Thoughts and Prayers, and a Crisis of Me

 Let's just get down to it today. 

I dreamed about this piece last night (or at least the theory of this piece), and I woke up thinking about it this morning. It has continued to play in my head, so I would say that is my sign to put it on paper. This is the first time in a long time that this has happened, so hold onto your bloomers if you plan on going along for this ride. I have no idea how deep this will go or what all will come out as I type, but I do think it might trigger some, in content alone. I guess I will then preface this with Sorry! Not sorry! 

So grab a cup of coffee, brew a pot of tea, or get yourself a Dr. Pepper, and let's get this blog piece started!

Last night I was doing some research and catching up on current events. Even I, Non-news Nancy, am not oblivious to world happenings. Don't get me wrong, I try to be. Truly I do, but sometimes the happenings are just too big and yes, even too scary to ignore. In this case, I really hold no fear, more astonishment, and disbelief, as the world is changing and I feel that humans are currently their own worst enemy and will be their own downfall in both this world and the next. 

I am going to begin with "thoughts and prayers." Do you want to trigger someone who has little to no faith? Post on social media, or say in front of someone lacking, that your thoughts and prayers are with someone struggling, grieving, or hurting and you will see a literal outpour of emotional gibberish on "What good are prayers when this person needs money, or a cure, etc, etc." I can't even count all the times that I have been chastised for posting this and literally belittled for doing so little to help someone who is suffering or in need. Does it bother me? No! I mean, I might feel a twinge of sadness for the chastising persons' lack of perception, self-control, and faith, but other than that.....let them feel justified in their convictions. My thoughts and prayers are with them too. 

Having said this, I do wonder if the statement you are in my thoughts and prayers is just words to some, or if they back them up with actions? No judgment one way or another. Just curiosity. After all, the statement does seem to have become quite the norm on social media posts, where loss, pain, and/or suffering is the topic. We all want the poster to know that we are thinking of them and in some cases, maybe saying we are praying is just what we think they want to hear. I sincerely hope not, because if every "thoughts and prayers" comment were true, then how awesome would that be?

When I say "You are in my thoughts and prayers", I try hard to mean every word of it. In the moment that I read the post, I say a prayer then and there asking that God's will be done for the person or family involved. I try not to stop there though. Each and every time I think about that person or family throughout the day or sometimes for many days, I renew that prayer. So when I make the statement, I try to make it absolutely factual and not just calming words in the moment. 

I know to some this sounds like nothing, especially if the person posting is in need of money, or food, or is in terrible pain or grief. I have even flat-out been asked just what I think prayers will do for this person. Sometimes I take the time to explain that I learned about 23 years ago, the true power of prayer.

 When a doctor looks at you and tells you that your child is within hours of dying and the medical community has done all that they can you become frozen in disbelief. When he follows it up with, "If you pray, then put it in God's hands. His hands are far safer than any doctors." It is at that moment that you realize that you could be a gazillionaire and it would not matter. Money, a casserole, or nothing else was going to save my child. That is when my heart became so heavy that it dropped to my stomach and made me hit my knees in prayers. My husband and I begged everybody in the vicinity to do the same whether they prayed or not....and they did. We also called family and friends and begged them to pray and every time our family crossed their minds, to pray some more. Here we are 23 years later, and that child not only survived but thrived and is still going strong. In fact, we were assured as we took him home from the hospital, by another doctor who believed far more in science than God, that David was a bonafide miracle and that there was simply no way he should be going home on no meds, and no oxygen. No one had to convince us. 

And that my friends is why you all are in my thoughts and prayers. Prayers are more powerful than any other human act a person can give. In fact, prayer is dare I say, the greatest gift someone can give another human being... Perhaps I will delve into this more in another piece on another day.   

So back to world news. Oh yeah.....humans are f-ing up the world!

We seem to have forgotten or some may never have realized that all we have didn't just appear one day. It was given to us by our Creator (I call Him God) and He gave us some very simple rules to live by in order to keep and maintain this world and in gratitude, just what did we go and do? We deny Him and His rules. We mock Him and we make it seem as if humans created God rather than God creating humans. What is worse is in the name of religion, we put human ideology and interpretations into God's own words. 

We have removed God from all places, including some churches, and replaced Him with self-serving ideals, greed and the desire to please and serve ourselves rather than to please and serve Him. We give ourselves all the glory and God none of it. Instead of reading God's word and following His teachings, we paraphrase and manipulate until we hear the message that is easiest on our ears and the one that fits in with our own wants and desires. Anything is wrong if we claim it to be in the Bible and if that is our agenda, just as anything is right if we manipulate and reword God/Jesus's teachings to make it seem that whatever we want or do is not only acceptable but also Biblical. Playing God is not a good look for anyone but God. 

Now we sit with a war in Isreal and a social media full of people who have been previously shut down and shut up speaking out about everything from our current world following Biblical prophecy to child trafficking and the evil one and his followers alive and well and growing in numbers......right before our very eyes, should we choose to open them. 

Okay, so I am not a conspiracy theorist, but I am also not stupid. I am of the mind that this world is very big and there is much we don't know. I have also lived long enough to know that not everything is what it seems, but then again, some things are EXACTLY what they seem. Some of the stuff that is currently being talked about has some pretty compelling "facts" to go along with the stories. It's hard not to question the validity of some of the things that are being discussed. Moreso, there are many people who you would not think to be wild and out there backing up some of the things we are hearing. So what are we supposed to believe and how are we supposed to react? To further confuse the whole conundrum, with the onset of AI, we can't even go by the old adage, "I'll believe it when I see it." The fact is, just because you see it, doesn't always make it real anymore. 

Don't even get me started on AI and man's desire to create what can actually and no doubt will actually destroy him down the line. Yes....we humans are just fantastic creatures.  <heavy on the eye roll>

Then there is me. In the last couple of years, I have been suffering from a crisis. I don't want to call it a crisis of faith, because I have never lost my belief in God, my faith, or the belief in the power of prayer. I guess then, it is a crisis of ME! I have become one of those humans who has become so frustrated with other humans in all facets of life (including religion) that it has been too easy for me to take steps back and reexamine literally everything. 

I have begun to question so much about our world and the human aspect of it all that it has made me not like other humans very much. Are things really getting worse, or do all people my age pass that judgment. OR have things been getting progressively worse over time and that judgment for each generation has been correct? We have become a world of haters and hypocrites who can't view the past for what it was, and accept it for those times and how the people of those times viewed things, acted, and reacted. Instead, we want to put today's values and viewpoints on a people and time where today's values have no place. Thus, we want to ignore and/or cancel the past, totally forgetting that without the past in all of its triumphs and faults, we can't learn and thus make a better tomorrow. Another human failure. 

With all the questions I have been pondering, I have not remained faithful in my religion and that has been something that has literally eaten a hole in my soul. Now don't get me wrong, I was born a Roman Catholic and I am still a RC, but like anything else, the human aspect of it all, yes even the church bothers me. I have become so frustrated with people who call the Church home and yet try to bend and twist the Church's teachings to fit their way of thinking and believing. Why? What is this all about? If the Church doesn't suit your sensibilities then maybe you are in the wrong church, but quit trying to make the Church human run, when truthfully it is God's church in which we are to serve Him and His word, not Him serve us and what we want. 

If it's a self-serving church you want, perhaps you are looking at the wrong end of the spectrum. 

In all of my questioning and soul-gouging, I have been waiting. I have tried to listen quietly and hear what God might want of me personally. I have asked in prayer and even talked to Him as a father to a  daughter. What does my father want of me? Last night, I think the answer hit me. 

As I was watching videos about the world and all that is wrong and evil with it because of self-serving humans, and as I worried (a little) about AI and the deception that it could bring to this already deceptive world, I asked myself, how will I know? How will I be able to tell true goodness from true evil? After all, the evil one hides in plain sight in our world whether it is in our music, our schools, our government, and yes, even our churches. So how will I know if I am doing right or wrong, following the good or the bad? Then it hit me, GO TO CHURCH! Follow not the humans, but the word of God. Pray every day for guidance and the ability to avoid that which is not of God. But then there was one more thing that hit my heart like a ton of brick. We ARE in end times. We have been since day one and how we follow God's words and teachings is going to be the determining factor of our eternity.

