Father's Day 2019

Dad's Eulogy


How I know I had a good Dad:



I will start out by referencing Jeremiah 29:11. A life verse for many people. “For I know the plans I have for you says the Lord: plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.”

This came to me in recent times as I watched my Dad decline in health. The meaning landed on me a little differently this time. It occurred to me that that must’ve been what was in Dad’s heart the day I was born. And the day my brothers were born, too, of course. Like this: For I know the plans I have for you little baby, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to teach you and protect you….plans to give you hope and a future...maybe more like this: plans to imprint your little mind with the notion that you are going to college.


What a blessing to have a Dad that took his job as a Dad seriously. Of course he loved us and I knew he did. That didn’t mean he gave us whatever we wanted...although some might say I was spoiled being the baby AND the only girl. We weren’t going to get away with anything. We were expected to tell the truth. There were consequences for lying ...see, there was this paddle. One time Roger got me in trouble for lighting a candle downstairs and I forgot about it, went off and left it burning. He could have blown it out, no harm no foul. But he wanted me to get in trouble. So, Dad called me in for a discussion. Roger was like a prosecutor pleading a case…”she could’ve burned the house down!, she shouldn’t be playing with matches!” At first I think I denied it (sealing my fate), and with all the evidence being presented(Rogers eye witness testimony)...let the paddling commence. In the last seconds I blurted out what happened to be the truth…”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I really thought there was going to be a harsh whippin so when dad picked up the paddle I peed my pants, but I don’t think he really wanted to spank me after I apologized so he barely made contact. That’s a righteous judge for you. I think I got the softer version of Dad than the one the boys had. Nonetheless, we all had to do what we were told, we were expected to follow through on commitments….even if it was hard, even if we didn’t want to.



For example, I joined the track team as a Sophomore in high school for some strange reason. And when you don’t pick an event (hurdles, relay, dash) they will stick you in the 2-mile race, because no one really wants to do that one. THat’s the long distance run. Dad showed up for my first track meet, I came in third. I was kinda proud of that because I thought I would keel over about half way through. Honestly, I hated it. Track practice was exhausting, and I came in dead last every other meet. Like, I would be the only one left on the track for an entire lap...holding up the rest of the meet. Embarrassing. Come to find out, not everybody that started the 2 mile finished. Half the runners quit before getting their eight laps around. I had no idea, I was concentrating on keeping oxygen going to my extremities. I say all that to say this...my Dad showed up for the first track meet, and after that I wasn’t sure if he was there or not, but I didn’t want him to see me quit if he was there. Then that became something that was in me by the end of the season...I’m not stopping because I know I have to follow through with what I started.


This is getting ready to take an unexpected turn. This work ethic that I was taught kept me working and working on a terrible relationship. Twelve years and two kids later...I had to quit. I had to admit my failure, pack it up, and flee really. My Dad did not like that. Now, he didn’t condemn me, or disown me, as a matter of fact me and the boys moved in with mom and dad for a little while, reprising his role as my protector and provider. My adult reality was gut-wrenching. They tried to tell me, they tried to teach me, but there I was in the consequences of my rebellion bringing two little innocent bystanders. I was a mess. I couldn’t eat,I lost 30lbs, looked terrible. I had two part-time jobs, pre-school teacher and store clerk, then I added a third job teaching one or two nights a week to the mix. I look back at that time and identify it as the darkest time of my life. I am thankful I grew up in a home where I did not see my parents drink or smoke or use any kind of drugs. And, after all, that was one of the reasons I left my marriage. I knew I did not want to add to my pain. There wasn’t anything or anyone on God’s green earth that was helping me, though. Staying busy was burning me out.


Another part of the parental plan was about to kick in...church. Sounds simple, but the truth is mom and dad dragged us to church, you know, they made us go. I didn’t want to go to church, I didn’t want to go to school, I didn’t want to take piano lessons….some things they just make you do.


But, just like sticking with track built a work ethic in me, going to church taught me many things, too. I think one of the messages of the church that got into my soul was that God is really the one in charge. The Creator, the alpha and omega, beginning and the end. And , the other thing...Jesus loves me...and is my Redeemer. That part about Jesus was starting to make sense. I was in a broken situation that needed to be redeemed.


