Bitter Sweet

My mom is dead. She died early Monday morning. Dad and I took her into Emerg on Saturday evening because she was having stomach pain - which escalated as the evening progressed. The doc admitted her and Dad and I stayed with her until after 11. She'd get a little short of breath and panic and then hyperventilate. She'd forget to breathe through her nose, where the oxygen was and it'd take awhile to talk her down. Dad and I finally went home. She called Dad in again and he stayed until 5 am at which point she sent him home.
Sunday after Mass, I stopped by. She was more comfortable, but she had some pain in her back that the meds just weren't touching. I rubbed it for the longest time. I emptied her commode for her at her request - she didn't want to inconvenience the nurses. I talked to her doctor about her depression. He told me not to underestimate how sick my mother was. I truly didn't think I was. She wanted to die, but I didn't think that her systems were ready for that yet. She asked me if I'd phoned Donald, or Allan and I said I would. I told her that we needed to talk about arrangements and what not and she said there's no hurry. This wasn't going to be "IT" and she was going to come home tomorrow. I said I'd be back that evening and I left when everyone showed up. That evening I played and read with the kids, had a bath and went to bed early. I didn't go back. I was going in the next day. I thought I had more time.
Dad phoned me at 5:30am. The nurse had checked Mom at 4:45 and she was resting easy. At 5:05 the IV alarm went off and she went into check and Mom was gone.
This week has been awful. I asked God for a consolation. And looking back He's given so many. I just didn't recognize them at the time. Dad was upset that Mom died alone - God showed me that He was there with her. I've had so many prayers offered, so many offers of help, so much food brought to me. I am so close to my Dad right now - something that's never happened before. And I'm pregnant. I'm so grateful - but I'm so sad to think of this pregnancy without Mom. This newborn without Mom. She's always been there before.
Tomorrow is the funeral. I'm delivering the eulogy, which I'll post later. God grant me the grace to do this well. To do justice to Mom. Of course, for Your Glory always. I'm so sorry for my doubt, for my anger. "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief".

The Betta is Dead!

We have hosted many pet fish. We had an exceptionally long lived gold fish, who we named Uber Fish, because no matter the neglect, he refused to die. But eventually he did and is now resting under my rose bush (which, incidentally, has done exceptionally well. Coincidence? I think not).
Last year, Becca prevailed upon us to get her a fish. She was going to be very responsible and she was. But this week saw the passing on of Rainbow. Which she handled with some sorrow, but was remarkably resigned.
Now she's campaigning for a lizard, or a snake. She's being very helpful and very pleasant. Which is very good. Will I really have to reward this behaviour with something that eats live bugs? Please spare me. What patron saint to I appeal to?

Persistance

Monday evening was spent waiting. First waiting for Justin to come home, so that I could take Alexander to the hospital, then waiting in the hospital waiting room, and then waiting for a verdict.
Our poor giraffe was close to dehydration. The verdict was returned that he wasn't dehydrated yet, but close. In order to learn this, they had to take blood. I thought we'd be in trouble and there'd be a fight. Xander is notoriously stubborn. But instead he was exceptionally brave. The reward offered to him for this bravery was a choice between two Ty Beanie Baby Bears. This was not what he wanted and no amount of cajoling was going to convince him that a bear would do. He had heard someone mention stickers in passing and he had set his mind and will on stickers. Which he finally got.
I know that someday his persistence will be a boon. It will serve him well. He will not be easily swayed by world influences. He will be his own man as he is his own boy now.
But sometimes I wish for just a wee bit more compliance. For example, when we had to give him a Gravol. Suppository.

Preparing for Advent

History does repeat itself. Quite frequently, in fact. Take for example Christ the King last year. We were sick. That's how we began the new liturgical year and this year seems no different. Even similar viruses. Last year we braved the weather (-32 C) and drove to Edmonton for the Feast of Christ the King. We did this despite the ominous signs that something viral was headed our way. Justin had been soooo sick just 3 days before. I optimistically figured that no one was going to get it if we hadn't been sick yet. How wrong I was. Patrick was ignominiously sick in the bathroom of the very nice hotel where dinner was hosted. And then again on the way home. And the next day. Then it was Xander, then Rebecca, then Matthew (all 2 months of him - that was very scary), then me and then my Mom, who had so bravely nursed the last of us. This took us to two weeks before Christmas.
So this year, I had planned on attending the Feast, giving a real good week to school and then the remainder of Advent spent readying our home and hearts for the arrival of Baby Jesus. And here we are again, sick. God, I don't know what You're trying to tell me, but I wish I'd get the message sooner than later.