 Miraculously, at that moment, some of my Confirmation teachings came back to me. (For those wondering, in the Catholic church, Confirmation is one of the seven sacraments of our faith at which time, we become a soldier of Christ. You can't receive this sacrament unless you are old enough to understand what the church and your faith are all about). Words like "Love your neighbor as yourself for the love of God," hit me pretty powerfully. "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Light," also played over in my mind. After sleeping on all of this, this morning, one other thought kept dancing around, "Be not afraid." These were my favorite words of Pope St. John Paul II. I have loved these words so much that they are literally tattooed on my arm. 

So how am I to go forward? I am going back to church.....God's church. I am going to receive the sacraments every chance I get, and even though the human aspect of things is what has bothered me, my job is to follow my faith and first and foremost do as God commanded. I will love my fellow man as if they are my own flesh and blood because they, like myself, are created by God. I cannot change any other human, but I can change myself, and perhaps through that, others might see and find something in me that helps to change them. I will do my best each and every day to show kindness and compassion, find the good and positive in the world (something I have been struggling with) live all of God's commandments, and live to serve God and not ask God (even in prayer requests) to serve me. His will not mine. I will do all of this without fear and have complete faith that by following God, He will lead me to where I need to be. 

WOW!!! I'm going to be pretty busy just worrying about my own soul and loving others regardless of their souls. Remember, Jesus didn't hang out with the self-professed "holy" ones. He hung out with the broken and bad. Many of those later became saints. Little fun fact, many saints were sinners first. 

See, I told you I had no idea where this was going or how deep it would get. If you felt triggered by anything I said, maybe ask yourself why. I don't typically talk about God this much but today, I think this is what He wanted and this is what I needed....not so much God in general, but my relationship with God and the hypocrisy which I have been feeling towards my fellow humans. 

We do live in a crazy world and without a path, just where might we end up? Who knows how this all is going to end and what we might find out along the way, but perhaps, the upside in all of this, at least for me, is that my crisis of me, may just be at an end. 

Today I fast and pray for peace for Israel and for each of you, you all remain in my thoughts and prayers. 

Even in Our Darkest Hours.......

As most of you who know me know, I may not be fearless in most walks of my life, but in blogging, I typically am. I usually have no fear of what I say or how I say it. Today though is different. 

I have wanted to write today's blog piece for a while, and when I finally got the permission to do so, all my writing fearlessness flew out the window, so it has taken me a while to get here. Why? Because this piece is about someone whose faith and strength astounds me. I am in awe of her and I want my words to do her story and her words justice. 

I feel this story is hugely important and should be told with the grace and dignity in which it has been lived. I know, like myself, others will hear this story and find their own healing and inspiration in it. This story, simply can't help but touch others deeply and profoundly, and I only hope that my telling of it will honor all involved. 

Years ago, I had a little hair and nail salon in our little town. I was the nail tech and my days were spent doing two things I loved, doing nails and talking to people. While I loved all of my clients, there were a few that were special to my heart. One of those was an amazing woman named Tutti. Her name alone provoked a smile and her outlook on life and the vivaciousness of her spirit lived up to her name. 

My nail table was tucked out of the way in a little corner of the shop, with good reason. When my favorites came in, often we spent a great deal of time laughing. Tutti wasn't only one of my favorites because of her spirit and personality, she was also one of my favorites because she gave me free rein over her nails. She would say, "What do you think suits me this time?" She would walk out with everything from palm trees, to fish, to tropical birds on her nails and she always seemed to love whatever I did. 

Tutti's favorite subject to talk about during her nail appointments was her kids and most especially,  her beautiful little curly-haired daughter named Stephanie. She would always walk in, sit down and say, "Now ask me what they did this week." Then she would regale me with some hilarious story that Stephanie or the boys did. It was obvious those kids were her heart and I loved every story she told. 

Eventually, I sold my shop and moved on. Too many hours smelling perms and acetone took its toll on me and I got out of the business. In time I lost track of my customers, even my favorites. Years later, I was doing a cancer walk at the old high school track when I was told that Tutti had battled cancer and had lost her battle a few years earlier. It made me tremendously sad that I had lost track of her and had not known this. 

It was at this same walk, that Tutti's daughter Stephanie was pointed out to me. She too was there for the walk. She was at this time,  a grown young woman, and a striking beauty. I immediately walked up to her and introduced myself, telling her that I knew her mother and that I was so sorry for her loss. Stephanie had no idea who I was, but she was kind and gracious and so amazingly poised. I saw so much of Tutti in her. 

Skip ahead to just several years ago. My David was in grade school and he was going through a really rough time with a lot of sudden changes in his school life that were prompting a great deal of seizure activity. I was at a crossroads trying to decide whether continuing in school was even the right path for him or not. Then along came Stephanie. She was an RN that had previously worked at the cancer center, but had changed jobs and been hired by the school district after her son was born. With all the issues David had been having, the school realized that they were on the verge of losing him as a student, and that at the time, he needed someone more medically based than a para, so they put Stephanie with him. It was one of the wisest decisions they had made at the time. In a lot of ways, Stephanie turned David's world around and in her, he found compassion and stability at the school that I don't think he had felt in the presence of others. 

Stephanie literally was a game changer for David and through her care and kindness, she gave him the  dignity and respect, that others had neglected in showing him. Her nursing skills were a Godsend too as she was ever vigilant where his seizures were concerned, and if she ever became concerned with his health, she didn't hesitate to bring those concerns straight to me. It gave me a peace of mind with David and school that I hadn't had for a while. 

The impact that Stephanie's presence had on David was so amazing, but deep in my heart, I knew that working at the school was not to be Stephanies true path, so when I was told she was leaving the school district, I was not surprised. I was even less surprised when I found out that she was going back to work at the cancer center. This was where her heart truly was at. 

Like time always does, it moved on. I kept in touch with Stephanie as all of us in the 21st century do, through social media. I watched Stephanie and her husband Jeff have kids and raise them. They were a beautiful family and they were busy with sports and coaching little league, moving homes and jobs, and establishing a life full of love and adventures that they shared in their pictures and posts. It was a joy to watch and a bright spot in my day to see Stephanie's posts. 

True to her kind nature, she often also posted about her job, or more often, her patients posted about her and how she had helped them through chemo and on their cancer journey. There were also the sweetest posts from Jeff on her timeline as he celebrated her on birthdays and anniversary's and Stephanie showed the same love in return. It was as if, even as young as they were, they realized what they had in each other and they were grateful for every moment they shared together. 

On July 11, 2019, as I skimmed a post Stephanie had made, I stopped reading mid sentence and had to start reading the whole post again. What I read literally brought tears to my eyes. I am sure that I was not alone. 

Jeff had been having some "concerning symptoms" and after going to the ER, they learned that he had a mass in his brain. After a brain biopsy, they learned that he did in fact have a Glioblastoma, which for those of us who don't speak oncology, this was a very aggressive brain tumor. Being true to the nurse that she is, in the same post, Stephanie was already in fight mode and she and Jeff were getting a game plan in place in which they had every intention of giving this cancer a run for its money. I was sure that if anyone could do it, this family could. 

Say what you will about small towns, but ours is a pretty awesome place. The minute word was out about Jeff's battle, our town vowed to battle right along with him. Stephanie and Jeff had an amazing circle of family and friends which grew exponentially in the days, weeks, months, and years that followed. People were reaching out to help this family in any way they could. There were fundraisers, t-shirts, and prayer requests going out to all churches, all faiths, and all people. While I am sure at times that Stephanie and Jeff felt this battle was a solitary quest, the fact was, there was love and prayers coming at them from all directions, especially from those whom Stephanie had been there for during their own cancer journey's. 

In the weeks that followed, you couldn't go anywhere without seeing "Team Hoag" and "Hoag Strong" t-shirts, and social media was filled with posts of family, friends, and strangers sporting the t-shirts in support of  Jeff and his family. The love and kindness this couple had given out so freely to others, was now coming back to them a thousandfold. This family was not fighting alone. 

Even though I never had the pleasure of meeting Jeff, I prayed for him daily and for Stephanie and the kids, because I knew from my own family experience with cancer, that it affected the entire family. I had read a little about Glioblastoma and I knew that this family was in for a rough road ahead. 

Early on, someone had posted on FB, "God gives the toughest battles to his strongest soldiers." This proved to be such a true statement. Jeff and Stephanie knew the odds of survival from this type of cancer, and yet they decided regardless of the outcome, cancer would not win! They refused to allow this monster to damage or destroy their lives, even when things got really tough. 

