It's Saturday....

It's Saturday.  The day before Sunday.  Today, most people will be running errands, working in the yard, spending time with family, or doing a myriad of mindless tasks to check off their lists.  For me and my family, this is the day before Sunday.  Before the Sunday that changed our lives forever.  So, a year ago, we rose early, went to the hospital, sat vigil at the side of my daddy in ICU, welcomed guests, giving hugs and weak smiles and hoping to make them feel appreciated for their visit, all the while longing to be sitting vigil by his side.  We talked to each other in hushed whispers, made phone calls to give updates, and held on to hope. That Friday changed everything, as we left for a quick lunch at Carey Hilliards, urging him to drink his protein shake and that we would see him in just a few minutes. What a shock to get a phone call from Casey, "hurry, please.  I don't know what's wrong with dad.  I need you."  Rushing upstairs, the man that we gave quick kisses and admonishes about eating to was no longer there, replaced with someone talking incoherently and agitated. When the doctors came in on Friday and put him on that ventilator, we hoped to believe them when they said that it was only going to give his body a chance to rest, to not fight so hard, to recoup.  When the kidney doctor came in with that big dialysis machine, we hoped to believe it would only be temporary. We hoped to believe them when they said there was a chance he would be able to come off all of it.  We hoped to believe them when they said they've had patients stay on them for two weeks, and still come out of it and recover. We hoped to believe and only heard what we wanted to hear.  We approved those things with the hope to make him better not knowing it would be the beginning of the end.  With a fear in his eyes that I'll never forget, I sang "glory glory hallelujah" to my daddy as they sedated him on that ventilator.  Hoping and not yet knowing that would be the last time I would ever see his eyes.  Hoping he knew how much I loved him.  How much I desperately needed him to get better.  Naively, we spoke of the ventilator and dialysis as a good thing.  A chance for him to rest.  To give his body a break.  Naively, we were relieved that there was a break from his struggle.  Naively, we were comforted by the stillness of his body and the higher numbers on the monitors, showing his oxygen levels and breathing to be stable.  We didn't even realize that we would never see his body move again.  It was the beginning of the end and yet, we focused on the positive, not even realizing that death was only two days away.

Its Saturday.  It's been 364 days since my daddy died.  This time last year, we still didn't know that it was our last full day of normalicy.  I stayed home that morning, resting and spending time with Rhett.  It was a pretty uneventful day.  This vitals were stable, normal even.  We ate lunch with our family at Applebee's.  I brought Rhett to the hospital.  He watched The Wiggles with Aunt Michelle 100 times and provided some much needed entertainment in the waiting room.  There was another family there.  Their father was about the same age as daddy and had complication from a heart procedure.  I remember listening to them talk about him getting better.  I was resentful and yet happy that they didn't have the same suffering that we did.  People came and went.  Same weak smiles, hugs all around, half listening to their stories, half dead brained and numb.  We left early that Saturday night.  He was stable the nurses said.  They would call if something changed.  Go rest.  He's in good hands.  Kisses on his cheek, "I love you daddy." I drove mama home, how, I don't know, as we were both in a dense fog that I'm not yet sure has lifted. 

Sunday we get up and get dressed.  Another day at the hospital.  A phone call from the nurse ~ "you can come on up if you want."  What does that mean?  Another race to Savannah, with the flashers on.  Here we go on that roller coaster again.  I don't remember alot about Sunday morning after our meeting with Dr. Bottner, a sweet but blunt cardiologist on call.  He brought us into that little room I had grown to hate.  We hear "his body is shutting down.  Kidney failure.  Heart failure.  Not going to get better.  Vegetable state. Your choice is to leave him like this or to cut the machines now.  Nothing will save him.  Nothing will make him better. We've done all we can.  His body is too weak for the fight.  Too much fluid.  He is drowning.  I'm so sorry.  What would you like to do?"  What would we like to do?!?!?  We would like to not be having this conversation.  We'd like for him to open his eyes.  We'd like for this to be a bad dream.  We'd like to take him home now.  But those are not our choices.  Our choices are to let him live or help him die.  It's probably not really like that, but that's how it felt.  How could we choose to turn off those machines?  How could we choose to end his life?  I know all the while, he wasn't waking up.  It was a matter of time.  We were helping him not to suffer.  Rationally, I know all of this.  At the time, there is no rational, only pure, raw emotion, that rocks your body to the core, physically and otherwise.  My grandparents, his parents, weren't even there yet.  How long do we have?  Not very long.  Ok.  It seemed like they were asking something as inane as would you like paper or plastic...except this was life or death.  By now, you know the choice and it's not something I can really even talk about for somewhere deep inside, it still feels like we chose to kill him.  Again, rationally, I know it's not so and I don't need for everyone to tell me such, but it's my raw human emotion, the kind you know isn't true, but you can't help but feel. 

