Mothers and Life

 

Mother's Day....mixed emotions....that I really don't know the words for, or even know for sure if I want to put into words. .....cause , you know, putting something into words makes it more real somehow...and I realize that I have been trying to not make it real.

It is a funny thing to be a grownup and to know that life has cycles and change and inevitables and that being "grownup" you know that is ...just life....deal with it.

No amount of wallowing in the confusion and funny feelings and allowing the tears and memories etc, etc, will change any of it.

So my personality is -deal with it.

But sometimes I feel like there are realities that I tiptoe softly over like walking on eggshells.

Like aging, death, empty nesting, change,

This is the first Mother's Day of my life without a Mother. This is also the first Mother's day ,of my life as a Mother, without almost half of my children at home for the day to celebrate.

It feels ...kinda.....strange......I really have no words ...and I realize that searching for the words only brings me far too close to that place where I can no longer tiptoe over the feelings .

And somehow I feel like if I get to that place it would take me too long to make my way back.

I kinda feel like I'm hanging suspended over a chasm of time on a thin cable that is flinging me forward to the change on the other side and there is nothing I can do about it

As a grownup with my own full life it doesn't feel like it should feel so much like a house without a foundation to face a Mother's day without my Mom. But....it does......

I'm not an overly sentimental person. I don't get into mushy displays of family affection. I never really gave the whole "Mother " factor that much thought . It was just life. It was a given. Mothers day rolled around and as a kid I always picked out or made some little gift for Mom. As an adult moved away from home, I always called or visited. That was really all it was. I loved Mom. I appreciated her. But...she was just ...there....I really never thought about it, that in the very basic-ness of life she was a foundation.

I want to hold on to my kids. I want to be surrounded by them ....to freeze this time.....somehow it seems like it would fill the surreal, vague, empty space that was ...Mom.

But like I said putting it into words brings tears to my eyes and......today..this moment....this celebration...I choose to focus on what IS, not what Was...That is LIFE...and that really is the only way...the best way...to get through it, until ....

.....one day we part no more...

This Moment of Time

Sleep refuses to come. The thousand thoughts of the last several days toss restlessly through my mind...

No one ever expects to deal with death like this. My husband's dad is dying 2500 miles away. My mom is dying 400 miles away. We've known it was coming but who knew it would come at the same time. My husband returned home late one night from visiting his Dad and we left the next morning to say good-by to my mom.

You think you prepare for death but you can't; not really.

I have wanted for days to write out my thoughts but it is always too jumbled. It feels far too jumbled now but I must . That's just the way I am.

I know the death of a parent is not the same sharp wrenching pain of the loss of a spouse or a child . It is different but it is still somehow a very strange surreal un-moored feeling. The one who gave me birth lies somewhere suspended between time and eternity.

It seems that sudden death would be ever so much easier than this...this waiting...waiting....watching..... hovering...waiting...

It seems we live in a funny little vaccuum of space where nothing is as it seemed before and where everything revolves around a phone call.

Modern medicine has added in it's own complications to whole big picture. More questions, more decisions, ethical wranglings, comfort vs prolonging the inevitable , sustaining life vs delaying death, too many decisions, too many voices, too many opinions...too much to think about .....

Life seems so fragile. It seems so easy to think ,"What is the point?" But then I remember that because of choices my father-in-law made his children will teach their children about God. I know that because of choices my mom made, her approx 100 descendants now, will teach the next generation about God . Only eternity will tell the impact their lives will have. Life is a big responsibility.

Little bits of songs , pictures, happenings of today , of yesterdays, turn round and round my head. "...I know that my Redeemer liveth..., ...Jesus hath risen and man shall die..., and I no more as now shall stand..." Scenes of home, my old upstairs bedroom, Mom's voice, the long lane, the creak of the stairs,long evenings canning and reading with mom and my sisters.

I hear my voice join my siblings in "How Beautiful Heaven must Be", Come Home It's Supper Time", Someday the Silver Cord Will Break, and "Safe In the Arms Of Jesus" . I cry inside as I hear Pop's unforgettable bass join in on "Fear not , O Child, I Will Take Care Of Thee".

How do you watch your Pop tell his wife goodbye every day, lots of times through the day , never knowing when it will really be the final goodbye?

Every turning leaf, every wispy cloud, every crisp Autumn breeze, somehow seems more beautiful than before. Every kiss from my husband, every word from my child , somehow seems to hang suspended in time for a fraction of a second longer than normal.

But all of it somehow seems surreal as you know you stand facing something so much bigger than you; some plan far bigger than time or space.

One thought comes incessantly, I do not know how one lives if he says there is no God.

If I did not believe there was Someone who understood this all, I think I would scream and rage at this huge cosmic plan. If there is not Someone who will one day wipe away the tears and tell the reason why, I would shake my fist at a universe that throws together atoms into human pawns and sits back to let us live , die and decay for no purpose whatsoever.

I know some say the very existence of these seemingly endless ,unanswered questions makes them say there is no god , or rage against him if there is.

But I know. I know in part and sometime I shall know fully. I know man was created for life and fellowship with his Creator and that was ruined for time when man chose evil over good. I know that eternity will tell the story . I know that then we'll know how often a loving Father had to step back and let this whole thing work out to the final victory of good over evil, life over death. I'll understand why He chooses not intervene in the natural course of earthly death.

I don't know how one watches a body fight to live and not realize we were created for life, not death.

I stand in hope that one day I shall see the final victory. "O death where is thy sting? O grave where is thy victory?"

