Lest I be accused of being depressing, I want to share a video that moves me to tears every time I watch it. But don't you think that happy tears are the best kind? I don't really know why, but it just makes me happy to watch it. Makes me want to do my own little "happy dance" -- although I suspect I would look like a big dork.
And the music is simply beautiful ... haunting and uplifting at the same time. I loaded it into iTunes and listen to it often.
Enjoy!
http://www.wherethehellismatt.com/?fbid=GWGOj
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Tornadoes
I'll be honest -- I'm terrified of tornadoes. I've experienced my share of natural disasters, and don't get too worked up about earthquakes or hurricanes. But tornadoes ... tornadoes scare the living daylights out of me. For that reason, we have a basement, and a few years ago my husband got me a weather radio for our bedroom. For Christmas, no less. We're big romantics that way.
When I was in college and lifeguarding my summers away in Colorado, I got somewhat accustomed to seeing funnel clouds in the sky, usually far away on the plains. Most places you watch for lightning; in Colorado we watched for lightning and funnel clouds. My parents lived on the high plains, and most years a twister touched down somewhere in their general vicinity, but never close enough to their house to really warrant an anxiety attack.
I vividly recall seeing a tornado touch down in Miami about 12 years ago while at work. I was elsewhere in the office and when I returned to my office, there were several people clustered at the window behind my desk, watching a tornado touch down just on our side of the interstate, probably about 2 miles away. On the one hand, it was hypnotic to watch the debris flying, and it was far enough from us that we didn't have to worry about being damaged by it. But on the other hand, my instinct was to bolt -- it didn't matter where, just away from that window. I stood in the doorway and watched while the anxiety grew within me, and was poised to sprint down the hall to the file room at the first sign that the tornado was heading our way. As terrified as I was, I was unable to look away from Nature's fury.
Thankfully for us, once the twister finished tearing apart the buildings unlucky enough to be located on that street corner, it lifted up and disappeared back into the black clouds. That same afternoon, another one touched down near the college campus where Bret was studying, and we were able to compare tornado stories when we got home. I think I won.
So. I have a history of fearing these storms. And three different storms, on three different days this past spring, will be forever etched into my memory.
Back in January, we learned that my mom's chemotherapy treatments were not having the desired effect -- or really, any effect -- on the cancer. So we supported her in her decision to discontinue treatment, and took her home to begin hospice.
Super Tuesday was two days after we took her home. Hospice had set up her hospital bed in the living room since she wanted to be in the heart of the house. And as we watched the news, the primary election results were overshadowed by the news of a terrible storm system that was tearing through Tennessee. Tornadoes had damaged towns in Arkansas and western Tennessee, and we were directly in their path. For hours that evening, as Mom dozed, my dad and I watched the radar maps that were tracking the storms as they rampaged towards us. With dread, we watched the news reports of the destruction of part of a college campus, and the panic began to really take hold when they hit Nashville. All I could think of was, their house has no basement, and their "safe place" is under the stairs in the garage.
"Dad," I asked, quietly because I didn't want to distub Mom, "how are we going to get Mom down there?" She wasn't a large person, and we're both pretty strong, but it would be a real challenge to maneuver her down the narrow flight of stairs and into the garage storage area.
"We can't. But if we need to, we can go into the laundry room in the center of the house. It has no windows, and is the safest place inside." It would have been tight, but we did have a wheelchair and we could manage.
As it turned out, the storm changed slightly in its course once it left Nashville, and headed far enough away that we never did have to load Mom into the wheelchair and into the "Not-Quite-So-Safe-Place." And I'm sure that if we'd had to hunker down in there and wait out a storm, it would have been much more frightening. But it was pretty scary, and it just illustrated all that I hate about tornadoes. You're so helpless, and all you can do is wait and see if the fickle finger of fury will single you out. Talk about the epitome of vulnerability. And, being a bit of a control freak, there is little I hate more than having no control.
Fast forward two weeks. I was at home that Sunday afternoon, with a long list of tasks that needed to be done before I headed back to Tennessee the next afternoon. Being a procrastinator, I figured I'd get to it all in the afternoon and evening. Yeah, well, it was a nice plan while it lasted. Here comes a storm in from Alabama, and it was big enough and fierce enough to drive even my big strong husband into the basement for most of the late afternoon.
