Thirteen Years!

Happy Anniversary to some of our favorite people, CB and JB! When they were just children, yet in college and oh-so-young, they met for the second time (first time as high school students at Ceta Canyon Camp) at the Wesley Foundation at Texas Tech U. CB called home that semester and something in her voice when she said his name alerted me to the seriousness of the relationship. In November of their junior year they were engaged. We planned, we discussed, we cried, we laughed, we rolled yards and yards of tulle, and we found the perfect little sister seamstresses to sew the wedding gown. Really. They are like the Mexican version of the three fairies in Sleeping Beauty. They fuss over the bride and her Mom and her sisters and tell you about their sisterly relationships and how they made their parents a little crazy growing up. All while they are measuring and shaping and drawing and fussing. And then, there is a perfectly tailored wedding dress that looks exactly like the one in the magazine by a designer you could never have afforded. They were amazing! And made CB's wedding dress dreams come true, with dyed to order pink silk over white silk dupioni and the tiniest little spaghetti straps you have ever seen. Gorgeous!

There were bridesmaids and flower girls--sisters and friends and cousins in white and ivory with touches of pink. Of course the flowers were pink. The music was beautiful, complete with Boo playing while a dear friend sang "How Beautiful", plus there was an original song, written just for them. There was a buffet of homemade food spilling out of baskets and bowls--fresh fruit cut by the hands of many, many friends and Sunday School members; cheeses and meats and homemade rolls, pat`e, sparkling white grape punch, and fabulous cake in two flavors. The dance, DJ, and tiny white lights were all perfect. The weather was perfect. The parents and sisters were tired. Oh so tired after cleaning it all up so the church would be ready the next morning. And then part of the wedding party had no place to stay for the night and no money and were not yet married to one another, so they came home with us and moved in upstairs. We stayed awake for hours visiting with them and praying that JB's new tires were more than adequate to get them to New Orleans.

It is nearly unbelievable that thirteen years have passed since that glorious, beautiful wedding. Tucked inside all the memories like a gem is the indelible movie in my brain of the two of them praying for one another while communion was served. May you always be in love with Jesus and with one another and love to talk to Him together. We love you!

Memorial Day

One year ago on Memorial Day we did not know that we had only 19 days left with Dubbie in his "Earth suit".  For his memorial service Muffin and Kaki spent hours preparing the memory slide show you see to the right side of this post. Over the past two months Muffin and I gathered many of those photos into a book. My new Macbook and it's software successfully restored old photos and created lovely pages of eighty eight years of memories, overlaid like multicolored leaves fallen from trees shading a house, the House of Allen. We added the text of Psalm 91, a page from his favorite hymnal, and a few words of blessing and dedication, sending it off for printing and publication. To say I was pleased with the final product is an understatement. I just wept with joy, and some sadness too when the Dubbie book arrived.

Today we asked Nannie to come to our house to view new blog posts and photos of the Cheese folks and Rowdy family, since she has no internet connection. She insisted on buying lunch from Taco Bueno and enjoyed that and her viewing time.  Then we gave her THE book.  It was totally precious, just watching her turn the pages and see the photos, reading the verses of the Psalm as she first turned forward, then backward through the gallery.  

Muffin and I also took Nannie to Dubbie's gravesite and placed a flag on the veteran's marker. He deserved the honor. There were hundreds of small flags flying out there today. Afterward, we drove to the small town cemetery where Nannie's relatives are buried. Flags were already in place and fresh flowers were lovingly placed by a cousin last week. Nannie told a few stories about those resting in the ground. My Aunt and Uncle lie on the north side, with a barbed wire and bandana wreath and a spur. Next to them are Nannie's grandparents who died in 1910 and 1923. He was the original "W.C." in the family, and she was the small, ornery lady who's rocking chair I own. It is said that she thought "damnyankees" was one word. On the south side of the plot my grandparents rest side by side; Buck and Drucie. Muffin cleaned back the overgrown grass from the marble markers reading "Mother" and "Dad" from the foot of their joint graves. 