I shall one day stand with the One of Eternity and all my questions will be answered

The "Home-making" Father

Women are known as the homemakers and I think rightly so, but what about all the "home making" that the dad's do? I thought of that as I was thinking of the normal "mom post' and Father's day.  Home would not be home, Mom would not have a home to make a home ,truly a home, without Dad. I know , of course, there are instances when one spouse has to carry on alone but home in God's plan is Mom and Dad.
I was thinking of the two father's in my life.
 My Pop has always been ...well...just "Pop"! He was never a Dad , he was never a Father. He disliked both of those terms and for some reason neither really suits him. He was and is just "Pop"! For those that know him that explains him!
In fact growing up his own children were not the only ones that called him "Pop". Most of the other young people in the church did , also. I thought perhaps it was because we were a small church and everyone knew each other so well. But as we grew older and had friends visit from out of state and meet him for the first time, soon they all called him Pop too! When several years ago he moved from that church to a new area, everyone again, very quickly just called him ..."Pop"!
He is a one-of-a-kind person! If you ever meet him you'll never forget him.
He worked hard for his family. He worked in the woods most of my growing up years. It was hard , tiring work with hardly ever enough money to stretch far enough, but we made it!
I remember surprises in his lunch pail brought home to show us kids. I remember long winter nights of "Authors", "Aggravation", Probe"and building "Lincoln Log" houses. And stories,...always stories.
He believed in firm discipline and hard work. Many were the times as a child I thought he overdid both! But I'm thankful for the things he taught me.
Today it is just him and Mom left in their home and Pop truly is the homemaker. Mom is bedfast with ALS brought on by Lyme's disease. Pop lovingly cares for her every need! Some one of the family is alwasy there to help but Pop is really the one who does all Mom's care.I thank God for Pop!

I think of my own husband, the Father of our 9 children. Without him our home would not be a home the way it is.
 He is the steadying. He is the anchor.
 He is the one who works tirelessly to provide food and clothing and a roof over our heads. He is the one who fixes the leaky faucets, the screeching vaccuum sweeper, and the door that sticks. He is the one who gets up to check on the bumps in the night.
He is the fun-loving one ; always ready to show the kids something or play with them.
He's a friend to all the kids. He's the hugger and soother for the little ones and the counsellor for the older ones.
He is the one where "the buck stops" . He is the go to man for everyone.
He is the one who leads the family prayer. He is the one who answers their questions about God.
My man, my husband, my children's Dad, is the one behind this "home-maker"! He is the one who holds me up and gets me through the day.
He's the one who encourages me when things are tough and assures me that we'll get through it.
 I grocery shop. I feed him. I wash his clothes .(sometimes he even does that! ) I pick up his dirty socks. I keep the house clean. I listen when he needs to talk and I give input. I "mother" the kids.
 But.....
It's the man of the house. It's him. It's the father here who provides, the food , the house ,the vehicle, the clothes,even the wash machine!
It's the Father who provides what Mom needs, materially, physically , emotionally and spiritually and to be a homemaker.
It's the Father who is the REAL homemaker!!
Thank you, heavenly Father, for a godly man!

This post is linked at Homemakers by Choice
http://www.homemakerbychoice.net/2012/06/friday-homemaking-link-up_14.html

My Jesus Knows Just What I Need

My sister related a precious story to me that happened Saturday evening at my Mom's.

My Mom was "diagnosed" over 6 yrs ago with an incurable, terminal, motor neuron problem of undetermined cause or name. Within the last year we have come to understand that it was most likely Lyme disease left untreated. They began to call it Lou Gehrigs a year ago.
About 3 yrs ago she lost her ability to communicate verbally and this past summer became unable to type or write or eat.
She has been bedridden for the last few months.

In the Spring of 2011 Drs. told us to expect her to be gone by Fall '11, then changed it to Christmas, then said she could not make it to her 70th birthday Feb 20, 2012.

The process has been long, drawn out, and full of challenges, difficulties and emotions. One of the hardest to deal with has been the difficulty of communciation, expecially because it is evident that her mind and ability to comprehend has been largely unaffected.
She is no longer able to make any signs except occasionally to wiggle her toe in answer to a question.
My Dad does most of her care. Hospice nurses and we, children and grandchildren take up the extra. Someone of the family is there all the time.

This past weekend 5 of my siblings, and several of the in-laws and grandchildren were there. My niece who lives about 450 miles away wanted to show Grandma her new baby and the others had various other reasons.

Saturday evening as they sat and visited around Mom's bed , she became increasingly agitated , trying to communicate something to them. They tried and tried but were unable to determine what it was. My dad finally gave up in weariness as my sisters still struggled to understand.

It was then that my 13yrld nephew stepped over quietly to his Mom and asked if he could sing a song for Grandma. When he was told to go ahead, he slipped from the room to where the shelf where Mom's hymnals are kept and returned with it open to his selection. He stepped to the side of Grandma's bed and began to sing...

My Jesus knows when I am Lonely             
He knows each pain, He sees each tear
He understands each lonely heartache
He understands because He cares
Chorus:
My Jesus knows just what I need
Oh yes! He knows just what I need
He satisfies and every need supplies
Yes, He knows just what I need

My Jesus knows when I am burdened
He knows how much my heart can bear
He lifts me up when I am sinking
And brings me joy beyond compare

When other friends seem to forget me
When skies are dark, when hope is gone
By faith I feel His arms around me
And hear Him say, "You're not alone"
Chorus:
My Jesus knows just what I need
Oh yes! He knows just what I need
He satisfies and every need supplies
Yes, He knows just what I need

He satisfies and every need supplies
Yes, He knows just what I need

When he began to sing, Mom quieted and long before he finished all stanzas, every adult in the room was in tears.

Yes, My Jesus knows just what I need , what anyone needs, even when know one else can understand.

A little child shall lead them.