It was nice to spend a few hours playing Yahtzee as a family, even though I was preoccupied by my worry and my ever-growing to-do list. And of course, by the threat of tornadoes whirling about somewhere not too distant. As soon as we heard the all-clear on the radio, we went back upstairs and I called my dad to check in about my drive up the following day. Mom had declined suddenly over the past day or so, and I was trying to get all my loose ends tied up in case I couldn't get back home the following weekend as planned.
Later that evening my brother called to tell me that Mom had decided that it was "time" -- that she was ready to go. She was basically just waiting for me to get there. Tornado forgotten, I put the kids to bed, loaded the car and went to bed. The next morning, I hit the road before dawn, and heard reports on the radio of the damage from the previous day's storms. As I drove, I could see the evidence -- highway signs twisted completely apart, billboards downed and limbs and debris littering the roadside.
Fast forward another 3 weeks. My mom had passed away, and we were all gathered in Tennessee for her funeral. Late Friday night we heard reports of a tornado hitting downtown Atlanta. The next morning, an hour or so before we left for the service, my husband received a call from one of his team telling him that their office had been severely damaged by the storm. All I could think was "Another one?"
We're fortunate, I guess, in that of all three storms over that 6-week period, we weren't injured or permanently affected. Even my husband's office is back to normal. But something is nagging at me. Isn't it strange that three significant events over the last month of my mom's life were marked by tornadoes? Did I just notice them for some reason?
Or are they somehow a metaphor for my struggle with my mom's cancer? It was so difficult for me to accept and find peace with the fact that I had no control whatsoever over the outcome. And when I think about it, her cancer was like a tornado that whipped through our lives, destroying our neat plans and leaving in its wake the debris of our grief. And, like survivors of natural disasters, we have cleaned up what we can and moved forward with our lives. Even while looking back over our shoulders at the sky, watching the horizon for signs of another storm.
I've been thinking a lot about this lately. Maybe because today marks six months since Mom died. Somehow it seems like a hundred years ago, and at the same time it seems like just last week. And I'd been doing a better job at compartmentalizing my sadness. But lately it's been creeping back into the other compartments of my emotions, and instead of trying to just shove it back in and slam the door, I thought maybe if I address it for once and for all, then maybe (just maybe) it will be content to stay put.
I have no answers, just so many questions. And I had peace, but if I'm honest, sometimes it feels like the calm before the storm, and there's a part of me that's just waiting for another storm to churn through and blow it to pieces.
Not the healthiest way to feel, I know. I'm working on it. But is it normal?
When I was in college and lifeguarding my summers away in Colorado, I got somewhat accustomed to seeing funnel clouds in the sky, usually far away on the plains. Most places you watch for lightning; in Colorado we watched for lightning and funnel clouds. My parents lived on the high plains, and most years a twister touched down somewhere in their general vicinity, but never close enough to their house to really warrant an anxiety attack.
I vividly recall seeing a tornado touch down in Miami about 12 years ago while at work. I was elsewhere in the office and when I returned to my office, there were several people clustered at the window behind my desk, watching a tornado touch down just on our side of the interstate, probably about 2 miles away. On the one hand, it was hypnotic to watch the debris flying, and it was far enough from us that we didn't have to worry about being damaged by it. But on the other hand, my instinct was to bolt -- it didn't matter where, just away from that window. I stood in the doorway and watched while the anxiety grew within me, and was poised to sprint down the hall to the file room at the first sign that the tornado was heading our way. As terrified as I was, I was unable to look away from Nature's fury.
Thankfully for us, once the twister finished tearing apart the buildings unlucky enough to be located on that street corner, it lifted up and disappeared back into the black clouds. That same afternoon, another one touched down near the college campus where Bret was studying, and we were able to compare tornado stories when we got home. I think I won.
So. I have a history of fearing these storms. And three different storms, on three different days this past spring, will be forever etched into my memory.
Back in January, we learned that my mom's chemotherapy treatments were not having the desired effect -- or really, any effect -- on the cancer. So we supported her in her decision to discontinue treatment, and took her home to begin hospice.