Anyone who has gone through cancer or loved someone through cancer, knows there are good days and bad days and sometimes those bad days are really, really bad. There are doctors appointments and specialists that often require travel to see, and through it all, the disease can become the focal point of your life. Cancer just seems to take control, and yet through sheer willpower and determination, Jeff and Stephanie fought cancer like champs and somehow continued to live their lives even in the throes of battle. They took vacations, family photos, celebrated holidays, coached sports and shared life, made memories with their kids, and shared laughter and love with family and friends. 

Jeff lived fearlessly and touched lives with his faith and indomitable spirit. Never did you see a picture that he wasn't smiling in and never did you read a post that gratitude for the life he had and all that he had been given wasn't in every word. Rather than let cancer consume him and make him bitter, he used it as a gift to spur on faith in others and motivate both old and young with the knowledge that even a disease like cancer only has power over us, if we allow it power. He never once gave it power. 

Cancer, though it may only strike one in the family, is very much a family disease. Stephanie, being an oncology nurse, remained hopeful but realistic. Her posts gave a candid look into her world.  She was holding on for dear life to her husband, her family, and her future, and yet, being the faith-filled woman she is, she was also very aware that their hope might not be God's will. Because of this reality, she at times posted some of the most real and moving posts I have ever read, acknowledging both the emotional trials she was going through and yet the gratitude and faith that she never lost sight of. 

One such post was just months into the cancer diagnosis when she said, "This season is one of the toughest of all times. Sometimes it can feel lonely and heavy, but I know I have a wonderful tribe of women in my life that are always checking in and willing to help carry a few bricks. I've never been good at accepting help, but I'm so thankful for these women- they get me, and they show up even when I try to push them away." 

On Jan. 1, 2020, Stephanie wrote a beautiful post about her blessings. She refused to focus on anything but the good and gave a laundry list of blessings and gratitude. It touched me deeply and I am sure I was not alone. She was starting 2020 with gratitude, grace, and hope in the midst of what many, myself included, might have fallen apart over. 

In 2020, they added a fur baby to their family and continued fighting. Stephanie shared the occasional update on Jeff's health but more often than not, their posts were full of them living their lives, experiencing milestones, and enjoying the life they had as a family. 

Through the entire ordeal, Jeff and Stephanie lived their cancer truth out loud and their kids, even as young as they are, were aware of what was going on. I think one of the most poignant posts I ever saw, was in August 2020, from Stephanie who had shared a picture of their huge backyard, and their 7-year-old son mowing it with a push mower. Her post began, "The lines in our yard use to be straight. Jeff's a perfectionist at heart, and the straight lines he made in the yard reflected just that. 

Today, I cried over crooked lines. I cried because this 7 year old volunteered to mow the lawn for his dad. Our yard is no small task, but he mowed every single line and pushed up both sides of the house against those dreadful hills." 

I couldn't help but stare at the picture of that small figure in that big yard. That young man was learning some of lifes toughest lessons at such an early age. That is likely one moment in his life that he will never forget. 

In November of 2020, Stephanie shared fall family photos they had done. As I looked at those beautiful, amazing photos, I couldn't help the tears that snuck out and traveled down my face. There was something so beautiful about each of them. They were precious memories caught in a perfect moment. Something told me deep in my heart that these photos above all the other photos they had shared over time, would always hold a special place in all their hearts. 

Through the holidays, I had not seen many posts from Stephanie. I figured that like everyone else, it was a busy time. I truly hoped that no news might mean something positive. 

On February 19, 2021, a post from Stephanie caught my attention and made my heart sink. The news was not good. The tumor was continuing to grow and essentially they had run out of good choices. Jeff was on a new medication and they were just praying that it would stop the growth. Stephanies final words on the post were, "We knew this was going to be a bumpy road and at some point, we may find ourselves in unchartered waters. It's frightening, and I keep telling myself it's not supposed to be like this, but I know we're not done here, this battle's not over- we're not giving up Hope, and we'll continue to stand on His promise.... and that's my promise to them."

The faith she had. The faith she shared. The faith they had together. I was in awe. 

On April 5, 2021, I held back tears once again. Stephanie shared a picture of a smiling Jeff holding both his children when their youngest was born. You could just tell that next to being Stephanie's husband, being a dad was his favorite thing in life. His face was beaming. Stephanie's post stated, "I experienced one of the most heartbreaking moments as a parent yesterday. Individually, I had to tell my children that their daddy will be transitioning to heaven soon. Those heart-rendered faces are forever etched into my brain. They're fighters, and I pray that one day they find that special kind of perspective on life, that only comes from such heartache. Starting today, we're signing onto hospice. We've finished the course, we've kept the faith and as Jeff told Dr. Truong 'we won'.

She ended it by saying, "I'm heartbroken, but I'll continue to search out the blessings in these raindrops. It's going to be 'okay', even if it's not the okay we wanted...." 

Oh those last words! I cried like a baby.  

On April 27, 2021, Stephanie's post began, "Jeff took his final breaths last night. He crossed over to his heavenly body- no more cancer and no more pain. He WON." 

Even now as I read those words, the tears flow. Having lost my own husband, my own best friend, and the one I planned to grow old with twenty years prior, I knew the pain and sadness she was feeling and her words in the midst of all that pain, literally took my breath away. 

In the days and weeks that followed, there was an outpouring of love for Stephanie and the kids and so many beautiful memorials and memories of and for Jeff. His strength and his faith while fighting such an uncompromising and evil opponent touched so many lives and the lessons he taught about strength through adversity and never giving up, will stay with so many for the rest of their lives. In my mind though, the most important lesson he taught, was to his own children. He showed them that life isn't always easy or fair, and sometimes life doesn't go our way, but through it all, you can always find joy, peace and so many things to be grateful for, and in the end, he taught them to both live and die with grace and dignity in the acceptance of God's will. 

On June 14, 2021, nearly two months after Jeff died, Stephanie made this post. 

"I read something the other day that said ‘True Joy is found in the release’… read that again. It’s powerful and it’s real, and my heart needed to read it.

I returned to work a few weeks ago, and my heart needed that too. For me, a large part of my identity is in the release. It's giving back and helping others, but also on a more simple scale- it's holding the door for someone, providing a compliment to a stranger, taking a phone call in the middle of the night, or just providing a shoulder to someone in need. I'm not saying it's the same for everyone, but part of my Joy comes from sharing it with others.

Someone asked me the other day if I planned to share my journey with grief. I'm not sure my perspective will be helpful to anyone because I think we all carry it differently, but I'm willing to share and be vulnerable in the hope that maybe it will help someone.

So the truth is, I ended up on my kitchen floor Friday afternoon crying, because I simply came across a picture of Jeff from a year ago. It crumbled me. I let that wave hit me and hit me again, and you know what happened?.... I eventually got up.

Often times I find myself trying to validate my feelings, but I'm learning there is no right or wrong. When you're standing in the ocean you can't stop a wave. All you can do is ride it out and know that it won't last forever.

I realize that a part of me went with him and throughout this new journey comes finding that part of myself again. My goals and perspective have shifted slightly. The success and future of my family is now solely on my shoulders. I'll probably end up on my kitchen floor a few more times, but I promise you I will keep getting up and moving forward.

Maybe that's also part of the release though... going forward towards things that provide fulfillment, happiness, opportunity- but doing so unapologetically. God's going to lead our hearts down the path he's created for us... we're faithful, ready, and all in.

Whatever it is that's weighing you down, find a way to put it back into the world... and see what goodness might just come your way."

As I read this, it struck me so deeply. It was in that moment, that I just knew that this story had to be told for others outside our little town and outside Stephanie and Jeff's close-knit circle of loved ones and friends to read. I knew how deeply Jeff's story had affected me. It was a story of strength and determination with undoubting faith that in the end, he would win. He did. But moreover, this is also a love story. It is the story of a love so strong and a faith so deep that even when the ending wasn't what Stephanie had hoped for, she still found the grace to be grateful for the life she shared with Jeff and their kids.

Loss is never easy and when you lose the one you were supposed to grow old with, sometimes the pain is excruciating, but to see beyond the pain and to keep taking those next steps forward into unchartered territory takes a strength and faith that not everyone understands.

I am extremely grateful and honored that Stephanie allowed me to tell her story and to share her journey with you. It is my hope, that through Stephanie's words and the life she has lived and continues to live today, that she may give someone else the strength they need to keep the faith, to hold on to hope, and to fully understand, that even in our darkest hours......God always gives us light.

