The Smell of the Holidays

It's not just about the sights and sounds of the holidays. It's the smell. Today my friend, Kasie and I went to lunch then walked around an area called Fairhaven. Fairhaven is a small urban village area, about four square blocks filled with boutique-type shops, restaurants, offices and condos. There is a grocery store thrown in for good will and a few banks. From Fairhaven you can walk a few trails or walk down to the ferry terminal. You can see the water from most places or walk down to the water. It's a fun area and a great place to people watch. Kasie and I walked through the stores stopping when something caught our eye. We loved the stores that smelled good the minute you walked in. It made me think of the wonderful scents of Christmas. Unique to this season are the holiday scents that I love. They make me stop, inhale and smile. My favorites include the scent of cookies baking, Pumpkin Spice lattes from Starbucks or Woods Coffee, hot cider or hot buttered rum. But my all time favorite, the pine scent of Christmas trees. The house smells wonderful for weeks. We used to go chop down a Christmas tree every year. We would go to each Christmas tree farm until we found the perfect tree. Our trees had to be at least eight feet or over. We would agree on the tree then chop it down and haul it home. Getting it in the door was another story. Usually help had to be enlisted from a neighbor. I would spend two days "lighting" the tree. It involved wrapping each branch with lights. It took time but the end result was worth it. I have to admit though, for the last two years, we have used a fake tree, to my embarrassment. It is so much easier though. You haul it out from the basement, straighten all the branches and plug it in. Done, in about half an hour versus the days it took to just get the lights on the real one. And, I just got a tip from my step-daughter, Jamie. She suggested that I go get the "Mistletoe" candle from Bed, Bath and Beyond. She says it smells just like Christmas trees. I think I'll do just that. I do love the Christmas scents.

Week One of Advent

I decided to go to church today. I don't make it as often as I would like but today marks the first week of Advent. Growing up, Advent always signaled a time to think about your actions leading up to Christmas. It was a time of self-reflection. I will try to go every week. I can always use a kick in the butt. Advent is like a spiritual kick in the soul. I like to think it keeps the focus of Christmas on the reason we celebrate. I loaded the boys and Jesse (the dog) into the car and in the middle of a rainstorm, we ventured out. Once I got to church, I was able to park right in front. The boys refused to get out of the car. Instead of trying to force the issue I said a quick prayer requesting God send an angel to watch over them. I left them to their books and portable DVD player and made it inside in time for the opening music. Even though the sermons are meaningful, I love the singing. I love to sing. The music director decided that one Christmas hymn was appropriate along with the other songs planned. I loved it. I closed my eyes and sang along. It felt very festive. It was also fun to see a lot of people I hadn't seen in sometime. As people I knew came by, the stopped or waved. One elderly woman came over with a hug for me. Each time I had been at church, she was there. She was a fixture of the church. She asked about the boys. I turned around to glance at the car. The car wasn't shaking or moving. No yelling could be heard. Jesse has his head hanging from the window smiling his fabled golden retriever grin. So far, so good. I asked her to also pray the kids would be fine, not fight, not choke each other, not start yelling while I tried to spend some time in church. She laughed and said she would. After the music portion ended I decided it was time to go check on the boys. They were remarkably fine. I said a quick prayer of thanks while I made my way back into church. I decided to go in the front door instead of the side door so I could just slip in without interrupting anyone. The side doors led right into the room where the service was held. The main doors opened into the foyer and from there, into the main room. I could slip back in unnoticed. That was the plan at least. When I got to the foyer the woman who runs the daycare was standing there. She was surprised to see me, it had been so long. She gave me a hug and also asked about the boys. Then she told me her son who was three and half, had been diagnosed with the same disorder that my boys have, Fragile X Syndrome. My heart immediately went out to her. She had a long road ahead of her. So much to learn and to overcome. I had lived it all. I encouraged her when I heard what she had been doing and what was happening with her son. Then she told me she would love to talk more with me. She just happened to have her address book with her so I wrote down my phone number and email address. We are supposed to get together soon. Maybe on this first week of Advent I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Not in the service, but connecting with the one person I needed to connect with. Amen.