Super Tuesday was two days after we took her home. Hospice had set up her hospital bed in the living room since she wanted to be in the heart of the house. And as we watched the news, the primary election results were overshadowed by the news of a terrible storm system that was tearing through Tennessee. Tornadoes had damaged towns in Arkansas and western Tennessee, and we were directly in their path. For hours that evening, as Mom dozed, my dad and I watched the radar maps that were tracking the storms as they rampaged towards us. With dread, we watched the news reports of the destruction of part of a college campus, and the panic began to really take hold when they hit Nashville. All I could think of was, their house has no basement, and their "safe place" is under the stairs in the garage.
"Dad," I asked, quietly because I didn't want to distub Mom, "how are we going to get Mom down there?" She wasn't a large person, and we're both pretty strong, but it would be a real challenge to maneuver her down the narrow flight of stairs and into the garage storage area.
"We can't. But if we need to, we can go into the laundry room in the center of the house. It has no windows, and is the safest place inside." It would have been tight, but we did have a wheelchair and we could manage.
As it turned out, the storm changed slightly in its course once it left Nashville, and headed far enough away that we never did have to load Mom into the wheelchair and into the "Not-Quite-So-Safe-Place." And I'm sure that if we'd had to hunker down in there and wait out a storm, it would have been much more frightening. But it was pretty scary, and it just illustrated all that I hate about tornadoes. You're so helpless, and all you can do is wait and see if the fickle finger of fury will single you out. Talk about the epitome of vulnerability. And, being a bit of a control freak, there is little I hate more than having no control.
Fast forward two weeks. I was at home that Sunday afternoon, with a long list of tasks that needed to be done before I headed back to Tennessee the next afternoon. Being a procrastinator, I figured I'd get to it all in the afternoon and evening. Yeah, well, it was a nice plan while it lasted. Here comes a storm in from Alabama, and it was big enough and fierce enough to drive even my big strong husband into the basement for most of the late afternoon.
It was nice to spend a few hours playing Yahtzee as a family, even though I was preoccupied by my worry and my ever-growing to-do list. And of course, by the threat of tornadoes whirling about somewhere not too distant. As soon as we heard the all-clear on the radio, we went back upstairs and I called my dad to check in about my drive up the following day. Mom had declined suddenly over the past day or so, and I was trying to get all my loose ends tied up in case I couldn't get back home the following weekend as planned.
Later that evening my brother called to tell me that Mom had decided that it was "time" -- that she was ready to go. She was basically just waiting for me to get there. Tornado forgotten, I put the kids to bed, loaded the car and went to bed. The next morning, I hit the road before dawn, and heard reports on the radio of the damage from the previous day's storms. As I drove, I could see the evidence -- highway signs twisted completely apart, billboards downed and limbs and debris littering the roadside.
Fast forward another 3 weeks. My mom had passed away, and we were all gathered in Tennessee for her funeral. Late Friday night we heard reports of a tornado hitting downtown Atlanta. The next morning, an hour or so before we left for the service, my husband received a call from one of his team telling him that their office had been severely damaged by the storm. All I could think was "Another one?"
We're fortunate, I guess, in that of all three storms over that 6-week period, we weren't injured or permanently affected. Even my husband's office is back to normal. But something is nagging at me. Isn't it strange that three significant events over the last month of my mom's life were marked by tornadoes? Did I just notice them for some reason?
Or are they somehow a metaphor for my struggle with my mom's cancer? It was so difficult for me to accept and find peace with the fact that I had no control whatsoever over the outcome. And when I think about it, her cancer was like a tornado that whipped through our lives, destroying our neat plans and leaving in its wake the debris of our grief. And, like survivors of natural disasters, we have cleaned up what we can and moved forward with our lives. Even while looking back over our shoulders at the sky, watching the horizon for signs of another storm.
I've been thinking a lot about this lately. Maybe because today marks six months since Mom died. Somehow it seems like a hundred years ago, and at the same time it seems like just last week. And I'd been doing a better job at compartmentalizing my sadness. But lately it's been creeping back into the other compartments of my emotions, and instead of trying to just shove it back in and slam the door, I thought maybe if I address it for once and for all, then maybe (just maybe) it will be content to stay put.
I have no answers, just so many questions. And I had peace, but if I'm honest, sometimes it feels like the calm before the storm, and there's a part of me that's just waiting for another storm to churn through and blow it to pieces.
Not the healthiest way to feel, I know. I'm working on it. But is it normal?