On the way back it began to rain quite hard and the fabulous smell of the Holy Spirit was in the air. It's good to remember on Memorial Day. Not just history, but that He makes all things new.

Special People

Was it three years ago? It seems like yesterday, and it also seems like we've known you forever, that you have always been part of our lives. Is it almost four years and also one year in July? Kindergarten is closer than ever, and I want to run away from it, just as I did when it sneaked up on your Mommies.  Your baby softness was the best; I could have just rubbed my face over your chubby cheeks and fuzzy little heads all day and all night. I loved watching you just lie in the floor, in your swings, or cribs or car seats, sleeping so peacefully with those pouty little lips twitching and pretend nursing in your sleep. You were the most beautiful babies born on the earth since your Mommies were babies. And you have forever changed our entire family with your uniqueness and charm. Every morning and every night I thank God again for you, and you, and you and you.  I am so blessed to be your Marmee. 

It's a Beautiful Day

Jbear and Gracie are here with us and their Mommy, Boo, while their Daddy travels around TX for his work. We are extremely grateful that he left them in our care for a few days.  So much fun for us and more fun for Boo than staying in AZ with them alone. 

Today the wind blew terribly. Then it turned dark and began to thunder. Finally some beautiful rain fell. We need lots more, but are thankful for that much. Then the sun came out and it was a clear, cool, beautiful day. Jbear pronounced it to be such a day. As he helped Grandpa bake an apple pie he twice announced, "Grandpa, it's a beautiful day." I think that may have been a slight hint to play in the sandbox, but he was content to stick with the baking. 

It was also a beautiful day for watching Gracie learn new motor skills and explore her surroundings--stairs, brick hearth, chair rungs, discarded shoes, the barber chair that was Dubbie's.  A perfectly beautiful day for smocking an Easter dress. Lovely day for visiting with Nannie. Great day for Scooter to pack his doggie bag and ride in the car with Nannie to her house. Perfect day for a nap for Grandpa, who has a bit of a sore throat. Fabulous day for re-formatting some documents for my studio. Beautiful day for cooking King Ranch Chicken and eating it by a fire after a good workout at the gym. 

And it was the perfect day for Nannie's best friend since high school, Maxine Marie, to go be with Jesus after many months of battling cancer.  Thanks for sharing your middle name with me. We will all see you soon.

Happy Birthday, Jesus

Gracie Flower

Jbear

The Rowdy Girls

Historians tell us that Jesus was likely born in the Spring--March or April. He came to earth as a fulfillment of prophecy: For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given. And His name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." What a lengthy and lofty name for a baby!

When our first baby was expected, we tossed around names that reflected our family, our deep belief that our children were gifts from God, and a name that would be compatible with a nice Scottish surname. At about my sixth month of pregnancy we visited our hometowns and met with a group who prayed for me and prophesied that this baby would be God's anointed child. We knew immediately that this was a girl (no sonograms in 1975 unless extreme dangerous circumstances warranted the order) and her name would be the English/Scottish equivalent of House of the Anointed One.

Mary was told by the angel to name her child "Jesus", because He would save His people. "Saviour" is a lofty and mighty name for a tiny baby. But, just as I saw the future of my babies and named them more for their future than for their baby years, Mary was obedient to the Word of God and to the ancient prophecies.

Jesus. What a lovely name. As I rocked my firstborn child I often whispered and sang His name to her, as I did to my three daughters who were born after her. My first Christmas as a new Mommy, my darling, beautiful, first born child had an ear infection, which broke my heart and made me cry more than she did. I would rock her and sing to her for hours on end. One afternoon sitting in the nursery rocking, crying and singing, the Holy Spirit whispered to me. "This is how I humbled myself. This is how difficult it is to be a baby. This is how I became dependent on a mother of my own. I showed you how much I love you just by becoming a baby." Imagine! The Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace, the Saviour, the Counselor of all mankind gave up His right to communicate, gave up His majesty and birthright as God's Son to become dependent on one like me--a woman.

