Dec. 18, 2014
Thursday - Day 563
I won't finish this tonight. I have children that need to be read to and
tucked in soon. I have folded laundry
all over my bed that has to be put away before I get to get in, unless I fancy
sleeping on the floor. Actually, that
might not be such a bad idea. So, I'll just get a good start. That's ok.
I'll be home for most of tomorrow until evening when Ben and I have to
go man the concession stand at the school to earn money for his (our) Florida
trip. It's one of those things where I
got a phone call from the Fine Arts Dept. director and felt kind of
on-the-spot. I managed to worm out of
the night he wanted us two weeks ago but offered to do the 19th instead. I didn't realize when I offered that we would
still be in hunting season at that point and that the night of the 19th I would
be hosting 3 overnight hunters at my
home.
It's ok. I'll manage.
Tomorrow, Will, David, and Jonathan
(David's bestie - do guys have "besties?") will be hunting all day
long with some other guys from church.
Then, two more friends arrive later tomorrow to join the hunters on
Saturday. I sure hope they get something. The guys hunted last weekend and came up
empty-handed, except for Nathanael, who got himself a nice, thick 9
pointer. But if they do get something,
then that means butchering might be happening on my dining room table next week
in the midst of the Christmas bustle.
Like last year. I had beheaded, skinned, dead deer on my dining
room table on Christmas Eve. My
parents arrived to start the Christmas celebrations and I still had a house
full of guys waving knives and bowls of blood setting on the table.
It was so warm last weekend that
Will and Nathanael strung up the one Nathanael got to the swing set and skinned
him right there and then. I've been
fighting off the neighborhood dogs all week long, all who want deer legs, the
skin, and rib cage. I finally got the
boys to dump the carcass in the garbage can but I'm sure the dogs can smell it.
Why am I blathering on about
deer? I don't know. My brain has been kind of foggy all
week. Anyway, I guess I was saying that
I'd be home most of tomorrow so I can work on blogging in between all the time
I'll be spending in the kitchen cooking for the hungry hunters. I think that was the point I was getting to.
******************************
I had to drive to Ottumwa this week
(more on that later). I ended up getting
a series of text messages from one of our pastors so I kept having to pull off
so I could text back. I like to say
texting makes my life easier, but sometimes it really doesn't! Anyway, I pulled off at the
Knoxville/Chariton exit. I couldn't find
a good place to park, but I eventually found a little access road. I saw some sort of business up ahead so I
wound around on the gravel road until I could pull in. I was so surprised when I read the sign on
the building - Bertrand Monuments. A
year ago July I drove up and down and up and down the several mile stretch of
highway that runs through Knoxville looking for this place. Armed with
Mapquest, I knew about where it was supposed to be, but I never could find it. I finally gave up and went with McCall
Monument, also in Knoxville. I could
find them. It's all right. They did a great job and really served with compassion. But now a year and a half later, I finally
find the joint!
*******************************
Yesterday I had a unique
experience. It's no secret that the
religion of Islam is growing, and along with that, its influence. For some reason, the Muslims seem to prefer
the west side of Des Moines. There are
quite a few fully scarved Walmart employees at the Jordan Creek store. That has made for some interesting
conversations with the Littles! And
actually, there is one at Ben's school, which is surprising. His school is one of the smallest districts
in the entire state. It's something like
99% white, if not more. In fact, Lizzie
commented to me that if she does attend there next year she'll probably be the
only black girl in the school and, more than likely, she's right about
that. So, I was really surprised this
year at Ben's first vocal concert when one of the students stood up there, her
head fully covered by a white scarf.
Maybe she's a foreign exchange student.
I just thought of that. That
could be. Or, she could have recently
transferred into the district or maybe even converted. I don't know.
At the Christmas program last week, Ellie saw her, squealed loudly, and
exclaimed (also loudly),
"Look, Mommy - a
Muswim!" Yeah, we've had a lot of
conversations.
