What's in a name?

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a brief fast forward to present time. Join us now as we step inside the brains of our present day blogger in mid thought....
So I was taking a shower, trying to take off the chill and wind down from a long day and my thoughts were bouncing all over the place as the decompression began to take hold. As they do many nights during the decompression period, my thoughts drifted to my grandparents. Sometimes I am still mentally checking off the " to do list" for things that need to be taken care of, other times I am feeling sorry for them, but tonight, as many nights, I just contemplated who they are and what their lives have been. Being their caretaker the last several years, I have have had the distinct opportunity to get to know both of them on an entirely different level than any of the other grandchildren. That's not to say their relationships are not unique nor any less significant, rather that, as a caretaker, I have had to step out of the grandchild role and into the shoes of a parental role with both of them as time has progressed.
I have become particularly endeared to my grandfather since this change in relationship has taken place, more so than when I was just playing the role of granddaughter. I began to know him more as a person and not just as my papaw.
Be it by grace, genetics or both, I've discovered that my good nature and optimism come from him. In the time that I have taken care of him, he has faced some enormous changes and tragedies and yet never let life take him down too far. No matter the circumstances he's faced, he has always leaned back on his faith and plugged forward with the intent that God knew what He was doing. He has always made a point of showing gratitude and is cognisant of the time and energy that I spend helping both of them. He has been the single most stable and influencing male role model throughout my life.
As our relationship has grown and changed, and in the absence of my mother, he has crowned me with a bittersweet treasure that I hold so very close to my heart. As long as I can remember, his pet name for mom has always been "sug" ( pronounced shug). In the last year, somehow, I have adopted this name from him and it still makes my heart skip a beat whenever he addresses me as "sug." It instaneously makes me feel so special and cherished and yet it evokes a pang of deep longing for the one that brought me into this world . I consider it a great honor that he has chosen to pass along such an exceptionally personal term of endearment to me.
May we always stop and enjoy the small moments in life that make it so sweet.

The resignation

"When I am afraid, I will trust in you Lord." Psalms 56:3

It was late August, barely a month after my parents had moved into their new home when I received a call that would alter all that I had known of life before. It was early morning and I was preparing for my day when the phone rang. It was my mother, hardly understandable and sobbing. Daddy had left in the middle of the night, leaving a note indicating he was gone for good and had no plans of being found. I felt a lump rise in my throat as my heart simultaneously broke.
I do not have much recollection of how I got to my mother, but I arrived at her house within the hour of the call. She was inconsolable and it was the first time in my life I had felt so helpless. My heart was breaking because when he left her, not to be found, he left all of us. I had to put my own feelings of hurt aside and be her strength and encourager, to somehow remind both of us that God was still in control. I remember so vividly sitting on the couch next to her, holding her hand in those first few hours, trying to help her make sense of it all. I knew their already toxic relationship had become increasingly hostile, and even had some warning signs from daddy, but I never ever thought he would just leave everything.
He had left a list of bills to pay and when, how much money he left her...all of the business of the home that he had taken over years before . His boss called a few hours later, equally perplexed that daddy had left a letter of resignation on his desk in the early hours of the morning mere days before the start of school.
There were hardly any of his personal items gone from either home or work. Some clothes, a few of his guns and camping equipment were gone, but that was all. There was no answer on his cell phone, and mom called many times. Eventually, later that day, he apparently just turned it off.
In the midst of the day as events began to sink in, it became clear why daddy had built their house around the corner from my brother, he had been planning this for some time. It was the only logical conclusion, and realizing that made the sting of heartache even deeper.

The Beauty of her world

Sweet moments

Spring drifted into summer and at last the house was built and mom and daddy were set to move in. There was much to be done as they not only had to pack up their apartment but also would be moving everything they had in storage. Mom had notebook after notebook with notes for how each room was to be laid out so that there was a home for each and every treasure that she had collected. In spite of her debilitating disease, she always held onto surrounding herself with beauty in any way she could. She had quite the gift for arranging much into a small space and making it feel as though each piece belonged exactly where it was. It was a long, arduous process for her but gave her comfort and a sense of accomplishment.
I remember spending many days at the house in the first several weeks, helping her unpack and organize. One day in particular we were working in the kitchen and had finally found the box with all of the pieces that went into the china cabinet. Oh how I wished I had taken the time to write things down from that day. As we unpacked each piece, mama would share with me it's history and how it came to be a part of the coveted collection that sat in the china cabinet. I remember that day fondly. I learned more about our family history, we enjoyed great conversation and we laughed. It was a day that I cherish and will always hold onto with gratitude.