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Fun With Mommy
So school started yesterday, and my two older children boarded the bus for another year of educational adventures. It seems impossible that Josh is in the 3rd grade already. And I know she turned 6 in May and did kindergarten last year, but there is no way Jessie's already a grown up 1st grader. Meanwhile, Jacob has two more weeks until preschool resumes, so we're in for a lot of quality time together.
And we were busy over the weekend and missed all the Olympics coverage. Even with DVR, no less. So yesterday I set it to record all the remaining coverage. Thank God for DVR, is all I can say. We were able to breeze through 5 (!!!) hours in a little over an hour. Jacob was fascinated by the synchronized diving, brought Thomas and the rest of his engine friends in from the playroom to root for Michael Phelps, and contributed to the commentary on the mens' gymnastic team finals. Okay, so his analysis of their performances on the various apparati consisted of basically repeating "I can't do that," but I could tell that he got swept up in the excitement of the Games.
And now we're off to yet another chapter in the Fun With Mommy book - organizing the laundry room. And, if we're lucky, all the clothes contained therein.
Big Brother and Big Sister don't know what they're missing. Or maybe they do. It might provide an explanation of why they were outside waiting for the bus a full 10 minutes before its arrival this morning.
And we were busy over the weekend and missed all the Olympics coverage. Even with DVR, no less. So yesterday I set it to record all the remaining coverage. Thank God for DVR, is all I can say. We were able to breeze through 5 (!!!) hours in a little over an hour. Jacob was fascinated by the synchronized diving, brought Thomas and the rest of his engine friends in from the playroom to root for Michael Phelps, and contributed to the commentary on the mens' gymnastic team finals. Okay, so his analysis of their performances on the various apparati consisted of basically repeating "I can't do that," but I could tell that he got swept up in the excitement of the Games.
And now we're off to yet another chapter in the Fun With Mommy book - organizing the laundry room. And, if we're lucky, all the clothes contained therein.
Big Brother and Big Sister don't know what they're missing. Or maybe they do. It might provide an explanation of why they were outside waiting for the bus a full 10 minutes before its arrival this morning.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
100 Things
1. I'm a mom.
2. To a girl and two boys.
3. And I'm a wife.
4. For the past 17 years, exactly.
5. We had a kitty for 12 1/2 years - she was our first baby, and the most awesome cat ever.
6. She died suddenly in Feb 2007 and we haven't gotten a new cat.
7. We're just not ready yet.
8. My dad was in the Air Force so I never lived anywhere for longer than 3 years.
9. When I graduated high school my dad retired from the AF and my parents moved to Colorado.
10. I went to college in Georgia, and spent summers and Christmas breaks in Colorado.
11. Even though I never lived there full-time, I still think of it as "home."
12. Maybe because the best summers of my life were spent out there.
13. When I was in college, I thought I'd get married at 25 and have my first child at 30. I have no idea where I got that idea.