Eating and Decorating

The day after Thanksgiving. For me its a day to get back to healthy eating. I would have been successful except for the pecan pie I spotted, right there in plain sight when I opened up the refrigerator. I thought maybe one or two bites of just the filling, which really is the best part, wouldn't hurt. So, now I have scraped off all the filling off of the crust and left the pecans for someone else to eat. I already feel a little guilty. I will make up for it though by exercising. I don't even want to know how long you would have to exercise to burn off pecan pie filling. I have more of the mindset of if you are going to eat it, enjoy it! That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I promise not to whine after the holidays are over that my weight has gone up. I do have to say, I just recently started a healthy eating plan and have lost five pounds. I intend not to completely blow it just because the holidays are upon us. I wonder if eating the pecan pie filling counts as blowing it. No, I have decided it doesn't. It's too early in the season.
The day after Thanksgiving we also decorate for Christmas. We get the tree up and get the outdoor decorations out. This year I wanted to decorate the large cedar tree outside of my son's bedroom window. It is as least fifty feet tall though and I couldn't figure out how to get the lights on it. Climbing it was an option but those branches I'm staring at from the window don't look like they would support anything larger than a midsized bird. I am not a bird or birdlike. Instead I strung lights on a much smaller cedar that is growing next to a stump right off of the back patio. I am very pleased with the little tree which is about seven feet tall. It was much more manageable. If you look hard at the picture, you can see the multi-colored lights on it.
The Holidays are once again upon us. We can make so many different choices this season. What we will eat, what we will feel guilty about or not, who we will celebrate with. How we will feel about those we celebrate with. It's such an interesting time of year. Many of us will feel the effects of the economy this season. I hope you don't let yourself get too stressed out by it. I am just thankful we have a house that keeps us warm and that my sons are healthy. Speaking of my sons, Tery just came and got the leftover pecan pie which is really just the pecans and crust now. He'll eat anything.

The Soul Wrenching Grief Club

While standing in the hallway outside of my sister's room at the hospital, a doctor told me about the private club you get initiated into when you lose someone you love. It's a club no one wants a membership to. Nonetheless, we all will belong to it at some point in our lives. It's the Mourning Club also referred to as the Soul Wrenching Grief Club. Once you're in it you look for a way out. There is none. You are present whenever it convenes. It will call to you anytime of the day or night, in any place. The most common time and place is when you least expect it. You can be out Christmas shopping when you spot something that would be perfect for your loved one. Then you remember the loved one is no longer here. And your heart breaks all over again. Next comes the times when you don't hear it as loudly or as often. Then one day you realize you can take a breath without it hurting. That is the beginning of being an inactive member. You are still a member but the call to tears won't happen as frequently.
Unless you are in this club you cannot understand what it feels like. You try. You see how much pain they are in. You throw them lifelines. They will appreciate your efforts but they know nothing can help them. They are lost. I have been there. I know what it feels like. I also know that it is up to you to make the choice to live. My friend Pete says it so well,
"I once taught rock-climbing. Many moves on the face of a climb are logical, though hard. Others require that you let go, reach and hold onto the next anchor. A commitment move. ...it doesn't mean that the place you just came from wasn't an anchor, wasn't important nor that it no longer matters. If you stayed there, you were bound to fall, eventually, tired of trying to hold on. Climbing on is hard, sometimes seemingly impossible but it's part of the journey."
While the holidays can be full of joy and love they can also be hard to get through for a person who is grieving. If you know someone who is having a hard time, a hug can be a wonderful gesture.

