Friday, December 22
Blue
Before I begin writing, you have the courtesy of a warning. There are squillions of warm and fuzzy, festive and funny, light and nostalgic, spiritual and thought-provoking blog posts waiting to be read. This is not one of them. This is one of those times I long for a real pensieve, so I could empty my mind...and heart...of heavy thoughts; not to forget them, just to store them away for a time when there weren't so many of them.
For over a week, I've been painfully reminded that Christmas is not a happy time for many people. Perhaps in their own childhood, there was abuse or neglect, or maybe it was a simple case of parents so caught up in the trappings of the season, it held no meaning or circumstance apart from excessive materialism, which ultimiately breeds discontent. For others, perhaps loss of a loved one leaves them feeling lonely and in grief. There are a million scenarios with just as many sad circumstances, and several of these have hit very close to home.
My former pastor lost his wife this Spring to leukemia. She was also a good friend to me. Married for over 30 years, she LOVED Christmas, her home was decorated from roof to, I imagine, basement. Think Griswolds, lol. There wasn't a room in their house that didn't have some kind of Christmas icon, a gazillion Santa Clauses, which I always thought funny. She hosted parties for anyone and everyone because that fed her soul; and a tradition for me and my children was to visit them each season, mainly to look at her Christmas village. Because they had pastored for years, they had many friends in many places; everyone knew Anne loved Christmas, and whenever they were looking for a gift to give her, they'd choose a piece of this village for her. Her family must've done the same. It was the most extensive city I've ever seen before, she had more pieces than most stores who sell the stuff--MOVING pieces, too. Carousels and ice skating rinks and I think Santa with a sleigh flying around. My kids loved it, and their Christmas train, too. This will be Shelton's (and their adult children and grandchildren) first Christmas without her. He's been on my mind a lot. They were more than pastor and wife to our family, they invited us into their lives.
Then, there's Sandy and Alice. Their husbands left them last week. LAST WEEK! :( These are not close friends of mine, but they are in my "sphere" and they are friends. Between the two of them, they have six children. In one case, it's been coming for a long time; but in the other, total shock (at least publically). My heart BREAKS for these women who are dying on the inside, who don't want this to be happening, who are helpless to stop it. I'm sure they are shell-shocked and going through the motions for the sake of their children. Their children...their babies...who most certainly are not having a "merry Christmas" and will possibly be over-indulged with "things" to compensate for this loss of daddy. Maybe not, but I could see it. How could these husbands--FATHERS--leave their families NOW? Whatever happened last weekend, didn't just happen then, why couldn't they suck it up for the sake of their kids? It infuriates me and grieves me.
Similarly, we received a Christmas card from one of my dearest friends this week. It was she and her two children. Her divorce is in the final stages, and the absence of her husband in the picture was a visual reminder that her marriage is almost dead. I know my friend, I KNOW what she was thinking when that photograph was taken; I can imagine what was going through her children's minds. Their eyes bespoke sadness, I wonder if anyone else sees that.
Then there's my friend, Teresa. I've written about her before, one of my earliest posts. I wish I could say I've spent more time with her the past year than I have; it's easy not to make time for her. Recently, she's been back in the hospital, twice in the past three weeks. They're poor. They're renting a home and have the bare essentials. We've been in touch lately because I can't bear the thought of her daughter not having gifts for Christmas (she's 14). What Teresa wants to get for her daughter is not excessive; it's not socks and underwear, but it's not too far removed from that. The Christmas money she had was stolen when she was admitted to the hospital last week. Barely able to speak, she called me, frantic. That part can be fixed; what can't be is Teresa's health. She's been given--her "best" case scenario--a two-year life sentence. While she was in the hospital this time, I asked her if they had a Christmas tree. Again, I'm looking at what we have, and I'm reminded of what they don't. Her reply? She had splurged on a $29 pre-lit tree (a 60% off bargain), and she was pleased--"We've come a long way from last year, last year we didn't even have one" (they were in a motel at the time). When I asked her what we could do for her, she just asked for my friendship, she needed a friend to help encourage her when she was down; she's also trying to stop smoking and asked me to hold her accountable. She's held onto that because it's the one thing in her life she can control, it's her way of "giving the finger" to her plight. I'd probably smoke, too, if I was her.
