Next Christmas Might be the Last Christmas

If 7/12/17 is my expiration date, then Christmas 2016 will be my last Christmas.  How will I spend it?

This Christmas I have been in a nostalgic mood, commemorating the 15th anniversary of spending Christmas vacation in Brasil, reliving the memories with family and friends through Facebook.

Next Christmas I think I might go UNPLUGGED.

I started holiday baking on Thanksgiving weekend and didn't make anything traditional this year but instead made things with the recipient in mind.  Next year I want to dig out the old family recipes and make things for us to enjoy.

Last Christmas we had hot chocolate / cuddle / reading time every day.  Last Christmas we worked a jigsaw puzzle.  Last Christmas we had a train around our tree.  I want to do those again next year.  And watch a Christmas movie every day.  

This Christmas we spent the obligatory amount of time at the in-laws.  Next Christmas I'd love to go away to somewhere snowy so we really have a reason to do all that cuddling.  But I'd also like to put the car keys in the freezer and go nowhere.  But I'd also like to go to all the Christmas activities (like the North Pole Village without the puking, see carolers on the river barges, go to a Christmas parade).

I want it to be MAGICAL.  My youngest will be 11 and he might still believe in Santa.  He will be in fifth grade so I can't imagine getting much more Santa beyond that.  If next Christmas is his last Christmas with his mother, I want to pack every last childhood fantasy Christmas moment into it.

Puking at the Pole

Overall I'm a pretty healthy person.  (Really hoping I don't jinx myself here.)  I keep a steady dose of Vitamin C and Probiotics, if I have to interact with someone sick I wash my hands with soap immediately after - but I'm  not a germophobe.  I used to know someone who was hyper-vigilant about germs and her kids were frequently sick.  I've read, and I believe, that if you live too germ-free your body doesn't learn to fight them off.

So the other night we went with some friends and our kids to the North Pole Village.  On the way there I said to my husband, my tummy feels weird.  It was our first time but the other family had been their before and the kids were talking about their memories from previous years.  Soon after we arrived at the North Pole I told my husband I needed a bottle of water and a peppermint (because I've heard it settles the stomach).  Oddly, the peppermint was difficult to procure but the water was a relief.  Not long after that I made a path to the bathroom and threw up.  I cannot remember the last time I had that experience.  I think it's been more than a decade.  45 minutes later I went back for a repeat performance.

But what do you do when you are all the way at the "North Pole" and four kids are having a good time.  You stick it out.  

An hour later we gathered a couple of plastic bags and headed back to civilization.  As I was fighting back the urge to puke for the third time and praying to God that I not vomit in a car full of kids I wretched before I could even say Amen.  The driver pulled over and I got out and amazingly lost more of my stomach contents than I even thought possible by that time.  What was more horrifying though was that the kids were adding this to the memories of the event.  I can just hear them in the car next year:  remember the time that old man sang karaoke, remember the time I got that stuffed animal, remember the time our friend's mom got sick.

Two hours later, in the comfort of my own bathroom, I threw up yet again.  For a brief moment I seriously thought death would be better.  And then I thought what a wimp I am!  I thought of my friend who is fighting cancer, losing hair, posting pictures of her radiation mask.  I had to ask my husband what the mask was and he explained how they put it over your head and then screw it to a board so you can't move during the procedure.  I cannot imagine how torturous that feels.  And yet she praises God and finds beauty and miracles all around her.  

If I ever do get really sick, cancer sick, I'm going to have to dig VERY deep for strength and perseverance.  

The Reason We Age

Last week, as I was contemplating a relative who is aged to the point that they can't care for themselves, I began to wonder why God allows aging to the point of dependency.  When people's mental faculties diminish to the point that they don't know what day it is, much less how to cook a meal or drive a car - they can no longer be the hands and feet of Christ.  So why does God leave them here in their confused and frustrated state when he could so easily call them home?

So here's what I came up with:
Without nursing homes who would the school groups go caroling to or do other visitation projects?  Well, they could still go to hospitals or homeless shelters.
Maybe the Association of Elder Care Workers has made a big contribution to God's political campaign so he's rewarding them with steady work?
Well, if God wanted to bless people with work it would happen.  If great numbers of elder care workers were suddenly out of work God could create a new industry that we can't even conceive yet.

I'm starting to think the purpose of their aging is so that their children or other family will once again learn to work together.  By this time in a parent's life cycle the children are grown and split off into their own family factions.   Many times there are years of hurt feelings built up between them for various reasons.

In Dr.  Phil style I might ask, "How's that working for you God?"
In my observations a few outcomes occur:
1.  The family comes together, works it out, and goes their separate way again
2.  The family comes together, but some do more than others and additional resentment builds
3.  They don't come together at all and wind up fighting about everything.

So - I'm still left wondering, what is the point of aging.  Any ideas out there?

Activity Centers

I suspect that places that care for older people have so many activities in order to keep their minds and bodies active and healthy, as I was discussing last week.  Getting out and being with others is a good way to ward off depression, which often sets in to aging minds.  Even if that "out" is just out of your room and down to the dining room.

I've often thought though, one of the root problems with moving to a senior facility is timing.   (Money being an obvious problem too.)  Money you either have or you don't and you look for something in your budget.  But there is no budget for when.

When my mother wasn't joking about living 6 months of the year with each daughter, she always said she didn't want to be a burden on her children.  She said numerous times as I was growing through my teens and early adult years that we should just "put her in a home".  But, when it came down to it, she resented it.  She didn't think the timing was right and she sure didn't appreciate the concept of being "put in a home",  regardless of her numerous references to it through the years.

Now-a-days it seems almost a given that anyone who lives past 65 will start to have diminished mental capacity.  I've observed it is a very fine line between being mentally able to recognize that a senior facility would be a good place for you and actually needing one but being so mentally deficient that you don't think you need it.  In the people I've watched go through this process it seems to flip like a light switch.  One day they are fine enough to not need a facility and the next they really need it but are adamant that they don't.  And moving them in a diminished mental state is SO MUCH HARDER than if they had moved in willingly and got used to their surroundings with all their brain cells active.

If I continue to operate under the idea that receiving an expiration date was just meant to shake me up and get me to accomplish things, then that would lead to, some years from now, identifying a retirement home and moving in when I am still completely healthy.  I've heard there are some facilities that have different stages of care - from retirement to assisted to nursing.  We'll see, if I get past 7/12/17 maybe I'll set up a long-term care account for a start.

Aging Gracefully

Along the lines of doing our part and always working towards something, I'm reminded of an older man I once knew.  In fact, the central character in the book I'm writing is based on him.  He said the secret to aging well is to stay active.  He continued to volunteer in a variety of activities and attended community classes to learn new skills well into his 70s and probably beyond (I've lost touch with him).

I've seen family members who raised children then cared for a spouse with cancer.  Once those things were complete - they did nothing but sit in their house.  I suggested they volunteer or join a social group but was told that it wasn't their style.  I really could not conceive of an existence just sitting at home every day.  But that's what they did.  It wasn't too many years before the health started to fail leading to mental decline.  Of course, there is no control group as in a science experiment so who's to know if they had stayed active if it would have helped, but I hypothesize it would have.

What's Really Important

Looking at my goals posted last week makes me feel like there are just too many places where I could focus my energy and I don't have a good method of determining where the right place is.  Should I work on the probable or the practical?  Should I focus on the big dreams or the extravagant dreams?

Sometimes I look at some of the less motivated students that I work with and I wonder how they envision their future.  They've given up on school, they don't work, do they think they are just going to flop on someone's sofa for the rest of their life?  How can they continue day after day without having a purpose in life?

In the end I've concluded the what is less important than just doing something.  I think as long as we are always working toward something then we are doing our part on this earth.

What Are My Goals

So, as I posted last week, if I'm just supposed to get shaken into action towards what I really want - I need to figure out what that is.  The biggest what if that comes to mind is what if what I want now and start working towards isn't what I'm going to want in 18 months?

But, now is all I've got to work with, so what I want:

1.  To get hired as a teacher
2.  To lose weight

3.  To publish a book

If I focus on those things though, then I'm not going to make as much progress cleaning out closets, weeding out possessions and eventually updating my will and catching up on scrapbooking which is what I would feel like I should be doing if I only had 18 months left.  Because what good would it do to work as a teacher for a year at my ideal weight but leave a mess behind when I die.