So, Sunday morning while the majority of our friends were in their respective church services, praying, lifting hands, worshipping, listening to a sermon, thinking about lunch, we all gathered in a small hospital room and listened the heart stop of the man we loved more than life itself. It was almost too cruel to hear that monitor beep, beep, beep, slower, slower, slower, then one big breath, then...nothing.  One by one, people left.  Cousins, aunts, uncles...I don't even remember who all was there that day.  It was almost scary how quickly the change from his living body to his dead body took place. And in those moments where our hearts almost audibly broke in two pieces, his was restored.  While our lives were torn in half, his was put back together, healed, and brought to the living God for a complete wholeness to which we will never know until we too, have that experience.  I couldn't watch that transformation from life to death and had to leave the room, yet couldn't bear the thought of leaving my daddy, which left me collapsed on the floor outside his room, not knowing what to do next.  How do we leave him here?  Where do we go after all of this time spent at the hospital?  What are we supposed to do for the rest of this day, what we thought would be another day of vigil?  The rest of this day, this week, this year?  What to do now? 

What we did was nothing short of pure survival.  We planned a funeral. I wrote the obituary for the paper.  We were shocked by the number of people who came to love on us at the visitation and the burial site.  The names and the faces of these people are continuously in my mind and we speak of them often.  "Do you remember so and so coming?"  "I saw his name in the book, but I don't remember seeing him."  Or, "wow, they came all the way from ____ for us."  I didn't know if that line on Tuesday night would ever end and in a strange way, I didn't want it to.  What a testament to my daddy and our family that we would be loved on so completely.  It was a very real way of God pouring his love out on us when we needed it. 

In the days, weeks, and months to follow, we have been stretched, pulled, bent, and tried, but we have survived.  It hasn't been ideal nor in the way that people thought we might have reacted, but it's the way we have chosen to fight, to survive.  I believe that God has shown us an extraordinary measure of grace and love.  In Matthew, it says "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."  And, I believe we have experienced that comfort.  Sometimes it is hard, especially when we feel the expectation of others, but we must keep our minds focused on the fact that this has been our cross to bear.  This is the path that God has chosen for us and no one else will be able to understand our unique path because it is not their own.  Even our own individual paths are different ~ I react to situations differently from my mom, my brother, my grandparents, or aunts and uncles because each of us was touched by daddy in a different way.  To me, he was a wonderful daddy, to my mom, her helpmate, her best friend, to my grandparents, a literal piece of them that is missing, my aunts and uncles, he was a brother, a friend, a constant.  So, we each have a different reaction, but are yet united in grief and our intense love for him.  It binds us like never before and makes us even more grateful and appreciative for those in our own lives.  It has been an unbearable year, but we have survived.  We have made it.  We are stronger and closer than ever before.  And we will continue to grow as we travel this path laid out before us.  I will never understand why we were chosen for this task, but I do know one thing.  I know that if he could bear witness to our journey, my daddy would be so proud of each of us as we have perservered through this dark, mostly uphill journey with strength, grace, poise, and determination.  And even if there are bumps along the way, we know we will make it and keep going, because really, not going forward it not a viable option.  So, forward we go, as we pause this weekend to honor the life of a beautiful man and each other's long journeys, and then keep walking this road, together and united in our fight and love for the Lord, daddy, and each other. 

Before and After

I had pretty much given up on blogging until now.  There was just too much to say and not the words to say it as we continue to learn how to live without the anchor of our family.  We are doing well and working things out.  We have good days and bad days, but continue to improve each day.  But, that's not what we're here to talk about.  That is not the reason I decided to come back to the blogging world. 