She Never Gave Up Trying

 Last Wednesday, I got a call that probably shouldn't have come as a surprise, but still, it did. On the other end, I heard, "Aunt Ruthie died." It was my brother. He was the only other person, besides my kids that called her that. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and in the hours and days that have followed, my mind has been flooded with so many memories of this woman and how lucky I was to call her Aunt. 

From my earliest days, Ruth Heatley was Aunt Ruthie to me. She was my mom's older sister and one of the "little girls" in the Dougherty family. She was seven years older than my mom, but as time went on, that 7-year distance grew much shorter, as they became each other's confidant, critic, cheerleader, and ultimately....best friend. 

Funny thing, growing up, my mom's name was Mary Jane, and all of Aunt Ruthie's kids called her Aunt Janey until they became teenagers or a little older, then they called her Aunt Mary Jane, but for some reason, Aunt Ruthie always stuck with my brother and me. I remember one time when I was in my early twenties, my mom took me aside and told me that she thought I needed to start calling Aunt Ruthie, Aunt Ruth. I was shocked! Mom told me that she thought I had grown out of calling her "Ruthie" and Aunt Ruthie had grown out of being called Ruthie, especially since we were the only ones who called her that. For some reason this did not sit well with me, so me, being me, the next time I saw Aunt Ruthie, I asked her if she did not want me calling her "Ruthie" anymore. I know it startled her, but perhaps I looked or sounded wounded when I asked because she immediately smiled and said, "Lisa, if you want to call me Aunt Ruthie, you can call me Aunt Ruthie for as long as you like." I was relieved and from that day forward, the subject was never brought up again. And moreover, a new generation, my kids, also called her Aunt Ruthie. Whether she liked it or hated it, the poor woman was stuck with it. 

Aunt Ruthie was born Ruth Ann Dougherty on March 1, 1929, in Hinton, OK. She was the 8th in line of the Dougherty kids. Mom always told me that growing up, Ruth was smart and she was beautiful. She and her older sister Helen Irene (the other little girl) were very close and where one was, the other was not too far behind. They were often left with helping cook and clean as the older girls were mostly gone and the boys spent their days in the fields. They also had the "privilege" of helping watch the three little kids, one of whom was my mom and all who were ornery every chance they got. 

Mom, being the storyteller that she was, loved telling stories on her siblings, and Aunt Ruthie was no exception. Reading between the lines, I gathered that there might have been a little sibling rivalry between Mom and Ruth, as Ruth wasn't above getting a little bossy, and Mom wasn't above getting a little feisty. 

Apparently, there was a time when Grandpa and Grandma went to town and Ruth and Helen were left to clean the house and watch the little kids. Ruth told my mom to help her mop. Mom who much preferred to be outside was not happy about the mopping situation and after a bit of an argument, Mom grabbed the mop handle from the bucket, flinging the handle over her shoulder. Mom did not realize that Ruth had stepped up behind her and she nailed Ruth right between the eyes. Luckily a good size bump and bruise were all that Ruth ended up with, but if you read my Uncle Pat's story of the bat, you might see a pattern here. 

When Ruth was in high school, Frank Sinatra was the singer of the hour and the crooner who sent young bobbysoxers into fits of adoration when he sang. This always amused my mother as yes, she liked his voice, but as far as his looks, she was not impressed. She said he was too skinny and not remotely her type. Ruth on the other hand must have found him dreamy, as Mom would tease that every time he came on the radio, Ruth would always put a hand to her forehead and scream, "Oh Frankie!" I always thought this was just a humorous exaggeration until one time we were at Aunt Ruthies and Mom brought up "Frankie". I asked Aunt Ruthie if it were true, mostly thinking that she would deny it. Instead, Aunt Ruthie turned bright red and said, "Really Mary?" Mom and her both laughed and that day I saw a different side to my aunt. 

Now, it has been a long while since I have heard the stories and I really don't have much to fact check this on, but I believe after graduating from Hinton High School, Ruth went on to college at Weatherford. She was going to get her teaching degree and it was here that she met a tall lanky boy named Warren Heatley. I am not quite sure how quickly they became smitten with each other, but eventually, they did. 

Warren was not a Catholic boy, but he was a nice boy, and religion aside, he passed the parent's test. Both Grandma and Grandpa liked him, but he was a boy, after all, so every time he came to visit, Mom was put in charge of "chaperoning" them. This meant every chance the two young lovebirds got to be alone, Mom was to insinuate herself into the mix and make sure nothing more than hand-holding went on. Knowing my mom, I am sure that she took some form of delight in her parental approved harassment, just as I am sure Ruth and Warren did not. 

On November 23, 1950, the chaperoning was over and Ruth and Warren were married. Again, I don't have all my facts for sure, but as I heard it, Ruth and Warren lived in and around Oklahoma City. Ruth was a teacher for a while and Warren began his career in the oil industry. Eventually, they moved to Wichita, KS, built a house, and continued growing their family. By 1963, Susie, the last of their kids was born. This is where my memories began.  

For me as a kid, there was nothing like going to Aunt Ruthies. Susie and I were about 11 months apart and most of our childhood years, we were close. Going to their house was Disneyland and Christmas, all rolled into one for me. Perhaps it was because Aunt Ruthie had five kids and she was at that point in her child-raising, that if there wasn't blood involved and she didn't have to drive anyone anywhere, she was okay with us doing it. This meant running around the neighborhood, walking to the store, riding bikes to the pool, and going on long walks with Susie's older sister Sandy. It was an ease and freedom that I just never felt at home. Even playing in their yard was fun, as they had drilled out oil barrels that you could roll around in, and on occasions, Mark and Warren, Susie's brothers, would push us all over the yard in the wagon. 

There were just so many memories in that house, from sliding down the banister to the front door to the little door on the side of the house. There was the toybox, that had a huge wooden lid that if you weren't careful and quick could fall on you and the cement stairs that went from outside the kitchen to the ground. And St. Margaret Mary's. It was the first time I knew that you could go to daily mass at 6:30 in the morning. To this day, I can still close my eyes and smell the smells of that house and remember cowboy and ballerina wallpaper, the piano in the living room, and Uncle Warren yelling at us to close the basement door. I adored that house, that family, and most especially, Aunt Ruthie. 

As a kid, my growing up years had a great many Aunt Ruthie memories. The Heatley's had a blue-green Pontiac station wagon, and many were the time that we all loaded into the wagon, to travel across the southern border into Oklahoma. With the station wagon loaded, kids shoved in every available space, and bread and butter sandwiches and a thermos of water, we would head out. The Oklahoma trips usually were just a couple of days and then we would all load back into the station wagon, exhausted and covered in Oklahoma red clay, already talking about the next trip we would make. 

Aunt Ruthie and Mom always made our excursions entertaining, if not downright fun. There was always a lot of talking and over talking and lots and lots of laughter. Aunt Ruthie seemed to be the one person in Mom's life that she carried from one chapter to the next and had no plans of letting go of. 

In 1975/76, Aunt Ruthie and Uncle Warren decided to give up their home in Wichita, and build their dream home on a plot of land they had out in Mulvane, a town about 10 miles south of Wichita. It just so happened that my dad decided that Mulvane was going to be our forever hometown too. Susie and I were just entering junior high school and we were all about to head into a new chapter in life. 

Once we were all settled in Mulvane, Aunt Ruthie began having periodic dinners. She would invite us all out and there would be roast, creamed potatoes, sometimes german sausage, green beans, homemade bread, cinnamon rolls, and angel food cake. It was always delicious and we couldn't wait for our next invitation.  

 It was at this time in all our lives that I really got a glimpse of who Aunt Ruthie really was. While she did just fine in the city, she was a country girl at heart and her world became her little plot of land, her garden, her family, her church, and our little town. 

Aunt Ruthie loved our little St. Michaels Church and for years taught religious education classes there. Many is the Mulvane Catholic who has fond memories of having Mrs. Heatley as their teacher. Her religious education did not just stop at the church though, She often would bestow her religious wisdom on Susie and me too. She told us one time, that her vision of heaven was a place where we could eat whatever we wanted and never get fat. I told my mom this, and I remember she couldn't help but laugh. Aunt Ruthie seemed to spend most of her adult years on a diet (and she didn't really need to), so it made perfect sense that heaven as she saw it, would be skinny jeans and an all you can eat buffet. 

One of the things I remember Aunt Ruthie saying to me was, the only difference between us and Saints, was that the Saints just kept on trying. I know she didn't come up with this statement, but I think she definitely lived it, and it has always stayed with me. 