And these are only my practical wants that I feel like I have some control over.

I'm not even putting on the short list the things like family peace and unity.

Or the impractical wants like going to the Olympics in Rio (as a spectator).

Realizing the Truth

I recently read The House at the End of Hope Street by Menna Van Praag.  In the story the personified house lets its' caretaker know that she will die within one year.  Wow!  - that piqued my interest in the story.  The novel follows one main character and three supporting characters so this theme wasn't the central theme.  But I did see Peggy, the caretaker, wrestle with how to spend the rest of her days, and feeling like it was futile to care about certain things and carry on with responsibilities and such.

SPOILER ALERT
Towards the end of the novel, Peggy decides to give up her lifetime commitment to caring for the house and go be happy with her boyfriend.  Then the house tells her she isn't going to die as soon as she thought.  Peggy asks the house why it told her she only had a year to live and the house replied, "so she could realize how [she] truly felt and what [she] truly wanted.  Impending death always has a way of clearing the fog."  (p. 270)

What fantastic news!!!  Maybe I'm not going to die on July 12, 2017.  Maybe I just need to feel a sense of urgency so that I will accomplish my goals.

House Episode

During its run we enjoyed watching the television series "House" on the Fox network.  Even now we often watch reruns.  One day we came across one that I don't remember seeing originally.  I believe the episode was titled "Damned If You Do?" In the episode a nun was struggling with her mysterious illness and questions of faith.  I thought the brief scene had a lot of food for thought.

She started out conversing with Dr. Chase.  At some point Dr. House enters the room and I can't tell from the transcript which doctor was speaking at all times, but if you've ever seen the show you can definitely tell which one was House.  It went something like this:
Augustine: I don't want to die. Why has He left me? 

Dr. Chase: I was in seminary school. They asked us once what our favorite passage was. I chose 1 Peter 1:7. “These trials only test your faith to see whether or not it is strong and pure. Your faith is being tested as fire tests gold and purifies it.” 

Augustine: “And your faith is far more precious to the Lord than pure gold; so if your faith remains strong after being tested, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day of His return.” 

Dr. Chase: He hasn’t left you. The only thing in the way of your knowing if he’s left you is your fear. You have a choice: faith or fear. That’s the test. 

Augustine: Do you think faith doesn’t mean I won’t die? 

Dr. Chase: It will affect how you experience your death, and therefore your life. It’s up to you.   Room's paid up for the rest of the week.  Might as well stick around.

Augustine:  This illness is a test of my faith.  If it's His will to take me, it doesn't matter where I am.  I can accept that.

(Around this point Dr. House joins the conversations)

Doctor:  Does anybody believe anything you say?  You're not accepting.  You're running away.  Just like you always do.  You ran away from the monastery to get laid.  You ran away from the real world when getting laid didn't work out so good.  Now things aren't working out again, so off you go.

Augustine:  Why is it so difficult for you to believe in God?

Doctor:  What I have difficulty with is the whole concept of belief.

Augustine:  Faith isn't based on logic and experience.  I experience God on a daily basis and the miracle of life all around - the miracle of birth, the miracle of love.  He is always with me.

Doctor:  Where is the miracle in delivering a crack-addicted baby?  Hmm?  Then watching her mother abandon her 'cause she needs another score.  Miracle of love.  You're over twice as likely to be killed by the person you love than by a stranger.

Augustine:  Are you trying to talk me out of my faith?

Doctor House:  You can have all the faith you want in spirits and the afterlife and heaven and hell.  But when it comes to this world, don't be an idiot.  'Cause you can tell me that you put your faith in God to get you through the day, but when it comes to crossing the street, I know you look both ways.

Augustine:  I don't believe He is inside me and is going to save me.  I believe He is inside me whether I live or die.

Doctor:  Then you might as well live.  You got a better shot betting on me than on him.

Augustine:  When I was 15, I was on every kind of birth control known to man [House gasps] and I still got pregnant.  I blamed God.  I hated him for ruining my life.  But then I realized something.  You can't be angry with God and not believe in Him at the same time.  No one can.  Not even you, Dr. House.

Pre-paid Obits

You can pre-pay a cell phone and pre-pay your kids college fund - why not pre-paid obituaries.

Lock in now at the cheaper rate and go for the full package!

I know from experience that obituaries are expensive.  At a time when there are other expenses, often unexpected, all necessary, it is understandable that people trim down the obituary.

This past weekend I saw an obituary for somebody I might have known.  If it is the person I knew, I knew them in 1987 and 1988.  I never saw them again but often wondered about them.  They were a very nice person who left a lasting impression on me.  

I knew him as Bobby.  The obituary said Robert.  Same last name although it is a common one.

I'm not good at facial recognition.  Especially when it's been 28 years and the photo in the paper is much more current than my memory.  So I looked for life details.  There was info on the most recent job and that he managed an unnamed restaurant for 13 years.  

But there was no mention of his high school which I might have remembered - but again, common name.  Or how about the interesting fact that he was a Rotary Exchange Student and went to Brazil.  I know not everyone who is an exchange student has the same experience - but for me it has definitely shaped my life.  I might even say the experience of living abroad has defined a large part of my life.  It changed the way I view people and situations.  It enabled me to get jobs I never would have gotten otherwise.  It taught me to dance a little more freely, love a little more openly, and that black clothes are not just for mourning.

Take note whoever writes my obituary:  Include the details!  Fork over the cash - it's the last gift you'll give me.  Skimp on the casket, I won't feel the extra cushion.  I doubt anyone in attendance can recognize a $3000 casket from a $1000 casket.  Really, it's not like I need gold inlay.  I want people to read my obituary and feel sorry that they missed knowing me.  Show those soccer moms who thought I was too old or too uncool that it really was their loss.

Laying Down One's Life

I like romance stories.  A common theme in these stories is the hero risking his life to save the heroine, who is also his true love.  Of course, in fiction, they usually both survive.

I have heard many humans express their love for another with the sentiment that they would lay down their life to save the other.  It sounds selfless, but when you stop and really reflect, this is what they are indeed saying:

1.  There's this great place called Heaven that we are all waiting to get to - but I'm going to cut the line and see if I can't get there before you

2.  I'm going to do something that might end my life but you will be saved.  So you can stay here on this earth and miss me every day.  You can learn to live with the guilt that I died to save you.  You can go through the rest of your life bereft and grieving.

Staying behind is the hard part!  That's what torments me most about my potential exit on 7/12/17, that I will have to leave my kids behind.  Sure it sounds self-centered to think they can't go on without me.  I know they can.  They are strong.  They will go on.  But they will also have sadness and longing and an absence that I am not there to fill.  In my earthly, mother's heart the idea of hurting my children bothers me.

It seems like the more romantic, heroic thing to do would be to say to your loved one, you take my place at the great banquet table of Heaven, I'll stay down here and wait in the rain without an umbrella on the dark night, with stray and rabid dogs nipping at my heels.  I'll keep waiting for the next Heaven-bound bus that comes along, even though it may be decades.  And I'll miss you but I'll be glad you are safe and secure and happy and comfortable in Heaven.

The Shower Bubble

I'm starting to think that the shower is the best place in the world.

When I'm in the shower in the morning, I'm not late yet.  I can envision my day and anything is still possible.  It's only after I get out and there's a wardrobe malfunction or my hair won't cooperate that I start to run late.  When I'm in the shower I still haven't broken my diet or said the wrong thing.

If I shower in the evening I wash away all the stress and strain of the day.  I step out fresh and clean and ready for a restful night and a new day tomorrow.

Another Non-Fatal Condition

Recently I had my first physical in probably 25 years. Thanks to the new health care laws an annual physical is free and I love taking advantage of free opportunities.

During the physical they did an EKG and determined that I have a Bundle Branch Blockage.  So the left and right sides of my heart are operating out of synch.  Like always, I did some reading, it's not really serious even though the doctor did recommend I do a stress test with a cardiologist, as a baseline.  Many people have BBB and don't even know it.