Every Christmas since then the scriptures and songs have had new and deeper meaning for me. "What can I give Him? Give Him my heart." "O come let us adore Him." "O come, O come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel." "Hark, the herald angels sing glory to the newborn King." "Mary had a baby, yes Lord. What did she name him? Named him Jesus. Laid him in a manger." "Some children see him lily white the baby Jesus born this night. Some children see him lily white with tresses long and fair. Oh lay aside each earthly thing and with thy heart as offering, come worship now the infant king, 'tis love that's born tonight." "Mary did you know that when you kissed your little baby, you kissed the face of God?"

Indeed, "to worship" has many meanings, but one of them is "to kiss". Mary was the first to worship Jesus, as she kissed her little baby. As I thought about our two precious grandchildren who were far away today, and as I kissed the two who were with us, I thought "Happy Birthday, Jesus." May You feel kissed today by all who worship You.

They're Here!

Am I in heaven, or what? Three of the daughters, one of the sons, and ALL of the GRANDS are at my house. And Muffin is taking a day off to catch up from the days (and nights) we stayed awake with Nannie in the hospital. Yea!

So I've been having a nice conversation with Gracie and teaching her how to do a Beauty Queen wave, because she is definitely destined to be a BQ. We had some time with the "taggie" ball, kicking and listening to the chime inside it. She has a great two month old giggle and chatter.

Spent some quality time giving Big Boy Jonah a bath and singing "Five Little Ducks" while he splashed and I poured water on him. He took a walk to the lake with his Daddy, played in the sand box with Grandpa--who is a really fun guy, and played with Aunt Kaki. Then he danced with Roo, even though she negotiated to quit--"Bye bye" "Night Night, Jonah". Em was loving "Baby Signing Times", which I recorded specially for her, and she let me hold her and read part of her ABC book. Speaking of ABC's, Roo spelled "Happy", sang the Sesame Street "A, OK" song, while Em signs parts of it. All three of them love to sing! Jonah sings all his pre-school songs and Em and Roo fill in the blanks.

It makes my music-teacher-heart very happy.

Seeing and Running—Reflections on a two year journey

For most of the last two years I left town only to see my children and grandchildren, and even then, waited until it was almost to the point of necessity—a birth, celebration, graduation, babysitting opportunity or several events combined. They were precious years in the life of our family, the final two years of my Daddy’s well-lived life.

On March 3, 2006 I had a call from pregnant CB that she would be seeing a perinatologist the afternoon of March 9 because Roo was not growing as she should be. The plan was for Kak to fly home for Spring break (she was still in DC in college) on March 10, so the timing was perfect. Except that 45 minutes before I left town on March 9 Nannie called that she was on the way to the ER behind Dubbie, who had fallen down three steps and broken his hip and was sedated, lying on a board in an ambulance. A couple of hours later as I walked out of the ER into the parking lot where I could get better cell reception and speak privately, I got a “call” from Father God, who told me this would be the beginning of the ending. I experienced just about every emotion know to human flesh—fear, shock, despair, grief, longing, joy, sadness, love, hate, anger, loneliness, fatigue, and most of all the questioning.

Two weeks later Daddy was in a rehab wing, doing very well physically. Our relatively small family (four people in town including Kak) was exhausted, having sat with him day and night because of hospital psychosis which caused him to have hallucinations beginning at sundown every evening. His hip was repaired with a plate and screw, his balance was relatively good considering bad knees caused him to fall in the first place, and getting off all pain medication helped considerably with the psychosis. But we all knew that he just wasn’t the same as before. Statistics show that most elderly people do not survive complications of a broken hip. In fact most die within two years following a broken hip.

