Happy Mother's Day to me.

I am sitting in bed listening to my daughter cough in her sleep just HOPING she doesn't wake up.

I am sitting in bed after letting my husband go take care of my family even after he threw up last night and informed me that he has an ear infection and “might be allergic to the sun.” (???)

Yes, I am that selfish of a person. I want to write and be alone that badly.

I have written nothing but TO DO lists, speeches, eulogies and letters to the governor this month. I have been alone exactly 20 waking seconds in the last 30 days. So here goes a summary of the month I may have cancelled if I had seen it coming on my calendar – but a month I wouldn't now trade for the world. If you have been a part of it in any way – thank you.

_____________________________

First my children were sick for so many days that they became professional patients. To the point that one night in bed they asked for, “homemade vanilla pudding with a maraschino cherry on top.” They knew they would get it because they had gone at least 4 days without really feeling up to eating anything.

Then there was easter and baptisms. 

And our friend Sawsan randomly returning from Saudi Arabia bringing gifts 

 

And then there was THE SALE

And Grandma coming to the sale :).

And fitting in random trips to the museum and time to celebrate birthdays.

 

And a wonderful work day at Bethesda 

And then grandma passed away and Palmer came to visit.

And then 23 days of this...

and this...

And celebrating Joan's birthday like this...

and this...

and this...

and a trip to a zoo where the only animals where these two.

 And then there was First Communion

 And two school programs and a school fundraiser and a field trip and and field day 

And the building of Jurassic Park Islands

And a trip to Home Depot turned craft day 

And an Ice Cream Social

 

And an impromptu BBQ on a perfect spring day

And cleaning out the pool.

 

And the last Bible Study for the semester

 And the Symphony  

And little family reunions 

 

 

And a Garden Day... 

 Full of old memories

 and new friends...

an undercover CSI agent... complete with hidden handcuffs

amazing music

faithful volunteers

garden advice

(mom looking at a photo of Bruce's crops and realizing why I always call Uncle Bruce instead of asking she and dad)

moments of peace...

moments of mothering...

 Moments of miracles... 

Yesterday our shirts simply read, “love is patient.”

That's what life as a mom, a daughter, a wife, a caregiver, a friend is:

A lesson in learning patience. 

An opportunity to grow in love.

Happy Mother's day to me... time to get today's lesson going

There once was a generation

Jay will be getting out of the hospital on Tuesday after 23 days. The man (who always speaks of himself in third person) has spoken, "Jay is ready to go home."  We are ready for Jay to go home.  The other night - one of the hundred nurses who has just fallen in love with his compliant, over-greatful, not-quite-demanding-enough personality, offered to take him home with her.  I about jumped over the counter to strangle her.  'Cause you see 3 weeks ago I thought we had lost him.  And I guess - maybe I'm still a BIT touchy about losing him.

You see my parents did something right 32 years ago when they invited him into our family.  They invited the embodiment of consistency into our home.  For the week that Jay was on the ventilator and could not breath I could eerily hear his voice whisper to me - his pat phrases - his life long quotes of confidence.  Jarod said one night that when he spoke to Jay he could imagine his responses perfectly.  Dad just said that Jay was his best friend.  And I just kept thinking over and over again of the prayer he repeats - morning, noon and night, "Thank you for this good morning we're havin' - everyone of us - everyone of us - thank you for this good mornin'."  At dinner.

My life - no matter the twists and turns has been blessed with the constant optimism and good will of Jay.  When he had been moved to the second floor surgical unit and we had various people sit with him on a rotating 24/7 schedule - he would often comment to the outgoing friend, "You had a good time with me here. We had a good time."  Yep - check those vitals, change that ostomy,  hear that dangerous wheezing for breath, unkink the tubes.  Thanks for that great time we've been havin' Jay.  And in Rehab "I'm gettin' better - you know Jay's gettin' better. Stronger."  Putting forth more effort and willingness than any nurse has ever seen to overcome his new limitation, and demonstrating a surprising level of comfort with awkward things like new CNA's spilling the ostomy bag all over him.  And why am I surprised?  His whole life has been filled with gracefully overcoming obstacles and adjusting to the limits pressed upon him.  He was made by God to overcome insurmountable odds with grace and humility.  He was meant to show us the way.