I almost find it more of a frustration.  At least with this condition, as opposed to Gilbert's Syndrome, it is invisible whereas Gilbert leaves my eyes yellow and my skin looking horrible.  But otherwise it is frustrating because it is serious enough to have a name but there's really nothing to do.  It's like a false start at a track race.  You're ready to run the distance but nope, come back and assume the ready position for a bit longer.  At some point the race is going to start.  The sooner it starts the sooner it will be over.

Is it just a side effect of better science that can now diagnose these conditions?  I wonder how many conditions the average person has.

Fears

I read a book titled "O, Africa!" by Andrew Lewis Conn.  I hated the book but I forced myself to read it because I had received a promotional copy in exchange for writing a review.  I tried not to stress about what a waste of time it was to read this very unenjoyable book when there were so many others I genuinely wanted to read.  Finally, way towards the end of the book, on page 294, I was rewarded with some food for thought.

One of the characters said, "The thing you fear most is the thing that will happen."

Most people, when asked what they are afraid of, will say something like spiders or bats or maybe even waking up alone.  The quote works for those things and initially that was how I contemplated it.  Then I suddenly had a transcendental understanding of the quote - like a gift from God.

If there is a specific answer to the riddle-like quote - it is DEATH.  Most people don't admit it, or maybe have pushed it so far aside that it doesn't come to mind when asked, but I believe almost everyone fears death.  If not we wouldn't fight so hard to hang on to life.  Death is unknown and therefore scary.  We may have ideas about what happens after death - but we have no absolute, infallible, concrete proof.

Someone may not like spiders - but we are always bigger than the spider.
Nobody is bigger than Death.  Death WILL happen.
Sooner or later.  From the moment we are born, we are dying.

From time to time you hear of exceptional people who are ready to go to their celestial home and seemingly have no fear.  I've heard that faith and fear cannot co-exist.  Yet all humans are imperfect therefore nobody has perfect faith.  And from the moment we are born we are fearful - babies cry because they are afraid of the unknown, the shock of being born or wet or hungry and not knowing if the state will ever change.

It is a conundrum for me - faith and fear.

Supertramp - The Long Way Home

As I continue to enjoy my Satellite radio in the (still new in my heart even though it is officially a year old) car I was contemplating Supertramp lyrics the other day.

The part that got me thinking was the verse towards the end:


Does it feel that you life's become a catastrophe?
Oh, it has to be for you to grow, boy.
When you look through the years and see what you could
have been oh, what might have been,
if you'd had more time.

But, today, as I look up the lyrics, I see the dreaminess of the song:

So you think you're a Romeo
playing a part in a picture-show

Cos you're the joke of the neighborhood
Why should you care if you're feeling good

You never see what you want to see
Forever playing to the gallery

After each of those - the chorus "take the long way home".


I want to take the long way home.  I want to dream big dreams and not care what others think.
Is it too late to start?  I have dreams, but I set them aside and take the direct route home because there are things to do there - dinners to cook and dishes to wash and laundry, etc.

We can't all live carefree lives, following our dreams - we need the worker bees.
Yet, it would seem, we all have dreams.
So why are some people blessed with abilities and situations to follow them and others are not?
I suppose that is the same question as why are some people blessed with good health and others not.

More Reading

A few weeks ago I posted about a book I was reading called "Dying to be Me" by Anita Moorjani.  The main point of her story about a Near Death Experience (some would say she crossed over and came back) while she was battling cancer was that, in her opinion, FEAR was the cause of her cancer.

Hmmm, that is certainly food for thought considering that I've said several times on this blog that cancer is the thing I fear most in the world.

The author's viewpoint is that she grew up "fearing failing, being disliked, letting people down, and not being good enough" (p. 132) and all that fear caused her cancer.  OK, so I'm ahead of the game a little bit.  I don't doubt myself.  I learned early on how to be completely happy with who I am.  A birth defect will do that for you.  A cleft palate at birth left my lip deformed by a scar.  Children frequently made fun of me growing up so I adopted the attitude that if they didn't want to get to know me just because I had a scar on my lip then they weren't someone I wanted to know anyway.

So I know I'm not too hard on myself, but I do pledge to be less afraid of death by cancer.  I will try to refocus my thoughts about July 12, 2017 as a day of opportunity and new beginning.

Prognosis

I heard an interesting discussion on the radio - a medical talk channel I've recently tuned in on XM radio.  A caller said that when her father was diagnosed with Alzheimers she was able to find a special type of therapist who told them about the seven levels of the disease and what to expect in each one and they provided an assessment of what stage her father was currently in.  She found it very helpful and wanted to let others know it was a possibility.

The two doctors felt that most people would not want to know.  One indicated that it was also available for Dementia patients too.  I wish I had known!  When my mom was suffering from Dementia it seemed like it all happened so fast, especially the end.  I think I would have appreciated knowing how close we were.  I might have been more prepared or had a different focus and made different choices.

The doctors also said that years ago it was common practice to give a prognosis of the likely amount of time left for a terminal patient but now there has been a shift and doctors are told not to take hope away from the patient.  I've heard this philosophy along the lines of the power of positive thinking.  I definitely believe in positive thinking but I think it is unwise to stick our heads in the sand.  

I'd rather be told I have six months and make a personal resolution to beat it and prove them wrong and look at every day past that as a gift.  On the other hand I do like the commercial for The Cancer Treatment Center of America that says, "none of us comes with an expiration date."

Maybe It's Better I Don't Get Old

Here's something about me I don't admit very often - I don't really like old people.

Give me a room full of high school students any day over a single older person.

I know I'm not alone in feeling creeped out going into a nursing home - a lot of people feel that way.

Not my daughter - when she was younger and the Girl Scouts or Youth Group would go to a nursing home, she thought they were all so cute.  She never seemed to notice that I was staying on the perimeter and counting the minutes until it was over.

Even when my own mother was in the last stages of her life - I had NO patience with her.

I could not stand to have the same conversation time after time on the rare times I visited.

Not my son - he had a standing Wednesday night visit with her and enjoyed her stories.

And when she was in the hospital and completely non-sensical, he'd redirect her to her socks.

In my head I was screaming, "Just take your pills old woman and we wouldn't be in this hospital."

She was wanting to go look for her own mother (dead already more than a decade) and my son would say, "I like your socks" and she'd pause and look at them and say, "They're yellow" - for the fifth time in half an hour yet it was as if she had just discovered them.

While I am proud of my children and their endless patience with their Grandma, I am certainly not proud of my own impatience.  I often think maybe it is a good think if 7/12/17 is my end date and I don't have to grow old because if there is any credence to the concept of Karma, I'm due for a miserable old age.  

I know we all have our strengths.  To be the Body of Christ on Earth not everyone can be a hand, some have to be a foot.  I'm a very logical person, that's how God made me for His purpose.  But Logical and Senile just don't pair well together.  I'm okay with that.  I'm not beating my self up about my weakness, just continuing to keep my screaming thoughts inside me head whenever the need arises and knowing that I am NOT meant to serve God in the old folks home.

Recommended Reading

My friend whose words I borrowed last week recommended a book called "Dying To Be Me" by Anita Moorjani.  The second time she recommended it to me, months apart, I thought I'd better just go ahead and read the book because it obviously left a strong impression on her.

The author was dying of cancer and had a Near Death Experience but then came back and now tells everyone how she beat cancer by changing her attitude and outlook.  At least, that's the gist I've got so far, but I'm not quite half way through.

I did find a passage on page 43 to be speaking straight to me though and because of that connection I am more into the book.

Mrs. Moorjani had a friend and a brother-in-law die of cancer within a few months of each other.  She says, "This news instilled a deep fear in me because both of them were close to my age.  I began researching everything I could about cancer and its causes.  Initially, I started doing this in the hope of helping, because I wanted to be there for Soni, to help her fight.  But I found that the more I read about the disease, the more I was afraid of everything that could potentially cause it.  I started to believe that everything created cancer - pesticides, microwaves, preservatives, genetically modified foods, sunshine, air pollution, plastic food containers, mobile phones, and so on.  This progressed until eventually, I started to fear life itself."

Over the past year or so I have done internet "research" regarding a liver condition I have (Gilbert's syndrome) and, unrelated, autism - among other things.  I have found reason to blame pesticides, preservatives, GMOs, antibiotics in meat, the combination of plastic food containers and microwaves, and other random toxins.  So I could really relate to the author - which always makes a book more enjoyable (not that the subject is enjoyable, but relatable is good nonetheless).