Taking Care of Tery

My husband often says if you were to look up "innocent" in the dictionary you would find a picture of Tery. Our second son was born with the same disability as our older son. Yet, Tery is completely different in his abilities and cognitive skills. He has the intellect of a three year according the the testing done at Children's Hospital in Seattle. And yet it's this quality that also makes him so endearing. His world is filled with love and trust. He laughs at Winnie the Pooh, rocks out to Tina Turner and loves playing ball. Oh, and he loves watching the pretty girls run past him while we walk the lake. He will say, "Go!" then take off running too, for about twelve steps.
For all the joy he brings to everyone who meets him, there is a harsh reality also. Believe me, it is a challenge having two sons with a disability. When they were small it wasn't as difficult because we were able to hire a sitter, just like other families would do for their children. As they got older, finding a person who would be willing to help them in the bathroom as well as cook, clean and interact with them was more difficult. Thankfully, Marianne's House (a day activity center for adults with special needs) opened and they had a place to go to when they were out of school.
Beside having them live at home and taking care of them, the biggest challenge is is for my husband and and I to maintain a healthy marriage. Marriage is hard enough without the boys but with them, the stress level can get dangerously high. More on marriage later.
Once I had the boys with me at on outdoor event. Just so you can picture it, both of my sons are taller than I am and outweigh me. Tery cannot tolerate lots of people. Add small kids into the mix and off he'll go. Either that or he will have a meltdown on the spot. A meltdown usually includes yelling and hand biting, sometimes until he draws blood. He will head to the car to escape the shrill voices of small children. On this day we were down at a waterfront park. There was a BBQ going on for a fundraiser for a local group. It was a struggle keeping a hold on Tery while I talked to a few people I knew. During a quiet moment one of the guys I knew asked me, "What do you have to do for Tery?" My answer was simple, "Everything." Tery requires a lot of supervision. He can feed himself but will over stuff his mouth and choke if not watched. He usually makes it to the bathroom in time but cannot clean himself. Just think, three year old, and you will pretty much understand what he is like.
But when Tery laughs, everyone around him will laugh too or at least smile. It's infectious. When Tery cries those huge alligator tears if his, your heart will break right along with him.

After a Stroke

While you are recovering from a stroke you will feel so many emotions. Each day could be completely different from the previous day. It is definitely a "one step forward, two steps back" process. My stroke occurred back in April on Easter weekend. I lost my entire right side which I have regained very quickly though not completely and far from perfectly. As I sit here typing I have to retype words several times because I invariably hit the incorrect key. When I am tired, the mistakes occur more frequently. I seem to be very tired these past few days. Every time I think I can manage being busy for an entire day, I will feel ill the next two. I used to wake up with headaches each morning but the headaches have slowly dissipated. I still get them, just not as frequently. Today is a headache day.
Emotionally I am feeling a little lost. Normally I feel excitement about a project I am working on or an article I am writing. Today I feel a slight panic from not feeling any excitement for anything. I just want to feel well and be healthy again. It's a long road though and I feel like I don't have the energy to get there. My doctor, whom I see tomorrow, told me at the beginning to not give into the depression that inevitably comes. I feel it trying to take hold. I feel like nothing is quite right with my body. I'm a little frightened that I will never completely recover.
This is just today though and just for this moment. I write this to vent but to also reach out to those who may be feeling the same thing. Even while I sit here in the fog I know the day will clear and I will be able to see far beyond my own limitations. Today may be another day just to take it easy. I think I will call my friend, Meg, who writes also and possibly better, to write something for Women Talk. I don't want to abandon the column, I just don't have any inspiring thing to say at the moment. Meg might though.
My head hurts today. Thank God for spell check.