So, anyway, yesterday I was out at
Jordan Creek Mall. I had just the
Littles and we ate in the food court. I
won't go into all the details of that experience, but suffice it to say, I
didn't have the stroller, the kids were in bulky winter coats and it
was...harrowing. They were all actually
really well-behaved, but it was still not an experience I want to repeat
anytime soon. We got done eating, and
of course, all their bladders instantly filled to capacity. Sam had no desire to go into the ladies'
restroom, but I wasn't about to let him go into the men's alone. What did I do before they came up with Family
bathrooms? I know they didn't have them
when my big boys were little. Inside the
food court at Jordan Creek is the restroom area. They have the mens' room and ladies' room, a
changing room or two, a nursing room, and two family restrooms. Both were occupied so the kids and I sat down
in a little waiting area they have with couches and rocking toys. I think they're rocking toys. Maybe they're supposed to be decorations, now
that I think about it. My kids have
always played on them, though! Both
family rooms were occupied so I herded the kids over to the waiting area. Later, when a room opened up, I was a bit
miffed when a single lady walked out.
Hello, people - these rooms are for families! You know, harried, tired mothers like me who
have more small children than they have arms?
The first thing I noticed was this
Muslim lady wearing a dress, a winter coat, and colorful head scarf. She was sitting on one of the benches. A man, around her age, was on the floor,
which I thought was a little odd. What I
mostly noticed was how irritated he looked when the kids and I came back
there. Tough banana, Guy - if we have
the chance to sit while we wait, we're going to do it. Then, I saw that he had his glasses on a
bench and it looked like he was peering under the couch. As mentioned, my brain has been a bit foggy
this week, but even with that I began to wonder - if he was looking for
something wouldn't he want his glasses ON so he could see what it was he was
hoping to find? The guy kept kneeling
with his nose to the floor. The light
began to finally penetrate my murky mind as I saw him then stand and pick up a
12" X 12" square of gold and brown woven tapestry piece off the floor
and place it into a bag on the bench.
He was practicing salat! I've heard of the practice, seen pictures of
men in mosques doing it, but never witnessed it first-hand before. And no, I didn't know that word. I had to google it. I just knew that Muslims are required to pray
five times daily, facing Mecca, which would be, what, East? It was really interesting to me.
And incredibly sad. As I watched him, a real sorrow just
enveloped me. This young man will spend
his entire life reciting his prayers and will make at least one pilgrimage to
Saudia Arabia (where Mecca is located - also had to google that). But when he dies he will be cast into Hell
because he rejected Jesus. All that
self-sacrifice and prostrating for nothing!
He will have spent his entire life believing a lie. I immediately began praying for him.
After he and his wife (I assume -
are Muslim men allowed to have girlfriends?) left the area I gathered the
Littles around and explained what had just occurred.
********************************
My kitchen floor is buckling. Ugh. I
have never heard of this happening, except in flood situations. I don't know if the dishwasher leaked or
what. It's a section of wood right in
front of it. Will said there was a wet
spot on the basement floor below, but it wasn't too bad. We've been watching it all day and haven't
seen any more water. But there are,
apparently, drawbacks to wood floors.
This is one of them. It's a
section about two strips wide by maybe 18-22 inches. The wood is going to have to be either
screwed back down, or somehow replaced.
We do have some left-over pieces but
Will was saying they won't look quite as good when replaced. It's got to look better than it does now, all
puffed up.
******************************
Friday - Day 564
The girls are still asleep and it 's
nearly 9am...not going to wake them. My
hunters were up and moving at 4am. I
know this because I heard them. Then,
Lizzie appeared, breathing heavily, at my bedside at 6am.
"I had a bad dream!"
A good mom would have invited her to
crawl in the bed and chase away the scaries by cuddling. I'm not that good of a mom.
What I am is a distracted
mom. Yesterday I put Lizzie down for her
nap and then came downstairs and helped Sam with some schoolwork and then
plunged back into my to-do list. About
an hour later, a disheveled Ellie appeared in the kitchen, rubbing her
eyes. I had totally forgotten about this
child! I asked her where she had been
and she told me she had been sleeping underneath her bed! I didn't miss her and I completely forgot
about putting her down for her nap! I am
reminded of the harsh thoughts I have had at times towards the girls' birth mom
because of her lack of interest and care for her children. Am I any better? Not yesterday, at least!
The other day Ellie asked me to get
down the "owie game" out of the closet for her. I didn't know what she was talking
about. I eventually figured out she
meant "Operation." Makes
sense, I guess.