Thankfully I am not yet scared of life and don't think I'll get to that point.  But I have changed a lot of the ways I do life.  I've changed the meat I eat, the way I use the microwave, the way I store food, the way I look at soaps and food and beverages.  Yes, I'll still eat at McDonald's and enjoy a Dr. Pepper, but not with the frequency that I used to.

Back to the reading...

I Share the Sentiment

A friend of mine is Fighting Like a Girl against cancer.  She has a facebook page Fight Like A Girl and she blogs on it a bit.  A few days ago I read one of her posts and she very eloquently put to words some of the feelings and thoughts I have had since the dream one and a half years ago that told me 7/12/17 might be the day I die.  I've had these thoughts and all I've had is a dream.  She's got a diagnosis so I can only imagine how much more intense they are for her.  For me it is an inward struggle to think I've grown up a Christian, knowing I'll go to Heaven, but yet feeling like I'm not ready yet.  I don't enjoy that conflict within.  

With her permission, I share some of her words here:

 But when things get a little serious (and it only takes a little), I can immediately feel the weight of what's happening.
Our friend was here for a short meeting to talk about me switching my insurance to John's and a couple other things. And I'm not sure what was said, maybe it was the urgency of taking care of things before my insurance period ended, maybe it was getting a bone density scan or talk of wills and powers of attorney, maybe it was talk of not going back to teaching this Fall?
It's all important. And we need to talk about those things.
But I couldn't fight back the tears. And I still can't even as I write this.
It's taken me a long time to realize my worth, and how much I truly want to live.
And, darn it, I want to live!
I'm strong, and so blessed, and the Lord's grace is all over me. So, honestly, I'm at peace with it all most of the time.
But sometimes, like now, I remember that I've been officially deemed "terminal." Yes, we're all terminal. But for all my efforts, this thing could still grow, and I may not be here next month.
I'm simply too young to miss all there is.
I'm sad.
You know, I think it's ok to be in this place sometimes. And just let myself feel. I spent a lot of years suppressing my feelings, not thinking I was worthy to have them. So now there's something almost joyful about being sad, because I'm just being me with no apologies. And that feels kind of good. 

What's the Big Secret?

The other thing I often wonder as I read the obits is - what's the big secret?  I find myself often wondering what took the life of these people.  Some die so young.  Others leave children behind and certainly it must have been something really strong and powerful to rip them away from their children.  Every now and then you'll see the cause of death listed.  Usually in a nicely worded fashion like lost their battle with cancer or something along those lines.   Or you can make a guess based on the charity they request donations for.

Is there some social stigma I'm missing that contra-indicates mentioning the cause of death?  NOTE TO WHOEVER WRITES MY OBIT:  Just tell people how I died - there's really no shame in it.  Not that this would happen to me but with the right words anything could sound good:  Heroin, the king of evil took over your life and brought it to an end, but now you rest in the arms of the King of Heaven.

I can speak from personal experience.  My first husband committed suicide.  I definitely did NOT write that into his obituary.  Partly because it seemed so horrendous and also, at the time, I wasn't sure I wanted the children to know.  Truth be told we didn't make it through the viewing before one of them overheard it in the bathroom.  Looking back on it now with perspective it would have been just fine to write it in.  Surely there was more whispering about whether it was or wasn't than if I'd just come out and said it.

And when my mom passed away a little over a year ago from complications of Dementia, I didn't write the cause then either.  But now that I've given it some thought, I would definitely write both of them differently.

Opining on Obituaries

Two or three times a month I flip through the obituary section of the Sunday paper.  Especially now that they have moved it into the "Faith" section.

Why do I look?  Many reasons:
- I'm writing a book inspired by a man who is in his late 70s or early 80s.  I hope to finish the book before he dies but I'm not in regular contact with him so mainly I check to see if he's still alive
- I'm vaguely curious about people I used to know in other versions of my life
- It seems like good practice not to assume nobody I know would be in there
- Occasionally I see a relative of someone I know and can offer the appropriate condolences
- My grandmother used to joke that she read them to make sure she wasn't in there
- I have been called on to write several obituaries so maybe I'm keeping up with trends

So one Sunday as I was flipping through I thought to myself - maybe I should start writing my own obituary and leave it where my family can find it.  When I wrote my mom's obituary it was much harder than I thought it would be and I got some things wrong.  Things I never thought to ask her or confirm.  I'd heard bits and pieces of her early life but trying to string it all together in a chronological coherent fashion was a challenge.  If I could take that frustration from the family I leave behind - why not.

Then I turned the page and saw a man who had done just that.  It was a large spread.  I had not heard of the man but apparently he achieved some success in his field (something related to oil).  He did not write it to be pompous but because he wanted to encourage others in how to live well.

Sadly though, what I took from it was that as successful as this man supposedly was - he wrote a crap obituary.  It alternated between an "I went to this school" first person to speaking about himself in the third person.  It was probably 20 or 30 paragraphs and every couple of paragraphs switched back to the other voice.

So that's definitely one thing to keep in mind if I write my own - edit well.  If I don't, I imagine my daughter would write it.  She has a knack for writing too so I'm sure it will be in good hands.

Nail Polish

During my time off this summer I have been cleaning out closets and cabinets and trying to purge stuff that is unnecessary.  Such as the 18 pairs of Size 4 pants that have hung in my closet literally collecting dust for more years than I care to divulge.  Honestly, I'm never going to fit back in them and if I did then I probably would deserve a new wardrobe.  So they are out.

I also found a ridiculous amount of nail polish.  Some I received as gifts, some free with coupons.  More than I will ever use at the rate I only paint my toenails a few times during the summer.  So, last night I painted my fingernails.  Wow, is it weird!  I have only painted my fingernails once that I can remember in the past 25 years. 

It is surprising how much my body registers the presence of that coat of stuff when I just use my hands around the kitchen.  Apparently I frequently bang the larger surface area of my nails and now that the coat of polish is there I feel the resistance.

I'm thinking positive that I'm going to get a teaching job and if I do, maybe I'll paint my nails on a regular basis.  Most of my most recent jobs have used my hands so much that it just didn't make sense. 

Here's to using up all my nail polish and having fabulous hands as they float across the white board!

Missed It

As I start to write a post today it occurs to me that the date is 7/21/17.  21 is the reverse order of 12.  Which means 7/12/15 came and went and I didn't even think about it.  7/12/14 was a day of lots of thoughts for me -but nothing this year, hmmh.  I haven't forgotten entirely, it still crosses my mind frequently, probably daily.  But for now life is progressing mostly normally until I get further instruction.

iPod + Dirty Pool = Therapy

We have a pool in our back yard and the majority of the maintenance is my responsibility.  Once or twice a week I grab my iPod and spend almost an hour or so vacuuming the pool.  Sometimes it frustrates me because there are other things I need to be doing, but usually I'm okay with it.

When I first started using my iPod while I vacuumed I thought I would dance a bit and turn it into a sort of exercise time.  Sometimes I do that but it has actually become very therapeutic.

With my earbuds in I go into a whole different world through any of the 1300 songs that may come up.  Some are Brazilian, some are eclectic, some are from my youth, some remind me of past lives.  Many have Christian lyrics that I find inspirational and redeeming.

The songs take me through a wealth of emotions as I work out solutions to problems, contemplate regrets, and attempt to face fears about the future.  I've learned to keep a tissue in my pocket because I usually wind up crying.  I cry for relief at hearing how much God loves me in spite of..., I cry for frustration of regrets I can never change, and I cry in response to fear of things to come and probably I cry for 199 other reasons which I am not psychologically adept enough to identify.

All I know is, it feels like therapy and it's a lot cheaper.  (Well, total pool operation budget not included, just hour for hour.)  When I go back inside I feel refreshed and renewed.  When I have the summer off it is easy to attend these therapy sessions.  Once I go back to work it becomes a little more challenging, but even still when I use precious weekend time for this activity I often feel an impending loss at the thought that soon we will cover the pool up for the winter.

Death by Twitter

A few months ago I read in a Dear Abby column or something similar about someone who found it offensive that someone else was tweeting about their loved one dying.  Abby (or whoever) explained that this is yet another sign of the times and that, within reason, it should not be offending.  She cautioned that it is probably best not to send pictures and, if at all possible, get the permission of the one who is dying, but otherwise it is socially acceptable.