My Mom, Part 2

My Mom, part 2
I looked over at Mom when I entered the room. She had an oxygen mask on and her face was very pale. Marianne took hold of her ands and said, "Look who happened to be in the area, Mom!" Mom opened her eyes and looked over at me. She said, "Oh! What are you doing here? Are you going to sleep at Marianne's tonight?" I told her I was. She was glad for that but was a little put out that I had driven down. For the next few hours we held her hand while Marianne brushed her hair back. Mom would occasionally open her eyes and smile at us. She would tell us to go home every so often too. We could come back tomorrow to see her. I checked with the nurse to see how she really was and if I should be calling my other siblings. The nurse explained that Mom had been given antibiotics and was resting comfortably but appeared to be on her way out. I didn't really comprehend what she was saying. I called my brother and had the nurse talk to him. She told him that Mom's extremities were cool and that her kidney's had shut down. The nurse was telling us that Mom was dying without coming right out and saying it. I got back on the phone to see if my brother had understood what he had been told. I don't think he did. He said maybe he should wait to fly home until the following day. I told him to come now but that we'd call him again in a few hours. I called my sister in Montana and told her to come. Next, I called my other sister and then my mom's sister. There is a huge amount of coordination when trying to get home to see a loved one who may be dying. Once you make the decision to call people, there are lots of calls to make.
My sister and my brother tried calling the hospital in hopes of talking to Mom. My brother was lucky enough to get through to her. She was tickled to talk to him. My sister did not get through to her, which she regrets to this day. When Aunt Josette called, I handed the phone to Mom telling her who it was. She was very breathless but was glad to talk to her. Nonetheless, she cast a disapproving glance my way asking if I had told Josette. Mom told Josette not to bother driving into Seattle. She told her she had gotten sick after dinner and things had just gone down hill since then. She picked at the blanket while talking. Mom seemed more exasperated then anything else. She told her sister she would talk to her later.
At 7:00am, Marianne decided to go home to get a nap. Mom rubbed her upper abdomen and said "Ouch, ouch." I told a nurse who gave her a shot of morphine. She asked Mom if she wanted a morphine drip. "Not right now," Mom said. She asked to have her phone near her. I sat next to her bed watching her every movement. Once, she opened her eyes. Looking around the room her eyes landed on me. I raised my eyebrows in a silent question. She answered with a gentle smile.
The nurse's shift changed. The new nurse came in to get Mom's blood pressure. She couldn't find it. They brought in a device that looked like a microphone. I heard a few beats of Mom's heart, then nothing, then another beat. The nurse left the room without saying anything to Mom. Mom looked a little perturbed but then tossed her hand as if dismissing her. I stepped outside of the room to listen to the conversation the nurse was having with the doctor on the phone. The nurse seemed concerned about what they were supposed to be doing for Mom. She told the doctor there was no blood pressure. She glanced up to see me standing right there. "Oh, she is right here," she told the doctor. She held out the phone to me. I glanced back at Mom and was surprised to see her staring intently at me. I motion at her that I would just be a minute. I went to talk to the doctor. The doctor said he was surprised at the turn of events. He had just seen Mom and everything had appeared to be normal. He suggested she be moved to the I.C.U. I agreed and went back into my mom's room. The resident doctor came in to talk to her about moving her to the I.C.U. and what that would mean. Mom said she wanted a few minutes to think about it. He looked over at me then at the nurse. The nurse motioned for me to follow her out. She told me she thought moving her was the right decision. We both agreed if there was something we could do, we should try. I went back into Mom's room and noticed she had removed the oxygen mask. I told her, "Now Mom, the nurse said you were supposed to keep this on." I noticed how soft her hair was as I slipped the mask back in place. She didn't answer me. I took her hand and noticed how it had gone from cool to icy. I looked over at her other and and saw the finger tips were turning purple. I glanced back up at her face and was alarmed to see her pallor had changed to white. I fought with myself wondering if I should stay or get the doctor. I quickly made up my mind and ran out. The doctor told me it was normal for the fingertips to turn color. I told him about the change in color in her face. Both he and the nurse said, "Uh oh." We all ran back into her room.
The nurse went to one side of her bed, the doctor to the other. I took her hand and held it while they called to her. "Mrs. deSouza? Mrs. deSouza?" They asked. She didn't reply. The nurse said, "She's not responding." The doctor got out his stethoscope and listened for a heartbeat. I didn't know if I should try calling out to her or not. I battled within myself. I knew if she were to go she would be in a wonderful place but I didn't know if I could let her go. I said, "Momma?" in a quiet voice. I knew that mom would answer me. All mom's answer their children if they can. I wanted her to. I took both her hands in mine feeling protective. I looked up at the doctor with hope in my face. He said, "I'm sorry." I think I asked if she was gone. He said she was. While still holding her hands, I collapsed onto her legs. A wail of despair sounded from the deepest reaches of my heart. It reverberated through my soul. Then I felt her squeeze my hand! I looked up at her face expecting to see her eyes open and her back with us. But I didn't. She had given me her last embrace. Through tears, I asked her if she was going to be with Didi now. We had lost Didi two years prior. With a shaky voice, I told her I loved her. I glanced up at the nurse and saw tears in her eyes too. I looked back at my mom and watched with horror as the oxygen mask filled with a dark fluid. I shrank back from the bed as the doctor told me he was sorry I had to see that. The room got very busy then. Someone sat me down in a chair and hugged me while I cried. Someone else suggested I leave while they cleaned things up. I got up to call my Aunt Josette and then Marianne. I had to repeat it to Marianne. She couldn't believe what had just happened. I couldn't leave my mom alone. I went back and sat. I just sat with her. While sitting, I looked around the room to see if I could see her soul. I looked up. I had heard or read people who have had a near death experience she themselves hover over their bodies. "Was she still close by?" I didn't see her spirit anywhere which is most likely a good thing. I would have keeled over on the spot. But then, something else did happen. The sun came out and filtered into the room. The whole room was bathed in sunshine for just a moment. "Mom." I said out loud. I looked back to the bed. The person laying there no longer held the spark of life that was my mom. She was gone.