Daddy left the rehab wing with a walker and home healthcare and Nannie was under a tremendous weight of responsibility. As the only child, I was also feeling the squeeze. I pressed on toward the end of the semester thinking I could handle things so much better after my teaching schedule was relieved, the twins were born in late May or early June, and Daddy was more fully recovered. At that time Kak was back in DC at school, Muffin was working his usually 40 hours in 4 days so he could drive home for weekends on Thursday evening through Monday morning.

The next call from CB was in late March. Baby A was moving well, and growing, but way behind Baby B, Emme. Extreme measures were discussed. Things no parent should have to hear, and decisions no one should be presented. The choice was made to begin a series of cortisone injections, forcing Roo to grow rapidly and expand her lung capacity. CB could go into labor at any minute. The swelling she experienced was unmerciful, yet she taught school. A date was agreed upon, April 27, 2006, for a C section. I ran errands for my parents and did what I could do to help, taught my students, rearranged my recital to be in May from April 29 (scheduled early so I could be available for a May birth), and I prayed for excellent health and amazing strength for Miss Roo and Miss ME-Emme.

Muffin took a couple of days off, we booked a hotel near the hospital down south, and early on April 27 we were present for the birthing—a first for us. (Jbear was almost a year old, but we were in TX and he was born early in AZ. We saw him when he was one week old.) First premature births, first granddaughters, first twins, first babies under 7 pounds ( 2 lb. 8 oz and 3 lb. 5 oz.) first neonatal experience, first NICU vigil, first time to do all of this with my parents’ in such a fragile state. Every week from April 27 through August I was either on the road back and forth, or staying over and meeting Muffin down south, or going back and forth for someone’s doctor appointments, either pediatric or geriatric. Kak moved home for the summer and helped tremendously or none of that would have been humanly possible. Many all night vigils involving baby swings, ipod headphones, Boppy pillows, and Diet Coke ensued. At the end of August when Kak returned to school I rewarded myself with Lasik surgery for surviving. Then Muffin and I flew to Siesta Key for a few days.

The following months are a blur of teaching, travel to hospital/home/play weddings/hospital,etc, and Daddy's deteriorating health. The twins had an awesome birthday party at our house, I ended the year of teaching with a great recital, the symphony season was awesome, Joy and Mike’s wedding was beautiful and celebratory, but Daddy continued to have balance problems and forgot to use his walker to aid him. Nannie insisted that he showed signs of dementia, and although we could tell that he forgot some things, there was no consistent evidence. On June 13 I was teaching some students and received a call from Nannie that she had Dubbie at the doctor and shingles was the diagnosis. Only one day earlier the three of us visited the attorney who updated all legal documents and suggested some changes that would facilitate matters in the event of a medical crisis or death of one of my parents. Four days later, Father’s Day, we were back at the hospital with psychosis and broken bones. The shingles led to complications with the blood sugar, which fluctuated from 40-300 several times in 24 hours and he began to fall in disorientation. He fell five times in two days and sustained a broken pelvis. We would later find that he had several strokes as well. On June 20 he was moved into the nursing home and the roller coaster ride began, ending June 13, 2008.

Two years ago in August I had Lasik, which resulted in 20/15 vision. I can see much more clearly now. God has opened my eyes to His Kingdom in many ways. I see that over the past two years I traveled on the thin edge of the kingdom of this earth and the kingdom of heaven. Many days and nights in hospital rooms and cars and nursing homes and living rooms, late at night or very early in the morning I would sense that the kingdom of heaven had come to earth. Or that they were the same. Or that I, not others, had crossed over from one to another. I could hear the music, and it is beautiful in both places, but in the kingdom of heaven it always glorifies God and celebrates Him. Those kingdoms house a great cloud of witnesses!

Hebrews 12:1

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

On earth, as it is in heaven

Observing as a grandparent is so much more comfortable than as a parent. It is with great joy that I write that statement. Muffin and I are here to observe, enjoy, assist, and photograph. Today we observed the amazing alertness of Baby Gracie, the difficulty of being the three year old brother, the relatively new assistance of a lactation consultant, and relived the emotions of being the parents of two small children living in suburban America.