The reason I came back here was blatent, all-out, bragging.  I needed an outlet to brag on myself a little, so I chose the most obvious one, the blog world.  So, thanks in advance for allowing me some self-indulgence. 

This year, we returned to Athens for football season and have so far, had a great time.  As I was posting pictures from yesterday, I was looking through pictures from last year and was shocked to actually see the difference in myself in just a year.  I know I have worked very hard to get back in shape over the past year, but to see the results is amazing, if I do say so myself.  The difference is 40 lbs.  See for yourself:



2009



2010





People ask me all the time what I've done to get these results.  I have done the elliptical, pilates, and revamped my eating habits, but not too consistently over the past two years.  This fall, I'm incorporating interval training in order to hopefully run a 5K in December before our family goes on a cruise for Christmas.  If it's something I can do, it'll be one of my most proud accomplishments.  These results give me the motivation to keep going.  Who knows what next year might bring.  If it's another 20 lbs. lost, then bring it on!





"Jesus Bring the Rain"

One of the most often asked questions that I get asked as a Christian is 'how do you know when the Lord is speaking to you?' and it is one that I have even asked myself.  Sometimes, it's a book that someone has loaned me that speaks directly to my soul, other times it's when I'm having a  conversation with someone else that I hear his voice, and sometimes it's just the feeling of peace that passes all understanding in the bottom of my soul that I know can only come from Him.  Once about 10 years ago, a dear friend of mine told me that God speaks directly to her by giving her rainbows.  Every time she is struggling with something, God will show her a rainbow to let her know that He is still with her.  I thought that was cool and begin to wonder how exactly God showed himself to me in a direct and consistent way.  What I discovered was that He always gives me one song that ministers directly to my heart. 

That one song becomes an anthem of sorts, that I can listen to over and over again, bringing comfort and peace to know God is in control.  When I was going through a bad breakup, it was 'Landslide,' by Stevie Nicks (I didn't say it was always a 'Christian' song!).  When my dad as in the hospital five years ago, it was 'Voice of Truth,' by Mercy Me.  And when my parents were in Texas, it was 'Peace' by Jennifer Knapp.  After I had Rhett, I would sing the old hymns to him at bedtime, lulling him to sleep and bringing peace to my tired body and mind with 'Glory, Glory Hallelujah," "Amazing Grace," and "At The Cross."

I can't explain how I know one song is given to me from the Lord for a time such as this, but I just know.  Since my daddy passed away, I have heard many, many songs on the radio from christian and secular stations, but most cause me to turn the station, bringing tears of sorrow from the grief and mourning in my heart.  This morning, though...this morning...I received it.  My song from the Lord.  The one that speaks peace deep into my heart.  The one that strengthens my faith.  The one that I can stand on as a voice of truth amid a sea of emotions that come from the grief of losing my daddy.  It's not a new song...but it's new to me. 

So, without further adeu, I give you "Jesus, Bring the Rain," from Mercy Me as a testament that God still speaks to His children and that He provides for our every need:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m17af0XmPFo&feature=related.

I hope it speaks to you as it has to me.  If not though, don't worry.  God probably has a different way for you.  Keep your eyes open ~ you don't want to miss the blessing He has in store!

Walking in the Shadow...

To say this has been the darkest part of my life would be an understatement.  It will be a week ago tomorrow since my daddy passed away and I still have no words to describe how I feel or how we are functioning.  I wish I had the ability to write something profound or inspirational, but right now I barely have the words to say 'I'm okay' and mean it. 

I miss my daddy.  I miss hearing his voice on the phone and his truck in the drive.  I miss his laugh when he rolls around on the floor with Rhett.  I miss feeling his hugs and his 'love you em' before I leave the house.  His yard shoes still sit by the door and his cross still hangs in the bathroom.  Everything I do reminds me of him, or should I say, the absence of him.  I see the pain in the eyes of my brother and the sadness in the eyes on my mom and know that they are mirroring my own.  I watch my husband try to be everything to everyone, all the while wishing he could take the pain away.  I hear everyone telling me that it'll take time and to call them if I need anything, but I can't even figure out what I need to be able to tell them.  The only thing I need is him...nothing else will make this any easier, but that's not an option.  He is the only one who didn't ask anything of me, expect me to be anything, other than who I am in his eyes.  I didn't have to give anything to daddy except my love and I didn't have to be strong for him because he was always strong for me.