In 1983, Wichita, KS had its Summer of Mercy. It was a major protesting of a local abortion clinic. Aunt Ruthie was deeply pro-life and during that summer, she spent a great deal of time on the front lines, praying the rosary and picketing. Mom went with her on occasions, but this was Aunt Ruthie's true passion and she felt this was where she was supposed to be at that moment in time. At the time, Wichita was making the national news every night, and even though the protests were by and large peaceful, every day, arrests were being made. I know it worried Mom, but Aunt Ruthie was determined and this was a fight she found worth risking her freedom for. Eventually, it happened and she was arrested. She gave no resistance and she was carried by the police to the wagon and taken to Sedgwick County jail. I remember asking her if the police were rough with her and she said, "No." She said, they were hot, tired, and just doing their job. 

I cringed to think of my little Aunt Ruthie in jail, but I don't think it really affected her badly at all. She said that along with others that had been arrested alongside her, there were some "really nice" ladies in there. She said, she prayed, they all talked and these ladies seemed genuinely concerned that she and some of the others had been arrested. For Aunt Ruthie though, I think she felt that it was all just part of the process. 

I have no idea how long she was in jail, as I recall it wasn't long, but had they kept her longer, I am sure she would have withstood it all without question, for she truly believed in what she was fighting for. From that moment on, I always saw her in a different light. Perhaps she was Saint bound after all.  

In 1989, Aunt Ruthie lost her beloved Warren to cancer, but not before he joined the church. It wasn't because of insistence or prodding on her part. Instead, I think, it was from quietly watching her all those years, attending mass, praying the rosary, and living her faith each and every minute of each and every day.

After Uncle Warren died, Mom and Aunt Ruthie seemed to get closer, if that were even possible. As the years went on, they began going out to eat and shopping together. They even took a few trips together and really enjoyed each other's company. The one place they found that they could not be together though,  was side by side in church. There was something about the quiet and respectful setting, that made these two grown women dissolve into fits of childish laughter when they sat in the same pew. And we aren't talking just a giggle or two, we are talking full-on wheezing, snorting laughter. 

My first realization of what a problem this was, happened at my Grandpa's funeral. All the siblings had walked in and been seated in a pew. I was sitting back a ways where I could see the whole thing unfold. There were tears and sadness until one of the siblings arrived late and went to join the already packed pew. The sibling was in a state of grief and barely aware of anything but finding a seat and sitting down. As they took the seat, they kind of swung their hip to enter the pew. Being that everyone was in sardine-like proximity, that hip swing caused a chain reaction down the pew, shoving each person, until it got to my Aunt Malene on the end, as she went flying out of the pew. Who was sitting next to her? Mom and Aunt Ruthie of course. I remember the look on Aunt Malene's face was one of shock and then irritation. Mom and Aunt Ruthie saw it too and then suddenly, they began to giggle. Within seconds, their giggles were full-on laughing snorts, and Aunt Malene realizing why they were laughing also began laughing. Aunt Margaret was sitting on the other side of them and she kept giving them death stares, which made them laugh all the harder. Now to the unobservant eye, they looked as if they were shaking with grief and crying, but I knew what was going on. This was just a Dougherty thing. 

As time went on, it got no better and eventually, Mom and Aunt Ruthie realized that they must have separate pews or they would be misbehaving in church. You have no idea how much I miss those days. 

In the years that followed, it was obvious that Aunt Ruthie's heart was that of a servant's heart. When Aunt Margaret was sick, Aunt Ruthie dedicated a huge amount of her time and her life to being her caretaker, until she no longer could, and then she would spend every day at the nursing home with her until she passed away in 2007. 

After my husband Tim passed away, I remember Aunt Ruthie calling me and telling me that she knew it was hard, but she also knew I was strong and I would get through it. I asked her how she knew and she said, because she got through it when Uncle Warren died, so she knew I could too. She then told me that she was sure Tim was up in heaven cooking for everyone, and for some reason that made me feel better. Oh, Aunt Ruthie and her food in heaven. 

When my mom died in 2002, I know it was hard on Aunt Ruthie. Not only did she lose her baby sister, but she also lost a life long friend. From time to time she would call me, just to check-in and to talk about Mom. We always ended up talking about some silly thing that Mom did or that they did together, and we would laugh, and tear up a bit. Those talks helped me more than she could ever know. 

In the last few years, my once energetic aunt had grown weak in body. She ended up being moved to the Catholic Care Center in Wichita, where she spent her last days. At first, I talked to her pretty regularly on the phone. She sounded good and hopeful that her current circumstances weren't permanent. As time went on though, she knew and we knew.... 

In the last year, often I would think of Aunt Ruthie and start to call, but life would jump in and I didn't. I guess I always thought there would be more time. So that call on Wednesday should have been no surprise, but it was. It was an ending for a lifetime of memories, smiles, and laughter. Aunt Ruthie was brave and she was stronger than most of us. Her faith was never wavering and in the end, just like all Saints, she never gave up trying. 

So....I Went to Mass Today

So..... I went to Mass today. It was only my second time being in the church since the whole COVID-19 thing took over all our lives. The first time was was back in June, when it looked for a brief shining moment, like we might get back to something that looked like normal....but we didn't. 

No, I have not become a CINO (Catholic in name only). I have continued to hold onto my faith, pray like crazy and "attend" Mass on YouTube weekly, but currently, so much is going on in the world, that I decided I needed to head to God's home and the place where I feel His presence the most.

Now our town, though small, has many churches and my church, St. Michael the Archangel, has several hundred families that are practicing Catholics who attend. Those people are usually divided up in attendance in three different Masses each Saturday evening and Sunday morning. As happens with most things, people get comfortable with a certain Mass time and unless they have a scheduling conflict, that becomes the service they frequent. At any given service, the church is two thirds to completely full, with people arriving up to 30 minutes early to say the rosary before Mass begins.

Today, I decided to go at 11:00 a.m.  I was moving rather slow and so as I pulled up, it was about 10:45. My heart literally sank as I parked my car. There were only two other cars in the parking lot. I walked in and the church was all but empty with only three of us in the pews. I knelt down and almost cried. Is this where we were at? Have we become so fearful, that we can't even allow ourselves the sanctuary of God's house?  I prayed my rosary silently.

Within in the next fifteen minutes, more people trickled in and by the start of Mass, the church was less than about a third full (which 1/3rd full is the current recommended capacity for any public building). There was great sadness inside me as I sat there realizing how much the threat of this virus was taking from us and I couldn't help but wonder after this is all over, how many will have completely lost their faith, their way and some even their lives, due to the threat, the fear and the anxiety of COVID-19?

As I sat there, a warm comfort came over me. It is the same way I always feel stepping into this church. I feel a peace and closeness with God that I truly feel no place else. Every time I walk through those doors and into that church, I feel as if I am home. I had no idea how much I had missed not being there, or how much my heart, my soul and my mind needed to be there. Online Mass services may be allowed as a replacement for attending Mass during this "pandemic" according to the dioceses, but it is an empty experience compared to actually being there and being a part of the Mass in all of its beauty and soulful healing.

Suddenly, while praying, out of nowhere, I heard my mothers voice in my head. It was from a conversation that she and I had had many times in my life. She was a child of WWII. She knew that often faith and politics don't mix and thus, faith is discouraged if not destroyed as the rules of God do not always suit the rules of man and thus man tries to destroy the undestroyable....God. Often my mom cautioned me, that there could come a time in my life that "man" might try to force me to choose between God and the secular world. I might even be coerced into denying God to save my own life or that of those I love. She warned me that I must always choose God, for with God all things are possible and if death is the ultimate outcome (and lets face it, we are all going to die one way or another), then those that die choosing God have eternal life. It just all comes down to faith.

So then as I sat in the quiet with my rosary in my hand, it all began to make sense. Mom was not wrong. No, it wasn't some Hitlerish dictator standing over me demanding my allegiance to him and a subsequent denial of God and my faith, (as I am sure she often imagined), but it was still an attempt to force me to deny....or disregard my faith nonetheless.