So that set me to wondering if anyone will tweet of my last days.  I hope they do.  Not intimate details but at least prayer requests along with general status updates.  I have only a handful of Twitter followers on my book review twitter handle @BedTimeBookRevw but I'm sure my kids have a lot of followers.  I'm sure in those moments I will be comforted greatly by the prayers that might be sent up as a result of a Tweet.  Although, given that this will occur in at least 2 1/2 years society may well be onto something new and Twitter may be a distant memory.

Hmmm, if I were super-technically inclined I might even create just the app or site that exists for the sole purpose of updating subscribers to one's medical status.  That way the happy social sites aren't made gloomy by death and dying.

Seasons in the Sun

When I was a kid I really liked the song "Seasons in the Sun" by Terry Jacks.  In the '70s I had it on a little 45 record.  Recently I downloaded a digital version of it to my iPod.  What a ridiculously depressing song it is - I guess it was the catchy tune that drew me in as a child.

Goodbye to you, my trusted friend
We've known each other since we were nine or ten
Together we climbed hills and trees
Learned of love and A B C's
Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees

Goodbye, my friend, it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Pretty girls are everywhere
Think of me and I'll be there

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were just seasons
Out of time

Goodbye Papa, please pray for me
I was the black sheep of the family
You tried to teach me right from wrong
Too much wine and too much song
Wonder how I got along

Goodbye Papa, its hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Little children everywhere
When you see them I'll be there

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the seasons
Have all gone

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the seasons
Have all gone

Goodbye Michelle, my little one
You gave me love and helped me find the sun
And every time that I was down
You would always come around
And get my feet back on the ground

Goodbye Michelle it's hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
With the flowers everywhere
I wish that we could both be there

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the stars we could reach
Were just starfish on the beach

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the stars we could reach
Were just starfish on the beach

We had joy we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the seasons
Have all gone

All our lives we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed were just seasons
Out of time

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun

I Don't Know Why I'm Scared of Cancer

Other than it being a horrible and unfair disease, I really don't know why cancer is my biggest fear.  Statistically, I have no family history of cancer.  Which I think is pretty remarkable in this day and age.  I find it odd that I am so afraid of getting cancer even knowing lack of family history makes the statistics a little more in my favor.  Yet recognizing that it is an odd fear makes me feel a little better - although no less fearful.

Today's Not the Day

On a recent trip to Six Flags I got in line to ride a roller coaster but then decided I was short of breath so I just stood aside and waited as my husband and youngest son rode (twice).  Although I'm not a fan of roller coasters, I'd ridden this coaster before and remembered it to be enjoyable so it wasn't fear of the ride holding me back.  It was simply the feeling of being slightly short of breath combined with the knowledge that I have a minor heart condition that was found during a recent physical but for which I have not yet seen the cardiologist.  Yet as I stood there waiting it occurred to me that it is not July 12, 2017 so obviously I would survive the ride.  I suppose I might stroke-out and wind up in a non-productive state until I ultimately die on July 12, 2017 but I try not to dwell on that too much as I am hoping for a quick and painless death.  I rode the coaster later in the afternoon and, obviously, I survived.  Although it wasn't as enjoyable as I remembered (from 11 years prior) it was still fun.

Still Learning

For all my loyal readers, I apologize.  I've been blogging for over a year now and have been very consistent in posting weekly.  Sometimes I have more than one thought in a week so I write a draft post but don't publish.  Recently I've posted some drafts that I wrote some time ago.  I did not realize that the posts inserted themselves into the chronological order of when they were created.  So it looks like I haven't posted in a few weeks.  If you are interested search for the titles "Analysis of a Dream", " Knitting Baby Blankets", and "Just Call Me Martha".  Going forward I will fix it so that doesn't happen.

1 TImothy 1:12

I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me trustworthy, appointing me to his service.

While reading Debbie MacComber's "Knit Together" (which I've mentioned in previous posts) I realized I don't study the Bible as much as I used to.  So, it's not much, but I got an app that sends me a verse of the day.  When I read the verse above I thought it might be a handy one to remember.

On my more reflective days, I appreciate the trust God had in me to raise the three children He blessed me with.  But beyond that, I know that whatever my upcoming journey may be, somehow I want to glorify God through it.  Hopefully I can remember that whatever the challenge, God trusted me when he gave me the job.

Growing my own Food Supply

Several years ago I was feeling overwhelmed by the amount of food recalls that were occurring and I felt called to start growing my own food sources for my family.  I got my then teenage son outside to help prepare a patch of land, my husband built a frame and we ordered some garden dirt.  I planted, I fed, I watered, I safeguarded and we starved.  Or, we would have if that was our sole food source!

Even when I buy a tomato plant labeled "Big Boy" and with a good healthy start to it already, I only get a few tomatoes the size of cherry tomatoes. My carrots were baby carrots and my broccoli stalks were florets.  What we did cultivate we enjoyed but after three or four seasons of growing, including rotating locations as recommended, I've determined I am not a gardener.

Since we live in the country and don't subscribe to garbage pick up, I throw food scraps out in a corner of the yard.  When I started that several years ago I thought maybe something would spontaneously grow there.  Not just from a Murphy's Law standpoint but it seemed likely since animals walk over it and push seed down into the ground and probably graze there and maybe poop there for natural fertilization.  It gets some sun but not all day sun and of course it gets rain.  But even with all those natural things going on - nothing grows.

So glad we have access to a local market that provides high quality meat and produce at an affordable price!  A gardener I am not.  My new thing is replacing some convenience foods like yogurt and pop-tarts with homemade versions.  I'm much better with a spatula than a shovel.   The Donvier Yogurt Maker makes it SO easy.  I've got a great recipe for rolls from scratch.  I par-bake them and freeze several servings in one Saturday so I've got a few months worth.  With patience I'm finding several brands for staples like cheese and pasta that I can buy with the confidence of knowing there are no junk ingredients in them and their processes agree with my priorities.

If I live past 7/12/17 maybe it will be because I took enough processed crap out of my diet to tip the scales in my favor.  Even though I failed at gardening I listened to the call - and that right there is a success.  It led me down a different path that branched off a couple of times, but I am more educated and aware than if I had stuck my head in the garden dirt and not changed anything.

What if this is all there is?

I think every one feels their life goes through cycles: times of everything in sync and rolling smoothly, times of mediocrity, and times of chaos.  Right now I'm in a mediocre time and I've begun to wonder - what if this is all there is?  What if this is all I was meant to do?

I'm not currently working in anything for which I'll win an award.  Not like winning Checker of the Year in college or the Circle of Excellence (complete with trip to Puerto Rico) during my days in corporate America.

Maybe I'll still get a book written but if I were a betting gal I'd say odds were not in my favor.

Obviously not everyone accomplishes something great in their lifetime.  There are people who live life to the fullest, and there are people who are content to just run on the hamster wheel of life.  I am the person who watches the hamsters running and wonders how they can stand it in there, running on that wheel day and night.  I am a very loyal person in my jobs and in my marriage - but I do like to shake things up a little bit.  I do enjoy a change of pace or scenery.  I don't want to go skydiving or anything - but every few years the urge strikes me to break out of mediocre.

In the past I have always been able to satisfy this urge with a big vacation.  But right now I'm not in a position to do that.  And not knowing what lies ahead - maybe I never will be again.

My mom lived her whole 75 years wanting to go to Greece, the country of her ancestors.  She finally got there when she was in her 70s.  And what did it do for her?  For her last five years she could say she did it.  But it didn't make her death any more or less peaceful.

Intellectually I think there is value in travel when you are young because it provides different perspectives and helps you become more well rounded.  But after a certain age (call me age-ist), it just seems frivolous - on an intellectual level.  And impractical on a health and mobility level.

In my mid-40s my morals, values and beliefs are pretty well formed.  I might expand on something by reading a book, but I don't need to go do mission work in Africa to expand my perception of poverty.  The only thing likely to become more rounded if I travel is my belly from eating too much.

But emotionally - that is where I'm stuck.  I wouldn't turn down an opportunity to finally visit Europe, but if I only had one trip left in my life it would be a hard choice between taking the kids to Disney and creating memories for them or satisfying my personal emotions and reconnecting with my friends and family in Brazil.