These are some of the biggies, there are other "lesser" things going on around me, lesser only in comparison, not because they aren't significant.
I'm a positive person, always looking for the good in people and circumstance. It's my modus operandi. I believe Romans 8:28 with all my heart. I believe there's an ebb and flow to life described beautifully and familiarly in Ecclesiastes 3.
But this week, I started "sinking". I figured it was due from the weight of the above, but then it occurred to me it was more than that. One year ago today, while I was visiting my father in the hospital, the doctor unexpectedly told us he was in his dying hours...that "this" was it...that he wouldn't make it to Christmas. Daddy was in good physical health, but having been diagnosed with Alzheimer's summer before last, his mental health was not good. That being said, he was fully functioning, even driving (yikes!), prior to the hospital ER giving him a dose of seroquel that his body had an adverse reaction to, leading to a chain of events that almost killed him. It appears he actually has Lewy Bodies Disease, the second most common form of dementia behind Alzheimers, but an important distinction because of the patient's likely adverse reaction to "typical" drugs used to treat the symptoms of Alzheimers.
We reeled under the news of my father's impending death, it was a shock. My sister and brother drove to meet me and his wife at the hospital, and we all had the opportunity to tell him "good-bye". Looking back, I can't help but smile, I swear we looked like a bad made-for-tv-movie, each one of us telling him the cliche things you're supposed to tell someone in these circumstances, for us, they fit (and of course, it was very personal). As the night progressed, Daddy began to improve. By improve, I mean gaining consciousness and talking out of his mind, trying desperately to carry on conversation with us, but making no sense, eventually entertaining us with his insanity and inappropriateness. We cried oceans that day; first from grief, eventually, from hilarity. A surreal day from start to finish.
That was a year ago today. He didn't die, not physically, anyway. But that would have been a much kinder fate than the year we all have endured. He has had to have 24-hour care for a year. For ten months, we had caregivers with him and his wife in their home, with my siblings and I helping as often as we could. As I've written before, I thought it a rather noble and romantic notion for parent and child to reverse roles until I lived it, but there is nothing romantic about a daughter caring for her father. I hope with all my heart he isn't aware of the indiginities he's had to suffer; at times he expressed embarrassment, but you never know how much he understands.
It has become to much for him to remain at home, even with 24-hour care. For the past two months he's been in a specialized senior mental health facility, for the purpose of regulating his behavior with meds so he would be stable enough for nursing home admittance. I can barely type that, hate doesn't begin to express how I feel about this, despising him having to do this. He would hate this. It's a horrible end of life. The mercy for him...and us...would have been for him to have died a year ago today. Death is not the worst thing that can happen sometimes.
Last night I received a despondent call from sister, then later his wife. It seems the facility wants him out TODAY and they've given us no notice. They're saying they found a place that will take him, but it's over five hours from his family, eight from me. All of a sudden everything is in fast gear and feels like it's spinning out of control and I can't do a thing about it. Their social worker told us he had been declined over a dozen times due to his behavior (he's agitated and acts out at times) or lack of beds, but his wife discovered at least two places had either not processed his paperwork, or didn't have it at all (she called to inquire herself). So either this social worker isn't doing her job or she's lying. I wish I knew the whole story, something is not adding up. In spite of a post I wrote a long, long time ago, there remains no good answer for his situation.
There are positives, at least he can afford to pay for his healthcare, something most people, I imagine, in his circumstances are not able to do. I've tried to seek God through the circumstance; I've prayed that as I come into contact with people that I wouldn't normally apart from Daddy's illness, I would reflect Christ in how I respond to them (sometimes that means I might be the only "Jesus" they ever see...). I've prayed God would continue to shape and transform ME through these crappy circumstances....