A week ago, I watched them put daddy on a ventilator to breath for him.  At that point, I thought I knew where this was going and tried to prepare myself.  But, nothing can prepare you for watching your daddy take his last breaths and then see the rigor or death set in.  While it was difficult seeing his body lying there, absent of life, it was strangely comforting too.  It was so obvious that the body lying there in the bed was no longer him, but just the outer shell of the man in my heart.  I grieve the loss of a wonderful man, but he is no longer there in that cemetary, but he is walking with the Lord, which brings me great peace and joy in my heart.  I do not think Daddy would choose to come back here to us, because he is in a perfect place.  Rather, he would wish we could join him instead.

While I hurt and my heart is breaking, I still have the peace that passes all understanding in this situation.  I believe that daddy was sick far longer than we realized, but he didn't want to burden us with his pain.  I believe that his suffering was too unbearable and his body could no longer cope with the burden of living, which was exacerbated by the pneumonia that eventually led to his death.  I believe that God called him to heaven for a reason, which is not mine to question, but instead trust in His plans and know that He only wants the best for me.  I believe that Daddy now dwells in the shadows of the Lord Almighty and is walking the banks of the lakes with Jesus.  I know he is now experiencing the fullness of Jesus Christ and I am joyful for his sake.  I also believe that God's hand is upon us, as we grieve and learn how to create a new kind of normal.  We can feel his presence and the prayers of his people.  We trust that He is going to do things in our lives that are far greater than we could ever imagine.  We hope that God would be glorified in this situation and that when people see us, they would see the Holy Spirit's covering upon us. 

God never said it would be easy, but he did say to trust in Him and it would be worth it.  So, while we walk through the shadow of death in this season of our lives, we will fear no evil for he is with us.  He is our comforter and our deliverer.  We are leaning against him to find our peace, our refuge, and our strength. 


Psalms 34:15-18
"The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their cry;
The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles.
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Psalms 91:1-2

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."

Isaiah 41:10
"So do not fear, for I am with you;

do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

John 14:1-3
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am."

Romans 8:38-39
"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

 

 

It's My Blog Birthday!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, MOONBEAMS AND DAYDREAMS!

I guess it's technically an anniversary, but I think birthdays are much more fun...because they involve cupcakes, icing, and sprinkles.  And, I missed the actual date of my first blog, which was a year ago on 2/9/09, but this will have to do. 

So here we are...one year and 48 posts later!  I started this as a place to leave my thoughts, share some insights and maybe a little inspiration.  Along the way, I have met new friends, gained a few followers, and learned so much about myself.  And you have too!  You've read about my life, including my struggle with weight loss, my adventures as a new mommy, my collected memories from the past, and the things that the Lord has shown me along the way, and you've enduring the endless pictures of my adorable son! 

I hope you have enjoyed (or at least endured) this blog as much as I have.  For me, writing is much like therapy, allowing me to get my thoughts out of my head and onto paper (or on the screen, in this case), where I can leave them.  More than anything, I hope that my transparency and honesty here has made a small difference in someone else's life because it sure has made a difference in mine!

So, happy birthday blog!  Blow out your candles and make a wish...

Finding Rest...

Lately, God has been tugging at my heartstrings as he has been drawing me back to him.  Not that I ever 'left' him, but in the busy-ness of life, I have allowed my time and relationship with him to get pushed to the back.  I neglected my prayer life, my quiet times, and my bible study and my heart has suffered the consequences.  So, in the spirit of the new year, I have tried to reprioritize my life and make time for these things again.  Granted, I've only been doing this for two days, but my heart and my spirit are already so refreshed!  This morning's passage in my little devotional is so great, I couldn't wait to share it.  And when I saw that it came from one of my very favorite writers, Eugenia Price, I knew the Lord had given me a very sweet kiss this morning.  So, here you go:

 Jesus said:  "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." ~ Matt. 11:28-29

"Here lies the source of the rest He offers:  If we come just as we are, He will welcome us.  Spiritual fatigue, a burdened heart, the ugly mess we make of our lives, causes us to long for rest - any kind of rest from the inner and outer tensions against which we struggle.  To expect such a troubled spirit to improve itself, to untangle its own problems, is as impossible as to expect a man with two broken legs to sprint.