14. But then I fell in love at 20 and decided I didn't want to wait 5 years to get married.
15. So I got married when I was 22 (almost 23).
16. But we did wait to start our family and I was 30 when we had our first child.
17. I was friends with my husband for several years before we figured out that we were perfect for each other.
18. We both agree that it was a blessing because we probably wouldn't be together now if we'd dated as college freshmen.
19. We now live about 2 hours from where we both went to college.
20. It only took us 8 years and 2 cross-country moves to get here.
21. My first job out of college was at Walt Disney World.
22. I loved working there, and discovered that the hospitality business was a good fit for me.
23. Aside from the hours and low pay, that is.
24. Ever since, I have high expecations for guest/customer service.
25. And I get really annoyed when I get bad service.
26. Although I almost never complain when I do.
27. I hate to make a fuss.
28. Five years out of college, my husband went back to school to study engineering.
29. We lived in Miami while he was in school so he could work for his dad's engineering firm.
30. While we were there we renovated a 40-year-old house that had been damaged by Hurricane Andrew.
31. While we lived in it.
32. And while we both worked and he went to school.
33. It was a lot of fun. Sometimes.
34. It was definitely a lot of work.
35. But I learned a lot about construction and how to build a house.
36. And I think it's probably the most valuable skill I've learned as an adult.
37. My husband received his Engineering degree in less time than it took for his Communications degree - and with a much higher GPA. It's amazing what being married will do to one's study habits. ;)
38. I've been to most of the United States.
39. I've always wanted to go to Europe.
40. We went to Ireland before we got pregnant with our first child.
41. It's a start.
42. But we loved it so much, I'm tempted to go back before going anywhere else.
43. When we landed at Shannon, it felt like a homecoming. I have no idea why.
44. My birthday is in December.
45. I both love and dislike that.
46. My first child was due on my birthday.
47. We all (my doctor included) thought he'd be late.
48. I didn't want him to have to share his birthday with me or Jesus.
49. So I prayed for him to be born in November.
50. And he was.
51. Except that he arrived in the beginning of the month, not the end, like I wanted.
52. So he spent 10 days in the NICU while his lungs grew.
53. I learned to be careful what you pray for - you just may get it.
54. It was the scariest time of our life.
55. I forget about it until I see photos, and then the anxiety grabs me all over again.
56. When he was 4, my son told me that God came to him in a dream and told him He wanted him to have a baby brother.
57. We laughed and told him that things were good with two parents and two kids.
58. Baby brother arrived 4 days after his 5th birthday.
59. We learned to never laugh at a child's revelations.
60. My daughter looks exactly like my mom.
61. She always has.
62. Their personalities are very similar as well.
63. I'm glad on both counts.
64. My mom passed away in February 2008 from pancreatic cancer.
65. In October 2007 she was admitted into the hospital because they thought she had gallstones.
66. We would have preferred gallstones to the tumor on her pancreas.
67. It was the second scariest time of my life.
68. I learned a lot about myself during her illness.
69. I'm stronger than I thought.
70. Or at least I fake it better than I thought I could.
71. And I have amazing friends and family.
72. That wasn't a surprise, but it was proven in a thousand ways.
73. My faith grew stronger.
74. My worst fear was that I wouldn't be able to be there for my mom at the end.
75. I worried about it a lot.
76. The day before she died I committed my most selfish act ever.
77. I asked her to hold off on the extra pain meds until I arrived.
78. It was a very long 5 hour drive.
79. But we knew that once she took the meds she'd be out of it, and I needed her to be awake when I arrived.
80. She waited. I'd do the same thing for my kids.
81. Watching my mom die was the hardest thing I've ever done.
82. But being present at her death was the greatest gift I could give - or receive.
83. I've discovered that I've become my mom.
84. I teach swimming lessons.
85. I volunteer in my kids' schools.
86. I love to bake.
87. I'm crafty.
88. I sell myself short.
89. And I don't like to be the center of attention.
90. I love to read. I always have, and can lose myself in a book for an entire day.
91. Which isn't always a good thing when there are 3 kids in a house that needs to be cleaned.
92. My kids love to read, too. Thankfully.
93. Every year my goal is to de-clutter - my life and my house.
94. I usually feel like it's an impossible goal.
95. I procrastinate.
96. And I take on too many projects.
97. It's hard for me to say no.
98. And I can be compulsive.
99. For all of those reasons, blogging is the last thing I should start doing right now.
100. Yet I feel compelled for some reason.
2. To a girl and two boys.
3. And I'm a wife.
4. For the past 17 years, exactly.
5. We had a kitty for 12 1/2 years - she was our first baby, and the most awesome cat ever.
6. She died suddenly in Feb 2007 and we haven't gotten a new cat.
7. We're just not ready yet.
8. My dad was in the Air Force so I never lived anywhere for longer than 3 years.
9. When I graduated high school my dad retired from the AF and my parents moved to Colorado.
10. I went to college in Georgia, and spent summers and Christmas breaks in Colorado.
11. Even though I never lived there full-time, I still think of it as "home."
12. Maybe because the best summers of my life were spent out there.
13. When I was in college, I thought I'd get married at 25 and have my first child at 30. I have no idea where I got that idea.