Anyway, I was already sinking before I got those calls.... I've found it "better" to be concerned about others, than to slow down and think about myself, but it catches up eventually I suppose. I've been in one of my insomnia phases, that's gotta be a contributer to my altered state of mind, too--every night for maybe a week I wake up at 3 and can't fall back asleep.... I envy those who sleep all night, lol, one of those things I've come to appreciate in my 40s, that I never knew you SHOULD appreciate...:).
It's early...still dark outside. And raining, I do love a good rain, but this morning it personifies my spirit.
Stephen will be up soon, and we're off to see Santa, creepy or not. It'll do me good, that kid is STILL so excited in spite of his new-found knowledge this year. I don't get it, but I love it.
If you read this far, and honestly, I can't imagine anyone doing so, I'm fine...I'll be fine. I don't sink long and writing it has already made me feel better. If you are a person of faith, I would appreciate your prayers for Shelton...and Sandy...and Alice...and Teresa...and their families. And, oh, yeah...for me. :)
For over a week, I've been painfully reminded that Christmas is not a happy time for many people. Perhaps in their own childhood, there was abuse or neglect, or maybe it was a simple case of parents so caught up in the trappings of the season, it held no meaning or circumstance apart from excessive materialism, which ultimiately breeds discontent. For others, perhaps loss of a loved one leaves them feeling lonely and in grief. There are a million scenarios with just as many sad circumstances, and several of these have hit very close to home.
My former pastor lost his wife this Spring to leukemia. She was also a good friend to me. Married for over 30 years, she LOVED Christmas, her home was decorated from roof to, I imagine, basement. Think Griswolds, lol. There wasn't a room in their house that didn't have some kind of Christmas icon, a gazillion Santa Clauses, which I always thought funny. She hosted parties for anyone and everyone because that fed her soul; and a tradition for me and my children was to visit them each season, mainly to look at her Christmas village. Because they had pastored for years, they had many friends in many places; everyone knew Anne loved Christmas, and whenever they were looking for a gift to give her, they'd choose a piece of this village for her. Her family must've done the same. It was the most extensive city I've ever seen before, she had more pieces than most stores who sell the stuff--MOVING pieces, too. Carousels and ice skating rinks and I think Santa with a sleigh flying around. My kids loved it, and their Christmas train, too. This will be Shelton's (and their adult children and grandchildren) first Christmas without her. He's been on my mind a lot. They were more than pastor and wife to our family, they invited us into their lives.
Then, there's Sandy and Alice. Their husbands left them last week. LAST WEEK! :( These are not close friends of mine, but they are in my "sphere" and they are friends. Between the two of them, they have six children. In one case, it's been coming for a long time; but in the other, total shock (at least publically). My heart BREAKS for these women who are dying on the inside, who don't want this to be happening, who are helpless to stop it. I'm sure they are shell-shocked and going through the motions for the sake of their children. Their children...their babies...who most certainly are not having a "merry Christmas" and will possibly be over-indulged with "things" to compensate for this loss of daddy. Maybe not, but I could see it. How could these husbands--FATHERS--leave their families NOW? Whatever happened last weekend, didn't just happen then, why couldn't they suck it up for the sake of their kids? It infuriates me and grieves me.
Similarly, we received a Christmas card from one of my dearest friends this week. It was she and her two children. Her divorce is in the final stages, and the absence of her husband in the picture was a visual reminder that her marriage is almost dead. I know my friend, I KNOW what she was thinking when that photograph was taken; I can imagine what was going through her children's minds. Their eyes bespoke sadness, I wonder if anyone else sees that.