A step closer to the fire

It was spring of 2005 and the construction of their new house was well on it's way and was set to be complete by mid-summer. Mom was busy trying to distract herself with plans of moving once again, but the circumstances of her inner world had started to crumble and she was finding it harder and harder to hang on. Her disease had become worse and her pain dictated not only her ability to do normal day to day tasks, but navigated her anxiety to the brink of being unbearable. I cannot begin to imagine what difficulty lay ahead of her every day. The simple tasks that so many of us take for granted could so easily defeat her before she even arose out of bed in the morning. Fear and insecurity consumed her, and yet she would defy those feelings and do her best to keep going. Of course with fear, insecurity and depression ruling a person's life, it does not always bring out the best in any of us and mom was no exception. She could be difficult to talk to and be around when she was having a particularly trying day. It was no help that her and daddy continued their toxic dance. With daddy working and me living near by, I had taken on the task of taking her to many of her doctor appointments and out to visit her parents. Some days we did great together and other days, I found it very hard to show her matronly respect. Being my mother, she knew best how to push my buttons and then add the general mother/daughter component that can sabotage any given situation and the stage was set for some serious challenges on my part. I did my best to side step the minefield that presented itself as she had increasingly bad days, but I did not always dodge the bullet. While I have few regrets in life, my mismanagement of these situations is definitely on the list. Looking back, I realize that in many ways, God was preparing me for the days ahead and refining me in the study of patience and showing grace. I had no idea how soon I would be walking straight into the fire. Though in my thirties, somehow I was still naive about how truly unyielding this world could be.

Blankets

per-ser-ver-ance ( pur-suh-veer-uhns)
–noun

1.	steady persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., esp. in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.

2.	Theology. continuance in a state of grace to the end, leading to eternal salvation.

It's not necessarily a character trait any of us seek out, yet a quintessential side effect of life. We all experience both the peak and valley moments,but truth be told, most of us prefer the peaks. However, it is in the valley that we procure the elemental aspects that shape our most internal sense of character. It is when we are at our lowest that the reflection in the mirror becomes the most clear and when what's truly important can be our greatest ally in attaining the next peak.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." - James 1: 2-4

As a pastor I listened to recently pointed out, joy is not exactly what we are feeling when faced with a trial, yet he reminded me that we can find the joy in retrospect. The joy comes in looking back and seeing that we did indeed somehow make it through whatever valley we were traveling through. It blankets us in the depths of despair and pain, hardship and grief. Sometime it feels like we may never find the next peak, but we always do and oftentimes with a greater sense of gratitude and understanding. It is a a choice to find the wisdom in the difficult experiences in life but a choice well worth making. Because we have empathy, it allows us to serve others in the most intimate manner and in a sense, makes our own trials worthwhile because we were able to lend a compassionate hand to our brother.
In my own moments of perserverance, I find solice in music. There is one song, that for the last several years, has been my mantra when my heart has been heaviest and I felt as though I could not take one step further.
Even When
This week I prayed one time/ My phone it rang I put you on the other line/ And now my thoughts they drift away/ My knees remain unaquainted with the ground/ Unless my faith is put to the test and I am forced to bow/ Although I am in this flesh it doesn't mean You shouldn't have the best from me, from me
Chorus: Even when my eyes are dry/Even when my soul is tired/Even when my hands are heavy/I will life them up to You/It's not about how I feel/Oh Lord, I was made for you/ I exist for you/
I close my eyes but all I see/ Is a background of black, bouncy squiggly lines/ And this weeks mistakes coming back to mind but/ I will lift my voice and make a joyful sound/ Forget about me I only make me down/ Although I cannot see it doesn't mean I shouldn't sing to You, to You
Chorus
You've given me your life and held mine together and yet I find/ Excuses to staunch in my pew/ But when glory divine/ Is sitting in my very presence/ the least that I can do/ Is give my all to You/ give my all to You
Chorus
- Seven Places

Time Marches On

And mom did make that apartment look beautiful. It was like walking into a model that made you want to live there.
Daddy seemed to have settled into his new job and they had decided that they were ready to find a house and settle down once again.
In the meantime, my sweet brother had moved on from the apartment complex where he shared neighborly company with my parents and had himself transitioned into a new phase of life. He had married and built a house to accommodate his new bride and their life together. Their journey took them to a small town on the outskirts of a college town that was a decent drive away from the city. It was a new small subdivision that was bustling with many new families starting out and was at the time, a good fit for the newlyweds.
Imagine my brother's suprise when our parents told us they had decided to build a house in the same neighborhood, just down the street from my brother. He seemed to take the news fairly well. Not that he didn't love our parents, but our family was not the type to live quite so close together. We were a family that often enjoyed our time together but also were big fans of "space." This would be the second time they have lived so close and this move was certainly more of a permanent nature. I don't know if I would have been as gracious as my brother about that, but putting his own feelings aside, he helped them where he could and took everything in stride.