Things I Won't Do For Money

The other day, as I was plucking some disgusting item off of the garbage can, it occurred to me that there are things that I would not do if people paid me. These things include :

1. Changing poopy bums.
2. Scraping a sample of the above into a small receptacle and delivering sample to the doctor.
3. Cleaning up vomit.
4. Cleaning up vomit or otherwise soiled bedding in the middle of the night and offering comfort and a smile.
5. Sharing my bed with a rotating number of people who snore, punch, kick, push, drool or leak.
6. Clean up "mystery" messes.

I can't imagine the circumstances that would induce me to perform the above for money. I will, however, do them for love. Occasionally, I even get a gooey kiss and hug out of it. There is nothing quite like a snuggle from some wee warm body who thinks you can fix everything, to put it all into perspective.

Amen!

Slaying Dragons

This is a valley of suffering, I know. But isn't that reserved for others? For some reason (irrational reason) I thought that God leveled the scales and if you suffered so much here in your life then later on your suffering would be minor. Trust me, I know how irrational that is, and yet there it is. I didn't even know that I thought that until a month ago.
My mom has cancer.
She is very sick.
This disease has laid her body low. She doesn't even have the energy to read. My mom, who always has at least 2 books on the go, isn't reading.
Looking back on the past 6 months, it is evident that something was wrong. A day of shopping would wear her out. She had to rest more and towards the end of summer she spent most of her days laying on the couch, spent by a simple task. The doctors were dismissive. They said that it was old age, a lung infection, a bad cold. My mom in turn, took them at their word and didn't want to be a burden on the health system. She didn't persist. Finally, Dad and I insisted and took her to the emergency department. I went in with her, intent on fighting for her. But a new doctor took her at her word, took a thorough history, ordered x-rays and a CT scan. And it's cancer. I think Mom was shocked the most by the verdict. She thought that she would "feel sicker if it was cancer". But that has come.
There are so many people who care and that's so touching. There are those who mean to help, but their very help is painful. Telling me that it's better if she goes fast, it's easier on everyone. That the average lung cancer patient can expect one year at the outside. One person said I was lucky to have the 10 years with my mom that she didn't have with hers. Maybe I am, but I just want my mom. She's one of my bestest friends and I just want her to get better, so that we can be like we used to be.
I know that I need to see this as an opportunity. For her and Dad to grow closer to God. For me to grow closer to God. I know that this an opportunity to accept God's Will and to know that He is in control, and that His plan is the best. But I can't tonight. Tonight I just want to fight. To be angry and sad.
Tomorrow, I'll be brave and accepting. I will give it all back to God, again. And again and again. But tonight it's mine and I will nurse all this pain and have a real cry.

We suffer on account of God’s patience. And yet, we need his patience. God, who became a lamb, tells us that the world is saved by the Crucified One, not by those who crucified him. The world is redeemed by the patience of God. It is destroyed by the impatience of man.It is really so: the purpose of our lives is to reveal God to men. And only where God is seen does life truly begin. Only when we meet the living God in Christ do we know what life is. We are not some casual and meaningless product of evolution. Each of us is the result of a thought of God. Each of us is willed, each of us is loved, each of us is necessary. There is nothing more beautiful than to be surprised by the Gospel, by the encounter with Christ. There is nothing more beautiful than to know Him and to speak to others of our friendship with Him. The task of the shepherd, the task of the fisher of men, can often seem wearisome. But it is beautiful and wonderful, because it is truly a service to joy, to God’s joy which longs to break into the world."
-Pope Benedict XVI - Inaugural Address

Control

Life is a bit more hectic these days then it normally is. Periodically, I feel waves of panic splash over the brim, only to subside with my usual nonchalance. Actually, I hope that it's my trust that's stretching it's muscles. When I begin to feel overwhelmed it's because I feel a decided lack of control. This is an opportunity to remember that I'm not in control. God is and if I just trust him things are fine.
We went to Mass on our way to Medicine Hat, at a mission church in Bentley. The pastor was a priest from Nigeria and he told us about a bug called the Wee-wee. It's an edible bug with lots of protein and when it is very young it clings to the tree so hard that if you try to pull it off, you will break the bug in half. When it matures and is full of itself, all you have to do is stand underneath the tree and call "wee-wee" and it falls to the ground. "Lord, let me not be full of me, but instead cling to you so hard that I might break before I let go."