Then there's my friend, Teresa. I've written about her before, one of my earliest posts. I wish I could say I've spent more time with her the past year than I have; it's easy not to make time for her. Recently, she's been back in the hospital, twice in the past three weeks. They're poor. They're renting a home and have the bare essentials. We've been in touch lately because I can't bear the thought of her daughter not having gifts for Christmas (she's 14). What Teresa wants to get for her daughter is not excessive; it's not socks and underwear, but it's not too far removed from that. The Christmas money she had was stolen when she was admitted to the hospital last week. Barely able to speak, she called me, frantic. That part can be fixed; what can't be is Teresa's health. She's been given--her "best" case scenario--a two-year life sentence. While she was in the hospital this time, I asked her if they had a Christmas tree. Again, I'm looking at what we have, and I'm reminded of what they don't. Her reply? She had splurged on a $29 pre-lit tree (a 60% off bargain), and she was pleased--"We've come a long way from last year, last year we didn't even have one" (they were in a motel at the time). When I asked her what we could do for her, she just asked for my friendship, she needed a friend to help encourage her when she was down; she's also trying to stop smoking and asked me to hold her accountable. She's held onto that because it's the one thing in her life she can control, it's her way of "giving the finger" to her plight. I'd probably smoke, too, if I was her.
These are some of the biggies, there are other "lesser" things going on around me, lesser only in comparison, not because they aren't significant.
I'm a positive person, always looking for the good in people and circumstance. It's my modus operandi. I believe Romans 8:28 with all my heart. I believe there's an ebb and flow to life described beautifully and familiarly in Ecclesiastes 3.
But this week, I started "sinking". I figured it was due from the weight of the above, but then it occurred to me it was more than that. One year ago today, while I was visiting my father in the hospital, the doctor unexpectedly told us he was in his dying hours...that "this" was it...that he wouldn't make it to Christmas. Daddy was in good physical health, but having been diagnosed with Alzheimer's summer before last, his mental health was not good. That being said, he was fully functioning, even driving (yikes!), prior to the hospital ER giving him a dose of seroquel that his body had an adverse reaction to, leading to a chain of events that almost killed him. It appears he actually has Lewy Bodies Disease, the second most common form of dementia behind Alzheimers, but an important distinction because of the patient's likely adverse reaction to "typical" drugs used to treat the symptoms of Alzheimers.
We reeled under the news of my father's impending death, it was a shock. My sister and brother drove to meet me and his wife at the hospital, and we all had the opportunity to tell him "good-bye". Looking back, I can't help but smile, I swear we looked like a bad made-for-tv-movie, each one of us telling him the cliche things you're supposed to tell someone in these circumstances, for us, they fit (and of course, it was very personal). As the night progressed, Daddy began to improve. By improve, I mean gaining consciousness and talking out of his mind, trying desperately to carry on conversation with us, but making no sense, eventually entertaining us with his insanity and inappropriateness. We cried oceans that day; first from grief, eventually, from hilarity. A surreal day from start to finish.
That was a year ago today. He didn't die, not physically, anyway. But that would have been a much kinder fate than the year we all have endured. He has had to have 24-hour care for a year. For ten months, we had caregivers with him and his wife in their home, with my siblings and I helping as often as we could. As I've written before, I thought it a rather noble and romantic notion for parent and child to reverse roles until I lived it, but there is nothing romantic about a daughter caring for her father. I hope with all my heart he isn't aware of the indiginities he's had to suffer; at times he expressed embarrassment, but you never know how much he understands.
It has become to much for him to remain at home, even with 24-hour care. For the past two months he's been in a specialized senior mental health facility, for the purpose of regulating his behavior with meds so he would be stable enough for nursing home admittance. I can barely type that, hate doesn't begin to express how I feel about this, despising him having to do this. He would hate this. It's a horrible end of life. The mercy for him...and us...would have been for him to have died a year ago today. Death is not the worst thing that can happen sometimes.