A friend invited me to a church she was attending in Illinois, I didn’t mind the 45 minute drive, it made me feel better that the people I met there didn’t really know me or my situation and everything there was like a fresh start. Friendships were made, trust was built, and for some reason these people at this church didn’t think my marriage was a lost cause. They thought nothing was too hard for the Lord. And so, like it wasn’t even really my idea, they started to pray for my marriage to be restored and the assistant pastor there went after George like a shepherd would go after a lost sheep. I am not making this up! Romans 8:28 “And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”


The restoration of my marriage is really a miracle. Only God knows the level of boiling hatred I had in my heart. Believe me, this is the condensed version of that story. It was a rollercoaster ride. I left in 2001, divorced 2002 and we remarried 2006. My Dad was always in my corner...and always in George’s corner.( That actually frustrated me) He was supportive whichever way it was gonna go...divorce or reconciliation. I can appreciate that now, as I got a chance to live that out with Dad in his final days...I had to let him know that I was there to support him while he was hanging on, and I had to let him know I was ok with him passing on. Knowing that it is God that numbers our days is where I find the peace in that. (Psalm 139)


I will close with these thoughts.

It’s good to know that the One who created my inmost being, the one who knows my thoughts, the One who ordained all my days before they came to be...is also the One who has the plans.

 Plans to prosper us and not to harm us, plans to give us a hope and a future. And I can just ask Him to lead me in the way everlasting.

I think my Dad really understood those two concepts I gleaned from church: God is ultimately in charge and everybody needs a Redeemer.

He tried to align his plans for us with God’s plans for us, and THAT is how I know I had a good Dad.

Time for a Change

  Here we are, closing out 2018, heading into 2019. The only thing I associate with 2018 is the death of my father. I watched the man die.  It wasn't really peaceful. At. All. He went from his usual self to a half-comatose helpless human being in a matter of days. But then, after that...slowly dying. The death rattle they call it...horrible. Perhaps starving, definitely dehydrated. This is palliative care? Pain meds are the ONLY comfort measure? Oh, don't get me started.
  It definitely affected me. Traumatized more like. This leads me to the "take away" from that whole situation...
  "I'm not going out like that."

And, if I am not going to be overweight, riddled with cancer and diabetic or whatever at age 83, I had better be on top of my game at my current age. (44)
  Probably should have started sooner. I might have been able to help my Dad. He was not ignorant of his health, nor did he disregard it. He used to swim, lift weights, walk, ...he USED to exercise. It got harder and harder for him to do those things when his balance, eyesight, and body started to break down. He tried to counteract that by researching and trying vitamins, supplements, and natural and homeopathic remedies. This may be the very thing that helped him survive more than eight years during which he had two different cancer diagnoses, cancer surgery and open heart surgery. But, if there was ONE thing that sabotaged all his own efforts, it would be....his DIET.
 
  The standard American diet full of processed foods, fast food, and the ass-backward advice of the national American Heart Association (and even the American Diabetes association). Erroneous recommendations,  which include a significant amount of carbs and minimize the benefits of good fats. They are even pro-canola and against coconut oil!  What the hell?! Even the average American is getting wise to the benefits of coconut oil! MCT's! And have you heard that you are "supposed" to eat six small meals a day to keep your metabolism revved???Where did that get started? Bullshit! So, sorry...this stuff makes me mad.  Eating frequently only serves to trigger an insulin response...and we already have too much insulin...you can tell because the excess gets stored as fat. Aren't we one of the fattest cities in the U.S.?

  I know I am not a doctor, I don't have a medical degree. But, I have a brain, I know how to read and I like to research and study. Isn't that how you get any degree? Medical or otherwise...read, research, and study.
I appreciate those with precise medical expertise being there for acute care and emergency situations. I also appreciate those doctors and nurses who can put two and two together and search out the truth of our sad medical crisis in this country. Pills are not always the answer.
 Check out Dr. Jason Fung, Dr. Mindy Pelz and Dr. Eric Berg on Youtube for some enlightening info.

 This has been my catalyst to add to my teaching degree. I am in the middle of a certification course to be a Holistic Health and Wellness Coach. It is quite a general class so far, and I want to specifically help people lose weight and adopt a healthy diet ...for life! 
  In all my research so far, I realize that my usual way of eating most closely resembles the Ketogenic diet. And I have never really struggled with my weight. When I get that "extra" 10+lbs it is always directly correlated to an up-tick in my sugar/carb consumption.  Also, something that I have nearly always done, and didn't know it had a name, is "intermittent fasting". That part is key, I believe. I would love to help and support as many people as I can so that they don't have to go out of this life the way my Dad did either...ya know! Reach out to me if you are interested in starting the Keto diet or Intermittent Fasting.  I am not fully Keto yet, so maybe we can start it together. Happy New Year!