Pass Words

Our everyday lives have become littered with passwords. It takes me forever to get into my blog account because I cannot remember my password. I need a password for my phone messages, for any shopping I do online, for my banking, for my magazines, and it goes on and on. It's not the needing that drives me bawanas, it's the remembering. I'm lucky if I can remember if I had breakfast. But so far I don't need a password to hug my children, kiss my husband or pet my dog. I think I'm gonna snuggle now.

There! Did it!

We moved. It was an incredibly sanctifing journey. We packed and moved. We packed some more and moved some more. Finally we panicked, packed and moved as the date to be out of our old house loomed ever closer.
Now I'm unpacking boxes that lay arranged around our new house, forming rabbit warrens. There's a remote possibility that we will be found crushed by stuff. I had beautiful resolutions to pack the boxes in a logical organized manner. Those resolutions lasted up until the panic.
I've lived quite happily without most of the stuff within those boxes and if it weren't for those few things I really need, I'd throw them out. But I really, really need my phone book. Oh and those bottles of wine I stocked up on. And somewhere there's a lid for my teapot(I hope).

Our Ninny

Today you are 6. You are tall and strong. You are compassionate and funny. You are the most generous child I know. If someone is sad you make it your mission to make things better, even if it means giving up your last candy. The other night when your 4 year-old brother had a night time accident, you helped him get dressed and cleaned up. Listening to you was so sweet. You were so gentle and kind. I love you so much my Patrick. Happy Birthday.

Productivity - Thy Name is...

Matthew. Just one of my little productivity enhancers. The work I accomplish in a day cannot be measured. The number of loads of laundry I've washed, dried and folded; the floors I've swept; the meals I've prepared; the dishes I've washed - they just don't matter. In 10 years they're not what I'll remember. It's the time I spend with my children. That's what I'll remember and maybe they will too. Lord, I pray that I remember this lesson.

Happy Father's Day

You are such a great father to our children. I love the way you play with them and the way you laugh about what they say and do. It's so great to share these everyday, extraordinary events with you. We really had no clue all those years ago where this would lead. It's been so good. And although things may get bumpy ahead I couldn't have asked for anyone better to see it through. I'm so glad that God looks after the details! Happy Father's day, honey. You're the B-E-S-T.

Moving is Good for the Soul - really

Moving is good for the soul. Really. It is. Okay, so I'm not convinced. We are certainly moving so I'd better find something beneficial in it.
Truly, I must say it is very good to declutter and I'm doing that in a big way. Please don't tell my kids. If they only knew what I've tossed (the little pack rats). Their reaction would probably be similar to mine if I only knew what Justin has tossed! There is an urgency to declutter, when given a deadline to meet that truly decreases one's attachment to material things. Maybe that's how I need to view my life of grace - as something more urgent. I give lip service; but how convinced am I? A change in attitude would permit a growth in detachment and a focus on what's really important. If I only knew the deadline!

Poof!

Alexander is constantly running out of pants. This is due mostly to a bit of fastidiousness that runs in his veins. The slightest smear or the smallest drop of water can touch his clothing and instantly it is dirty and is discarded. You can follow his movements through the house by the trail of clothing. Yesterday, we were on our way to Mass and I insisted that he put on pants. To which he responded "they're all gone, Mama. Poof! They just disappeared!" How do you not laugh in the face of such earnestness?

What Am I doing?!?!

I am starting a blog. Obviously. Amongst everything else that is happening right now. It is my hope that I'll be able to hone my writing a bit and maybe there will be a small element of escapism. Plus I think that this will be a great place to store memories.