Last night I received a despondent call from sister, then later his wife. It seems the facility wants him out TODAY and they've given us no notice. They're saying they found a place that will take him, but it's over five hours from his family, eight from me. All of a sudden everything is in fast gear and feels like it's spinning out of control and I can't do a thing about it. Their social worker told us he had been declined over a dozen times due to his behavior (he's agitated and acts out at times) or lack of beds, but his wife discovered at least two places had either not processed his paperwork, or didn't have it at all (she called to inquire herself). So either this social worker isn't doing her job or she's lying. I wish I knew the whole story, something is not adding up. In spite of a post I wrote a long, long time ago, there remains no good answer for his situation.
There are positives, at least he can afford to pay for his healthcare, something most people, I imagine, in his circumstances are not able to do. I've tried to seek God through the circumstance; I've prayed that as I come into contact with people that I wouldn't normally apart from Daddy's illness, I would reflect Christ in how I respond to them (sometimes that means I might be the only "Jesus" they ever see...). I've prayed God would continue to shape and transform ME through these crappy circumstances....
Anyway, I was already sinking before I got those calls.... I've found it "better" to be concerned about others, than to slow down and think about myself, but it catches up eventually I suppose. I've been in one of my insomnia phases, that's gotta be a contributer to my altered state of mind, too--every night for maybe a week I wake up at 3 and can't fall back asleep.... I envy those who sleep all night, lol, one of those things I've come to appreciate in my 40s, that I never knew you SHOULD appreciate...:).
It's early...still dark outside. And raining, I do love a good rain, but this morning it personifies my spirit.
Stephen will be up soon, and we're off to see Santa, creepy or not. It'll do me good, that kid is STILL so excited in spite of his new-found knowledge this year. I don't get it, but I love it.
If you read this far, and honestly, I can't imagine anyone doing so, I'm fine...I'll be fine. I don't sink long and writing it has already made me feel better. If you are a person of faith, I would appreciate your prayers for Shelton...and Sandy...and Alice...and Teresa...and their families. And, oh, yeah...for me. :)
20 Comments:
Robin,
Yours is one of the most moving posts I have read this Christmas season. Don't apologize for it.
We ALL need to be reminded of the needs of others (real needs, not gifts and invitations to parties, fun though those things are. . .)
I will pray right now for all these needs and for you, my friend.
Jesus reminded his disciples:
"In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world."
Take heart. Jesus, the One Who came as a Babe, has overcome the World.
Robin, Christmas is not a fun time when things are not perfect.
I am sorry you are hurting.
Robin, I do hope you have a very Merry Christmas. I'm sorry to hear of your friends and of your family trials. It can be tough. Just so you don't feel completely selfish for thinking of yourself, there's a great verse in 1Tim 4:16. While it does deal with doctrine, your own, there's a lesson there that can be applied to what you're taking upon yourself with respect to others' burdens.
We ought to care about others. But just as they cannot necessarily carry the entire weight of their own burdens, neither can you take upon yourself your own as well as their burdens. This is also why we're to cast our cares and anxieties upon Christ. It's too much for even you. Offer your ear, a shoulder, etc. See if there's anything you can do and help with. Open up your home, as I'm sure you'd be willing to do. And of course sincerely offer up prayer. Apart from these things, what else can you really do? Don't destroy yourself in the process of helping others. It will consume you. I know. I've done that over the years. I've done the JOY thing (Jesus first, others second and yourself last). But it's not entirely biblical. You must care for yourself and be in a position to "recharge" yourself or you'll hit empty. This is what happened to me this past summer. And we both know where I've landed.
Sometimes when we are feeling low about ourselves or about things in our lives, it acts as a diversion to focus on others who perhaps have things worse. But if we don't take care of those things in our own lives, they can fester, grow and do great harm to us and to those around you.
I'm sure you know all of this. Enjoy your time with your family and don't stress over what you cannot change. God is still God and he is still sovereign no matter what the chaos or pain.
Take care and thank you for sharing this post with us. You're awesome!!!
-Mike
Robin, I wish there was something I could say that would make things better, but really, there isn't. I just offer you a big hug across the miles...
I'm so sorry. I'm sending you hope for peace and light.