Throughout the centuries, when things in the world became bad and nearly catastrophic, people of faith always found their way to church...the house of God. Here they knew that God was bigger than anything this secular world could dish out and they were protected by their faith and His grace. It was a faith that got people through famines, wars, deaths and even destruction of all that was around them. Faith in God and God's grace are a mighty armor and it can protect those that believe, from the worst fear to the gravest reality. If you have complete faith in God, then this world and the worst it has to offer are simply no match for the power of the Almighty. So by hiding in fear and not physically attending Mass, in a very real way, I was denying God and allowing fear to override my faith. In essence, I have been doing exactly what my mother warned me against. She was a very smart woman who knew what was coming, she just never could have imagine what form it would take.

The reality of today truly got me to thinking. While some have grabbed their faith and clung to it through all of this, many have found themselves worshiping at the feet of fear and with churches being deemed non-essential, people are losing their foundation in their faith and being drawn into chaos and the worst of secularism in our world. We are at one of the lowest points our country has seen in modern times with unprecedented issues and actions, from deception, to fear, to rioting, looting and murder in the streets. We are drowning in it all emotionally and many are succumbing to the devastation and negativity and losing emotional battles within themselves resulting in abuse, addiction and even death. The slippery slope that our churches closing put many on, is quickly turning into a landslide that people are losing their footing on and they are forgetting that all they need to do is reach up, grab hold and pray.

While I can't speak for others, their feelings or their faith, I can say that today brought me back to a place that I needed to be. I had allowed my sanctuary to be deemed non-essential, when in reality, it was the most essential part of my life. It is my place of peace, where in just moments I realized that no one but God is in control and in all of the chaos, He is allowing us to learn what is really important in this world. Perhaps we have to know fear, hate, unrest and abject sorrow before we are ready to appreciate our blessings, know that fear cannot walk side by side with faith, that hate never solved anything and that love is a powerful gift. Maybe God is allowing us to bleed a little before we can heal completely. I really don't know God's plan, but I do know that all I must do is ask and He is there. He holds me securely in His grace and never more so than when I am in His house.

None of us knows God's plan for us, nor the hour and design of our death. Those things, only God knows and I have no control over any of it. What I can control though, is how I choose to live my life going forward, and living in fear and robbing myself of my faith and that which is spiritually essential to me, is not living at all.  I need to refocus on the fact that God is bigger than any virus, any riot, any political party and anyone or anything in His creation.

Yes....a lot of lessons were learned today as I pulled myself back to a peaceful center. What a beautiful day to renew my faith and re-evaluate "essential."

So....I went to Mass today.

*As always, this is my blog and these are my thoughts, feelings and opinions. I in no way expect anyone to think, feel or express themselves as I do... just because I do. I do however, expect you to respect my right to have them just as I respect yours.

Church Pew Confessions of an Un-cluttered Mind.....Leap of Faith

I fully intended to blog on this yesterday, but I opted for an all afternoon nap instead and truthfully.....I don't regret a second of it. That being said, my Sunday blog has now become my Monday blog and with that.....I hope you are not too confused.

So as I was sitting in church yesterday, once again I was trying to give my heart, my soul and my mind over to whatever God wanted me to hear. It was a little harder yesterday as I was really tired. It had been a long week and my mind was pretty much mush. I was actually worried that it would be one of those times where Mass would end and I would not even remember being there. Yes....I was that tired. 

As Father began his sermon, I had no actual hope that my eyes would stay open and that I might not be drooling and snoring before it was over. I prayed that God would not let me do that and that I would catch my second wind. Ask and you shall receive. Father was barely two sentences into his sermon when I heard the words, "Leap of Faith." It jolted me out of my almost dozing state and immediately, my mind was off and running. Of course Father tied it into the readings and also about a beloved local Bishop that had just passed away. I did listen to the entire sermon but the whole time my mind kept coming back to "Leap of Faith." It struck a chord.

I started going back in my mind to all the leaps of faith that I had taken in the last couple of decades. Some it seemed like an unseen hand pushed me into the leap and others were situational where I didn't seem to have much of a choice.

The definition of a leap of faith is: an act of believing in or attempting something whose existence or outcome cannot be proved. Many times a leap of faith is prompted by a desperate situation where believing and having faith in the unknown are the only choices we have. If you can't go backward and standing still isn't an option, sometimes jumping headlong into the unknown is all we have.

As I thought about this, I realized I did just this when Tim asked me to marry him and I was terrified of what the future might hold for me as a wife and mother. I did it again when Tim died and I was left raising the kids by myself and my only option was to keep moving forward. And of course, where David is concerned with surgeries and his health, many of those times have been nothing more than a huge leap of faith. There have been other times too and truthfully, not all have worked out the way I hoped they would, but there again, in a leap of faith, the outcome is not guaranteed. The "faith" part is that you know that no matter how it pans out, something positive comes from it. It always does. 

This last year I have been faced with several leaps of faith that I simply did not see coming. When I thought I might lose our home, it was a huge leap of faith to trust in myself, my community, complete strangers and most of all to hand it all over to God and not look back. That may have been the first time that I handed something to Him and then didn't try to play tug of war with Him when I thought my way might be better than His.

Since then, there have been some much less public leaps of faith that I have had to take. They were desperate situations in which I had no choice but to leap and have faith and hope that wherever I landed and whatever the outcome, that we would all end up in one piece. The verdict is still out as I am still leaping and doing my best to have faith that God has got this.

I was fully coherent as I listened to Father and thought, how profound that he would be saying exactly what I needed to hear. Or was it? Perhaps it was all part of a greater plan. At any rate, as I contemplated all of this leaping and faith, it occurred to me that each time I had to forge ahead into the unknown, that each time I came out stronger. Sometimes battered and bruised, but always stronger. Then looking back on this year, I realized that I had pretty much let go of all control and all illusions that I had of control over anything......situations, people and sometimes even my own life. In doing so and in letting go and letting God, I had actually witnessed some pretty astounding miracles and also, that I was changing in ways I never thought possible.

Letting go and leaping into faith has made me stronger in my faith and thus stronger in myself. It has helped me to learn what is important and what is not and to not fight the losing battles, but to put my time and talents into the things where they are best utilized. I have also learned to be kinder to myself and not to have unreasonable expectations of either myself or others. WOW! And I was worried I might fall asleep in Mass.

As Father finished his sermon, it occurred to me that there is so much that I can do that I have never done. I have lived a lot of life out of fear....fear of failing, fear of falling, fear of having no true faith. In some ways it has been debilitating and has stunted my desire to find out more about life and most of all, more about me. This was all quite the startling and enlightening revelation on a quiet Sunday morning.

Before Mass ended, I made a pact with myself and with God. Today is the first day of October and coincidentally also the first day of my birthday month.  I decided that I was going to give myself the greatest gift I ever could. Starting today, I am going to try and take a "leap of faith" everyday. Well, maybe they all won't be momentous, but they will all pull me out of my world of fear and allow me to live outside the little box that I have created for myself. Each day, I will attempt to do something that I have either feared or never attempted before. Most attempts will undoubtedly be small, but some may surprise us all. And each day, I will make the effort to take the leap of faith and turn it ALL over to God with the greatest sincerity and to do everything I can to leave it in His more than capable hands.

Yes, I am changing. I feel it in small ways and see it in my actions and reactions to most situations and to those in my world. I am learning to forgive both myself and others and I am giving myself the gift of kindness on those days that feel anything but kind. Today and for the rest of this month, I will not fall back. I will not stand still. I will however, move forward taking a giant Leap of Faith!

Normal?

Normal. What an obsolete (in my opinion), strange word. When David was born and in the NICU, I was told by nurses, doctors and other parents with special kids that we would establish a new normal. Heck, I myself have also told parents with special kids the same thing over the years. The reality though is...What is normal? Normal can mean a thousand different things to a thousand different people. What I have learned is that whatever you consider normal is fluid. It can change in the blink of an eye. It is kind of like we are constantly resetting our world as to what is normal for the moment. If I had forgotten this, it came back very clearly to me on February 3rd.

The problem with being faced with a crisis that absolutely takes up your every breathing moment is....that it can't. Even in the face of crisis, the world keeps going on around you and especially if you have a family, the routine of life can't just stop. I remember when Tim died and everything fell out of my world, I just wanted everyone and everything to stop and let me catch my breath. How could people be going to work, taking walks, grocery shopping and even laughing......when my world was completely devastated? The truth? Regardless of what happens in life, the world does keep spinning and people keep going, most oblivious to your situation, your frustration or you pain. Life ain't fair. 