Scott Art?

The disorder that both of my sons have is called, "Fragile X Syndrome." It had lain silent in my genetic makeup just waiting for the chance to be passed on and made known. There was a fifty/fifty change that my children would end up with it. Both of my sons lost the toss, they both have it. Quite simply, they are developmentally disabled which we used to call, "mentally retarded." These days it's politically incorrect to use that term but I find its easier for people to understand. Both of my sons have the same disorder but they are completely different in their abilities and behavior. My oldest son, Scott, is very verbal, very high level functioning. He can get over stimulated with too much going on or even too much television. We've had to restrict his channels. He loves the cooking channels. Currently his favorite shows are "Julia and Jacques" and "The Two Fat Ladies." "Emeril" has fallen off. I have to say, Scott knows more about cooking than I do! He also watches the home decorating shows and art shows and one of the shopping channels. He was very excited the day I walked in his room and saw "Today's Special Value!" It's how I got my favorite leather jacket.
Scott is quite good with color. When Marianne was in the hospital, a doctor walked in wearing a matching shirt and tie. Scott took note and told the doctor, "I like the shirt and tie. It works really well together." The doctor laughed and replied, "I try." Then he noticed the picture Scott had painted for Marianne. It was bands of color. The doctor liked it so much he asked if Scott would paint him something similar. Scott said he would. On the next visit, Scott brought him the painting. The doctor offered one hundred dollars but Marianne told him that fifty would be more than sufficient. Scott had sold his first painting. Maybe he will make a career out of it and sell more. Scott is now working on "Fall Trees" for Christmas presents. I'll let you know how they turn out.

Your Phone

I just want to tell everyone that talking, texting and having your cell phone on or worse yet, in use at the table is just plain rude. It tells the person or people that you are with that they are not a priority. That what they are saying holds no value for you. If you have a sitter at home and need to have your phone handy, that's one thing. But if you are at dinner or in a meeting and you are constantly looking at your phone, you may need to attend a class in manners. I was at a dinner recently where two of my table mates had their cell phones out during dinner. Worse yet, they texted each other. They were sitting across the table from each other! The look on the faces of rest of the people at the table was incredulous. If you absolutely have to take a picture or two at dinner, so be it. But then put it away. Give your attention to the people you are seated with. It shows you are interested in what they have to say. Maybe you need to learn how to engage others, make conversation and get to know a person. Trust me. They will walk away with a good impression of you if you do those simple things. God forbid you take your cell phone to lunch with your boss.
People, leave your cells phones in the car or in your purse or in your pocket when meeting with others. Make the person you are meeting the priority.

Tea Time

This cold/flu bug had me dragging this morning. I really just wanted a cup of tea but I was already running late. I didn't want to take the time to make it. I was determined to get out of the house and get things done. I had things to do. The morning list included: 1)Take Tery to Marianne's House (a day activity center for adults with developmental disabilities). 2) Talk to Julie and April at Marianne's House about planning a strategic planning meeting. 3)Get Jesse some exercise by letting him run around at the park (where I met and talked to a woman who had a stroke not too long ago). 3)Go grocery shopping (the refrigerator was empty). I came home after completing each task and really wishing I could just make a cup of tea then lay down. But the next list, the "Do at home list" kept growing. It seemed as I checked off one item, like getting the groceries put away and deciding what to make for dinner or returning a call to a person, another item or two would take its place. A conversation with one person would lead to making several other calls. My list was growing as I started thinking about and making plans to coordinate with others about Marianne's House year end planning for donation requests and events. There is always something to be done when you are working with a nonprofit. I hadn't been very active this past year due to the stroke but I now I'm tying to put more effort into it. I just need to manage myself.
In the midst of all this, I finally decided to make some tea. I filled up the stainless steal teapot and put it in the microwave to heat it. Yes, that's right. IN THE MICROWAVE! Thankfully, it didn't fit very well. It was at about that time I realized what I was trying to do and took it out of the microwave. I heated the teapot on top of the stove. Now I am sitting here with my tea in my favorite teacup thinking I just really need to lay down.

