that I am very excited about. We are going to be quite a bit closer to many of our good friends we have missed so much. (Best of all) we are only 65 miles from the great Luther College, so I can go to Juletide and any other arts activity (within reason, of course). I'm even planning to get Luther plates for my car!
So, why do I feel exhausted and yet not at all sleepy? Why do I feel like I need some serious nourishment but am not hungry at all? Why do I feel over all crummy?
I have no flippin' idea!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Back at the Ranch, 17 Months Later...
My apologies to those of you who spent months checking back to see "what's up." I never thought my hiatus would be so long.
Writing is something that seems to be helpful to me, but not something I can't live without, so it gets pushed to the side. The problem with that is two-fold: I don't have an outlet for the craziness/silliness/self-proclaimed-coolness in my head and those of you who are interested in my life don't get to hear about it.
I have to admit, I've been pretty self-absorbed these months. I've chosen to not write because I've been sick of my own thoughts or I didn't want to air personal things in a public manner, as well as other things.
So, here we are. I feel like I'm in a place less full of darkness and I'm ready to write.
Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for reading my words, trite as they might be.
Writing is something that seems to be helpful to me, but not something I can't live without, so it gets pushed to the side. The problem with that is two-fold: I don't have an outlet for the craziness/silliness/self-proclaimed-coolness in my head and those of you who are interested in my life don't get to hear about it.
I have to admit, I've been pretty self-absorbed these months. I've chosen to not write because I've been sick of my own thoughts or I didn't want to air personal things in a public manner, as well as other things.
So, here we are. I feel like I'm in a place less full of darkness and I'm ready to write.
Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for reading my words, trite as they might be.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
The already and the not yet?
I was "home" (at my mom's house) over the weekend and several times in 36 hours, one or both of us said, "Holy crap! It's November!" or something like that.
Josh died in August, more than 2 months ago! My mom mentioned on her care page this week that time has sort of stood still since Josh's departure. While my journey these past months is no match to hers, I seem to have fallen into a similar experience and I cannot begin to understand it, let alone explain it.
So, perhaps a simple update on my world would be appropriate.
In the 16 days following Josh's diagnosis - August 8th - I traveled home twice for a total of 6 days there with my mom and siblings. I stayed 2 days more after his death. I was then back to Champaign 2 days and then back to Beloit for 5 days more. It was a whirlwind month to be sure, but it was perfectly what it needed to be.
My brother made his way back to Iraq in the early part of September only to find out he had taken and unauthorized extension of his leave. So, he had extended duty for 14 days (which meant he worked 6-10 pm on weekdays and 8-4 on weekends). He slept little and was none too happy with himself or the Army for creating such a situation. All is well though. He could have had his pay docked or lost rank, either of which would have been "worse" than extended duty. With the help of his CO, he has found his way to some professional counselors, Air Force officers, to help him with his emotional struggles. Ironically, his troubles have little to do with his experiences in the Army (which is what they're there for....to assist in dealing with being in a war), but the US Military is going to help him out and we all are more than thankful that our Patty Danny is finally making some progress with these things.
Work continues to be great. Not perfect, but really wonderful. The Firm Administrator, my "boss" is really quite a guy. Having nothing to do with his job, he is smart, passionate, creative, funny and generally great to be around. The best part is that he brings all of those things into his job, and therefore into my job. He recognizes and values highly the gifts of the people around him and works hard to make their jobs about those gifts. He's considerate enough to let me know when I'm doing something that might make my life a little difficult LONG before it ever could. I'm left plenty of opportunity to correct my foibles and they never then turn into something more that an "oops." He also is full of praise when things are done well. Not many folks are afforded the opportunity to work for such a person. Thankful isn't a big enough word...whatever the right one is: that's what I am.
The hubby and I have found a house we really love and we're in full swing of trying to get financed while trying to not get screwed...its a fun game when you're a complete idiot in the field which you are trying to excel.