When our children were little our pre-natal care was better than that of our Mother’s, but not as good as that of our daughters. Our babies were not born trying to hold up their heads or turn over in their cribs. And speaking of cribs, they are part of the total design for the nursery, with monitors attached and beautifully and artfully designed as part of the interior of the house. Expecting our first baby and living 1500 miles from our parents, along with being on a very tight budget, we and our friends went dumpster diving for throw-aways and carpet scraps. The cast off pieces became lamps and chairs that were re-painted within a theme like “bunny rabbits”, or “clowns”, or something really clever that could be cut with a sharp pair of scissors or painted as a copy from a magazine. You know, something really original like flowers for girls and cars for boys. The carpet scraps were glued to a carpet pad the size of the floor where the new baby would sleep at night. It was colorful, and patchwork, but not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination. I sewed and owned a good machine, which saved bundles of money and made some honest to goodness interior design possible. I bought miles of green gingham checks, threading yards of elastic through about 3 rows of casing to make a bassinette skirt/cover/pads/pillows, and comforter. Green was the color of choice since it suited male/female décor and sonograms were only for those who had serious medical conditions which required immediate information. Hence, hardly anyone knew the sex of the baby in advance of birth. Total cost of all that green was about $10.00. Add one can of carpet glue to that bill.

When our second baby was expected, we saved the gingham outfit and built on a theme. This time it was an entire room, since we had moved from Capehart housing on an Air Force base to a small town. We painted one wall bright green and two white with two colors of green grass growing up from the patchwork scrappy carpet. The third wall, the long one opposite the baby crib and the baby’s closet, was a Richard Scarry fantasyland. It had all sorts of creatures from his book, The Best Richard Scarry Storybook Ever. Muffin painted each and every one of them, complete with a cricket fiddling under a mushroom. Above the grass and the creatures were the words “All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small. All things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all.” I sewed curtains for the small window in an animal print—jungle animals hiding in green grass. Total cost was about $15.00 for two large cans of paint and some jungle fabric. It was about two months later before we moved Boo into the room because she stayed in our room in the green gingham bassinette. The bassinette was the same one I slept in as an infant.

Very, and I mean VERY, soon after that, I learned that Joy was on the way. I had the urge to re-do everything. I would have knocked holes in the kitchen to make a new back door if I’d had time to stop breastfeeding and sewing real clothes for two little girls. My “lactation consultant” was my grandmother. Virtually everything she told me I tried. If that didn’t work, I read my La Leche League books and called my friends. Mostly, I just didn’t do anything else except breastfeed, eat, sleep when I could, and play the violin enough to remember how to do it. We kept the jungle/Scarry room for Joy.

Four years later when I learned I was pregnant with Kak, I was sick of the green stuff and found some fabric with a gingham patchwork theme that also had some clouds on blue background. I went crazy. Had Muffin paint the walls all over again—white and blue with white clouds. I sewed new bumper pads, curtains, comforters, pillows, chair covers, and then made three primary colored hot air balloons from fabric which I then had monogrammed with “Jesus Loves Me”. Because the patchwork print had hot air balloons flying among the clouds. Joy didn’t move into that room for many months, because we didn’t have the heart to move Boo out at such a tender age. No monitors, no devices, just rocking chairs planted in their rooms with lots of books to read and places to cuddle. It wasn’t nearly as sophisticated or safety oriented as Gracie’s beautiful room, or as the Rowdy Girls room either. I think all of that decoration must have cost about $25.00 since I waited forever for the fabric store to have a sale on the printed fabric and used scraps for trims.