My point? Even in the midst of the days dwindling down until the time the infamous letter says we have to be out of our home, life goes on. David still has to eat, be taken care and kept in the routine that he knows and clings to. Groceries have to bought, bills have to be paid and meals have to be prepared. The house has to be kept cleaned, the trash has to go out and the dogs have to be cared for. All of this that before February 3rd, took up my days and kept me busy for what seemed like 24/7, now has to continue, but in the background as I have to add endless calls, talking to my lawyer, planning a fundraiser and trying to figure out  a plan just in case the what ifs do happen and we do lose our home. With all of this, there is little time to sleep or rest which is fine I guess, as my mind is simply too full to sleep much anyway.

Normal? Right now I think I would be so happy with just a smidgen of what I was calling normal last Friday. Anything I was worried about or stressed about seems so unimportant right now. In fact, I can almost be angry at myself for worrying about silly stuff back then when the big stuff was about to hit.

Please don't think that I am complaining because truly I am not. I am processing. My brain is so full of everything that focusing is an issue right now. Writing all of this down is the only way that I keep going. It is the one way I unburden and give my brain a small pathway so that I can sort through the clutter and figure out the important stuff....the now stuff.....the stuff that I need to focus on in the moment.

My faith is still strong and yesterday I was given some information that if not helpful to the situation, at least made me feel a bit vindicated. The lawyer feels it is better to keep the info in my back pocket right now, but knowing it did give me some peace in a lot of ways. I am praying with all of my heart and each time I open up facebook, I am strengthened knowing that we are supported and loved. It is a huge thing and keeps me from losing belief in myself and my ability to fight.

Today....I wait to hear from my lawyer, I go to the grocery store, I do laundry, pick up my house and begin the planning of a fundraiser. This is my normal.....for the moment. Check with me in an hour and to see if it remains the same.

It's Simply a Faith Thing

Isn't it just like me? You don't hear from me for nearly a year and now suddenly, it's two days in a row. I promise that it is my intention to blog more in 2018 and more so, that they won't all be about this disaster I am currently dealing with. No....really!!! I have other life disasters that I can talk about! But today....I am processing and still need the writing therapy to get me through all of this.

This weekend was so surreal. Saturday I spent the day trying to understand how family can be so cold. No...not just family but MY family. It just was not sinking in. Yesterday I kept fluctuating between being sad, being angry and trying like hell to be understanding. My friend Marni's words kept going through my mind: There are 3 sides to every story. Your's, theirs and the truth. So what is this particular truth?

My first reaction upon hearing the news was to feel complete and total sorrow for both my dad and brother. I kept thinking how hard this must be for them to have to do this to me. I think I even apologized to them for having to go through such a thing. I remember thinking that because it must be so hard for them, that I had to handle this all with as much class and dignity as possible. Mostly I did not want my dad to be upset as his health isn't great and honestly even with our pasts....I couldn't for a moment think that either of them would deliberately do something like this to me. More over I couldn't fathom that they would do this to David. Hmmmmm I think I managed getting out of there with class and dignity...or at least my version of the two.

Then yesterday....... I didn't sleep much Saturday night, even as hard as I tried to shut my mind down. I prayed a lot and tried to imagine a positive end to this particular chapter of our story. Sleep was not my friend. So yesterday my mind began questioning what was truly behind this situation. Was this really a completely innocent action taken with the sole purpose of giving my dad financial peace of mind? If that was the case then as hard as this all is, it was understandable. BUT, why not include me in on the process and possibility that turned quickly to reality.... that my home was at stake? Why not give me a heads up and let me know that dad felt his living arrangements and financial security were in danger and therefore selling my house might ease that worry? I surely could have helped find other options and helped to ease that worry and not lose my home in the process. Was this whole thing then premeditated with the full intention of not only taking my home but causing me the absolute most stress while doing so? Can people, especially family really be that cruel? I still don't want to believe it, but at the very least, this whole thing was done in a very disrespectful, underhanded and humiliating way. It truly wasn't fair.

What was that? Life ain't fair. Yes, that is glaringly obvious.

Before I went to bed last night, I found myself starting to get angry at the unfairness of it all.Then I remembered that everything has purpose. There is purpose in this. Perhaps I need to appreciate things more and be more grateful. Perhaps I take things for granted too often. Maybe I need to realize that I need to give more, be kinder and not be so trusting of people (even family). Whatever the lesson is, I decided that I could be bitter or be busy. Bitterness takes you to a negative and unhealthy place pulling you down and backwards. If I get busy trying to fix things and improve my circumstances then I don't have time to be negative. All I have time to do is move forward. That is my choice.....busily moving forward.

Today I have been a bit overwhelmed. I hit the ground running but I have felt myself and my attention pulled in so many ways that focus has been hard to achieve. I have however been extremely busy. I have so many questions and so many things I need to check out and find out what my rights are and how I can continue to not only move forward but to also keep our home. It is truly a lot. Blessedly though, I am not doing this alone. My community, complete strangers and other wonderful family members and friends have stepped in and stepped up. Tonight is a community meeting to help plan a fundraiser. I am also told there have been many emails and calls to the Ellen show and the calls, texts, fb messages and donations we have received have been amazing. It just goes to show that blood doesn't have to be shared to be considered family. I don't think that I could be more grateful or more humbled right now.

So I move forward. I will likely never know the true motivation behind my "eviction" but I also can't sit around and worry about it either. All actions good or bad have consequences and this situation will be no different. As for me, I simply have to keep busy, be positive, fight like hell and learn everything from this experience that I am suppose to. I know everything else will eventually take care of itself. It's simply a faith thing!

Still Trying to Keep the Faith

Yes, I fell off the blog wagon. Life has been a bit busy (you know....summer and all) and blogging has just taken a bit of a back burner to everything else in my life. Of late, I have had a small issue with life, feeling as if it is collapsing in on me again. Perhaps it has been the weather and coming to a stand still on the pool/deck project. We are short 7 ton of sand (which hopefully is coming) and about 60 deck boards which I am short the money to purchase them with. It will happen though. I have faith! 

Then there was the trip to Shriners to check out Davids hip. It was suppose to be on Wednesday, but then just hours before leaving, the house was hit with the Bubonic Plague. Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but my house and all inhabitants were sick! This then meant having to reschedule. That is never fun with Shriners. Luckily we got a date just a couple of weeks off. That was definitely a God thing!

The hits just kept on coming when I realized that I was $160 short somewhere between leaving my house and getting to the bank. Still not sure how that happened. I searched every crevice of my van and my purse and no sign of it. Sigh....perhaps a lesson from on High about being less frenzied and more observant.

Finally....the cherry on top was the fact that I was suppose to have a meeting with a Social Security representative on the 15th to discuss David receiving SSI (disability) and after filling out preliminary paperwork on his health via e-forms, I received a determination in the mail yesterday that he was not eligible for disability. Apparently having cerebral palsy, a seizure disorder, being hydrocephalic and a host of other conditions along with being on 4 seizure meds 3 times per day doesn't make him disabled enough for disability. It has been suggested to me to get a disability attorney involved, but then again....if I could afford the attorney....I wouldn't need the disability! Still trying to keep the faith here people!!!!!

It was at this point that I began to hear the oh so familiar I am broke and I am never going to financially make it tune starting to play in my head. I could almost feel the hyperventilating coming on as my body tightened and the migraine set in. It sucks when you are mentally trying to pick out which bridge is going to be the warmest to live under this winter. Yes, I know....more over dramatization, but the financial worry is real. Then I remembered.....didn't I hand this all over to God a while back? Didn't I say that I would stop worrying about all of this and have faith that He would guide me? Yes I did! It also occurred to me mid-panic attack, that it is easy to have faith when things are easy, but REAL faith is believing even when things are really rough. Trust me.....they are really rough and yes God....I am not taking anything out of your hands....I have faith that all will be well!

Instead of panicking....okay....fully panicking, I decided to pray about it. I gave God my problems and so as to stay strong and not try to take them back, I decided I needed back up. So off I went to the internet and looked up some novena's. If you are Catholic then you know that novena's are tried and true methods of prayer for miracles straight across the board. I was looking for a novena explicitly for financial help when I ran across the Mother Teresa's  Emergency Novena. I love Mother Teresa and this for me is an urgent emergency, so it was definitely a fit. This novena is simply the Memorare said nine times in a row for your intention. For those of you who don't know what the Memorare is, it is a beautiful prayer to the Blessed Mother asking her to intercede on behalf of the one in need. Attached to the novena was a message board asking if anyone had ever said the novena and if so....their results. Many answered but the one that caught my eye was from someone who was not a Catholic but who had been given the novena in prison. He said the prayer asking for intercession as he wanted his life to turn around. Apparently his prayer request was granted.