 

Grief is a *bleep*

 I am struggling. With grief. And it makes things harder. There, I said it. There is some sort of weird pride thing inside me that doesn't want to let that out. Or, maybe I just figured it out...I am kinda slow on the up-take sometimes. It is so strange that now, of all times, I have to admit it. Life has been way more hectic than this before, I tell myself. I have had babies, toddlers, kids, jobs and stress all at the same time and functioned better than I am now. (Although still not that great.)

  I tell myself a lot of unhelpful things.

Writing used to be one of the ways I processed things...notebooks (literal notebooks) full of writing. I was one of those nerds who loved writing essays, research papers and the like. Now, I like to read what someone else has put the thought and effort into writing because I am exhausted. But, here's goes nothin.

During my Dad's last days on this earth, his day to day care was mentally and physically draining. Let me just get this off my chest, hospice care wasn't nearly as much help as I thought they would be. Don't get me wrong, though, every nurse, nurse's aide and administrator that we talked to was caring and intelligent and did their job well. The people were great. The actual physical help they employed was bare bones minimum at best. They could assess his health, tell us what to do in certain situations, prescribe meds, order supplies big and small, but me and my brother were the ones changing catheter bags, cleaning him up, moving him around via a provided hydraulic lift (even with that, maneuvering a 200lb man is challenging) giving daily meds, eventually feeding him...you get the picture. I was under the impression that they had his quality of life at the forefront of their mission, but honestly, to me, it seemed there was an unbalanced focus on pain medication.

At one point, he had been prescribed oxycodone, fentanyl, atavan, and roxynol which is liquid morphine. An opioid overdose waiting to happen, I am not 100% sure that wasn't the true cause of death. I know he was indeed dying of cancer. However, it seems everyone else besides my dad feared the pain so much that we , rather, I... I can only speak for myself...I went against my gut telling me the pain medication we were to give was too much, too soon. And now he's gone. And now I have guilt.

 I just hated recounting the events of the day when I would get home. It was hard enough to witness his rapid decline step by step. Was it really the disease weakening him day to day, or was it the pain medication? The initial doses really made it hard for him to communicate or swallow, so he could no longer take pills or eat or drink and that might have helped him live longer. Why am I not a quick thinker??? Why am I just now getting clarity on that???
 It is too late.

 And I may be completely wrong, too, so why even torture myself?

So, now I feel like I am functioning daily in a fog. I am living my life as usual, but there are no vivid details.
The grief is not so strong that it is debilitating, nor is the sadness overwhelming. It is just part of my new personality. Unfortunately, joy and happiness and general life enjoyment seems to have a lower ceiling...it is all meeting in the middle. Averaging out. Bringing my average down, mind you. Oh, hey...this is sounding familiar. I think they call it depression. Well, then,...depression is a *bleep*.

One Spoken Sentence

One Spoken Sentence

The word universe means one spoken sentence. “And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light. (Genesis 1:3)

The one, true, perfect God of the universe created man in His image(Genesis 1:27), but lacking His ultimate power. In place of that, He totally provides all that is necessary for life to His creation. To man, He gives free-will and, originally, only one rule - “but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it, you will surely die.” (Genesis 2:17) How did He impart this rule? He told them. He communicated with them. They knew each other.

Even though physical death became part of human destiny, Adam and Eve managed to produce a multitude of offspring. Unfortunately, only a noted few walked with God as their ancestors did. “Now the earth was corrupt in God's sight and was full of violence.” (Genesis 6:11) Fewer and fewer people chose God out of their own free-will. He floods the earth, but spares Noah and his descendants.

A later, noteworthy deliverance involves those who continued to acknowledge the creator God, the Israelites. The masses got to ride the coat-tails of the ones who continued to seek Him. Moses pressed into God's explicit directions and led an entire people group out of slavery. In their Exodus, they are utterly dependent on his mercy and provision. He has to get more specific with his rules. Now, there are ten. The very first commandment (Exodus 20:1-3) is prefaced with “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. You shall have no other gods before me.” Just a reminder of the most important thing. The other nine commandments are for protection and so that life may be well. The need for these “rules” points to our inclination toward using free-will for selfishness instead of for worship, relationship, or obedience.