Of course I will pray for you guys! I am sorry to hear that you have been so stressed lately. I hope that the weight lifts from your shoulders, and that you can enjoy Christmas.
I just sent you an e-mail. I think it says it all....
Merry Christmas, Robin. I love you.
Written like a true melancholy. Feeling another's pain is at the heart of the Baby in the manger, isn't it? He came to FEEL our pain, and to make it GONE... eventually.
Praying for His grace to extend through you and to uphold you as you interact with these friends and family members.
(((((HUGS)))))
I'll be thinking of you and praying for you, Robin. This post was truly moving.
I have stories, too. I feel as low as you do....just can't get into the spirit of things. I'm up at 3, too, and can't fall back to sleep. We should form the 3am club. I can't write any of my stories on my blog - I got blasted recently by a close relative for writing personal stuff - so I have to keep it general. It is so not me - I am an open book. cheer up, and I will try to do the same.
Hey guys, quick check in...things are b u s y, as I'm sure they are in your corners of the universe...
I'm on dial up for a few days and won't be reading or replying until later...but in the meantime...thank you...your thoughts and prayers mean much.
praying...
Mary
You must have written this in the wee hours when you couldn't sleep. Whew! A lot going on, friend. I can relate... long story. Short version: My mother died of diabetes.
Anyhoo, yes, I think everyone ponders the half-empty cup at Christmas, when it's "supposed" to be full to overflowing. Those bottom-out feelings do pass eventually. And then the half-full attitude takes precedence again. I pray your mood is on the upswing soon... and try to get some sleep!
Blessings and enjoy your weekend. It'll be good. You'll make it so. (Thanks Picard!) :~)
We are praying that God will comfort you and those you mention, as only He can.
Blessings, and peace.
I've just had an opportunity to read this - I'm at Kar's. Her computer is having some kind of virus.. so it's almost like bing in slo-mo The only thing fast is my fingers.
I felt anger towards the care facility to give you a Christmas eviction notice. What in the world.
As for all the other stuff - if you could just not care - then you wouldn't ever have to hurt for anyone else.
But then you wouldn't be who you are and be doing the thing that God intended you to do ---
and speaking "LIFE" into others means you have to take part in their pain.
Thinking of you -- and the people you love.
(ps. I feel so small when I think about how I cried over a tooth)
You might not see this, it was 4 days ago that you posted, and I've been out of it physically. But I want you to know I am praying. I've been praying for you, your family & your father & I will continue to do so.(does the ombudsman have any impact?)
I'll be praying for your friends. God does not forget us, though we think He does, when it is dark and we have many questions. I will pray for rest for you all.
Yes, I did read it all. Prayers are going out.
I've read this at least four times now, and I want to thank you for bringing home some reality. I was going crazy trying to make Bethany's first Christmas so...whatever nutty fantasy first time moms strive for. And she'll never even remember it.
And it WAS an embarrassment of riches, which I knew it would be since she is the cherished long-awaited granddaughter everyone wanted and prayed for for so long.
We're all (thank You, God) healthy this year. We're all (thank you, God) employed this year.
I told Matthew about this post, and I mentioned to him how every parent wants so much more for their child than they had, but they don't want the child to grow up taking it for granted. We talked about how maybe we need to volunteer more, do something to set an example for Bethany and to let her know how blessed she is as she grows up.
You, my dear, are setting a beautiful example just by being a friend and companion and by praying.
I think you are an awesome mom.
Mary, emom, Kevin, Pamela, LCO, Kila and Stephanie, I'm just now getting back to this, doubt you'll even check back in...but thanks for reading, and responding to me. It means a lot, you know (as a blogger) that I mean that!:)
Yvonne, I'm still praying for you, and want to continue the "conversation"...soon.
Stephanie, your words filled my tank. More soon, I'm being called away....!
Checking back in (with Bethany in my lap, "Dah-dah-dah-gee-gee-gah!"). Always here to support a sister!!
Post a Comment
<< Home