Clayton is growing like a friggin' weed and I can't even believe it. Today on the way home there was some Christmas commercial on the radio with jingle-bells on the background. In the middle of a sentence (yes, he has real, honest to God complete sentences!) he said, "Listen mama! Do you hear those bells?" "Yes Clayton, I hear them." "They are such beautiful bells mama!" While we were home, my mom commented on how his conversations are real now. You can ask a question and he will answer and he will ask a question and you answer and he processes the answer and the conversation flows beautifully from one moment of interest to the next.
This is for another entry but: Whoever came up with the phrase "terrible two's" didn't have a three year old yet!!! It's like someone flipped the "defiant" switch in my child on his 3rd birthday. I sure am glad a year is only a year long...
So, it's fall and I still feel like it must be August or maybe September. I guess I was pretty smart when I named my blog. :)
Josh died in August, more than 2 months ago! My mom mentioned on her care page this week that time has sort of stood still since Josh's departure. While my journey these past months is no match to hers, I seem to have fallen into a similar experience and I cannot begin to understand it, let alone explain it.
So, perhaps a simple update on my world would be appropriate.
In the 16 days following Josh's diagnosis - August 8th - I traveled home twice for a total of 6 days there with my mom and siblings. I stayed 2 days more after his death. I was then back to Champaign 2 days and then back to Beloit for 5 days more. It was a whirlwind month to be sure, but it was perfectly what it needed to be.
My brother made his way back to Iraq in the early part of September only to find out he had taken and unauthorized extension of his leave. So, he had extended duty for 14 days (which meant he worked 6-10 pm on weekdays and 8-4 on weekends). He slept little and was none too happy with himself or the Army for creating such a situation. All is well though. He could have had his pay docked or lost rank, either of which would have been "worse" than extended duty. With the help of his CO, he has found his way to some professional counselors, Air Force officers, to help him with his emotional struggles. Ironically, his troubles have little to do with his experiences in the Army (which is what they're there for....to assist in dealing with being in a war), but the US Military is going to help him out and we all are more than thankful that our Patty Danny is finally making some progress with these things.
Work continues to be great. Not perfect, but really wonderful. The Firm Administrator, my "boss" is really quite a guy. Having nothing to do with his job, he is smart, passionate, creative, funny and generally great to be around. The best part is that he brings all of those things into his job, and therefore into my job. He recognizes and values highly the gifts of the people around him and works hard to make their jobs about those gifts. He's considerate enough to let me know when I'm doing something that might make my life a little difficult LONG before it ever could. I'm left plenty of opportunity to correct my foibles and they never then turn into something more that an "oops." He also is full of praise when things are done well. Not many folks are afforded the opportunity to work for such a person. Thankful isn't a big enough word...whatever the right one is: that's what I am.
The hubby and I have found a house we really love and we're in full swing of trying to get financed while trying to not get screwed...its a fun game when you're a complete idiot in the field which you are trying to excel.
Clayton is growing like a friggin' weed and I can't even believe it. Today on the way home there was some Christmas commercial on the radio with jingle-bells on the background. In the middle of a sentence (yes, he has real, honest to God complete sentences!) he said, "Listen mama! Do you hear those bells?" "Yes Clayton, I hear them." "They are such beautiful bells mama!" While we were home, my mom commented on how his conversations are real now. You can ask a question and he will answer and he will ask a question and you answer and he processes the answer and the conversation flows beautifully from one moment of interest to the next.
This is for another entry but: Whoever came up with the phrase "terrible two's" didn't have a three year old yet!!! It's like someone flipped the "defiant" switch in my child on his 3rd birthday. I sure am glad a year is only a year long...
So, it's fall and I still feel like it must be August or maybe September. I guess I was pretty smart when I named my blog. :)
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The lengths God won't go to.
My brother (Patrick, 20), sister (Ivy, 16) and I have often boasted about how cool our family is and how glad we are that they are ours.
Ivy has encountered many 16 year olds, as many of us have, that are awfully selfish and don't deal well with the real stuff that life throws at us once in a while. Often when I am visiting home, she will share with me a tale of "immature" teens who are struggling with romantic relationships, trouble with their parents, bad grades, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. She always is so amazed by how “stupid” most of her peers are. She has also encountered teens (and I think this observation goes well across generational lines) who don’t deal with death and dying very well. She’s REALLY surprised by this one. Hmm, she amazes me.