The kids' Christmas program is at
church Sunday night. Ellie has been
going around the house all week singing, "In elshellshees
Da-a-ayo!" That must be all she
remembers. It makes me smile.
****************************
Frustrated this morning...Sam has lost
his glasses AGAIN. He took them off to
wrestle with his brothers last night and this today they are missing. Argh!
This is like what, the 50th time he's misplaced them? Would I get in trouble if I stapled them to
his head, once he finds them again? Of
course, my fear is that he won't find them and then I'll be forced to buy him
another pair. On the plus side, Sam did
find the missing basement dvd remote while he was searching.
**************************
When I was out with the Littles the
other day, they were very eager to put money in the red Salvation Army
kettles. Well, they were very eager to
put MY money in the kettles. They asked
again what they were for and I explained it was to help poor people. Sam nodded and said, "Yes, they buy
Christmas trees for all the poor people.
That's important!" I was
thinking more along the lines of food and energy assistance, but I guess when
you're 7, having a Christmas tree is a pretty big priority, too!
*****************************
As I mentioned earlier I had to
drive to Ottumwa earlier this week. It's
a good hour and fifteen minutes away, but the Social Security office for my
region is located there. I went in Sept,
hoping to get the girls new Social Security cards. Well, I didn't have their new birth certificates
with me, so I couldn't get it done that day - grr. I decided to go this week. I cannot get my taxes done next year without
new cards for the girls so I'm kind of running out of time. I wanted to make sure this would not be
another wasted trip so I called down to the office and verified with them what
documents I would need. I had them all,
so I left.
I got there and the guy behind the
window told me, "You have to have an ID for the girls." What?
They're children - how on earth would I have an ID for them? Surely
adoption decrees and birth certificates are some sort of identification! The man was insistent that I must have this ID before we could start the
paperwork for new cards. I explained
repeatedly that I had just called not two hours earlier and nothing was
said to me about IDs. He went and talked
to his manager but came back telling me the same thing. At this point I was nearly in tears. I was fighting them hard. I burst out, "I have SIX children and
live over an hour away. I do not have
TIME to come back!"
There was nothing I could do. This is the United States government at work.
The only way for me to get an ID for
the girls is to take them to the doctor and have the doctor type up a document
on piece of paper stating the girls' names, birth dates, and sign it. What does
THAT prove? So I called their
doctor. Well, the girls haven't been
seen in almost two years. So they can't
do anything for me until the girls have a full physical. And since that time, the girls have had a
name change. Lizzie's file was misnamed
and the office tried to tell me repeatedly they had never seen her. I told them otherwise. Eventually they found it.
All this was further complicated by
the fact that I need the same doctor to type up a letter about Ben for his
guardianship hearing. Ben hasn't been
seen in a year and half, so the doctor wanted to see him, too. And, this doctor no longer takes new Medicaid
patients, which means he would see Ben, but not the girls. But, his nurse took pity on me and scheduled
the girls with him, anyway. So, right
before rush hour on the 30th, I get to take the kids to downtown Des Moines and
do all this.
There are times I want to leave
civilization altogether and go live on a mountaintop, just me and the kids. Sometimes, I'd happily leave the kids behind
and go live by myself. I get so
tired of dealing with agencies and the government.
On the way home Tuesday, I found
myself really questioning God. I couldn't (and still can't) understand why
He let my entire morning be wasted like that.
Sometimes when my plans get derailed and I am late or don't get to go
somewhere I had planned, I often assume that I might have been involved in some
sort of accident and it was God's way of protecting me. But this?
I just don't see it.
*****************************
Saturday - Day 565
The other night a widow friend at
church (older - they're all older there) gave me a hug and whispered, "I
don't need to ask how you're doing because I already know." It's probably written all over my face these
days.
Earlier this week I found myself
thinking about suicide. Before I begin
to get phone calls from concerned friends questioning my mental health, I will
be quick to assure everyone that I am not thinking of ending my
life. If I die young, it will be because
I did something dumb, like turned in front of semi or dropped my hair dryer in
the tub. I have zero intentions of
killing myself. Ever.
But my thoughts were going there in
a detached manner. I understand the
appeal. I used to think that suicide was
the ultimate act of selfishness. I no
longer believe that. Suicide happens
when a person is in so much pain that they can no longer think rationally. It's still a choice and it's still a sinful
decision. But I understand it better
now.