...
So I was at a meeting the other day and they were all talking about the overall "aging population" of the DD community (people like Jay).  And they had their theories on why.  And I have mine.  But there are factually fewer people like Jay in the world.  In the 1980's they were released from institutions into our communities. Now there are just fewer.  In effect our society got one generation of Jays.  There are not enough of him to go around.  Not enough of his humor. Not enough of his consistency.  Not enough of his genuine gratitiude for each morning ... that lasts all day. Not enough of his generosity and his innocence.   Some people will give you the shirt off their back - but Jay will give you much more.  Once when we had been camping for three days Jay asked my cousin if he could borrow his toothbrush.  My cousin and I couldn't stop laughing because - "why would someone ask such a thing?"  The answer is simple:  Jay would have loaned his to anyone - had he remember to bring one.

Jay will give us more than a toothbrush in the coming months - he will give us grace as we move from fellow farmers into the role of nurse.  He will give us humor as we fail at that role again and again.  He will give us insight as he more than "manages"  - just like he has his whole life. And I can't wait to bring him HOME.

Thoughts on Grandma

Psalm 116:15-16

Precious in the sight of the Lord

is the death of his faithful servants.

Truly I am your servant, Lord;

I serve you just as my mother did;

you have freed me from my chains.

I guess when someone lives to be 97 they naturally become larger than life. Their fingerprints manage to work their way all over every house and article owned by a family. Somehow though, I think Grandma Stafford may have started larger than life. Somehow, I believe had her life been only this last decade, not all 97 years – she would have changed us each forever. I have thought much and written much about my Grandmother over the years. The self-educated woman - “from the cotton patch – to the pentagon”- the source of our entire family's sustenance (whether she was feeding us, financing us, advising us or disciplining us).

But this morning... on the morning where she FINALLY left us to be with Jesus... I want to record what she has given to me in the past decade. The years after grandpa. The years since we knew something was wrong because she ate all 5 quarts of Jarod's fudge in one night.... because - let's face it – if every piece seems like your first – “Why not?” Alzheimer is a terrible disease. And though she ate plenty of peanut M&M's and fudge for her reward of a life well lived... it is not the slow and horrifying way anyone would choose to go.

So why was she here this last decade? Moving from house to house. Walking my Aunt through cancer, Paul back to Kansas, my parents through transitions, me through the first years of motherhood, living in each of our homes, surviving surgery after surgery, and then finally living the day-in-day-out at a nursing home – locked in her own little world? Why did she repeat story after story to caretaker after caretaker until we thought we couldn't listen to the story one more time? And then, just like the seasons of the year pass, with a favorite fruit that you have eaten to much of... it is gone. But unlike the season of the year... each story was never to return... and somehow – beyond all fathoming – I couldn't remember it word for word like I swore I could. And I would wish for each story back so I could REALLY LISTEN.

But there was only silence. Listening to the last years of silence from her. The woman who after school would drill me on what I had learned and lecture me on what I hadn't. She had no more words for me. But she didn't leave me. Sometimes when I would be feeding her one side and Lucy on the other - she would reach for a spoon and try to feed me. Until the end – she would sometimes try to feed me. These last years she has physically lived the reality that I don't really want to face, but yet through her I have come to love and accept.

In life, no matter how we want to impact the lives of others, in the end – all we can really do is BE THERE for one another. Often in silence. Watching one another muddle through our own battles and lessons. James 4 says, “Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” In the end, after the example has been set and the advice has been dispensed and the goal has been established, we just get carried along by the quick vapor of life together saying... “as the Lord wills”. Or in my language, “I didn't see that one coming.” So – grandma and I were just there for one another. In the end, neither of us really having anything to offer the other – at all. Both of us learning that THAT was truly ok. It was the final lesson she had to teach me... and I hope I really listened.

Grandma... I am sorry it took me so long to listen in the silence. I'm sorry it became the joke among us all that you would “Never die.” But the truth is … you will NEVER die. For you will always BE with Him in glory. Thank you for learning to BE, here with me, on earth. I will TRULY, TRULY miss you.

Until we meet again...

P.S.  Grandma... I am not going to spend much time this week on funeral plans... I am going to work on getting all the money to the kids in Honduras for their schooling.  I know you are good with that.  Thanks for changing ALL our lives.