God offers the kind of inner rest that releases the energy we need to change out inadequacies to adequacies.  I have never known anyone who could do the job alone.  Jesus must have seen it this way.  Otherwise He would not have extended His inclusive invitation to all those who were in particular need of rest.

Two things are necessary for us:  we must see our need and we must come.  The rest is up to God.  And He can move into action on our behalf much more swiftly if we come - just as we are.  Making no excuses, offering no explanations of how we got this way, but only expecting Him to act - not according to OUR idea of One who sits in judgement - rather, as He is...a God of love. 

If we come as we are, expecting God to be there waiting for us as He is, we see at once that we are not the determining factor.  God is."

~ Eugenia Price

I pray that you will know that kind of rest today...the kind of rest in your soul that allows you to crawl into your heavenly Father's lap and cast all your cares and troubles upon Him.  He will then give you the energy and the strength to face it all with a peace that passes all understanding, as you trust in Him.

Go ahead...Make My Day!

So, other than spending a great 30th birthday with my wonderful family, here are a couple of things that happened that just made my day!

1.  I went to a Golddigger's jewelry party on a whim today.  I traded two bracelets for $245 and still kept the diamonds.  The thing about this is that we have pay our property taxes at the end of the month and have been about $300 off the mark...God is cool like that.

2.  I FINALLY got all of my itunes songs, and more importantly, my workout playlist, loaded onto my blackberry.  This is huge for me, because I've been trying to do this for WEEKS, and now I can go to the gym anytime without having to work out a schedule with the hubs for the ipod.

3.  The City of Savannah announced this week that they are beginning an amnesty program for people who have unpaid parking tickets.  If you know me well, you know why that made my day!  I don't know how much $$ I have racked up parking fines, but I'd be willing to bet that I'm on the naughty list for this one.

4.  I happened to drive by the house that I grew up in today and noticed some firetrucks down the street, so I decided to investigate.  Long story short, the city is burning down the houses on that block to make room for a park, supposedly.  I talked the firemen into letting me take a look around and man, was that like stepping back into a time machine!  It looked SO much smaller than I remember.  I certainly don't remember living in a small box and it seems like we had a lot of stuff back then, so I'm not sure how my mom made it work, but she did.  I'm pretty sure my bedroom was supposed to be closet, but looking back, I don't remember it being small at all.  I remember my daybed with the trundle that my cousin, Penny slept on almost every weekend.  I remember my white dresser with the white eyelet lamp shade and the flowers my daddy gave me once.  I remember the hanging closet in the corner b/c the room didn't have one.  I remember looking out the window and watching my dad work in his shop and laying in bed and watching T.V. through the mini blinds at night.  So, although it was teeny tiny, the most important thing is that our parents made it work and we never realized how cramped it really was because we were too busy having a wonderful childhood. 

It was very sad to see my childhood home being ripped apart, board by board.  I walked through and remembered running around, playing chase with my brother, climbing into my parents bed at night (the wood paneling was still on the walls!), sitting at the bar doing my homework and watching my mom iron, and riding our bikes up and down the sidewalk.  It was a great place to live and I have many, many fond memories of that place.  I walked out with tears in my eyes (I'm pretty sure those firemen thought I was a little looney), and looking up and down the street, I saw one of our old neighbors, Mrs. Thompson, who lived two doors down.  I remember her being old then, but she hadn't aged much at all.  She was so surprised to see me and had tears in her eyes as she told me about her grandson T.J., who was one of my best friends growing up, living in California and how lonely she is without him.  She told me all about her bad day at the doctor's office, her frustration with getting older, and all the changes that had happened in the old neighborhood.  I'm pretty sure that I made her week, maybe her month, just by stopping by and saying hi.  While it was very sad to think about my old home being burnt to the ground, I was very humbled to have the opportunity to take one more walk through and share some memories with a jewel of a lady who was like another grandmother to me.  The irony of getting to do so on my 30th birthday wasn't lost on me, either. It was like God just chose to sprinkle me with blessings, for which I am extremely grateful.

So, I guess the first day of my 30's was pretty great.  I'm looking forward to the weekend for more celebrating with hubs and the rest of my family as well.  And, to say that I'm blessed beyond measure would be the understatement of the year!  :)