My Mom

Jacqueline May Evanson deSouza. My mom was a strong woman. She was half French and half Norwegian. I don't think she was given the opportunity to show her playful French side very often. Not at least when I knew her. In her younger years, she was much more light hearted. She sang in a band in her early twenties, travelled to Hawaii and to Europe. Then she moved away from home and met my dad in San Francisco. She laughed more back then. Still, when we were growing up, every now and then her bright blue eyes would sparkle and she would laugh at something happening around her. Having six kids very close in age did not allow her a lot of time to play as the French are known to do. She was highly intelligent and enjoyed working. I hadn't realized it then but looking back, Mom was very entrepreneurial. While we were still small Mom would do laundry for others and owned a steam press to steam clothes. It was a big machine that constantly had steam escaping from it. It would give professional looking pleats to clothes. It must have been very hot to work around. When we were in school, Mom took a job as the school secretary. Much to the chagrin of myself and my siblings. We weren't hauled off to the Principal's office if we misbehaved, we were sent to my mom's. When we left grade school, Mom went to the work for the City of Seattle in Word Processing where she stayed until she retired. Mom always loved tavelling and encouraged us to travel and see the world. She felt that relationships could wait while we discovered the world.
I think the concept of romance and passion were let go of a long time ago in my mom's life. Her life was based on the here and now and the hardships of raising a family. Dad was present some of the time but being an engineer for Foss, he was also gone for long periods of time. Mostly he was sailing the waters of Alaska up to Prudhoe Bay. Being from Brazil, Dad's concept of parenting and being a good husband seemed at odds with my mom's. My dad did love her though. He told me once mom had the most beautiful color of hair. It was auburn. Though Mom did laugh at that when I told this to her. She said, "It's not my natural color!" Then she showed me the bottle that contained the color. It was our secret. I remember Dad breaking down in tears the day we told him she had passed away. They had been divorced for many years at that point.
We realized Mom was sick upon returning from a vacation. Mom had generously offered to watch the boys while Mark and I got away. She had developed a cold and was wheezing a little. Her cold did not get any better after she went home. After a few more days her breathing became labored. Mom did not like going to the doctor's but she finally made an appointment. She thought she needed some antibiotics to fight some kind of infection. I hoped it wasn't pneumonia. It wasn't. The doctor listened to her lungs and could hear fluid surrounding them. He decided to have some of the fluid drained off and and biopsied. the fluid was full of cancer cells. The fluid called ascites, was caused by tumor growth in another area of her body. A CT scan would show where. Multiple tumors were found in her abdominal area and on her ovaries. Though the doctor's did not know where the cancer originated they called it ovarian cancer and treated it as such.
My family went into shock. We had recently lost my oldest sister to cancer so this couldn't be happening again. But it was happening. Mom tried to keep as much from us as possible as to her prognosis. She didn't believe in worrying us. Unbeknownst to us, she had been given a scant six months to live. While my sister Marianne and I were sitting at the doctor's office he happened to mention she had already lived past that. Marianne and I looked over at Mom. "What the heck?" She had that defiant twinkle in her eyes. Fourteen months had already gone by.
Throughout her year and a half of chemotherapy, Mom hardly ever complained or talked much about the disease. If asked how she was feeling she would undoubtedly say, "Oh. pretty good," or "Not too bad." Mom got progressively worse though. She was losing weight steadily but that was a silver lining for her! It had been a long time since she was down to her pre-kids weight and now she was. She liked having her legs look good again. She would even make a point of showing them off to us. It was funny.
One evening Mom called Marianne to ask her if she had already gone to bed. She didn't want to bother her if she had. Marianne said she hadn't and asked, "What's wrong?" Mom asked her if she would mind taking her to the hospital. She wasn't feeling very well. There was one other time Mom needed to go to the hospital to fight an infection. Marianne calmed her fears by telling herself this was most likely the same thing. She drove the twenty minutes over to Mom's house. She was alarmed to find Mom still in bed. Mom told her she didn't think she could make it out of bed and would she please call an ambulance. This frightened Marianne. Mom was not one to call for an ambulance. She must be really feeling awful. The ambulance came and the EMT's were very considerate of Mom, even asking her if she needed a blanket. Marianne drove behind the ambulance to the hospital wondering what was happening and if she should call anyone. It wasn't until 1:30am that she called me. I was living in Whatcom County, an hour and a half from Seattle. With a slight panic in her voice she asked me to please come to Providence Hospital. She explained Mom had gone into the hospital at about 10:30pm. Mom had felt sick after dinner so had gone to bed early. She had not felt any better so she finally called Marianne around 9:30pm.
I raced down to Seattle leaving Mark to take care of the boys and to call my brother in North Carolina. I don't recall very much of the trip down. I got to Seattle at about 3:00am. I parked my car behind Marianne's, just outside of the emergency room. Mom had been admitted I was informed. She was up on the fourth floor, room 423. I sprinted down the hallway and into the maze of corridors that make up most hospitals. I managed to make only one wrong turn and soon was standing outside of Mom's room. Marianne saw me and walked up to me. She told me Mom was going to be mad because she didn't know I had been called. Marianne said that a doctor had told her Mom was a lot sicker than we had known and chances were she may not pull out of this. "Okay," thought Marianne, "what does that mean?" I walked into my mom's room. What took place in the next few hours would live with me forever.