It wasn’t until these last few weeks that we’ve realized something. Somehow, God has chosen to prepare us for the pain and chaos that is helping a parent die. My mom began her nursing career when I was 3 and completed her PhD on March 18, 2007. It’s been quite a road for her (and for us) and we are so proud of our mommy. When I was in elementary school, she began to build her expertise in end of life care and is now among the top experts in the country, if not in the world.
In our house, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll were part of the everyday conversation. We didn’t shy away from uncomfortable things and I believe we are better for it. As mom’s experience with terminal illnesses, bereavement, pain management, palliative care and other things grew, she began appropriately sharing things with her children. I vividly remember standing in our kitchen and having her share wonderful and amazing stories of God’s grace, the amazing human body, the will of souls and non-verbal communication between soul-mates from her many hours spent with families and patients who were transitioning from this world to the next. It was in those years I began to see death as an amazing force rather than the scary end. The end of someone’s life can be filled with peace and love if pain and symptoms are managed properly and if primary care givers are empowered to love their loved ones until the very last breath.
For me, this is the reason our family is the coolest on earth. This weekend while I was home with my mom, step-dad and two siblings, there was no panic and very little anxiety (Atavan is a wonder for patients and care-givers alikeJ). We spent as much time as we could talking with Josh, holding hands, kissing, hugging, laying next to, breathing, joking and every good thing. If you only have 2 weeks to spend with the one whom your soul loves, this is the way to do it and my mom is an example like no other.
There is no doubt there will be many tears in the months ahead and we certainly aren’t with out questions, anger and frustration. But if I could find a way to give the gift of peace and love during the death of a loved one, I would give it to everyone…since everyone goes through it at some point.
I don’t know why God chose our family for this gift, or if he gave us other gifts to make it so we could receive this gift from our mother. I know that I am grateful for whatever it is. I know I hope He will give you all similar gifts in your life; I believe that He will.
Ivy has encountered many 16 year olds, as many of us have, that are awfully selfish and don't deal well with the real stuff that life throws at us once in a while. Often when I am visiting home, she will share with me a tale of "immature" teens who are struggling with romantic relationships, trouble with their parents, bad grades, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. She always is so amazed by how “stupid” most of her peers are. She has also encountered teens (and I think this observation goes well across generational lines) who don’t deal with death and dying very well. She’s REALLY surprised by this one. Hmm, she amazes me.
It wasn’t until these last few weeks that we’ve realized something. Somehow, God has chosen to prepare us for the pain and chaos that is helping a parent die. My mom began her nursing career when I was 3 and completed her PhD on March 18, 2007. It’s been quite a road for her (and for us) and we are so proud of our mommy. When I was in elementary school, she began to build her expertise in end of life care and is now among the top experts in the country, if not in the world.
In our house, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll were part of the everyday conversation. We didn’t shy away from uncomfortable things and I believe we are better for it. As mom’s experience with terminal illnesses, bereavement, pain management, palliative care and other things grew, she began appropriately sharing things with her children. I vividly remember standing in our kitchen and having her share wonderful and amazing stories of God’s grace, the amazing human body, the will of souls and non-verbal communication between soul-mates from her many hours spent with families and patients who were transitioning from this world to the next. It was in those years I began to see death as an amazing force rather than the scary end. The end of someone’s life can be filled with peace and love if pain and symptoms are managed properly and if primary care givers are empowered to love their loved ones until the very last breath.
For me, this is the reason our family is the coolest on earth. This weekend while I was home with my mom, step-dad and two siblings, there was no panic and very little anxiety (Atavan is a wonder for patients and care-givers alikeJ). We spent as much time as we could talking with Josh, holding hands, kissing, hugging, laying next to, breathing, joking and every good thing. If you only have 2 weeks to spend with the one whom your soul loves, this is the way to do it and my mom is an example like no other.
There is no doubt there will be many tears in the months ahead and we certainly aren’t with out questions, anger and frustration. But if I could find a way to give the gift of peace and love during the death of a loved one, I would give it to everyone…since everyone goes through it at some point.