I have been hurting so much lately
that the thought did creep into my mind - "You know, you could just end
all this pain." Looking back,
I'm pretty sure that thought came straight from the pit of hell. I pondered the idea for about a split second
and then rejected it. My death would
hurt too many people. Plus, I firmly
believe that God is the author of life.
Paul's ended because his work was done.
I'm still here, which means there is purpose yet for my life.
Even if I'm not crazy about
fulfilling that purpose yet.
Even if that purpose involves pain
for the rest of my days.
But what if it doesn't? What if, down the road, happiness sneaks up
on me again? I love my children so much
it makes me teary-eyed at times. I want
to be here for all those moments as their lives unfold and blossom. Yeah, those moments are always going to be a
double-edged type of thing, probably equal parts pleasure and disappointment
that Paul is missing these milestones.
But there will still be joy despite that and I want to see those
moments. As much as I long to go to
Heaven, now, there are some things I think I'd like to see happen in my own
life while I'm still tethered to earth.
These are things that I think will give me pleasure. I don't want to miss them
So, I stay and slog through the hurt
that, these days, feels like sticky, mucky, swampland.
But even then, now, through this,
hope remains. A lot of the times its flame is barely discernible, but it's
there. I'm going through a devotional
book right now by Juanita Purcell on the Psalms - one for each day of the
year. It was given to me a few weeks ago
and I couldn't wait until Jan. 1 to start using it. Yesterday, I grabbed onto a few lines she
wrote and held them close all day long:
We must
ever doubt in the dark what we know in the light. God is good; God loves me; I will again lift
my head and sing. Anyone can sing when
the sun is shining brightly, but only confidence in God can give us a song in
the night. Don't lose hope! Hope is admitting that troubles do exist, but
believing they won't last forever. Hope
believes that God will lead us through the darkness to the sunshine of His
love. Don't give up; don't lose hope! You will lift your head and sing again.
I needed to
hear that.
I have found
another song to hold onto, as well. It's
by Kari Jobe, entitled I am not Alone. Here's the link if you want to hear it song
When I walk
through deep waters
I know that you will be with me
When I'm standing in the fire
I will not be overcome
I know that you will be with me
When I'm standing in the fire
I will not be overcome
Through the valley
of the shadow
Oh I will not fear
Oh I will not fear
I am not alone
I am not alone
You will go before me
You will never leave me
In the midst of deep sorrow
I see your light is breaking through
The dark night will not over take me
I am pressing into you
Lord you fight my every battle
And I will not fear
You amaze me
Redeem me
You call me as your own
You're my strength
You're my defender
You're my refuge in the storm
You're my defender
You're my refuge in the storm
Through these
trials
You have always been faithful
You bring healing to my soul
You have always been faithful
You bring healing to my soul
Encouragement.
Truth.
This week has been better than last. I've received a slew of encouragements from
friends all week long. I don't know if
it's because it's Christmastime or if it's because my friends have been talking
and decided that something must really be done about poor Sarah. Or maybe it's just God prodding hearts into
action, one by one. Whatever the case,
I'm grateful. I received a Christmas
card from a friend and when I opened it, out fell a wad of cash with a note
telling me to take the kids out to eat.
I will. I received a Facebook
note with the most encouraging note from a friend's husband. I have read it over and over this week. My trials have value. My suffering is not for nothing (according to his words). I found a loaf of homemade bread sitting on
my seat when I got back in my van after church Wed. night. Another friend sent home a gift basket full
of goodies for all of us. Another friend
told me she's taking my Littles Monday and when she found out I'm feeding
hunters again this weekend she baked an entire supper and brought it out to me
to help feed them. It's warming in my
oven right now. When I got home from
program practice today a box of food staples was on my front porch. This was from the American Legion in
Pleasantville. They blessed us this way
a year ago, I remember.
The person I am being changed into - for surely, I AM
being changed - would not be happening were it not for Paul's death, for this
hurt, this soul-splitting agony. But
equally a factor in my change is the love of God, caring for me, protecting me,
ministering to me through the goodness of others. It's like those ancient masks depicting
both comedy and tragedy.
Never have things
been both so horrible and so good at the same time.
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