I continue to hand this all over to God. I know He is listening and lest He not forget my request.....I have also sent the Blessed Mother to remind Him. Yes, I can be persistent like that. In truth, I have also sent St. Jude His way and I am thinking St. Pio and St. Theresa may also be paying Him a visit very soon. Yeah....I would call this an emergency.

To me, the biggest leap of faith is relinquishing control and letting God have it all. However, it becomes exponentially easier when I take things into true perspective and see where my need to control has left me. I can almost hear the ethereal question...."How's that whole control thing working out for you?" And to that I can honestly say...."It's not!" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Memorare

Remember O most gracious Virgin Mary

that never was it known

that anyone who fled to thy protection 

implored thy help 

or sought they intercession 

was left unaided

Inspired by this confidence

I fly unto thee O Virgin of Virgins my Mother

To thee I come

Before thee I stand...sinful and sorrowful

O Mother of the word incarnate

despise not my petitions

but in they mercy

hear and answer me.

The Journey, Confirmation and Stoney End

Have you ever been following a path (a theoretical one....not a real one) and felt that you were headed in the right direction....but you still needed a breather? I am talking about just a little time and space from the path and all that it implies, just to collect yourself and maybe even re-evalute the path. That is where I am at right now. For 5 months I have been headed in what I feel is the right direction, and there have even been a few times when I felt I was spot on to what I needed to be doing and where I needed to be doing it. However.....maintaining those moments has not been easy and although the path has been consistent.....the journey has not! Make any sense? Don't judge me...it is early and these are the kind of thoughts that plague me before my eyes are even open. Another reason to be glad that you are not me.

In essence though.....I am pleased with the path and not with the journey. Therefore I am stepping back today. I am using today as a day to reflect......breathe.....and then with any luck......move forward. It just feels like something I need to do. I don't feel like I have all my ducks in a row, my eggs in a basket or as my mother used to say.....my sh!t together (I loved my mom!) When you have been so out of sync and had so little together for so long......pulling it all back in is no easy task. So maybe a re-evaluation is in order. Sadly....I am only alotting myself 24 hours. The good news is....I seem to do better in a time crunch than when I have an abundance. Lets hope this time is no different.

Maybe one of the reasons I am so thoughtful today and so in need of a path adjustment is because tonight Z gets confirmed. Confirmation in the Roman Catholic Church is a big thing. It is one of the seven sacraments we received throughout our lives.....each one bringing us body and soul....closer to Christ. Through confirmation we not only accept Christ in our lives but we truly acknowledge His presence and become His true soldiers. When I was young....you were confirmed at 9 and while we knew our catechism forward and backward and had some understanding of the importance of confirmation.....it was not until I was much older that I fully understood the magnitude of this sacrament. Now....the age of confirmation has been raised. It is usually those who are 14 or older that partake of this sacrament. At this age they have a much better grasp and understanding of what it means to be a soldier of Christ and how this will affect them spiritually throughout their lives.

Z has really grown this year taking his confirmation classes. He is at an age where he is starting to ask questions about everything....including his faith, and this has left us open to some amazing conversations. While I don't pretend to know all there is to know about religion, faith and God....I do know what they have meant to my life. I know how my church has always been there for me....even if I didn't always show up for it. Through my church and the teachings of my religion I have learned faith and because of my faith....I have learned to trust in God above all else. I have personally experienced in my life things that were made possible by only sheer faith and the mercy of God. I have been given the grace to maybe not always understand, but always to accept God's will and to be able to find the blessings and the lessons....even in the worst situations. This is in great part due to the fact that I am a soldier of Christ. Perhaps this is the Catholic equivalent of being "born again!" This is our acknowledgement and complete acceptance of Christ in our lives and my mother always taught me that once confirmed.....no matter how far off track we got in our life, we had the grace to always find our way back.....and we always eventually would. And this is the culmination of the many long hours of conversation Z and I have had this year. Because of these talks....Z and I have grown closer and Z has grown much closer to his faith. It has been a good year!

Which brings me full circle back to my path and my journey. (Yes....it always comes back to being about me!) I can think of no better day to realign my vision and adjust my path as necessary. A breather where I can focus on both the importance of the day and the importance of my goals is both necessary and I believe deserved at this point.

Wow! This was a bit deep. Gosh....I just never know where these blogs are going to go first thing in the morning.....before my eyes are even opened and my thoughts are even formed. But you can always bet.....somehow, someway.....they will always find a way to be about me!

And today I leave you with a little Bab's. I woke up hearing this song in my head. I haven't thought of it in years but I really do love it. So here is Barbara Streisand and Stoney End. Hope you have an exceptional Wednesday!

Rainy Day Thoughts

Well....here we are stuck in doors on a rainy Sunday. It is not quite time to start Sunday dinner....so what better time to catch up on my thoughts. So here is me being randomly random on a rainy Sunday in May!

Pray for Nicky

Still praying for little Nicky Pena. He is a distant cousin whom I have never met...and yet I feel tremendous passion for and closeness to his family's situation. I have been there.... and needed every prayer possible for my son to live. They need this now....for no parent should ever have to watch a child die and no child should have to suffer what Nicky has had to suffer. Maybe the world needs to see a miracle....or maybe Nicky's cure would be the miracle that would profoundly touch and change the heart of one person. Whatever the case.....if it be God's will....let little Nicky receive a miracle!

A Mosque at Ground Zero

A mosque on Ground Zero???? Really??? Who thought this would be a good idea? I almost have no words or understanding for the thinking behind this. How is this a good thing? We lost lives because of radical Muslims and their complete hatred for America and Americans. Now I don't believe that the radicals represent the entire faith....but to put a mosque in the place of the most horrific slaughter of Americans this country has ever seen...is in my opinion unconscionable. This is a slap in the face to both the victims and their survivors....not to mention the rest of America. This also will cause more unrest and more of a division between true peaceful Muslims and Americans and cause a greater divide amongst American's in general. Why cause more problems when they simply aren't necessary. Could it be that a divided America is what is being sought after?

Graduating

School is almost out for the year...which means many will be graduating and starting their way in the world. You know....the funny thing is....with the economy the way it is, and the job market in such peril, those heading out of high school/college into the big world....have no idea what they are up against. No one has yet convinced them that because the world says they can't.....then why even try?! No one has yet ruined their confidence and because of their naivety.....they just might make it!!!! Oh to be young and fearless again!

Because I Said So!

I think I lost my mind yesterday.....yet again. My 14 year old wanted to do something that I, as his mother felt he shouldn't do. I didn't feel it was safe, and my mother's intuition literally screamed..."NO!" So my answer to his request was ...."No!" He then came back with the dreaded question....."but why?"

Okay...I was busy, tired, and preoccupied all at the same time...so the parents stock answer...."because I said so," came out of my mouth. And you all know what his counter was......"but why? Because I said so isn't a reason."

Suddenly I snapped. WHY do they always do that? WHY can't "because I said so..." be enough????

So I backed my little teenage offspring up against the wall (I am sure my eyes were ablaze with crazy)....and here is what I said:

"Because I said so," is not good enough for you???? Well how about because I am your mother?! I am older than you, lived through more than you, been hurt by more than I hope you ever will, and made the mistakes I am trying to help you now, avoid. Because what you are wanting to do is potentially dangerous and I do not relish spending what is left of my weekend in the ER, the hospital, or worse planning your funeral. Because I pay the bills, give you a place to live, a bed to sleep in and all the video games your heart desires. Because in this house it is a dictatorship....not a democracy.....and because believe it or not, I love you beyond all measure....and don't want you to do something to yourself that could potentially negatively effect the rest of your life." (At this point...I saw a slight lip tremble).

I continued: "So now let's be clear on something....the next time I say "Because I said so...." know that there are many, many good reasons behind what I say and why I say it....but because I am your mother....."because I said so"...should be more than enough reason for you."

When I finished....there was a tear in his eye. Not sure whether it was because he was moved by my emotional yet slightly crazed response, or just afraid of the of the glimmer of insanity in my eye. Whatever the reason though....the original request was dropped.....and I haven't had to say "because I said so," in over 24 hours!

Well....I have rambled long enough. Now it is time to get the dinner going. So I will leave you with this little diddy I remember from kindergarten!

Rain, rain
go away
Come again
another day
Little Lisa
wants to play
So.....rain, rain
go away!