Today I looked at Gracie’s beautiful outfits, her ingenious baby swing, her gorgeous pink ladybug and butterfly room and remembered lots of things. I remembered how much I wanted to show love to and for my children, both by teaching them and by giving them “things”. Later in the day Jbear was struggling with obedience and good manners and having his Daddy return to work and his Mommy tired and his grandparents whom he rarely sees practically living with him all day. He was so thrilled to see us this morning, but by the end of the day was just tired and almost pushing everyone away. And I realized that we are so like that with our Father. He gives us beautiful gifts every day and listens to us get excited about some of them, ignore some of them, and whine about way too many of them. We ask Him for gifts and he gives them and then we get tired of them and ask for more. Our gratitude is buried beneath our constant list of “I wants”. How He must long to just hold our faces in His hands, turn our eyes toward Him and say, “Just use your good manners. Show some people on earth, what it is like in heaven and just praise Me for what I have already done for you.”

No Worries, Be Happy

So the Chicken Salad part of me wants to be with Gracie and family and here with The Nannie of the Clan, all at the same time. But the bread part on the bottom of the sandwich is greatly anticipating the next road trip with Muffin, listening to podcasts and recorded books, doing some needlework while he drives, and kicking back with very few responsibilities. And the bread part on the top of the sandwich is reveling in the phone call from Baby Daughter this evening, discussing creative activities with children (She has two Nanny jobs this summer), talking about her afternoons with the Rowdy Girls, discussing competition in various artistic fields . That piece of bread loved the time alone in the house today, establishing an online group for the violin studio. Same slice enjoyed the afternoon of relative inactivity—groceries, PO, bank, clothing donations, and writing memorial acknowledgments.

Oh, no. The Chicken Salad/Pimento Cheese is squeezing out and begging for attention. Visit me! Call me! Give me air time! Listen to my heart while my mouth talks!

Bottom line on the menu-no, make that the top line on the menu-is that whenever I think about Myself and what worries Me, or when I consider all that vies for My attention, I have an Idol. And I don’t mean the American variety. I mean the oldest Idol of them all. The I WILL that Lucifer declared as he was thrown down, along with one third of the angels of heaven. My only place on the menu is to do the will of my Father in heaven, just as Jesus did His will. That’s the only sandwich with no worries surrounding the filling.

Two weddings, One more memorial service

And today, my Aunt's obituary is online and in the Dallas Morning News. Tomorrow Muffin and I intend to be at the memorial service for both my Uncle and Aunt. It was only two weeks ago that I observed firsthand "til death parts us" with my parents. That one amazing tear, that rolled slowly down my Daddy's cheek in his final moments, the evidence of his last breath and hearbeat as a promise of faithful love for more than 66 years.... I am in awe. If the Body of Christ could only love one another in that same amazing and selfless unity!
Last weekend when listening to the vows of the couples for whose weddings I provided music I almost could not contain my emotions. One of the pastor's even mentioned that as their hands were linked together in youth and promise, so should their hands be linked together when they were old and wrinkled--exactly the way my parents were when Daddy's spirit left his body.
Muffin and I will celebrate 36 years of married life next week. We plan to do so on a vacation, which includes solitude, quietness, music, Bible study and teaching, and opera. Last but first, if you get my meaning--a massage! I just need someone to rub away all my fatigue and make my mind go puddly. No thinkin, no movin, very little breathin for an hour or so. Then, I'll be ready for the opera and the Bible study.
Speaking of which, this No Other Gods (NOG) is much food for thought. And much food to eat--Yum. Today our group had Black Beans and Rice, Caprese Salad with fresh grown ingredients, and a delicious sour cream pound CAKE. In other words, we ate the Word, on Feed on the Word plates, then had our cake and ate it too.