And then I think, to what end?  Will I take the memories with me when I go?

After reading "Knit Together" by Debbie Macomber I've come to the conclusion that it's such a fine line between working to accomplish our dreams while being content with where we are at.  Because no matter how succesful I might become, if I am constantly looking ahead to the next project and 
can't be content with the now, then achieving the dream means nothing.

Smoothie Shaking

I drink a lot of smoothies in the car.  My kids make fun of me because I wiggle the cup so that it doesn't settle.  Sometimes I have a vision that at the gathering after my funeral, one of my children will have a drink and wiggle the cup at the others and they will all laugh.  My guess is it will be the middle child - but it doesn't matter, as long as they remember me fondly.

I Could Be a Saint

In church one Sunday the Priest referenced a lady who had heard the voice of God while she was alive and post-humously (as is always the) case became a saint.  It occurred to me that perhaps one day I would be a candidate for sainthood.

So, according to dummies.com here are the steps:

First - it must be proven that I lived a virtuous life, had faith, and had support from God.  Additionally, some miracles as evidence that God worked through me.  So, what is virtuous?  I don't have any of the traditional vices - smoking, drinking, gambling, etc.  I have always been faithful to my husband.  But I have lost my temper from time to time.  I have been less than patient with my children and occasionally to a random stranger.  Perhaps I'm out of the running already - or maybe God understands that we are all human after all.  Obviously I have faith.  Support from God - also check!  Don't we all get this on a daily basis - whether we recognize it or not?  Miracles that God worked through me - nothing as big as water into wine, but there have been times when God has done some cool stuff with me as His hands and feet.

Next - I should be dead for at least five years and then my pastor should make a case.  So, yes, at some point, I will have been dead for at least five years.  But will my pastor raise my name up to archbishop?  I know my pastor recognizes me and probably could tell you where we sit at which mass and how often.  But does he even know my name?  Much less how God has been working through me?  Perhaps someone else will have to bring this up.  So then right away I would be a "Servant of God".

Then a group at the Vatican would determine if I had lived a life of "heroic virtue".  Heroic virtue doesn’t mean a person was perfect or sinless, but that she worked aggressively to improve herself spiritually and never gave up trying to be better and grow in holiness. 
Okay, I think I'm still in line.  "Aggressively" could be a little tricky.  I'm not aggressive like a rabid dog.  I'm more like the tortoise - slow and steady wins the race.  But I definitely have never given up trying to be better and grow in holiness.  Just like I've never truly given up on dieting and losing twenty pounds.  Sometimes I count calories and measure portions but mostly I just keep trying day after day.

Once I am "venerable" then I can become "blessed" if it is determined that I performed a miracle.  A miracle, by definition, is an act that only God can perform.  As far as I'm concerned, only God can predict the future.  One of my favorite Bible verses is in Job, "God speaks to us through dreams and visions in the night".  I considered it miraculous when God told me through a dream in the late 1990s that someone I loved in Brazil was leaving my life (my host-father died unexpectedly within the week).  I considered it miraculous when God told me through a dream in 2002 that my co-worker would have a serious shoulder injury (indeed it had occurred that evening but I, naturally, had no knowledge of it until arriving at work the following morning).   I considered it miraculous when God showed me a vision of my mother-in-law clothed in white satin and lying on a round bed with sheets of white satin a few hours before she was admitted to the hospital for a heart attack.  But can these miracles be confirmed since the dreams were only in my head and I didn't fully understand the message until after the event occurred.  Probably not a strong case for confirmation.  However, with this blog and my frequent pronouncement that God has told me something big, possibly my death, will occur on July 12, 2017, I would think that when that event occurs it can be confirmed that I had prior knowledge - directly from God.

After becoming "blessed" it takes one more miracle to become a Saint.  That may be trickier.  Although, one could argue that if one of the students I mentor graduates high school it would be nothing short of miraculous.  Or maybe I'll have a miraculous recovery from the cancer that I don't have yet.

The dummies page lists some other criteria including,

• Proof that no one has proclaimed or is already proclaiming and honoring the person as a saint before it’s been officially declared

thus the careful title of this post including "Could Be".

Finally, "Miracles need to be documented and authenticated, so eyewitnesses alone are considered insufficient. Medical, scientific, psychiatric, and theological experts are consulted, and evidence is given to them for their professional opinion. If a scientific, medical, or psychological explanation exists for what had only appeared to be a miracle, then it isn’t an authentic miracle. Only immediate, spontaneous, and inexplicable phenomena are up for consideration as authentic miracles."

So, some pretty tough criteria but - with God, anything is possible.  Not that it will matter to me - I'll already be dead.  

Knit Together by Debbie Macomber

I don't have a bucket list of activities - but I do have a bucket list of books - or call it a Booket List.
Thanks to audio and eBooks I'm able to read books a lot faster than I used to because I get them in all three formats.  One of the books on my list that I read recently was "Knit Together" by Debbie Macomber, an inspirational book about achieving our dreams based on the premise that God puts the dreams in our hearts and therefore it is not wrong to pursue them.

I really enjoyed the book and maybe especially the push it gave me to stop saying I can't write a book because it doesn't fit into my family's schedule.  In her book she quotes Oliver Wendell Holmes saying "most of us go to our graves with our music still inside us."  Debbie says, " We aren't taking anything away from our families when we pursue our dreams; in fact, I believe we're teaching our children some of the most valuable lessons of their lives." (loc. 869)

Another amazing thought she conveyed was this:
          The yoke God gives us is not heavy; it is custom-made for each of us - designed to never wear us out!  The burden that we carry when it comes to our purpose and the pattern God has for our lives is never too big - it's just the right size.  It's the other things we decide to do on our own that become bulky; they slow us down and leave heavy weights for us to half carry and sometimes half drag.
I've always heard that God does not give us more than we can handle, but it never occurred to me that I myself might pick up things that weren't meant for me.

Makes me want to be more intentional and more attuned to God's word before taking on a new task, habit, action, etc.  All while keeping in mind Macomber's suggestion that, "We must be ready to attempt something so great for God that unless He intervenes, we are bound to fail." (loc 766)

It's such a fine line though between working to accomplish our dreams while being content with where we are at.  Because no matter how successful I might become, if I am constantly looking ahead to the next project and can't be content with the now, then achieving the dream means nothing.

Maybe Cancer is Better

Given my recent ponderings on how frustrating it is to deal with a parent who is losing their cognitive abilities, maybe cancer IS better.  I've never known anyone who recovered from dementia but at least with cancer there is hope of overcoming it.  Seeing the physical changes cancer brings on in a parent may be sad or even weird but certainly not frustrating.  With dementia, sometimes the parent looks normal and might even sound normal for a moment, giving one a false sense of normalcy which just serves to be a let down all over again for the hopeful descendant.

Having a parent with dementia is a roller coaster of grief so for the children's sake perhaps cancer is better.

Perhaps even for the afflicted.  One never knows of how much an aging mind is aware.  Sometimes it seems like they have an idea that they are not making sense.  I can only imagine how scary that must be.  Imagine looking at a 9 year old boy and thinking it is your grandson "A".  (In reality grandson "A" is 24 years old.)  So you ask the friendly face in front of you, although you're not sure who she is, how "A" is getting home.  And she says it is not "A" but "B" and "B" is her child but she is not your daughter so who are these people.  And this is all happening in your home!  People you can't place telling you what you know to be true is not true.  It must feel like an episode of the Twilight Zone.

Maybe you feel afraid so you don't say anything and just try and get through as if you were in a hostage situation and you're just going to keep a low profile until they leave.  Or maybe you feel confused and just don't know what to think but you don't know the people in your living room so your instinct tells you not to confide your confusion to them.  Or maybe you realize your mistake and feel embarrassed.  Your wounded pride causes you to lash out and say something like, "I know who that is, I know my own grandson" but now you know the air in the room is a lot heavier and people, (people that you still can't place) are now exchanging knowing looks with each other which makes you more confused and embarrassed and angry.

I've always thought of myself as fairly intelligent and enjoyed intellectual pursuits, so I imagine I would not enjoy losing my mind (who would, really).  I like to plan and organize - not knowing who people were or what year it was would be a big hindrance to that.  If I had cancer at least I could still read and have intelligent conversation and plan menus for family gatherings.  I think I'm starting to fear dementia more than cancer.