At this point, the people have rules, and eventually need rules to follow when they break the rules, in order to reconcile with God. He responds to an established sacrifice system in order to commune with His people. It is costly, but He is Holy. The Temple,the Tabernacle, the Ark of the Covenant, Feasts, Festivals, altars, garments, animal sacrifices, offerings, I could go on...and it would still pale in comparison to perfect righteousness. He knows.

As time moves on, the system becomes the focus instead of God. It becomes a ritual of tradition. Actions motivated by the mind instead of by the heart. The very people who claim the Creator of Heaven and Earth as their master, adopt outside cultural icons and pagan practices into their religion. Clamoring for a king within their ranks instead of worshiping the King of the Universe.

Still, there exists a continuous voice. Prophets who can hear from God. “Then the Lord reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, 'Now I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and kingdoms to uproot and tear down, to destroy and overthrow, to build and to plant.'” (Jeremiah 1:9) They remind the people who God is, what He can do, and that He is capable of wrath and/or compassion. “For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you; Do not fear; I will help you.”(Isaiah 41:3)

Isaiah foreshadowed a new plan of reconciliation. The Messiah. The once and for all sacrificial lamb. He would be “despised and rejected by men” (Isaiah53:3) Interesting. He would be “pierced for our transgressions”.(Isaiah 53:5) Ouch. Jesus is recognized and embraced by the weary and those burdened by the law. He is scorned and renounced by the power-hungry religious elite who are unwilling to, ironically, acknowledge the will of God.

John told everyone he could. “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”(1:14) “I have seen and I testify that this is the Son of God.”(1:34)

Who else could endure the cross? He did so without sinning, and even forgiving those who betrayed him, insulted him, spit on him and brutally nailed him to it. Appointed kings, anointed prophets, nor anyone in the old testament ever came close. This is the difference between being made in the image or being the son of God. They didn't have “what it takes”. God-power!

Jesus is the ultimate sacrifice. The old system is dead. He is the “tree of life” (Genesis 3:22), so to speak, and your choice dictates your eternity. Even your ability to choose is God-given. He is worthy, mighty, holy, awesome, and He loves us all. (2 Peter 3:9) Believe it!

The Gift

     Recently, my six year-old daughter has been really mischievous. Honestly, I feel like she is gas-lighting me. (Driving me to the brink of insanity.) Her latest incident involved using half of a brand-new bottle of bubble bath on one Barbie's hair. The highly perfumed lilac scent gave her away. The whole house was getting a buzz from the strong smell wafting out of the basement play area.

     She came to me complaining of feeling dizzy. She's blonde, you know. I'll leave it at that. (ha ha) Here comes the shame on me part---I was mad. Extremely upset. Probably a cumulative effect of the kitty litter fiasco from the previous day, plus all the other make-up, sharpie marker, and finger nail polish debacles. Furious, I tell you.

    Was I really that angry about wasted bubble bath? What is wrong with me?
Fast forward---today I was bathing the youngest two girls using some of the remaining bubble bath. A 1yr. old and a 4yr. old can really enjoy a tub full of toys and suds. That made me happy.

     I recalled one Christmas or birthday present that I received from my friend, Crystal, while we were in elementary school. It was a "six pack" of bubble bath. They looked like soda bottles in a cardboard carton with a handle. Three of them were pink and three of them were blue. I remember how much I loved getting that gift! To me, it was a very generous gift. I was not expecting to get anything which made it even more special and memorable. What little girl wouldn't appreciate that perfect gift?!? Merely recalling the whole thing still brings me joy!

     As I wax introspective for a moment---I am going to say this is one of those profound things of life that help shape our personality. Because my friend's generosity brought me such joy, I was inspired to try to bring others joy through giving.

     Now, my analytical side comes into play. I am going to go on and on about bubble bath for a moment. I would like to say that I enjoyed many wonderful bubble-filled baths during my childhood, but I didn't. I hoarded that stuff. It was "special" and "wonderful". I only took regular baths because they were just regular days, not special days. Also, if I really peel away the layers of this tail, I would have said the gift was probably meant for a special and wonderful person, but I was neither of those.

     When I moved out of my childhood home, I found them covered with dust in the top of my closet. Five of them unopened. I felt a pang of regret. That was wasted bubble bath.