Incredible Joy and Incredible Pain

On one of Oprah's Lifeclasses was the subject of how you can rise up even from the darkest of times. Then she went on to say how sharing a painful experience of yours can help someone going through something just as painful. It made me think of someone reaching out their hand for you to grab a hold of just when you were slipping and about to fall. I felt a small twinge in me when I heard this. I thought to myself, "Can it be that sharing is what I am supposed to do? Can it be that easy, just telling my story?" To clarify, my life has not be easy. I think anyone who knows me will back me up on that. Though in the same breath I can honestly say, my life has been over flowing with love and laughter.
I have a gift of connecting with people. Maybe that is what God has in mind for me. To share what I know. To connect, to let others know they are far from being alone in their pain. I have found in talking to many women over the years, they carry around what I termed, a "heart hurt." 100% of the women I talked to had this. Their reasons about the why differed. But they all had something inside that they carried that caused them pain. Maybe I was just led to connect with those particular women. Maybe there is only one person out there who needs to hear what I can tell them. But one person is enough.
Now the question is where to begin? Which part of my life to begin with? One truth about life: The only way to recognize incredible joy is to have experienced incredible pain. There is no getting around it. Those are the stories I will share, along with some funny ones because I think laughter is the best cure of all.
I hope you come with me. Let's begin.

Help Comes in All Forms!

Let them help you!
I have the flu/cold bug. It's my third day and so far, it's the worst day. I always try to be thankful for something each day. Today I am thankful that I have my husband and my oldest son helping out. I remember when I was a single mom and had to get up and take care of the boys even when I was sick. Women seem to be able to do that easier then men though. Life doesn't ever stop just because you are sick. But my advice, if you can have help, if help is offered, take it graciously. You don't always have to be super-mom or super-woman. In fact, if you have someone in your life, I bet they are just waiting for a chance to take care of you. Maybe they need to feel needed.

By the way, there is nothing like having a dog snuggle with you while you are laying in bed. My golden retriever, Jesse, came up on the bed but decided to lay down on the side. I was drifting off when I heard this loud thump. From the floor, Jesse peered up at me with a confused look in his eyes. He had fallen off the bed. Laughing but not so he could tell, I called him back up. He snuggled right up against me this time. It really did make me feel better. I love my dog.