14. But then I fell in love at 20 and decided I didn't want to wait 5 years to get married.
15. So I got married when I was 22 (almost 23).
16. But we did wait to start our family and I was 30 when we had our first child.
17. I was friends with my husband for several years before we figured out that we were perfect for each other.
18. We both agree that it was a blessing because we probably wouldn't be together now if we'd dated as college freshmen.
19. We now live about 2 hours from where we both went to college.
20. It only took us 8 years and 2 cross-country moves to get here.
21. My first job out of college was at Walt Disney World.
22. I loved working there, and discovered that the hospitality business was a good fit for me.
23. Aside from the hours and low pay, that is.
24. Ever since, I have high expecations for guest/customer service.
25. And I get really annoyed when I get bad service.
26. Although I almost never complain when I do.
27. I hate to make a fuss.
28. Five years out of college, my husband went back to school to study engineering.
29. We lived in Miami while he was in school so he could work for his dad's engineering firm.
30. While we were there we renovated a 40-year-old house that had been damaged by Hurricane Andrew.
31. While we lived in it.
32. And while we both worked and he went to school.
33. It was a lot of fun. Sometimes.
34. It was definitely a lot of work.
35. But I learned a lot about construction and how to build a house.
36. And I think it's probably the most valuable skill I've learned as an adult.
37. My husband received his Engineering degree in less time than it took for his Communications degree - and with a much higher GPA. It's amazing what being married will do to one's study habits. ;)
38. I've been to most of the United States.
39. I've always wanted to go to Europe.
40. We went to Ireland before we got pregnant with our first child.
41. It's a start.
42. But we loved it so much, I'm tempted to go back before going anywhere else.
43. When we landed at Shannon, it felt like a homecoming. I have no idea why.
44. My birthday is in December.
45. I both love and dislike that.
46. My first child was due on my birthday.
47. We all (my doctor included) thought he'd be late.
48. I didn't want him to have to share his birthday with me or Jesus.
49. So I prayed for him to be born in November.
50. And he was.
51. Except that he arrived in the beginning of the month, not the end, like I wanted.
52. So he spent 10 days in the NICU while his lungs grew.
53. I learned to be careful what you pray for - you just may get it.
54. It was the scariest time of our life.
55. I forget about it until I see photos, and then the anxiety grabs me all over again.
56. When he was 4, my son told me that God came to him in a dream and told him He wanted him to have a baby brother.
57. We laughed and told him that things were good with two parents and two kids.
58. Baby brother arrived 4 days after his 5th birthday.
59. We learned to never laugh at a child's revelations.
60. My daughter looks exactly like my mom.
61. She always has.
62. Their personalities are very similar as well.
63. I'm glad on both counts.
64. My mom passed away in February 2008 from pancreatic cancer.
65. In October 2007 she was admitted into the hospital because they thought she had gallstones.
66. We would have preferred gallstones to the tumor on her pancreas.
67. It was the second scariest time of my life.
68. I learned a lot about myself during her illness.
69. I'm stronger than I thought.
70. Or at least I fake it better than I thought I could.
71. And I have amazing friends and family.
72. That wasn't a surprise, but it was proven in a thousand ways.
73. My faith grew stronger.
74. My worst fear was that I wouldn't be able to be there for my mom at the end.
75. I worried about it a lot.
76. The day before she died I committed my most selfish act ever.
77. I asked her to hold off on the extra pain meds until I arrived.
78. It was a very long 5 hour drive.
79. But we knew that once she took the meds she'd be out of it, and I needed her to be awake when I arrived.
80. She waited. I'd do the same thing for my kids.
81. Watching my mom die was the hardest thing I've ever done.
82. But being present at her death was the greatest gift I could give - or receive.
83. I've discovered that I've become my mom.
84. I teach swimming lessons.
85. I volunteer in my kids' schools.
86. I love to bake.
87. I'm crafty.
88. I sell myself short.
89. And I don't like to be the center of attention.
90. I love to read. I always have, and can lose myself in a book for an entire day.
91. Which isn't always a good thing when there are 3 kids in a house that needs to be cleaned.
92. My kids love to read, too. Thankfully.
93. Every year my goal is to de-clutter - my life and my house.
94. I usually feel like it's an impossible goal.
95. I procrastinate.
96. And I take on too many projects.
97. It's hard for me to say no.
98. And I can be compulsive.
99. For all of those reasons, blogging is the last thing I should start doing right now.
100. Yet I feel compelled for some reason.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Testing the Water
I've never been good at writing in a public forum. I love to write, but don't love to put it out there for people to actually read. Yet I majored in Journalism in college, not considering that second part of the writing process. Go figure.
In any case, here I am.
In any case, here I am.
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