Blessings; more blessings

Today my precious sisters in my Emmaus reunion group gave me a new Bible. They also gave one to my sister whose brother died on the same day as Daddy. It is the Complete Personalized Promise Bible, with declarations for the reader to speak. That's a Good Word! Truth! Profitable for life! These ladies are my only siblings, having been born an only child to my parents. Of course, the others in the Body of Christ are my only siblings too. So, I'm just an "only child" in my earthly family, but not anywhere else. If you follow me. And I hope you do.
Twas also a blessing to complete a planning meeting this morning for a music club to which I belong. I think I am correct in saying that we bless lots of people with our music and three guest programs each year, giving our "gift" to the community. We met for a little more than an hour and planned our eight yearly meetings, complete with hymns, folk songs, leaders and accompanists, study book, and musical program for 2008-09. With a few more confirmations we will take this to print.
Later in the day I was blessed by some Bible study on my own, which I have been craving for weeks. I could have gone on for hours, but the schedule pressed in for exercise, and other disciplinary activities. After the gym I was blessed to visit my Mom, looking over the box full of beautiful sympathy cards and expressions of love sent to our family by so many friends. We had a good visit, and she blessed me with some aloe vera for the patch where I "ironed" my arm.
But the most amazing blessing of the day was this: a call from cousins to say that my Mom's last remaining uncle passed away yesterday, and just hours later, his beloved wife joined him. They were married 69 years and their spirits were so joined, that even though they were too ill to have cognition of one another's physical presence, their bodies went together to be with God in a span of 30 hours. He was such a fun man--always entertaining kids and adults alike with stories. And what a storyteller he was! She was my kindred spirit-a music teacher and pianist, who became an administrator of music education in their suburb. Heaven grew richer again today.

Marking Time

As I try to return to a semblance of reality and routine, I gather fatigue. Maybe it’s because I am missing Daddy. Or because I let many things go unattended over three weeks and I’m scrambling to pick up the pieces. Or perhaps it’s because I feel more responsibility toward my Mom than I ever have. Maybe it has something to do with my health.

Restless is how I feel every evening, beginning at around 5:30 or 6 p.m. for about four hours. It just seems that I should be at the nursing home, checking in on what kind of day he had, how his speech is today, whether he has a sparkle in his eye or the dullness that only dementia produces. I still wonder who is on call for the evening, who is working the floor, which nurse is taking the night shifts. And I miss Danny and the “block party boys”—the precious aide who takes the men from two halls outside every evening, paying for the juice and cookies out of his own pocket. They listen to gospel music in the courtyard under the trees just before twilight.

Frustrated and over committed is how I feel every morning when I begin making phone calls to schedule lessons, weddings, and programs. All I want to do is my Bible study, but I sing to myself, say a few scriptures, and do a few cheers to bolster my energy levels. Then I fall asleep on the sofa late in the afternoon and almost miss my gym class.

A bit anxious is the feeling I have after spending the morning with Mother—seeing her pain level, knowing she almost has all the paperwork finished in dealing with the changes after Daddy’s death. The certificates are filed, the banker’s home will not be her new home, and soon all the notes of thanks will be written. She needs to re-schedule another spinal injection, canceled in the last weeks Daddy was alive. She needs cataract surgery on one eye. Her house needs new doors and locks in two places. Paint, flooring, gates and perhaps a security system, as well as a smoother surface where the car is parked are top priorities. I made the mistake of mentioning 2 or 3 of those items today. She isn’t afraid, doesn’t worry, doesn’t want the invasion of workers or even family helpers, and only cares about new carpet and tile repair at the present time.

We chose the grave marker today. It will be lovely in bronze and granite with dogwoods and a Methodist cross and flame as Christian symbols. The dates of birth and death, and a triangle of straight razor, comb and shears will complete Daddy’s side. Mother will have the Methodist cross on her side. The veterans’ marker will indicate that he served in the Army in WWII and give his rank. That will insure that the US flag is posted for each holiday, especially Veterans Day. In three to ten weeks all will be in place, no doubt.

In this stage of life we mark time by the events in our lives—children’s weddings and anniversaries; grandchildren’s birthdays; length of time spent on a job or in service as an employee; time between doctor’s appointments; date of death. I long for the courts of the Lord, where there is no time, no repairs, no darkness, no illness, no death. And the Big Event will be eternal praise to our God, who is SO worth it.