     This may be one of the reasons my girls get so many bubble baths! Yes, it is frivolous. Yes, it is a luxury, but I want them to know they are special and wonderful. In this way, the kindness of a simple elementary school gift has inadvertently made a positive impact on the next generation!

      I always feel like everything has to do with everything else, so I try to figure things out---especially God. Why would God do things this way or that? How is this making any sense?

     There is a passage of scripture that tells about a woman who broke a jar of expensive perfume open and anointed Jesus' feet. The disciples were upset because it seemed to be wasteful. Jesus silenced their objections by basically saying---this is between her and I. That perfume pouring out was extravagant. She wanted Jesus to know He was worth that to her. Of course He is.

     He wants us to know what we are worth to Him, as well. No more animal sacrifices or burnt offerings on the altar, no need to wait in the outskirts of the temple, or even talk to some priest. Jesus communicated to us that we are loved so much He would die for us .His blood extravagantly pouring out on display for all to see. "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." (John 15:13 NIV)
     I had a hard time accepting that I was worthy of bubble bath, let alone someone willing to die for me. It's not about our perception of ourselves, though.
     Gifts are freely given, undeserved, ---from the heart, with love, to make us feel special and wonderful. Check out John 3:16, it's amazing!

    

Who can I blame?

Who can I blame? My house is always an upside-down, inside-out hot mess. Considering I am a "homemaker", a "stay at home mom", a "housewife" (snicker...does anyone say that anymore?)...you would think there would be some degree of organization around here.

Nope. Not a lot.

I try to focus on the positive, like, " thank the Lord we don't have pets in the house, too."
or this good point, "I guess it could be worse."

 It gives me some kind of strange comfort when I read books and articles about organization. First of all, they are so logical. That stuff makes sense, so I am motivated to try, try again.  Some of the books I have read even go so far as to say that people are either born organized or they are not...I think I was not, but surely I could learn. Right? So I get the bins, the tubs, the labels, etc.

My firstborn just recently left the nest. Although that was bittersweet, I have noticed two things that give me hope. 1. My oldest daughter has picked up the slack on the chore list. 2. The water bill is about half what it was when he lived here. (he showered and changed clothes multiple times a day)(This also translates into less laundry for me.) Yay.

I have spent the last 20 years actively engaged in one OR MORE of these 4 things: pregnant, nursing a baby, diapering, or potty training...no breaks.  When Millie is out of diapers, then perhaps I will be able to get somewhere. (I keep telling myself.)

Until then, I think I will blame it on the kids.

And then there's this...

     Long time, no blog...But what else am I going to do at 4:21 am when I can't sleep and dare not wake anyone up?  I will make it short and force myself back to sleep after I get this off my chest.
     I woke up not even an hour after baby's last feeding. A sharp pain in my left brain. Things are weighing heavy on me, little things and big things. Life things.
     I'm a deep thinker, not a quick thinker...and this makes me too slow about getting around to doing things. So they pile up, waiting in my imaginary line for attention. Those are just the things that can be put off, not pressing matters like changing diapers, paying bills, feeding people, making sure we have clean clothes, gas in the vehicle, etc. I just run in a perpetual circle with those daily grind items.
 
     No, it is the bigger picture that is starting to close in on me, almost like my measure of gravity is increasing. Subtle, but present, and palpable only to me. Needy children, more than one at a time. Aging parents, more than one. Health crises...my mom beats breast cancer in the Spring only to have colon cancer show up in the Fall. Two vehicles down at the same time, mechanical bills to the tune of thousands of dollars.  Self-imposed homeschool pressure to be further along in the textbooks. And that constant nag of "look at this messy house"...no routine, lack of organization. It was this last one that put me over the edge as I walked tentatively into the living room, partly to be careful of what I might step on, and partly to not stimulate that terrible head pain again. I felt like an overfull water balloon as I looked at the arm of my light green sofa...you know, the one with blue marker scrawlings "345 25 J L H" This is Joely's kindergarten handiwork. And it's sharpie.  The tears burst forth.
     As I ponder my "list" of afflictions, I am reminded of the book of Job.  His sufferings were far worse, and his character more noble. Even my mom is taking her impending surgery and unsure future in stride...like lets get this over with so I can get on with my life. She's 78!
     George recently read Romans chapter 12 to me...this is all I can remember...Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.   Well, I guess that is my goal for the time being.