Aging for the New Age

(Additional thoughts on previous "Aging" post)

I've heard that some parents try to hide their aging mishaps from their adult children / caregivers.
Such as hiding a fender bender so nobody knows they are incapable of driving anymore.  A lot of it seems rooted in pride.

This makes me ponder that perhaps my grandchildren will have an easier time with this process.  When they are caring for their aging parents (my children) - their parents will be of the generation that grew up posting everything on social media.  I think because of such conditioning - the pride factor will be much less to deal with.

Additionally, they will not have to ask their mom what she ate for breakfast - there will be a picture of it on Instagram.  Their father will not hide the fender bender - he'll post about it on Facebook.

(Of course, 50 years from now Instagram and Facebook will be obsolete.  But you get the point - something will take its place, perhaps even automatic uploads.)

Aging

It occurs to me that there may be a saving grace to dying young.  As much as I think that for my children's sake I do not want to leave this world on July 12, 2017, at the age of 47 1/2 - at least it would spare them the frustration of seeing me grow old.  

It was very frustrating to deal with my mother in her final years.   Even though a part of me feels like a horrible daughter for saying that - it is true.  I've observed similar sentiments in others caring for their aging parents.  It is such a fine line between the day when they are still able to drive and might willingly surrender their keys anyway, for the good of humanity, and the day when they are a threat to public safety but too proud or foggy headed to surrender their keys.

How many conversations go something like this:

ADULT CHILD:  Mom, did you remember to take your medicine this morning?

MOM:  Why do you keep asking me that?  I know I need to take my medicine.  I won't forget.

ADULT CHILD:  What did you have for breakfast this morning?

MOM:  I don't know - did I eat breakfast?  I don't remember.

And they fail to see the connection that they just said they won't forget their medicine but they can't even remember if they ate a few hours ago.

I know there is a medical / psychological basis for all of it - but that doesn't make it any less frustrating.  I would very much like to save my children from that frustration.  Hopefully I'll live well past 7/12/17 and by then there will be a breakthrough so that the senior fogginess is no longer a problem.

Trapped Inside this Mind

When I became a stay-at-home mom I had this idea that I was going to be more spontaneous and just go with the flow of life.  Truth is - I'm a planner.  So far I have not been successful in planning to be spontaneous.

We ere at the park today - 68 degrees, overcast, mid-March.  There's a splash pad at the park (where the water comes up out of the concrete like a built in sprinkler to run through).  Several children get completely soaked.  I made it clear to my kid that he is not to get wet.  The kids he was playing with got wet and he had to sit on the sideline.

As I watch him and try not to feel guilty or let my mommy-heart break for him, I wonder why the other parents think this is a good idea - or did the kids not ask.  I prepare myself for the possibility that my kid may get wet and try to plan a reaction that is not over-the-top furious.  At the same time I'm thinking we have no towel, and how much dirt and mulch would his wet clothes attract, and how much mess would it make in the car on the way home, and what about those old wives tales that a kid could catch their death getting wet in the cool air.

Sometimes I want to let go of the what-ifs, especially given the inspiration for this blog - life is short, my time is limited.  At the same time I think, life is too short for me to spend it cleaning up extra messes.

The Last Man on Earth

There's a new television show about the last man on earth.  I thought it was a goofy show.  Even after he met the last woman on earth - I don't see how there is going to be enough material to sustain the show.  But for me it was a refreshing contemplation.

For over a year now I have been contemplating what I want to accomplish before my life comes to an end so to see it in the reverse was refreshing.

In the show the guy has the run of the whole earth.  He can live in any house he chooses.  Take any food from the grocery store.  Drive any car.  He doesn't have to go to work or take care of anything.  There are some problems - no running water and no trash service.

What would I do if I had NOTHING to do and endless amounts of time to do it in?

• Read!  That would be first on my list.  I would spend a lot of time reading all the books that I want to read but will never find the time to read.
• Exercise - well, it was a thought.  I actually do want to exercise daily for better health but I rarely get the time.  If I was the last person on earth I'd have the time to exercise.  However, I probably wouldn't care about longevity.  If every family member I loved were already dead, I wouldn't feel compelled to take good care of myself in order to extend my life for their sake.
• Forget exercise - I would experiment with new recipes and enjoy food.  Dessert every day!  Even though I know dessert makes me sluggish and puts on the pounds - so what...I could sleep off the sluggishness and if I was overweight there would be nobody to be self conscious in front of.  Likewise, if bad eating habits led to an early death - so what...I could join all my loved ones.
• Finish projects - again, it's a thought.  I could finally clean out the clutter and get it all listed on eBay - except there would be nobody to buy it.  I could finally finish my book - except there would be nobody to read it.  I could finally work on the family scrapbooks - except I'd be the only one to ever see them.  The album still might be comforting - but otherwise, how frustrating that all the things I could finally get done wouldn't be worth doing anymore.

So - we're back to Read and Eat.

What would you do?

Mom, can you make me a hat?

On a Saturday morning I was waking up with my coffee and my son asked if I would play a game with him.  Having nothing on the schedule for that day I told him we'd play later.  Then I checked my email and found out that on Monday my son's 3rd grade class would celebrate Dr. Seuss' birthday by having Silly Hat day.  I said to my son, "Great, you can just wear one of Dad's welding caps like you did last time it was Silly Hat day."  He looked at me and, with a voice as small as Cindy Lou Who's said, "Can you make me a Cat in the Hat hat."  Well, how could I say no to that.

I googled and thought, decided to knit, then to not.
I wound up making a hat out of felt and it turned out super awesome!

This is the kind of thing, as a Mom, I want to be remembered for.

When I was in 6th grade we moved from San Antonio to a small town in West Texas.
We only lived there for one year and I didn't have a lot of friends that year.
As an adult, I had a conversation with my Mom and she casually mentioned something about when she had been my Girl Scout leader.  I had no memory of her being my leader.  She said it had been my 6th grade year.  I was a leader for my daughters troop for two years and I know it's a lot of work.  I felt horrible that I didn't remember my mom being my leader.  (I'm actually thinking maybe I was somehow a troop of one that year and she just managed my independent study or something.)  

Years from now, when I'm gone, I want my son to remember the day I made him a hat.  I want him to have lots of memories like that and to know, through those memories, that he was loved.  Even though it was also the day I said I'd play a game with him and never did.  At bedtime I apologized that we never got to play a game but pointed out that he had an awesome hat - and he agreed with that.

Three Kinds of People

There are three kinds of people: those who make things happen, those who watch things happen, and those who wonder what the heck happened!

I read this in Debbie Macomber's "Knit Together" but I'm not sure if it is her original idea or she got it from Zig Ziglar.

Holy crap!  What kind am I?

I want to be a maker but I think realistically I'm a watcher.  And a lot of times I find myself watching and then saying "what the heck happened"!

The bigger question is - is it too late to change?  Especially if my time is running out.

Better Get Started

My middle child is a musician.  This weekend he released a new single and I am so excited for him because I think it's the best song he's ever made and I could totally imagine hearing it on the radio right in between Nick Jonas and Taylor Swift.  Want to hear for yourself - listen to So Glad It's You .

So I was imagining the other day that when he becomes really famous and writes a memoir I can be his editor.  Or maybe I'll just write his biography.  Then I started thinking about the 7/12/17 date that looms ahead of me.  I don't know if I can do both things.  Even if I started now, the book would only be about the first portion of his life.  I won't know what comes after if I expire in 2+ years.  Heck, I'll be lucky to get my own first novel completed by then.

I heard Joel Osteen the other day on the radio saying something along the lines of not giving up too early.  To let God know that you're not done working down here so that he will give you health and longevity until you are in your 90s, then you can be done.  An interesting concept and certainly worth a try - but I'm not sure it works that way.

I guess we'll find out:  Lord, give me lots of time - so I can work on Jacob Andrew's biography or memoir when he's in his 50s and I'm in my 70s.  And I'll write lots of other things for you too, Lord.  And do other work too.