I don’t know why God chose our family for this gift, or if he gave us other gifts to make it so we could receive this gift from our mother. I know that I am grateful for whatever it is. I know I hope He will give you all similar gifts in your life; I believe that He will.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
It's been a little bit of a month...
Some of you know and some of you don't...
Two very significant things have happened in my life in the last two weeks (don't worry, I still have a job). I plan to blog lots about them in pieces as I can manage, but I wanted to get everyone in the loop first.
On Tuesday, August 7 (Ivy's 16th birthday) I was in a head-on auto accident in my cute little blue Vue. I am fine, but my car did not survive. My dad likes to say it was a great object lesson for my baby sister on the day she received her license and a car. There are pictures and a "lecture" to the teenagers in my life on my facebook, if you're interested.
On Wednesday, August 8, my step-dad Josh was diagnosed with Pancreatic, lymphatic carcinoma cancer. I have been asked on more than one occasion, "What stage?" My smart a#$ dad would say "stage 12," but the serious answer is that its far past the point of a staging label. Upon scanning his abdomen, his pancreas was full of tumors, with innumerable legions in his liver (it is worth noting that this cancer has nothing to do with and isn't caused by his alcoholism). At this point, on the 21st, we are expecting him to live only days. My mom has set up a phenomenal blog with a daily entry on Josh's progression toward heaven. If you are interested:
http://www.carepages.com/ServeCarePage?cpn=joshandginger&seed=220218&ClusterNodeID=jb03&tlcx1=default&tlcx2=2357939
If you can't get in that way, let me know and I'll get you hooked up. I spent the last 4 days putting in 16 hour days of helping my mom manage the millions of meds it takes to keep someone so sick comfortable. It certainly has been a labor of love and as the oldest child, I felt a huge pull to fulfill a responsibility. However tired I am and will continue to be, I wouldn't imagine being anywhere else or doing anything else. My mother is an amazing woman who has processed these last two weeks with grace and strength the likes I have never seen before.
As I said, I plan to blog on these things in pieces as I can manage. It has been a time full of emotions and such, so there is lots to process. More later to be sure.
All my love to you all. I don't usually solicit prayers, but please pray for my family and everyone that loves Josh, this is such a huge loss for the world.
Until next time....
Two very significant things have happened in my life in the last two weeks (don't worry, I still have a job). I plan to blog lots about them in pieces as I can manage, but I wanted to get everyone in the loop first.
On Tuesday, August 7 (Ivy's 16th birthday) I was in a head-on auto accident in my cute little blue Vue. I am fine, but my car did not survive. My dad likes to say it was a great object lesson for my baby sister on the day she received her license and a car. There are pictures and a "lecture" to the teenagers in my life on my facebook, if you're interested.
On Wednesday, August 8, my step-dad Josh was diagnosed with Pancreatic, lymphatic carcinoma cancer. I have been asked on more than one occasion, "What stage?" My smart a#$ dad would say "stage 12," but the serious answer is that its far past the point of a staging label. Upon scanning his abdomen, his pancreas was full of tumors, with innumerable legions in his liver (it is worth noting that this cancer has nothing to do with and isn't caused by his alcoholism). At this point, on the 21st, we are expecting him to live only days. My mom has set up a phenomenal blog with a daily entry on Josh's progression toward heaven. If you are interested:
http://www.carepages.com/ServeCarePage?cpn=joshandginger&seed=220218&ClusterNodeID=jb03&tlcx1=default&tlcx2=2357939
If you can't get in that way, let me know and I'll get you hooked up. I spent the last 4 days putting in 16 hour days of helping my mom manage the millions of meds it takes to keep someone so sick comfortable. It certainly has been a labor of love and as the oldest child, I felt a huge pull to fulfill a responsibility. However tired I am and will continue to be, I wouldn't imagine being anywhere else or doing anything else. My mother is an amazing woman who has processed these last two weeks with grace and strength the likes I have never seen before.
As I said, I plan to blog on these things in pieces as I can manage. It has been a time full of emotions and such, so there is lots to process. More later to be sure.
All my love to you all. I don't usually solicit prayers, but please pray for my family and everyone that loves Josh, this is such a huge loss for the world.
Until next time....
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