Picking up where the castle fell

So their transition away from the bays of coyotes, gravel roads and starlit nights led them to the more civilized sounds of fire sirens, busy traffic and street lights illuminating their back patio. Not only had they left the serenity of a countryside home, but for the first time were living the apartment life where sounds of noisy neighbors and the privacy they were used to had all but disappeared. On many levels, mom embraced this change, if only to be less secluded. The beauty of the country spoke to her soul on levels only her and the Lord could know, but the sense of loneliness that overcame her at times was overwhelming. As her condition had progressed, her ability to go out and greet civilization on her own terms had been dictated by the prison that her body held her in. There were still some good days where she could drive herself, but even then the pathway between the house and the garage was an obstacle course of uneven ground and the anxiety that accompanied it could be equally unnerving with a body that was shaky on it's own. Then there was the long drive to wherever it was that she destined a place to visit, as the country home was twenty minutes from the nearest town, much less the nearest city. So while the change was dramatic and bittersweet, she looked forward to again being the city girl that she had once been.
Daddy had chosen an apartment close to me and all but a few doors down from my brother. Later my brother and I would understand more as to why they moved so close.
Daddy took on a new post at a new school while mom took on the task of nesting and creating a home in this new foreign yet familiar place. Her palate was empty and her notebook was full of details entailing the placement of every picture, every candle and every piece of lace. She had been shopping for months for the perfect accents ( of course on sale) to create her new design. Most of their furniture from the country house had been put in storage until they could determine where their next permanent home would be. This new creation was a comforting distraction from the uncertainty of the unknown future. She never did well with change, especially when it came to her home, but she did the best she could and leaned on her artistic vision to keep her moving forward and to surround herself with beauty.

A small piece of Heaven

There have been many thoughts of Wind Dreamer today...I will share more pictures later, but here is a small taste of where my mind wanders to when I seek solidarity.

A starting point

I never intended to start blogging, and yet here I am. Maybe now that I am here, I can actually get back to journaling so to speak. Somehow, it stopped when I got married. I have been mulling over the last few years and the journey it has carried me on. Not an easy road, but I keep telling myself that I have built character eh? Maybe. Either way, I have been wanting to document it and while my origional intention was to do it privately, somehow I am here. If my journey can be of aid to anyone else out there , then let my experience bless you.

"Learn wisdom from the ways of a seedling. A seedling which is never hardened off through stressful situations will never become a strong productive plant." - Stephen Sigmond

In retrospect, it was when my parents moved to Ponder that my own pondering of life really started to take shape over the last few years.
They are both amazing people. My mother was a creative genius and so full of passion. She struggled through most of her life and yet despite her challenges, always ultimately knew her power lay within the grace of God. The strength with which she endured the path she took was evident of His Holy power. My father, he is more of an intellectual with I think, a tad of ADD, always looking for that next opportunity, never really settling where he was. His knowledge of the bible has always impressed me and in his work life, there has been much evidence of the application of biblical teachings in the lives of his students.
Together though, while their love was strong and passionate, ultimately, the only thing I could see of them together was toxicity. Some people just don't do well together and unfortunately overall, these two did not. No child wants to make that assessment of their parents, but without going into great detail, the foundation had been laid for many years.

Fast forward to 2005. By now mom had been diagnosed with a rare form of Rheumatoid arthritis. She was constantly fatigued and suffered with much pain. The things that had once given her great pleasure, her creative endeavors, had become more work than pleasure and even the simplest of tasks became an accomplishment of great endurance. Because she also suffered from anxiety this exasurbated her circumstances and left her feeling more alone and depressed than I think she had ever encountered. She was a determined woman and was never one to stop trying, but even in her great determination, I think she ultimately felt more defeated than victorious. Even the most determined spirits can eventually wear down in this sometimes weary world. While a warrior, she was no exception.
Daddy was in a place of wearing down himself. The ongoing disharmony between them and the added demands of taking over many of the household duties, once deemed mom's territory, was taking it's toll. Somewhere in the midst of moving from their dream home, leaving a job that was familiar and comfortable and her diagnosis, he had queitly suffered a small stroke. No outward evidence neccesarily, but in looking back, I think he lost on a subtle level, some of the tools that had enabled him to push through long hours and stressful situations as he had once done as a younger man. Outwardly he seemed to have it together, but on the inside, as I would later learn, he was slowly unraveling while trying desperately to hold it all together.
In light of mom's deteriorating health, they both decided that it was time to leave their "castle on a hill" in the country and head back to the city where doctors were closer and coveniences were easier to attain. I am still sure that this was never an easy decision. Of all the places my parents have lived over the years, Wind Dreamer was their vision, their creation together, and I think, a place where their most harmonious moments surfaced moreso than anywhere else. It was a spirtual place and a place to this day is still where I go in my head when I want to find peace. Funny that I never lived there and yet it is more home than any other place I've been in regards to my family.

I didn't mean to start blogging

But I wanted to post on a friend's blog and the more I thought about it, the more I thought, what the hec. I've been meaning to get back into journaling for some time now and if I have a blog, I have to write something. So stay tuned and we'll see what comes of it.