Scott Stapp

Scott Stapp - lead singer for the band Creed, popular in the late 90s and early 2000s.  Creed was a hard rock band who, many thought, had a Christian slant to their lyrics and evangelized through their music to unsuspecting listeners.  Interviews I read during those years indicated that Stapp was the son of a preacher, raised in a Christian home and attending church regularly, then went through a time of rebellion and finally came back around to his roots.

My first husband was a hard-rocker at heart and enjoyed Creed music, especially "Higher".  It seems like he had barely discovered the song before he took his own life.  The song talks about streets of gold where blind men see - obviously metaphors for Heaven.

I believe Creed's music was good on its own.  But because we had the additional emotional attachment of a connection to their father, my older children and I feel a special affinity for the band.  We even learned that the band had written "What's This Life For?" in tribute to a friend they had lost to suicide.

In the last several years there have been reports that Stapp has fallen back into drugs.  Then, about six weeks ago, Stapp made allegations that "they" were after him and the government had taken all his money.   It was reported that his wife left him and he was living out of his car or in a hotel.  Frankly, it was somewhat disappointing but also very sad.  He's "six feet from the edge" and "down to one last breath".

My daughter, the psychology student, texted me one day about how sad she felt after hearing tapes of Stapp rambling on in obvious paranoia, probably a side effect of all his former drug use.  A few days later I heard "My Sacrifice" on the radio and did feel a tear or two well up in my eye.

And then I had an epiphany!  I don't have to just be sad for him and watch him suffer from afar.  Sure he's a celebrity but he's also someone's child.  And what would I do if my child were in such a situation?  I would ask all my friends to pray.  It seems far-fetched to pray for a celebrity but they are human too.  "Can you help me out, can you lend a hand?"

Stapp once sang, "What if I died?  What did I give?  I hope it was an answer, so you might live."  Now he's gone the Wrong Way.  I hope you will join me in praying for Scott Stapp and those who love him and are in positions to guide him through this dark time in his life.  "Cause we all live under the reign of one King"

I Figured it Out

I have never been very "in-tune" with my body.  I know people that seem to be able to track their food from the moment it enters their mouth to the moment it exits and everywhere in between.  I definitely cannot feel my digestion happening.  I am more often surprised by things my body does which seem to me to be without warning (noises and such).

Since my diagnosis with Gilbert's Syndrome back in September, I've been doing some reading on Gilbert's Syndrome (gilbertssyndrome.com and other places) and I am excited that what I am reading confirms what I had already figured out.  I've been saying for several years that my body doesn't process toxins well.  When I get on a health-kick and drink a lot of water, my skin gets worse.  I have felt for a long time that my body passes toxins out through my skin.   ( I have mentioned this to a couple of dermatologists who made me feel silly for even thinking it.)  For a while I took "alli" for weight loss.  The idea is that it binds on to the fat and passes it out through your excretory system.  I was in a study group and participated in an online support group.  Many people reported unpleasant experiences in the bathroom.  Not me - I just had horrible acne breakouts.

So now that I've been reading about my new friend Gilbert I've learned that it's not just bilirubin but in general my body (liver) only processes toxins at a level 25% - 30% of people without this syndrome.  So as much as 70% of the toxins I internalize through normal life are still hanging around inside me looking for a way out.  Other sites say put the numbers conversely that my body processes 30% less than others.  So - I figure, split the difference and say I only process half of the toxins that people without this syndrome do.

Because I had this toxin theory I started analyzing my diet last summer and made some significant changes so that I can consume less toxins.  I focused on pH because it kept popping up in conversations with people.  Turns out the changes I made are right in line with what is recommended and what others with Gilbert's are finding effective.

I am just so impressed with myself that I listened to my body and figured this out on my own.

I'm a Wimp

I've said before that I'd rather lose a limb or a sense than have cancer.  Currently I'm recovering from a frozen shoulder.  It started during the night on a Wednesday night and I didn't get to the doctor to get a Cortisone shot until Monday afternoon.  Through several long, painful nights I have learned - I am not good with pain.

Maybe nobody is - it is PAIN after all.  Certainly cancer has its painful moments so I'm not rethinking my wish list.  Just seeing it in a new light.  Losing a limb is something that, eventually, I'd adapt to - but the process would definitely be painful.

Situations such as temporary injuries always provide enlightenment.  You take for granted simple things like putting on shoes or brushing teeth or combing hair or steering the car and holding a drink.

I said a lot of prayers during those most painful nights - which also made me reflective.
I begged, I bargained, I questioned.
God did provide momentary relief - but it didn't last long.
Which led me to question why I was suffering through this - I've already had this experience with the other shoulder seven years ago and I don't think I learned anything different.
But apparently God places as little importance on daily exercise as I do.  Because I offered to exercise daily if He would only end the pain.

That's going to be an interesting conversation next time my doctor asks me how often I am exercising!

A Fresh Start

I think it is human nature to see the January 1st as a time for a fresh start.  That's why all the diet products and exercise equipment get on sale and promoted at that time of year.  The whole New Year's Resolution - I'm gonna loose weight thing.

It occurs to me that this is another fantastic benefit of working for a school district.

Because, let's face it, sometimes those fresh starts don't take.  The weight doesn't come off or the bad habits continue.  So, for those of us in the school district world, there could be a fresh start in June, or in August as well.

Three chances in 12 months to make those positive lifestyle changes - awesome!

Or, sometimes you think 2014 was a hard year; so-and-so died, the dog ran away, the house burned down, my best friend had cancer - whew, glad all that is behind us and we can start 2015 fresh.  But then your car gets stolen and your parent has a stroke and you say, "okay, maybe this is a tough school year but there's only a few more months until summer break".

Reflections

In December of 2012, my second year working for a school district, I decided to have a semi-elective surgery over the Christmas break.  It was a standard procedure and two weeks should have been plenty of recovery time to return to a desk job.  This was not a life-or-death procedure, but it wasn't a nose job either.  I had a condition that would cause me pain and discomfort one or two days a month.  On those days my lifestyle was affected - I didn't like to leave the house on those days.  At the time my youngest was 7 and I wanted to be free to be fully his mother and go anywhere anytime.

So I took two extra days off from work, checked into the hospital on a Thursday morning and expected to be released Thursday night.  My surgery started late but when the doctor came to visit me beforehand he said I'd be released on Friday.  "Friday!" I said.  Now-a-days hospitals are always trying to rush the patients out the door so I was surprised that I was staying overnight.

During the night the nurse kept changing my dressing and tried not to let on that she was concerned about the frequency that she was changing it.  My husband called me in the morning and it was all I could do to have a three-minute conversation with him.  I hung up the phone exhausted and worn out.  Then my doctor's colleague came to see me.  (Turns out my doctor had gone on vacation!)  While she examined me she told me to cough.  That wound up loosening a blood clot and before I knew it I was going back for a second surgery - this time an emergency.  Apparently there was a problem with some internal stitches.

I stayed in the hospital for two more days.  I finally made it home Sunday night - and here I thought I'd have been able to attend church Sunday morning.  One of the ladies in my book club brought me Communion and I felt really bad for being so selfish as to have a surgery to correct an inconvenience so close to the holidays.  I had lost so much blood - something ridiculous like 60% of the blood in my body.  I was much closer to death than I like to recognize and certainly more than the doctors want to admit.  If I had died my children would have forever remembered the anniversary of my death just a few days before Christmas - what terrible timing (not that there is ever a good time).

A lot of people think that near-death experiences change their outlook on life - and maybe it does, for a while.  For me I was a bit more humble for a while.  But the only lasting effects were a vow to never have another surgery unless it is required to keep on living.  And, if I ever did have the luxury to schedule a life-saving surgery, I would not do it near the holidays.  I would also ensure that the doctor was not going on vacation the next day.  Part of me wonders if he was in a hurry to catch a plane - since we had already started late.  Maybe if he hadn't been in a hurry he wouldn't have missed a stitch.

I did a lot of laying around on the sofa at the end of 2012.  On New Year's Eve I drug myself to the house of some friends.  It was just a couple of families with children the same age getting together for a backyard fireworks show.  I laid on the chaise lounge and watched the spectacular.   I found myself at the same house on New Year's Eve 2014 and, as I did at other times during the Christmas season 2013 and 2014, I reflected on how near death I had come and how nice it was to be alive.  I suspect I will have the same recollections at the end of 2015 and 2016.  After that...God only knows.